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gf2bellamy · 1 day ago

Note

queen why do i feel you'll EAT writing about shy! reader and subtly flirty post-prison reid? 🤭

shy — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: shy / awkward reader , they're working on a case so mention of victims / unsub etc. a/n: HEYY thank you for your request hope you like this i gave it my best shot <3

“And the two of you can work on the geographical profile.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, eyes meeting Spencer’s for the briefest of moments before you instinctively looked away, pretending to refocus on the files in front of you. Heat crept up your neck, and you tapped your fingers lightly against the table, a nervous habit you never quite managed to shake.

Spencer’s gaze flickered down to your fingers, watching the repetitive motion before shifting his attention back to his own files. He knew you were shy—reserved, careful with your words—but over time, he’d started to notice something else.

You were even quieter around him.

Forty-five minutes later, you arrived at the police station with the rest of the team. The usual chaos of a local precinct swirled around you—officers moving in and out, phones ringing, hurried conversations about the case at hand.

As the others scattered to their respective tasks, an officer led you and Spencer to an open conference room, giving you both space to work.

You slipped your bag from your shoulder and draped your jacket over the back of a chair before settling into place. Just as you were pulling out your notes, Spencer’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Do you want coffee before we start?”

You hesitated. You did, of course. You always started your work with coffee—it was practically a ritual at this point. But the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him.

“No, that’s fine,” you said, offering a small, polite smile before looking back at your notes.

Spencer didn’t respond, just studied you for a moment, then turned and walked out of the room without another word.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open again, and Spencer reappeared, carrying two cups of coffee. Without a word, he set one down in front of you before taking his own seat.

Surprised, you looked up at him, eyes wide. “Spencer, you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, stirring a packet of sugar into his coffee. “But you always have coffee before you start working, and I didn’t see you get one today.”

Your fingers curled around the cup, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. You glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your lips curled up into a small, bashful smile.

Spencer noticed. And he smiled too.

You two worked side by side, occasionally exchanging thoughts on the profile as new details emerged. Every now and then, Spencer would glance at you, watching how you furrowed your brows in concentration, the way your fingers tapped against the table when you were deep in thought.

At one point, a police officer working the case stepped into the room. He was friendly—maybe a little too friendly. He started asking about the case, directing every question to you instead of Spencer.

At first, you simply answered out of politeness, not thinking much of it, but as the conversation continued, it became clear that his interest went beyond the case.

Spencer noticed immediately. The officer’s body language, the way he leaned slightly toward you, the casual, almost playful tone in his voice—it was obvious.

And it was bothering him. A lot.

He watched as you shifted slightly in your seat but too polite to ignore the man’s questions. Spencer could see it—you weren’t necessarily reciprocating, just trying not to seem rude. Still, that didn’t stop the uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

His grip on his pen tightened. Then, without looking away from the officer, he spoke.

“We have to keep working on this,” Spencer said, his voice even but firm. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Alone.”

The single word carried weight.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to your files, unsure how to react. The officer hesitated for a second, as if debating whether to challenge Spencer, but ultimately nodded and excused himself from the room.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, the room felt quieter—almost tense. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, not quite meeting Spencer’s gaze.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, keeping your gaze fixed on the open case file in front of you. "I didn’t mean to—"

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Spencer’s voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable certainty in it. You hesitated before glancing up at him

You shifted in your seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I just… I didn’t know how to get out of that conversation without being rude,” you admitted.

Spencer let out a small hum, tilting his head as he considered your words. “You really don’t like making people uncomfortable, do you?”

You exhaled a small, breathy laugh. “No, I guess not.”

He nodded, then tapped his pen against the table. “Even when they’re clearly making you uncomfortable?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your pen. “I mean…” You hesitated, suddenly very aware of how intently he was watching you. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Spencer’s lips twitched, almost like he was holding back a smirk. “Right. Not that bad.” His voice was thoughtful, but there was something teasing in it.

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

He shrugged, flipping a page in his file.“It’s just interesting,” he mused, his tone casual. “Watching someone else try so hard to get your attention.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling warm. “What—”

“Not that I can blame him,” he added smoothly, cutting you off. His eyes met yours, and this time, he didn’t look away.

Your breath hitched, and you quickly dropped your gaze to your files, trying to will away the sudden heat in your face.

Spencer chuckled, the sound quiet but amused. “I’m just saying,” he continued, leaning slightly toward you, his voice lower now. “If he had been paying closer attention, he might’ve noticed that you weren’t interested.”

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping your pen. “And what exactly makes you so sure of that?”

He smiled—just enough to be infuriating. “Because,” he said simply, “you get a lot quieter when you actually are interested.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Your lips parted slightly, ready to respond—except you had no idea what to say. Spencer, ever the profiler, seemed to pick up on that, because his smirk deepened just a little before he finally turned back to his notes, acting as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, you stared at your files, pretending to read, even though the words in front of you had lost all meaning.

Some time later , you were staring at the board, your eyes scanning the map and the scattered notes pinned to it. The geographical profile was coming together, but something felt off—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You were pretty sure you had found a pattern, a connection that might help narrow down the unsub’s next move, but the last thing you wanted was to sound like a complete idiot.

Especially not in front of Spencer.

The way you could barely string a sentence together around him was embarrassing enough, and the fact that he had already picked up on it made it even worse.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the file in your hands, your thoughts racing. The more you stared at the board, the more convinced you became that you were onto something.

Before you could gather the courage to speak, Spencer appeared beside you, his presence so close that you could almost feel the warmth of his arm brushing against yours.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering between you and the board.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice soft but curious. He was looking at you from the side.

You swallowed hard, your fingers instinctively reaching for the necklace around your neck, twisting the delicate chain between your fingers.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, focusing on the board instead of him.

Spencer didn’t move. He stayed right where he was, his eyes still on you, waiting. The silence stretched between you, and you could feel the weight of his attention pressing down on you.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone gentle but persistent. “You’re staring at the board like it’s about to reveal the secrets of the universe,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “If you’ve noticed something, I’d like to hear it.”

You hesitated, your fingers still fiddling with your necklace. “I just… I think there might be a pattern here,” you said slowly, gesturing toward the map. “The locations of the victims—they’re not random. They’re clustered, but not in a way that’s immediately obvious. It’s like… like the unsub is following a specific route, but he’s deviating just enough to throw us off.”

Spencer’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and he turned his full attention to the board, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. “Go on,” he said, his voice encouraging.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. “If you look here,” you said, pointing to one of the pins on the map, “the first victim was found near this intersection. The second was a few blocks away, but still within walking distance. The third was further out, but if you draw a line connecting them, it’s almost like…” You trailed off, suddenly unsure if you were making any sense.

“Like he’s spiraling outward,” Spencer finished for you, his voice tinged with excitement. He stepped closer to the board, his eyes darting between the pins as he followed the pattern you had described. “You’re right. It’s not random. He’s moving in a deliberate pattern, but he’s expanding his radius each time.”

You nodded, relief washing over you as he validated your theory. “Exactly,” you said, your voice gaining a little more confidence. “And if we can predict where he’ll go next, we might be able to catch him before he strikes again.”

Spencer turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s… really good,” he said, his tone genuine. “I hadn’t considered that, but it makes perfect sense.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back, even as you tried to hide it by looking down at your notes. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I just… I didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong.”

Spencer shook his head, his expression softening. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself like that,” he said. “You have a good eye for details. You should trust your instincts more.”

His words caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment. “I’ll… try to remember that,” you said softly.

Spencer didn’t say anything else, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned back to the board, his mind already racing with the new information.

You stood there beside him, your heart still pounding in your chest, but for the first time, you felt a little less unsure of yourself.

Two days later, the case was finally wrapped up. The unsub was in custody, and the team was heading back to Quantico. The relief was palpable, but so was the exhaustion. You were walking toward the jet, your go bag slung over your shoulder, when Spencer caught up to you.

“Let me help you,” he said, reaching for your bag before you could protest.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, instinctively pulling the bag closer to you.

But before you could say anything else, he gently took the bag from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice soft as you glanced at him. He was walking beside you now, his pace matching yours, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he was.

Close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and subtle, like sandalwood and books.

Spencer just smiled, adjusting the strap of your bag on his shoulder as you walked. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the tarmac, and the sound of the team’s chatter filled the air as they made their way to the jet.

“You did good work on the case,” Spencer said after a moment, his tone casual but sincere. He glanced at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Really good, actually.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, and you quickly looked down, your fingers instinctively reaching for the necklace around your neck. You twisted the delicate chain between your fingers, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to break.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “That… means a lot.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his gaze on you, steady and thoughtful. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the jet now in sight.

The rest of the team was already boarding, their voices carrying across the tarmac as they chatted about the case and what awaited them back home.

When you reached the plane, Spencer stepped aside to let you board first. You murmured another quiet “thank you” as you climbed the steps, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

You climbed the steps onto the plane, settling into your usual seat by the window. Spencer followed, stowing the bags in the overhead compartment before sliding into the seat beside you.

The proximity made your breath catch, and you quickly busied yourself with adjusting your sweater, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing.

As the plane’s engines hummed to life, you found yourself fidgeting again, your fingers toying with the necklace around your neck. It was a nervous habit, one you couldn’t seem to shake, especially when Spencer was this close.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance at you, his gaze dropping to your hands before shifting back to your face.

For a moment, he hesitated, as if debating whether to say something. Then, without a word, he reached over, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he stilled your hand.

“You’re going to break it if you keep doing that,” he said softly, his voice low and warm.

You froze, your breath hitching as his touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. His hand lingered for a moment, his fingers lightly tracing the chain before he pulled away, leaving your skin tingling where he’d touched you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your face burning as you dropped your hand into your lap.

Spencer chuckled, the sound quiet but amused. “Don’t be,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “I just… don’t want you to ruin something that’s clearly important to you.”

You glanced at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something in his tone—something teasing but tender—that made your stomach twist.

“It’s just a habit,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he replied, his eyes meeting yours. “But you don’t have to be nervous around me, you know.”

Your breath caught, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the window as the plane began to taxi down the runway. “I’m not nervous,” you lied, your voice shaky.

Spencer didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his gaze on you, steady and unwavering. “Okay,” he said finally, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. “If you say so.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The plane lifted into the air, and you leaned back in your seat, the hum of the engines filling the silence between you.

After a few moments, Spencer shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the book he’d stashed in the seat pocket. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his fingers traced the spine of the book before he opened it.

For the rest of the flight, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sending a thrill through you.

And as you closed your eyes, the faintest of smiles on your lips, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Spencer Reid saw something in you that you hadn’t quite seen in yourself yet.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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highvern · 1 day ago

Text

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists. Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away.

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger.

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too.

It was fun.

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on.

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted.

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times.

“What the fuck did he do this time?”

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?”

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.”

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.”

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call.

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—”

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?”

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away.

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences?

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day.

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe.

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic.

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.”

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears.

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin.

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge.

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you.

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.”

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza.

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into.

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been.

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go.

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his.

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance.

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much.

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command.

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat.

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers.

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth.

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh.

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does.

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you.

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears.

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs.

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh.

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease.

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo.

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask.

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes.

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm. “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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unabletonotlovesatoru · 3 days ago

Text

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ 𝑶𝑯 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫, 𝑴𝒀 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑩𝑨𝑵𝑫 !!

. . . or how they react when you call them your husband.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: hey guys!!! kind of a new format here, i hope you like this <33 no warnings, just pure fluff and some mild suggestiveness. enjoy!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ nanami kento;

it’s a quiet evening, one of those rare nights where the world slows down just enough for you and nanami to breathe. he’s sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on his coffee, his glasses low on his nose as he reads through some paperwork. the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm light across his features, and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“hey, husband,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think about them.

nanami’s hand stills mid-sip. his eyes flick up to meet yours, the surprise clear in his gaze before his expression softens. the corner of his mouth tugs up ever so slightly, but it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, voice lower than usual, and you can see the shift in him—the way his shoulders relax, like the simple word has settled something deep inside him.

“husband,” you repeat, grinning a little at the effect it’s clearly having on him. “you know, because you’re mine.”

nanami places his mug down with a little more force than necessary, his gaze locked on you now, and for a moment, you think he might say something—something serious, maybe—but then he just shakes his head with a small, amused sigh.

“you’re lucky you’re so cute,” he mutters, standing up and walking toward you. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel his breath against your forehead as he leans down.

“because i’m not sure i’m going to survive being called that,” he whispers, his voice a little strained.

you laugh softly, your arms wrapping around his neck, and nanami presses his lips to the top of your head, lingering there for a moment.

“my husband,” you say again, just for the thrill of seeing the way he melts every time.

this time, when he pulls back, his smile is full-blown, and you can practically see the little spark in his eyes. “don’t do that to me, or we won’t make it to the couch.”

you laugh, tugging him closer, because you know exactly what you’re doing—and honestly, he isn’t worried about it at all.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ gojo satoru;

it’s a lazy afternoon, the kind that stretches on forever with no real plans except being near each other. gojo is lounging on the couch, wearing his usual smirk as he scrolls through his phone, while you’re curled up beside him, reading a book. the soft hum of the room and his occasional teasing glances are enough to make you feel like you’re in your own little bubble.

you’re halfway through a page when you glance at him, the words slipping out before you even realize what you’re saying.

“hey, husband,” you murmur casually, not expecting any reaction.

gojo freezes. his finger stops scrolling, and for the first time in a while, he looks at you with a completely genuine expression—no teasing, no smirks, just raw surprise in his eyes.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, his voice low, almost too calm, and you can see the hint of something dangerous flicker in his gaze.

you look up from your book, blinking innocently. “husband,” you say again, this time a little slower, emphasizing the word as you let it hang in the air. “because you are, don’t you know that?”

you watch as gojo’s lips part slightly, like he’s trying to process the word and what it means coming from you. his usual smugness is gone, replaced by something softer, a bit shaken, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“you just…” he starts, but his words trail off as he stares at you, his expression too focused. then, without warning, he’s up on his feet, his hands grabbing your shoulders, pulling you up to face him.

“say it again,” he breathes, his tone a mix of disbelief and pure want, like he’s hanging on every syllable.

you can’t help but grin. “husband,” you say again, this time with a little more emphasis, and that’s all it takes.

gojo’s eyes darken in an instant. his hand reaches for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his as he leans in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most desperate kiss. it’s nothing like his usual teasing or showy affection. this is pure, raw, and filled with a level of emotion that makes your heart race.

when he pulls back, he’s breathing hard, his fingers tracing the side of your face like he’s trying to memorize the moment. “i think you’re gonna kill me, you know that?” he mutters, his voice husky, eyes still searching yours.

you smile, softly, knowing that you’ve completely undone him—and that’s exactly how you like it. “sorry, husband,” you tease, your fingers gently brushing through his hair.

he groans, leaning his forehead against yours, the smile he can’t hide slowly spreading across his face. “god, i love it when you call me that.”

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ toji fushiguro;

toji doesn’t react to many things, not in the way most people would expect. his life is full of chaos, violence, and uncertainty, but he’s always been the type to keep a level head. nothing shakes him. nothing surprises him.

but when you say it—husband—his whole world tilts.

it happens as you’re standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while you chat with him. you’re discussing plans for the day, your voice light and easy, when you just… drop it.

“well, my husband can take care of that,” you say, dismissing the matter, your eyes not even leaving the sink as you dry the dishes.

and boom.

toji freezes. his hand, halfway to his cup, stills in mid-air. his breath catches, but he doesn’t let it show. still, his heart is beating a little faster than usual.

husband.

he swears the word rings in his ears, louder than anything he’s heard all day. husband.

his lips part as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out. he clears his throat, finding his voice a little rougher than he’d like.

“did you just say…?” his voice is lower than usual, darker, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s imagining things.

you glance up at him, blinking innocently, like you’ve said nothing extraordinary. “huh?”

he steps closer, his gaze unwavering, but there’s a glimmer of something new there—something raw, something that cracks his usual calm.

“husband.” his voice is a little rougher now, the word hanging in the air.

you laugh softly, but there’s that playful glint in your eyes. “yeah, that’s right. you’re my husband, aren’t you?”

toji’s chest tightens, a low growl escaping him as a smile creeps onto his lips. fuck.

“you can’t just say that so casually,” he mutters, voice laced with something dangerously close to satisfaction. “makes me wanna drag you off to bed every damn time.”

you raise an eyebrow, teasing. “oh? is that so, husband?”

he steps forward, now inches from you, his usual intimidating presence only amplifying. “damn straight.” his hands grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in, as his voice drops into a low murmur. “you’re gonna make me lose my mind, y’know that?”

and just like that, the man who rarely loses his composure, is falling apart—and it’s all because you called him your husband.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ sukuna ryoumen;

the air is thick with tension, but in that moment, everything feels still. sukuna lounges in his usual spot, perched with an air of arrogance that would intimidate anyone else—but not you. you’re sitting across from him, teasing him with a casual smile as you scroll through your phone.

suddenly, you glance up at him and, without thinking, the words slip out—perfectly natural.

“hey, husband,” you say, your voice light, casual, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

time stops. sukuna’s sharp eyes snap to you, narrowing in disbelief as his posture shifts, something flickering in the intensity of his gaze. he freezes, his usual confident sneer falling away just enough for you to notice.

“what did you just say?” his voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it now—something that wasn’t there before.

you blink, catching the shift in his demeanor. “husband,” you repeat, your tone playful. you’re not sure why you said it, but now that the words are out, you’re curious to see his reaction. “you know, because you are, aren’t you?”

sukuna’s eyes darken, the way his mouth twitches betraying the storm brewing beneath the surface. he stands slowly, his movements deliberate and precise, as if he’s trying to contain the surge of emotion that’s caught him off guard.

he closes the distance between you with a single step, and you’re already regretting your teasing. but then, he’s right in front of you, his hand cupping your chin with a grip that’s firm but not painful.

“you think you can just… say that to me?” his voice is gravelly now, laced with something darker, more possessive. there’s no hint of the cold detachment he usually carries—just raw, simmering intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

you swallow, looking up at him with a playful smile. “why not? you’re mine, after all.”

sukuna’s expression shifts—just slightly, but enough to make your heart race. he’s flustered. you almost can’t believe it.

without warning, he pulls you into him, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that’s almost feral. you gasp into the kiss, your mind reeling as he deepens it, his hand threading through your hair with an urgency that makes it clear how much he’s affected by those simple words.

when he finally pulls back, his breath is heavy, and he’s staring at you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “husband?” he repeats, his voice hoarse now. “you really think you can call me that and not expect consequences?”

you grin, looking up at him through your lashes. “well, if you’re my husband, then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

sukuna smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, something that makes you feel like you’ve won—this battle, at least.

“god help you.” he mutters, but his fingers brush gently against your cheek, and you know you’ve completely undone him.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ geto suguru;

it’s a quiet evening, the kind where everything feels too perfect, too serene. you’re sitting on the couch, tucked into the warmth of geto’s side, with a book in your lap. he’s absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, his other hand loosely holding his phone, but his attention is clearly more on you than anything else.

in a comfortable, almost lazy moment, you glance up at him, a soft smile curling at your lips.

“husband,” you say lightly, the word just slipping out as you continue to flip through the pages of your book.

geto’s entire body tenses, and for a split second, you wonder if you said something wrong. his gaze snaps down to you, and there’s something… off about the way he’s looking at you.

“what did you just call me?” he asks, his voice so smooth, so calm, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that betrays his sudden shift in mood.

you blink up at him, a little surprised. “husband,” you repeat, glancing at him with an innocent smile.

the change is immediate—his phone is forgotten, dropped carelessly to the side as he turns toward you fully, eyes darkening with something far more intense than just the usual affection.

“don’t say that again unless you’re ready for me to do something about it,” geto says, his voice dangerously low, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

you raise an eyebrow, unbothered by the sudden shift. “why? what are you going to do, hmm?”

the playful challenge in your voice makes his restraint snap. he pulls you to him in one fluid motion, pressing his lips to your forehead before trailing them down to your jaw, whispering in a tone that makes your heart race, “i’m going to make sure you never forget who your husband is.”

his hands find their way to your waist, and you can feel how he’s trying to hold himself back, his breath shallow as he searches your face for any sign that you’re joking. but there’s nothing in your eyes but genuine affection, a little teasing, and definitely not a hint of regret.

he groans softly, pressing his forehead against yours, breathing you in like he’s just discovered his favorite scent. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

you laugh, fingers brushing against his chest. “well, husband, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

he chuckles darkly, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

but as he pulls you closer, as his lips finally claim yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep, you know he wouldn’t want it any other way.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ higuruma hiromi;

the courtroom is silent, the weight of the day’s cases heavy in the air. but you and higuruma are taking a small break in his office, your presence calming after the whirlwind of legal battles. he’s sitting behind his desk, scribbling notes, but every now and then, his eyes drift to you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you read through a document.

you look up at him, the word slipping from your mouth without any hesitation.

“husband.”

his pen freezes mid-air. for a few seconds, it feels like the world pauses. his eyes widen, and his face flushes, a deep crimson spreading across his cheeks.

you blink, a little confused by his reaction. “husband?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow as you try to gauge his response.

higuruma clears his throat, his hand awkwardly adjusting the pen, as if he can’t quite focus on anything other than what you just said. “wait, you… you just called me—”

“husband,” you say again, this time with a grin.

he blinks rapidly, his mind clearly racing, and you can see the subtle shift in his demeanor. the normally composed lawyer seems completely rattled, and it only makes you want to tease him more.

“you—you’re calling me your husband?” he asks, his voice shaking just a little, like he’s struggling to believe it.

you nod, your smile widening as you slowly rise from your seat and walk toward him. “yeah, you’re my husband.”

higuruma’s breath catches, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that catches you off guard. before you can fully process it, he stands quickly, moving toward you in one swift motion, as if your words just completely shattered the calm exterior he always presents.

“god,” he mutters, his voice low and trembling as he pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “i wasn’t ready for that. you—you really just called me your husband.”

you giggle softly, feeling the way his heart beats rapidly against your chest. “well, you are my husband.”

“and here I thought I was the one who needed to keep it together,” he chuckles, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes your heart flutter. “you just—”

he pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “you just made me fall even more in love with you.”

you smile softly, your fingers gently brushing his cheek as you look up at him, your eyes meeting his with the kind of tenderness that only comes from the two of you together.

“higuruma,” you say, your voice teasing. “you’re mine. husband.”

and with that, he loses it all over again, pulling you into a kiss that feels like everything he’s been holding back is finally pouring out.

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navybrat817 · 1 day ago

Text

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that.

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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blastiebabe · 1 day ago

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hell yeah, you are spoiled

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

You place your phone somewhere Katsuki cannot notice, and in an angle enough to be able to see most of the space in the bedroom you share with him.

You press record and come back to sitting in front of your vanity table to continue getting ready for your date night. You have seen this TikTok video and was inspired by it to put your phone on record to test how easily your boyfriend can be enraged for you.

Katsuki comes into your shared bedroom wearing only trouser pants that fits perfectly in his waist and accentuate his hips. Seeing him through your mirror, you can't help but realize how beautiful your boyfriend is. Katsuki heads to the closet looking for a shirt to wear.

"Love, what color are you wearing?" He asks as he look at his clothes on the rack.

You came back to your senses when you heard him speak, you have been so mesmerized by his beauty you almost forgot you were shooting.

"A black dress." You replied, looking at his direction. "Why?"

Katsuki looks back at you. "Just askin'." He says as he brings out a black polo and proceeds to sit on the bed.

You smirk at his response. "You wanna match colors with me or somethin'?" You tease him.

"Nah uh." You watch his condescending expression from his reflection on the mirror, his tone with an attitude while simultaneously having red ears. If you aren't planning anything, you weren't gonna let that slide, but since you are, you'll prioritize that.

You laugh at him and continued your make up, trying to find the right time to throw him the reason you started recording. He laid on the bed scrolling on his phone while waiting for you.

A minute passed, and you decided to finally tell him. "Love..." Katsuki immediately darted his eyes straight at you, waiting for the next thing you'll say.

"I have something I need to tell you but promise you won't be mad, okay?" You say calmly, acting yourself the hell out.

Katsuki immediately changed his position and sits up straight, eyes locked at you with a hint of worry in his face. "I ain't making any promises. What is it?"

You turn your back on the mirror and faced your boyfriend who has now a visibly worried face. You look at the floor and started playing with your fingers, making him worry more.

He stands up and sits on the edge of the bed in front of you. He is now near you and looking straight at you while you continue to look at the floor. "Princess, come on, you can tell me..."

"Well, I... I have read some comments on your social media page..." You look at Katsuki before you, you feel a hint of guilt when you saw how genuine his concern is. But you needed to continue.

"Mm hmm. And then?" He asks calmly.

"And... and some of your fans have left comments on the pictures you have uploaded of me."

"The hell did they say?" Katsuki asks now with a hint of irritation from his voice. This is going well. You thought.

"They said I am super spoiled." You say as sad as your acting can be.

You can clearly see the shift in Katsuki's eyes as you have muttered the last word, and his annoyance suddenly became a repressed laughter. He snorts as he covers his mouth.

You face him offended. Did he just laugh because other people called you spoiled? What the fuck?

Before you can even tell him off, he stands up, grabs his polo and started wearing it. "Love, you are spoiled." He says emphasizing on it.

"Katsuki, what the actual fuck?" You say having a hard time to process what he is saying.

He was about to button his polo when he suddenly sees you look so disappointed to what he just said. He clearly isn't making himself clear. He goes in front you, his right knee touching the floor as he looks straight into your eyes.

"My love, you honestly better be spoiled. Because I do spoil you, don't I?" Katsuki reaches for your hands. "So, hell yeah, you are spoiled. Because you are my princess and you deserve to get everything you want."

You can literally feel your annoyance slowly fading out. How can this man be so damn mean and sweet at the same fucking time?

Katsuki continues, "I know you spoil yourself even before we started dating, so it is my job to spoil you better than you spoil yourself." You can straight up see how genuine his words are through his eyes.

"And if I may I remind you, I am more than willing to spoil you 'til the ends of the Earth if it means I get to make you be happiest you've ever been." The man before you explain as he cups your cheek with his hand.

This conversation has turned into a completely different route from what you had expected. You had expected him to be furious about the comments, to be protective to not let other people talk like that about you. But turns out Katsuki has his own way to make you feel so damn good. This. This is the reason why Katsuki is different from all the other damned extras.

You can literally feel tears forming in your eyeballs. You cup both his cheeks with your hands, knowing anytime the damned tears might just fall. "You know I love you so damn much, right?"

You feel his smile in the palm of your hands. "Of course I do, my love." As soon as these words depart from his lips, you took the opportunity to have your lips met his.

Using your tongue to explain and make him remember how much you love him, and all the other things you feel for him that can never be explained by words alone.

Your hands travel on the nape of his neck bringing him closer to you as you deepen the kiss. You feel his hands at the small of your back as he let you lead.

When your lips parted, both of you are catching for your breath. You stare at Katsuki's mesmerizing face before you with his eyes glistening. "Now that was a perfect example of how you spoil me."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ thank u for reading! :>> . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ༶•┈ by yel0ngkape ┈•༶ i accept requests, so feel free to reach out! ♡

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cutiecusp · 3 days ago

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Three's a crowd.

My first Ghoap drabble! Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x reader.

tw. talks of fantasy, sharing, threesome. HEA. MDNI!

"You want me to do what?" You exclaim, your voice high enough to startle the person in front of you. Standing in the queue for your morning coffee on the phone to your husband, Simon.

"Its just a fantasy i had, love. It's not important." You hear him reply, his deep voice smooth down the line.

"No- No i mean I'm open to it, but dropping it on me while I'm in the queue, Simon?" You ask, eyes flicking up to the board, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.

"I've just been thinking about it, and i know we talked about expanding things in the bedroom, didn't we?"

Your gaze landed on the cake pops as you nod, forgetting he cant see you.

"You there, love?" He chuckles, his voice light, as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell on you in public.

"I'm here, just processing." You reply, your face pink at the thought of the suggestion.

Drink and cake pop in hand, you find a quiet corner of the café.

"Is it a one time thing, or do you want more?" You ask softly, your thoughts running wild.

"Up to you, whatever is comfortable for you." Simon replies.

"And you want him to watch, or-?" Your face aflame, you hope no one is close enough to hear your conversation, your gaze flittering around the room.

Seemingly safe, you take a sip from your drink, cherishing the insane amount of sugar and cream in it.

"I want a night with you both, i see the way you look at him too, dove."

You almost choke on your drink, although you were happily married to Simon, and had been for years, there was something charming about the cheeky Scot who ate all your cookies and pressed a friendly kiss into your hair in thanks.

"Si- i don't-" You stutter, your voice cracking.

"Don't need to hide it, i understand." He says softly, his voice almost wistful.

"What if he says no, I'd be so embarrassed." You admit, gripping your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"Who do you think suggested it, love?" He replies.

You feel your pulse race in your throat as you clear it, your mouth unable to form words.

Johnny wanted this too?

"Uh, yeah, okay babe. If its what you want?" Your throat dry, you take another sip from your cup.

"Can't think of a better way to spend the night with my two favourite people." Simon chuckles down the phone.

A cough from behind you interrupts your phone call, turning round, you look into a familiar set of eyes.

"Why are you blushing so hard, Bon?" a deep, Scottish brogue asks.

"Ah, he's there." You hear your husband say through the phone.

"Meet you both at home." He says before hanging up.

Your eyes connect with Johnny's, and you were shocked to see the dark lust behind his eyes.

Holding out a hand, he looks down at you, taking in your flushed face, and the way your thighs are squeezed tightly together, a flicker of a satisfied grin on his face as his eyes travel from your face to your shoes and back again.

"Ready to go home?" he smiles again, the innocence of the question perfect for public, with the promise of more underneath.

You are unable to speak, so give a shaky nod before placing your hand in his, unable to ignore the electricity between you.

He urges you forward, collecting your cup and bag, before settling his hand on your lower back, the heat of his hand branding you forever.

He leans past you to get the door, his body brushing past you as you blush harder.

"Can't wait to see where else you blush, Bonnie." He whispers into the shell of your ear.

"I have a feeling you are going to be a very good girl for us."

.....................................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

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summertimesadnessirl · 3 days ago

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They literally just want to pretend that the whole last 50 odd years never happened.

It's so weird. Like? What did you do that you are like this, buddy? Let's talk about it.

Are you upset because you got programmed from birth to believe sex is evil and now you can't get off unless you think God is mad at you and you're committing a crime and one of the people involved in the sex hates it?

Have you heard of BDSM? Because we can literally simulate that feeling just for you using technology for the rest of your life without you having to take over the entire government and kill off a bunch of nice kids with blue hair and shaved eyebrows or who go by a word that makes you think you can't be a naughty boy for wanting to have sex wearing clothes from a different gender occasionally, and those people literally don't care if you wanna be called slurs for doing that when you have sex, believe it or not.

What's your deal? Did it turn out you don't like sex, you just like the idea of something mysterious and otherworldly and pleasureable that nobody introduced you to that other people are totally doing? Because we can fix you right up with drugs and intentionally confusing poetry.

Yeah. You can even start your very own mystery cult if you want, as long as you don't commit genocide or anything. We can all pretend to not know about your mystery cult. We can all pretend to be bad guys from your mystery cult. We can play that game until you barely remember your own name, it's fine.

Do you just need someone to take care of you, like in a disability accommodation kind of way? Or like, are you working too many hours? We can't really fix that with bdsm. We can play that but typically the people doing bdsm only want to play that for a few hours at a time before they need a break, but have you heard about the wonders of automation?

Yeah. We can automate a lot of the stuff that stresses you out like cleaning your floors and paying your bills on time and reordering your prescriptions and your groceries and stuff. It would work better if the minimum wage was higher and the average person got paid more often than biweekly, and we still really need to design housing with a washing machine in the bathroom that washes and dries your clothes instead of putting them in the hamper, but look, we made a little guy who lives in your computer who can take every meeting that should have been an email and turn it into a bulleted list for you. We can also do this thing where he draws pictures of your boss experiencing cartoonish violence or turning into like a weird bug when you are being bullied and it can protect you pretty well from The Emails as well. Yes. I know. The emails are scary.

If your job is really stressing you out you should meet my new friend fully automated luxury communism sometime. Their idea is that we should automate all the jobs where it seems like most of your day is spent kind of hanging out hoping that your boss doesn't realize you aren't working and getting a super high cortisol level for no reason or filling out forms to send to people who use the forms to fill out other forms who get approval via some more forms to make a phone call to a guy who works 20 feet away and give everyone a dividend so that they can work fewer hours and hang out. Yeah, there are a lot of people who believe this who enjoy fighting over the details of that, it's their hobby and also they're all afraid if they don't fight one another a lot they'll turn evil. No, not the sexy kind of evil, the other kind.

Do you need clearly defined rules that you are supposed to follow in social situations in order to feel safe, but also bdsm isn't your thing because you also need other people to follow clearly defined rules? Have you tried video games, team sports, or tabletop games? You might like those.

Did someone hurt you when you were young and call it gender and you didn't realize it because you thought that was just a normal part of growing up and you are getting uncomfortable flashbacks about that time, but talk therapy super doesn't work for you because talking about it makes it worse? That's valid. Have you tried psychedelic drugs yet? Psychedelic drugs have been used to fix that problem and many others like it for generations and generations. Using the magic of psychedelic drugs, we can make sure that you feel totally fine and safe whenever you interact with people being raised in a different way than you were and even carefully obliterate all traces of your childhood trauma for decades at a time. We also can continue to give you more, if that works for ya.

There's really no reason to do nazi shit at all.

Btw, this is how conservatives keep getting to claim that trans people are a new thing no one has ever heard, because our history and existences have continually been erased or obscured systematically through out history.

The most famous example was 92 years when the Nazis raided the library of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, the medical practice where the term transsexual was first coined and the first gender affirming surgery was performed in in 1931.

What did the Nazis do after raiding the library on May 6th, 1933? You may be familiar with these images

It is happening again.

#im gonna find emperor nero and force him to have gay sex with a pregnant donkey using a strap on and then stick a lab grown fucking #fetal clone of himself to his back #and then im gonna parade that fucker through the streets #it wont help but

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moonlightdreamzz · 3 days ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY — YANG JUNGWON. ♡

goodnight and go

SUMMARY. It's your man's birthday, and you've pulled out all the stops to make sure it's the best one yet.

GENRE. Superrrrrr fluffy + Smut

THEMES. A continuation of Goodnight n Go. Established!Relationship, Idol!Jungwon x Reader, A day full of surprises!! Jungwon has had a very rough and tiring year. Be prepared to feel the feels.

WARNINGS. Mentions of alcohol, everyone gets drunk eventually, drunk birthday $ e x.

FEAT. All members of Enha + TXT members.

AUTHORS NOTE. Happy early birthday to my baby, Yang Jungwon. I forever love you. You deserve the world <333

“Roses are red, violets are blue…” you sing out loud, your eyes focused intently on the crisp white sheet of paper in front of you. Your pen taps rhythmically against the edge of the desk as you will something—anything—poetic to flow from your lips.

Your voice, unfortunately, isn’t half as good as Jay’s. He proves this by letting out a long, dramatic sigh from where he’s sitting across from you, glaring at you with pure disappointment.

“…Your rhymes are bad, and I don’t know what to do,” Jay cuts in, his eyebrows furrowing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You pause mid-tap and look up at him, feigning offense. “Excuse me, Mr. Park Shakespeare. Where’s your masterpiece, huh?”

Jay smirks, holding up his phone like it’s a trophy. “Already sent. A voice memo. I serenaded him like the angel I am.”

You groan, throwing your head back in defeat before glaring at the nearly blank card on your desk. “Not all of us are blessed with vocal cords made of gold, Jay. Some of us have to work with this.” You wave the pen in his direction.

“Then work faster,” Jay shoots back, leaning back in his chair. “His first party starts in three hours, and that sad excuse for a card won’t write itself.”

“You’re talking about me, but don’t you have a cake to go pickup right about…” you look at the non existent watch on your left arm for dramatic effect before continuing, “now?”

His hands quickly reach behind him to grab the pillow that he was leaning on—your favorite pillow may you add, chucking it at you playfully before standing up. He brushes the invisible dirt off his pants on his journey to slide his shoes on that rested in front of your door.

“You know, I come here to not feel like I’m with Jungwon, but then you act just like him.”

“Well they don’t call us bestfriends to lovers for no reason, now do they?” You snicker, stealthily grabbing your pillow that he threw and returning the favor. It bounces off his back

Jay turns around, catching the pillow mid-bounce before glaring at you. “You’re lucky it’s his birthday tomorrow, or I’d—”

“You’d what? Throw another pillow? Oh no, Jay, not the cushions!” you tease, laughing as he shakes his head in mock annoyance.

He slips his shoes on and pulls out his phone, muttering something about being surrounded by children before glancing back at you. “Alright, I’m off. Try not to stress too much, okay? The card looks fine. And don’t let Jungwon’s puppy eyes make you spiral into thinking you need to write him an epic poem or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off with a grin. “Don’t forget the cake! And text me when you get there!”

Jay points at you as he opens the door. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you salute as the door closes behind him.

The apartment falls quiet again, and you glance at the clock. Just a little over two hours until the clock strikes midnight and you get to surprise Jungwon with the start of what would hopefully be his best birthday yet.

You pick up the card again, running your fingers over the envelope. The words you’d written earlier suddenly feel inadequate. Jay was right—Jungwon would be happy with just spending time together. But he meant too much to you to settle for “just.”

You tuck the card back into your bag, grab the gift, and head into your bedroom to check on the other surprises you had planned for tomorrow. As you smooth out the edges of the decorations and double-check the little details, a text pops up on your phone.

Jay: Cake secured. Looks too good to be real. Don’t screw this up, Shakespeare.

You snort, typing back a quick response.

You: Just focus on getting it here in one piece. I’ve got everything else under control.

As you smooth out the wrapping paper on the little box, your thoughts drift to the last few months—how everything shifted the night you and Jungwon built gingerbread houses together. It was supposed to be a simple holiday tradition, but somehow, by the end of the night, there’d been flour in his hair, icing on your cheeks, and a kiss so soft it felt like a dream.

Now, months later, the tension that used to linger between you both had melted away. There were no more stolen glances, no more unspoken confessions. Just him, loving you in ways you never even thought to ask for, and you, loving him back with everything you had.

You glance at the clock again. 9:57 PM. Two hours until midnight, and for the first time, you get to be the one to make Jungwon feel special on his birthday.

Jay’s words echo in your head. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. But what Jay didn’t know—what no one really understood—was just how much Jungwon had you wrapped around his.

The way he always manages to make you feel safe, no matter what chaos life throws your way. His love shines so clearly in how attentive he is, always noticing when you’re stressed or tired, even before you do. The quiet way he folds your blanket when you leave it on the couch. The way he checks in on you, not with grand gestures but with little questions like, Did you eat? Are you warm enough?

And then there’s his unique way of thinking that keeps you on your toes. The way his eyes light up when he gets passionate about something, how he always challenges you to see the world in new ways. He’s thoughtful and curious, always asking questions that make you stop and think.

But it’s his passion that really leaves you breathless—the fire he hides beneath that calm exterior. He loves with an intensity that catches you off guard sometimes. Like how he randomly grabs your hand in public, tugging you closer with that confident grin, or the way his kisses always seem just a little more passionate than the last.

And the way he looks at you… it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

Jay would say you’re being dramatic. Maybe you are. But it’s hard not to be when it comes to Jungwon.

The sound of your phone buzzing pulls you from your thoughts. You grab it and see his name on the screen.

Jungwon: Are you still with Jay?

You smile, typing back quickly.

You: Nope, he left. It’s just me now.

Jungwon: Good. I don’t like sharing you with him for too long.

You laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s such a Jungwon thing to say—playful but with just enough honesty that you can feel the weight behind it.

You: Possessive much?

Jungwon: Only with you.

Biting your lip, you set the phone down, unable to stop smiling. You’re about to spend his birthday with him in a way you never imagined just a year ago. Back then, he was your best friend, and now… now, he’s the person you can’t picture life without.

As you gather the last few decorations, you make a mental note to thank past you for saying yes to that first kiss.

Midnight couldn’t come fast enough.

You park outside the HYBE building, your fingers gripping the steering wheel as you try to calm the nervous energy bubbling inside you. The whole ride over, you couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot, but how could you not? You’re the worst at keeping surprises, and Jungwon—being as perceptive as he is—has probably already picked up on the fact that you’re up to something.

You check your phone one last time, scanning through messages from his members and the other idols crammed into your apartment right now.

Jay: He better cry. I’m not doing this again.

Sunghoon: Make sure you stall him if we’re still lighting candles when you get here.

Taehyun: Don’t let him figure it out, or I’m telling everyone how bad you are at holding your liquor.

You roll your eyes with a laugh, texting back a quick thumbs-up before stepping out of the car. Jungwon’s already waiting for you by the doors, bundled in a long coat and scarf.

His face lights up the second he sees you, his smile soft and familiar as he jogs over to the car. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the passenger seat, his tone warm and teasing. “You’re early. That’s new.”

“Wow, hello to you too,” you say, pretending to be offended. But your grin gives you away.

Jungwon leans back in his seat, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “What’s with the smile?”

“What smile?” you deflect, starting the car and pulling out onto the road.

“The one that says you’re hiding something,” he replies easily, cutting straight to the point.

Your heart skips, and you quickly look out the window to avoid his gaze. “I’m just happy to see you, birthday boy.”

“Uh-huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. But he doesn’t press further, instead resting his arm on the center console so his hand is close to yours.

The drive feels both too long and too short. Every passing minute makes your excitement grow, but you’re also painfully aware of how close you are to giving yourself away. When you finally pull into your apartment complex, you cut the engine and glance over at him.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon raises a brow. “What?”

“Just do it!” you laugh, reaching over to cover his eyes with your hands.

He chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “You’re so bad at this, you know that?”

“Shut up and trust me,” you say, stepping out of the car and walking around to his side.

He keeps his eyes closed like you asked, though you can tell he’s holding back a smile. You guide him up the stairs to your apartment, your hands lightly on his shoulders to steer him.

When you finally reach the door, you take a deep breath, barely able to contain your excitement. You push it open, leading him inside before dropping your hands.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Open your eyes.”

Jungwon blinks a few times, adjusting to the dim light. His jaw drops the second he takes in the room.

His members are the first thing he notices, all grinning at him like they’ve won the lottery. “Happy birthday!” they yell in unison, their voices echoing through the room.

But it doesn’t stop there. He sees Taehyun, Soobin, and a few other friends from other groups, all cheering and laughing as he stands frozen in the doorway. The walls are decorated with baby pictures and birthday banners, and the table is covered in gifts, letters, and a cake that’s lit with candles.

Jungwon turns to you, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “What is this?”

“It’s for you,” you say, biting your lip nervously. “Surprise.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his eyes darting from the decorations to the faces of everyone who showed up. Then his gaze lands on you, softening as he shakes his head with a laugh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, his voice filled with warmth.

“And you’re welcome,” Jay calls from across the room, already holding up a tray of shots. “Now, come on, birthday boy, we’ve got a lot of embarrassing toasts to make.”

“And don’t forget shot o clock!” Jake yells seemingly from the darkness.”

Jungwon glances around the room, his heart swelling as he takes in the scene again. His members are goofing off, Taehyun is teasing Sunghoon about something, and Jay is still holding court over the shots table like he owns it. But through all the noise and laughter, his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

You’re standing by the table, quietly fixing a balloon that got knocked out of place. You’re not even looking at him, but there’s something about the way you carry yourself—so sure, so thoughtful, so you—that has him rooted to the spot.

The past year flashes in his mind. It’s been the best year of his life, no question. He got you, the girl he’d quietly loved for so long, the one who knew him better than anyone else. And somehow, despite his flaws, you’d loved him back with an intensity he never thought he deserved.

But it hasn’t been easy.

Being leader means there’s never really an “off” switch. He’s constantly juggling responsibilities, navigating the needs of his members, the demands of the company, and the weight of expectations from the fans. It’s a role he takes seriously—it’s who he is—but it’s also exhausting.

The late nights spent writing and recording. The endless meetings and rehearsals. The pressure to be a pillar of strength when his members need him, even when he feels like he’s crumbling inside.

Some days, he barely has time to breathe.

And yet, through all the chaos, there’s you.

You, who seem to know exactly when he needs to hear your voice. You, who show up at just the right time, armed with his favorite snack or a silly joke to lighten his mood. You, who love him not because he’s Jungwon of ENHYPEN, but because he’s Jungwon, the boy who eats his cereal too slowly and hums when he’s concentrating.

Standing here now, with you and everyone he cares about in the same room, he feels seen in a way he hasn’t in a long time. Not as a leader. Not as an idol. But as a person.

And God, does it mean everything.

His chest tightens as the realization hits him: this—you—is his safe place. The one thing that’s kept him grounded through it all.

“Hey,” you call softly, pulling him from his thoughts. You’ve noticed him staring, and your brow furrows in that adorable way it does when you’re worried about him. “You okay?”

He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m more than okay.”

“Alright, everybody!” you call, clapping your hands together and stepping behind the makeshift bar you set up on your kitchen counter. “It’s officially shock o’clock! Who’s ready to turn Jungwon into a real 21-year-old tonight?”

A loud cheer erupts from the room, and Jungwon groans, his head falling into his hands as he sits on the couch. “Why do I feel like this is going to haunt me tomorrow?” he mutters, though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Because it will!” Sunghoon yells, already reaching for one of the brightly colored shot glasses you laid out.

You grin and pick up the bottle of Ciroc, the cool glass catching the light as you wave it in the air. “Y’all, I’ve been waiting all week to make this boy take his first real shot,” you say, pouring a generous amount into a shaker. “So, as your certified bartender for the night, let’s kick this off the right way!”

Jay leans against the counter, giving you a skeptical look. “You know you’re not certified, right?”

“Certified by vibes, Jay. Vibes,” you reply, adding a splash of fruit juice to the mix before giving the shaker an overly dramatic shake.

The room is alive with laughter and music as you pour the first round of shots, the bright liquid glinting in the light. One by one, everyone grabs a glass—Taehyun’s eyes light up as he claims the lime green one, while Sunoo and Jake argue over who gets the pink one.

Finally, you grab a shot glass for yourself and hold it up, nodding toward Jungwon. “Okay, birthday boy, this one’s for you. No backing out now.”

He stands reluctantly, his expression a mix of amusement and mild horror. “You really won’t let me sit this one out, huh?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, your grin mischievous. “You deserve to let loose for once. So, here’s the deal: tonight, you’re not leader Jungwon. You’re just Jungwon. And we’re going to celebrate like crazy because, for once, you’re not allowed to be responsible.”

The room cheers in agreement, and Jungwon lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fine. One shot.”

“One?” Sunghoon says, pretending to be offended. “Nah, it’s shock o’clock all night, my guy.”

Jungwon takes the glass from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. He looks at you, a quiet fondness in his eyes that makes your heart skip. “You really planned all this for me?”

You nod, your voice softening. “Of course I did. You deserve to have fun, Won. Just… let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

His lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and he raises the glass. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The room counts down—“Three, two, one!”—and everyone throws back their shots, the air immediately filling with the sound of gasps, laughter, and groans.

Jungwon coughs slightly, his eyes wide as he sets the glass down. “What was that?”

“Freedom,” you reply with a wink, already pouring the next round.

1:00AM

As the night goes on, you make it your mission to keep the energy alive. You mix drinks with questionable accuracy, cheer the loudest during impromptu dance battles, and even drag Jungwon into a game of flip cup that ends with him laughing so hard he can barely stand.

And for the first time in a long time, you see him completely let go.

His laughter fills the room, his shoulders relax, and there’s a lightness to him that makes your heart swell. He’s not worried about schedules or responsibilities. He’s just Jungwon, a 21-year-old boy surrounded by people who love him.

The room is a swirling mess of laughter and slurred words, the empty Ciroc bottle now serving as the centerpiece for an increasingly wild game of Truth or Dare. Jay and Jake are collapsed on the couch, practically crying with laughter over some inside joke, while Sunoo is doubled over after losing a dare that involved chugging a questionable mix of soda and melted ice cream.

You, still feeling a pleasant buzz but mostly sober, keep a watchful eye on Jungwon, who’s slouched on the floor with flushed cheeks and a lazy grin. He’s definitely the drunkest, though his giggles and the way he clings to your arm are undeniably cute.

“You okay, birthday boy?” you whisper, leaning down so only he can hear.

He nods, blinking up at you with half-lidded eyes. “I’m great,” he mumbles. Then, with a goofy smile, he adds, “You’re so pretty. Have I told you that yet?”

Your heart squeezes, but you shake your head with a laugh. “Not in the last five minutes.”

“Hey! No whispering!” Sunghoon shouts, pointing dramatically at the two of you. “It’s your turn, Jungwon!”

Jungwon sits up straighter, wobbling a little as he tries to focus. “Fine! Truth.”

“Oh, we’re not going easy on you,” Taehyun says, his sharp gaze playful as he leans forward. “Alright, truth: who’s your celebrity crush?”

The room bursts into a chorus of “Oooohs,” and Jungwon scrunches his nose, clearly trying to think through the haze of alcohol. “That’s easy,” he slurs, pointing at you without hesitation. “Y/N’s my crush. And my girlfriend. And she’s way better than any celebrity.”

Your face heats up as everyone howls with laughter and cheers.

“Dude, we meant besides her,” Jay says, shaking his head, though he’s clearly amused.

“Well, that’s my answer,” Jungwon says stubbornly, crossing his arms like a pouty kid.

Your heart swells, and you squeeze his hand gently. “You’re so cute,” you whisper, but he doesn’t hear you over Sunoo daring Taehyun to serenade Sunghoon.

The game continues, the dares growing more ridiculous and the truths more revealing. Jake gets dared to text his old high school crush, while Sunghoon reluctantly admits he once fell off stage during a rehearsal and blamed it on a tech issue.

When it’s Jungwon’s turn again, Taehyun smirks. “Alright, leader-nim. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Jungwon says, his words slightly slurred but still clear enough to understand.

“Tell us the sweetest thing Y/N’s ever done for you,” Taehyun challenges, a knowing grin on his face.

Jungwon’s expression softens instantly, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, it’s like the rest of the room fades away.

“Everything she does is sweet,” he says quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “But… I think the sweetest thing is just how much she cares. Like tonight.” He gestures around the room, his eyes glossy but full of emotion. “She didn’t have to do all this, but she did. She always does. She makes me feel like… like I’m not just the leader. Like I’m not just some idol.”

The room falls silent, everyone staring at Jungwon in awe.

“She makes me feel loved,” he finishes, his words stumbling a little but hitting straight to your heart. “And I love her for that. I love her so much.”

Your breath catches, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. You lean down, cupping his face in your hands as you whisper, “I love you too, Jungwon.”

The spell is broken when Sunghoon shouts, “Oh my God, you two are disgusting!”

Jungwon sticks his tongue out at him, and you laugh, brushing his hair back from his face. “Alright, that’s enough truth or dare for him,” you say, helping him up. “I think the birthday boy needs some water.”

The room erupts in protests, but you ignore them, guiding Jungwon toward the kitchen. As he leans heavily against you, he mumbles, “I meant it, you know. I really love you.”

“I know, baby,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And I really love you too.”

Back in the living room, the chaos is still going strong. Jay is attempting to freestyle a birthday rap with Sunoo beatboxing (poorly), while Taehyun cheers them on from the couch. Jungwon, now armed with a glass of water you forced him to drink, flops back onto the floor beside you, watching the scene from the kitchenwith a lazy grin.

“Hey,” he slurs suddenly, turning to you with squinted eyes, “why aren’t you drunk?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? I am drunk!”

Jungwon snorts, leaning closer as if to inspect you. “You’re a liar,” he says, poking your cheek. “I’ve seen you drunk, and it’s not this. You get all giggly and… and you can’t even walk straight.”

“I can’t walk straight now!” you argue, laughing as you shove his shoulder.

He shakes his head dramatically, pointing a wobbly finger at you. “Nope. Not buying it. You got me drunk—got all of us drunk—but you’re over here being all… responsible and sober. Not fair.”

“I’m not being responsible!” you protest, standing up with an exaggerated stumble for effect. “See? Totally buzzed.”

Jungwon raises an unimpressed eyebrow, then grins mischievously. “Prove it.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Prove what?”

“Take a shot,” he challenges, reaching for the Ciroc bottle. “Take three, actually. Match me.”

“Oh, I’m matching you?” you ask, your voice laced with playful defiance. “Bet.”

The group catches wind of the exchange and immediately starts chanting, “SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!” like a rowdy audience at a college party.

“Don’t do it, Y/N!” Sunoo warns dramatically. “He’s trying to corrupt you!”

“I don’t need his help!” you shoot back, snatching the bottle from Jungwon’s hand. “Let’s go!”

You pour the first shot and down it without hesitation, the burn making your face scrunch up as everyone cheers. Jungwon watches you with wide, amused eyes, clearly impressed.

“Another,” he says, leaning closer, his grin turning sly. “C’mon, baby, keep up.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you warn, pouring a second shot and throwing it back just as quickly.

The crowd erupts again, but your focus stays locked on Jungwon, who’s leaning in even closer now. His warm, alcohol-flushed face is just inches from yours, and his hand brushes your thigh as he steadies himself.

“You’re really doing it,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Please,” you tease, pouring the third shot. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

But as you lift the glass to your lips, Jungwon’s hand catches yours, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Wait,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Lemme help you.”

Before you can ask what he means, he tips the glass toward your mouth himself, his gaze never leaving yours. You let him, the shot burning your throat as his free hand slides up your back to your neck, pulling you closer.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

Your breath hitches, the mix of alcohol and his touch sending a rush of heat through you. “You’re drunk,” you whisper back, though your voice wavers.

“Yeah,” he admits, his lips now grazing your jaw. “Drunk in love with you.”

The room around you fades into the background noise of laughter and cheers as Jungwon’s kisses trail down to your neck. His hands find your waist, pulling you onto his lap, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and intoxicating.

“You’re matching me now,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. “But I think you need one more shot.”

“I’ll take it,” you say, your own boldness surprising you. “If you take it with me.”

Jungwon grins, his lips brushing yours. “Deal.”

You pour two more shots, the tension between you thick enough to drown out everything else. As you clink glasses and down them together, his hands tighten around your waist, and you know this night is far from over.

2:25AM

The party was in full swing now, the bass from Young Nudy’s Peaches and Eggplants rattling the walls of your apartment. The music, the drinks, the flashing LED lights you set up earlier—all of it had turned your cozy little space into a full-blown club.

Your careful planning was paying off, too. A pile of pillows and blankets was stacked in the corner for when the inevitable “too drunk to drive” moment arrived, which you knew was only a matter of time. You’d even stocked up on water bottles and ibuprofen for the morning-after chaos.

But for now, the only thing on your mind was Jungwon.

“Y/N, let him breathe for a second!” Sunghoon hollered from across the room, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“Like you’re not going to be wrapped up with someone in 10 minutes,” you fired back, throwing a playful glare in his direction.

Jungwon, who was securely stationed behind you, laughed against your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as you swayed to the beat. The warmth of his touch burned through the fabric of your dress, and every time you shifted your weight, you felt him tighten his hold on you like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“You’re too good at this,” he mumbled into your ear, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“At what?” you asked, tossing a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“Everything,” he replied without hesitation, his eyes gleaming under the party lights. “Planning this, dancing like this… driving me insane like this.”

“Good,” you teased, leaning back against his chest.

“Good?” he repeated, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re lucky there’s a room full of people here right now.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but before you could respond, Sunoo appeared beside you, holding up a bottle of tequila like it was a trophy. “Dance floor shots! Let’s go!”

The crowd cheered, and you found a small plastic cup being shoved into your hand. Jungwon reluctantly released his grip on you as Sunoo poured, but his other hand stayed at your waist, possessively.

“Cheers to Jungwon!” Sunoo yelled, lifting his own cup in the air.

“To Jungwon!” everyone echoed, and you both tossed back your drinks.

As the burn hit your throat, you turned back to Jungwon, who was already watching you with that mischievous grin you loved so much. The alcohol had fully hit you now, making the edges of your vision blur and your inhibitions dissolve into the music.

“Let’s dance,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the middle of the room.

This time, there was no hesitation. Jungwon’s hands found your waist again, guiding you as you moved in sync to the beat. You let yourself go completely, swaying and grinding against him as the music pulsed around you.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered against your neck, his breath warm and heavy.

“You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with confidence.

“I do,” he admitted, his hands sliding down your sides. “But I don’t think I can wait much longer, baby.”

Your heart raced as his lips brushed against your ear again, his voice dropping even lower. “Tell me everyone’s got a place to sleep tonight, because I need you all to myself.”

You turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as your lips brushed his. “I planned for everything,” you whispered, your voice soft but sultry.

“Good,” he murmured, closing the gap between you.

The world around you faded as his lips captured yours, his hands pulling you flush against him. The cheers and hollers from your friends became distant background noise as you got lost in the moment.

But Jungwon didn’t stop there. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and full of unspoken promises. “Let’s get to that bed, Y/N,” he whispered.

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a knowing smile, you grabbed his hand and started leading him toward the bedroom, the rest of the party disappearing behind you.

As soon as the door to your bedroom clicked shut behind you, Jungwon was on you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His hands framed your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you close as he backed you up toward the bed.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” you teased between kisses, your words a little breathless from the intensity.

“It’s my birthday,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. “I get to do whatever I want, right?”

You didn’t argue.

The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you let him guide you down onto the soft mattress. He followed without hesitation, hovering over you as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, and then down to your neck. The weight of his body against yours was grounding, but the way his hands explored every inch of you sent your heart racing.

“Jungwon…” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. “Wait,” you say, your voice breathy and slurred with the alcohol still coursing through your system. He groans, clearly not happy about the interruption. “I have to give you your first gift before you get your… last gift of the night.” You bite your lip, a teasing glint in your eye.

Jungwon chuckles softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re killing me here, Y/N.”

You giggle, taking a step back and swaying slightly as you try to steady yourself. “Patience, birthday boy.”

Still buzzing with excitement, you clear your throat dramatically and start singing Happy Birthday—off-key, loud, and completely unhinged. Jungwon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he doubles over. “Oh my God, you’re so drunk,” he teases between laughs, his eyes crinkling in the way that makes your heart flutter.

“Shut up! This is serious,” you reply, wagging a finger at him. You finish the song with a theatrical bow, nearly tripping in the process, and he catches you with ease.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but his smile is so soft, so full of love, that it makes your cheeks burn.

“Okay, okay, focus,” you say, stumbling over to your dresser. You pull out a small red Cartier box and turn to face him, holding it up like it’s the Holy Grail. His eyes widen immediately.

“Y/N… what did you do?”

You smile shyly, stepping closer and opening the box to reveal a sleek, gold Cartier bracelet. “Happy birthday, Jungwon. You deserve this—and so much more.”

His jaw drops as he stares at the bracelet, speechless. “This is… Y/N, this is too much.”

“Shh,” you cut him off, clasping the bracelet onto his wrist with unsteady hands. “You’re worth every penny.”

As soon as the bracelet is secure, you pull out your next gift: a silver chain with your name on it. “So you can take me everywhere,” you say with a giggle, draping it around his neck. His fingers brush over the pendant, and for a moment, you think he might cry.

“Y/N…”

“Wait, there’s one more,” you interrupt, suddenly serious. You grab a folded piece of paper from your nightstand—the letter you’d been agonizing over all day. “This one… this one’s really important.”

Jungwon looks at you with wide, curious eyes as he takes the paper from your hand. He sits down on the edge of the bed, carefully unfolding it. His expression softens as he begins to read, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

Jungwon,

Where do I even start? There are a million things I could say about you, but I’ll try to keep this from turning into a novel.

This past year with you has been the best year of my life. I never thought I’d find someone who could see me the way you do—who could make me feel so safe, so wanted, so loved. But then you came along, and you’ve shown me over and over again what love really looks like.

You work so hard every day, and I see how much you carry on your shoulders. You give your heart to everyone—your members, your fans, your family—and you rarely stop to take care of yourself. But that’s where I come in, okay? I want to be the person who makes it easier for you to breathe. I want to be your home, your peace, your everything—because that’s what you are to me.

I know you don’t always feel like you deserve the good things in life, but you do, Jungwon. You deserve everything. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you’ll let me.

Thank you for being you. For loving me. For letting me love you.

Happy birthday, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N

By the time he finishes, his hands are trembling slightly, and he looks up at you with glossy eyes.

“You really did all of this for me?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“Of course I did,” you reply softly, sitting beside him. “You deserve to feel loved and celebrated, Jungwon. You’ve given so much of yourself to everyone else. This year… I wanted to give something back to you.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Don’t say anything,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him deeply. “Just let me love you tonight.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy but filled with so much emotion that it almost overwhelmed you. “Y/N,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I don’t even know how to say this right, but… thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat.

“For all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the party still raging on the other side of the door. “For tonight. For… for being you. You didn’t have to go this hard, but you did. You always do.”

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze. “You deserve it,” you said simply, reaching up to cup his cheek.

His lips curved into a small smile as he leaned into your touch. “You make me feel like I deserve it,” he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. “And that’s crazy to me. I never thought I’d get to feel this way about someone. I never thought someone would care about me like this.”

“Jungwon…”

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted gently, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. “I suck at talking about my feelings, but I need you to know this. The past year has been insane—like, absolutely insane. I’ve been exhausted, overwhelmed, questioning if I can even keep up sometimes… but you? You make it all worth it. Every single hard day, every single doubt—it doesn’t matter because I have you.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as you listened to him pour his heart out. “Won…”

“And tonight?” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s only been my birthday for, what, three hours? And it’s already one of the best nights of my life. All because of you.”

You didn’t have words to respond, so you didn’t try. Instead, you pulled him down into a deep, slow kiss, pouring all your love into it.

When he pulled back, his expression had shifted slightly, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his lips brushing against yours. “Can I show you how amazing you are? Please?”

You barely had time to process his words before his hands were slipping under the hem of your dress, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was somehow even more intense than the last.

“That’s what you want for your birthday?” Your eyes flutter as you feel his warm fingertips navigating themselves home, each tap driving you more insane and impatient.

“That’s what I want for my birthday.”

You want to let him have what he wants so bad, because you know after everything you did for him to tonight, he was going to fuck you until you couldn’t hear, see, or do anything other than cum and cry. But it’s his birthday. And he was too grateful and sweet to ask for your mouth—but you know deep down, his length is aching for the feeling of your warm, salivated mouth, going up and down on his length. He loves to see you on your knees, talking him in like the good girl you are, swallowing everything he has, all for you.

Your right hand sneaks around his throat seductively, making him swallow intensely. He loves when you show him who he belongs to, you can hear it in his erratic breathing, and see it in his eyes that shut tight the second he felt your hand. You press your lips to his once more, sensually grazing your tongue against bus own. “That’s so sweet, baby.” You peck, before leaving a trace of your lips from his lips, to his jaw, to his ear. “And I’m going to let you have what you want. But first,”

His breath hitches as your hand tightens around his throat, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and submission. He loves this—loves when you take control, when you remind him who he belongs to. His cock twitches against your thigh, already hard and aching for your touch. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembles slightly under your grip.

"Please," he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. "I need you."

You smirk, pulling back just enough to see the hunger in his eyes. "You need me, huh?" you tease, your voice low and sultry. "What do you need, baby? Tell me."

He groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I need your mouth," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to feel your lips around me, your tongue—fuck, Y/N, please."

You release your grip on his throat, trailing your fingers down his chest until you reach the waistband of his pants. You can feel the heat of his cock through the fabric, and you take your time, teasing him as you slowly undo the button and pull down the zipper. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you finally free his length, his cock springing free, thick and throbbing.

"Look at you," you murmur, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. "So hard for me already. You really do need me, don't you?"

He nods, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself from thrusting into your hand. "Yes," he breathes. "I need you so bad."

You lean in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock before you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head. He moans, his hips jerking as you take him deeper, your lips sliding down his length until he hits the back of your throat. You relax, letting him push even further, your nose pressing against his pelvis as you take all of him.

"Fuck," he groans, his hands tangling in your hair as you begin to move, your mouth working him with a rhythm that has him seeing stars. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him driving you wild as you suck and lick, your tongue teasing the sensitive underside of his cock.

His moans grow louder, more desperate, and you know he's close. You pull back, letting his cock slip from your mouth with a wet pop, and look up at him with a wicked grin. "Not yet," you say, your voice dripping with mischief. "I want to make you beg for it."

He whimpers, his cock twitching as you stroke him slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip and spreading the precum that's gathered there. "Please," he begs, his voice breaking. "Please, Y/N, I need to cum. I need to feel you."

You smile, leaning in to take him into your mouth once more, your hand working the base of his cock as you suck him hard and fast. His hips buck, his fingers tightening in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth, his moans growing louder and more frantic. You can feel him pulsing, his cock swelling as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Y/N," he gasps, his voice strained. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

You hum around his cock, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he explodes in your mouth, his cum flooding your throat as you swallow every last drop. He moans your name, his body trembling as he rides out the waves of pleasure, his cock twitching as you continue to suck him through his orgasm.

The two of you sit there for a moment; you pressing soft kisses to his length while he takes deep breaths in attempt to get himself together. It’s amusing to see how riled up he already is, and he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

A seductive chuckle from Jungwon breaks your brief pause. “You love me, don’t you.” He slurs, still in disbelief of how amazing that just felt.

Your head leans to the left, your eyes filled with fake innocence as your cheek rests gently on his thigh. “You know I love you, baby.”

His head lifts, and his eyes—those eyes that always have a way of making you melt—are burning into you, speaking a thousand words without uttering a single one. The unspoken message is clear: You’re his, and he’s utterly obsessed with you. Every part of you, inside and out, and he always will be. You’re stuck with him

His gaze confirms what his tone already warned you—you weren’t in control anymore, and you wouldn’t be for the rest of the night. His eyes summon you to slowly rise from his thigh, crawling up his body, your eyes refusing to leave his.

9:00AM

The sun filters softly through the curtains as you stir awake, tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs. Jungwon is pressed against you, his arm draped lazily over your waist, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes steadily. His bare skin is warm against yours, and the memories of last night flicker through your mind like a reel of fireworks.

You smile to yourself, brushing a strand of hair from his face as you press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, baby,” you whisper. He doesn’t stir, just buries his face further into your neck, muttering something incoherent in his sleep.

Not wanting to disturb him, you carefully slide out of bed, grabbing his phone to FaceTime his parents. They answer on the second ring, their faces lighting up with joy.

“Y/N!” his mom greets warmly, her voice soft but full of excitement. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

You tilt the camera toward Jungwon, who’s still sprawled out in bed, looking utterly peaceful. “Still knocked out,” you chuckle. “But I wanted you to see him on his big day.”

His parents laugh, their love for him evident even through the screen. “Thank you for taking care of him,” his dad says sincerely.

“Of course,” you reply. “He’s my favorite person.”

After a short conversation, you promise to call them back later when Jungwon’s awake and hang up. You tiptoe out of the room, pulling on one of Jungwon’s oversized shirts and heading into the living room.

The sight waiting for you is nothing short of hilarious. Your apartment looks like the aftermath of a wild sleepover. Pillows and blankets are scattered everywhere, with guests passed out in various states of disarray. Sunoo is curled up on the couch with Taehyun, both of them snoring softly. Heeseung is somehow asleep in the kitchen, his head resting on the table, while Jake and Jay are sprawled out on the floor, their arms flung over each other like they’d just survived a battle.

You stifle a laugh, feeling a swell of pride for pulling off such a perfect night. Even though your apartment looks like a tornado hit it, it was all worth it.

You start picking up stray cups and plates, humming softly to yourself. As you’re gathering a pile of empty bottles, you feel a familiar warmth and weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning toward the hallway, you find Jungwon leaning against the wall, his hair messy, his bare chest illuminated by the soft morning light. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his signature bedroom look, and his lips curve into a sleepy, playful smile.

“You’re not seriously trying to clean up by yourself, are you?” he murmurs, his voice still rough from sleep.

You grin at him, setting down the bottles. “Someone has to, and everyone else is… well, indisposed.”

He pushes off the wall and walks toward you, his gaze softening with every step. When he reaches you, his hands slide around your waist, pulling you close. “Come back to bed,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “We’ll clean everything up later. Together. But right now, I just want you.”

You bite your lip, looking up at him. “You sure? The place is a mess.”

“I don’t care,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “Last night was perfect. You’re perfect. Let me spend my birthday morning with you, not cleaning up after everyone else.”

Your heart melts at his words, and you let him guide you back toward the bedroom. He pulls you under the covers, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close.

“Happy birthday, Jungwon,” you whisper again, your voice soft.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Best birthday ever, baby. And it’s only just started.”

And in that moment, with him holding you like you’re the only thing that matters, you know he means it.

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prettygirl-gabi · 3 days ago

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Title: Plus One

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: panic attacks

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem actress reader

Fandom: UConn's Women's basketball

Summary: it's was a joke til it wasn’t

It all started as a joke. I had no idea who to take as my plus one, so I did what any rational person would do—I tweeted.

"So... I need a date for my first movie premiere. @paigebueckers, what's good? 👀"

Then I posted the same thing on Instagram with a picture of me fake-proposing to an Oscar statue from set. It was meant to be lighthearted, a little funny. I had been a fan of Paige for years, and UConn fans were relentless. I figured a few of my new followers from the movie might hype it up for fun.

What I didn’t expect was for it to blow up overnight.

My notifications were chaos. UConn fans, my own fans, random sports pages—everyone was tagging Paige. Memes. Edits. The whole internet was basically playing matchmaker. It was both hilarious and terrifying.

Then, the next morning, I saw the notification.

paigebueckers: "👀 Sounds fun. You still need a date?"

I had to reread it like five times.

She DMed me. Paige Bueckers actually DMed me.

It felt surreal having Paige Bueckers, actual basketball star, knocking on my hotel room door. She looked casual but effortlessly cool in a tailored lavender suit, her blonde hair pinned up in a way that made my brain short-circuit.

"Ready, superstar?" she grinned, offering me her arm.

Somehow, I managed to function enough to get into the car with her. We chatted on the way, and I tried to act like I wasn’t internally freaking out. But the moment we pulled up and the cameras started flashing, my body locked up.

Paige got out first, then circled around to open the door for me. I wanted to move. I really did. But my chest tightened, my hands shook, and suddenly it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

"Hey," Paige’s voice was soft but firm as she crouched down, reaching for me leaning into the SUV. Her hands gently cradled my face, thumbs brushing over my cheeks. "Look at me, okay?"

I barely managed to lift my eyes, but hers were steady, grounding.

"Breathe in," she instructed. I did. "Now out."

I followed her lead, mirroring her slow, measured breaths.

"You’re good," she reassured me. "You belong here. And I got you, alright?"

I nodded, and she gave me one of those easy, Paige Bueckers smiles that could probably end wars.

"That’s my girl."

Somehow, I managed to get out of the car and onto the red carpet, Paige right beside me. The rest of the night was a blur of flashing cameras, interviews, and surreal moments, but Paige was the one thing that kept me grounded.

After the premiere, we ended up at an In-N-Out in full glam, eating burgers in the parking lot and laughing like we’d known each other forever.

That night, we exchanged numbers.

We kept in touch. At first, it was casual—texts, FaceTime calls, inside jokes. But then it became something. Paige was the person I called when I was stressed, when I had good news, when I just wanted to talk.

So when my second premiere came around, I didn’t post a joke about needing a date. I didn’t have to.

Paige texted me two days before:

Paige: "I’m free that night. Wanna go together?"

Me: "Like… as my date?"

Paige: "Well, duh. I thought we established that at In-N-Out."

I didn’t even know how to respond, but I smiled at my phone for an embarrassing amount of time.

Somehow, Paige and I had gone from a joke tweet to walking the Met Gala red carpet together—as wives.

She looked effortlessly stunning in a soft bule, black, purpleish,pink, grey suit, her marble-finished wedding band catching the light. I had a sterling silver set with an emerald-cut chocolate diamond that Paige had picked out herself.

As we walked down the carpet, photographers caught the moment we intertwined our fingers, flashing our matching rings. The buzz around us was deafening.

Then came the Glambot.

Paige pulled me close, her hand resting at the small of my back. The camera glided toward us in slow motion, and just as it reached the perfect angle—she kissed me.

Soft, warm, perfect.

I could already see the internet losing its mind again.

But at that moment, I didn’t care about the cameras, the fame, or the flashing lights.

All that mattered was Paige. And the fact that somehow, a joke tweet had led me to the love of my life.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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sachinteng · 3 days ago

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Syntax Error

After years of being asked about it, I thought I'd tell the story of my peculiar name, and explain what this little logogram I started using is about.

I don't look like my name should be Sachin. South Asian folks point it out to me all the time. If you don't know, Sachin is a Sanskrit name, and I am visibly not Desi, so people are often confused. People usually ask if I'm named after Sachin Tendulkar, the famous cricket player. And for a period of time my local Indian restaurant thought I was Indian and would give me free rice! Until they found out I wasn't and stopped. Very sad day.

So why am I named Sachin if I'm not Desi?

The name my parents gave me is 十晴. Specifically my dad. My father insisted on naming me. Spent months obsessing over it. But he never gave me an English name. And on the day I was born my dad was…asleep, didn't answer the phone which rang all day, and missed the entire birth. To this day my mother tells this story whenever I miss a phone call. So, when I was born they had no idea what to put on my birth certificate.

The pinyin translation for 十晴 is Shí Qíng. But my mom didn't know pinyin. The lawyer who drew up the paperwork for my birth certificate was Indian, and when he heard 十晴, he said, 'that sounds like Sachin. I'll just put that!' And my mother, tired and alone in the hospital, in a foreign land called Flushing, Queens, said okay. And who can blame her.

And that's how I got my name. In the most arbitrary, accidental way possible. My dad, after months and months of hyper-focusing on a name, fumbled it all right at the end. I wish I could say my name was meaningful in Hànyǔ at least but, my name is very strange to Hànyǔ speakers as well.

The character 十 means 'ten' as in the number 10. And 晴 means 'clear sunny skies.' It's the kind of word a weather reporter will commonly use in the forecast. Honestly, Ten Sunny Skies sounds like a Wǔxiá character. Like Eight Flying Lotuses or Five Poison Fists, or something. Not gunna lie, I prefer this explanation.

So my dad loves to tell this joke…about how his name is too hard to write. It has so many strokes in it that when he was in school taking tests it took him so long to write his name on tests that when he was finished writing it the other students already finished taking the whole test. So, when he has a child he's going to make sure to give them the easiest name with the fewest strokes possible.

And that's where it comes from. Some dinner party joke he liked to tell friends. Thanks dad.

My name has a different meaning to me now as an adult. Over the years many people have heard my name and said, 'Do you know the story of Hòu Yì 后羿?'

An old folktale says there used to be 10 Suns. They would cycle one at a time, because there can never be more than one sun in the sky at the same time. But, one day the suns got lonely, they wanted to see each other and broke the rules. All 10 suns burned at the same time. To stop the suns from burning the entire world down Hòu Yì, the legendary archer, shot the suns out of the sky and left just one, the sun we have today.

It's a fable about doing too much, not thinking about the consequences, and literally burning out. Something I relate to more than I'd like. I burned out hard a few years ago and recovering was a long, painful journey that I never want to repeat.

In the end, the last Sun loses all their siblings and has to carry the burden alone. But, if they'd just had patience and paced themselves, there would still be 10 suns across 'Ten Sunny Skies 十晴.'

#hou yi #animation #short story

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fortunapre · 1 day ago

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𝐖𝐡at Happens 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐬… | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

SUMMARY★ the internet gets suspicious after Oscar Piastri’s childhood best friend shows up to the USA GP after swearing off races a year ago…

(multiple face claims)

instagram

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y/nusername home sweet home *read in southern mama accent*

View comments⇩

oscarpiastri: hey! no way i’m going to be there too what a coincidence!

➜ y/nusername: its not a coincidence im stalking you

➜ oscarpiastri: 😀 what.

y/nbff: tell me you’re joking

➜ y/nusername: lemme tell you something... LEMME TELL YOU SUMTHING!

user1234: why does @y/nbff sound mad? Did she not tell her bsf or something?

➜ user999: don’t quote me on this but i’m pretty sure it has to do with the drama about y/n and her ex.

➜ user 1234: wait what?!? Im new what is that???

➜ f1updatesfans: well like i think 2 years ago y/n was seen around with this guy while she was in Austin (her home town) for the USA race.

➜ f1updatesfans: Then suddenly he like disappeared and y/n didn’t go to another race since. but now apparently she’s going to this one??? it’s all very speculative but yeah.

➜ user1234: ok but what does y/n have to do with formula one? Wait was she dating a driver?

➜ f1updatesfans: No! I dont think so... And shes Oscar’s friend I think. Best friend.

imessages- y/n's POV

Once y/n got off of the plane and through the gate, she stood waiting for Oscar. Considering he was already in town for the race, he had no problem coming to get her. They were best friends after all.

y/n had a hand on her suitcase and leaned against a pillar. She looked worn out and utterly tired. Her eye bags could practically be called carry-on luggage. She rested her head on the wall and scrolled through her contacts before choosing Oscar's name.

Her phone only rang once before Oscar's voice answered from the other side.

"Hey, y/n." He said in his signature sweet tone that always made y/n smile. The corner of her mouth lifted at his voice while she closed her eyes. Maybe tired was an understatement.

She was exhausted. Usually she just sleeps on planes, but for the whole 6-hour trip she never dozed off. The closest she got was simply closing her eyes.

She couldn't sleep. Not when she was so worried about what would happen once she landed.

"Yeah, hey Oscar." she murmured, and let out a long yawn. "My gate is A6." She held her phone between her shoulder and cheek while she tried to fish out her wallet from her purse.

"You good? You sound tired. Or sad. I can't really tell over the phone." Oscar spoke through the speaker pressed up against her ear.

"Yes, I'm fine..." Once she found her wallet, she pulled out cash to buy something to drink at the mini market across from her gate.

"Oh, I see you! Stop walking I'm coming to your right now." Oscar said quickly. Y/n looked around her, trying to find him. Eventually, she spotted his familiar smile.

They both hung up the phone as Oscar got closer. He was smiling at her, almost smirking really. When he stood next to her, he took a moment to look at her state, no doubt remembering it to make fun of later.

Y/n smiled back and then continued walking to the minimarket, with Oscar alongside her.

Once she got her water, they both started walking towards the exit.

"Here, I can take this." Oscar stopped y/n and put his hand on top of her hand which was holding her suitcase. His touch felt familiar and warm. His hands always felt rougher than they looked, but y/n felt comfort in knowing it was Oscar. At first, she didn't speak.

She was too busy staring at their hands because something different was happening.

She felt different. Suddenly, she wanted his hand to never leave. She wanted his hand to grab hers and lace their fingers. She wanted his hand to touch her more.

She shook her head and looked away from their hands. She must be really tired, and sleep deprived.

Instead of agreeing verbally, y/n just let go, suddenly conscious of Oscar's burning touch, and nodded, letting him take her suitcase.

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oscarpiastri shut up

landonorris *my future boyfriend

➜ ynusername LANDO WHAT! is this a hard launch for you two???? wdym your bf

➜ landonorris WAIT HAHA NO I MEANT MY AS IT YOURS

➜ landonorris I WAS CORRECTING YOU AS YOU

➜ landonorris WAIT DONT

➜ landonorris i’m deleting this.

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imessages- oscar's POV

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imessage- oscar's POV

"Who are you texting?" Y/n asked casually, wanting to start conversation. She sat comfortable in a sofa across from him. Originally, they were both laying down on the sofa's facing each other, a table in the middle.

But once Oscar got the first message, he sat up quickly.

At one point y/n caught him looking at her, with the most confused face she's seen on him, but he just went back to typing.

"What?" His head shot up from his phone, and his eyes got wide.

"I asked who you were texting." She replied. Y/n sat up slowly, matching him and then leaned in, with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together.

"Oh. um. no one. Just Lando"

"Oh ok." This conversation was just making her more bored, and she wanted to talk to Oscar. There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. "What about?"

"Hmm?" Oscar seemed extremely distracted.

"What about?"

Instead of answering, he ran a hand through his hair and looked down. Y/n was going to ask what was wrong but he suddenly stood up and walked around the sofa.

He was still silent, and he changed positions to now stand behind the sofa and leaned on back, arm folded, facing away from her.

"Osc-" Y/n was going to ask why he was so distracted, but he cut her off.

He turned around, now looking her in the eye. "y/n can I ask you something?"

Now y/n was worried, because what could be on his mind that he needed to ask her about.

"Of course, Osc"

Oscar looked at her as she waited for his question. Like really looked at her. She was wearing Mclaren merch with his number on the back of course. She looked gorgeous. The realization made Oscar run a hand through his hair again, no doubt messing it up this time.

"It's kind of personal, y/n. I understand why you haven't said anything about it before. It's your personal life and I want you to know that i understand."

"Oscar what-"

"Is your ex in Austin?"

Y/n was surprised to say the least. She knew that questions about her past relationship would come up, but Oscar asking was surprising. She told him last year about how her ex broke up with her.

She was devastated. He had broken up with her over the phone, on the way back from last year's Austin Grand Prix. His reasons were stupid, and his apologies sounded incredibly forced.

She immediately called Oscar and told him everything. Well, everything except from his name. Oscar can be protective when it comes to y/n, so she kept her ex's name secret. It sounds stupid now that she thinks about it because even if Oscar did get mad, he would never do anything Y/n didn't like.

"Yeah. He's here, in Austin, but I haven't talked to him at all. You know what he did, and I want nothing to do with him." Y/n didn't know why she was trying to explain herself so much. She felt like she needed to make it known that there was nothing between her and her ex anymore. What this had to do with Oscar? she didn't know.

He nodded and walked towards her. They both sat next to each other on the small sofa while Oscar overthought everything.

"You want nothing to do with him? like at all? because Lando was making me think that you were possibly here to get back together with him..." He needed to know for sure.

"What? Oscar not of course. Why would Lando think that?"

"I don't know." he was going to run a hand through his hand for the third time, but y/n grabbed his wrist instead. She held his hand softly and intertwined their fingers.

Oscar felt relieved. Y/n was probably wondering why Oscar had so many sudden questions about her love life, but neither of them brought up the suddenness of the conversation. They instead sat close together; hands intertwined, hoping that the other couldn't tell how fast their heart is beating at the they're simple touch.

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oscarpiastri new merch that even I'd wear (it's a white shirt, get it?)

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ynusername cool now I have another shirt i can steal

➜ oscarpiastri get your own! https://mclaren.com

➜ oscarpiastri hope this helps!

➜ ynusername you're going to give it to me anyways I know it

➜ oscarpiastri probably...

landonorris @.ynusername where have you beeeeeen I haven't seen you all weekend

➜ ynusername clearing my calendar for you right now!

➜ landonorris tell oscar to stop keeping you to himself!!!

➜ oscarpiastri no go away

➜ landonorris *cough* jealous *cough*

➜ oscarpiastri 😐 that’s enough

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2 days later, and neither Y/n nor Oscar had made any progress on acknowledging their feelings. Even the internet and gossip columns knew more about it them each other.

a/n:

just a small smau i wanted to try. i’ve never done one of these types of stories, so sorry if its bad or confusing!

not sure if i’ll do a part 2…do we like?

#f1 #formula 1 #fanfiction #writing #f1 x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #oscarpiastri #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #osc #oscar piastri

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