#i kind of feel like Mark Chao might do it well but he's not a good fit for the role for other reasons

[iwouldliketoeatrandy]

Inspired by this post, I wanted to fancast Iron Widow! I really liked these picks, especially Nini who would do a great job as Wu Zetian, but didn't want to just copy and paste.

Li Meng as Wu Zetian

She was a wonderfully cruel and charismatic villain in The Double and I would love to see her rage and passion in Wu Zetian's character.

Yu Shi as Li Shimin

Ok listen I think he's handsome, but also he could do it.

Tan Jian Ci as Gao Yizhi

For our wealthy scholar. His 2023 and 2024 characters were polar opposites characterization wise, and I'd love to see him continue to challenge himself with a unique character like Yizhi.

[moonriizing]

urs | p.sh (18+)

You weren't supposed to want more, but you did. What started as a casual fling became more complicated when you found yourself caught between your desire and the reality that Park Sunghoon's heart belonged to someone else.

Genre: college au, situationship, smut Pairing: Park Sunghoon x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), NOT PROOFREAD. I'll come back to do that when I can lol. Notes: 10k words. Listening to urs by NIKI. My first Sunghoon fic and it's written on a whim! lol. I wrote this instead of working on my overdue wip lol. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

You first met Park Sunghoon at a frat party you had no real interest in attending. It was the first night of the semester, the music was good, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was exactly what you needed. It was the kind of night that made you feel young and invincible, where bad decisions were just part of the fun. And tonight, you were on a mission: hook up with a hot guy.

It was a promiscuous mission, you knew that. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t that kind of girl because you were! But you weren’t the reckless, messy type. No, you were the smart kind of promiscuous. The kind who could have fun without losing control. You were practical about it—always sober enough to make sound decisions, always keeping your boundaries clear. Simply put, you were the best type of promiscuous.

As a college girl with ambitions, you couldn’t afford to get tangled in romance and all that commitment nonsense. Too much work. But you had needs, and fulfilling them meant nights like this—scanning the crowd for a guy who could tickle your fancy, no strings attached.

That was how you spotted him.

Tall, handsome, but oddly out of place. While the rest of the party thrived on the chaos, he stood by himself in a corner. He had a cup in his hand, but it wasn’t like he was enjoying it. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else—his posture slouched just enough to suggest he wasn’t a part of this. He had that bored, almost irritable look on his face, the kind that made you wonder if he was only here because someone dragged him along.

You were not the type to hesitate, so you didn’t. You’d done this enough times to know exactly what you were after, and right now? You were after him.

“Is this your first frat party, or are you just too cool for it?” you asked, leaning in just enough to get his attention.

He glanced at you, his eyes flicking over your face for a second before landing on your lips, then back up to your eyes. Up close, he was even more good-looking—long lashes, sharp features, lips that curled just slightly at the corners like he was already amused by you, and a couple of beauty marks on his face that made him even more striking.

He was definitely your type.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you added, taking a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact.

“That obvious?” he asked, his voice low, almost melodic.

You smirked, liking the way his voice was as perfect as his looks. “You look miserable,” you pointed out, still grinning.

He chuckled lightly, amused but not exactly thrilled. “What about you? Having fun?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t. But right now, I think I might be…” You let your gaze wander, deliberately slow, from his face to the exposed skin of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

Sunghoon smirked, his gaze trailing over you in a way that was appreciative without being too obvious. “Well, that makes two of us,” he replied suggestively.

He flirted right back!

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. You took it and gave him your name.

Your eyes locked with his—now more curious, sizing him up. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you staring each other down, trying to gauge each other’s thoughts with your hands still joined. Then you saw a flicker in his eyes that made you come to an agreement with your own intuition.

You tilted your head, eyes still locked with his. “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

His eyes widened slightly, his brows lifting in surprise—visibly caught off guard by your suggestion. His grip on your hand loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You kept your gaze steady, showing no hesitation and letting him know you were serious. A few seconds of silence passed where you almost thought he’d say no, but then he exhaled a soft laugh.

“Are you always this forward?” he asked, amused now.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Only when I see someone I like.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you like me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

With that, his smirk widened, and before you could second-guess yourself, he set his cup down. “My place or yours?”

And just like that, you were out of the party and heading to whatever the hell came next. No strings, no pressure. Just the way you liked it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when the tsunami that would come crashing in began to take shape.

You didn’t mean for it to happen again. It was supposed to be a one-time thing—fun, uncomplicated. But he was phenomenal, so it happened a second time. And a third. And eventually, you just lost count.

Maybe it was because, other than the fact that he was really good at it, he was also easy to be around. He wasn’t like the others—the ones who got clingy after a night or acted like they were doing you a favor by sleeping with you. Sunghoon was different. He never overstayed his welcome, never asked for more than you were willing to give, but he wasn’t distant either. If anything, he was… nice.

Not in a fake, trying-too-hard way. Just nice. Made you feel comfortable, always made sure you finished before he did, and never left without saying something witty that made you roll your eyes. He had this way of being detached but not cold, like he had mastered the art of keeping things casual without being an asshole.

“You know,” you mused, sprawled across his bed, still catching your breath, “my first impression of you was that you were boring and miserable. Turns out you know how to make a girl have fun.”

Standing by his closet, Sunghoon threw you an amused glance as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “Yeah? I aim to please.”

You smirked. “That sounds like something a guy who thinks he’s good in bed would say.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you, looking almost too put-together for someone who had just spent an hour between your legs. “And? Am I not?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You’re alright.”

He scoffed, tossing a pillow at you, which you barely dodged. “You’re a bad liar.”

You grinned, stretching lazily. “Well, I can’t have you getting a big head, can I?”

Sunghoon shook his head, his lips curling into that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Too late for that.”

It was easy. Too easy. Maybe that’s why you let it keep happening.

Behind closed doors, there was no restraint. It didn’t matter if it was your place or his—once the door was closed, your hands were on his neck, his lips found your skin, and clothes barely made it past the foyer before being discarded.

Sunghoon was incredible in bed. He was controlled, precise, yet somehow still desperate when he kissed you, when he pressed you against the mattress, when he groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. And you? You had mastered the art of making him unravel.

You knew exactly what made him weak, how to turn his composure into incoherence, how to make him grip your waist a little harder or breathe your name in a way that made your stomach flip. It was exhilarating, effortless—two people who just fit perfectly when it came to this.

But outside? You were mere acquaintances.

A nod in the hallway. A fleeting smile across the quad. If you happened to pass each other at a party, he’d tip his cup in your direction, and you’d lift a brow in acknowledgment. No one knew. No one suspected a thing. And you liked it better that way. You were both civil and could control your urges.

Except for when you couldn’t.

Like now.

You were leaving class when Sunghoon caught your wrist, pulling you into an empty lecture hall.

“What—”

He kissed you before you could finish, his hands already gripping your hips, pressing you against the nearest desk. The kiss was hot, urgent, like he had been holding back all day.

“Wow, I think you missed me a little,” you teased when he finally pulled away, breathless.

Sunghoon scoffed, but his fingers traced the sleeve of your dress like he wasn’t done with you yet. “You should wear this more often.”

You smirked. “What? Hoon, you did not pull me in here just because I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s a really nice dress,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck. His hand slipped under your dress, squeezing your thighs firmly. When the familiar warmth started creeping up your chest, you held his hand to stop him.

“This is not a good idea,” you told him, smiling at the puppy-like look on his face.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he regretted his own impulse. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then you heard the sound of voices just outside the door.

In an instant, Sunghoon stepped back, running a hand through his hair like nothing had happened. You casually adjusted your dress. When the door creaked open, and a couple of students poked their heads in, you and Sunghoon were already on opposite sides of the room.

“Is this Professor Smith’s class?” one of them asked just as you spotted the same name written on the board in front.

“It is,” you said smoothly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you strode past Sunghoon without so much as a glance.

Outside, in the open air, you felt his presence behind you, his steps easy and unhurried. As you reached the main path to the quad, he finally passed you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly.

“See you around,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You smirked, not looking back. “See you around.”

But even with all of that, you could tell he was drawing a line between you. He didn’t have to say it. You could see it in the way he never texted first, the way he kissed you like he meant it but pulled away too quickly after. The way he made you laugh but never let the moment linger too long.

And maybe you should have done the same.

You didn’t mean to fall for him. You really didn’t. But it was hard not to when, in between the sneaking around and the mind-blowing sex, Sunghoon was just... Sunghoon. Nice and thoughtful in a way that made it almost impossible to keep things casual.

Like when the lightbulb in your room went out, and he arrived at your place with a new one, climbed on a chair, and replaced it himself.

“I was gonna do that, you know,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall, watching him screw the new bulb into place. “I’m just a little busy these days.”

He climbed down, dusting his hands off. “Yeah, but can you even reach that high?”

You rolled your eyes, but when he patted your head like you were some kid, you didn’t swat his hand away. Instead, you found yourself watching him as he moved around your space so easily.

Or the way he always refilled your bedside tumbler before he left your place. You didn’t even notice it at first, but one morning, you woke up, throat dry, and reached for it instinctively—only to realize it was full. Ice-cold. Like he had just topped it off before slipping out.

And then there was the night you were cramming for an exam, drowning in highlighter ink and frustration, when your door swung open, and Sunghoon walked in like he owned the place.

“I’m about to become your favorite person in the world,” he announced, dropping a thick stack of papers on your desk.

You blinked up at him. “What is this?”

“My old notes,” he said, ruffling your hair before plopping onto your bed like he had all the time in the world. “They’re neat. Better than whatever middle school doodles you have going on.”

You flipped through them, and he wasn’t lying—his notes were immaculate. Organized, highlighted, complete with diagrams. You stared at them, then at him, sprawled out on your bed like he had no idea what he’d just done.

“You didn’t strike me as a guy who took his studies seriously,” you teased, although you didn’t really think that way about him.

Sunghoon smirked, turning his head to look at you. “Why? Did you think the only thing I knew how to do was make your legs shake?”

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t stop the warmth creeping up your chest. “Be real, Hoon. You’re not that good.”

“Liar liar, pants on fire,” he lilted, his eyes shifting back to his phone.

You fell for him because hookups weren’t supposed to be this thoughtful. Hookups weren’t supposed to linger after sex to fix your lightbulb or make sure you stayed hydrated. They weren’t supposed to look after you in ways so small, so casual, that you almost missed them.

You caught yourself wondering. Did he care about you more than just a hookup? Or worse—did you want him to?

You were at a café with your friends when his name came up. 

It started casually enough—half-listening to the conversation while stirring the melting ice in your drink, until one of them, Lily, suddenly said, “Oh, by the way, I saw Sunghoon at your apartment complex the other day. Didn’t know you guys were neighbors.”

Your hand stilled, heartbeat picking up pace at the sudden mention of his name. You blinked once, twice, before mustering up an easy shrug. “Huh. Neither did I.”

Lily laughed, oblivious. “Right? He was coming out of your building. I was gonna say hi, but he looked like he was in a hurry.”

Across the table, Tammy tilted her head. “Maybe he was visiting someone? From what I know, he lives with Jake in a different neighborhood.”

“Maybe,” Lily mused, sipping her drink. Then, as if the thought just occurred to her, she added, “Oh! You and Jenna are neighbors, right?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know any Jenna.”

“Jenna! The girl who won the poll for prettiest student last year!” she explained, her expression turning conspiratorial. “She’s Sunghoon’s ex.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

Lily went on, oblivious. “Guess he’s still hoping she’ll take him back.”

The words landed like a slap. You almost asked her to repeat herself, but the way Tammy nodded in understanding told you that you heard right.

“Yeah,” Tammy said. “They were together for two years. I heard he was really sad when they broke up.”

Lily clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did get back together. They were that couple, you know?”

That couple. The ones who belonged together. The ones who had history, real history—not just stolen moments behind closed doors.

You swallowed, forcing a small smirk. “Didn’t know you guys were keeping up with Sunghoon’s love life like this.”

Lily nodded. “Jenna and I used to hang out when I was still in the council.”

Then she started rambling about their history, how Jenna broke Sunghoon’s heart, how he never really moved on. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but your mind was stuck on every moment you spent with him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, how he never let you walk home alone, the way he looked at you sometimes—like maybe you were something more special to him.

But you weren’t. You weren’t the one he wanted. You never were. And just like that, the guessing game was over.

He didn’t want you like you wanted him. You were genuinely just a fling.

Still, you smiled, made some joke that had your friends laughing, and sipped your drink like nothing was wrong. Like your stomach hadn’t just dropped to the floor.

Later, when you saw Sunghoon again—when he let himself into your apartment with that lazy smirk, hands already reaching for you—you didn’t hesitate. You let him touch you, let him kiss you like nothing had changed.

Because for him, nothing had.

And if he didn’t know the difference or couldn’t see the shift, then you sure as hell weren’t going to show him.

Does it make sense to want your ex back and exclusively sleep with someone else? NO.

It was stupid. Sunghoon was stupid. That was what you told yourself every time the thought crossed your mind—every time you caught yourself comparing.

You never voiced it out loud, though. Not to your friends, because Sunghoon was popular, and they’d pry if they knew you were sleeping with him. Not to him, for obvious reasons. And mainly because you had pride. You were the one who said you wouldn’t get attached—the one who laughed at girls who caught feelings for a fling.

But knowing better didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.

His ex was his senior, a fine arts major. Pretty. Smart. Talented. One of those girls who just had it. The kind people didn’t get over easily. You told yourself it didn’t matter. If he wanted her back, that was his problem, not yours. It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon were anything.

And so the days with him continued to be easy and light.

You spent more time together, and the more you did, the more you noticed his quirks—his own brand of annoying charm. Like how he always picked up your keys instead of his whenever he left your apartment, or how he liked to roll his sleeves and ruffle his hair absentmindedly.

One evening, lying side by side on your bed, you scrolled through your texts, absentmindedly opening your chat with him. A dozen images filled the screen, almost all of them mirror selfies. Some in elevators, some in his room, one even in a convenience store.

“You like yourself a little too much, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your phone so he could see.

Sunghoon barely glanced at it. “What?”

“These,” you said, scrolling through. “Almost every picture you send me is just you.”

He smirked, resting his head on his arm. “What, you don’t like them?”

You huffed. “You’re hot and you know it, is that it?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. The glint in his eyes was naughty and suggestive. His next words, even more so: “Would you rather I send you something else?”

He was looking at you like he knew exactly what he was doing, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“Maybe,” you said, feigning deep thought. “Like a cat picture. Or, I don’t know, an interesting rock.”

Sunghoon snorted. “An interesting rock?”

“I like rocks.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re a narcissist.”

He only grinned, as if he didn’t mind the label. You shook your head, rolling onto your stomach, but your lips twitched when your phone vibrated a second later.

A picture. Of a rock.

You bit back a smile, and Sunghoon, watching you, caught it anyway.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing,” you said, tossing your phone aside.

You had never once felt insecure about what you had with Sunghoon, but after what you heard from your friends, you started to notice the little things. It almost seemed like outside the four walls of your apartments, you were nothing to each other.

You used to think he was just a lazy texter. His replies were always short, sometimes delayed, sometimes just emojis. But knowing what you knew now, you wondered if he just wasn’t interested enough.

The thought crept under your skin, making you overthink the things you once brushed off.

Before, when you texted him to come over and he said he couldn’t, you didn’t think much of it. But now? Now, you wondered if he was with her when he wasn’t with you. If he looked at his phone, saw your message, and made a choice.

Yet, you kept crawling back for more.

You were an intelligent woman. You knew this was foolish. You knew how it made you look. But it was fine, because no one else knew how you felt—not your friends, not even Sunghoon himself. It was fine because you were foolish only in your own eyes. There was no need for anyone else to know.

Despite the foolishness of it all, you were happy. You were content enough to be able to spend time with him, to be touched and worshipped by him, to know you had the power to tease out a part of him that not everyone had the privilege to see.

“Sunghoon,” you sighed, fingers pressed against your temple as you looked out of the car window. “We’ve been circling this block for ten minutes.”

You had tagged along with Sunghoon on a quick trip to pick up some pieces for his department’s upcoming art exhibit. It was unplanned. You were outside the campus after class when he spotted you and asked if you wanted to join him. Since you didn’t have anything planned for the day (and because you could never say no to a chance to hang out with him), you got into his car and let him drive without even asking where you were going.

But Sunghoon, as it turned out, had a terrible sense of direction.

“I swear it was supposed to be around here,” he muttered, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping aimlessly at his phone.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

He shot you a glance, sheepish. “Well, I meant it twenty minutes ago.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs. The map app on his dashboard kept recalculating, rerouting him to roads that either didn’t exist or led straight to nowhere. And when he finally admitted defeat, pulling over to rethink his next move, you both stepped out and realized something.

The ocean was right there.

Waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm but not overbearing—the kind of day that practically begged to be wasted at the beach.

“…Screw the errand?” you offered.

Sunghoon stared at the water for a moment before shrugging. “Screw the errand.”

And just like that, the detour became the destination.

The day unfolded spontaneously. You bought overpriced street food from a vendor by the shore, eating as you walked, laughing when Sunghoon scrunched his nose at the spicy kick of the sauce. He had an annoyingly specific taste in food and the smell, but he still let you shove a piece of yours into his mouth.

You found a little souvenir stand and tried on ridiculous sunglasses, taking pictures of each other in frames shaped like hearts and palm trees. Sunghoon snapped candid shots of you when you weren’t looking, and though you pretended to be annoyed, you never asked him to stop.

At some point, the tide crept in, and you played a round of rock, paper, scissors and dared the loser to get into the water. You weren’t even surprised when you lost. You sucked at this game.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you grumbled, kicking your sandals off. “By myself, no less.”

“Hey, it’s a game. We both agreed to this,” he retorted, stepping back. “And I can’t go in there. I’m wearing jeans.”

“And I’m wearing a skirt,” you countered, already wading in, your hem darkening as the waves reached you.

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, probably wondering if you were actually sulking over a punishment you’d happily agreed to before you lost the game. Of course, you weren’t, but it was fun to tease him and see what he’d do.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said after the scowl never left your face. In a moment of impulsive surrender, he walked straight in after you, the water soaking up his pants. You’re actually unbelievable,” he added, shaking his head as the chill hit him.

You grinned triumphantly, making him brush his hair back in playful exasperation. Then, shaking his head in defeat, he said, “I knew it. It was a farce. You knew I was gonna give in!”

“You fell for it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t blame me,” you added, flicking water at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you, unimpressed, before flicking some back with just the tips of his fingers.

“Oh, come on,” you taunted. “Is that the best you can do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly—just enough of a warning before he sent a full splash your way, drenching your arms. You gasped, stumbling back with a laugh.

“Oh? So that’s how it’s gonna be?” you shot back, scooping up water with both hands and throwing it right at his chest.

He retaliated, sending another wave toward you, and suddenly it was war. One splash turned into another, then another, until you were both breathless, clothes sticking to your skin, hair a mess.

Sunghoon pushed his dripping bangs back with a huff. “This is your fault,” he said, smiling his usual warm and blinding smile—the smile that made his eyes crinkle, the smile that revealed dimples carving deep into his cheeks, the smile that could make anyone think Sunghoon had never forced a grin in his life.

He was beautiful, and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper, with no way out. You were falling so deep that it made your heart ache a little—the way you liked him, the way you wanted him to be yours, the way you wished today could last forever.

As the sky started to turn amber, you collapsed onto the sand, watching the sun lower itself into the horizon.

The waves rolled in, steady and endless, curling at the shore. The air smelled of salt, and the golden glow of the sunset painted the world majestically. You sat side by side, talking and laughing about random things, content to share the warmth of a single jacket.

Then, somewhere between the soothing sound of the waves and the silly jokes, the conversation drifted deeper.

You talked about things you never had before—about college, about dreams and ambitions, about the way people always say you’ll just know when something is right.

“How do you know for sure that that’s what you wanted to pursue?” he asked while you were tracing idle patterns in the sand. “What if you think you know, but when you get to the end of it, you realize it was the wrong choice?”

You looked out into the ocean, tilting your head slightly, considering. “I didn’t really know it was the right choice. I don’t think anyone ever really knows,” you admitted. “Not in the moment, at least. Maybe you just choose something, and later, that choice becomes the right one.”

You turned to look at him only to find out he already had his eyes on you. The admiration in his gaze was subtle, but it was there. Seeing that made your heart trip over itself, it made you forget, for just a second, that this wasn’t real.

And when he leaned in, when his eyes flickered to your lips and your breath caught, you stopped thinking. You knew what was coming. You knew he was about to kiss you, but somehow, for some reason, this time felt different. Like this kiss was gonna determine a major point in your relationship.

But before anything could happen, Sunghoon’s phone rang, jolting you both out of the trance. You both looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat like you’d caught yourself doing something you shouldn’t. Which was ridiculous because you’d done nothing but kiss him in the past few months.

Sunghoon cleared his throat as he picked up his phone on the sand then answered the call with a quiet, “Yeah?”

It was the committee for the exhibit and you watched him talk on the phone for the next few minutes, explaining what had happened and why he couldn’t finish the errand. By the time he hung up, the sky had darkened completely, and the air had turned crisp.

“It’s late,” he said, brushing sand off his hands. “You okay with crashing at my place?”

You blinked. “Your place?”

“Our old family house. It’s not far from here.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. “Sure.”

The car ride was quiet, thick with the tension that had been ignited by the near-kiss at the beach. Neither of you spoke, but your gazes met every now and then—quick glances, fleeting and heated, before darting away like you hadn’t been caught.

Sunghoon was the first to break. His hand drifted from the wheel, finding your thigh in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He squeezed, testing, and when you didn’t stop him, he grew bolder, pushing the hem of your dress up just enough to feel the warmth of your skin. His fingers traced your skin with slow, deliberate strokes, inching higher into your inner thighs and lightly brushing your sex.

The heat of his touch burned through you. While you sat there feeling hotter as your heartbeat hammered wildly in your chest, he remained composed and quiet, his face unreadable save for the occasional twitch of his jaw. He kept his eyes on the road, but the way the car gradually picked up speed as he stepped harder on the gas told you everything you needed to know.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until the car rolled to a stop in their driveway. He exhaled sharply, as if regaining control of himself before stepping out and opening the door for you like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

The lock to their house’s main entrance clicked, the door creaked open, and the second you stepped inside, all restraints snapped.

You barely had a moment to take in the house before his hands were on you, pulling you in, mouths crashing in a kiss that was desperate, needy, and greedy. He backed you into the foyer, hands mapping the curve of your waist, and the shape of your hips.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling, tugging, holding on for dear life as the heat of his touch woke something primal in you. He barely broke the kiss as he guided you further inside, not caring where you ended up as long as you got there together. You went past the foyer and the living room, but all you felt was the press of his body, the way he kissed you with the kind of hunger that made your head spin.

He pushed a door open, urging you inside but you hesitated, pulse hammering.

“Sunghoon,” you breathed between kisses, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Your parents—”

“They’re not home.” His voice was low, steady, but his eyes burned through yours.

You barely had a second to process before he kissed you again, silencing every last doubt as he pushed you inside the door he had just opened. When he clicked the lights on, the glow of a bathroom light flickered on, reflecting off the tiles and the mirror above the sink.

“Figured you’d hate the taste of the sea on my skin,” he murmured, grinning as his fingers grazed your hip. You were suddenly reminded of the saltwater clinging to your skin, and the sand on your legs, remnants of the day you’d spent together.

You swallowed, nodding. But the moment he lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, you knew washing up wasn’t gonna be the only thing happening in here. 

You shamelessly ogled him—his bare skin, damp from sweat and seawater, and his lean build with well-defined muscles that you’d seen several times before but still found alluring. He caught you staring and smirked, stepping closer, close enough that his fingers found the buttons of your top.

“Did you know I’m good with buttons?” he asked softly, making you giggle.

“Yeah. I’ve seen your skills,” you said, watching him.

His fingers were deft, undoing your buttons slowly, teasingly. When he was done, he gently tugged it off, letting it fall on the floor. His hands didn’t leave you, though. They skimmed down your arms, and your waist, examining every curve like he had it memorized and wanted to see if anything was different.

The next thing you knew, warm water was cascading over your bodies, steam enveloping you in the small space. The spray soaked your hair, trailing down your spine, but you barely noticed because Sunghoon was there—his hands smoothing over your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder, your jaw, his canines grazing your skin ever so slightly.

“We’re supposed to be washing up,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

“We are,” he murmured, his fingers sliding down your stomach, inching lower. “Just making sure we’re doing it thoroughly.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but it faded into a sigh when he pressed you back against the cool tiles, his mouth finding yours again. He didn’t stay for long, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, all the way to your chest where his kisses turned a little more intense. He sucked and squeezed, sending a pleasant ripple through your body that made you arch forward for more. The water drowned out the sound of your quiet moans, the warmth of his mouth making every touch feel more heady, more intoxicating.

When did he take off his pants? You didn’t even notice until he pressed his body against yours and you felt his manhood pulsating against your torso, hot and raging. He kissed your lips again, shoving his tongue inside as his breathing turned rougher.

“Turn around,” he rasped in your ear, and you obliged, finding yourself face-to-face with your own reflection.

You pressed your hands against the glass, your entire body tingling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck as you felt his tip prodding your pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, biting your ear. “Do you have any idea how you drive me crazy all the damn time?”

You were about to respond when he pushed himself inside you, making you let out a throaty gasp instead. Sunghoon stayed still, shushing you gently and kissing your shoulder.

“It’s alright. We’ve done this before,” he chimed and you could see him smirking in your reflection. 

“You’re used to this, right?” he asked, moving delicately so you could properly adjust to his length and girth. “Right, baby?” he asked again, and the lilt in his voice made you close your eyes and nod.

“That’s right. You said you love it, didn’t you?” 

You could only let out a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “Yes, Hoon. I love it,” you whispered back.

“Good. I know you do,” he chimed, gently bending you forward. “I know you’ll love this too,” he added before his hands settled on your waist and he started thrusting into you.

His pace was urgent, with enough force to make your knees weak each time he slammed into you. You didn’t even bother to stifle your moans anymore, letting them out completely, not caring if there were neighbors nearby who might hear you. You were lightheaded with lust, spiraling into the titillating euphoria that Sunghoon never once failed to deliver. Your entire being came alive and you were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice your knees buckling underneath your weight.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he helped keep you up, pulling out to give you a quick break and to turn you face-to-face with him again. His grin was unmistakable, pleased to see your fucked-out expression. “So so beautiful,” he said, sweeping your hair out of your face.

He pressed you against the cool tiles, his lips crashing onto yours, urgency overtaking everything else. You gasped when his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you against him. The water poured over his shoulders, down your back, as he moved with reckless need, his breath ragged against your ear. 

“More, Hoon. Please, more,” you pleaded, as if he wasn’t already ramming mercilessly into you making every nerve in your body dance in pleasure.

“You’re so horny for me,” he murmured against your lips, his fingers gripping your thighs as he lifted you against him. “Can’t even wait till we got to the bed, huh?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed into you, the heat of the shower only amplifying the sensation. “This was your idea,” you whispered, but it came out shaky, wrecked.

He chuckled, low and deep. “I know. But you want this too, don’t you?” he said, voice smooth as his lips traced down your throat. “You want me so bad. You’re begging me for more, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t answer—not in words, at least. But when you tightened your grip around his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, he took it as confirmation.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

You whimpered when he hit a delicious spot, holding onto him tighter. “Hoon, you fuck so good.”

He grunted, spurred on by your admission. He was fast, desperate—like he couldn’t get enough, like he had to claim every inch of you right then and there. When he finally tipped over the edge, dragging you down with him, he held you through it, his lips pressing on your temple as your body trembled in his arms.

The moment was fleeting, but the desire didn’t leave just yet. You could still feel it in his touch even as he set you back on your feet. The moment you stepped out of the shower, Sunghoon grabbed a towel, barely bothering to dry you properly before he lifted you off your feet, carrying you out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and into what you only assumed was his bedroom.

This time, there was no rush.

He laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin, his touch softer now, more reverent. “Look at you,” he murmured, eyes tracing over every inch of you, dark with something more than just lust. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

Your breath came uneven as he leaned down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, lower—each one dragging a gasp from your lips.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your skin.

“You,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?” He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Then take me,” he added, just before he filled you up again.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent, or desperate. It was slow, deep, and overwhelming in the most delightful way. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breath warm against your face, whispering in between kisses.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” he murmured, moving languidly. “You feel so good. You’re taking me so well.”

Every whispered praise sent shivers down your spine, made you cling to him even tighter, and made the pleasure build until it was unbearable.

The night was young and it was not gonna end just yet. And so the hours blurred into moments of euphoric highs, fleeting clarity, and intense need to ravage and be ravaged. His name was the only thing you could say—over and over—until you were both left breathless, tangled together in the sheets, completely undone.

In the morning, you probably wouldn’t remember every detail of tonight, but you’d remember this—remember the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. In the dim glow of Sunghoon’s bedroom, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, lips swollen from too many kisses, you let yourself forget. Forget the rules. Forget that this was never supposed to feel like more. Just for tonight, he was yours, and you were his.

The morning light streamed in through the sheer curtains, hurting your eyes a little. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented, until the scent of Sunghoon’s shampoo on your skin and the warmth of the bed beneath you reminded you where you were.

You turned over to find him already awake, his arm tucked behind his head as he looked at you with a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

His fingers skimmed down your arm. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

A slow blink. Then, a scoff. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his gaze flickered down to your lips. “You drool a little, though.”

You smacked his arm. “I do not.”

His laughter was low and teasing, as he caught your wrist then tugged you closer. His body was warm against yours, and his breath was even warmer as he kissed the curve of your neck.

“We should get up,” you said, but neither of you moved.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his soft kisses trailing down to your shoulder. “In a bit,” he added before reaching to cup your cheek and kiss your lips.

One thing led to another and suddenly, you were underneath him again, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The morning air was cool, but his hands were warm as they skimmed down your waist, his touch slow, and smooth. 

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured against your lips, smiling when you shivered under him.

“So are you,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Guess we’re even, then.”

His hands slid over your bare skin, his touch reverent. He kissed you deeply, guiding you through the lazy tangle of limbs and soft gasps, dragging it out like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you finally got out of bed, Sunghoon had already dug through his closet, tossing you an old hoodie and some sweatpants. You pulled them on and followed him down the quiet hallway.

The house felt still—too still. Only then did you notice the dust gathering on the bookshelves, the faint scent of time in the air.

“This place has been empty for a while now,” Sunghoon said casually from behind you when he noticed you looking around. “My family moved a few months ago to take care of my grandparents.”

Your brows lifted. “So no one lives here?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I come by sometimes. I technically still live here, I'm just not here often.”

That made sense. There was something about the house—it felt untouched, frozen in time, like stepping into a memory. You walked further into the hall, your fingers grazing along the walls and stopping at the framed photographs hanging there.

You studied them, tilting your head. Sunghoon as a kid, bright-eyed and grinning, a missing tooth on full display. A younger version of him on a skating rink, mid-game, frozen in motion. Another picture—him and his family, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, and several of him in a skating rink, different poses, taken in the middle of a routine.

“You skate?”

Sunghoon smiled, standing beside you and looking up at the photos. “Used to. I was in the national team for a while.”

“Why did you stop?” you asked glancing up at him and seeing the reminiscent look on his face.

He simply shrugged. “I had to be realistic. I enjoyed the sport but I couldn’t see myself doing it for a long time.”

You bit back a smile. “You were kind of adorable.”

Sunghoon scoffed, stepping up behind you. “I still am.”

“Debatable.”

He tugged at your hoodie—his hoodie—pulling the hood over your head before nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

The drive back to the city was uneventful, the radio playing softly in the background. Sunghoon’s hand rested on the wheel, his other lazily draped over your thigh, tracing absentminded patterns through the fabric of his sweatpants that you were still wearing. You were talking, laughing, stealing quick glances at him between songs on the stereo.

At some point, he cleared his throat. “So… what are you doing later?”

“I have a group project.” You groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I’m meeting up with my classmates later.”

“Right. Group project.” He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Sounds boring.”

“It is,” you huffed. “Why’d you ask?”

“No reason.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but you caught the way his grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. A second passed before he spoke again, this time even more nonchalant. “What about tomorrow?”

You tilted your head. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Just classes, I think.” You turned to him, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Do you wanna grab lunch with me tomorrow?”

You stared at him for a moment, then grinned teasingly. “Are you asking me out on a date, Park Sunghoon?”

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink, but he scoffed like the idea was ridiculous. “I’m just saying we should get lunch.”

“Mmm.” You pretended to think. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date.”

You scoffed in playful exasperation. “Dude, I was naked on top of you last night and a couple of other nights before. Surely we’re way past shy invitations for lunch dates?”

“I’m asking you to eat.” He paused, then added with a tilt of his head, “But if you wanna call it a date, that’s fine too. Labels are overrated.”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hm. I guess I’ll allow it.”

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. It’s settled then,” he said, stopping at a red light.

He leaned over to kiss you, catching you off guard but only for a moment. You kissed him back, albeit a little confused. When he pulled away, he was wearing a proud smirk on his face and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, shifting the gear as the light turned green again. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to his lips.

One hour later, you reached your apartment complex, but had to you stay a few more minutes in his car because he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, kissing and touching right there in the parking lot. You had to forcefully push him away and remind him that you had classes and important stuff to attend to. Even then, he was reluctant to let you go.

After a dramatic goodbye that had him pouting as he drove away, you climbed up the building with a sickening grin on your face. You unlocked your door, stepping inside with a lightness in your chest, breathing in the familiar smell of your home. 

The past few days had been a rollercoaster for you, with all the guessing and expectations and disappointments. But now, you were feeling much lighter, much happier. The good days with Sunghoon were all you could think of, playing back in flashes—the sound of his laugh in your space, the weight of his arm over your waist in the morning, the smell of his skin at night, the way he always left the bathroom mirror fogged up because he took ridiculously hot showers.

Tossing your bag onto the couch, you leaned against the door for a moment, smiling to yourself. Sunghoon was nice, but he always drew an invisible line. Not this time. You could tell by the way he held you this morning, the way he was reluctant to part from you, and how he’d asked to hang out with you for lunch—outside, in public. It felt like, for once, you both wanted the same thing. No second-guessing, no mixed signals—you were finally moving the same direction.

Your gaze drifted to the hoodie he’d left draped over the chair, his specs on your nightstand, and the half-empty tumbler beside it—subtle proofs that he’d started leaving pieces of himself behind. You wondered if he even realized it.

And more than that, you wondered where this would go next.

The next morning, you woke up too early. Way too early.

You groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your back as you stared at the ceiling. It was ridiculous. You’d seen Sunghoon plenty of times before—hung out, spent nights together, and shared more than just passing glances. But the idea of today, of a proper lunch date, had you wide awake before the sun was even fully up. Maybe it was because, for once, you weren’t just meeting up in the comfort of your apartment or his. It would be something different. Something real.

You giggled at the thought, covering your face with your blanket and then flailing your arms and legs. 

Admitting that to yourself felt embarrassing, so you dragged yourself out of bed and decided to be productive. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make the most of it.

A jog around the neighborhood. A quick stop at the store. And before you knew it, you were back in your apartment, unpacking groceries and deciding, on a whim, to actually cook breakfast. When was the last time you did that? You couldn’t even remember.

By the time you arrived on campus, you were still riding the high of a morning well-spent. Your good mood didn’t go unnoticed—your friends picked up on it immediately, teasing you about the extra bounce in your step. You brushed them off with the excuse of getting enough sleep, but they weren’t wrong. Everything just felt lighter today.

Even classes didn’t seem so unbearable. You participated. You took notes. You weren’t counting down the minutes to leave—well, not exactly. But the closer lunchtime got, the more restless you became, checking your phone every so often even though you knew you were the only one keeping track of time this obsessively.

Then, just as you were leaving your last morning class, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: Hey pretty. Something came up. I can’t do lunch today. I’m sorry. Sunghoon: I’ll make it up to you later tonight, okay?

Your steps slowed, but you kept moving, staring at the text longer than necessary.

Bummed. That was the best way to describe it. You weren’t mad—plans get canceled all the time, and at least he let you know ahead of time—but disappointment still settled in the pit of your stomach. You took a breath, shook it off, and responded with a simple, It’s fine. See you later.

Lunch with your friends helped a little. You laughed, caught up on random gossip, and even let them drag you to a café afterward. You weren’t dwelling on it. Really, you weren’t.

Until you stepped out of the café and saw him. Sunghoon, standing outside the campus gates. And he wasn’t alone. 

Jenna was with him.

You stopped in your tracks, heart lurching in a way you hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t just that he was there, but the way he was standing close to her, the way she was talking, nudging his arm like she had every right to be in his space.

Sunghoon must have felt someone staring at him because he glanced your way and saw you. His eyes brightened in recognition, and he greeted you casually, like nothing was out of the ordinary. But you didn’t even know how to react. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked past him, barely sparing a glance, pretending as if you weren’t close. As if he was just someone you barely knew.

Your friends who saw that were confused, following behind you after quick greetings to both Sunghoon and Jenna. 

Tammy caught up to you, nudged your arm, and asked, “Where are you running off to after ignoring Sunghoon like that?”

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone,” you muttered.

“You totally were,” Lily chimed in, linking arms with you as she leaned to speak in a quieter voice. “That’s so fishy. What’s going on?”

You didn’t respond, your mind too muddled to even try and come up with a good answer. As you rounded the corner, your phone buzzed a second later.

Sunghoon: Hey. What was that?

You ignored it, as well as the other messages that followed. 

The rest of the afternoon slipped through your fingers in a haze of self-pity. You curled up on the couch, aimlessly flipping through movies, but nothing got your attention. The voices blurred together, scenes passed without meaning. You weren’t devastated. You weren’t heartbroken. You were just... mad. Annoyed that after everything, after how good things had been, this was what it came down to. But getting worked up wouldn’t do anything. So, you forced yourself to let it go. 

Or at least, you tried. It was impossible when he kept creeping into your thoughts—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you just yesterday—like he wanted this as much as you did.

You didn’t even realize you had dozed off until the sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake.

You blinked against the glow of the screen. Sunghoon.

For a moment, you stared at his name, your heartbeat loud in the quiet of your apartment. You could ignore it. You could let it ring out and pretend you were still asleep. You could put an end to this charade, to tell him you were done and sick of it. But you didn’t.

You answered. His voice was gentle, cautious. “Can I come over?”

You should say no. You should end this here and now. Enough is enough. But… “Yeah. Of course,” you said, trying your best to sound normal.

Half an hour later, he was in your apartment, hands on you, lips on yours, familiar and desperate. And, as always, you let him in—physically, emotionally, despite knowing better. You let yourself believe that maybe, for just a little longer, this could be enough.

Afterward, you slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom to wash up. By the time you returned, the room was dark, the only source of light was coming from Sunghoon’s phone on the nightstand. He was already asleep, his breathing even, his body sprawled across your sheets like he belonged there.

You reached for the blanket to pull it over him when his phone buzzed, the screen glowing against the dim light. Your gaze flickered to it, drawn by instinct.

Jenna calling...

Your chest tightened at the name. For a moment, you just stood there, watching the name flash across the screen before it faded into darkness. You could answer it. You could see what she wanted, hear her voice, and confirm everything you had been trying so hard to ignore.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed into bed, curling up beside Sunghoon, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You knew what you had to do. Knew that when he woke up, this had to end for good.

But not yet.

For now, while he was still yours—warm, close, familiar—you let yourself have this one last moment. You closed your eyes and pretended everything was okay, even though you knew exactly what tomorrow would bring.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. The space beside you was cold. 

It was over.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. You had spent the night convincing yourself that you were ready for this, ready to end things, but the second you woke up to find him gone, the ache in your chest became unbearable.

Tears welled up before you could stop them. You curled into yourself, pressing your face against the pillow, sobbing into the fabric as if that could somehow muffle the sound. This wasn’t supposed to hurt. You weren’t supposed to grieve something that was never really yours. But you did.

You let yourself fall apart, mourning what could have been, whispering prayers into the silence that it didn’t have to end this way.

And then the door creaked open. You gasped, jolting up, eyes red and blurry as Sunghoon stepped into the room, holding your tumbler in his hand. 

His brows furrowed at the sight of you, eyes widening in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing to your side, setting the tumbler down before cupping your face and wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Hey—why are you crying?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you sobbed against him. He didn’t ask any more questions. He just held you, rubbing your back, shushing you gently even though he didn’t understand what had you so upset.

After a long moment, you finally managed to choke out, “I thought you were gone.”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, blinking at you in confusion. Then, to your utter annoyance, he started laughing.

“What do you mean, gone?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I literally just went to shower and get you some water.”

You smacked his arm, your face burning. “Don’t laugh at me, you jerk!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, though he was definitely still laughing.

Something about his amusement made you snap. Maybe it was the pent-up emotions, or maybe it was the fact that you had nothing left to lose—but suddenly, everything came spilling out.

You confessed it all.

How you weren’t supposed to catch feelings, but you did. How you tried to push them down, to ignore them, but they never really went away. How you had spent so long pretending to be fine with this casual arrangement, knowing deep down that you weren’t. How much it crushed you to think that he was trying to win Jenna back, how much it hurt when he canceled on you, and how stupid you felt for letting yourself get so attached.

Sunghoon stared at you, utterly dumbfounded.

You sniffled, swallowing back the last of your tears. “Well? Say something.”

And then, to your horror, he started laughing again.

Your stomach twisted. “Are you kidding me right now?”

But before you could shove him away, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Hard.

Your breath hitched, but you melted into it, gripping his shirt as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment all along. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. “I like you,” he admitted. “A lot.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. “You’re fun, you don’t take my shit, and you get me in a way that most people don’t. I’m always looking forward to seeing you. To hearing whatever sarcastic thing you were gonna say next. To just… being with you.”

“Then why—”

“I wasn’t with Jenna because of what you think.” His hands slid down to hold yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “There was an accident with the exhibit setup, and I had to be there. She just happened to walk out with me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And the part where you’re trying to get back with her?”

Sunghoon made a face. “Where did you even hear that?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “A mutual friend.”

He huffed. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know!” You did, but you weren’t about to admit that you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting too much from him—like you were demanding something that was never part of your deal.

Sunghoon sighed, squeezing your hands. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I only have eyes for you.” His lips quirked. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t realize how much I liked you at first, but ever since we started this, I haven’t thought about anyone else.”

Your heart stuttered.

Then he smirked. “I thought we had an understanding. Did we really need a label for it?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Right. Labels are overrated.”

Sunghoon kissed you deeply, and this time, you returned it with the same amount of sweet abandon. Then he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he murmured. “And right now, I’m wondering if you’d wanna be mine too.”

You let out a sharp breath, your chest tightening at his words. For a second, you just stared at him—his dark eyes searching yours, his expression completely open, completely vulnerable.

Then you scoffed, shaking your head with an exasperated laugh.

“For fuck's sake, Sunghoon.” You squeezed his hands, tugging him just a little closer. “I’m already yours.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could say anything else, stealing the last of your breath, and this time, you didn’t hold anything back.

[fin]

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: black science fiction

As february and black history month nears its end, if you're a reader let's not forget to read and appreciate books by black authors the rest of the year as well! If you're a sci-fi fan like me, perhaps this list can help find some good books to sink your teeth into.

Bleak dystopias, high tech space adventures, alien monsters, alternate dimensions, mash-ups of sci-fi and fantasy - this list features a little bit of everything for genre fiction fans!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves at the center of this presence, attempting to shepherd an alien ambassador as chaos spreads in the city. A strange novel that mixes the supernatural with the alien, shifts between many different POVs, and gives a one of a kind look at a possible first contact.

Nubia: The Awakening (Nubia series) by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Hayes

Young adult. Three teens living in the slums of an enviromentally ravaged New York find that something powerful is awakening within them. They’re all children of refugees of Nubia, a utopian African island nation that sank as the climate worsened, and realize now that their parents have been hiding aspects of their heritage from them. But as they come into their own, someone seeks to use their abilities to his own ends, against their own people.

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Novella. After having failed at establishing a new colony, starship Calypso fights to make it back to Earth. Acting captain Jacklyn Albright is already struggling against the threats of interstellar space and impending starvation when the ship throws her a new danger: something is hiding on the ship, picking off her crew one by one in bloody, gruesome ways. A quick, excellent read if you want some good Alien vibes.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Includes darker examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Do You Dream of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh

Young adult. A century ago, an astronomer discovered a possibly Earth-like planet. Now, a team of veteran astronauts and carefully chosen teenagers are preparing to embark on a twenty-three year trip to get there. But space is dangerous, and the team has no one to rely on but each other if - or when - something goes wrong. An introspective slowburn of a story, this focuses more on character work than action.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord

After the planet Sadira is left uninhabitable, its few survivors are forced to move to a new world. On Cygnus Beta, they work to rebuild their society alongside their distant relatives of the planet, while trying to preserve what remains of their culture. Focused less on hard science or action, The Best of All Possible Worlds is more about culture, romance and the ethics and practicalities of telepathy.

Mirage (Mirage duology) by Somaiya Daud

Young adult. Eighteen-year-old Amani lives on an isolated moon under the oppressive occupation of the Valthek empire. When Amani is abducted, she finds herself someplace wholly unexpected: the royal palace. As it turns out, she's nearly identical to the half-Valthek, and widely hated, princess Maram, who is in need of a body double. If Amani ever wants to make it back home or see her people freed from oppression, she will have to play her role as princess perfectly. While sci-fi, this one more has the vibe of a fantasy.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Where It Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon

The planet Swazembi is a utopia of color and beauty, the most beautiful of all its citizens being the Rare Indigo. Lileala was just named Rare Indigo, but her strict yet pampered life gets upended when her beautiful skin is struck by a mysterious sickness, leaving it covered in scars and scabs. Meanwhile, voices start to whisper in Lileala's mind, bringing to the surface a past long forgotten involving her entire society.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara "Hurricane Staxxx" Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future.

Parable of the Sower (Earthseed duology) by Octavia E. Butler*

In a bleak future, Lauren Olamina lives with her family in a gated community, one of few still safe places in a time of chaos. When her community falls, Lauren is forced on the run. As she makes her way toward possible safety, she picks up a following of other refugees, and sows the seeds of a new ideology which may one day be the saviour of mankind. Very bleak and scarily realistic, Parable of the Sower will make you both fear for mankind and regain your hope for humanity.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

War Girls (War Girls duology) by Tochi Onyebuchi

In an enviromentally fraught future, the Nigerian civil war has flared back up, utilizing cybernetics and mechs to enhance its soldiers. Two sisters, by bond if not by blood, are separated and end up on differing sides of the struggle. Brutal and dark, with themes of dehumanization of soldiers through cybernetics that turn them into weapons, and the effect and trauma this has on them.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds duology) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s a catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled-off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Eart trilogy) by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We get to follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her missing daughter. While mostly fantasy in genre, this series does have some sci-fi flavor, and is genuinely some of the best books I've ever read, please read them.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine's mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die.

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gifted duology) by N.E. Davenport

After Ikenna's grandfather is assasinated, she is convinced that only a member of the Praetorian guard, elite soldiers, could’ve killed him. Seeking to uncover his killer, Ikenna enrolls in a dangerous trial to join the Praetorians which only a quarter of applicants survive. For Ikenna, the stakes are even higher, as she's hiding forbidden blood magic which could cost her her life. Mix of fantasy and sci-fi. While I didn’t super vibe with this one, I suspect fans of action packed romantasy will enjoy it.

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

1960s classic. Rydra Wong is a space captain, linguist and poet who is set on learning to understand Babel-17, a language which is humanity's only clue at the enemy in an interstaller war. But Babel-17 is more than just a language, and studying it may change Rydra forever.

Pet (Pet duology) by Akwaeke Emezi

Young adult novella. Jam lives in a utopian future that has been freed of monsters and the systems which created and upheld them. But then she meets Pet, a dangerous creature claiming to be hunting a monster still among them, prepared to stop at nothing to find them. While I personally found the word-building in Pet lacking, it deftly handles dark subjects of what makes a human a monster.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Lion's Blood by Steven Barnes

Alternate history in which Africans colonized South America while vikings colonized the North. The vikings sell abducted Celts and Franks as slaves to the South, one of which is eleven-years-old Irish boy Aidan O'Dere, who was just bought by a Southern plantation owner.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow

Young adult dystopia. Ellie lives in a future where humanity is under the control of the alien Ilori. All art is forbidden, but Ellie keeps a secret library; when one of her books disappears, she fears discovery and execution. M0Rr1S, born in a lab and raised to be emotionless, finds her library, and though he should deliver her for execution, he finds himself obsessed with human music. Together the two embark on a roadtrip which may save humanity.

Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Lelah lives in future Botswana, but despite money and fame she finds herself in an unhappy marriage, her body controlled via microchip by her husband. After burying the body of an accidental hit and run, Lelah's life gets worse when the ghost of her victim returns to enact bloody vengeance.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith

Young adult. Fen de la Guerre, living in a quarantined Gulf Coast left devestated by storms and sickness, is forced on the run with a newborn after her tribe is attacked. Hoping to get the child to safety, Fen seeks to get to the other side of the wall, she teams up with a scientist from the outside the quarantine zone.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

The Splinter in the Sky by Kemi Ashing-Giwa

Space opera. Enitan just wants to live a quiet life in the aftermath of a failed war of conquest, but when her lover is killed and her sister kidnapped, she's forced to leave her plans behind to save her sister.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The City We Became (Great Cities duology) by N.K. Jemisin, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole

[yua0ra]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝

WARNINGS: mattheo riddle x high!fem!reader, porn with plot, dark smut, blood play, p in v, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, blood kink!matty, submissive reader, biting, marking, breeding, NSFW, proofread, english is not my first language. smut 🂡

SUMMARY: Mattheo craves something, a feeling of satisfaction, fulfilment and control. Luckily for him, you are open and eager to try new things, and for once, Mattheo feels like he has found his person.

WC: +4.4K AN: This took so fucking long. I don’t think ya’ll are ready, lol. I’m being so serious: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, for the love of salazar. (also, anybody got the reference form the title?)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

Touch-starved, love-starved, and attention-starved, Mattheo Riddle is no stranger to the art of indulgence. He thrives on the fleeting comfort offered by the endless parade of admirers eager to bask in his presence. Their adoration, their touch, their devotion—it’s enough to quiet the gnawing ache inside him, at least for a while. But it never truly satisfies. Beneath the smirks, the cocky demeanor, and the effortless charm, there’s an emptiness he can’t seem to fill.

He craves more. Something deeper, rawer, more exhilarating than the hollow affection he’s grown accustomed to. Something that sparks a fire in his chest and sends a thrill coursing through his veins. The superficial games, the fleeting highs, and the shallow connections no longer cut it. Mattheo Riddle wants something real, something that will consume him whole.

And yet, even as he yearns for this elusive fulfillment, he’s not sure he’s ready to face what it might demand of him. After all, it’s one thing to take; it’s another to give. And Mattheo has never been one to bare his soul. Not when the world has taught him to hide behind walls, even when he’s desperate for someone to break them down.

He has tried everything—fucking in public, fucking with a blindfold on, fucking with a leash, chasing thrill after thrill, and losing himself in the chaos of reckless nights. He’s tried drowning the ache with the loud laughter of parties, the rush of danger, and the fleeting touch of hands that mean nothing. For a moment, it works. For a moment, the void in his chest quiets, and he feels like he’s alive, like he’s in control. But the moment always fades.

No matter how many hearts he wins or how many rules he breaks, it all slips through his fingers, leaving him colder and more restless than before. The poor, desperate, girls—pretty faces, eager smiles—don’t even come close to touching the parts of him he keeps hidden. It’s not their fault. They give him everything they can. But it’s not enough.

It’s never enough.

What Mattheo craves isn’t something he can find in fleeting encounters or shallow connections. It’s something more profound, more consuming, more terrifying. He wants someone who sees past the charm, the arrogance, the calculated indifference. Someone who will unravel him piece by piece and make him feel alive in a way that no one ever has.

But that kind of connection doesn’t come easy. And for someone like Mattheo Riddle—guarded, scarred, and stubborn—it might never come at all. Still, he can’t help but hope. Somewhere deep down, beneath the layers of cynicism and self-doubt, he’s holding onto the faint belief that someone, someday, might finally be able to quiet the storm inside him.

Good thing that you’ve noticed, though. Mattheo’s restless energy, the way his eyes linger just a second too long, searching for something even he can’t quite name—it’s not something he hides well. He tells himself he’s a master of masks, of slipping into the version of himself people expect, but the cracks are showing. And you’ve seen them.

You’ve seen the way he leans into conversations as if he’s desperate for someone to say the right thing. You’ve caught the fleeting vulnerability in his gaze when he thinks no one’s paying attention. For all his bravado, for all the careless smirks and sharp retorts, Mattheo is an open book to those who care enough to read between the lines.

And maybe that’s why he’s drawn to you, even if he won’t admit it. You don’t fawn over him like everyone else. You don’t fall into his orbit just because he’s Mattheo Riddle. Instead, you see him. The real him. The cracks, the flaws, the restless hunger for something more. And while it terrifies him, it also pulls him closer.

Because maybe, just maybe, you’re the one who can give him what he’s been searching for. Or maybe you’ll be the one to finally destroy him. Either way, Mattheo can’t seem to stay away.

Which leads to this specific moment—you, sitting pretty on his bed, high out of your mind in the early hours of the morning, the faint glow of moonlight casting shadows across the room. Your head tilts back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as if caught in the haze of a dream. You’re intoxicating, utterly untouchable yet so close that it drives him mad.

Mattheo stands a few feet away, leaning against the edge of his desk, watching you with a mix of fascination and frustration. You’re beautiful like this—unguarded, raw, and entirely out of reach. It’s unfair how effortlessly you’ve wrapped yourself around his thoughts, how your presence alone has him on edge.

“You’re not even trying, and you’re driving me insane,” he mutters, his voice low and rough as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He can’t tell if he’s more frustrated with you or himself. Probably himself. After all, he’s the one who let it get to this point.

You blink up at him, a lazy smile curling on your lips, the kind that makes his chest tighten. “What’s wrong, Riddle? Can’t handle a little company?”

He scoffs, but the tension in his body betrays him. “Company isn’t the problem,” he bites back, though his voice softens as his eyes linger on you. It’s not company he wants. It’s you. All of you. Every reckless thought, every untamed emotion, every unspoken secret. But he doesn’t know how to say that without sounding like a fool.

Instead, he stays where he is, hands gripping the edge of the desk, trying to keep himself grounded. You’re like a storm, and Mattheo isn’t sure if he wants to weather it or let it tear him apart completely.

You laugh softly, the sound like a spark in the quiet room, and shift on his bed, drawing your knees to your chest. The oversized sweater you’re wearing—his sweater—slips off one shoulder, exposing bare skin that makes his throat tighten. You’re a mess, and yet you look so perfectly out of place in his world that it makes him dizzy.

“Relax,” you say, your voice dreamy and far away. “You’re so tense all the time, Mattheo. Always thinking, always brooding.” Your gaze meets his, half-lidded but piercing in a way that leaves him raw. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

He swallows hard, jaw clenching as he forces himself to look away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, but the words lack conviction.

“Don’t I?” you counter, leaning forward slightly before standing up, moving across the room with an unsteady grace. You stop just behind him, and before he can turn or protest, your hands are on his shoulders. Delicate, careful, but firm—your touch makes him go still, the tension in his body seizing under the unexpected intimacy.

Your fingers work with a precision that sends a shiver down his spine, pressing into the knots in his shoulders as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s maddening how easily you disarm him, how your touch both soothes and ignites something in him he’s tried to keep buried.

“You’re so tense, darling” you murmur softly, your voice low and sweet, like a lullaby in the quiet room. “Do you ever let yourself relax, Mattheo? Or do you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders every single day?”

His breath catches, his grip on the desk tightening as he tries to fight the urge to lean into your touch. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a mix of irritation and something he can’t quite name.

“What does it look like?” you reply, your tone playful but laced with genuine concern. “You’re all wound up, and it’s exhausting just watching you. Let me help, for once.”

Mattheo doesn’t respond right away. He doesn’t know how to. No one’s ever touched him like this before—not with the intention of easing his burden, of grounding him in a way that feels almost… safe. It terrifies him how much he wants to give in, to let you pull him out of his own mind, if only for a moment.

“You shouldn’t…” he starts, but the words trail off as your fingers dig into just the right spot, coaxing a low groan from his lips before he can stop it.

“Shouldn’t what?” you tease, leaning closer so he can feel the warmth of your breath against his neck. “Take care of you? Show you that not everything has to be a fight?”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he lets his eyes fall shut, his body betraying him as it relaxes under your touch. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words.

You smile softly, your hands continuing their gentle rhythm. “Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice dipping lower. “Maybe I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

Your words linger in the air, soft but potent, cutting through the haze in his mind like a blade. Mattheo doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but you can feel the tension rolling off him, not in resistance but in something darker—something that borders on surrender.

“Is that what you think?” he finally murmurs, his voice low and rough, almost dangerous. His head tilts slightly, enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light. “That you know me? That you can handle whatever it is you’re inviting in?”

You don’t flinch. If anything, you press your fingers a little harder into his shoulders, grounding him, as if you’re not the least bit intimidated by the warning laced in his words. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t,” you reply, your tone steady, unwavering.

Mattheo’s lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl, his hands gripping the desk in front of him so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice trembles slightly, as if he’s teetering on the brink of losing control.

Carefully, you lean closer, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Then show me.”

It’s like a switch flips. In an instant, Mattheo is on his feet, spinning around to face you. His hands find your wrists, pulling them away from his shoulders, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he holds you there, his grip firm but not cruel, his dark eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

“You think this is a game, don’t you?” he asks, his voice soft but venomous, his face inches from yours. “You think you can come in here, touch me like that, look at me like that, and I won’t lose my mind?”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. “Lose your mind, Mattheo,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your pulse quickens under his touch.

That’s all it takes for Mattheo to snap. His hands release your wrists only to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with surprising tenderness, a sharp contrast to the possessive gleam in his eyes, he just stares at you, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. And then he breaks. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s all-consuming, overwhelming, like he’s trying to pour every dark, unspoken emotion into it. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the raw, obsessive need in every movement, every touch.

Mattheo isn’t gentle. He isn’t careful. But beneath the intensity, there’s something achingly vulnerable—a desperate, unspoken plea for you to stay, to see him, to claim him the way he’s beginning to realize he wants to claim you. You’re not sure what you’ve unleashed, but as you kiss him back, as his hands grip you tighter like you might disappear, you know there’s no turning back.

Mattheo’s hand flies over your plump ass, gripping the soft flesh with great force, making you moan into his mouth, the vibrations echoing against each other throats.

He swallows your sweet sounds greedily, his tongue delving deeper tasting inch of your warm mouth.

He pulls you even closer, showing you how good you’re making him feel, his hardening length poking you right against your lower stomach.

You can’t help it, you’re so greedy, so selfish, so fucking horny. All you want is him, him and him. Your body moves in autopilot, rubbing your body against his, creating a hypnotising friction between you two. His hand kneads and squeezes your ass even tighter, as he moves your bodies into the bed.

Breaking the kiss, Mattheo’s hungry mouth trails down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing over their racing pulse. He sucks hard, determined to paint your neck in purple, red and pink hues. Not bothering to leave any room for other lovers.

You can only let deep and low exhales, trying your hardest to maintain whatever is left of your composure. “Mhmm…. You like that baby? Huh?” You nod eagerly below him, still rocking your body forwards, grinding like a mad-woman.

“Words sweetheart, I want to hear you, yeah?” He looks at you intensely, his eyes narrowing slightly, “use that greedy mouth and let me hear you, pretty girl….” He commands, his hands roaming your body in a possessed manner. He just can’t help himself, he knows this was bound to happen, from the moment you two started talking to each other, he knew.

Squirming under his desperate touch you can’t help but smile, “y-yes, ugh,” you whimper when he pulls your jumper off your head. “You make me feel so good….” Your high making you feel things ten times stronger.

He torments you, fingers slowly tracing over one of your perky nipples as he carefully plays with the metal piercing. “Such a sweet girl, who would’ve guess this?” He laughs, his mouth moving from your throat to on nipple, his tongue swirling around the hard bud before sucking it into his mouth.

He rolls it between his teeth, applying just about enough pressure to make you gasp and arch into him. His other hand comes up to roughly palm your other breaths, pacing at the matching piercing.

He alternates, lavishing each nipples with attention. His mouth is hot and greedy, his saliva deliciously coating each one. He bites and sucks, matching your chest markings with your neck ones.

Mattheo’s left hand slides down with ease, expertly reaching your soaked panties, smiling when he feels your wetness. “Shit, baby, would you look at that?” He mutters in between your breasts, “so fucking ready,… dripping wet for me already, just how I like it.”

He cups your cunt, applying pressure on it, making your mouth open and closing with silent prayers. “Fuck, Matty, yeah, just like that…” Feeling satisfied, he finally leaves your sensitive and now colorful breasts alone, focusing on his most prized possession.

Your throbbing pussy.

With a quick movement he gets rid of the lacy underwear, grabbing you thighs and spreading your legs, positioning himself between them. He gets close, inhaling your arousal deeply. The smell making his head spin with pleasure, and he can’t help but try a little.

“Oh God…” You whisper, grabbing his head from the back, one hand teasing your breasts. You push his head further into you, so needy for this touch.

Mattheo grumbles againsts your soaked core, your flavour intoxicating, “take it, sweetheart, show me how you like to be eaten out.” He spreads your folds even wider, spitting into your core, flicking his tongue and diving his warm mouth back at it again, sloppily making out with your cunt.

He looks at you, his gaze never leaving yours. He loves to see your reactions, your body taking his treat so well, loves how expressive you are.

The endless slurping and the lewd noises, make you shake, tremble under his touch. He slides two fingers in, as his thumb rubs circles around your clit. This action makes your thighs pull him closer, suffocating him, but he doesn’t care. Mattheo wants to drown in your pussy, want his face covered in you, your sweet juice dripping down his chin. He’s just so obsessed, so fucking down bad.

His digits curling and pumping you full, in such a good way, such an explicit way, you roll your head back, your tongue darting out as you pant for air. You lungs are so overwhelmed, so full of desire, making you pathetically whimper as you begin to notice getting close. “M-mph fuck! Mattheo, God…”

He abruptly stops, making you whine loudly. “Not yet, my love… I want you cumming with my dick buried in this pretty little thing okay?” He undresses, tossing his clothes everywhere.

“No, please Matty…” you grind your hips in the air, your pussy clenching at nothing desperately wanting to feel his fingers in you again. “No… baby, please! I’m so, so, so close.…”

“Shh… my love,” he quiets you down, his drenched fingers now in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. “You need to learn how to be patient, because patient girls, get rewards….” Still sucking on his fingers he positions himself in front of your wet entrance, the head of his dick, so pink, so plump, so mouthwatering.

With his other hand, Mattheo grabs his dick, and slaps it a few times against your swollen lips. “Mhm.” Your arousal more than enough to be able to slide it in easily, but he doesn’t like easy. He wants more. Taking his fingers away from your mouth, he commands you “spit, princess, come on.”

You do as your told, spitting into his hand. Mattheo smiles “atta girl…” following your steps, he spits as well, to then rub the mixture of saliva on his angry cock. It makes it shiny, highlighting the veins and the sensible skin.

“Alright pretty… I’m going to fill you up, hm? ” Finally, Mattheo pushes his thick shaft into you, stretching you in unimaginable ways. He’s fucking huge, ripping your insides apart, as he tries to fit all of him inside your apparently tiny cunt. He can see his dick poking outside of your tummy, the sight making his eyes roll to the back of his head, as his lashes flutter in pleasure.

Mattheo hums lowly, his tone dropping an octave “oh s-shit, so tight f’me. Fuck, angel!” He grabs your legs, putting them in his shoulders, enhancing the heavenly sensation. You on the other hand, feel like you’re going to pass out. You can’t think, focusing all of your attention into the way he feels. Your red tired eyes, barely open, fill with tears as your hands lay lazily next to your head.

Mattheo rocks his body, picking up the pace. He needs to feel you closer, keep his hands busy with something. Him fucking you isn’t enough.

This is the point where normally Mattheo would come down from the initial, horny, high and give up on the search for something more raw, more exhilarating. Until an idea comes through, and his cock twitches inside of you.

He reaches for his wand, maintaining his fast rhythm, pumping in and out with extreme force, hitting spots that have never been hit, reaching beyond the g-spot, making you see stars, reach that almost unreachable nirvana.

He summons a silver, small, extremely pointed blade, and his hand reaches your chin. “Pretty girl? Look at me…” he flashes a shit-eating grin, one that makes you almost come instantly. “Fuck princess, can…can I mark you? Hm?” you barely process his question. “Can I make you mine? Are you going to let me ruin that beautiful skin of yours?” He persuades, but to be honest, you don’t need much, imagining his name carved into your skin, and fuck, it turns you on so much, the way his blood would mix with yours, ugh, you can’t wait, nodding in agreement.

He doesn’t waste any time, and slows down his fucking, turning his fast, rough thrusts into deep, almost loving ones. He makes himself comfortable, spreading your legs so wide, your pussy stretching even more. You’re going to be so sore, you can already feel it.

Mattheo tightens the grip on the blade, as he nears it towards your left inner thigh. “Relax for me, gorgeous… it’s going to hurt a bit, yes? But after, you’re going to feel better… so much fucking better.”

Relaxing your body, savouring the new pounding rhythm, you feel it. He presses the flat of the blade against your plush skin, the cold steel sending you shivers down your spine. He drags it with sensibility, leaving a deep, red line in its wake. The pain is sharp but fleeting, nothing compared to the dark pleasure radiating from his touch.

Mattheo’s leans down, his fingers tracing the lines, playing with the red, dense liquid, coating his fingers in your blood. His tongue flicks up, cleaning his digits, leaving them completely clean.

His eyes shutting for a moment at the coppery taste of you blood in his tongue. “Yes, yes, God, yes! You taste even better than I imagined,” his eyes open, gleaming with a crazed, obsessive light. A wicked, twisted smile spreads across his face. His teeth stained with red.

Mattheo's hand moves to your other thigh, the knife tracing a matching line to the first. He connects the cuts, forming an obscene, possessive mark - a dark, blood-red phrase 'property of M.R' etched into your flesh. The pain only serves to heighten the twisted, depraved pleasure coursing through you.

He groans, the vibrations rumbling through your core, his hips never falter in their relentless, punishing rhythm, driving into you with a force that borders on violence.

"That's my girl," he growls, his voice rough and ragged with lust. "My pretty little blood witch, so fucking perfect. I'll ruin you for anyone else, leave you wrecked and forever marked. You’re mine, you know that?”

Mattheo's hand slides up your body, wrapping around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make your heart race and your lungs burn. His eyes lock onto yours, burning with a fevered, wild glaze as he keeps pumping inside of you.

The bed creaks ominously beneath you, the blood dripping onto your most intimate areas, stoking the inferno raging inside you. Suddenly, he stills, his body pressed flush against yours, his breath coming in ragged, desperate pants.

He reaches up, his blood-stained fingers brushing your cheek with a sudden, shocking gentleness. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, rough and tinged with a desperate, aching need.

“Fuck, baby. I want... I need to feel it,” he rasps, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

Mattheo takes the pointed silver, the blade glinting as he presses the cold steel against your palm, guiding your hand to his chest. His skin is hot, flushed, and slick with sweat beneath your touch.

"Mark me, my love…," he urges, his voice a desperate, aching plea. “I want to wear your name.”

Your don’t have time to react as your hand moves automatically and he leans in closer, feeling his pulse race beneath your palm, a frantic, erratic rhythm that mirrors the wild, untamed beating of your own.

Mattheo's eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath escaping his lips as he feels the cold blade press into his heated skin. He doesn't flinch or pull away, instead arching into the sharp, sudden pain of the steel biting into his flesh. A low, guttural moan tumbles from his throat as he feels the first letter of your name being carved into his chest.

His hand fists in your hair, gripping tight, holding you in place as he guides your hand, urging you to carve deeper, harder. The pain is intense, searing, but it pales in comparison to feeling of fulfilment. Each letter you etch into his skin sends a bolt of electric, white-hot lust straight to his core, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside you.

Mattheo's hips begin to move again, thrusting in time with the brutal, possessive strokes of the sharp blade. The dual sensations of your initials being carved into his flesh and his sensitive member driving into your dripping cunt push him closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your hair tightens, his fingers twisting almost painfully in the strands as you both chases the release.

“I'm so fucking close, beautiful. I'm going to fill you up, mark you from the inside out. You'll be dripping with my cum, fucking drenched in it."

His thrusts become erratic, losing rhythm as he teeters on the brink of climax. The knife digs deeper, carving harder, the final letter of your name leaving a vivid, bloody scar on his chest. Mattheo throws his head back with a roar of ecstasy as he comes undone, his hot, thick seed erupting inside you, painting your walls white with his release.

At the same time, your pussy clenches, milking his cock tightly. The final wave of pleasure hitting you, as you drown in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck! Oh! ugh!” You scream, crying and whining, gasping for air.

He collapses against you, his body shaking and shuddering, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He inhales and exhales harshly, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as he clings to you, desperately, possessedly, like a man drowning and you're his only lifeline.

Mattheo's fingers tangle in your hair, fisting the strands almost painfully as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, dragging the scent of your skin into his lungs like a drowning man seeking air. When he speaks, his voice is a low, hoarse rasp, roughened by his exertions and the intensity of his emotions.

"Fuck, baby…," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "That was... fuck, that was incredible. You're... you're fucking incredible."

He lifts his head slightly, his dark, hooded eyes searching yours. In their depths, you see a whirlwind of emotions swirling together - the wild, reckless lust that consumed him, the dark, twisted possession that demands your complete surrender, and something else, something softer and more vulnerable that he rarely allows anyone to see.

Mattheo's thumb traces your lower lip, smearing the mixture of his blood and yours across your lips, as if applying lipstick, sealing it with his own. A shudder ripples through him as he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"Don't... don't go," he whispers, a desperate, aching plea underlying the words. "Stay with me, my love. Let me hold you, let me feel you in my arms. I... I need you, fucking now and forever."

[10byten]

Last night, I imagined Jaehyun telling everyone just how deeply in love he is with his girlfriend. The way he’d talk about what makes her so special in his eyes, how she’s this perfect mix of chaos and calm that he can’t get enough of. How she’s not just someone he loves—she’s the reason everything makes sense. And that’s it. Just Jaehyun, utterly smitten, trying to put into words what feels impossible to explain.

Jaehyun finally told the guys about you. The way you live in his head, rent-free. The way everything feels a little too quiet when you’re not there. He tried to keep you to himself, but he couldn’t anymore—not when you’re all he thinks about.

-

“Wait, can you say that again?” Mark’s eyes widen like a cartoon character caught mid-thought. The boys are all gathered around the living room table.

Jaehyun had called what they jokingly refer to as an “emergency assembly” to drop the bombshell: there’s someone in his life now, and he’s planning to move in with them. It’s time, apparently, to finally introduce them to his friends.

“I mean, I don’t know, you’ve been hyping this girl up for so long, and we still haven’t seen her. At this point, I’m starting to think she’s a figment of your imagination,” Johnny teases, leaning back in his chair.

“Ha. Ha.” Jaehyun deadpans, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know I’ve been talking about her for a while, and yeah, none of you have met her yet.”

“And we don’t want to meet her,” Jungwoo says, dramatically crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, hyung. We’re dying to meet your ghost girlfriend. Like, is this some ‘Ghost’ movie situation where only you can see her, or is she gonna appear if we summon her with a medium?”

Jaehyun throws a pillow straight at his younger friend’s face.

“She’s real,” he insists, his voice softer near the end as if embarrassed. “I just... didn’t want to share her. I wanted to keep her to myself for a while.”

“Oh, you were scared we’d steal your girl, huh, Jung?” Doyoung smirks.

Jaehyun snorts, shaking his head with a calm confidence. “Not a chance, Kim. She’s not into innocent little boys like you.”

Doyoung pulls a face, his mock outrage making everyone laugh.

“Well, I’m happy for you, man,” Taeyong says sincerely. “We’re all excited to meet her.”

“So, tell us—what’s so amazing about her?” Haechan leans forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Jaehyun’s gaze drops to the table, a thoughtful look washing over his face. Then his eyes light up, and a soft smile stretches across his lips.

“She has this... effect on me. When she’s not around, it’s like this itch I can’t scratch, and nothing feels right until she’s back. She’s got this way of making everything in my life just... easier. She makes me feel like even the stuff that doesn’t make sense is still okay, like it all fits somehow. Sometimes, it feels like she controls the weather—my weather—and I think maybe she does. At least in my world.”

He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy laugh. “Honestly, even I start to wonder if she’s a mirage. She must be made of some kind of magic, though, right? Because who else could do that to someone? Every time I’m with her, I feel a little more drunk on her. It’s weird, but I finally get that saying about having someone under your skin.”

The room falls silent. The guys are all staring at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

“And of course,” Jaehyun adds with a sheepish grin, “she’s gorgeous, sweet, sexy, brilliant, and funny.”

Haechan is the first to recover. “Hold up—what happened to the emotionally unavailable, zero-feelings Jaehyun we know? This guy’s a clone. We need to file a missing person report.”

“Shut up, idiot. It’s called being in love,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes. “You might figure that out one day if your brain ever grows up.”

“I know this doesn’t sound like me, but—”

“But it proves you’re really in love,” Yuta cuts in.

Jaehyun blushes and nods, unable to hide his smile.

“So, when do we get to meet this ‘delicious creature’ of yours?” Johnny asks, grinning like he’s not about to let it go.

-

“Hey, love. Where are you?”

You slip off your shoes the moment you walk into the apartment, already eager to see him. When Jaehyun spots you, his face lights up, and the book he was holding is instantly forgotten as he crosses the room to pull you into his arms. He lifts you slightly, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hello, love of my life.”

“Hello, you.” You kiss him softly.

“How was your day?” he asks, just like he always does.

“Intense. And yours?” you murmur, your fingers threading through his hair.

“Long without you. Fun with the guys,” he says, stealing a quick kiss.

“Oh yeah? What did you guys do?”

He looks at you deeply, his eyes full of warmth. “Talked. About stuff. About you.”

You tilt your head, feeling a mix of flattery and slight embarrassment.

“They’re coming for dinner tomorrow,” he says casually, brushing his lips against your cheek. “To finally meet you. Is that okay?”

“I’m okay with anything that involves you or the people you care about,” you reply between kisses.

Jaehyun groans softly against your lips. “You have to be unreal. Always saying the perfect thing.”

“Then I guess this is one beautiful illusion we’re living together.”

“It definitely is. babe”

-

Part 2

[livelaughlovesubs]

I have a small request which you can totally ignore if yous wants but-

Imagine Poe (bsd) feeling he isn't good enough and making a self-deprecating comment and reader fucking him while making him say (or until he says) he's worth it 💖

Ohhhh, that’s kinda sweet~ I like it heh

Dom!reader x sub!poe

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), praise kink, overstimulation, marking, fucked dumb

“Who’s my good boy? Who’s doing such a good job right now?”

There was only one right answer. It was him. Of course it was your dear partner. He’s been obeying you so nicely, bouncing up and down on top of you without taking a break. His back was facing you, giving you a nice view of his ass, as well as how your dick gets hurried inside him each time he slumps back into your lap. These shaking hands grabbed yours, making you hold onto his waist harder and leaving bruises behind.

You leaned against him, lips hovering above his neck as your hot breath tickled his skin. A shiver ran down his spine when you whispered something again, “answer me, pretty boy.” That’s what you said, but you wouldn’t give him time to speak and think! Relentlessly pounding him while kissing and sucking on his back, painting his body with marks and hickeys. Who would under such circumstances be able to speak properly? All he could let out were soft sobs paired with high-pitched whimpers. Back arched away from you, hands bawled into fists as he slams himself against your crotch.

His hair was a messy nest, flying around and obstructing his view, not that he could have registered anything anyway since he was only focused on the stretching feeling inside him. Every time he slows down for what reason ever, you’d run your hip upwards to meet his, hitting his prostate with such pinpoint accuracy that it makes him see stars. Electricity would course through his body like huge waves of pleasure, rendering him unable to even form a single coherent word. One of poe’s hands was wrapped around his dick to jerk himself off. But poor baby has been too distracted by the feeling of getting fucked dumb, so much that he forgot to move his hand. Now only holding it like it’s some kind of broken decoration that’s leaking its filth everywhere.

Really, everywhere. His precum spread to the sheets, his thighs, and even his belly. Now everything became sticky because of him. What a naughty boy he was, creating such a chaos. When Poe still didn’t muster enough energy to answer your questions, you squeezed down on his hips, getting a better grip before forcing him up and down your cock in a rough pace. “Hu- ah..aAAHHhHNHgG wait- y/n..!! Too much oh <3 too much!” He’d complain, but due to the moans it doesn’t sound very convincing. Watching his muscles tighten as more tears roll down his body, along with droplets of sweat. His rosy cheeks were so adorable, his body too, so perfect for you. A perfect little toy for you to adore.

Once again you groaned into his ear, “tell me, Poe, who’s my good boy?” After you finished your sentence, you noticed how his rim clenched down on you, holding onto you without wanting to let go. “Mhmm..! I- I…” he tried to answer you, he really did, yet whenever he opens his mouth only more whines would spill out. “Go on baby, take your time.” You smirked at him, a comforting smile that told him everything will be alright. Poe closed his eyes in an attempt to collect his thoughts, but it backfired and made him focus only on the way you stretched his walls. God it was heavenly, it was ecstasy he never experienced before. Whenever you just meekly brushed against his sweet spot, he’d mewl and squeak like a little slut.

This is no good, he was close, he had to answer you or else he might receive a punishment. Why do you want him to praise himself anyway? It’s so embarrassing! When you once again drove your dick deep inside him, hitting spots he never knew existed, he lost all energy and slumped back against your chest. A melting expression on his face as drool dripped down his chin, body sore from all the overstimulation already. His legs twitched around as a poor attempt to balance out the pleasure he received. He was exhausted, he couldn’t keep going anymore, all he did in that moment was giving himself to you completely, letting you use him like a toy.

“This won’t do, you have to speak, pretty boy.” You reminded him, while clasping one hand over his, the one pathetically trying to play with his own member. “Uhh.. it feels ah, hNng too good.” He gave out, barely able to register the meaning of your words. “Hmm, but you can speak right? Need me to repeat my question?” Even now you didn’t give up, fucking his brains out while giving him orders. “Hic, hmm… m-me… ah, I’m your go- uhHnn good boy..<3” Poe answered eventually, after that his tongue stuck out and his eyes rolled back. As if you milking his prostate wasn’t enough, you were forcing his hand to pump his length up and down now as well! He was going to break at this point!

“Good job, that’s right, you are my loveliest good boy, so be proud of it alright?” You said, before pointing into him faster and harder as a reward. “AhhHHHHh!! OohhH! Too much- too deep!!! Y/n HngHh, too fasttt!!” Aww, he’s crying about how he can’t handle this again, such an adorable thing. Since he’s encouraging you so feverishly, you had to respond to his pleads, right? Grinning from ear as to ear as you mumbled, “Shh, don’t worry, you won’t break that quick, I want to make this moment last.”

[cigsaftersuh]

my youth, your kitchen

chapter 13 .ᐟ ૮ jeno’s sweaty room with jeno ྀིა

𐙚 pairing: non-idol! jeno x f! reader (.◜◡◝)

𐙚 genre: slice of life + strangers to friends to lovers

𐙚 in which y/n, a pre-med student, who loves to cook & feed people, meets jeno, the quiet sports science major with a soft smile, and discovers that the way to someone’s heart really is through their gastrointestinal tract, their stomach.

prev 𐙚 next

ㅡ my youth, your kitchen.

you were curled up on the edge of jeno’s bed, the blanket he had thrown over you earlier still draped across your shoulders. your phone rested on your lap, the text from earlier weighing heavier than you wanted to admit.

a soft knock pulled your attention away. before you could respond, the door creaked open, and jeno stepped inside, balancing a small plate in one hand.

“hey,” he said softly, stepping inside. “thought you might want some s’mores… and strawberries. we made way too many.”

you looked up as he walked over, setting the plate on the desk. s’mores and chocolate-covered strawberries were neatly arranged, and the sight made you smile despite the lingering weight in your chest.

“thanks,” you said softly, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

jeno leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. “figured you shouldn’t miss out, even if you’re hiding in here.”

“not hiding,” you mumbled, though the corner of your lips tugged up. “just needed a breather.”

jeno shrugged, setting the plate on the desk beside the bed. “you’re missing out on all the chaos out there. thought i’d bring a little of it to you.”

a small laugh escaped you, and you tugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “i appreciate it, really.”

he pulled the chair out from his desk and turned it toward the bed, sitting down with an easy grace. “anytime,” he replied, his tone casual but gentle. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his gaze flicked to your phone.

“everything okay?”

you hesitated, your fingers grazing the edge of the blanket. “just got a text earlier,” you admitted. “kind of threw me off.”

jeno nodded, his gaze steady but understanding. “wanna talk about it?”

“it’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, waving it off even though part of you still felt the weight of it. “just... annoying? i guess.”

jeno nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “still, it’s not fun to deal with.”

you smiled faintly, appreciating how he didn’t press for details. instead, he reached for the plate, holding it out to you. “here. chocolate fixes everything”

you took a s’more, the marshmallow still warm. “thanks.”

“it’s way too loud out there anyway,” he said, nodding toward the door. “renjun and mark are still arguing about marshmallows. haechan’s just adding fuel to the fire. classic.”

you smiled faintly, the mental image pulling you out of your thoughts a little. “sounds like them.”

jeno’s lips quirked up. “jaemin’s pretending he’s above it all, but he’s been stealing s’mores when they’re not looking.”

“he would,” you said, laughing softly.

for a few moments, the two of you ate in comfortable silence. the faint laughter and voices from the living room filtering through the closed door, but it felt far away compared to the comfort of jeno’s room.

“so,” he said after a moment, leaning back in his chair, “you feeling any better? or do i need to make you another plate of s’mores?”

you smiled, shaking your head. “this is plenty. and yeah, i’m feeling a little better.”

“good,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “i’d hate for our s’mores night to be ruined.”

“well, you’re doing a great job of saving it,” you teased, taking another bite of your s’more.

jeno laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the blanket wrapped around you. “you’re seriously cold? it’s not even that chilly.”

you shrugged. “i get cold easily.”

“noted,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. “next time, we’ll just build a fire inside.”

“thank you” you joked, and he laughed again.

you glanced at him, noticing the way his smile lingered even after the laughter faded. he looked comfortable, his posture relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be but here.

“you don’t have to stay, you know,” you said, though part of you hoped he would.

jeno raised a brow. “what, and leave you here to overthink? not a chance.”

“i’m not overthinking,” you protested, though you couldn’t help but smile.

“sure you’re not,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “but just in case, i’ll stick around.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue. instead, you set your empty plate on the desk and shifted under the blanket, the warmth finally starting to sink in.

“so,” you said, breaking the silence, “what’s the verdict on the marshmallow debate out there?”

jeno groaned, running a hand through his hair. “don’t even get me started. renjun thinks he’s some kind of marshmallow expert or something.”

you laughed softly. “he does take his s’mores seriously.”

“too seriously,” jeno said, shaking his head. “mark and jisung are just trying to toast one without setting it on fire, and haechan’s... well, being haechan.”

“so, chaos,” you said, smiling.

“the usual,” he replied, grinning.

for a while, the two of you talked about everything and nothing — renjun’s marshmallow lectures, mark’s accidental disasters, and the ridiculous things chenle always managed to say. the conversation felt easy, like you’d known him much longer than a day.

at some point, you realized you weren’t thinking about the text anymore. instead, you were focused on the way jeno’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he leaned forward slightly when he was telling a story, like he couldn’t help but get caught up in it.

“thanks, jeno,” you said suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

he blinked, caught off guard. “for what?”

“for this,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “for staying and making me feel better.”

his expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on you. “anytime,” he said simply, and you knew he meant it.

you smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading as the laughter from the living room carried on outside. for now, you were content right here, in the comforting presence of jeno’s room, with him by your side.

with love,

© cigsaftersuh

ʚ taglist - open ɞ

@t-102 @niniiflwr @dudekiss3r @defzcl @stqrgr7 @imalwaysjeno @jeongjaeleftbicep @rubiiisyeon @jae10velies @cookydream @222low @dearlyminhyung @mmjhh1998 @gukuwii @hyucksunset @chenlesfeetpic @urlocalbeaner5 @taeeflwrr @fullhyucksunny @hyuksworld @nmmsmari @jeonghansshitester @hyuckleberriii @yukisroom97 @zgzgzh @tannieflix @olladecaramelos @haelvrty @nujeskz @kukkurookkoo @remgeolli

[zeroseuniverse]

can you make of nct 127 when reader gets sick

127 When You're sick

Taeyong – The Worried Mom™

Taeyong goes into full mom mode. He’s fluffing your pillows, making soup from scratch, and googling home remedies as if he's studying for an exam. "Are you comfortable? Do you need more blankets? Wait, are you too hot? Let me check your temperature again." He won’t leave your side unless absolutely necessary, and even then, he’ll text you every five minutes to check in.

Johnny – The Entertainer

"Being sick sucks, but don’t worry! You’ve got Johnny Suh, world-class nurse and comedian, at your service!" He brings you snacks, puts on your favorite shows, and makes terrible jokes to keep you entertained. He might not be the best cook, but he’ll order whatever you want and stay by your side, making sure you’re smiling even when you feel awful.

Yuta – The Overprotective One

"WHO got you sick?!" Yuta is ready to throw hands with the virus itself. He’s hovering over you, making sure you take medicine exactly on time and refusing to let you do anything. "No, you’re not getting up. Lay back down. I’ll get it for you." Even if you just want to go to the bathroom, he insists on walking you there. He’s that protective.

Doyoung – The Strict But Caring Nurse

Doyoung takes his job very seriously. "Drink this. No, all of it. Now rest. No phone." He’ll lecture you about taking care of yourself while simultaneously spoiling you with home-cooked meals and warm tea. He pretends to be strict, but if you give him puppy eyes, he’ll sigh dramatically and let you cuddle up to him.

Jaehyun – The Soft Caretaker

Jaehyun is just... soft. He brings you extra blankets, holds your hand while you rest, and speaks in the gentlest voice. "I’ll be right here, just sleep, okay?" He rubs soothing circles on your back if you have chills and doesn’t complain at all if you get him sick too. Lowkey, he enjoys taking care of you and will probably kiss your forehead even if it risks him getting sick.

Jungwoo – The Clumsy Nurse

Jungwoo means well, but he’s kind of a mess. He brings you soup, but it’s too hot. He tries to tuck you in but accidentally pulls the blanket off. "I GOT YOU MEDICINE—wait, I forgot the spoon." Despite the chaos, he’s incredibly sweet, showering you with affection and making sure you don’t feel lonely. He’ll cuddle you even if you warn him he might get sick too.

Mark – The Confused but Trying™ Boyfriend

Mark is panicking a little. "Uh, so like... what do I do? Do I make soup? Do we even have soup??" He’s running around the house trying to figure out the best way to help. He’ll probably FaceTime his mom for advice. "Yeah, she’s really sick. What should I do?" Despite his cluelessness, he’s super attentive and will stay by your side the whole time.

Haechan – The Dramatic One

"You’re sick?! Oh no, my baby! This is so tragic!" He’s dramatic about it but also very clingy. He’ll whine if you tell him not to get close, saying, "If I get sick, at least we can suffer together." He tries to cheer you up with jokes and bad puns, but when he sees you feeling really unwell, he gets serious, making sure you rest properly and holding you close.

[twig-tea]

GL Odds and Ends January 2025

I'm still trying to figure out what 2025 means for me in terms of where and how I spend my time, but one thing I am passionate about is making sure there is a record of GL media, so I'm going to try to prioritize keeping this up to at minimum monthly, though I might change up the format. Last one was end of December 2024. If you're interested in GL older than that, check out my GL rec list and my #gl recs tag for the other odds and ends posts. Series new to the roundup are marked with an asterisk*.

Currently airing (with thoughts up to 31 Jan):

Petrichor ep 9/10 (Thai, Saturdays, 10:00 AM ET, iQIYI) I've appreciated the struggle that Tul has gone through in terms of wanting to use her police powers to protect her family though that goes against her morals, and some of the procedural aspects I was grumbling about before have been explained by the plot. However, it still bothers me that she's not a very good detective. That being said, Engfa and Charlotte still have fantastic chemistry, and Na is having what seems like the time of his life.

*Us the series ep 2/12 (Thai, Saturdays, 8:00 AM ET, YouTube) I admit I think I have Chao Planoy fatigue. Age gap, both characters are lying to each other, there are abusive family members, and a guy who seems nice but I'm braced for a reveal about how he's actually awful. I'm feeling like I'm playing bingo. Honestly If someone gets hit by a car I might lose it. All my baggage aside, the pacing on this feels uneven and it doesn't feel like it has its feet yet.

*Call Me By No Name ep 4/8 (Japanese, Thursdays, 12:30 PM ET, GagaOOLala) Honestly I am not buying the romance between these two protagonists and I am finding them a little overwrought.

*Trunk Girl ep 1/? (Korean, possibly Thursdays, YouTube) This has just started, and the vibes are off. I am suspicious of the circumstances that led this runaway to stay with her friend, especially when she kissed her in her sleep (and I don't mean suspicious of sapphic feelings, those are already taken as given considering the genre).

*FirstLOVE ep 5/? (Korean, Mondays, YouTube) Toxic girlfriend gets replaced and then regrets letting her lover go. We'll see how this ends but this is another messy drama that feels pretty rough.

*I Am Devil ep 5/? (Thai, Saturdays, YouTube) Gonna be honest with y'all I watched ep1 and shelved the rest, it's a pulp in the style of high drama like Sastra and JPC below produce and just isn't my jam. If you're looking for high heat lakorn-style drama, give this a try.

[Note: Mate is still airing if you did not fast track, but since I did I've included it in the following section]

Recently Completed:

The Fragrance You inherit 8eps 25mins each (Japanese, 8 Nov 24-27 Dec 24, no official distribution but fansub on @isaksbestpillow's blog[thank you Siiri!] I loved this finale and wrote about it here. For those who don't want to click the link, in short this is not a romance but a really beautiful and sweet show about all kinds of interpersonal relationships.

Pluto 12eps 45 mins each (Thai, 19 Oct 24-04 Jan 25, YouTube) This series showcased the skills and chemistry of Namtan and Film, and had some of the most iconic product placement in a GL to date. The plot was messy but held together, and as much as I was unimpressed with their choices week to week, their choices made sense within the narrative (and genre) being told. I knew this one wasn't for me, but what it was doing, it did pretty well, and beautifully. The one real ding from me was the use of blindness as a metaphor that essentially got handwaved away; that and I think it was doing too much. But I am glad that before that, there was some great use of their platform to highlight the importance of universal design.

INTP 4eps 5 mins each (Korean, 27 Dec 24-22 Jan 25 YouTube) This is the latest short series from RedQ, who produced some of my favourite GL short series including More than or equal to 75 degrees C, and To the Ex who Hated Me. I said when this started that the setup of this one reminded me of Semantic Error if SangWoo realized he was attracted to JaeYoung at their first group assignment meeting, and I think that holds. These two fell for each other because they both care about the group project, and both protect each other. It's a bit short but I found it very sweet.

Mate, 12eps 50+ mins each (Thai, 26 Nov 24-28 Jan 25 fast-track or 4 Feb 25, WeTV (uncut version)) In the end this show remained a struggle for me. There were things it was doing that I really liked (the characters tried hard not to resort to noble idiocy, and when characters did resort to noble idiocy they were confronted with the consequences, for example), and things that I really did not, and there were parts that were really hard to watch and will haunt me. There are a lot of things I like about this show, so I don't want to discourage views. Just go into this one informed, and make the decision that's right for you.

*Adrenaline 4eps 15 mins each (Thai, 10 Jan-31 Jan 25, YouTube) This show is a cross between a travel ad and a lakorn. This is a major spoiler, but the main character has a secret condition where she forgets things that causes her to forget her first time with her girlfriend!? This show is so messy lol

Recent One-offs, Side Couples, etc.:

Fireworks of Yesteryear/When We Met has been made available on YouTube. A 35-minute Chinese GL that includes a makeout and as a result the production team have been working hard to get it in front of eyeballs. This is a moody piece with an open ending; there's an age gap too so YMMV (30s and 22).

GL microseries Your Name Engraved Herein (not to be confused with the BL feature film) has been subtitled by @douqi7s. Watch the original on Bilibili and enjoy the subs on YouTube. This one is also melancholy but it's some really tight storytelling in under 2 mins and manages to feel hopeful even though it's sad.

There is a lesbian side couple in Flirt Milk the series (airing now on iQIYI). This couple Noon and Praewa previously appeared as sides in Love Senior.

There is a new MV featuring a lesbian couple for the artist KnomJean on YouTube. This is one of those MVs that tells a story (TW for family violence) and after getting through the sad backstory, celebrates marriage equality in Thailand.

IdolFactory is re-running GAP the series on YouTube. If you've been putting off watching, now is a good time!

Speaking of re-runs, Yes Or No and the two sequel/spinoffs (Yes or No 2, and Yes or No 2.5) are all newly on GagaOOLala for streaming in some regions (I know for sure they're in North America, not sure about others)

Uranus2324 is starting to show up in particular places on the internet. I watched it and after all of the negative things I'd heard I actually liked it lol I'll see if I can write about it more this week

My suspected wlw sides in See Your Love ended up being implied only I was a little sad about this but at least I wasn't imagining the vibes.

Mom Ped Sawan is still airing but I still don't have a source for subs

Sastra film app YouTube channel has several short Cambodian GL series that come out weekly Honestly they are not to my taste but I don't like gatekeeping GL especially from smaller markets. I check in on these time to time and if there are any that I think are great I'll give them a shout-out

Ditto above with JPC media YouTube channel for Thai GL shorts if there are any that stand out to me I'll say so; that being said I haven't had time recently so if I've missed anything good let me know!

Starting soon:

Reverse With Me (sequel spinoff to Reverse 4 U), Thai, 5 Feb, iQIYI and Ch3+ app

Fragrance of the First Flower s2, Taiwanese, 18 February 2025, GagaOOLala ok this isn't that soon but I'm just so excited we're getting this second season after all!

As always, if I'm missing anything, please let me know!

[cokoweee]

COKO. Dude. This latest update- Holy MONKEY FEATHERS.

Let’s begin cause there’s a LOT TO COVER HEHEHEH~

Firstly

LOOK AT THIS MAN’S EXPRESSION. Just- FRIGGIN LOOK AT IT. He’s blushing, he’s tense, he’s confused and flattered and weirded out, and happy- This man don’t know what emotions are and he just got hit by a truck full of them.

And AGAIN- KENDRA IS COMPLETELY INEBRIATED- She will most likely not even REMEMBER THIS MOMENT- Will Donnie tell her? Will this be a hilarious story that causes an argument later down the lines in their marriage?

WHO KNOWS. 🤷‍♀️ And it DOESN’T END THERE-

Not ONLY is Donnie flying through the five stages of grief like a boss level mini game- but Kendra, even in her drunken state, noticed that Donnie had that dumb makeup on him to cover up his markings for the party. And she just- gently- caresses his cheek to wipe it off.

Yeah, Donnie’s gonna die from either too much happiness or being way too flustered. Either way-

Awwwwwwwwww 💜

NEXT.

Despite being completely paralyzed in fear love, Donnie’s gaze quickly makes its way to where Big Mama and Frida are. And what does he see that gives him this horrified of an expression?

OH- SHEEEELLLLLL NO.

So, like the reasonable turtle mutant Donnie is, he gingerly picks up Kendra and leaves the party.

Also can we just study this anatomy for a second cause GUYS- as an artist myself this kind of posing and proportions is NOT EASY TO DO. So-

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

WELL DONE, COKO!!!!!

Ok, so after they make their way back to their room, Donnie plops Kendra into bed. We’ve seen this before- he’s never gentle, literally throwing her and it’s absolutely hilariou-

… Expectation SUBVERSION- the SWEETEST I’ve ever seen. 🥹 Donnie’s being so gentle with her what the HECK DJFUJWVXMISUDHWBSUW I adore these two- they love each other so much- caring for each other despite their qualms and history- AAAAAA ITS SO GOOOOOOD!!!

And now that Kendra is safe and away from Big Mamas prying eyes, Donnie has time to ABSOLUTELY FREAK OUT.

THIS DUDE went from feeling nothing to feeling EVERYTHING. And we get to watch and die laughing at his expense~ *WHEEEEEEZE*

This dude is totally broken HAAAA

Alright- with emotions and feelings and imagination WAY TOO HIGH, Donnie tries to distract himself.

The comedy in this chapter is just top tier~ I was at work when I read it the first time, and I broke out laughing and wheezing. (So grateful I work alone HA)

And just when Donnie thinks he’s in the clear-

*Chaos Gremlin chortling sounds* Coko, you absolute GENIUS- HAHAHAHA- I love that you simply allow the audience to imagine what Donnie saw- No one needs to outright say it, we all just know. And it’s utterly hilarious.

Donnie’s never gonna recover from that brain poof- You can just see all of his brain cells and bad boy image DISSOLVE in an instant at such a sight. 🤣 HIS HAIR EVEN CURLED UP- HIS EYES ARE BUGGING OUT- HAHAHA THIS DUDE’S brain went from dead to running a marathon in a MILLISECOND.

Alright, I think this has gotten long enough, so I’ll stop there. 😅 Amazing work, Coko!!! I am VERY excited to see what happens next!

~ Melissa

AUUUGGHHH ill never tire of these asks pointing out the little things cause yall almost always get like 80% of the lil things i slap in updates

THANKS FOR SEEING MY EFFORT IN THAT PANEL! THAT ANATOMY WAS A BITCH.

While sketching the update I may have been watching some goofy shows and movies so influence from those was high. Figuring out ways to show without showing what was going on took longer than expected but HEY! YALL GOT THE IDEA SO SWAG.

If my shoulder stops hurting I might have the next update by morning. Im gettin a lil too excited for what’s next. Already picked an emoji for the next chapter thing

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello! I hope you're doing good

I saw your post the other day that you were accepting requests but I don't know if you still are, but if you are, I was wondering if we could get some Nolan Grayson content👉👈

Nolan Grayson NSFW alphabet

I was given the chance to write anything, so alphabet time. This is post season 2 Nolan, cuz hes my bbygirl, and I think hed be a better partner in general.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I don’t believe viltrumite culture really does aftercare. They sleep together to have offspring, or maybe as a dominance thing, but I can’t see them doing a lot of healthy kink stuff, or just cuddling afterwards. He probably did something akin to it with Debbie, but its only after leaving it all behind after season 1 and getting with you that he would start to see more importance in it, especially when you give him a lot of aftercare whenever you are in charge. Hes not the best at it yet, but he does try.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On his partner, Nolans favorite part would be any muscularity they have, or if you happen to have a beard. If you have neither then its his partners thighs and hands. On himself its his muscles, especially his torso and arms.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I hope you got a bucket, viltrumites get the kryptonian treatment in this house. Which means, theres so much cum. Nolan produces even more than Mark. Mostly because hes older and is in his “prime” if that makes sense. Unlike Mark though, Nolan doesn’t see the amount he makes as an annoyance, since hes still quite prideful. You do catch him puffing out his chest a little if you mentioned its something you find attractive though.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has always had fantasies of being dominated or defeated in battle, whereafter the enemy will have their way with him. He has never once acted on these fantasies, but now that he’s with you and has gotten a reality check he might little by little try to step out of his comfort zone. Has had a few fantasies of being defeated, captured, and made into some kind of trophy wife, think like Leia in the slave dress type situation.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Theres no way to know how old Nolan is, but its assumed hes thousands of years old. This doesn’t mean hes got a lot of experience, since like I mentioned before, I believe viltrumites only do it to reproduce or for dominance. Hes probably gotten more game on earth than most of his life up till that point, so theres things you’ll have to teach him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that puts you above him or has you pinning him in some way, especially loves any position where you choke him in some way, be it your hands or with your arm. When hes feeling more dominant himself you better except him to pull an amazonian position or something like that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nolan is serious in most situations, and the bedroom is the same, especially since part of him feels a little strange just doing it for fun like this. But also because Nolan thinks he has to pay attention and learn, to make up for his less stellar experiences in the past.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Nolan doesn’t shave any of the hair on his body, except for his beard to get his usual stache. Viltrumites I believe would take pride in their bodyhair. He does keep it neat and tidy though, kinda like a controlled chaos.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nolan doesn’t really know how to be way too romantic in the moment, since being in love without a purpose is still so new to him. He has his moments though, where he just kinda looks his partner in the eyes with the most love filled eyes. Saying it, is still difficult though.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)                                                                                                                                       

The normal amount for viltrumites his age, which I believe would be once a day or once every two days, just to keep themselves from backing up too much of it. up until recently hes probably mostly done it for his health, but after getting with you he starts to do it for fun.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Doing it in the suit, or just his cape for that matter.

Strength and power in general.

Blood kink, pain kink, what comes with fighting.

Sparring and training with his partner.

Powerplay

BDSM

Sensory deprivation

Asphyxiation and choking

Edging and overstimulation

Breeding (secretly, on him)

Roleplay (like the slave Leia and owner type roleplay. Getting this from him will be almost impossible though)

Dom/sub or master/slave

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nolan could honestly do it anywhere, he doesn’t have a preference. That comes with being his age and having an ego like viltrumites tend to do. Hes a preference for doing it on battlefields or wherever you guys spar though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Its not that hard to get Nolan going, but hes much better at containing it than Mark, but that’s more because of age and life experiences. The easiest way to get him going is to get his adrenaline up, so sparring or even outright fighting. That, or just jerking off somewhere nearby, cuz he will hear and smell it with ease.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Share. Nolan wouldn’t share himself or his partner with anybody, he is very possessive. Especially other viltrumites. It would be like putting to male hamsters together, one of them dies before its over.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Didn’t have much of a preference in the past since it wasn’t really anything he paid too much attention too. But with Debbie he preferred receiving, since it was the more “dominant” role. But with you he learns that he quite likes giving, he just has a hard time in the beginning getting on his knees below you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the situation, but most of the time its slow and hard. But if its after you guys have sparred or fought, its faster and even rougher. He loves when you treat him roughly too. But there are times where its more slow lovemaking than anything else.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Nolan doesn’t have anything against quickies, its just not his favorite. If you both are in the mood, sure he enjoys it, but he prefers when you guys can take your time. But this also stems from viltrumites having so much damn stamina that one quickie doesn’t even scratch the itch.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nolans for trying most things, even more dangerous stuff, unless you are vulnerable like a human or something else in that genre, he wouldn’t want to accidentally crush you with his thighs or anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

More stamina than you could imagine, you can’t even dream of keeping up unless you are a fellow viltrumite, like Allen, or some other species like that. Could probably go nonstop for days, if not a couple of weeks without having to slow down. In the end, even If you are a fellow viltrumite, you guys probably just stop more out of boredom or because you have other things to do than exhaustion.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t own toys, and doesn’t really see the purpose for the most part. Of course, he still has fantasies where they fit very well, but Nolan won’t admit it even if you can tell hes thought about it from his blush.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on his mood for the most part. If you guys are alone, I could see him getting handsy or mumbling the raunchiest of things. The type to “accidentally” rip your clothes just right, or his own clothes for that matter, just to show off a little. He loves when you tease him too, he’s just still very bad at waiting it out.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, even if you’ve somehow gotten him deep into subspace. He’s mainly grunts and groans, and he clenches his teeth a lot, meaning you’ll have to put something in his mouth. But if you do put something in his mouth, you might get some gasped moans and whimpers if you’re lucky.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has written multiple very successful adult novels under a penname when he lived on earth. One happens to be an extremely popular series based around his own most shameful (in his opinion) fantasies, involving a muscular warrior put under the boot of an even bigger and more muscular warrior. He’s not good at it, but Nolan likes to draw. It tends to mainly be doodles, but he’s surprisingly good at vehicles and landscapes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very big and thick, like, you are so lucky he turns out to like bottoming the most. How Debbie took it, you’ll never learn, but that woman deserves a damn medal. Both a grower and a shower, you think he’s big when he’s soft, you’ll be in for a surprise when he gets hard. Veiny and uncut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Its always been quite average for a viltrumite his age and position, meaning he was fine taking care of himself up until now. Now Nolan finds himself fumbling every now and then, because he feels like an uncontrollable animal at times with how much he wants it. Nolan is able to suppress it though, more for his own pride and dignity than anything else.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Nolan doesn’t really fall asleep afterwards on the regular, its only if you’ve really wrung his dry mentally, by for example putting him in subspace or similar. But its almost impossible to get him physically tired enough to sleep. He does like to cuddle afterwards, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

[dakotalover1]

imgonnagetyouback

Spencer Reid x Reader (Rossi's Daughter)

It’s almost effortless, the way Spencer and I toggle between being on and off. When we’re off, there’s never a question of him seeking out someone else—it’s just not who he is. For one, his casework keeps him impossibly occupied, and for another, we both know the truth: no one will ever hold him like I do. No one will ever unravel him the way I have.

People on the outside don’t get us, and I can’t blame them. To them, Spencer is the genius, the prodigy with his nose buried in books, his mind running laps around theirs. But they don’t see him the way I do. They don’t know the Spencer who can whisper something wickedly clever into my ear and leave me breathless. They don’t know the Spencer who catches me off guard with a smile that feels like a private joke. They’ll never know the man who’s sexy without trying, whose mystery keeps me coming back for more. He’s an enigma I can’t stop solving, even when I think I’ve got him figured out.

To the outside world, our relationship might look like a puzzle, fragmented and strange—one moment we’re deeply in sync, the next we’re distant like strangers. But that’s us. We’re chaos and calm, passion and hesitation, a bond that defies simple explanation.

And now, here we are again, side by side at the bar down the street from my dad’s house. My dad loves throwing these little celebrations for his team—a way to mark the end of grueling casework. This one was different, though. A two-week marathon of intensity, and now everyone’s unwinding. Normally, during one of these “off” phases, Spencer and I would fall into our usual rhythm: separate lives, no strings, letting the other disappear for a while. But this time, it’s different.

Two weeks ago, Spencer started to feel it—the shift between us, the deepening connection that neither of us could quite ignore anymore. And I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, too. I’ve been avoiding “serious” for so long, but with Spencer, it just feels...inevitable. Natural. That is, until he switches gears, pretending like we’re nothing more than casual, trying to convince himself we’re just a passing thing. But we both know the truth.

When it’s just the two of us, tangled in each other and the silence, it’s the only time he lets himself exhale. I feel it in the way his body relaxes, in the way he clings to the quiet, to me. I’m his sanctuary, his one moment of peace in a life full of chaos.

Spencer thinks I don’t notice the walls he’s built, but I do. I see through the guarded way he speaks, the way he tries to keep me at arm’s length. I know why he does it—his past, his losses. He’s afraid of getting too close, terrified of losing something he can’t bear to live without. And I understand. After all, his mother couldn’t always be there for him, and his father...well, we both know that story. Even with the team, with JJ and Morgan and the others, there’s still a part of him that longs for a different kind of connection. The kind he’s found in me.

But Spencer’s comfort in my presence—his reliance on me—has its limits. He’s gotten a little too used to the idea that I’ll always be here, waiting, and it’s started to test me. I know he feels safe with me, and I love that, but there’s a part of me that wonders how long I can keep waiting for him to realize what we have. How long before he stops pretending and lets me in completely.

Because no matter how much he tries to deny it, no one will ever know him like I do. And no one will ever love him the way I can.

I’m seated at a high-top table with the girls, laughing at whatever joke JJ just cracked, but my focus keeps slipping. I can feel Spencer’s eyes on me from across the room. He’s standing at the bar with Morgan, but it’s like his attention is tethered to me, no matter where I go. That smirk—half knowing, half teasing—has been plastered on his face since I walked in.

And why wouldn’t it be? I’m wearing a tiny skirt in his favorite shade (of course, that wasn’t an accident) and a sheer white top that offers just a peek of the delicate lace beneath. It’s the kind of outfit that drives Spencer crazy because it’s equal parts sweet and sinful. He says he doesn’t want me, but we both know better. I know better.

So, I am sitting at a little hightop table with the girls, and I can feel Spencer's eyes and smirk pointing my way from the bar he's standing at with Morgan. I'm wearing a tiny little skirt that's his favorite color (obviously on purpose), and a sheer white top that you can slightly see my lacy bralette through. You know when you just know a guy still wants you even after he says he doesn't? Yeah that's the feeling I'm getting, I know Spencer better than anyone, and that man wants me.

Normally, I’d be smug that we’re back to normal, him undressing me with his eyes while pretending we’re just friends. However, I haven't decided if I want to curse him out or take him back to my house. I think tonight, if Spencer wants me back, he's going to have to earn it.

“I think Spence is going to combust if you don’t go over there and give him some attention,” JJ teases, her voice low but full of amusement.

The table bursts into laughter, and I lean back, swirling my drink with a smirk. “Oh, he’s going to have to do a lot better than those puppy-dog eyes tonight. I’m not giving in so easily.”

“Really?” Emily chimes in, raising an eyebrow. “Because it looks like you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger already. You’re going to make him suffer, aren’t you?”

I flash a wicked smile. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just make him think I’m moving on. ‘I could be someone’s wife,’” I say dramatically, quoting the line from my head and earning more laughs from the girls. “He doesn’t get to string me along and expect me to be waiting for him whenever he’s done overthinking everything.”

Penelope, ever the romantic, sighs dramatically. “But the tension between you two? It’s chef’s kiss. And that man looks like he’d follow you anywhere if you so much as crooked your finger.”

I shrug, feigning indifference, but the truth is, I’m soaking it all in. Emily nudges me, her voice taking on a playful edge. “Well, if you’re serious about giving him a hard time, you better brace yourself, because lover boy is on his way over.”

Spencer walked up to the table and waved to the ladies, and then leaned in to whisper in your ear, "You look good tonight". You seductively smirked and grabbed his jaw line with your hand pulling his ear to your mouth. As he smirks, you whisper back, "I know". His expression changes to one of confusion, as you would usually compliment him back, but instead you drop your hand and get up. "Pen, do you want to go to the ladies room with me?", her head perks up as she pretends to not have been watching that entire interaction and replies, "Oh! Yes of course, no fabulous female should ever venture too far alone!".

I brush past Spencer, my shoulder grazing his arm, but I don’t spare him a glance. I can feel his eyes following me as I walk away, his confusion and frustration practically burning holes into my back.

Let him stew. If Spencer wants me, he’ll have to work for it.

When Penelope and I return to the table, I don’t look in Spencer’s direction, even though I know he’s still watching me. Instead, I slide into my chair with a bright smile, joining the girls in laughter like nothing’s out of the ordinary.

Across the room, my dad, Rossi, catches my eye. He’s holding court at the bar, recounting one of his famous stories to a group of agents, his glass of scotch in hand. With a quick glance at the table, I lean over to JJ. “Be right back,” I say, standing up and making my way to him.

Rossi spots me approaching and pauses mid-story, a smile spreading across his face. “Ah, there’s my favorite critic,” he says, wrapping an arm around me as I step into his side.

“Favorite? Am I your only critic, Dad?” I tease, stealing the olive from his drink and popping it into my mouth.

“Probably,” he replies with a chuckle. “But you keep me honest.”

The agents around him disperse, leaving us a moment of quiet. He glances back at the table where the team is gathered and then back at me, his expression softening. “You seem...distracted tonight. Something on your mind?”

I shrug, playing it off. “No, not really. Just the usual chaos.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives me a knowing look, the kind only a father can master. “Let me guess. It has something to do with our resident genius over there?”

I sigh, leaning against the bar. “Does it have to be that obvious?”

“To me? Yes.” He takes a sip of his drink, his tone turning serious. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but...whatever’s going on between you two, make sure it’s something you’re happy with. Don’t settle for less than you deserve.”

His words hit a little too close to home, and I nod, unable to meet his gaze. “I know, Dad. I’m not settling.”

He studies me for a moment, then smiles softly. “Good. You’re my daughter. You’ve got Rossi standards to uphold, after all.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Damn right.” He winks before turning back to his drink. “Go on, sweetheart. Don’t let me keep you from the party.”

With a quick kiss on his cheek, I leave him at the bar and head back to the table, but my focus isn’t on the girls anymore. It’s on Spencer, who’s still standing with Morgan, but his attention is locked on me.

I make my way back to the table, but my seat feels too far from the real reason I came back. I can feel Spencer’s eyes tracking my every move, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking his way. I sit down with the girls, pretending to be fully engrossed in Penelope’s animated story about her latest tech snafu.

But then I hear his voice, low and soft, behind me.

“Can we talk?”

The girls exchange subtle glances, but no one says a word. I don’t look at him right away. Instead, I take a deliberate sip of my drink and lean back in my chair, looking up at him with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

“Talk? Now that’s new for us,” I say, the words laced with a teasing edge.

Spencer doesn’t smile. His gaze is steady, and there’s something vulnerable behind his usual composure. “Please,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now.

JJ gives me a little nudge under the table, and Penelope wiggles her eyebrows dramatically. I sigh, pushing back my chair and standing up. “Fine,” I say, brushing past him as I head toward the quieter side of the bar.

He follows, and the sound of his footsteps feels louder than the music in the background. I stop near a corner booth and turn to face him, crossing my arms.

“What do you want, Spencer?”

He hesitates, shifting from one foot to the other like he’s trying to decide where to start. “I... I don’t know,” he admits finally. “I just—”

“You don’t know?” I interrupt, my tone sharper than I intended. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you know exactly what you’re doing. You push me away, pull me back, and then act like I’m the one who can’t figure it out.”

His jaw tightens, and I see the flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not like that,” he says, his voice a little firmer. “It’s—complicated.”

“Oh, complicated,” I say with a sarcastic laugh, stepping closer to him. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Spence. Because I’m tired of complicated.”

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, and then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I’ve been... difficult. And I don’t mean to be. It’s just—”

“Spit it out,” I challenge, my voice softer now but still edged with impatience.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he steps closer, closing the space between us. “I’m scared,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I tilt my head, meeting his gaze. “Scared of what?”

“Of this,” he says, gesturing between us. “Of how easy it is to be with you. Of how much I... need you.” His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away, as though the admission costs him more than he expected. “And I’m scared of losing it. Losing you.”

For a moment, I don’t say anything. I just look at him, the way his shoulders slump like he’s carrying more than his share of the weight. And as much as I want to stay mad, my resolve starts to crack.

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” I say finally, my voice softer now.

He looks at me again, and the vulnerability in his eyes is almost too much to bear. “I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, at... us. But I want to be.”

There it is. The honesty I’ve been waiting for.

I take a step closer, reaching out to gently tug at his tie. “You’re not getting off that easy, Dr. Reid,” I say with a small smirk. “If you want me, you’re going to have to prove it.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but there’s still that seriousness in his eyes. “I will,” he says, his voice steady. “If you’ll let me.”

I let go of his tie, my fingers brushing against chest, "Show me"

Spencer doesn’t move, and neither do I. The space between us feels charged, electric, like the air before a storm. My fingers linger just above his tie, not touching him but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his chest.

“Show me,” I say again, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes drop to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again. “You don’t make it easy, you know that?”

“Why should I?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve made me work for every ounce of your attention, Spence. Maybe it’s time you see how it feels.”

His jaw tightens, but his lips curve into the smallest of smirks. “Fair enough,” he murmurs. Then, his voice drops, low and velvety. “But don’t forget, I’m a quick learner.”

The heat between us builds, and I can feel my pulse quickening. His confidence—subtle, restrained—is maddening, and yet I can’t look away.

“You talk a big game,” I say, tilting my head slightly, “but I’m not convinced yet.”

“Not convinced?” He steps closer, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are now. His hand brushes against mine, deliberate but fleeting, and the touch sends a jolt up my spine. “Tell me, what would it take to convince you?”

The corner of my mouth curves upward, a dangerous smile playing on my lips. "I'm sure you'll figure something out."

I take my hands off of him, a slow, deliberate motion, as I turn to walk away, the air thick with the tension between us. But just as I make my move, his grip tightens on my arm, pulling me back with a force that leaves me breathless. Before I can fully process what’s happening, his body presses against mine, his lips capturing mine in a kiss so intense it steals the air from my lungs. The heat between us ignites instantly, the world around us fading as his kiss deepens, claiming me in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

He's definitely got me back.

[403tarot]

WONBIN HARD HOURS

i want him so bad i'll kms. disclaimer: reading based on what he currently likes, which can change. tarot is a game, take it lightly.

well, where should i start... he has a dark side. from the moment he enters the room he assumes a totally different posture.

he likes rough, sweaty sex with A LOT of mind game dynamics. a partner willing to jump on the bandwagon with him is someone he will treat like a winning ticket.

he can be cruel in words. wonbin uses and abuses his resting bitch face and likes to arouse some fear due to his seriousness.

i'd say wonbin is a dom for sure, and not one of those soft ones. he enjoys being in the mood of chaos, adrenaline, and fear swirling in the room... like in a predator and prey game.

enjoys mistreating and playing with his prey before eating. he's the kind who grabs by the hair, drags to the middle of the room and makes you kneel to suck him because he wants to see you pathetically kneeling on the ground giving him pleasure.

dacryphilia, he gets pleasure by seeing his partner's eyes with tears while their mouth is full of cock. "oh, can't take it anymore? i thought you wanted this."

he likes to spit and WILL do it if he gets the chance. in the face.

he's into shorter and physically smaller girls than him, (really) big boobs and an innocent appearance to feel like he's going to corrupt them. wonbin likes manhandling so he can treat as if they were just his little doll.

he likes deep kisses that start calmly but wonbin quickly loses control, pulling them by the waist, pressing his body against theirs and then rubbing his dick against them so that they feel how obedient girls makes him so hard.

wonbin is very possessive and enjoys marking, whether by gripping his partner's hips or moving his mouth to their neck. he likes to lick, kiss, and bite the skin, using his teeth to pull, and if his girl have issues with being marked by his teeth for everyone to see, he doesn't care. in that moment, she belongs to him and him only.

"what a pathetic useless hole you are"

he likes controlling his partner's orgasm and uses it as a form of torture. he teases enough until the limit, and if the partner climaxes without his permission, he continues with overstimulation until they beg because they can't take it anymore.

he likes anal, so if his partner allows it... but his dick is above average, so i wouldn't risk it (lol).

wonbin might enjoy when they resist him, ask him to let them go, try to escape... and he might even let them almost get away just to have the fun of dragging them back to him again... by their hair.

he likes being rough, seeing his partner's eyes rolling and hearing screams that blur the line between pain and pleasure, confusing all senses.

LOVES dry humping and fantasizes about a naked girl rubbing herself against his clothed bulge until he cums and makes a mess.

breeding; "i'll fuck a baby into you so you'll remember what a pathetic whore you are and who you belong to"

[storiesabouteli]

Amid Cares. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

prompt: You are sick (kidney crisis) and Eli stays with you! Dealing with the fact that you're used to not needing anyone, and Eli will have to handle that.

words: 2,3k.

Eli slept with his mouth slightly open. He didn’t snore, but made a soft, comforting whistling sound. You wrapped your arms around his torso, wishing the pain would just fade away. Before falling asleep, you had told Eli you weren’t feeling well. He nodded, suggesting you could eat in the morning. You didn’t like worrying him, yet you liked how concerned he became for you. His brows furrowed, and he had this gentle look—it was kind of funny. “Do you want me to make something else for you?” He ran his hand over your shoulders, which were indeed warm, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed earlier.

You had a sandwich he’d made sitting in front of you, but it felt impossible to eat, even if you wanted to. You stared at the pastel-colored plate, biting your lip, reminding yourself it hadn’t even been a week since you moved in together, and there you were, already about to mark this moment with chaos. “I’m just tired, I need to sleep, El.” He nodded, eyeing you like someone watching a child tell a lie. You didn’t catch much of what he said—couldn’t really string the words together—but he handed you a painkiller and lay down next to you.

The room was dark, his faint post-shower scent lingered, his arm was wrapped around you while your face was buried in his chest. It felt therapeutic, like it might work. Then, minutes later, you were staring into the void, trying to convince yourself the pain would ease, though it was only getting worse. Eli’s dark circles were more noticeable than usual (he never actually had them), and he usually fell asleep fast, yet he spent the night massaging your back and kissing your forehead until you finally dozed off and he could do the same. It was unfair.

“El,” you sighed deeply; moving your body felt like a chore. You cupped his face, looking at him, repeating his name with a heavy chest. “El, babe, I think I need to see a doctor.” Your weak, cracked voice made him open his eyes quickly. His hands moved through your hair, then down your back.

He was groggy, his curls slightly undone. You were hotter than before, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he whispered, sitting up with you still pressed against his chest. He paused, expecting a little laugh from you, but it didn’t come. You shivered from the cold, wondering if he noticed just how much you avoided causing trouble. “El,” you weren’t sure if you were going to answer—your body felt limp, like a silent cry for help. His lips touched your forehead, and he gently laid you down on the pillow, chuckling softly in solidarity, making you believe everything would be okay.

He knew how much you hated hospitals—more than most people—and it triggered a quiet discomfort in him. “It’s all good, huh? I’ll grab a coat for you, and we’ll go.” You nodded, feeling his lips warm against your skin too. He moved calmly around the room, which was usual compared to you. Well, on closer look, he wasn’t exactly calm; he just didn’t want to make you panic, and it was working. You were feeling less anxious, not imagining worst-case scenarios.

He opened the wardrobe, knowing exactly where you’d placed your documents, and grabbed what was needed. You found it endearing that he remembered, especially since the house was still new for both of you. Despite your back feeling like it was falling apart, you smiled at him, even if just a little.

…

Eli walked with you to the car and made you comfortable in the seat, at least as much as possible. He turned on the radio, just random people talking, but it gave you new things to focus on. It was a quick trip, every now and then, you could feel his eyes on you; still, you didn't speak or open your eyes. The sound helped, although it was becoming hard to ease your pain. "El, it hurts a lot." He heard your words come out cold; your intention was to verbalize it, as if saying it out loud would make it pass.

He pressed his hand against your abdomen; his touch was comforting, and the warmth of his body felt good. Your head settled better against the pillow, and you realized you had lost track of time. You were aware of how you got there; you just couldn't clearly recall each step in your mind. Tears welled up in your eyes, panic leaving Eli a bit breathless.

"Shh, babe. It’s not going to be anything serious, you’ll see, right? They’ll medicate you, check that it’s nothing serious, and soon we’ll be home." He looked pale, but his voice was steady. You wonder if Eli would be good with kids? He wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, and even though your head hurt too, nothing seemed to improve, despite the adrenaline.

Eli ended up sitting beside you, resting his cheek on your belly, holding your hand, and gazing at your face. His thumb traced patterns on your skin, every now and then, he rubbed his face against you. You heard him sigh, a slight exchange of smiles; honestly, panicking only made it worse. Having Eli there, working hard to provide new stimuli for your brain and giving a gentle nudge to your stubborn neurons, was helping a lot.

You placed your hand on his head, weaving your fingers through his curls, which made him close his eyes, until a nurse entered the room, asking about your condition and pain level. You answered modestly, and Eli let out a breath of denial. "It hurts more than that; it started last night. The ibuprofen from yesterday didn’t last two hours; it just kept escalating ‘til it became unbearable." His voice sounded hoarse, tired yet alert. He glanced at his phone, and you smiled through a moan, noticing he had written down the time you took your last dose and when you would need to take it again. The nurse laughed too, thanking him.

"Sure," she said, glancing between you and Eli with a friendly expression. "What exactly are you feeling? Did it come on suddenly?" She continued, mentioning that she’d be back with some medication in a few minutes. You took a deep breath, briefly meeting her eyes before turning to Eli, who was holding your hand. You hadn’t expected it to escalate this much, but you knew what it was—and that you’d have to admit you'd been neglecting it a little. No excuses, you had just prioritized other things.

The silence was short, but in those few moments, despite her caution, you felt judged, as if your own thoughts were weighing you down. You felt guilty for not telling Eli sooner. You hadn’t wanted to burden him; he had his own life. "Do you want some space? I can wait in the hallway," he offered gently. You shook your head, his calm gaze steady on you. You didn’t want him to leave.

"The pain is in my lower back," you said, starting to sit up before she could help. Eli was quicker, steadying you himself. "I’ve had a lot of cramping, abdominal pain too, nausea, and I’ve been urinating frequently." Your eyes lingered on Eli’s hands, still interlaced with yours, his thumb moving in soothing circles. He didn’t know everything, but maybe he should have—he always asked, after all.

"Is this the first time?" she asked, preparing the needle. You turned your face into Eli's sweater, not wanting to watch. He kissed the top of your head, his touch as gentle as ever, without a trace of anger. "No," you sighed. "Well, maybe not this bad before. But now, it really hurts. I should’ve taken better care..."

"Yeah," she said, honestly. "Do you think it's a kidney issue?" she ventured, though it was already clear that it likely was, though understandable that it could have been something else. You nodded, "I’ve been growing a few stones." You stayed still as Eli’s broad fingers gently traced your arms. You had found out about this months ago—it was something you should have shared, something he would have shared with you. Now, it felt like a lie you’d been keeping.

The nurse gave you a light scolding, which you accepted as deserved, and Eli chuckled, promising to keep an eye on you. Since you hadn’t updated anyone on your condition recently, they said you’d need to stay under observation for a while. She left the room with the clipboard, and Eli answered a few more personal details about you. For some reason, that made you smile at nothing in particular. The medication was finally kicking in.

When the door clicked shut, you closed your eyes for a moment. Eli's hand rested on your abdomen, his lips pressed light, repetitive kisses to your forehead until a small smile broke through your discomfort. "Still hurting, poppy?" His voice was cautious, eyes slightly watery, the tip of his nose red. He wasn’t crying—maybe he was sad—but mostly, he looked exhausted. "No," you whispered, a little afraid of what would come next. You couldn’t meet his gaze.

"Are you tired?" His fingers brushed your cheek, and he noticed you weren’t warm anymore, visibly relieved. You felt the weight lift off his shoulders. "Kind of, but the pain is finally going away." He nodded. His expression was unreadable, but you felt an obligation to look at him, to talk about it, though you knew he would bring it up later.

"I'm sorry, I feel like a liar." Your eyes filled with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. "You just kept it to yourself. I wish you’d told me. I would’ve taken care of you, given you support, you know?" He wasn't angry, and you knew he’d always be there for you, but the feeling was strange nonetheless.

"I can handle this on my own. It’s not something you need to worry about, El." Your words came out bitter, but they flowed naturally. This was how you usually were. Eli had gotten used to it, knowing it would take time for you to open up that side of yourself. He gave a small smile, and you figured he wasn’t mad because he was still so close to you, both in presence and touch.

"I didn’t mean for it to come out that way..." you added, but he squeezed your hand, signaling that he understood. "I know you can handle things on your own, but I don’t want you to have to. I don’t really get why you try so hard not to need me, like you’re some kind of burden. The thing is," he paused, swallowing to get rid of the lump in his throat. His words were steady, even as he took a few heavier breaths, "I’m here because I want to be, whether you like it or not," he smiled, and you laughed, following the light in his eyes. "You’re not a burden at all, I’d do it all over again."

You took his words in, studying his face softly. "You need to remind me to drink water; it’s not as simple as it seems." He laughed quietly, the sound filling the room with warmth. He assured you he would.

Your body felt more relaxed now, both from what Eli had said and the effect of the medication. Sleep was creeping in, fatigue from the discomfort finally catching up. The bed was spacious, and you didn’t expect it, but Eli sat beside you, awkwardly positioning himself next to you and wrapping his arm around you to make sure you were comfortable.

"Are you staying the night?" you asked, his chest vibrating comfortingly against you. He nodded, as if it were obvious to him, though not as much to you. "Shouldn’t you tell the guys you won’t be there tomorrow?" You lifted yourself a little to look at him, a sudden mental reminder popping up. He simply guided your head back to his shoulder, stroking your hair.

"I told them before you fell asleep at home. I wasn’t planning on going," he murmured. Knowing you were his priority made your body tingle, but not in a bad way. It was unfamiliar, but good. Hearing him refer to your place as "home" made you happy.

You nestled closer to him, your hand slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his waist as he held you tightly. "I’m glad you’re here, El." Speaking it aloud was your way of letting him know how much you appreciated everything, even if it seemed normal to him. And Eli knew you needed someone there—the way you gripped his hand, the fearful look in your eyes. He had heard your stories, learned about your discomfort in these settings. He could easily picture you waking up in a few hours, each test making your mind jump to new conclusions about your condition. He wanted to be there for you, and he would be.

"It’s fine, but just to be clear, I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to." You chuckled, your mind growing calm as his fingers worked their way into your hair. This time, it was the steady hum of your body that made him feel more grounded.

[pixie-felix]

Last message for the night I promise. I'm so sorry for blowing up your inbox ;-; If this is bad I sincerely apologize. More better thoughts will come in the future

Dom!Innie: He may be the maknae and he def has a noona kink, but he likes taking care of you (as seen in previous conversations. It's giving service/soft dom. Turning off both your phones because you don't need that right now? Treating you to extra orgasms because you had a hard day/week?) He loves making you smile whether that means gifting you that dress you had your eye on or getting the dorm to himself for an at-home date. He does love having things to himself and that includes you most of the time. You're his sweet loving noona so it's unlikely you'll have to endure punishments. He's not one for edging, but thrives off your pleasure so he'd more likely be into overstimming you (he's confident you can give him one more). It fills him with pride that he can make you cum that many times, that he knows just what makes your legs shake, that you let him mark you up to his heart's content. He takes aftercare notes from you and you're the main person he enjoys skinship from so on long nights be ready for cuddles, kisses, and falling asleep with one arm around your waist locking you in place as the other traces your back.

--🍭

First of all, spam me. Spam me all day, every day, as much as you want. Every time I see your emoji in my inbox I do a little happy dance (very cool, I know) and find a quiet corner to huddle over my phone like some kind of smut goblin.

Secondly. You have never had a bad idea in your life. Stop such nonsense thinking. Or, just put your insecurities in my ask box so I can BEAT THEM OUT OF YOU WITH LOVE AND ENTHUSIASM BECAUSE YOU'RE BRAIN IS GREAT AND EVERYONE WHO IS COOL AGREES.

That was a little intense, I apologise. Threats of violence are my love language 🫶

Okay, so I've had this Innie headcanon in my brain for a while, waiting for the right moment to crawl out through my keyboard and into the wilds of Tumblr.

So, it seems in these scenarios we're making, we're basically poly with all of skz, right? The ballbusting one is my favourite so far. That is taking me places.

You remember how Innie (fuck it, I might start calling him Ayen too, that's such a pretty spelling, and it's accurate, I'm going off topic, shit) is your kiss and don't tell boy?

Well, there's one accidental exception to that rule.

Much like how Felix and Innie discovered about ballbusting because hyung line were discussing it?

Well, drunk!hyung line were discussing the inaccuracies of porn, and Innie isn't really listening because he's beating Lixxie at uno. So when a currently unidentified hyung starts bemoaning squirting as something that never happens in real life, I.N doesn't think twice before going "What are you talking about? Noona does that every time."

BOOM. ACCIDENTAL MIC DROP.

Chaos ensues. All the hyungs are pestering, nay, hounding Innie for the deets. Trying to figure out exactly. What. It. Is. that Innie does that causes the mythical squirting happen.

Felix is having a minor uno based breakdown, but tomorrow when he remembers the kerfuffle he might be brave and ask Innie about it. After all, they shared their first ballbusting together. That forms a bond, right?

Of course, Innie tells them nothing. And makes a point of never being around drunk!hyung line when they're discussing anything sexual henceforth.

Chan/Changbin/Hyunjin (+Han) are going to be going mad trying to figure it out. Hyunjin is definitely going to start "accidentally" walking in on you and the maknae a lot. Heck, maybe Chan will too. Suddenly, they're all doing your laundry for you, buying you silly little gifts, any little excuse to come into your room urgently.

Han: LOOK NOONA I BOUGHT YOU A CACTUS THEY'RE SO CUTE DON'T YOU LOVE HIM!? 🥰🥰🥰 (I feel like I read this in a fic or an smau, I'll see if I can find it to link up but yes hello if this is your fic/smau I've taken the idea from pls let me know so I can credit u 🫶)

Chan: Hey love, I tumble dried your pajamas. They're still warm so if you put them on now, you can be all cozy 🥰 Oh, hi Jeongin. Fancy seeing you here. Well, now that noona is getting undressed, who's up for a quick three way?

Changbin: I made you a protein shake now please may I bench press you 💪🙏🥰

Hyunjin: *bursts in* YANG JEONGIN YOUR SECRETS WILL BE MINE HOW DOES SQUIRTING WORK TELL ME NOW OR I'M GOING TO WALK INTO TRAFFIC

Lino "doesn't care". But he does start paying more attention to how you and Innie interact on a daily basis. For completely unrelated reasons of course.

Seungmin actually doesn't care. Because Seungmin is full of his own secrets... 👀 And because he's careful to never be around drunk!hyung line when they're horny. (I feel like there is a backstory as to why he avoids his drunk horny hyungs, but I currently have nothing for that.)

[mercuriians]

say what you want

synopsis ☆ you're forced to confront your feelings for aomine when your plans go wrong at a party.

content info — angst to fluff, some hurt/comfort, fem! reader, mutual pining (reader & aomine are both idiots), little bit suggestive at the end. also, as a WARNING, this work contains references to underage drinking so if that makes you uncomfortable then please don't read this.

word count — 3.1k words.

author's note — first full knb fic i've written!! yeahhh i got carried away so oops. wasn't really sure how to end it but i hope it's alright either way. while i was writing this fic i was listening to take a chance with me and lowkey by NIKI, so if you want to feel the vibes of the story then u should listen to those songs, they're amazing i promise. hope u guys enjoy!!

"you know, ahomine, this entire thing was your fault."

you aim for your words to be sharp, accusatory, and scathing, filled with the type of poison that conveys just how irritated you felt at the moment; they’re intended to withdraw some kind—any kind, actually, since it’s aomine you’re talking to—of guilt or acknowledgement from the boy, or at the very least a sign that yes, he was the one who deserved the blame, and every ounce of it too.

however your objective falls short, and there’s a thought that irritatingly lingers at the back of your unusually sluggish mind: that, really, you weren’t exactly free from fault either. but it isn’t like you want to admit that because even the boy next to you knows the extent of your obstinacy and pride.

it’s a shame, and it’s quite ironic too, that your words are ultimately what betray your integrity. the way they come out breathless, slightly slurred, and definitely nowhere near scathing says more than enough.

earlier, you might have drunk a bit more than you were supposed to.

but to be fair, it was kise's seventeenth birthday. knowing how passionate he became whenever the subject was about parties or having fun or legitimately just having the spotlight on himself, the celebration turned out to be rather wild, to say the least. though when you had all five—technically six—members of the miracle generation gathered in the same area, as well as some of their respective teammates, the pandemonium was likely the only thing you could even anticipate. besides the heavy stench of testosterone of course.

see, your original plan was to spend the night quietly spectating the crowd. you never really liked parties, and you never really liked all the chaos that it brought. what you did like, though, was watching that same chaos unfold before your eyes. you even prepared your childhood friend to be by your side when it all went down, with his fluffy baby blue hair and his innocent, perceptive gaze never straying too far from where number two sat contentedly, playing with a rubber ball.

"how long do you think it'll take before kagami and aomine get into a brawl?" you had mused, hiding your amused grin behind your hand as you watched the two basketball players get into an argument over what the next song would be.

all the while, you hoped that kuroko didn’t see the way your eyes dipped towards the area of skin that aomine’s shirt haphazardly left exposed.

luckily he didn’t seem to notice. either that or—this was more likely—he was kind enough not to comment.

"ten minutes." kuroko had stated bluntly, answering your question. as it turns out, he wasn't far off from the mark.

so, for the first half of the party, your plan worked. you sat by the corner, languidly drinking from your cup of apple juice while you chatted with kuroko about anything that came into your mind. everything was fine, things were going well on your part, and at some point, you even sang along to the cheesy pop music that the speakers blasted.

most of all, you managed to avoid aomine.

but to put it frankly, shit hit the fan the moment the clock hit eleven. a bit surprisingly, the instigator wasn’t aomine, or takao, or even the golden birthday boy himself. no, it was sweet, exuberant momoi.

looking back on it, maybe your surprise was unreasonable. this was the same girl who could make eerily accurate predictions simply based off the statistics she collected from the court, and with you being a basketball player yourself, you knew just how scheming momoi could be when she really wanted to. that, and the fact that she happened to be another one of your childhood friends.

yeah, you probably should have realized that she was plotting something.

yet the realization never dawned on you. not when she offered you three consecutive cups of sake and claimed that “it’s to help you loosen up!”, not when she managed to pull you away from kuroko, not when she proposed the stupidly cliche spin the bottle game, and definitely not when she forced aomine to sit directly across from where you were.

after watching a few hilarious and awkward rounds, it was only inevitable for you to be the one spinning the bottle, and it was only inevitable for the damned thing to land on the one boy you were hoping to skip. and no, not because you hated him, but precisely because you simply couldn’t. it was impossible to not like aomine, even with his laziness, arrogance, perversion, and occasional playboyish tendencies. the truth was that behind every flaw of his, there were just as many positives, whether it was his obstinate loyalty or his unwavering honesty or his genuine respect for those who earned it.

so no one could blame you for the way your breath caught in your throat when aomine held your gaze and when he eventually began to make his way over. “this okay with you?” he asked nonchalantly as if this was a light, casual matter, and as if he didn’t care at all. yet, there was a slight, barely noticeable tightness in his navy gaze. had you not known him for years now, you likely wouldn’t have picked up on that small detail.

but as small as it was, really, it was anything but. and with your heart beating just a bit faster, you knew exactly why.

you nodded your head wordlessly, your lips parting, your eyes meeting his, and your message being spoken and understood through that eye contact alone. aomine leaned in, and you closed your eyes.

his lips were chapped, and his hand felt rough and calloused against your skin, but you felt a trail of fire prickling through your body anyway. quicker than you would have liked to admit, you found yourself falling deeper. you hoped, for a brief, flickering moment, that aomine felt the same. maybe, within his mind, there were thoughts of you.

swirls of past memories, like when you two would play basketball together, sweat dripping down your faces, soaking the fabric of your clothes as you focused on not letting him score; fragments of the future, like what it would be like to attend college together; and wishes for the present moment, like maybe how he wanted you to be his, just as you've wanted him to be yours since the last year of junior high.

you pulled aomine in closer, fingers digging into his collar. the logical part of your mind shrieked, voice raising in volume the longer you pressed your body against his, but you shut the thoughts out.

very, very vaguely, it occurred to you that the alcohol made your heart beat faster, made your spirit burn recklessly in a way that you hadn't known before.

for better or for worse, aomine noticed too.

and the moment you regained all sense of control, you realized that you no longer felt the weight of his body, or the warmth of his lips. bright lights flooded your vision as you opened your eyes. aomine stood a foot or two away, his shirt a bit crumpled from where you had gripped the fabric.

there was a certain kind of look on his face, but the problem was that you were unable to decipher it. this was the first time you couldn't read him.

fear settled into your bones.

had you just ruined everything between the two of you? not just the chances of ever dating him, but your friendship as well? should you have kissed him in the first place? what kind of person did he think you were now?

what had you done wrong, and why did you ever even accept those drinks from satsuki?

suddenly the room was full of too many people, and there were too many sounds and the lights were starting to blind you and damn it you couldn't even hear yourself think. in the heat of panic, you found yourself running, murmuring mindless apologies to whoever you almost crashed into.

you didn't stop until you reached kise's balcony. it was small, barely enough for three people to fit in, but the fact that you were able to taste the crisp june night air was enough.

unfortunately, it turned out that you only had a few minutes to spend alone with your thoughts. before long, the sound of the glass door sliding open disrupted the silence. you closed your eyes, praying to whatever was above that it wasn't the one person you wanted to avoid.

"wow, you really don't want to talk to me, huh?" a gruff, low voice dryly remarked. well, shit.

your eyes flew open. "i—uh, aomine," you cleared your throat hastily, "what did i.. did i say that out loud?"

"sure did," he confirmed. you heard him walking towards you before you saw him slide into the narrow space on your left. cautiously, you snuck a glance; his expression seemed to be unbothered, but knowing what happened ten minutes ago, you wouldn't risk a bet on it.

his eyes met yours. "you've been acting off," he remarked.

you refrained from rolling your eyes, like it wasn't already clear enough. "yeah, well, the sake that satsuki gave me was.. um, expired." you lied, and quite messily too. "made my stomach feel weird."

"she made me check the expiration date before her mom bought it," aomine deadpanned, and for the umpteenth time that night you wished that the floor was kind enough to swallow you whole. "and your stomach seems fine to me."

"well you wouldn't know that," you shot back, somewhat angrily. "and why did—how did satsuki even get her mom to buy alcohol in the first place?"

"her mom was the one who suggested it," aomine shrugged. despite the twinge of surprise that you felt—you weren't exactly sure if an adult was allowed to buy alcohol for seventeen-year-olds—it was quickly washed away and forgotten, overshadowed by the look that the boy suddenly gave you.

"so, are we gonna keep dodging the topic or what?"

your shoulders sagged, your arms crossing over your chest instinctively. "what is there to talk about?" you muttered.

"look, between the two of us, you're definitely the smarter one," aomine stated bluntly. "so quit actin' like you don't know what happened back there, (name)."

a heavy sigh escaped from your lips, frustration welling up within your chest all over again. you found it quite difficult to even breathe at the moment. "i don't want to do this right now," you stated. "so please just leave and we can pretend like—"

"that's the problem right there," aomine interrupts, an unprecedented twinge of emotion filling his voice. it was anger and frustration akin to yours, yes, but there was something else—something that you could reluctantly guess stemmed from a place that he'd kept hidden until now. "you keep avoiding me like i'm the damn plague or something. i didn't even do anything wrong, and if you feel like i did, then i can't do anything about it because you're not telling me shit."

and that right there brings you to the present moment, the buildup to the storm that's about to wreak havoc and tear up the land.

"you know, ahomine, this entire thing was your fault." you hiss, every ounce of your feelings pouring out without abandon. it's messy, it's unorganized, and it's raw; maybe none of it even makes sense, or maybe all of it does. you don't bother trying to wrap your head around it because there's no use in doing so.

for once, you don't think, and you let your words spill out like water from a broken faucet.

"it's your fault because you made me feel this way about you, even though you're one of the laziest, rudest, and most obnoxious people i know, not to mention that you read those perverted magazines. but you're also one of the most loyal and genuine, and i know that you would never lie. not on the court, and not outside of it, either. and that just—a-all of it frustrates and confuses me because we're polar opposites. you say whatever's on your mind, and you don't care about what people think about it. i can't do that."

you take a moment to breathe, to slow down, and to collect your scrambled train of thought. "i think that's why i don't tell you things like this. i'm probably drunk right now, but i think you want someone who's as unafraid as you are, someone who takes charge of the situation instead of being in the background. the only time i can be bold is when i play basketball. because then it's just—"

"just you, the ball, and the person in front of you," aomine finishes. surprisingly, his tone is soft, even understanding, and you look up to meet his gaze. "i know how that feels."

"it's like nothing else matters when you're on the court," you whispers, and the boy next to you nods. "all of it is simple. it's nothing like having to deal with your emotions, and having to understand them."

"you're right about that," aomine agrees. there are a few, shocking beats of silence that ensue, both of you seeming to ponder on your individual thoughts. "but, you know, the way you kissed me back there said a lot."

your face flushes pink. "yeah, i know," you mumble, turning your head away as you rest your arms against the railing. there's an uncomfortable feeling that sinks into you, just being aware that aomine knows how you've felt about him for years. you don't remember ever feeling as exposed as you do now.

"you're a good kisser," he comments somewhat offhandedly. "makes me wonder how it'll feel like to do that again in the future."

you pause.

your mouth drops open. "huh?" you stammer embarrassingly. "you can't joke about this, aomine—"

"look at me," he interrupts, softly but firmly. with hesitation swirling within your mind, you raise your head to meet his sapphire eyes. there's no trace of humor, or scorn, or sarcasm anywhere on his face, however. in fact, the seriousness exuding from his expression feels undeniably out of character.

and yet he's never looked as breathtaking as he does now.

"i hate saying this, but i think satsuki really did succeed this time." seeing the confusion on your face, aomine explains, "i tried pretending like i didn't have feelings for you either, because like you said, it feels weird. i guess ignoring them was more convenient for me, too. but, satsuki being satsuki, i guess she got bored of us being idiots and pulled this entire thing together."

"she's an orchestrator," you mutter, astonished. "wait, so, this means that you like me too—i'm not hallucinating?"

"nope, your ears are working perfectly fine." he states. "i've liked you ever since you broke my ankles and put me on my ass back at teiko."

overcome with surprise and glee—none of this feels real, still—you can't help but snort. "weren't you pissed when i did that? i mean i remember kise drooling over me, and akashi-kun giving me a compliment, but you were definitely upset." fond memories flash within your mind as you remember the sheer embarrassment and anger on a thirteen-year-old aomine's face.

"and i was, believe me," the boy chuckles. "but that was the first time a girl played against me and won. usually, they would just crowd around me and ramble about how hot i was. it was an unexpected change, but it was nice. kind of turned me on, too."

the last part almost causes you to choke on your saliva.

"such a pervert," you accuse him, a tint of pink staining your cheeks. "i don't even wanna know the thoughts that filled your head."

"i was thinking about how great of a girlfriend you'd be," aomine grins, stepping towards you. he reaches out, his hand moving to fix the strands of hair that covered your face. "and how pretty you'd look wearing my jersey."

"we can talk about that later," you swallow, looking up at him through your lashes, the party long forgotten. "right now, all you have to think about is kissing me again."

"that's easy," he retorts, his strong arms circling around your waist protectively. aomine leans down, his eyes slowly sliding shut, and his distinctive scent—cedarwood, smoke, and a hint of sweat—washes over you as his lips slot against yours.

unlike before, the kiss isn't frenzied or desperate; still, it maintains an air of passion, which both of you can clearly feel. his hands are curious, wandering and tracing areas all over your clothed body, almost as if he's trying to imprint them into his memory. they finally rest comfortably on the small of your back, with your own hands perched on his broad shoulders.

sneakily, he bites your lip, prompting a small, sharp whimper. your mouth opens invitingly, and his tongue sneaks in, swirling around your own.

when you pull away a little while later, you find yourself panting. your chest heaves with every breath, and your knees start to feel weak. "and you say i'm the good kisser," you say breathlessly, reaching up to give him one more peck.

"well i wasn't lying, was i?" he raises his brows slightly, making you giggle. "i had to stop myself from going even further."

"nobody said you had to stop," you whisper under your breath, catching him by surprise.

"trust me, i didn't want to," aomine leans down again, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "but we're both a little drunk right now."

his words bring you a renewed sense of clarity, or at least something resembling it. he's telling the truth, really; doing anything reckless under the influence of alcohol is quite far from being a good decision. "and i thought you were supposed to be a delinquent," you tease him harmlessly.

"even delinquents use their brain sometimes, (name)," he rolls his eyes. "besides, i'm starving right now. i wanna eat some of the onigiri that kagami made, even though he gets under my skin."

"he's a really good cook," you sigh in admiration, examining aomine's expression closely, "and he's handsome, too.."

he scowls. "watch it," the boy warns, "don't say anything you're going to regret later."

"sorry, daiki," you apologize with a grin. "it's just fun to tease you."

"whatever," aomine mutters. "tomorrow, i'll get my payback."