#lazy skin care routine

[dormiloncito]

skincare time! 😼 (<- guy who only washes his face, moisturizes and that's it)

[okwonyo]

﹙ ✉️ ﹚ ── NIGHT AFFECTION. in which ⸝ 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌.

엔하이픈 ⠀ ੭୧ ⠀ fem!rea 1100 non-idol au fluff established relationship ˊᯅˋ pet-names skinship kissing ⠀， receuil . . .

분지 ܃ rewriting a old work because why not :0

reblogs ⠀ꢾ꣒ ⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG

he is never ashamed to ask for the things that he want. whether it’s the remote when he is too lazy to get it himself or a compliment for something he has done; he always asks. 

he is not ashamed nor subtle about needing that good night kiss. and to emphasize on his point, he is not going to let you go to sleep until your lips connect with his.

he flops on top of you, his chest pressed against yours as well as his entire weight. “i can’t sleep,” he whines while you try to get him off of you. he bugs you, “i will die, kiss me.”

soon enough, he comes to find his position weirdly comfortable. he rearranges himself so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck, “i won’t get up until you kiss me,” he mumbles.

you laugh at the way his voice gets slowly quieter as be speaks, your boyfriend is already dozing off. he is already half asleep when you give him what he wants.

JAY

his reaction is quite funny. to him, it feels like his entire world crumbled in slow motion, right in front of his wide opened eyes. his goodnight kiss it is that important to him.

he doesn’t realize that he is staring at you. unintentionally, he is stuck in place without looking at anything but you, without even blinking once. he doesn’t realize that he is not laying down at the same time as you do, that is boring holes into your soul. 

realization only hits him a few seconds after you turn off the light. “babe,” he calls you hurriedly, tapping your form in fear that you would fall asleep without him receiving his act of affection.

you turn around, turning on the light in an almost panicking and downright confused. he smiles fondly, “didn’t you forget something, princess?”

seeing that you genuinely don’t know what is happening and that you are almost falling asleep, he kisses you himself.

JAKE

he is already tucked in bed, teeth freshly brushed, skin shining due to his nightly skin care routine and he feels comfortable here, enveloped like a tacos in the covers. 

it just feels too good, falling asleep after receiving a loving kiss from his beautiful girlfriend. he is so, so shocked when he realizes that you are not going to kiss him tonight. his eyes grow wide, his mouth falls agape. 

he mimics the look of a kicked pupil as he watches you get under the cover without even giving him a glance. 

he ponders, for a long moment, whether he should kiss you himself or just let it go. he is stays silent in hopes that his mind will successfully telepathically share his thoughts with you. 

“doll,” he whisper, getting closer to your ear. “can you give me a kiss, please?”

SUNGHOON

the lack of his before-sleep loving affection would leave him all sour faced. he wouldn’t hide it either, he is annoyed and kiss deprived.

you catches his face while you are getting ready to close your eyes. but his eyes digging holes in your skin makes you laugh out loud. he looks like an angry cat. 

you beat his chest playfully and with the softest giggle he has ever heard, and which makes his face arbor a more tender expression, “what’s wrong with you?”

shyness overtakes him when you laugh like that, he ends up avoiding your eyes as he fidgets with the covers. you study him for a moment until you realize what you’ve forgotten.

his cheeks are tainted with pink when you hold his chin between your index finger and your thumb. he leans in, closing his eyes and sigh when you kiss him.

SUNOO

he is bothered by it. to an extent that is a tad bit laughable. he finds himself utterly offended, downright shocked— he doesn’t have the time to be subtle about it. at all. 

this is how you are supposed to say goodnight. when it’s time to drowse, a kiss is needed. even when you are apart, the kissy face emoji or a flying kiss behind your phone’s camera is necessary. 

in all honesty, you are confused about his change of demeanor, given the fact that he was all smiley a few minutes prior. you find him with a small pout weighing on his pretty lips and don’t hear the things that he is grumbling under his breath. 

there is no way that is falling asleep without what he wants. and he is in disbelief when he realize that you forgot. and instead of reminding you, he just huffs as he lays down with his back facing you. 

he really does try to act like he doesn’t care, but after a dozen seconds in the dark, he trunks around and whisper, “hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” 

JUNGWON

he could tell you. he tap your shoulder sweetly, watch you turn around as you wait for him to talk and tells you that you forgot his before-bedtime smooch, but he doesn’t. 

of course, he takes it as an invitation to play with your mind a little, to make you curious, to make you wonder under his pleased gaze. 

a bit before you turn off the light, he speaks: “you forgot,” with the context swallowed in his throat. it rings your curiosity instantly, and you don’t want to sleep anymore. 

“jungwon,” he scoots closer to your circle of warmth. in the silence, he wraps his arms around you in the act of a loving embrace. “jungwon, what did i forget?” 

he laughs when you push him away slightly to get his attention. in lieu of an answer, he decides to get his kiss on his own. 

RIKI

he watches your every move. he follows you everywhere in the house, from the living room to the bathroom, to the bathroom to the bedroom. it is as if he is your shadow. 

you want to laugh every time you turn your gaze to his direction, seeing how impatient he is for that goodnight kiss. he looks like he has never been kissed before.

his world crumble under his feet when you decide to withhold the kiss and purposely ignore his presence. a frown draws itself on his mouth as well as on his eyebrows. 

silent treatment is what he gives you as a form of revenge. but he wants to kiss you really bad, you know. perhaps, his little vengeance doesn’t last very long because he jump when he hears he words, “i’ll find something else to kiss then!” coming out of your mouth. 

he attacks you with wet kisses all over your face as a gentle punishment. 

taglist open

[rafessecret]

⋆˚࿔ step¡sister reader && rafe cameron

OH LOOKING SO SWEET CURLED UP IN THOSE LITTLE SLEEP SHORTS.

You’re curled up in his bed again.

It’s nothing new. You always end up here. Pressed against him, trusting him, like you don’t know any better. Like you don’t realise how wrong it is. Like you don’t know what it does to him.

You’ve been Rafe’s stepsister for years now. Thrown together by your parents’ rushed marriage, forced into the same house, the same routines, the same spaces. You grew up around him, but he never really treated you like a sister. Not really. Not with the way his eyes always lingered, how his fingers would brush against your bare skin just a second too long. Not with the way he’d look at you when you were stretched out in your little skirts, your glossy lips parting when you laughed. Not with the way he needed you.

And now, he has you. Right here. In his bed. Again. Your tiny sleep shorts ride up as you shift, your warm skin brushing his. You don’t notice the way he stills, how his breathing turns heavy, uneven. You don’t notice the way his cock twitches under the sheets.

His palm rests against your hip, fingers teasing beneath the hem of your shorts, not quite touching but close. Too close. He’s warm against you, broad and solid, his grip firm but not forceful. Not yet. His lips brush against your ear, his voice low, deep, coaxing. ❝Just let me, baby,❞ he murmurs, the words sinking into you, soft and syrupy, a slow drip of something sickly sweet.

You barely stir, too sleepy to process, too used to the warmth of him, too trusting to see what’s really happening. He shifts closer, the hard press of him nudging against you. There’s something needy about the way his hips move, the slow, steady grind that makes his breath hitch. You don’t stop him. Maybe you don’t even realise what he’s doing—how wrong this is. How wrong he is.

His fingers flex against your hip, pulling you closer, guiding you into it. There’s no space between you now, just heat, just the slow rock of his hips against yours. He exhales a shaky breath, his lips pressing into the back of your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin there as he groans. His cock is so hard. And it’s all for you. Because of you.

His movements are slow and calculated, but there’s desperation in the way his fingers tighten against your skin. Like he’s trying to hold himself back. Like he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s too far gone to care. You’re so warm, so soft, so fucking perfect against him. His hand drifts lower, knuckles brushing between your thighs. Just barely. Just enough to make him bite his lip, to test the waters. But you shift—a little whimper slipping past your lips.

His cock throbs. You felt that.

Rafe’s breath turns ragged, his fingers moving again, this time pressing. Just the lightest pressure against your sleep-warm pussy, teasing, circling, testing. And fuck—he can feel how warm you are.

❝It’s just me, pretty girl,❞ he whispers, his voice thick with need. ❝Feels good, doesn’t it?❞ Your lashes flutter, a soft sigh leaving you as your hips shift ever so slightly. Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe you think it’s something else. But your body reacts, and that’s all he needs.

His fingers stroke again, right over your clit this time. A slow, lazy motion, barely there, but your breath catches. His cock aches. He can feel himself leaking, soaking his boxers, desperate for more. He grinds into you again, harder this time, the friction making him shudder. ❝Fuck, pretty girl,❞ he breathes, voice wrecked, strained.

His hips rut into you, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin fabric, wet with precum, needy, throbbing. He knows he shouldn’t. Knows he should stop. But then you whimper again, a sleepy sound of pleasure. And that’s it.

His grip tightens on your hip, holding you still as he grinds harder, his breath hot against your neck. His body shudders, his cock twitching as he cums, spilling into his boxers, into the sheets, into the space between you.

And you’re still asleep.

Still fucking trusting.

Rafe exhales sharply, forehead pressing against your shoulder, panting, wrecked, guilty, and not at all sorry. Because this won’t be the last time.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : Hey, pretty. How do we feel about this? I’m not entirely sure if it’s the one I want to share as my first piece, but I thought I’d throw it out there anyway. I’m probably overthinking it, but I’d really love to hear your thoughts, materialist for the coming soon. If you've made it this far, thank you! If you're thinking about checking out my account, please do, but it's pretty empty since I'm still setting up my nav.

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[rafes-slut]

You are rafes spoiled princess

Pairing: rafe cameron x spoiled!reader

Warnings: fluff

----

The sunlight streamed through the thick curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. You stretched lazily beneath the warmth of the blankets, the world outside feeling distant and unnecessary. Rafe was still asleep next to you, his arm draped protectively over your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you being too far from him, even for a moment.

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the feeling of being so cherished, so loved. It wasn’t just about the little things Rafe did for you; it was the way he made you feel every single day. You were his princess, and he treated you like royalty.

Rafe’s morning routine was a ritual that made your heart swell. Even on lazy days like this, when neither of you had any plans, he found ways to spoil you. A soft kiss on your forehead, his fingers tracing patterns across your skin as if to remind you that he was always there. His touches were gentle, slow, and filled with affection. Every gesture, no matter how small, had a purpose—to remind you that you were loved.

“Morning, princess,” Rafe murmured, his voice thick with sleep, but there was no mistaking the warmth in it. He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled down at you, his hair a mess from sleep, his eyes still heavy but full of tenderness.

“Morning,” you whispered back, rolling into his chest, your hands tracing the outline of his jaw. “You spoil me too much.”

His chuckle was deep and low. “Is there such a thing as too much when it comes to you?” His hands cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“No,” you admitted with a grin. “But you know, it’s not just the gifts and things. It’s the way you look at me, like I’m the only thing that matters.”

Rafe’s gaze softened, and his hand slid down to your waist, his thumb caressing the soft fabric of your pajama shirt. “You are the only thing that matters to me, baby. You’re my world. I’d give you everything if it made you happy.”

It wasn’t just the material things. Rafe made sure you had everything you wanted—designer bags, jewelry, spontaneous trips to places you only dreamed of. But it was the little things that showed you his love the most: the way he remembered the smallest details, the way he made you feel safe and cherished.

Later that morning, after the two of you had lingered in bed, he surprised you with breakfast in bed—scrambled eggs, pancakes with syrup dripping down the sides, and fresh strawberries, your favorite. “Eat, princess. You’re too pretty to skip meals.”

“Stop spoiling me,” you laughed, reaching for the fork as he handed you the plate. But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the affection he showered on you. His attention, his care—it was everything you never knew you needed.

“I’m never gonna stop,” he replied, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if trying to imprint his love into every part of you. “You deserve everything and more. Whatever you want, baby, you’ve got it.”

You looked up at him, your heart full. He wasn’t just spoiling you with things—he was giving you something far more precious: his heart. And that was all you ever needed.

[shidoglazer]

Hii! Nagi and breeding? Pls (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

🔞 req nagi seishiro oneshot mdni breeding kink

thanks for sending this in ! 🤍

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

nagi seishiro? everyone describes him as lazy and sloppy. and you were no exception to that, whenever you two went out? he’d be walking like he was half-dead. morning routines? it takes a war tank just to pull him out of bed. even during sex, you practically have to beg him to pull out whenever you felt his dick twitch inside of you, signalling he was about to cum, “n-nagi! pull out! fffuck, mnngh!” “mmn, i know, i know. you jus’ feel so good, angel.” he mumbled against your shoulder before he pulled out, lifted his body up and giving his cock some shallow pumps as he came onto your stomach.

one day, nagi suddenly went out without you. weird. you didn’t think much of it, maybe he was with reo, or a game caught his eye when you were out the other day. you were sat at the living room on your phone while waiting for your boyfriend to come back.

your head snapped to the main entrance as the lock made a “click!” sound, nagi didn’t have anything on him, but a square-shaped thing in the pouch of his hoodie. “sei! welcome back, where were you?” “mmh.” he responded hesitantly, going over to where you were at and sitting next to you, reaching into the pouch of his hoodie and taking out a box, handing it to you.

…birth control. you stared at the box dumbfounded for a bit, then staring back at him, waiting for him to say something while his blank face was still staring at you, swallowing the lump in his throat as he started to speak softly. “pulling out’s a hassle. and you don’t like condoms. so,” he pointed towards the box.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you were on top of nagi, hands on his shoulders as your body was bouncing up and down onto his cock, it hitting your g-spot everytime you slammed down onto him as usual. he had his eyes shut, moaning each time gravity pulled you down as he kept his hands on your hips. “y-you’re 100% sure this’ll be okay? mnngh,, cuz i’m on the pill n everything,” “yes. jus’ keep going, sweet girl.” in all honesty, he had no idea. he was more than willing to take care of you if anything went wrong, so what was there to worry about?

you couldn’t help but trust his gentle words, his tender voice, his soft expression . . . it was all so attracting. you nodded gently, falling limp onto his body as you let your hips do the work, the slapping from your skin being able to be heard echoing down the halls to downstairs. nagi placed multiple hickeys onto your neck while his hips jerked upwards occasionally to contribute to the pleasure. your lower body was burning, yet you couldn’t help but to keep chasing your high in desperation.

eventually, you tapped out , being a panting mess as you laid atop of your boyfriend. nagi caught on quickly, holding onto your waist and starting to thrust upwards, earning a moan from you from the unexpected contact to your cervix. “mmmgggahhh! ssseiii!!!.. right there!, ffuck babe,” your body arched towards him as he placed tender kisses onto any patch of skin he could find. “g’na cum inside you, mmkay?” he mumbled against your neck, feeling his dick twitch inside you.

“uhuhhh.. pleaase seiii..” your moans were staggered all around. you felt yourself getting closer, gripping onto nagis shoulders out of the pleasure you were feeling. “nagi!! gonna cum, gonnacumgonnacum!!—” he let out a hum before you released onto his cock, feeling a sea of his cum filling your stomach. he whimpered softly, throwing his head back as he placed one last thrust into you to make sure everything went in you. “fffuck angel.. lift y’rself up for me. lemme see.” he said in a demanding yet soft tone.

you slowly lifted yourself up with the support of your legs as one of his hands trailed to your lower stomach, feeling the bulge there caused by his cum and his cock filling you up. he let out a low hum at the sight, pulling you back down and kissing your temple, slowly pulling out of you, letting everything leak onto the sheets. “mmnn. we should do this more often.” he muttered. nagi felt a sense of possessiveness and ownership over you when he saw you take such a big load of his arousal into your petite hole. safe to say, you need to make trips to the pharmacy every once a month to get more pills for yourself now.

🍓

hii thanks 4 reading throughhh sorry for any mistakes or ooc parts & sorry its a bit shortt my creative juices are not flowing..

★ check out my masterlist !

[2neaky]

Black orchid & patchouli has been in the air ever since the bathroom door opened. Sure, it’s died down some. Yet, still, the source of the smell is present.

Just a foot or two away from him.

She’s in her own world, listening only to her thoughts. 

He knows.

He remembers when she told him that getting dressed is her favorite part of the day. It’s during that time she usually turns her brain off, and allows her body to move on autopilot.

It’s the perfect chance to just simply exist for her.

It’s very calming, he understands.

She looks so at peace as she moves. So lost in her own head that she never really realizes that he’s staring.

He always does.

She doesn’t even know that his favorite part of the day is watching her get ready.

Her limbs move with grace; A true vision when she drops her fluffy, white towel to the bed, baring her body to the privacy of this room.

Their bedroom.

When it comes to moisturizing, her routine is always the same: arms first, abdomen, legs, then feet. Being that they’re just reaching the end of winter, gourmand and cozy scents have her preference as of late.

The scent of today is different, however; light, floral, and warm.

He can’t quite catch the notes—maybe there’s a hint of pepper. But, it isn’t offending. Actually, it works just perfectly on her; an added bit of spice to her sweetness.

So entranced by the smell, he doesn’t even realize how long he’s been pondering on it. He’ll have to ask her about that one, he thinks as he recenters his focus.

She’s moved to her stomach, rubbing the body butter into her skin. Off-white slowly melts into warm brown skin as she takes her time to massage it in.

Her palms, flat against her body, keep going in circles. Circling, circling, circling her lower tummy—right below her navel. So tender, gently pressing into the relaxed muscles of her stomach.

The first thought that pops into his head: a baby. 

He almost laughs out loud, it’s so stupid. So ridiculous how such a simple act—his woman taking care of herself—can get him to think of something so intense. So life changing.

It’s scary, the idea of having a family of his own. But … with her? 

That alone settles him. 

If anyone has the potential to be the perfect mother, it’s her. He believes in her. So much.

“Terry?”

Her voice is pure silk. He almost doesn’t hear it.

“Yeah, baby?”

Taking up the small tub of body butter, she outstretches her hand to him. Its sparkling scent fills the air, it’s all he smells.

“Help me, please?”

He looks up from the swirled butter in the tub to warm brown eyes, staring back at him over a shoulder. 

Her back is presented to him. The divot of her spine runs down its middle, tailed by twin dimples at the small of her back.

Below the left dimple, closer to her hip rather than directly under it, is his name in scripted black ink: 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅. 

It’s so tiny, that his thumb covers it every time he holds her there.

And below that is an ass that he feels blessed to see every day. It sits up, the brown skin smooth and unmarred. She’s got subtle hip dips that give way to wide thighs, granting the prettiest pear-shape. 

He can hardly resist the urge to take a bite every time he sees her this way.

“You never ask me for help,” he smirks, scooting towards the bed’s edge to get closer.

“I know, but … I decided to be a little lazy today,” she smiles. 

And he loves when she does. The way the corners of her eyes crinkle up, adding a comforting sense of familiarity and warmth to the expression.

He feels lucky that’s it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and the last thing he sees when he goes to sleep. That’s a smile he’d love for his child to see, growing up.

He’s not letting this one go, huh?

Wordlessly, he sets the tub down in his lap and scoops a dollop up with a finger. Spreading it over his palm, he then rubs both hands together. The smooth butter warms quickly in his hands.

He starts at her shoulder blades, dragging his hands down her skin. He’s careful, trying to mimic her tenderness. It comes so natural to her, evident in the way her body languidly moves. 

He wonders if she can tell that it isn’t the same for him? The pressure he applies is uneven—unsure. His hands move with the weight of his past, one of a former Marine.

Hands trained to be a weapon, now being used to massage lotion into the tender skin of his love.

They’ve been together for so long. These hands have touched every part of her body, more times than he can even think to count. He knows her body so well, yet still feels as though it’s a privilege that she’s allowed him to be apart of her regimen. Her favorite part of her day.

He takes more crème into his hands; this time his hands run down the spout of her spine, fingers molding to the contours of her body. He makes sure to get her sides, too. Can’t leave those dry.

Then he finally gets to the bottom. His fingers start at the small of her back before they slow spread out. His fingers curl ‘round the bones of her hips, thumbs massaging whatever’s left of the crème into her skin.

His hands do one last pass down her back, then he has to pull them away. 

Standing between his legs, she slowly spins, now presenting her front to him. He swallows. 

First, his eyes fall between her legs to fat lips thinly veiled by a trimmed bed of dark curls. Then, they slowly lift to the basin of her stomach, up her torso, through the valley of her breasts, and finally, to her round face.

A grateful smile is on her full lips, the apples of her cheeks lifted, too.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, still, yet in her eyes there’s contemplation. Her thoughts are rolling over in her head, he can tell. And that’s why he doesn’t pull away—only stays in place, waiting on her next few words.

“You can help me some more, if you want.”

This time, he’s the one smiling, though it’s nowhere near as innocent as hers. Without any objection, he dips a finger back in the tub of lotion and rubs some between his hands.

“Turn around,” he mumbles, matching her quiet volume. 

Each careful step she takes in turning her back to him makes her ass jiggle. And when it’s presented to him once again, he wastes no time making the wide surface shine.

Like a sculptor whose hands mold and shape the clay before them, he kneads the fat with a renewed sense of expertise. He makes sure to cover the fronts of her hips to the flanks of her ass. 

And when he gets those parts, his hands encase her hips and lays two, quick taps to the side of her left cheek. He lets himself smirk, watching the fat ripple.

“Turn around.”

She does it wordlessly, carefully raising her forearms to avoid hitting his head. When they face each other again, he pulls her in close by her waist. Letting temptation win, he presses a smooch right above her belly button.

“Terry,” she giggles.

Wordlessly, he smirks, more so to himself as he sets the tub of lotion to the side.

He gathers more crème onto his hands before they snake behind her, diving for the underside of her bottom. He’s taking his job serious, making sure to moisturize every crevice of skin hidden by a fold—he even lifts it if he has to.

So concentrated on the task, the gentle weight of hands on his shoulders slips by his notice. But, he does realize they’re there when her fingers press into his skin—just as he’s pulls her cheeks apart.

His head cranes up, finding those chocolate brown eyes lower than usual. Much less focused, too.

This time, when he does it again, he doesn’t look away. His fingers reach just a little further, the tips of them barely grazing between her cheeks. His grip gets a little tighter, too, and his hands pull them just a little bit further apart.

For a moment, he holds her open. As the warm air of the room hits her newly exposed parts, her hole clenches. Her pussy even flutters. The reactions her body makes are thoughtless.

And so is the movement of his hand when he swipes a middle finger up her crack, stopping it just over her puckered hole. 

He taps it once. Twice. 

The little thing winks beneath the pad of his finger. His gaze falls to the globes of fat he holds in his big hands. 

“When’s the last time we played back here?”

Shyness bleeds onto her face. She tries to hide it with a lifted shoulder, though the corners of her spreading lips can’t be concealed. 

“A while,” she mumbles.

The sweet sound of a hum made in agreement resounds. Circles of hazel flick upwards to meet her gaze again.

“Yeah … s’been a while, huh? You cleaned good?”

Her heart stammers behind her rib cage. It leaves her almost breathless. 

“Terry,” she warns.

His finger had never moved from that spot. It circles the taught skin. “What? You busy today?”

Her eyes flutter. One of her hands on his shoulders drops to his bicep, giving it a weak squeeze. “Y-yes.”

“Yes to both? And with what?”

As her mouth opens, her words get caught in her throat. That finger applies a soft pressure that sends her pussy into a frenzy.

“Yes, and g-groceries, Terry.” She had almost whined out.

“Aldis not going nowhere.” He smirks up at her.

She shivers, feeling that finger angling to press its tip right at her hole. “The—I don’t want t-to be there when it’s c-crowded.”

He half-shrugs with a clueless frown. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, which only makes him more determined. It seems he hasn’t fully convinced her to abandon her responsibilities, something he’s been too comfortable doing himself since he met her.

“Remember how wet you got last time?” He leans in closer, face just centimeters away from her pussy as he lowers his voice for her to only hear. “I didn’t even touch her.”

The corners of his mouth raise even higher as he looks into her eyes, seeing them glaze over in real-time as her brain replays the distant memory.

“All I did, was play with—“ His finger double-taps at her un-stretched hole again. “You made such a mess. You think you could do that again?”

She dismisses a whimper as she remembers how she felt like a leaking faucet that night. Beneath her, the sheet was a mess, soaked. Her thighs only trembled as her pussy dribbled, globs of slick rolling down its inner-sides.

Her breath hitches, feeling the rough pad of that finger slide back and forth over her. It’s like a splash of cold water, bringing her back to focus.

The gentle musk of her arousal hits his nose. It mixes deliciously with the scent of her crème.

“I’ll get the groceries this week.”

Her eyes almost cross as that finger presses harder against her hole.

“Just lemme do this.”

‘Yes’ and ‘no’ become a blur in her mind. She doesn’t even hear herself when she mumbles the one beginning with ‘y.’

She didn’t think twice about it when he told her to get on the bed, face down and ass to the sky. The position’s got her open and needy. While the water runs distantly in the background, her brain is fuzzy.

All it can do is conjure up thoughts of how far he’ll go this time. There’s only been one time she took his dick through the back, all other times it was his hand. 

She hopes they can turn that one time into two. The thought almost makes her drool into the pillow.

She doesn’t hear when the bathroom faucet squeaks as it’s closed. Or when Terry emerges from the bathroom, muttering about having to fix that later.

Just feet away from the bed, he admires the picture before him: a gift, all spread out and open for him.

“Now, ain’t you a sight?”

His voice brings her from her reverie. The only response she gives is to reach behind and pull those shiny, smooth cheeks apart to show him how her body yearns for his touch.

Both holes clench. Beads of slick glisten through the hair closest to the opening of her cunt.

He takes slow steps towards her. “Look at the mess I created.” He chuckles to himself, barely shaking his head. “Guess I gotta clean it up, huh?”

Dumbly, her face pressed to the sheets, she nods. 

When he’s finally behind her, his hands take their treasured spots over her hips—left thumb covering his name, as always.

“How should I clean it up, baby?”

Her eyes falls closed as she tries to focus on speaking her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“U-use your tongue, first.”

His face brightens with a toothy smile. “First? Oh, there’s more,” he laughs.

He can’t tell if it’s a hum or a moan she makes, maybe it’s both. But he does understand when she nods.

“Well how you want me to finish the job, when I’m done using my tongue?”

She can hear the amusement in his voice, the smirk on his lips. Quite frankly, she’s too horny to be timid about it.

“Your dick—“

He almost blanches at her boldness. But his shock gives way to a new wave of arousal.

“Want it, Terry,” she speaks breathlessly. “Wanna feel—“ she reaches back again to spread herself again. “—feel full.”

His fingers sink further into the fat of her hips as he gathers all the moisture he can in his mouth. There’s a quick shift of his jaw, then a bullet of spit shoots past his puckered lips and hits his target dead-center.

Her body twitches from the impact. “Oh…” she moans softly.

The translucent, bubbly glob of spit rolls over the tight ring, making it shine. It dribbles down further, slipping down the slide of her crack and finding its way into her shallow bed of curls.

He catches her pussy do a little flutter. The tiny reaction prompts him to lift a hand from a hip, only to slam it back down against her right cheek.

Her back bows inward, a quiet mewl coming from her.

“Yeaah, keep it just like that… Just like … that.”

She hadn’t even heard the shift of his body—only felt his soft, warm, velvety tongue lave against her hole.

A gasp—she almost inches forward before remembering not to run from such pleasure. Terry’s never liked that.

“Mmh…”

There’s a tenderness that spreads throughout her cunt as his hum provides a soft vibration for her. Every time her body bears down, there’s an ache in her core.

He laps against her one more time before pulling the taut skin into his mouth to suck on. There’s hardly any give, but he doesn’t stop. His hands keep her spread apart as he continues burying his face in her ass. 

Terry’s never been a man too scared to get messy, especially when it counts. And when it comes to his woman, trust that it counts.

Slobbing her down, his own spit coats the lower half of his face as he tongues her hole down without coming up for air. The wide, wet muscle is putting in overtime to work her open. 

Her moans goad him on, even if they are muffled by the sheets.

“Mh … mmh,” he groans, eyes closed as he devours her like a meal. 

One hand lifts, immediately falling back down against the plump skin of her asscheek. The spank is sharp, it echoes in her ears.

“Shit,” she hisses, face screwing up as his tongue breaks past her rim.

He pulls back, if only to admire his work so far. In between her cheeks glisten. And, what’s more, is that she’s dripping onto the bed.

Just like last time.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yess, baby, yes.”

Wordlessly, he dives back in. The same hand he used to smack her earlier, leaves its spot once again. 

She anticipates another slap, catches herself almost begging for it, actually. However, she gets a better surprise:

His hand, warm and soft, slides over her pussy with ease to cup it from underneath. She flinches when his fingers barely rub over her swollen clit.

That doesn’t last too long; Terry’s hand retreats, fingers poised just at the opening of her drooling cunt.

With too much ease, both middle and ring fingers slip in.

She whimpers.

They sink right in with wet suction, her pussy spurting around them. His heavy fingers settle comfortably in a familiar spot within her tight and slippery heat as her body seems to instantly mold around them.

Every time Terry’s in it, he almost swears she’s truly an endless portal into ecstasy. 

And while his mind finds itself caught on the wonders of her pussy, his mouth still wrecks her even tighter hole; His tongue digs into her, his fingers are pressing into her G-spot—it all stuns her. She can hardly breathe, feeling him push and prod. 

One particularly loud slurp of his makes her eyes roll back. Her pussy flutters, feeling a glob of his spit roll down her crack.

“Wanna fuck you. Fuck you with my tongue—“

She moans in agreement. The guttural sound transcends past the thick sheets.

“Hold it open.”

Although his voice is low, she still hears every word Terry mutters.

With an abundance of eagerness that her body can barely contain, she reaches back to hold herself open for him. 

As Terry remains knuckles deep within her, aiding in the escape of her sticky sap from her cunt, he pushes his tongue back into her ass.

She sloshes as he fucks his fingers up into her. Milky white and almost frothy cream runs down the palm of his hand to his wrist.

He doesn’t move his head, too desperate for her body to pull away. Instead, he tires himself with fucking into her by dragging his tongue in and out, his pace quickening. The ache of his jaw and the burn of the overworked muscle does nothing to dissuade him. 

One must work for their pleasure, he knows that.

“Oh … ohh … ah—aauhh!”

Her whines work alongside the tightening of her body. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t let up or slow down.

In fact, he receives her orgasm with an open palm, letting her pussy spill into it. Her squirt splashes against his forearm and the bed. And still, his hand never stops.

“Y’know … I was thinking about how much … how much I wanna make you a mom.”

His words come out airy and light, but that doesn’t diminish their effect. Her body responds, clamping tighter around his fingers.

A deep chuckle rises out of him. “You like that?”

Her only response is an incoherent moan as she pushes her hips back on his hand.

“Want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes,” her voice waivers.

When he pulls his hand out of her, it’s like a great loss. Suddenly, her world is empty without him. She wants to cry.

“Yeah, me too.”

When Terry finally pulls his dick out, he’s got more than enough of her cum on-hand to lube himself up. The creamy mess of her cunt is more than enough material to get him rock hard—not that he wasn’t already.

Taking himself in hand, he slowly lifts his heavy cock and drops it right between her ass cheeks. 

About two inches wide starting at the tip, his dick only gets slightly wider towards the base. Its underside has got that one vein running along it. She always licks at it when presented with such an opportunity.

A heated tint of flushed pink blossoms over the bulbous tip, dying down to a darker shade of brown along his shaft. It curves just to the left, the perfect angle that always seemed to knock against her walls perfectly.

Pulling his hips backward, he watches his dick drag against her supple skin, falling closer towards her center. When it’s just his tip left touching her, he takes ahold of himself at the base and slowly pushes forward.

He slips against her underside, burrowing into her thin bed of curls. The head knocks against her clit, triggering a stronger quake in her thighs.

Terry puckers his lips to spit another thick loogey, watching it land on her puckered rim. It winks back at him.

She can’t tell what goes in first, his thumb or his dick. All she knows is that he’s about nine inches deep in her cunt, and that there’s a thumb sinking into her ass.

There’s a delay before a long-winded, singular moan falls out of her mouth. All of her breath is caught in her chest. Her body is tense.

“Breath, baby. Breathe,” he reminds her.

Her brain buzzes. His words really only get through to her once his hand washes over her back like a cool rag.

That’s all it takes for her body to relax—somewhat at least. Her shoulders relax and her back even sinks inward.

A softer, much shorter moan leaves her, and the arching of her back accentuates the ache caused by his dick pressing against her walls. If either of them would look, they’ll see the outline of him, poking through her lower tummy in a small bulge.

Her pussy, stretched to its capacity, flutters around him, almost like it’s trying to swallow more than it can handle.

“S-so heavy,” she mumbles, gripping the sheets.

“But you like it,” he smiles. “I could tell, hm?”

Terry pushes in the last inch, taking too much joy in the broken whimper that leaves her. She’s suffocating, squeezing him and bathing him in wetness all the same. In this deep, he feels a soft, spongy wall pressing against his tip. 

“What’s that?” He shifts inside, nudging at that wall.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t look back, face too screwed up to see the horrific smile on his face.

“Huh?”

She almost wails out. Her hands twitch, itching to reach for her stomach. To cradle it as the deep ache within her reaches new heights.

“C’mon, talk to me.” 

The rest of his fingers splay out over the small of her back as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass. The thin stretch of muscle separating the two pleasure zones allows him to feel the curvature of himself, sitting deep in her walls.

“I’m in your stomach?”

Teeth gritted, she nods her head as fast as she can.

“You so quiet already.” Gentle and slow, he pulls out some inches, granting her relief. “I don’t like that.”

He slides his hips back in, pushing his dick right up against her cervix.

“GOD—“

“Yeah, like that.” He pulls out again, only to give her yet another deep stroke. “Keep doing that. Keep talking to me—”

“H-ooh—T-Terry!”

“Yes, baby,” he groans out over the sound of his hips meeting her ass. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“Ffuuuck!”

She writhes beneath him, shouting out ragged moans as he’s digging her out. 

Every time he pulls out, his dick is wetter and wetter. It goes from shining with her juices to caked in her crème in just a few strokes. 

Around her stretched hole is a mess, covered in her frothy release. It all builds up to the point that some of it sludges down between her legs and falls to the bed.

“Oh … shii—aaugh!”

Her resolve breaks, finally allowing her to press a hand to her stomach. Under her palm, she feels the repeating wave of his dick punching her guts beneath the wall of muscle.

She hisses, feeling his thumb fuck her ass as he pulls her back against his. With every plop of their body’s meeting, her cream splatters against his pelvis. Tiny beads of white fly, landing against his sweat-sheathed skin.

“Gonna need another shower after this, huh?” 

Even as Terry tries to remain cocky, his upper lip twitches as his body starts to react to this pleasure.

“Making a mess.” His stomach clenches. “Th-thought I was s’posed to be cleaning up.” 

He chokes out a bit of laughter, trying to conceal a moan of his own. His words start to blend as the pleasure overtakes him:

“You … creamin’ all over … mmh—“

His eyes threaten to roll back. But just as fast, Terry seems to regain a bit of composure. Enough to lock back in.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, his focus straightens and he gives repeated strokes. They’re dead-on, sharp, and heavy.

She screams out a profanity—he can’t even tell which one because she’s so out of it. But, her body is granted a moment of relief as he stops.

Carefully, he pulls his thumb out of her butt. It shines with her slick. When he looks at her barely stretched hole, clenching around nothing, it’s covered in her cream. 

The sight has him twitching inside of her, causing her body to give him a couple of extra squeezes in response.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. As his body starts to weaken, he sways a little. “M’sorry I had to mess you up like this, baby.”

Her only response is a mewl as she tries to fix herself.

Taking the hand he had used previously, he holds himself at the base to pull out of her. And when he’s finally out, it’s like there’s a dick-shaped hole in her stomach. She swears he left an impression inside of her.

Her pussy feels so tender and swollen, clit overly sensitive. And yet, the pain of it all is too good. She misses it. She misses him.

And he can tell, seeing her hole flutter around nothing, stretched out. But she doesn’t have to worry for too long, because he’ll fix that.

Peering down at himself, Terry is marveled at all of the mess between them. His dick, still hard, is a creamy, sticky mess—practically dripping in her release.

At the base is where there’s the most build-up. Loopy off of all the testosterone running through him, he gets an idea that has him swiping up some of the mess with his middle and ring finger. 

With no hesitation, Terry presses the two fingers to her ass. They slide in with ease, even causing a very loud squish.

“Ooouuhh,” she groans. 

Turning her head to the side, Terry’s finally able to see how pleasure contorts her face. Eyes low and unfocused, heavy bottom lip pulled between both rows of teeth, as she begins to slowly rock back and forth. So desperate, she fucks herself on his fingers.

“Just like that … take it, baby. Take it—”

“Oouuh shit, Terry.”

“C’mon.”

“Ooh, fuck—“

Pfffffft.

The sharp sound of air expelling from her cunt as Terry pushes back in, punctuates her sentence. Her mouth drops open, her neck craning against the sheets.

He’s speechless, too. Seeing the way her pussy blows a raspberry around his thick dick, spitting out dribblets of cream against his lower stomach. Some even dribbles out of her.

“Hnnnh,” she whines, pathetically.

Curling his fingers inside of her, he plays with her ass. Throughout this all, his other hand had never left her left hip, thumb still covering his name.

He pulls out halfway, only to push his dick back in.

“Fuck, I love it when she talks to me,” he laughs, breathlessly, throwing his head back. It’s music to his ears, hearing her pussy squirt and fart around him.

So lost in the sound, he doesn’t even notice the way her shoulders twitch as her orgasm crashes into her. It’s not until he feels water hit his pelvis that he looks down.

Around his dick, she squirts. It’s a heavy enough stream. He watches it trickles down both of their thighs, completely drenching the already soaked through sheets.

Without a word, he pulls his fingers out before placing the other hand on her hip. His grip tightens around her.

Leaning more of his weight forward, Terry pushes her arch deeper. “Really gonna … make you a mommy like this—“

She gets no prep as he fucks the arch out of her back and puts her into the mattress. The clap of her ass against his pelvis is almost deafening. 

Her hips are barely off of the bed. Behind them, her legs raise, toes curling tightly as she wails out.

“Keep squeezing me,” he pants, teeth gritted. “Keep fuckin’ … fu-uck—“

He buries his face into her neck, groaning. His ears ring as he shoots off a heavy load in her.

For minutes, they stay connected as Terry tries to regain his breath. His orgasm lasts much longer than he thought it would, filling her to the brim.

When he finally pulls out, mustering enough strength to stand, he watches tiredly as her body pushes out thick globs of their mixed release.

Her pussy is slathered in their mess, certain spots caked up in a frothy white.

He grabs a cheek, pulling it apart from its twin so that he can see it all much clearer.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. “Love when you let me use you.”

Mindlessly, he lets a hand fall to his dick. It’s tender, but his hold on himself is light. Still holding her open with the other hand, he gently strokes himself. His hand practically glides over himself, what with all the cum coating his dick.

The sensation, the mess, her—it doesn’t take too much for him to get a semi.

“Fuck, you always make me so horny.”

He gets a knee on the bed, positioning himself directly behind her again.

Sensing his growing closeness, she weakly picks her head up and looks back at him. She’s a vision of wild curls, watery eyes, and bitten-raw lips.

As he gets closer, stroking his hardening dick, he brushes his fat, swelling tip again her lips. Rubbing himself against her, he gathers more of cum, coating himself.

“Terry,” she whines, a soft pout on her lips.

“You too tired?”

He pulls her asscheek further, fully exposing her second hole.

Her plump lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You want me to stop? You could tell me, baby,” he cooes.

Still, he begins rubbing his tip against the much smaller hole. She can feel it throb against her.

“Tell me. Y’know I’ll still get the groceries for you.”

He gives her time to object, to say ‘no,’ while he’s positioning himself at her opening. However, she only watches, her face scrunching even more as he slowly applies pressure.

“I’ll get you whatever you want. Especially when you have our son.”

With little effort, he pops the head in past her rim. A tired smile lifts his lips as she moans out lowly. Her head turns back forward as it falls to the bed.

Weak to the way he uses her body, she simply lies there, taking his dick through the back as he sings his delusions to her (because who said she was going to have a boy).

Even tired, her body tenses with the pressure of his dick sliding in her. He’s not as rough as when he was in her pussy.

This time, his strokes are gentle and shallow. It’s a moderate pace he maintains as he holds her open to see the way he stretches her out.

And it just does something to him; seeing her spent pussy just below, covered in their cum and still leaking while he uses her asshole just the same.

Because, she’s his woman, and he’s going to have every part of her body. Just in the same way that he’s her man, and if she wants him at any time she can have him.

His second orgasm doesn’t take long to come. When he feels it approaching, he carefully pulls out. Taking himself in hand, he gives a few short strokes before painting her ass. 

Streaks of white splatter against the warm brown canvas, making her ass look like toasted buns covered in vanilla drizzle. 

And if he had the energy to, he’d eat her ass again. But this was already a lot, and he can’t lie, he’s exhausted.

Terry can only hope that she won’t be mad that he waited a little longer to get the groceries.

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[fear-is-truth]

SQUID GAME : SLEEPING HEADCANONS

ft. in-ho (front man) ‧ sae-byeok (067) ‧ hyun-ju (120) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ sang-woo (218) ‧ su-bong (230) ‧ dae-ho (388)

HWANG IN-HO (황인호)

in-ho isn’t the type to just lie down and pass out. he has a habit of unwinding first—usually with a book in one hand and a glass of whiskey or wine in the other. this is his ritual, something he’s done long before you ever shared a bed with him.

he doesn’t sleep flat on his back; that feels too exposed. instead, he rests on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped across his stomach or loosely over you. he’s not overly clingy in his sleep.

his fingers are always cold, no matter the season. if you grab his hand under the covers, you’ll notice the contrast—the way his body is warm, but his hands take time to catch up.

keeps one arm under the pillow. it’s a habit, something ingrained in him. even when you’re curled against his chest, one arm stays tucked under his pillow, like muscle memory from years of sleeping alone. but the other? that one rests on you—against your back, waist, or shoulder.

in-ho wakes up before you. he’s not the type to stir you awake with lazy affection—he lets you rest. sometimes, he’ll just lie there, staring at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts before the day starts. other times, he’ll prop himself up against the headboard and read again, fingers idly skimming your back if you’re still curled up against him.

has a low tolerance for clutter in bed. no extra pillows crowding the space, no tangled blankets. everything is neatly arranged before he even gets in. if you kick the sheets off, he’ll absently pull them back over you.

if you wake up in the middle of the night, he notices. even if he’s deeply asleep, some part of him is attuned to your movements. if you stir too much, he’ll mumble something—maybe just your name, voice husky from sleep—before settling his hand over yours, soothing you back to sleep.

────౨ৎ────

KANG SAE-BYEOK (강새벽)

at first, she doesn’t like touching. if you move too close, she stiffens, scooting away, not out of dislike but out of habit. over time, she softens—little by little. the first time she lets herself lean into you in her sleep, it’s unconscious. she wakes up to find herself pressed against you, her head tucked beneath your chin, and for a second, she considers pulling away. but she doesn’t.

eventually, she starts seeking the warmth on her own terms. she’ll still start out curled up, but now, she angles herself closer. lets you rest a hand on her waist. on nights when she’s too exhausted to care, she’ll be the small spoon, letting you hold her.

she never admits that she likes it, but you can tell—by the way her breathing evens out faster, the way her shoulders slowly lose their tension. if she wakes up first, she won’t move right away. just stays.

she sleeps curled up in a tight fetal position, her back to you, arms tucked close to her chest. even in sleep, she doesn’t fully relax. her breathing stays light, and she wakes up easily at the slightest noise in the room.

────౨ৎ────

CHO HYUN-JU (조현주)

her bedtime routine is pretty meticulous. she always washes her face, carefully patting her skin dry instead of rubbing it. if you’re in the bathroom with her, she’ll talk to you between steps, asking about your day, teasing you if you rush through your routine. she takes care of her hair too, combing through it with a sleepy focus.

despite her towering height, hyun-ju has no problem curling up against you as the little spoon (in fact, she prefers being the little spoon).

────౨ৎ────

NAM-GYU (남규)

nam-gyu isn’t the type to sleep peacefully on his own side of the bed. even if he’s half-asleep, he’ll instinctively reach out, fingers brushing over your arm, his leg resting against yours—anything to remind himself that you’re there. if you shift away, he makes a noise of protest, barely awake, and pulls you right back.

big or little spoon? both. he likes being the little spoon just as much as the big spoon—maybe even more. he enjoys the feeling of being held, of your arms loosely draped around him, fingers lazily tracing along his side. but when he’s in a possessive mood, he’ll be the one wrapping around you, pulling you against his chest with an arm slung over your waist.

if you move too much or try to escape his grip, he’ll mumble something incoherent, a sleepy complaint. sometimes it’s your name, other times just a vague, “don’t.” if you actually try to leave the bed, he’ll tug you back without even opening his eyes.

messy sleeper. the sheets are always tangled, kicked to the bottom of the bed, or halfway draped over the both of you. his arm ends up over your face sometimes, his leg thrown over yours.

nam-gyu doesn’t go to bed early and hates waking up first. if you try to move in the morning, he’ll groan, bury his face against your shoulder, and grumble something about five more minutes. if you actually get up, he’ll sulk.

sleeps best when he knows you’re there. no matter how deep in sleep he is, if you move too far or leave the bed, sometimes he’ll wake up, bleary-eyed and confused, wondering where you went. and when you return, he’ll grumble, “where’d you go?” before falling back asleep almost immediately.

────౨ৎ────

CHO SANG-WOO (조상우)

sang-woo’s a complicated one. he’s the kind of person who would keep his distance in bed at first, never too clingy. he’d likely prefer to be on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, mind still racing long after the day’s over.

his insomnia affects how he sleeps. he’s the type to stay up late, staring at the ceiling, running over everything in his mind. when he finally does manage to sleep, he tosses and turns, adjusting his position often, trying to find the right comfort. but even when he does, it’s like his mind never fully shuts off.

his bed habits are meticulous, even though he’s restless. he takes a long time to arrange his pillows, trying to get the perfect setup. everything has to be just right. but once he’s settled, he has a tendency to sleep on his side, curled up just enough to feel somewhat protected, though he’s not a full-on fetal position sleeper.

he’s not the type to hold you in a warm embrace, but you’ll notice that, over time, he’ll adjust his position to make sure there’s some form of proximity. he might even end up with an arm slung over you, but it’s not an overtly affectionate gesture—it’s more about security, for both of you.

in the mornings, he’s up early, never staying in bed too long.

────౨ৎ────

CHOI SU-BONG (최수봉)

su-bong is a mess when he sleeps. even with the entire king-sized bed at his disposal, he somehow ends up tangled in the blankets, stealing more than his share of the covers. you’ll wake up to find him sprawled out, half of his body off the edge of the bed, and the sheets twisted around him.

he’s a heavy sleeper, too, so good luck trying to move him when he’s settled into his nest of blankets. at some point during the night, you’ll find yourself half-covered, with him all sprawled out, usually hogging most of the bed. his body often ends up in awkward positions—legs tangled up in the sheets or half on top of you.

as for positions, he’s not one to sleep in a single spot. sometimes he’ll end up on his side, facing away from you with one arm draped over the pillow, taking up a chunk of space.

other times, he’ll be lying flat on his back, one leg kicked out at an odd angle while his arm is thrown across his face like he’s trying to block out the light. if he’s feeling clingy, he might end up in a more tangled position, with his back pressed against yours, his arm over your waist in a half-hug.

────౨ৎ────

KANG DAE-HO (강대호)

absolutely the big spoon, no question about it. when you’re asleep, his large frame naturally curves around you, his chest pressed against your back. his hands, always warm, rest firmly but gently on your waist. he’s a safe presence in the bed that makes you feel like you could sleep through anything.

dae-ho’s body is definitely like a furnace—he radiates warmth. when you’re in his arms, it’s like being wrapped in a cozy blanket. his chest is always pleasantly hot against your back, and his hands, even in the dead of night, are a constant source of warmth.

has this habit of resting his head on your shoulder as he drifts off. when he’s awake, he’ll often run a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your face with tenderness.

dae-ho is a deep sleeper, so when he falls asleep, he’s completely out of it until the morning comes. he’s not the type to toss and turn, either.

but some nights aren’t as peaceful. nightmares creep in, pulling him back to places he’d rather forget. sometimes, he jolts awake, eyes wild and body tense. he hates making it your problem and feels guilty about waking you. you comfort him by rubbing slow circles on his back.

some nights aren’t as peaceful. nightmares drag him back to places he’d rather forget, and he jolts awake, body rigid, breath unsteady. dae-ho hates disturbing you, hates the guilt that settles in his chest when he realises he has. but you always assure him it’s okay—rubbing slow circles on his back, or resting your forehead against his until his breathing evens out.

folds blankets with army precision, no exaggeration. the first time you saw him do it, you were taken aback by how neat and efficient he was. it’s a habit that stuck with him from his time in the marines. when he wakes up, it’s always at the same time—without fail. 6 a.m. sharp. no alarm needed.

when he gets up, he slips out of bed, making sure to be as unobtrusive as possible.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[bamfkeeper]

Bamf Who Cried Bamf.

RQ: 'Hear me out: one of the Bamfs gets hurt so you give it a lil extra attention and it just soaks the love straight up. Lookin all smug at the other Bamfs all curled up in your arms and being all snuggly-Next thing you know when you see Kurt and the Bamfs next all the little guys are pretending to be hurt to get special treatment.' - @dinogoofy

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | Warnings: Light description of injuries, I use it/he/they pronouns for the bamfs.

A/N: This is so sweet! I love the little bamfs getting jealous~ But I also like the idea of caring for one and it needing you. Unedited I'm lazy. | WC: 2.8k

The bamfs were unruly most days, their mischievous souls often getting the better of them. They were quite the handful, like terrible toddlers in their behavior and demands for attention, making them even more challenging to manage.

With teleportation powers at their disposal, these little creatures could appear and disappear at any time, often causing chaos in their wake.

Great. Sometimes you forget they can teleport.

Most days, you found yourself playing the role of 'mother hen' so to speak. Kurt often took on the role of playmate, engaging the bamfs in games and keeping them entertained, you were the one who actually took care of their day-to-day needs. This division of labor seemed to work well, with each of you contributing in your own way to the bamfs' well-being. Despite the occasional frustrations, you didn't mind your caretaker role.

As terrible as they could be sometimes with their sudden appearances and disappearances causing no end of trouble, they were equally as sweet in their affectionate moments. Curling up with them felt so natural to you, a comforting routine that brought joy to both you and the bamfs. You loved holding them close, feeling their small bodies nestled against you, and placing gentle kisses on their tiny heads. The soft purrs they emitted during these quiet moments were incredibly relaxing for you, a soothing balm after the chaos of the day.

The current day felt wonderfully lazy, a much-needed respite from the hectic pace of life you and Kurt had been maintaining lately. This afternoon of relaxation was essential, a well-deserved break from the constant hustle and bustle. The bamfs, ever-energetic, were engaged in their usual playful antics, either scampering about the room or deeply absorbed in one of the numerous activities you had provided for them.

You and Kurt had settled comfortably on the couch, your bodies finding that perfect position of relaxation. Kurt's hand moved in a soothing rhythm up and down your back, his touch both comforting and intimate. The gentle caress lulled you both into a state of peaceful semi-consciousness, hovering between wakefulness and sleep. His hand slipping under your shirt to feel your warm skin, soothingly tracing gentle patterns with no direction or meaning.

The serene quiet was abruptly shattered by a resounding bang emanating from the adjacent room. The sudden noise jolted you both from your peaceful reverie, your eyes snapping open in surprise. Your body tensed instinctively as you jerked upright, instantly alert. Exchanging a quick glance with Kurt, you both sprang into action without a word. You swiftly disentangled yourself from Kurt's embrace and the comfort of the couch, your movements mirrored by his own.

As you and Kurt entered the room, you were immediately struck by the sight of several bamfs, their large eyes filled with concern and apprehension. It was clear that something was wrong. Suddenly, the air was pierced by the faint, distressed cries of a bamf. Without hesitation, you found yourself instinctively drawn towards the source of the sound.

Venturing further into the room, your eyes were drawn to movement near a large, ornate dresser. A small, blue figure emerged from beneath it, struggling to free itself. The heavy, wooden piece of furniture had toppled over, trapping one of the unfortunate bamfs underneath its considerable weight. The trapped bamf’s lower body was pinned beneath the dresser, it struggled and pulled frantically, desperate to escape.

You immediately rushed to the bamf's aid, your heart racing with urgency, Kurt was right beside you. Kurt grasped the edge of the dresser and began to lift, the muscles in his arms strained as he raised the heavy furniture just enough to create a small gap. You reached under the dresser and grasped the bamf's small form, pulling the creature out from its trapped position.

The bamf's anguished wails pierced the air, its tiny leg displaying an alarming deep violet bruise and an unsettling twist. Your voice was a mixture of concern and urgency, "Kurt, look at his leg…" You gestured towards the injured limb as the bamf continued to emit heart-wrenching cries against your chest. Kurt's face immediately contorted with worry, his hands reaching out instinctively towards the distressed creature.

"I've got him, liebling..." Kurt murmured softly, his arms gently enveloping the bamf as he carefully lifted it from your embrace. The moment the transfer occurred, the bamf's cries escalated dramatically. Its small face flushed a disconcerting shade of purple as its wails intensified, mimicking an exceptionally irate newborn. Kurt's golden eyes widened in shock, darting between you and the bamf before swiftly returning the distraught creature to your arms.

You instinctively cradled the bamf against you once more, your face a mirror of Kurt's concern. "Shh, sh, it's okay, shh..." you cooed soothingly, your voice a gentle whisper as you began to rock the little one in your arms. Your movements were slow and deliberate, hoping to provide comfort to the distressed creature. The bamf's cries began to soften ever so slightly in response to your tender ministrations, though its injured leg still twitched occasionally, reminding you the poor thing was in immense pain.

"We have to get him to Hank immediately. He can make a small cast for the little one, right?" You asked Kurt with a furrowed brow, your voice laced with concern for the injured bamf cradled gently in your arms. Kurt nodded solemnly, his expression full of worry. You carried the wounded bamf out of the room, heading towards Hank's state-of-the-art laboratory. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the other bamfs followed in complete silence. Their typically vibrant bodies seemed to have shrunk slightly, a physical manifestation of their collective anxiety for their injured companion, perhaps some guilt swirled in their guts, but mostly worry.

Upon reaching the lab, Hank immediately set to work. His nimble fingers and vast expertise allowed him to craft a perfectly sized cast with remarkable efficiency, you expected nothing less from the scientist. The injured bamf, clearly overwhelmed by the unfamiliar situation, alternated between curious glances at the cast and apprehensive looks at his surroundings.

Hank's thorough examination revealed the full extent of the injuries: the little one's leg was fractured in multiple places, necessitating complete rest to heal properly. Additionally, a myriad of bruises peppered its small body, and several other minor fractures were identified. It was clear that the bamf would require an extended period of intensive care and attention, far beyond what was typically needed for these resilient creatures.

You carefully cradled the injured bamf back in your arms, a gentle smile spread across your face, the soft, blue fuzz of the creature tickled your skin. You were more than prepared to provide the extra care and attention this little one would need.

Several days had passed since the unfortunate incident, and a noticeable change had come over the other bamfs. Their usual exuberance had been tempered, replaced with concern for their injured companion. They watched with worried eyes as their weakened brethren spent most of its time resting on the couch in your company. The injured bamf found solace either cradled in your arms or nestled in the cozy nest you had fashioned from cushioned blankets, specially arranged for its comfort.

The bond between you and the injured bamf had grown increasingly strong. It had become deeply attached to your presence, emitting plaintive cries whenever you strayed too far from its side. Your nurturing instincts had fully awakened, and you found yourself constantly fussing over the little creature. You spoon-fed the bamf its meals, ensuring it received proper nourishment, even though it could fully chew and eat on its own. You applied soothing, numbing cream to its sore spots, your fingers moving with delicately avoid causing any additional discomfort.

The days progressed, the sweet blue creature seemed to crave your nearness more and more. It often curled up against you, seeking the warmth and security of your embrace. It bore a striking resemblance to a needy infant, completely dependent on your care and affection. Your instincts were extremely high and you couldn’t help but tend to it like it were your own offspring.

The bamf's condition was steadily improving as time passed. Initially, its movements were tentative and unsteady, but it gradually regained the ability to walk and engage in playful activities, albeit with a noticeable slowness and slight wobble. As the days went by, its progress accelerated remarkably. Soon enough, the little creature was able to crawl with increasing confidence, walk, and eventually run with newfound energy.

Your unwavering attention and care had been solely focused on nurturing the injured bamf back to health. You inadvertently overlooked the growing sense of jealousy emanating from the other bamfs. Their longing gazes went unnoticed as they silently yearned for your affection and attention. Even the injured bamf, who had been the center of your care, began to sense a shift in your attentiveness as its need for constant care diminished with its improving health.

The day finally arrived when the bamf's cast was removed, marking a significant milestone in its recovery. It was exciting for you and Kurt, and a big relief since that meant the bamf was fully recovered. Instead of feeling elated, the little creature was overcome with a wave of sadness. It couldn't help but worry that this meant you would no longer shower it with the same level of care and attention it had grown accustomed to. It gazed up at you with its big, expressive eyes and extended its tiny arms upward, silently pleading to be picked up and held close.

You sighed, knowing it was feeling a bit strange now that the cast was off. You responded with gentle encouragement, "Now, darling," you said in a sweet, soothing tone, "You've got to walk on your leg to make sure it's properly healed and strong." You helped the bamf down from the examination table, gently supporting it as you guided its feet to the floor.

The bamf, still clinging to its desire for continued attention, stubbornly began to walk around the room. Its gait was accompanied by an adorable pout, a clear indication of its reluctance to accept that its leg was indeed healed and no longer required your constant care.

You smiled at the bamf, despite its apparent distress. You reasoned that it was likely just adjusting to life without the cast. It began to slowly engage in play once more, albeit with a noticeable reservation in its demeanor. Occasionally it would emit a plaintive cry in your direction, seeking your comfort. However, Kurt gently reminded you of the importance of allowing it to regain independence. "Liebling, there's no need to coddle it anymore," he explained softly. "Hank said it’s important to let it become accustomed to moving freely now that the cast has been removed. It's just part of the recovery process."

"I understand, I really do," you replied, your voice tinged with concern. "But... just look at him over there. He seems so isolated." Your gaze drifted to where the bamf sat, a solitary figure observing the playful antics of its companions from a distance. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, making it difficult to resist the urge to intervene.

Kurt's expression softened as he followed your line of sight. "I know it's hard to watch," he acknowledged, his tone empathetic yet reassuring. "But try to see it from a different perspective. He's not necessarily sad - he's just... exercising caution, you know? It's a natural response after what he's been through." Kurt offered a gentle shrug, his words aimed at alleviating your worries. "He's alright, truly. There's no need for concern. This is all part of his journey back to full health and confidence." He grinned, his tail curling around your ankle affectionately.

A few days later, you began to notice a peculiar change in its behavior. The small bamf seemed to be constantly in distress, it would cry out frequently, its voice filled with what appeared to be genuine anguish, and it seemed to have become remarkably accident-prone. The bamf would wail and whine, calling for you specifically, its voice tinged with desperation. Your natural response was to rush to its side, gently cradling the seemingly distressed creature in your arms. You'd whisper soothing words, trying to calm its apparent fears and alleviate its discomfort, always ensuring it was physically unharmed.

However, these incidents of minor injuries and emotional outbursts continued to occur with alarming regularity, causing your worry to deepen with each passing day. The bamf's cries for attention grew more frequent and intense, with large, glistening tears streaming down its fuzzy cheeks as you held it close, attempting to provide comfort and reassurance.

Kurt, however, maintained a skeptical stance throughout these occurrences. His suspicions were aroused by the bamf's behavior, which seemed oddly calculated to him.

Kurt found himself crossing his arms, his gaze fixed intently on the bamf. His keen eyes didn't miss the fleeting, but unmistakable, prideful smile that the creature flashed to its fellow bamfs when it thought no one was watching. Kurt realized with growing certainty that those big, heart-wrenching tears were nothing more than an elaborate act – as fake as they were effective.

The bamf had masterfully crafted this performance, taking full advantage of your nurturing nature. You, in your kindness and genuine concern, were simply too caring and empathetic to see through the clever ruse that the mischievous creature had concocted to garner your undivided attention and affection.

Those crocodile tears worked every time.

"Liebling, he's faking it," Kurt attempted to explain, his brow furrowing as he gazed at you with concern. "He's not actually hurt; he's perfectly fine. Have you ever seen any of these supposed accidents?" He inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of skepticism. In response, you found yourself slowly shaking your head, uncertainty creeping into your expression.

"Well, no..." you admitted hesitantly, your own frown deepening as you considered his words. "But you have to remember, he's only recently recovered from a serious injury! There's a possibility that he could be experiencing some lingering effects or complications," you reasoned, your voice filled with genuine concern for the little creature's well-being.

Kurt's expression softened slightly, but the puzzlement remained evident in his eyes. "I'm struggling to understand why he would engage in such behavior," he mused, his gaze shifting to the bamf nestled in your arms. With a gentle but firm tone, he addressed the small creature directly. "Now, listen carefully, little one. This deception cannot continue. I believe I understand why you are behaving this way…you enjoy the attention and care that liebe lavishes upon you, don't you? I must admit, I too appreciate when they tend to me with such devotion." Kurt carefully lifted the bamf from your embrace, and to your surprise, the little creature offered no resistance.

The bamf's large, expressive eyes blinked up at Kurt, a mixture of guilt and sadness evident in its gaze. It then glanced towards you, its tiny features contorting into a remorseful frown. The sight of its drooping ears and that unmistakable pout tugged at your heartstrings, silently communicating that the little creature had indeed understood the gravity of its actions.

"Aww, is that really what's been bothering you? You've been craving attention like you used to get, haven't you?" you cooed softly to the bamf, gently scooping it back into your arms. Your voice was filled with warmth, "Just because I'm not fussing as much, doesn't mean I love you any less, sweet baby."

You cradled the bamf close to your chest, feeling its small body relax against you. "I love you just as much as I always have, even if I'm not able to tend to your every need 24/7 anymore," you reassured, your fingers finding their way to its belly. You began to tickle gently, your touch light and playful. "See? We can still have our special moments," you murmured, watching with delight as the bamf's pout slowly transformed into a happy, toothy smile.

Kurt observed the scene with a sense of relief washing over him. It seemed the troublesome behavior might finally come to an end, which was a welcome development. Leaning in, he affectionately ruffled the bamf's hair, eliciting a small giggle from the creature. "No more crying wolf, you hear little one?" Kurt added with a wink, his voice carrying a gentle note of admonishment and obvious fondness.

"Bamf!"

A sudden noise from the adjacent room caused your heart to race, prompting you and Kurt to rush into the living room. Upon entering, your eyes widened as a sense of déjà vu washed over you along with that urge to nurture, coming back full force. The collective distress of these tiny creatures filled the room with urgency and concern.

You saw all of the bamfs scattered across the floor, their small bodies sprawled out in various positions. They were emitting pitiful cries and mewling sounds, clearly seeking your attention and comfort. Just like the first one.

No obvious cause of injury.

Kurt sighed, his hand moving over his face as he sighed heavily, "Oh, großartig..."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedbylight & @/strangergraphics

Cover Image: Nightcrawler (2014) #5

[redcherrykook]

✰ said you wanna be good but you're beggin' me to come over.

✰ 01 / 2 / 03 / series m list.

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tags: bestfriendsboyfriend!jungkook, boxer!jungkook, cheater!jungkook (not on oc) , oral (male rec), backshots, choking, praise, clit play, hickies, adressing the problem (not really)

note from cherry: shameless two !! Took me ages,, unedited!!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

He smells like bitter cigaretts and a wet dream ripping you out of your slumber with gentle agression.

Especially after knocking out another opponent with gloved cushioned hands, the red running down his nose accentuates his pink lips. They tend to remain with the taste of iron even after the referee lifts his muscular, bruised arm- even after the celebratory hug to his coach, the sweat droplets mixing in as he barely kisses her over the bounds of the ring, like a boyfriend should. But when the lights dim, and Jungkook looks for you between faces he should feel attached to, you stand out with a proud smile, wrap your arms around his figure and whisper a short word of congratulations into his ear.

Unlike her, you don't bother for his stench ruining your lavender perfume, or the fact that his hair is damp and reeks of leather and iron.

You don't wipe your glossed lips with the back of your hand after the sloppy kisses behind the fighters lockers, instead your tongue seeks him out; seeks his blood, his hard work - you honor it, his win, his strength, his sins, his prayers.

"That was for you, i hope you know" he mutters, smearing the dried blood off his roughed up skin as you kiss down his neck, savouring the sloppy, lazy slump his body makes reactively,

"Not for her?" Jungkook hums, runs his hand through his dishevled hair as the sly grin spreads across his busted lip,

"It's never for her baby"

You're not the girl he kisses first when he beats someone in the ring. You're not the song that rips through his notifications when he doesn't call back immediately, or the one he goes on dinner dates with, buys fresh tulips for. You would never be. It's impossible - almost unfair to attempt and shove you in a box of senseless relationships and ordinary life. Youre not, you can never be. Yet, you desire to be.

His heart doesn't race when she looks at him with wide innocent eyes, not anymore- his cock doesn't twitch when her sliver of skin beneath the hem of her crop top shows as it rides up. She's familiar, he's gotten used to the burn in his nose from her gucci flora that invades him with a simple hug, the routine habit of washing his hoodies after every meeting feels colorless, likewise with the words he forgets to feel everytime they run past him, flow out before he registers that he spoke them.

And when he hears his own deep voice lie to her undeserving face, he doesn't care to stop in utter shame anymore, Jungkook's shameless now. You made him shameless.

"Why don't you just leave her gguk" the statement floats heavy between your desire fueled bodies, your hands dig down his shorts waistband, taking his heavy cock out to slap against his ripped abandomen, he groans, finds grounding in the roots of your strands.

"I promised i will, jus' need time..- mhh- fuck" throaty moans rip from his lips that part as yours do, his head leans back into the hard metal of his locker, gazes down to your seated form in between his muscular thighs

"don't wanna think about her when my pretty girl is on her knees for me" you can't help the giggle that slips between kitten licks to his leaking, pink tip, he recriporates it with low hums, threading his fingers through tangles he created. His other large hand makes its way to cradle your jaw between his fingers,

"wider baby, c'mon"

You comply wordlessly, tear open your jaw for him to grab the base of his girth, slap it against your salivating tongue, "gooood girl" he rasps, turning the sound into a delicious moan.

Heat rises to your cheeks, burning down your body to pool in your panties while he thrusts his hips forward, resting himself into your hot, wet mouth, he hits the back of your throat effortlessly- grips the back of your head like he physically needs to feel your nose hit his pelvis and you gagging around his leaking tip.

Jungkook looses himself in the insistant drag of his cock in your mouth- back, forth, bottoming out, gliding back into it. Wires of warm saliva and little vibrating whimpers hug him into the sensations, he feels dizzy from the pleasure, tugs at your hair in an effort to stablize but it's no use,

"just like that- aah fuck baby" he repeats- chants the strom of eroticism and your sensually deep bobbs into words of praise and groans, lets his eyelids flutter, dim the sight of your arousing frame until all he can do is feel- feel so much at once, that he fails to warn you as the tight rope snaps,

It runs down your throat, creamy and slightly salty and somehow you still swallow every drop jungkook allows you to have, let it drip on your swollen bottom lip when he retracts his flaccid length from your warm mouth.

"Such a good girl, need to get your little pussy filled don't you?" he mutters, already having found the small of your back in his hands, draped you over the bench so your rear would point up to him- show your all to him. His long, tired fingers run along your wetness, stimulate the throbbing button that makes you shrierk- makes you grip the bench with your chipped nails.

"mhh, so wet f'me. My pussy, gonna give it to you sweet thing. Fill that needy little hole"

Jungkooks teeth graze your shoulder for a brief moment, his cock stands tall in the grip of his palm as he rubs it against your entrance, teasing, testing how loud he can make you beg for it- for his ego, for his validation, he does it for all that, but mostly to please you. To ascend your youthful scheme into something flourishingly adolescent with the seemingly only thing he could bring himself to give you. With orgams, his lips, his hands, his cock, his needy groans. All, into something that grew up, grew old, grew stable. Something that, akin to a relationship, stands on footing with ingrown, woven roots.

The feeling that surged in him when he first indulged into your seduction continues to grow aswell- seek his knowledge that he's the one making you cum, he's the one thats filling you with every inch of his cock, watching your pussy stretch around him, take it all. Your siren like, rotten sweet moans confirm his every suspition, deny his every doubt with every repetito of his name that tumbles down your tongue,

"fuck- jungkook right there - h-aah- oh god fuck, fuck"

"mhm.. i know doll.. s'fuckin tight for me"

His eyes practically gleam while watching you- you were just so beautiful, so sexy- bend over just for him, with your spine glistening, his fingers digging bruises into the flesh of your ass- the repeated, sexual noise of his hips slamming into you, his cock plunging in your drenched cunt that sounded so much like love, it felt dangerous

The way he grabbed you by the neck- never stopped to think twice as he pulled you into his uncontrollably raging body- moved in deeper, synced your high pitched cries with his guttural noises, none of it was remotely safe- and while he knew he shouldnt suck on your neck, bite into your skin where everyone would see- jungkook was an animal. Sucked, licked, dug until your neck was decorated with his borderline purple claims, threatening to rock into you so far he'd bruise your cervix

"m'gonna come so hard- ohh fuckk kook"

You, exhausted, blissed, drinking in every deep thrust of is- felt every suck on your neck- couldnt help but fall into his perfectly set trap like a unknowning doe. Succumb to his thumb that reached around to hastily circle your clit, you cry for him- let him know how good he feels, how your body belongs to him.

Because you, are far from a helpless little doe. You- although he was well aware, craved him. Wanted him. Need him too deeply to care- to consider how someone you loved was going to fall into specs, you desired to own jungkook. To the untrained, naked eye, this is all superficial perversion, lack of dignity.

It was disgusting to wash yourself of his traces, disgusting that you would miss his reminder on your body, disgusting that you grew in love with knowing- he doesn't fuck her like this.

Even more disgusting, filthy even, that fucking him was all you had- and the sole thought made your stomach churn in possessive anger.

And in this very moment, in the midst of melting yourself, watching each other bloom through sloppy thrusts and half annunciated pleas, he gave himself to you- all he gave himself premisision to- once again.

"aah- shiit.. filled you up so goddamn much- lookkk at thaaat.. fuckk.."

The spoken words stretch, short gasps leave your lips while you spasm from loss of contact. He rubs your cheeks, spreads them to watch his cum slowly drop out of your weeping cunt, presses a wet kiss to the leaking entrance to know how it would taste like if he got what he truly wanted - what he was afraid of. Like the shadow of it hadnt been cast for a long time , the unity between your bodies, reaching its daggers further into your vulnerable beings.

"Where did you get those from?" she asked- hushed, with a smirk on her face after youve watched her unwrap her arms around her boyfriend, who, hid the matching pieces to her little puzzle under his shirt.

"A dude from the club. He was.. a bit passionate, i guess" you giggle at her, innocently flash your smile with burning glances to the man behind her, who is paying to mind to you, engaged in conversation with a mutual friend.

"Mhm, damn" she pauses, letting herself soak in a tiny second of sorrow, leans into you a bit, continues- "you know, i kinda miss having sex"

"What? He still doesn't..? Its been a bit"

your heart excelerates, steadily drums pride into your bloodstream, you dont show- instead, your lips contort into a small pout, your trained hand rubs her arm as she sighs in consideration,

"No.. i do feel like.. i don't know its stupid but.." she trails of, biting her lip conflicted.

"No, no tell me. Im sure its not stupid"

deep breath in, as she exhales, it sends a shiver down your spine,

"I kind of.. i dont know, i think he might be cheating on me"

[marsdql]

morning angel [L.HS]

( 🪽 ) ──── hee who can’t help but have morning wood when sleeping next to you .. smut, established relationship, some pwp .. explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, morning sex, size!kink praise!kink & pet names possessiveness & dominance(dom!hee), begging & desperation, mild choking(broski js holds ok get it periodt), overstimulation, breeding!kink, soft aftercare .. wc : 1654 @teddybeartaetae | I am so not proud of this but hee you guys go! (Lol get it)

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ───

The first thing you feel every morning isn’t the sun streaming through the curtains or the warmth of the blankets wrapping around you—it’s him. Heeseung. More specifically, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the solid weight of his arm draped over your waist, and the unmistakable hardness nudging against your lower back.

It happens every single morning without fail. And every single morning, it drives you insane.

He doesn’t seem to care much about it. He always wakes up with morning wood—it’s just part of his body’s routine. But for you? Feeling it against your soft frame first thing in the morning sends a deep, aching need pooling between your thighs.

Even worse, last night had been no different from any other night. He had already taken care of you, stretching you out so perfectly, whispering sweet words against your flushed skin as he ruined you over and over again. You never slept without it—he made sure of that.

And yet… here you were. Needy all over again.

A soft whimper leaves your lips as you subtly press your hips back against him, your fingers clutching the hem of his oversized shirt draped over your tiny frame. The shift in pressure makes Heeseung grunt low in his throat, his grip on your waist tightening for a moment before he lets out a sleepy sigh.

“Again, angel?” His voice is thick and husky from sleep, tinged with amusement but mostly laced with affection. His lips brush against the back of your ear, making you shiver. “Didn’t I wear you out last night?”

You pout, shifting again so you can glance up at him with wide, glossy eyes. “I need you…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, soft and delicate, your fingers curling into his hand.

Heeseung sighs, a deep, indulgent sound, before pressing a lazy kiss to your cheek. His big hand slides down to your thighs, gripping the soft flesh as he easily maneuvers you onto your back, caging you beneath him. His dark eyes drink you in—how tiny you look beneath him, how your lips tremble in anticipation, how your legs already part for him instinctively.

“You’re such a spoiled little thing, you know that?” He murmurs, thumbing at your cheek before trailing down to wrap around your throat—not to squeeze, just to hold, just to feel how small and fragile you are beneath his touch. “My pretty baby… always so needy for me.”

You nod, already breathless as you grasp at his wrist, your voice syrupy sweet. “Only for you…”

Heeseung smirks, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, possessive kiss.

“Good girl.”

The moment Heeseung’s lips press against yours, you feel yourself melt into the mattress beneath him. His warmth, his scent—everything about him makes your body buzz with anticipation. You whimper against his mouth, fingers reaching up to cling onto his biceps, your tiny hands barely able to wrap around the firm muscle.

Heeseung chuckles into the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at you. His voice is still thick with sleep, deep and raspy. Dangerous.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh, spreading you open as he settles between your legs. “So needy first thing in the morning. You can’t ever get enough, can you, baby?”

You shake your head, lips trembling. “No… can’t… I need you, Hee,” you whimper, gripping tighter onto his arms. His biceps flex beneath your fingertips as he cages you in, his toned chest brushing against your soft curves.

Heeseung hums in amusement, dipping down to press slow, teasing kisses along your jaw, down your neck, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. “You need me so bad, huh? But I gave you everything last night… stretched you out so nice, filled you up just the way you like,” he muses, his free hand toying with the hem of your oversized shirt—his shirt.

You nod desperately, shifting your hips up against him, feeling his hardness press against your soaked panties. “Still need you… I always need you,” you breathe out, voice sweet and airy, practically begging.

Heeseung groans at your words, his patience wearing thin. His hand moves between your thighs, fingers brushing over the damp fabric of your panties. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as he feels just how wet you are.

“Soaked already?” He teases, sliding the thin material to the side. He drags his fingers through your slick folds, making you whimper and squirm beneath him. “You’re so easy to please, angel. Just feeling me in the morning gets you this worked up?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps even tighter, your nails pressing into his skin. “Please, Hee,” you whine, voice small and desperate, thighs twitching around his hand.

Heeseung groans, clearly enjoying how needy you are for him. He nudges your head to the side, kissing down your throat as he slides his fingers into you, curling them just right, making you let out a soft, high-pitched moan.

“God, I love how tiny you are,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dripping with hunger. “Love how you take everything I give you. My perfect little girl.”

Your breath hitches at his words, and you buck your hips against his fingers, desperate for more. “Want more… need you, please,” you mewl, your hands shaking as they squeeze his arms.

Heeseung groans at how wrecked you already sound, at how your delicate little body is already squirming beneath him. He pulls his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss, but before you can protest, he’s already pushing down his boxers, letting his cock slap against your thigh.

Your eyes widen, and your breath stutters as you feel the heat of him against your sensitive skin. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you always feel so small beneath him. Heeseung notices, and a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Too big for you, angel?” he teases, rubbing his tip against your soaked entrance.

You nod, gripping his arms even tighter, your nails digging into his skin. “But I want it… please, Hee,” you beg, your voice trembling.

Heeseung groans, gripping your waist as he pushes in slowly, watching the way your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting in a breathless moan. “That’s it, baby… take it like a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours.

Your body trembles beneath him as he stretches you open, the slight burn mixing with the overwhelming pleasure. You cling onto his biceps, your tiny hands squeezing the firm muscle, nails leaving faint crescent marks against his skin.

“F-Full,” you whimper, legs wrapping around his waist as he bottoms out, his tip pressing against the deepest part of you.

Heeseung groans, his breath warm against your lips. “I know, baby… you’re so tiny, always so tight for me,” he mutters, voice strained as he tries to keep himself together. “Always take me so well, though. Such a good girl.”

Your eyes flutter open, glossy and dazed, your lips quivering as you look up at him. “Move, please…” you whisper, voice sweet and delicate, making Heeseung curse under his breath.

He starts slow, rolling his hips into you, making sure you feel every inch of him stretching you open. Each deep thrust sends a wave of pleasure through your body, making your grip on his arms tighten even more.

“F-Faster,” you whimper, arching your back, pressing your chest against him.

Heeseung groans at how desperate you sound, and he obeys, snapping his hips harder, faster, driving into you so deeply that you can’t hold back your cries. “You sound so pretty, angel,” he breathes, one hand gripping your waist while the other cups your cheek. “Love hearing you whimper for me.”

You let out a soft sob, clinging onto him for dear life as he keeps thrusting into you, the room filled with the sound of your breathy moans and the sinful slap of skin against skin. Your tiny body jolts with each thrust, and Heeseung watches in awe, his grip tightening on your waist.

“You were made for me, baby,” he groans, dipping down to press kisses against your tear-streaked cheeks. “Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect little girl.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body clenching around him, making him let out a strained moan. “Hee… ‘m close,” you whimper, your fingers digging even deeper into his biceps, feeling the way they flex as he holds you down.

“I know, baby, I know,” Heeseung pants, his movements getting rougher, faster, chasing his own release. “Gonna cum for me, huh? Gonna make a mess all over me?”

You nod frantically, your body tensing as the pleasure builds to its peak. “Y-Yes—! Hee—!”

With one final deep thrust, you fall apart beneath him, your tiny frame trembling as your orgasm crashes over you. Your soft cries fill the air, and Heeseung groans as he feels you clench around him.

“Fuck—” Heeseung grits out, his pace faltering as he buries himself deep inside you, his own release spilling into you, filling you up just the way you love.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, your tiny body still twitching in the aftermath. Heeseung presses lazy kisses against your skin, murmuring sweet praises as he strokes your cheek.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he whispers, brushing your messy hair out of your face. “My pretty baby.”

You hum sleepily, already feeling yourself drift off in his arms. “Mm… love you, Hee,” you mumble, curling into his warmth.

Heeseung chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. “I know, angel. I love you more.”

[lexiputellas]

"The Space Between Us," from the Broken Vows series.

The scent of vanilla lingers on your skin as you smooth lotion over your arms, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of your bedroom.

The clock on the nightstand reads 9:36 PM. Alexia’s still not home.

You know where she is—her calendar said she had a photoshoot today. She didn’t mention it, didn’t text to say it might run late. You only know because you check, because you still care.

A sound from the front door catches your attention.

You know the rhythm of her arrival by heart.

The shuffle of shoes being kicked off—never in the right place, yet somehow always appearing neatly in the closet by morning. The familiar jingle of keys landing in the bowl. The soft rustle of fabric as she shrugs off her coat, placing it over the arm of the sofa instead of hanging it up. You’ve asked her a hundred times to bring it to the bedroom instead, but some habits never change.

She used to laugh when you nagged her about it. Used to press a kiss to your forehead and say, "Lo siento, amor," before distracting you with her hands on your waist, her lips on your neck.

Now, there’s only silence.

You set your lotion aside and make your way to the bathroom, falling into your nighttime routine. Cleanser, toner, serum, eye cream, moisturizer, retinol.

Alexia used to tease you about it. Once, she asked why you spent so much on skincare. Is La Prairie expensive? Yes. But so is trying to look younger, prettier, wanted.

She appears in the doorway as you are lost in thoughts, already undressing, moving around you without a word.

No, hey, I was looking for you, baby.

No playful touch, no kiss on your shoulder as she passes. Just a small, absentminded peck on your forehead.

"Hi," she says, before turning toward the shower.

You swallow, setting down your moisturizer. Fine.

"Hi. How was your day? Your photoshoot?" You ask because you still care, even if she doesn’t ask about yours.

Alexia pauses, brows pulling together slightly. "What photoshoot?"

Your stomach twists. "The one on your calendar."

For a second, something flashes across her face—Guilt? Annoyance?

"Oh, right. I forgot. Good. It was for Nike," she says, turning the water on. "I don’t know if the campaign’s coming out anytime soon, though."

"Why not?"

"Something about the shirts being released later, I think."

"Oh."

You nod, pressing your lips together as you watch her. Her toned stomach, strong legs, the way she looks the same as when you met. Maybe you should start going to the gym again. You used to love it. You used to love going together.

But Alexia’s already stepping into the shower, and the conversation ends there.

You finish your routine in silence and slip into bed, the sheets cool against your skin. Alexia follows a few minutes later, her hair damp, the scent of her body wash lingering in the air.

She slides under the covers beside you, her back turned, scrolling through her phone.

You shift closer, letting your hand trace along the curve of her stomach.

She doesn’t react.

Your fingers skim higher, your touch soft, searching. You press a kiss behind her ear, your lips lingering.

She used to love this. Used to shiver under your touch, turn to you with a lazy smile and pull you closer.

Now, she just exhales sharply. "Not tonight."

Your hand stills.

Something tightens in your chest.

"Lately, it's never tonight," you say, trying to sound lighthearted, but the words betray you.

Alexia sighs. "I'm tired, amor. It’s been a long day."

You force a small nod. "Yeah… me too."

She lets out a quiet scoff, shaking her head as she turns onto her side. "Yeah?" she says, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Long day of what? Ordering more skincare? Taking Nora to school?"

It’s said like a joke, but it isn’t funny.

You let out a quiet breath, looking at her—really looking at her.

The woman who used to bring you coffee in bed just because she wanted to see you smile. The woman who used to call you on her way home just to ask how your day was. The woman who used to pull you into her lap, nuzzle into your neck, tell you she couldn't imagine falling asleep without you in her arms.

Where did she go?

When did she stop seeing you?

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to nod, to smile as if it doesn’t hurt.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Something like that."

Alexia hums, already turning away, her back facing you as she pulls the blanket over her shoulder. Just like that, the conversation is over.

You stare at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her breathing slow.

Once, she couldn't sleep unless she was holding you.

Now, she barely even touches you.

Your fingers curl into the sheets, your chest hollowing out, aching.

You turn onto your side, facing away from her, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes.

You won’t cry.

Not over this.

Not when you’re not even sure she’d notice.

[that-one-p00k1e]

─────〃★ lover ೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

✧ summary: random headcanons of them w/you ft. Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Jo Togame, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, & Hayato Suo

✧ content: fluff, sfw, gn!reader, established!relationship

✦ a/n: Currently and devastatingly struggling with writing hrhrgherghegrghrgrhg

— Haruka Sakura often denies it, but he craves for your touch. When he felt how warm it was to be embraced by you, how good it felt when you rubbed his head – he couldn't help but long for more. He's never good with physical touch and didn't know the comfort of receiving it, given how no one ever provided him such privilege in the past. Until you came to his life and started sprinkling him with such blessings, he considered allowing himself to indulge and let his guard down for once.

— Hajime Umemiya is soft spoken almost no matter the situation. He'd talk to you in the gentlest tone that leaves your heart swooning and melting, his voice alone able to bring you a sense of reassurance and ease. Even if he was experiencing negative emotions, never will he raise his voice at you. Instead choosing to convey his discomfort and issues through patience and a slow approach, making sure not to scare you and start an argument. And thankfully in the end, all disagreements in your relationship end in harmony and full understanding <3

— Jo Togame very much enjoys the idea of lazy dates. Sleeping in and just cuddling with you in bed are enough ways for him to spend time with you. It's ten times better if it was raining and the atmosphere became chilly– his urge to snuggle up under the sheets with you reaching its peak point. You both would order takeout instead of going through the hassle of cooking, and he'd occasionally ask you to feed him as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder from behind. Especially after a rough fight prior, resting in your embrace made him feel like he was healing and recharging faster.

— Ren Kaji cares more than he shows himself to be. Despite the nonchalant and aloof exterior he puts on, he's willing to go through the effort especially when it comes to you. He pays attention to your likes and dislikes, going out of his way to satisfy your wants and needs. Once, you rambled on about how badly you wanted to attend an upcoming festival but couldn't due to school work. That afternoon, you came home to a group of Furin boys standing outside your door along with Kaji, claiming to help you finish whatever homework you had to free your time for the festival.

— Mitsuki Kiryu goes through a healthcare routine to take good care of himself. And what better way to do that routine if not with someone you love and adore? He'd often bring you to his house to do his skincare with you as well as his haircare; introducing you to products that are more suitable for you and teaching you ways to take care of both your skin and hair. If you're already familiar with all of it, you'd trade products and try each other's healthcare routine while playing video games together.

— Hayato Suo always keeps his consumption at bay, considering his undergoing diet. Therefore, he'd often be in the giving end when it comes to sharing food with you. He'll give you his chicken skin when eating fast food, he'll hand you his bread that was given by the bakery. But his only exception– is if the food was made by you. He may restrict the amount of calories he consumes, but whenever you give him a homemade goodie– either baked or heavy meals in general –he wouldn't ever give it away. He knows the effort and love you put into making it, he knows the hard work you went through in preparing such delicacies. For that, he'll always eat whatever you made, no matter the amount of calories it contained.

[clarkeyzzz]

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore. 

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

-------------

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response  " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

[manikas-whims]

Skincare with the LADS Men

inspired by THIS recent text with Xavier where he said we left our pack of face masks in his fridge 🥺

SYLUS

🐦‍⬛ He maintains good skincare and overall hygiene. He's the type who's like “if i’m going out to commit some illegal deeds or kill an enemy, might as well look good doing it. His healing ability helps maintain a better skin as well.

🐦‍⬛ When you find out, you're kind of surprised that he's so well-maintained. And he takes offense that you'd have such low opinion of him just because of his profession. He scoffs. “Your assumptions wound me, kitten. Even the leader of Onichynus cares a little for his appearances.”

🐦‍⬛ Luke and Keiran later on giggle and reveal to you how their boss makes an extra effort to look better whenever you are coming to see him.

ZAYNE

❄️ There's a difference between hygiene and skincare. So just because he's a doctor, doesn't necessarily mean he's good at taking care of himself. Yeah he might take a bath and always put on clean suits but he doesn't really bother much with skincare itself.

❄️ It's not that he cannot do it but he simply doesn't have the time for it due to his packed schedule at the hospital. Almost twice or thrice when you surprise-visit him during his late night shifts, you've found him shaving his stubble at his office’s washroom lol. There are some faint cuts on his jaw and you fuss over them much to his delight.

❄️ His skin and body suffer mostly due to his eating habits. More often than not you've caught him sneaking way more macarons than good for his teeth. Not to mention, he doesn't eat proper meals due to his work.

❄️ “It’s not what it looks like. I'm a doctor. Obviously I know how to manage my health.” He laughs sheepishly because it's not often that he's on the receiving end of scolding, especially from you. You end up having to pay regular visits and watch over him for a while, bringing in full meals as is needed for him.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Thanks to him working at odd hours, eating at odd times, passing out on the couch every now and then that it's expected he'd be careless but he does in fact take proper care of his skin. And it's better than yours. (well ofc his Lemurian genes are partly to thank but he's a fish out of water so he does need to take care).

🌊 He knows his skin is amazing and he'll make a show of it in front of you. Not to make you jealous but because he wants you to praise him for it, call him pretty and handsome. “Come onnn!!” He drawls out. “Admit that I’m way prettier than those idols you're a fan of.”

🌊 Definitely enjoys doing skincare routines with you. Will indulge in manicures and pedicures if you ask, chatting with you all the while. Even recommends certain products that would benefit your skin. And offers to do your facial and massage.

XAVIER

⭐ Canonically isn't concerned with skincare. Even MC is shocked at the fact that his skin is doing so good despite any proper care. Probably the type who uses those “5 in 1” products 😭. Or grabs just any product without much care for the actual ingredients involved. How his skin and hair are doing alright? You have no idea..

⭐ You offer to do his skincare and he agrees because that just means he gets to spend more time with you. Enjoys the sensation of your hands on his face. Melts into a puddle if you wash his hair. You also try fixing some of his eating habits because alternating between cup noodles and meat ain't it. And though it takes a while, you figure out his skin type and help him get his own products.

⭐ You both develop a habit of putting on sheet masks while watching late night movies or playing video games. Sometimes you two just end up lazying around and talking about mundane stuff.

⭐ But even if you set up a whole routine for him, if he stays over at your place, then he's definitely using your shampoo. And if you ask him why, then he smiles innocently and answers, “Oh..it’s not that I am particularly biased to the product. It’s just that I like it when I smell like you.”

» MASTERLIST «

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Chef x Vampire!Reader

A/N: If you like this setting, consider reading about your male maid at the castle too. And, if you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :) . The Laios fan art is because that is exactly how I imagined Chef’s body to look like Warning: Not nsfw, but suggestive. MDNI. Chef calls reader "Madam"

Danger level: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡

_______________________________

Credits: @NGreentail on Twitter/X

~Your First Dinner with Him~

Yandere!Chef who is really oblivious. He has been staying at your castle for a while now and yet, he still doesn’t know that you are a vampire. You did try to tell him on his first day here that food is not substantial for you, but he had politely interrupted you with a “I insist, Madam. Please go rest, the food will be ready in a moment” and even guided you to the living room, by gently pushing on your lower back with his large, rough hand. You were too flustered by the gesture to continue arguing.

Your second attempt was during dinner. You thought about striking when he would go sit down after putting both plates on the table, but, much to your dismay, after that, he remained standing beside you instead. Confused, you looked up (realllllly up. How tall was this guy??) and found him nervously watching you. You were weak to his puppy look. You took a bite: “Hm! It is really good”. A smile broke on his face, his eyes turning into tiny crescent moons. “I am glad you think so, Madam! Please let me know if you have any special requests. I want to properly take care of you”, he enthusiastically, albeit a bit sheepishly, replied. Ugh, his expressions, his demeanor…way too cute. New hobby acquired: eating human food.

~His Favorite Dinner (?) with You~

Yandere!Chef, who you rarely see with a frown, who usually wears that soft and kind smile of his, looks rather uneasy today, some would say even depressed. The truth is: he can’t stand his body. Seeing it in the mirror this morning completely killed his mood. He was not aware of it before, as the change was gradual; however, it seems like he gained weight while working here as your personal chef. A number of his big, hard-earned muscles from years of underground fighting, like his pecs, his abdomen and his butt glutes, currently have a squish to the touch. They aren’t purely solid anymore. His form strayed from bulky to a bit more beefy. 

Why is that a problem? Well, ladies don’t find this attractive. At least, the ones from his village didn’t. He had witnessed it before. Had he stayed there, he would have been the subject of their disapproving and disgusted stares. Even among the regular folks, chubbiness was written off as being lazy and unreliable. You are too kind to think or do something like that, but he doesn't want your politeness, he doesn't want your open-mindedness, he wants your love. 

Lost in thoughts of new workout routines, he doesn’t notice his cut finger until blood starts to drip onto the vegetables. Ah…if he had dog ears, they would have flopped on his head. He already ruined his body, he doesn't need to ruin your dinner too. 

Turning around, it would appear that the person on his mind is right behind him. 

“M-madam! How did you get ther-", which is a very valid question; prior to this, there were no sounds owned by your footsteps nor by the kitchen’s door opening and closing. Yet, instead of answering, you just abruptly…grab his wrist and…put his finger in your mouth? At the contact, the broad-shouldered man makes a little noise. You don’t mind him as you begin to suck the blood out of the injury. 

He is very confused, he doesn't understand why you are doing this. The feel of your tongue on his skin, how you both are standing so intimately close to each other; it doesn’t favor his thinking either. It is actually making him lightheaded. Like is this sensation akin to pleasure that keeps building up the more this situation goes on. He lets out another whimper when your hand slides under his shirt to squeeze at the small fat of his stomach. 

As this snaps him out of his haze, he begins to weakly plead instead, without real conviction, to let go of his hand; he doesn’t want you to get sick. He could easily overpower you, but he can’t get his body to stop trembling. All he can do is bring a shaky hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds that keep spilling out since the feeling from earlier is now more intense, more delightful.   

Before this could escalate, you finally release his finger with a pop. You look up and find your poor chef completely flushed, his eyes unfocused, taking heavy breaths.   

Guess you owe him an explanation, huh?  

~H̶̝̿i̸̭̓s̴͉̿ ̷͉͑b̴̒͜e̶͊ͅs̴̠͋t̶̮͆ ̵̡̀d̴̟́ĩ̷̦s̷͛ͅh̶͍͛ ̵̣̃ ~

Yandere!Chef who now feeds you proper food.

“From which animal is this blood from? It tastes exquisite! I never had something like this before”, you excitedly ask him. 

“Oh, you know Madam, just ventured deeper into the forest than usual”, he answers vaguely.

He doesn’t want to worry you by saying it actually belongs to the rude asshole who pushed you the other day. 

Isn’t that sweet?

…

Drink well, darling

[nymphoatic]

fluff / you and Logan unwind / gn!reader

some sweet domesticity with Logan cuz he deserves a wife and 4 children. got snowed in and wrote this pretty short NJOYYYYY

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

although Logan Howlett adores you whole heartedly and souly, worships you with every fiber of his weary and gruff being, he can't help but be confused by your little routines. your nights of self-care. and how much you put on yourself just to be your most beautiful self.

now is different. it's calm. a Sunday evening of nothing. you sit pretty on the couch, applying lotions and skincare after a shower. orange soaks into the living room with the sun setting. and Logan admires while wiping a wooden spoon from the kitchen. he was put on dish duty after dinner. not that he could ever mind, he's just glad he has a pretty babe willing to feed him. let alone let him anywhere near perfection like yourself. he couldn't help where his eyes traveled.

you were the sweetest thing he'd known. and yet you caught wind of his staring with lazy dish drying with a snort and smile. "what's that look for, hm?" you snip. you're not even afraid to mouth off. he feels light in the chest when you give him that kind of attention.

"makin' the whole place smell like aloe and lavender. pretty overpowering for me." he comments. his sense of smell is one of an animal. he got every single whiff and it punched him in the face. but that lotion you used made your skin so smooth. made you smell heavenly too.

"oh hush, almost done." you mutter and finish up your left arm. the sun was finally tucking itself away and Logan had been done with the dishes and now sauntered over to you. his favorite part of the day, the wind-down.

"you wanna watch something?" he mumble lowly, pressing through a few movies of the streaming service he was still very new to. he never really messed with technology but by god did he know how to pull up a good tool review on Youtube or a live showing of a vintage car show.

"maybe a documentary." you comment loosely, still trying to get comfortable with the blanket arrangement between you two.

"we're not watching the victorian one again." he says with the smallest shake of his head.

"what! it goes the most in depth about Ada Lovelace than any other movie!" you argue, very sudden with your passion. he only chuckles, hand going to the small of your back to soothe you. only then do you perk down, but still oh so ever outward about your thoughts. "it's a good one. the narrator is a lovely lady."

oh he found you precious. tendency to re-watch and all. "well put a pin in it." he says with a fond smile, going through the documentary category. one catches your eyes. 'Disclosed Beasts.' funny name but what you see is the animal you know all too well. a wolverine.

"look!" you're way too joyful of your finding "it's you!" Logan zeros in on where you point, his eyes having some trouble with his age and lack of care of his pupils. then he scoffs. like he hasn't heard that one before

"very funny, bub." he huffs out but his heart grows heavy with how excited you got. what a cute thing he was here with him.

"do that one! we can learn about your cousins!"

"that's not how that works, babe-"

"please! how will i know what they eat?" your chirping makes him sigh. you're not letting this go. he clicks up and presses enter, then play. he'll indulge you. the reward is better though. a big smooch right on his cheek and even better, he can feel your smile. that's what he loves.

"y'better pay attention." his hand gently pushes your head just gently on his broad shoulders to rest. your cheeks press on his cotton white shirt, eyes already heavy with exhaustion. his breathing patterns must've been hypnotic, no man could ever make you fall asleep so quick.

maybe 25 minutes into the moderately okay documentary, you fall asleep learning about how wolverines have a polygamists way of mating with Logan muttering a small "yeah sure". his hands soothe your shoulder and you're out like a light. not before feeling the smallest kiss onto the crown of your head.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

need to bake this man a pie gah damn