#very spoons heavy kinda day

[tj-crochets]

Dragon time!! I should make another dragon

Remember, enrichment is important for baby dragons just like any other creature!

Aka I finished the dragon and we went on an adventure around my mom’s garden

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[haetrack]

tread lightly | lhc

lee haechan x f!reader

wc: 17.6k

warnings: smut (MDNI!), established relationship, sexting, jealously, slight miscommunication, mark is an instigator, quite a few text messages, masturbation, kink discussion, mommy kink, nipple play, handjob, edging, overstimulation, barely there choking, unprotected sex, cockwarming, light exhibitionism, epilogue (kinda), dom!reader, sub!haechan

a/n: this fic has been a long time coming so i’m very excited that it’s out! i would like to thank @ncteez for letting me write a fic based on this post of hers! i hope everyone enjoys reading and let me know if you liked it!

It’s midnight and moonlight seeps through the curtain covered window, covering both you and Haechan. You're laying across his bare chest, your finger mindlessly drawing small patterns on it. You both feel sticky, breaths still heavy, yet no one bothers to get up. You peer up to look at Haechan through your eyelashes and see his eyes closed, with cheeks that are slightly flushed. Although you don’t want to break the peaceful silence of the night, you speak up with, “You take such good care of me.”

His eyes open, which then turn and peer down at you with a shy smile. He lets out a small laugh and wraps his arms around you, successfully entrapping you in a bear hug. You let out a small, “it’s still too hot!” which he ignores, and plants kisses along wherever he can reach. “You know I’m always going to be here to take care of you, baby,” he continues with a smirk, “you took care of me so good tonight, I could only return the favor.”

You playfully push him away from you and lay on your respectful side of the bed, while he sits up and stares down at you. His eyes only show love towards you, something that comes with two years of dating. You reach up and caress his cheek, which he takes as a sign to reach down to give you a kiss. “I hope you do know how much I love you, more than anything ever,” he says a little more seriously.

“Even more than your computer?” you tease.

“Hey! I’m being so serious right now!” he grins, letting you know he’s not genuinely mad.

“I’m kidding,” you say with a laugh, “and I hope you know that there’s nothing and no one else I could love more than you.” You sit up along with him and place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He nuzzles his face along your neck and presses kisses along the soft skin of your shoulder. A few moments pass of you two enjoying each other's presence, you gently ask, “Do you think you’re ready to clean up?” He lifts his face from your neck and nods, “I’ll go get a cloth for us.”

After some rummaging in the restroom, he returns with shorts on and a wet cloth for you. He looks at you, asking for approval to clean you up, and you nod, thanking him quietly. Once he finishes, he tells you to go use the restroom already. You groan out, “I don’t want to, I'm already too comfortable here.”

“I know that you love me so much,” you glare at him, “but I will drag you to that restroom if I need to.” With one last groan, you get up and slowly (and painfully) walk to the restroom. Once you finished what needed to be done, you see him scrolling on his phone, waiting for you. He looked up once he realized you were there, and laughed when he saw you limping.

“Don’t be mean! You did this to me!” You say while poking your finger in his chest. He laughs out loud and brings you down to snuggle against him.

“Don’t care how many times I’ve said this already, but I love you.” He was spooning you, and you felt his words travel past your ear. You don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling at the thought of the two of you. You whisper out into the dark night, “I love you too. Goodnight, Haechan.” With the two of you cuddled up next to each other, you fall asleep, waiting for what the next day brings.

Instead of awakening to the familiar light of the moon, the harsh sun forces its way in, even through the curtains. You check your phone for the time, and despite the fact that you slept late, you’re awake at eight in the morning. This isn’t the worst thing ever, considering the fact you have class a little after twelve, but you decide to lay in bed for a bit longer.

You turn over to see your boyfriend sprawled across your bed, his pillow somehow on the floor. You have always made fun of him and his sleeping habits, and he in turn mocks you for thinking how cute he is in any situation. You turn your attention to him, and once again draw patterns on his chest. For a while, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone while running your fingers along his abdomen, waiting for him to wake up. 

Even though you’re a patient person, you do have things to do today and classes to attend. You have to wake Haechan up. Your gaze falls back to the hand on his chest, and you smirk to yourself. Your finger circles around his nipple and you lightly pinch it. His body suddenly shivers and goosebumps grow on his skin. His body shifts to grab your hand and just to make a point, you pinch his nipple one last time.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth before he turns towards you. He nuzzles his face in your chest and clings onto your t-shirt. He groggily starts with, “Baby… what d’you think you’re doin’…”

You can barely make out what he said, but you still reply with a giggle. You run your hands along his naked back and he just pushes his face closer to your chest. “Wake up, you big baby. The both of us have class soon.”

Haechan mumbles something incoherent into your shirt and you laugh, pulling him away from you. “Tell me what you have going on today,” you ask, hoping this will get him to wake up. 

After a few moments of silence from him, he responds, albeit with his sleepy voice. “I have class later…” a pause, “then Mark wants to hang out tonight with everyone else there, too…” 

“Are you going to go straight to his place after class?”

“...I dunno yet. But I’ll let you know what happens…” he mumbles. He’s clearly trying to wake himself up to talk to you, so you continue.

“After my classes, I think— no, I have to head to the library to work on that lab report I was telling you about,” you sigh.

“The one for Chemistry?”

“Yeah… I think I cried like five times thinking about it,” you laugh, worried for the upcoming deadline. “If you don’t end up heading straight to Mark’s after your classes, you can come with me and study.” You smile, knowing that when he’s with you you both get no work done.

He nods, and you pat his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get ready.”

He groans loudly and he grabs your arm to try and pull you down next to him. As much as your body aches to be back in bed with him, you abstain and grab his hand instead. He curls his fingers into yours and brings your hand to his lips to give you a soft kiss there. You return the favor and press a kiss onto his hand. 

“Will it make you feel better if we shower together?”

He shoots straight out of bed.

After a shower (that may or may not have included some heavy touching) and a breakfast made by his wonderful girlfriend, he begins to make his way out of her apartment. He helps with the dishes by drying and putting them away, all while maintaining conversation with you. You talk about little things, how his professor might be his downfall, and how you might’ve finally found a main in Smash Bros. 

Once you both finish getting ready, you take a quick picture of the both of you to upload on your Instagram story. “Are you trying to show everyone how lucky you are to have the best boyfriend ever in the world?” You scowl at him, and he makes a bunch of weird, high pitched noises and gets close to pinching your cheeks. You laugh and push him away.

“No, but seriously, I have to go now. I’ll see you later?” he asks.

“Yes, please be careful. Also text me your plans after class just so I know whether to wait on you?” 

“Of course, Mom.”

“Hey!”

Haechan makes it to his only class for the day. He’s a bit early, so he finds a place to sit before his class starts. He scrolls aimlessly through his Instagram, which reminds him to look at the story you posted of the two of you. He finds it and stares lovingly at it. You look very cute, and he has to remind himself on how to repost another person's story onto his. He captions it with a “me and the gf 🫡” before posting it. 

He notices his classmates slowly make their ways into class and decides to get up himself. Haechan takes his favorite spot in the auditorium, the middle back rows towards the edge of the aisle. Once he’s settled in, his infamous professor walks in with a smile on his face.

Fuck. Coding.

After an hour of hearing a new coding technique being taught badly, Haechan’s mind starts to wander. What else to think about other than his wonderful girlfriend who takes up all his thoughts. He could never get mad at you, though. Ever since meeting you, he thinks his life couldn’t get any better.

He remembers the day you met those three years ago. You were both freshmen in college, and you both had a mutual friend, Mark. You had apparently made friends with Mark through a shared Rhetoric class while Haechan has known Mark for most of his life. Apparently, Mark had taken you out to lunch after said shared class and Haechan was in the dining hall at the same time. He saw the top of Mark’s big head and made his way over.

What he didn’t seem to notice was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, sitting right across from Mark, munching on her food. The stupid shit he was about to say to Mark was cut off by the sight of the girl, at the sight of you, and he stupidly stood there. Mark catches onto this and invites Haechan to sit next to him, which he robotically takes the offer. 

You introduce yourself to him and offer a handshake. Haechan leaves you hanging for a bit, suddenly all too aware he’s leaving you hanging but his hands are just too sweaty. He quickly wipes them on his jeans and shakes your hand, introducing himself successfully. He’s aware that he’s not the best at meeting new people, but he hopes he can push that aside in order to talk to you.

It works. He feels his shy demeanor melt away, becoming more at ease when he talks to you. Eventually, you both start hanging out without Mark, days spent together learning about one another. He thinks he might literally be in love. What would happen if he confessed? Would you say yes? Would you push him away? He thinks he wouldn’t be able to live without you by his side.

Spoiler alert. He does confess and you said yes. As if you would say anything else. 

Interrupting his thoughts, he feels a buzz come from his phone. It’s Mark.

[markly] 12:20, im gonna head over to campus in a bit and get food

[markly] 12:20, after, im gonna be outside ur class waiting for u

[hae] 12:21, k 👍

Not exactly the person he wanted to hear from, but that will do. He remembers to text you the new plan so you can adjust accordingly.

[hae] 12:21, hey baby im going to marks right after class

[hae] 12:21, wish we couldve studied together 

[my beloved 🫂] 12:22, aww dont worry abt it 

[my beloved 🫂] 12:22, we both know that we wouldve gotten nothing done

[hae] 12:22, laughed at a message

[hae] 12:23, are you still in class baby?

[my beloved 🫂] 12:23, my prof cancelled class last min i was kinda pissed

[my beloved 🫂] 12:23, feeling a lot better now that my bf texted me

[my beloved 🫂] 12:24, more time to think abt u hehe

Haechan smiles at his phone and sends a quick love you before turning his phone off. He tries to pay attention, he really does, but his professor might be quite literally secretly planning on failing him. To save him from his dread, one more buzz from his phone. It’s you again.

[my beloved 🫂] 12:31, sorry for bothering u haechan

[my beloved 🫂] 12:31, cant stop thinking of u

Before Haechan can respond, one picture is sent. You are laying stomach down on your bed, but one thing sets him off. Your tits are almost on full display for him. Covered by a lacy bra that barely helps, he can’t help but feel himself twitch in his pants. Remembering that he is still in this Hell-like class, he quickly shuts off his phone and almost slams it against the table.

He doesn’t pick his phone back up for a good five minutes. He can feel the back of his neck get hot, his cheeks beginning to flush. He’s not sure what to do, so all he can respond to your picture is with a:

[hae] 12:36, fuck

[hae] 12:36, does my baby need me that badly?

He shoves his face in his hands and internally groans to himself. First of all, he’s still in class. Secondly, he can’t even go back and help you because Mark’s going to be waiting on him. Thirdly, he’s trying to will away his boner before he sees Mark to avoid any teasing. One more text is sent by you, something along the lines of i need u, and all he can do right now is ask you not to touch yourself without him there.

He uses that not only as a way to placate you, but himself as well. The only thing in his mind now is how soft and full your chest looked. How much he wants to grope and pull at your boobs. He can feel himself straining against his pants, begging to be touched, begging for you. He tries to focus on the monotonous voice of his professor droning on about how making one mistake can ruin a whole code. While the thoughts of you plague his mind, his professor seems to ruin every good fantasy he’s thought of.

To make matters worse, his professor keeps his students over class time, explaining that the homework must be done right away and be done perfectly. No exceptions. Once he’s dismissed, Haechan tries to see if he can find the nearest bathroom before Mark arrives. Unfortunately, Mark is sitting on one of the chairs outside the entrance, and spots Haechan easily.

“Why does it look like you died then came back to life?” Mark laughs in his face.

“Don’t ask me stupid shit,” Haechan grumbles.

After getting laughed at by Mark (which effectively ruins his mood), they make their way to his apartment. No one really makes a plan of when to hang out, so Mark just tells their friends if they could show up last minute. Everyone always does, because what else would college students rather do than on a Thursday night. Of course, Haechan would rather spend time with you, but he was coerced into hanging out (he’s lying, but it’s always going to be you over them). 

After Mark sends a text to the groupchat saying that him and Haechan are already at the apartment, everyone makes their way on their own time. Renjun makes it exactly when he said he would make it, in about twenty minutes. Jeno and Jaemin make their way in a whopping thirty seven minutes with lazy smiles and snacks in their hands. There’s nothing like an unplanned hang out with your friends to talk about random shit.

“There’s a party tomorrow at one of the frats,” Jaemin slowly starts, eyebrows raising up and down.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna try to drag us to a party that you want to go to,” Renjun groans.

“This should be good news for you, I don’t see any bitches on your radar,” Jeno says, with Renjun immediately motioning to hit him.

Everyone laughs at them, and Haechan points and claps at how red Renjun has gotten. Renjun sends glares towards everyone and splutters to come up with an argument for his own sake. “That isn’t even fair! Why am I the only one getting laughed at when Mark and Haechan are sitting right there!”

“I get bitches, I just keep it to myself,” Mark chimes.

“And I have a girlfriend,” Haechan proudly states.

Jaemin takes a jab at Haechan, “No offense to you, dude, but it still looks like you get no bitches.”

“Okay, first of all,” Haechan yells, and everyone groans before he starts again, “you are all jealous of me and the beautiful relationship I have with my beautiful girlfriend.”

Murmurs of sure and I guess fill the room and Haechan feels the need to defend you. He can’t let his friends tell him otherwise, not when you literally made him hard in class just a few hours ago.

“We fuck and love each other at the same time, so that means the both of us are better than all of you.” 

They all stare at him in silence for what feels like forever. Haechan can only stand there and awkwardly stare back. It’s not that he feels awkward, but why are they making it awkward for him? It’s silent until one voice speaks up. Mark Lee.

“The only thing I can agree on from that whole thing is the fact that your girlfriend is hot. She has a nice pair of tits.” Before Haechan can process what was just said, Mark adds, “I would genuinely call her mommy.”

Instead of staring awkwardly, Haechan is now pointedly staring at Mark in shock and… anger? Firstly, Haechan didn’t even say you were hot in his mini speech but said beautiful instead. Secondly, why is he even staring at your tits? Those aren’t his to stare at? How long has he been thinking that? Lastly, who the hell gets a mommy kink from staring at a pair of tits?

In Haechan’s daze, everyone is either outwardly or inwardly agreeing with Mark. In Haechan’s peripheral, he sees Jeno shake Mark’s hand. Even Renjun is silently nodding along to Mark’s words. Jaemin stares at Haechan, which then turns into pointing and laughing at him.

“Guys. You… What the fuck is wrong with all of you? You all are horrible people, please tell me you’re joking.” Haechan feels quite literally batshit insane at how all his friends just agreed with one another that you’re hot as fuck. What the fuck. Are they all just staring at your tits without him knowing? Do you know? Do they all want to call you mommy?

Mark starts with a smile on his face, “I am so serious,” he stares up at Haechan with a look that feels like it’s challenging him, “I would call her mommy and let her do whatever she wants with me.”

At his words, Haechan feels something… different… settle at the bottom of his stomach. The thought of you doing whatever you wanted, pushing him to his limits, all while calling you mommy. He feels a weight on his chest and he slightly shivers at the thought. God, he thinks to himself, what would you even do to him? 

Jeno laughs at Mark saying, “I didn’t take you to be so submissive.” Mark laughs along with him, “I’m not, but with someone as mommy as her, I would immediately be on my knees if she asked me to.” 

Before Mark can say anything else regarding his girlfriend, Haechan cuts them all off with a That’s enough of talking about my girlfriend's tits for the night. He still has that heavy feeling looming inside of him, thoughts running rampant through his mind.

He couldn’t wait to be back at his apartment.

After toughing it out at the library, the Chemistry report was finished. It might not be your best work, but it’s better than nothing at all. Making your way to your apartment, you reminisce on the day you had. Your class was canceled, you had lunch, another boring class, then the library. You focus on the canceled class, which led you to a wonderful chat with your boyfriend.

No matter how long it’s been in your relationship, Haechan always reacts to a nude so nicely, so desperate. It spurs you on at how much he loves your body, how much he loves you, to the point where he gets so worked up that he needs you right there. Even though he couldn’t act on that today, seeing how reacted on text satisfied that need for you. 

It surprises you how much he’s opened up to you over the course of time. When you had first seen him on that day you had lunch with Mark, he seemed shy. Mark had briefly talked about him before, how he was always screaming in his ear, so seeing him like that confused you. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and when you shook hands, they were clammy.

You knew from that point on you had to have him for yourself. You wanted to see his shy demeanor melt away while he talked to you. Over time, he showed how comfortable he was with you by clinging on to your side, taking you out to lunch, and making a playlist of songs that reminded him of you. This only solidified how badly you needed him.

And you got him. Through a rushed confession, he explained how he didn’t want to ruin what you both had but he had to tell you how he felt. You immediately told him you felt the same way, and the rest was history. You know him like the back of your hand, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He treats you well, like a friend, but with love that never seems to leave. You gave him all that you had, all your love, your body, your mind. He gives you back everything tenfold, and he tells you there could never be a time where he doesn’t love you. Those words show in everything he does with you.

Especially the nights with hushed whispers for only you to hear. Where he takes his time with you, taking off your clothes in a pace that makes sense to him. He kisses you softly, his body on top of yours. I love you, he says. You moan out as he drags his kisses down to your jawline, sucking onto a sensitive spot. He continues to trail down your body with his lips, all while hearing you whine out for him.

“Haechan-” your whimper cuts you off, “please don’t tease me.” 

He’s down by your navel when he chuckles at you. “I wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” He nuzzles his nose to the seat of your panties, your smell taking the last of his self control. “My pretty baby will let me eat her out, won’t she?” 

Who are you to deny him when he asks so nicely?

Your phone dings once you make it home. A text from Haechan. 

[hae] 11:08, i’m making it back to my place soon

[my beloved 🫂] 11:08, i just got back to mine too

[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, hopefully i can see u tomorrow

[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, rest up

[my beloved 🫂] 11:09, i have all day tomorrow to spend w you

[hae] 11:09, yes ma’am 🫡 

[hae] 11:10, love you baby

You send a quick voice message saying Love you too, and please go to sleep early. 

[hae] 11:11, hae loved a message. 

So he didn’t go to sleep like you had asked him to. On the car ride back that Jeno had offered him, he couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. You. Specifically, you on top of him, all while he would be reaching out to you, begging for you.

He’s not even quite sure what a mommy kink entails. It’s not that he’s never heard of it- being chronically online almost forces him to hear that word- he’s just not sure what else you do with a mommy kink. He knows he would be submissive and that he would call you mommy, but what else is there to it?

That’s why once he says goodnight to Jeno after dropping him off at his apartment complex, he doesn’t feel guilty for being curious over such a thing. He doesn’t feel guilty when he rushes to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop and ripping off his shirt. He doesn’t feel guilty in finding a pornsite, typing in mommy in the search bar. He doesn’t feel guilty scrolling through all the videos, feeling himself get hard. 

He settles for a video titled, Mommy Uses Her Sweet Boy Until He Cries. He watches the video, a man with his arms tied to the bed. He begins grinding his hand against the front of his sweats, a woman walks in and starts giving the man a handjob. He pushes his sweats down hastily, whines and whimpers fill the room, his mommy taking what’s hers. Haechan releases himself from the confines of boxers, his neediness beginning to hurt him.

After a while, the video plays forgotten in the background. Haechan is lost in his own thoughts. He wants you to treat him how he usually treats you. Thoughts of you here, in between his thighs, touching him in a way he can’t imagine. As much as he wishes that was real, it wasn't. He’s stuck in his room, pathetically getting himself off to a kink that was just introduced to him. 

He can feel his thoughts melt away, entering a headspace he has never dealt with before. He’s never felt this sensitive while getting himself off. His fist tightens around his tip, which causes him to whimper out. He knew he was more vocal than other people in bed, but he realizes tonight takes the cake. He’s leaking precum, his cock begging to be touched once more.

He manages to open his eyes and refocus on the video. The man in question is currently being edged before the woman brings her hand up to his nipple to toy with him, to which Haechan outwardly moans at the sight. Haechan’s own hand reaches up to his chest and hesitantly pulls at his own nipple. Not realizing how sensitive he could be, Haechan cums on the spot. 

Haechan feels as though he can see himself from the outside of his body in a third person view. The image of him, with spurts of his cum across his stomach, one hand tweaking his nipple and the other going to covering his mouth is engrained at the back of his head. If he thinks hard enough, he can feel you sitting atop his thighs doing all this for him, whispering how good he’s been into his ear, how he must’ve been so eager and desperate in order to cum that fast.

After a few minutes of laying in that spot, ears ringing, harsh breaths evening out, he opens his eyes and thinks. Is he… supposed to tell you what he just did? You both never really talked about stuff like this before, but he can’t imagine just springing this on to you. He cringes at the thought, and hesitantly pulls out his phone. He opens up your messages, and he twiddles his thumbs at the side of his phone.

He looks over to his laptop, the video he had been playing had now ended, the video replaying in his head. He bites the inside of his cheek as he types out to you, deleting the message before retyping it again.

[hae] 12:48, can i ask you something?

The next morning, Haechan wakes up hot and sweaty. He’s not quite sure why, not until he can feel himself throbbing in his boxers. With that in mind, he remembers the dream he had containing the both of you. He can’t remember all the details, something along the lines of you on top of him, taking everything you needed from him. Whatever it was, Haechan feels the need to get off again to the thought of you. 

He does. The thought of your tits in his face all while getting a handjob was enough to quickly get him off. After washing up, he can feel his face getting hot. He hasn’t been this shy at the thought of you since you both first met. Before he can get too into his thoughts, he remembers that he texted you last night. He may have subtly (read: not at all subtle) asked what you thought of a mommy kink. He doesn’t want to read back the texts, knowing that his messages were all jumbled, adrenaline and giddiness written all over them.

He tries not to get too excited at the thought of it. He scrolls through Instagram to distract himself, but one of your friends just posted a picture of the both of you, your pretty face and tits right there for him to look at. He bites his lips, nasty thoughts of you filling his head. He goes to start up one of his games, but ends up staring at the starting screen. All of his thoughts lead back to you. He realizes he's at his breaking point when he's literally waiting for a message from you.

After laying in bed for an hour straight, you finally decide to get up. Fridays are the days you get to relax, meet up with your boyfriend, and do whatever you both want without worrying about classes. You had mutually agreed at the start of the semester to spend Fridays together because both of your schedules allowed for it. There was never a day you weren’t excited for Fridays to come, always happy to see your boyfriend. 

Before you actually get up, you do a quick scan of all your apps. On Instagram, you see that your friend has posted a picture of the two of you, the one that you happened to look super good in. You see that Haechan has already liked the picture, even before you had seen it. You like the post and turn your phone off in order to go and get ready for the day.

You’re not quite sure what it is today, but you feel good. You feel like you could conquer the world with how you look and feel. Maybe it was because of the finished lab report, or maybe just the fact that you’ll be seeing your boyfriend today. If he doesn’t immediately fall to his knees and tell you that you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, then there has to be something wrong.

Speaking of Haechan, you remember waking up to one of his texts last night. He had randomly asked about a kink, a very specific one at that. A mommy kink. When you got his first text, you were scared, heart pounding in your chest from such an ominous message so late into the night.

[my beloved 🫂] 01:02, what happened? i was asleep im so sorry

[hae] 01:02, nothing bad dont worry baby

[hae] 01:03, i was just thinking

There was a long pause between his texts. Even if he said that there was nothing to worry about, you can’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking.

[my beloved 🫂] 01:14, baby youre scaring me please just tell me what you wanted to ask

[hae] 01:16, i got home and i couldnt stop thinking about you

[hae] 01:16, i wanted to ask about something i might be interested in

[hae] 01:16, would you be interested in dominating me?

[hae] 01:16, and me calling you mommy?

You stare at your screen, letting out the breath that you were holding in. On one hand, your boyfriend did not want to break up with you, which came from quickly assuming the worst. But on the other hand… what? 

You weren’t unfamiliar with how submissive men work. Before you met Haechan, you watched your fair share of porn. While most of the contents included what would be considered “vanilla” sex, there were some femdom videos that you watched. You always wondered how it would feel to have someone crying under you, the image of Haechan popping up in your head when you did. 

He must have assumed that the pause in your texting was a bad sign, quickly backtracking and apologizing. It was cute, how embarrassed he got as he tried to change the subject. You can imagine him squirming around in bed, trying to push back his fantasies of you while texting. You interrupt him. 

[my beloved 🫂] 01:24, i wouldnt mind.

Rereading your texts, you realize how badly you need to see him again.

You text him asking if you should both meet up. You both agree on meeting up in the evening in order to get take-out together, spending the rest of the night in each other's presence. There’s nothing more than you could ask for besides being there besides him, the comfort of his presence bringing you more peace than anything else could. 

Even though you were ready for a nice night with him, you prepared yourself. The image of your boyfriend thinking of you, being so interested in being submissive, makes your heart beat a little faster. You bite your lip, wanting to see your boyfriend fall apart under you, wanting to hear his cries. Maybe Haechan has finally rubbed off on you, and you smile at the thought of it.

You spend the rest of the day cleaning up around your apartment, waiting for your boyfriend’s arrival.

Before the sun fully sets, Haechan alerts you that he’s outside. You trot to the door with a smile on your face. It feels like forever since you had last seen him (you fully know it’s been less than a day). When you open the door for him, he’s standing there, gawking at you. You see that his cheeks are lightly dusted pink, his mouth trying to form some words.

When you go to hug him, he feels stiff against your own body before deciding to hug you back. Though you knew that he might act a little different, starting from the picture you sent him to the mommy kink confession, but you didn’t think he’d be like this. It’s nice to see him like this again, and as you move to press a kiss to his cheek, he turns redder.

You both settle in and sit next to each other on your couch. He’s properly talking to you now, but you can see how he’s still a little nervous. In a way, it reminds you of how he acted when you both first met. Shy looks and responses, scratching at his neck, and fidgeting with his hands. You go to hold his hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it, causing him to laugh softly.

You’re not sure if bringing up the texts last night would be any good, you think it’d be better for him to bring it up when he’s comfortable. You don’t want to rush him into anything. Even if you can see how he stares at your lips and chest too hard, you don’t want to start anything he isn’t ready for. You both were here for something else, anyways: food.

“Instead of going to a restaurant, do you want to just go to the convenience store down the street? I’m feeling a little lazy.” Haechan coos at you and presses a kiss to your cheek. You both gather your things to make the small trip to and from. You lock your door and turn to look at Haechan as he reachesfor your hand and holds it. You grin at him, pressing yourself into his side as you walk down the slightly lit up street.

The convenience store is a short trip, maybe only a five minute walk from your apartment. You have a small conversation on your way there over how your day was, his hand still intertwined with yours. But with a stroke of luck, you manage to meet you and Haechan’s mutual friend, Mark Lee. You’re pretty sure Haechan notices him first, and he signals to you of his presence by squeezing your hand tighter. 

You look up, and there’s Mark with a smile on his face, waving at the both of you. What you miss though is Haechan’s reaction to him and how Mark looks at you. Before Haechan greets Mark, he lets go of your hand and opts to wrap his arm around your waist. You snuggle into him, and you can hear him call out to his friend.

“Hey guys!” Mark says with a teasing smile on his face, “Feels like forever since I’ve seen you!” and you laugh at him. It’s rare that you see Mark on his own without a friend by his side, specifically, your boyfriend. You and Mark don’t hang out alone as much as you used to, but you still consider him a close friend. After all, he was the one who introduced you to Haechan. 

After a few words are exchanged, there’s a pause in conversation that you can’t quite decipher. You see Haechan and Mark eyeing each other, sending challenging looks to one another. 

“Alright!” you clap, “Me and Haechan have some cheap food to buy and eat, so we’. See you soon, Markie!” You pat Mark’s shoulder as you walk away and Haechan just nods him off. 

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing… but since when did you call him Markie?”

You roll your eyes.

While eating your food, you had asked Haechan if Mark had finally bothered him back. He just laughed and said He has nothing on me! Allegedly, Haechan had beaten Mark too mamy times at Mario Kart to the point where they had a full on argument over how Haechan was somehow cheating. You let out a confused laugh at his words, and Haechan can only say, “The world still hasn’t realized I’m just too good at everything.”

You flick his forehead. 

“So you weren’t being all shy because of the picture I sent yesterday? Or even what you texted me last night…?” you tease, sensing how he’s more comfortable. He covers his face with one hand while slight embarrassment takes over. He doesn’t look uncomfortable, but you can sense a shift in his demeanor as he takes in your words. He nods his head, sliding his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

You finish eating and a movie is put on. The movie is fine, but you’re more focused on Haechan. Though you wanted to take things slow, you can’t help but stare at him. You don’t necessarily do anything new, but you just need him close to you right now.

You tuck yourself to his side, burying your head into his shoulder. Being a seemingly innocent action, he gladly accepts your touch. Minutes pass, and he hasn’t moved to do anything besides moving his arm to hold you by the waist. Your neediness seems to take over, as you move your hand to his upper thigh. You can feel him jump ever so slightly, a feeling of satisfaction coursing through you.

Your thumb rubs the inner part of his thigh, and you feel his fingers twitch at your side. You know he gets riled up with needy touches, you’re just trying to see if he wants to do anything tonight. You place light kisses along his neck, a soft whine escaping your lips, begging him to do something.

Clearly having enough of your antics, he grabs you by the hips and places you on top of his thighs. His face is flushed, his eyes shyly looking up at yours. Despite all the times you’ve both been in this position before, it feels like the first. A shy, yet expectant Haechan under you, waiting for you to make a move.

You move to press kisses along the moles on his cheeks, Haechan’s eyes fluttering shut and the feeling of your soft lips on his skin. His hands grip tightly on your hips, encouraging you to continue. You move to the middle of his collarbones, a wet kiss pressed onto the mole there. You lick a stripe up to the mole on his neck, and he lets out a choked moan.

You sit back up, looking down to see his face. He looks at you with a look you haven’t quite seen before. He looks… desperate. Not that he hasn’t been desperate to fuck you before, but there’s a different meaning behind his eyes and his touch. You’re almost reminded of yourself, how you might look under him, begging him to fuck you already, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything…” you whisper out, scared to break the tension you’ve created. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He shifts under you, and you feel his erection press into your thigh. You giggle at him, and he shuts his eyes, groaning to himself. He finally moves, suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you directly on top of his clothed cock.

“Been needing you all day,” he stifles a moan when he feels you grind yourself onto him, “wanna feel you, wanna show everyone that you’re mine.” You whine out his name and he pulls you into a kiss. It’s messy, tongues sloppily moving against each other. Drool spills past your lips, and Haechan moves to lick it right back up. Your hands move to grip on his shoulders, needing to be grounded.

You need him inside of you already. You’re sure you’ve stained his sweatpants already, feeling yourself dripping with every motion. He seems too focused on what’s happening now though, feeling too sensitive with how much he’s twitching under you. Your hands move up to his hair to get him to get him to refocus, and he lets out a small whimper. You almost miss it.

He looks up at you like you were the one who made that noise. You laugh hard, “So shy,” his hips buck up, “it’s almost like the first time we had sex again.”

You’re sitting on top of him, laughing about how pathetic he looks right now. As much as he wants to laugh it off and move onto the actual fucking, he feels himself become embarrassingly close to cumming. Thoughts of the night before flood into his head, the image of you sweetly whispering in his ear saying how much you want to fuck him is getting to him.

You look almost identical to how you looked in his head last night, and he can feel himself throbbing in his sweats. It all becomes too much too fast, and he quickly apologizes and moves you off of him. You stare incredulously at the sight of him rushing to your bathroom. You hope you didn’t push things too far, letting him be alone before you ask any questions. 

He feels so lightheaded, a heavy weight placed onto his chest. You laughed at him, made him feel so small and pathetic to the point where he could’ve cum in his pants right there. Reminding himself of what he did last night, he didn’t realize that he’d get a humiliation kink from it too. He wishes you could wrap your hand around his cock and laugh about how perverted he is from getting off to something like that. He can only wish.

For now, all he can think about is getting himself off before he can face you again. In all honesty, he was fighting himself from getting hard as soon as he saw you. You looked good today, and all the image of your chest flashed through his mind all day. How much he wanted to just take you into your room, push you onto your bed, and fuck you until you cry for him to stop.

Another part of him wishes for the opposite. He can’t help but think of you being the one making him cry. He wants to be under you, feel how your body rides him until he’s the one begging you to stop. These fantasies don’t help his throbbing cock. Despite you being seated in the other room, he figures the only thing he can do now is get himself off pathetically in your restroom.

He slides down his sweats to his midthigh, too impatient and embarrassed to go any further. The front of his boxers are wet from his dripping tip, he squeezes himself through his boxers, a soft whine trying to escape his lips. Realizing you’re still in the other room, he uses his free hand to cover up his mouth. Deciding he probably shouldn’t tease himself, he pulls down his boxers.

His dick slaps against his abdomen, flushed and dripping at the tip. He wraps a hand around the base and begins moving. He feels too sensitive just from the feeling of you on top of him, dangerously close already. His hips begin to buck against his hand, everything feeling like too much and not enough. If he could, he’d ask you to come in and help him cum. 

The thought of a teasing smile adorning your face makes a strangled moan come out of his mouth, almost too loud. He can hear you get up from your couch, making your way to your room. He continues to fist his cock, drool slipping out of his mouth and smearing messily against his palm. He feels like a pervert right now, fucking his hand in your restroom.

As if he couldn’t be even more embarrassed, he swears that you’ve stopped in front of your restroom door. The sound of whimpers and soft cries worrying you to where you have to check in on him. He wonders if you’ve put your ear to the door, wonders if you can hear the sounds of him fisting his cock. He can’t help but think if you would call him pathetic, tell him how much he should be lucky that you’re willing to fuck him.

A low moan escapes past his lips and he can hear you gasp on the other side. He hears you run to your room, softly closing the door. You were listening. His body feels numb and strained at the same time. Every muscle tensing, his dick twitching in his palm, begging for release. He imagines you in your room, your thighs squeezing together, getting ready to get yourself off to the sound of your boyfriend getting himself off like a loser.

A familiar feeling sets at the bottom of his stomach, mind going blank from his incoming orgasm. Only thoughts of you fill his mind, his pretty girlfriend being so clueless over his desires. He wonders if you would let him call you mommy right now. At the thought, his body becomes undone. Cum spurts from his tip, shooting all over his stomach and chest. His hand continues to move until it feels too much, having to forcibly stop himself.

He takes a few breaths. He feels gross and sweaty, looking down at himself to see the mess he’s made. He grabs some toilet paper and cleans up his cum. He moves to wash his hands, looking at himself in your mirror. He looks fucked out. His face still flushed, eyes looking droopy. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to approach this, not sure if you both should just talk about it.

All he can do now is sigh to himself, ready to face what you might ask him. He needs to decide on whether he should tell you everything he’s done or push it off until later.

Fuck Mark Lee.

You can hear your bathroom door unclick, nervousness suddenly taking over your body. Haechan must be finished with… what he was doing. You’re not really sure how to feel about it. You know what he was probably thinking of, but you’re not sure why he couldn’t just do it with you. You never told him no, but he was forcibly keeping it from you.

You hear him slowly walk to your door, stopping right before the entrance. After a few seconds, he opens it, not meeting your eyes. You quietly call out his name, which he hesitantly looks up at you. He looks a little shocked, a small blush spreading across his face. You pat a spot next to you on your bed, beckoning him over. He follows, placing himself quite awkwardly next to you.

“Are you… okay?” You ask him.

“I’m fine, I just needed a moment to myself.” He's not looking at you, instead putting his attention to the fingers he’s picking at.

You grab his hand, refocusing his attention on you, “I heard you, in the restroom,” his eyes widen a little, “I thought you were hurt, but I don’t think that’s what you were doing.” You trail off, waiting for him to try to piece together your thoughts. When he gives you a confused look, you continue, “If I was pushing you too hard, or- or rushing you into doing something you weren’t ready for, I’m sorry.”

Once Haechan puts together what you’re trying to say, he immediately denies it. “It really isn’t because of you! You haven’t done anything wrong,” he shouts, “it’s just… I…” You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He gives you one last look before he rushes out, “I just didn’t wanna cum too fast in front of you.”

He shuts his eyes in embarrassment, putting his head in his hands in order to shield himself from you. You have to forcefully stop yourself from laughing out loud. You carefully remove his hands from his face, getting him to look at you once more. You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing along the moles on his cheek. He nuzzles softly into your touch, you can feel the warmth from his face seep into your hands. 

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed,” you chuckle, “it makes me feel good knowing that you found me that sexy.”

He groans when he removes his face from you, “I almost came in my pants because of you,” he places a soft kiss to your thumb, “you did things to me that you don’t even know.”

“Care to tell me what I did to get you so worked up?” You smile, faking innocence in order to hear what your boyfriend thinks about you.

Haechan is silent for a few moments, clearly trying to bring his thoughts together. You try to figure it out yourself. There was the picture, the texts, your teasing. Maybe it had something to do with that interaction with Mark that you didn’t quite understand. Despite all these ideas you’ve come up with, you’re not ready for what he says to you.

“Liked it when… I liked it when you laughed at me.” He mumbles out.

You try not to gawk at him, but it’s damn near impossible to hear your boyfriend tell you that he liked it when you laughed at him. During sex. You laughed at him over how shy he looked, and he liked it? It’s not a mommy kink, but you can assume that’s where it definetly came from. 

“Can you explain… what you mean a little more?” You ask.

“Do you want the story in full detail or a quick summary?” He laughs dryly, clearly trying to push his embarrassment away.

“Do a quick summary for me and I’ll ask some questions at the end.” You answer, sitting up a little more straight.

He sighs, becoming a bit more serious with the conversation. After a few breaths, how sort of lied earlier, something did happen between him and Mark. Mark said something about you which made Haechan think differently. He reiterates how these were really good thoughts, but he was just pissed because Mark thought it first. “Also why is he thinking about you when you’re my girlfriend. Tell me he wasn’t clearly trying to get with you before I met you.”

You roll your eyes, Haechan deciding to focus on the smaller issue. You do like seeing him jealous though, especially since this was his own best friend. You’ll pocket that for later though, refocusing on the bigger issue.

“What exactly did he say about me that made you come to your big conclusion?”

At your words, Haechan begins to blush again. He really is acting like how he did at the beginning of your relationship, you think. He’s not really looking at you, and you try to reassure him that he doesn’t have to tell you if he’s not comfortable. This clearly has been bothering him all day, and you assume that this has to deal with his confession from earlier. 

“He just… he said that… that he would be submissive if he were with you. He said he’d call you… mommy.” He mumbled the words near the end, but you heard him clearly. 

In a hypothetical world where Mark was dating you, he would let you dominate him. So Haechan, probably pissed that Mark was thinking that, thought of himself in that position, and also liked it? You feel warmth spread through your body, thoughts begin to fill your head.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Haechan takes it as a sign of disgust, immediately backtracking. “I know it seems kinda weird, and I’m not saying that we have to do it now! I just-”

You cut him off, “Why didn’t you tell me how badly you wanted it?” He gapes at you, and you’re honestly quite surprised at your own words. You’re not sure what persona takes over you, but you’re filled with the desire to see this different side to your boyfriend.

Remembering a conversation before you started dating Haechan, before you both even hung out alone together, Mark had told you something about Haechan. At the time, it didn’t seem like it would be too important to your relationship, but now, you might see what Mark meant.

“Did you know that Haechan likes it when girls are mean to him?”

You laugh out at Mark’s words, “Why are you airing out his business to me?”

“It’s not not important! It’s just, like, you need to keep this in mind when you talk to him.”

“What are you saying?” You raise an eyebrow at him, sensing what his words mean in regards to you and Haechan’s relationship.

“Well, you’re the meanest person I know, so that means you and Haechan are meant to be together!”

He’s laughing at you, and you playfully yell at him to stop, shoving him forwards. You feel your face heat up before entering the dining hall, wondering if Haechan told Mark that he likes the way you speak to him. You can feel something stir inside you.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that I didn’t know if you-”

“Are you hard?” You cut him off, laughing at how he cowers in front of you. He tries considerably hard to conceal the small whimper that threatens to fall from his mouth, but it slips out. You hear it and smile sweetly at him, “Do you need help with that?”

He nods vigorously and you go to sit comfortably on his lap. He immediately wraps his arms over the expanse of your back, arms moving wildly in order to touch every part of you. You first place a chaste kiss to his lips, then you begin to slowly kiss him. Although he tries to keep up with the slow pace, you can practically feel how impatient he gets. His tongue traces every corner of your mouth, and you can feel drool slipping down past your lips.

When you have to forcibly pull him away from you, there’s a line of spit connecting your bottom lip to the corner of his mouth. You bring a thumb to his mouth to clean him up, giggling at how he looks at you with a daze in his eyes. While you’ve seen your boyfriend look like this before, it has never been quite like this. You set the pace, you have the control, you’re the more dominant one.

“I can feel how hard you are, just from some kissing…” he moans out at your words and you slowly begin to grind yourself on him. His hands instinctively move to grab your hips in order to set the pace, but you pull his hands off of you. “That’s not how it goes. Not tonight.”

He lets out a shaky breath, affected by both your actions and your words. It was somehow so easy for you to slip into this position, while he was the one struggling to tell you what he wanted. The feeling of you resuming to grind down on his dick causes him to whine out, trying to keep his hands at his sides. It feels so different, so messy, so good.

It’s not like you both haven’t been in this position before, but Haechan can feel that he’s extra sensitive tonight. Despite how he came multiple times last night and once more in the morning, everything always feels better when you’re there to help him. 

He hears you whispering in his ear, licking stripes onto his throat. Your hands at some point made their way under his shirt, now lightly making scratches over his abdomen. With all of this combined, he feels himself coming close to the edge. He tries to lightly call out your name, but only small whimpers come out.

You look up at him, “What is it?” You already know that he’s about to cum, his hips subconsciously bucking up into you. The drag of his cock against your panties sends shivers up his spine. He can feel how wet you are, dripping through your underwear and letting him grind easier into you. You smile at him and reach for his hands, guiding them under your shirt and to your boobs. Finally allowing him to touch, he recreates all the images from his head last night.

As if he were a depraved man, he licks all over your chest, not caring how messy it gets. You moan out to him, and he gives you everything you want. You look down at him, his hair ruffled up and his eyes closed, suckling on your skin. He’s rutting into you helplessly, fully willing to cum just like this.

You have other plans though. So when he calls out your name in a high-pitched whimper, you pull yourself off of him. He immediately groans, hands moving to pull you back on his aching cock, but you push him down onto your bed. He looks so fucked out, and all that he’s gotten was a few touched. You smile at him, moving towards him to slowly pull off his sweatpants.

You’ve left him in his boxers, his cock straining heavily against them. You press a kiss to his clothed tip before moving up his body, right back up to his pretty face. His round eyes look up at yours, pupils blown out with lust. You smile down at him, your hand moving to hold his warm cheek. He nuzzles into it while you sneak your other hand down to lightly touch his cock

He lets out a shaky breath, shoving his head further into the pillows. You softly call him, and he focuses back on you. You move to kiss him slowly, kissing him deeply as your hand palms over his cock. You can feel him twitching in your hold, can feel how he pants against your lips. You press into his tip, feeling the patch of precum that’s formed as you scoff at him. He laughs, but is cut off when you go down to his balls.

His hips fuck up into nothing, chasing any stimulation. He’s moaning into your mouth, becoming needier with your barely there touches. He whines out, “N-need more, need you to touch me more.”

“But I already am? I’m touching you, aren’t I?

He nods quickly, “I know, but I just- I need to feel you…”

“My poor baby,” a quiet whimper follows, “I think you should just take what you get.” Your fingers move to circle tightly around his leaking tip, which he takes as a sign to begin humping against your hand. He’s quick, trying to quickly get off from all your teasing. He’s letting out small moans, embarrassed with how good it feels.

You can feel how close he is, his eyes shut, hand gripped onto your side as he incessantly fucks into your hand. He’s whining your name, begging for more, begging for you. With a smile on your face, you pull your hand away from him, watching in awe at how he cries out while fucking his hips in the air. You laugh out increduously, and Haechan has to forcibly grip himself at his base in order to stop himself from cumming right there.

“Can’t believe I get to see you like this… never thought that you’d be into something this dirty before.”

He cries out, shaking his head, “I’m a good boy, wanna be a good boy for you.”

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to help the ache you feel. You shush him, pressing soft kisses onto his lips as he moves to grind against your thigh. You press up into him and you can feel how hard he grinds into you, savoring the friction. He’s lost in pleasure, and you can tell by how his tongue moves lazily against you, cock searching for any relief.

Your hand slips under his boxers, finally touching him like he wants. He softly thanks you, bucking his hips up against the tight hold you have on him. Your thumb circles his tip, spreading his precum around to help the glide of your hand. He whines out, feeling too sensitive from being edged. “Slow down, Haechan.”

He just nods, not really hearing your words. His hips move in time with your movements. Eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed, only thinking about the softness of your hand against him. He needs more, needs to feel all of you on him. He moves to grab your hand, moving it to his chest. He looks at you with hooded eyes, telling you everything you need to know.

You’ve always known how sensitive his chest was, but before you could ever do anything, he’d swat your hands away with a nervous laugh. Now, being here, you circle his nipple, indulging in how he twitches in your hold, body shivering against the feeling. “So sensitive, you’d probably be happy cumming like this, right?”

He nods, subtly asking for more as he arches his chest into you, begging for your touch. You pinch his nipple and roll it around your fingers, Haechan shoving his head into your shoulders to hide the embarrassingly loud whimpers coming out of him. He’s leaking all over your hand, slick sounds coming from where you’re jerking him off. “Are you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

He’s far gone, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he helplessly fucks your fist. He’s so desperate, right now, taking so much from you when you’re giving him so little. You realize that this is what he’s been wanting all day, waiting for you to put him in his place. His hips begin to stutter against you, and you know he’s about to cum. In awe, you whisper out to him, “Are you gonna cum for mommy?”

He lets out a loud whimper, not even waiting for you to give him permission to cum.

You feel spurts of his cum all over your hand, how he bucks into your fist to ride out his orgasm. You help him, gliding your hand over his length until he whines out from the overstimulation. You chuckle as you pull your cum-covered hand away. Haechan watches in interest as you bring your hand to your mouth, licking up his cum from your fingers and swallowing. He groans before pulling you into one last kiss, tasting his cum on your tongue.

You both lay in your bed, your hands caressing his back as he lets out soft breaths against you, pressing light kisses to your shoulder. You both lay there, enjoying the warmth that your bodies are emanating. His breaths are getting deeper, slowly getting lulled to sleep by your touches. You press a kiss to the top of his head, “You did so well for me, Haechan.”

You can feel him smile against your skin as he falls asleep.

There’s been tension in the air.

Ever since the other night, you haven’t been able to keep yourself away from Haechan. No one’s bothered to make a move since then, the only thing he’s offered you are heavy stares and subtle kisses. Even though you’re supposed to be the one dominating him, it feels more like you’re waiting on him. You wonder if all he needed was one fix of you catering to his thoughts.

You didn’t want to beg him to let him dominate you, it should be the other way around. You aren’t sure how to approach it, not even sure how Haechan managed to tell you. It’s not embarrassing, but you don’t want to do something he doesn’t want to do anymore. If he really wanted it, he would’ve told you already.

Throughout the week, you try to signal to him that you’re ready, that you’re just waiting on him. You press kisses along his shoulder while he’s gaming, you rub against him while you’re out, you sit on his lap, hoping for something.

You don’t get it, and you’re sure at this point, you never will.

It isn’t until one day you’re getting ready to go out and eat with him, but this time, Mark has somehow made his way into your plans. You’re not upset with it, but Haechan was trying to usher you away from him. He tried saying that Mark was going to take your food while he wasn’t looking, and would try to make you pay for him, but you roll your eyes at him. Haechan is being too dramatic, but you remember the conversation they had the other night.

He’s jealous. You think you might use his jealousy today to benefit the both of you. 

When you eventually meet up with Mark, Haechan has you tightly around his side, puffing out his chest. Mark doesn’t miss the hold he has on you, ignoring it to instead focus on greeting the both of you. 

If Haechan never told you about their conversation, you would’ve missed the energy between the both of them. It’s at this point where you realize that the weird stares they sent each other a few nights ago match the ones they’re doing now. They’re challenging each other, Haechan making sure Mark won’t do anything out of line. Mark eventually breaks eye contact with him, turning to look at you instead.

“Just wanted to get some food with you guys. I haven’t hung out with you in such a long time,” Mark grins.

“If it weren’t for Haechan, I would still be going out to lunch with you,” you tease, trying to get a reaction out of Haechan. It works, hearing him grumble out intelligible words as he tries to get you both moving. You’re sure Mark wouldn’t actually do anything to impose on you and Haechan’s relationship, probably just enjoying getting back at his friend after so many years. 

It doesn’t feel like that to Haechan though. He can feel his blood boiling watching Mark take all your attention away at the diner. Even if you’re seated right there next to Haechan, all your attention is on Mark, sitting right across from you. He doesn’t know what to do, feeling frustrated that your eyes aren’t on him, your hands not touching him, your mouth on his-

Okay. He has to stop his mind from going in too deep too fast. He tries for about a good five seconds before giving up, all the tension from this week suddenly piling up and becoming too much for him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one pinning you to the bed or the other way around, he just needs you right now. If only Mark wasn’t here, he would’ve dragged you all the way back to your apartment already.

But he can’t, not with Mark practically taking you away from him at this point. All he can do is shove the last of his food in his mouth as he thinks of what to do. He can’t just tell you he’s horny in front of his literal best friend, so the best he can do is place a hand on your thigh. You’re not phased though, conversation still flowing between you and Mark. He takes out his phone, pretending to mindlessly scroll while he rubs his thumb on your inner thigh. 

You don’t seem to mind until his hand trails up higher, your hand suddenly wrapping around his wrist, stopping his trail. You shoot him a quick look, and Haechan sends a smile your way. Your hand moves away while Haechan stares at his still left on your thigh. He gives it a squeeze, feeling how your thigh twitches under his hold. He bites his lips, trying not to get too hasty.

He wants to see how far he can push you until you break, until you pull your attention away from Mark and onto him. He realizes where your line is when he grabs your hand and places it onto his bulge. You push your hand away, swatting at his hands that chase yours. You can see how Mark gives you both a confused look, and all you can do is send him an annoyed smile as you fight with Haechan under the table.

You lean into his ear, whispering, “Do that again and I’ll leave you to cum by yourself tonight.”

Haechan immediately sits up straight.

Mark knows none the wiser of what you just said to Haechan, instead laughing at how he’s shut up so fast. You continue talking with Mark as Haechan sits there quietly, his cock hard and straining against his jeans.

Before Haechan knows it, he’s shoved against your apartment door as you kiss him, hands threaded in his hair as he whines out to you. “Shouldn’t even be doing this to you,” you murmur against his skin, “you were being so bad earlier.”

“I would’ve been nice if it weren’t for Mark taking away all your attention,” he huffs out, already out of breath from your ministrations.

So that’s what this is all about, you think. You pull lightly on his hair as you suckle on the mole of his neck, earning a small whimper. The shy and embarrassed Haechan from before is gone, taken over by a desperate and needy Haechan. His hands find your hips, groping at the flesh as he takes what you give him. “Needed you so bad, you don’t even know.”

“I could tell, you were practically begging me to fuck you in the diner.” He bats his eyes at you, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on his bulge again. You smile sweetly at him, lightly tracing the outline of his cock through his pants. His head slumps on your shoulder, falling apart immediately with the light touches you give him. You tease his clothed tip, his hips rutting into your hand to chase more pleasure. 

You leave your hand for him to hump against, letting himself fall apart over you. You can feel a small patch of precum form on his pants, swirling your thumb around his tip as he moans out to you. He’s getting to the edge too fast, “Need you to- fuck, mommy, need you to-”

You cut him off quickly, “What was that?”

He looks at you with wide eyes, face flushed and panting as he tries to backtrack. His hands slip from your body as he steps back, trying to explain himself as if you both didn’t already talk about it. You grab his hips and push them flush to yours, “What did you call me, baby?”

Haechan whimpers at the petname, his lips messily pressing against yours as he moans into your mouth. He slots a leg in the middle of your thighs, his hard cock pressing into your upper thigh. “Please, mommy, please fuck me already.”

His neediness is getting to you, feeling his cock hump against your thigh. His voice sounds like he’s almost crying, just from light touching and dry humping. You can feel your own body go hot, moving your thigh up to press harder into his cock. He whimpers out a thank you as he presses harder against you, tongue intertwining with yours.

As much as it’s nice to see him fall apart like this, you’d much rather see him like this when he’s actually inside of you. You move to pry him off of you, ignoring his whines in order to pull him into your bedroom. He messily slips his pants off as he moves to the bed, laying back against your pillows as you watch him. You peel off your shirt and bottoms, sitting at the foot of the bed, eyeing your boyfriend. 

You realize how much you like seeing him like this. He looks so soft, so pliant under your control despite how bratty he was being earlier. You can only assume he’s like this because of how much he loves you, your heart pounding in your chest at the realization. You send a small smile his way, hand moving to cradle his face as he nuzzles into your touch. “I can’t believe how you were hiding this from me, didn’t know how much you needed me.”

He hums along to your words, hand grabbing your wrist as he rubs his thumb along your skin. It all feels sweet, if only it weren’t for how his cock is straining against his boxers. You ignore it, moving to place yourself on top of him, one thigh in between his legs as you kiss him softly. At first, he melts in your touch, taking it all in. In about thirty seconds, you can tell how impatient he’s getting.

You can feel him squirm under you, his cock subtly grinding into your thigh. You continue to ignore him, pressing kisses all over the moles on his face. His eyes are shut, heavy breaths fanning across your face as he tries to hold himself together. You wait for him to unravel, wait for him to beg out to you. You want to know that he needs you.

All it takes are a few more kisses and a few more seconds of him humping your thigh before he gives in, “Just- can you… can you please touch me, mommy?”

His eyelashes bat at you, and you flash a sickly sweet smile at him. You slowly move yourself down, pulling up his shirt to expose his chest and stomach. You kiss all over where you can reach, hearing how he lets out a small whine when you get close to his nipples. “Would my baby mind me touching his chest?”

You place your lips over one, sucking lightly onto his skin. He whines, cock pushing against your stomach as you lick all around. You look at him through hooded eyes, looking at how his arm covers his face as he fights through the stimulation. He can feel how you smile against his nipple while your other hand tweaks the neglected one. It’s all too much and all too little, “Please, need you to touch me already. Need you so bad, mommy!”

“Hmm, but I’m already touching you?” you say messily against his chest, “what more do you need?”

He rubs his hand against his face, realizing that he’s never really begged like this before. His mind feels hazy over how fast you were able to do this for him, make him beg and feel humiliated. You are everything he could have asked for. He sucks in a breath when he feels your teeth brush against him, “Just- my cock. Need to feel you touch my cock. Please.”

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” You move further down, tapping his hip to get him to lift his hips up as you take off his boxers. His cock slaps against his stomach, red and leaking at the tip, now twitching at your attention. You ghost your fingertips over his aching cock, loving how he’s already whining. You wrap your hand over his length, thumb moving up to tease his tip, “Mommy wants to see you cum, do you think you can do that for me?”

He quickly nods, “Wanna cum for you, wanna make a mess all over your hand.”

“I’ve got you, my pretty baby.” You tease his tip with the palm of your hand, spreading around his precum. After a few more whines fill the air, you build a slow rhythm of fisting his length. All the sounds that fill the room are Haechan’s whimpers and the slick sound of your hand on his cock. You press kisses to his thighs, feeling how they jump with your touch. You look up to see him fucked out by just your hand, drool slipping out of the corner of his mouth.

You move your hand faster, watching how his hips fuck up into your hand, needing more than what you’re already giving him. One of his hands trails over his body, stopping at his nipple to squeeze at it. His other hand stops at his mouth, his fingers slipping into his mouth as he moans out to you. You squeeze your thighs together, breath getting heavy from just watching him.

You absentmindly tighten your fist around him, his cock twitching in your hold, “W-wait, I’m gonna cum. Can I cum? Need to cum, mommy, please let me cum!”

You frown at him, “Already? Can’t you hold on for a little longer for mommy?”

At your words, he cums all over the tight hold of your fist. Globs of cum land on your hand and on his stomach all while Haechan’s crying out in relief. You sigh out, thumb rubbing over his tip as he yelps in surprise. He tries to reach over to pull your hand off him, but you stop him, “Mommy wants to see how much more you can take, okay?”

Whines fill the air as you quickly move your hand over his length, cum helping the slide over him. It’s messy, slick sounds mixing in with your laughs as his thighs shake around you. His hands try to push against your own while his hips fuck into your hold. Tears threaten to slip from his eyes, his pretty lips open to let cries out. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” you say, feigning concern as your hand twists around his cock.

“H-hurts, hurts so bad that it feels good! Please slow down… just- just a little more and I’ll cum!”

“Aw, is mommy not doing a good job?” you say, practically mocking him.

“No! Please keep going, wanna cum again!” You can see tears slip from his cheeks, his face flushed as one of his hands tugs at his hair. You pull your hand away when he tells you he’s about to cum, hearing the loud sobs he lets out as you swat away his hands that try to wrap around his length.

“Mommy wants to hear how good of a job she’s doing, won’t you tell me how good I’m doing, baby?”

Haechan cries out when he feels you softly lick at his tip, your eyes staring up at him in a way he’s seen so many times before. It’s different now though, him genuinely crying out for you to let him cum. His mind is nearly blank, thoughts only being of you looking so nice between his legs. “You… Mommy's doing such a good job, making me feel so good. Just wanna cum, wanna show mommy how good she’s doing…”

With one last kiss to his tip, you look at him and smile, “Is that true, baby?” your hand moves to his pulsing cock, “It makes me so happy to hear you say that. Might just have to reward you, hmm?”

He cries out when you start moving your fist against him, one of his hands moving to hold onto yours, entwining your fingers. It’s cute, him needing your hold to reassure him. You move down to suckle at his tip again, catching Haechan off gaurd as he shoves his cock further into your mouth. He whines at the warmth of your mouth, you tutting at him for going out of line.

You quickly jerk him off, wanting to see him cum, needing to see him fall apart. You’re breathing heavily affected by your own boyfriend. “Cum for me, mommy wants to see you cum.”

He lets go at your words, cum spurting onto your fist, helping him ride out his orgasm. His hand quickly stops yours before you can try moving your fist over him again. You chuckle at the sight, moving up towards his face. You press kisses along his tear-stained cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off his face as he comes down from his high. You thread your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp as he sniffles. 

You lean down to his ear, “Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”

“Will you… ride me?” he asks, shyly looking away from you.

You laugh at how cute he is like this, giving him one last kiss before you ask him to undress. He peels off his shirt and boxers, his eyes watching you slip off your bra and panties. He reaches out to you, trying to get you close to him. You smile as you sit right over his cock, sliding your wet cunt over his length. His head pushes back into the pillows as he grinds up into you, savoring the feeling of your slick all over him.

“Mommy’s gonna fuck you now,” a wide grin on your face as you put his tip at your entrance, teasing him as you shallowly let him slip inside you. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his face scrunched up. You place your hands onto his shoulders as you slide down his length, the stretch sending sparks up your spine as you moan out. Even if you’re the one in control right now, it’s still your boyfriend you’re fucking, his cock almost making you lose focus.

His hands shoot up to your sides, holding onto your hips as you experimentally swivel your hips around his length. He’s holding back his moans, biting down on his lips as you bring yourself back up. Your nails dig into his skin, his length filling you up nicely. You look down at him, his eyes trailing up your chest before meeting your gaze, looking fucked out. “Tell me how much you want this, baby.”

He lets out a shaky breath, “Need you, wanna feel you cum around me. Wanna cum in you so bad, wanna fill my mommy up with my cum.”

At his words, you start bouncing on his cock. You watch his face, flushed out as his hands move to hold onto whatever he can. He gropes at your boobs, fingers teasing your nipples. The only noises in the room are his cries, your moans, and the sound of your thighs slapping against his. He’s breathing heavily, eyes watering once more. You realize what’s happening when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, your eyes widening in excitement.

“You’re gonna cum like this? I haven’t even cum yet, but you can’t help it, right? Didn’t know my good boy could be so dirty.”

He cums inside of you, hips moving against yours as you continue to fuck him. You can feel his cum slip out of your cunt, making a mess between your thighs. He’s moaning loudly, his cock softening inside of you. You laugh out at him, “You came so fast, it felt too good, right? I still need to cum,” you pout, letting your hips take over, “you’ll let me cum, yeah?”

You continue to fuck down onto him, feeling his cock twitch despite how much it might hurt for him right now. He’s fucking his hips into yours, crying out at the pain bleeding into pleasure. You rub your clit down onto him, grinding down slowly, “You know, I never thought that you’d ask me to do this. Thought you’d be able to fuck me every single time.”

He nods, not hearing you clearly as he follows your movements, cock hardening inside of you again. His cum mixed with your slick, stickiness all over his thighs as you move on top of him. He’d have it no other way, watching your face, showing him that you’re just as affected as he is. His hand reaches for yours, placing it softly on his throat. He looks at you, eyes begging you to do something.

You let out a shaky moan, feeling his cock twitch inside you when you slightly tighten your grip on his neck. “You’re still surprising me, can’t ever be satisfied with just one thing.”

You tighten your grip, moving your hips faster against him, him letting out little puffs of air. His eyes roll to the back of his skull, a soft whimper leaving his mouth, “I like you so much, mommy. I’d let you do anything to m-me.”

You let go of his throat, nearly toppling over him as you reach to kiss him. He tries to catch his breath between kisses, hands moving to your hips, moving your hips for you as you focus on him. It’s all too much, your love for him and your cunt clenching around him making it much more intense. 

“Wanna cum with you, mommy. Wanna feel your pretty pussy cum all over my cock.”

You nod, whining out to him as you bounce on his cock, tightly sucking his cock into you. Your hands reach his nipples, toying with them, silently begging him to cum already. He kisses you messily, moaning into your mouth as he finally fills you up once again. He ruts his hips into yours, trying to get you to cum. It doesn’t take much, curling into him as your orgasm washes over you, Haechan whimpering out from how tight you’re clenching around him.

You’re lying on top of him, breaths heavy as you recover from your orgasm. You look at him through bleary eyes, hands moving to wipe the tears off of his face. You slip him out of you, his thighs shaking as you do. He’s warm, melting into your touch as you sigh at him, “You did so good for me, baby. You were such a good boy.”

He smiles at you, not saying anything else as he wraps his arms tightly around you, pressing your chest against his. It’s like this for a while, listening to his heartbeat in his chest while he traces patterns on your back. It reminds you of the other night, before this all started. You grin to yourself, realizing just how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like Haechan.

He mumbles out, too tired to properly speak, “You take such good care of me.”

It almost makes you cry in a way. Now you know how Haechan feels, to give someone your everything during sex. It’s honest, your love spilling out in everything you do. You felt like you were able to pay him back for all he does for you when you whine and beg. You whisper out, not trusting your voice, “It’s only because you take such good care of me.”

A few moments pass, and you remember, “How did you know what I was supposed to do during sex? Like, choking and all that stuff.”

His eyes closed in embarrassment, “Well, the other night I kinda… got off to… all these porn videos?” 

You stare at him in amazement. You really are lucky to have someone like him. 

Months have passed since the first time you dominated him.

Your relationship feels almost as if it were new, enjoying how Haechan tells you each of his thoughts. Hours of nonstop teasing him, him whining in your ear to make him cum. Days where he’s pushing your limits, getting off in front of you in order to get your attention. He says he’s willing to try everything that you want, willing to take any pleasure you give him because it’s you.

There is one thing that you want to try.

You know how jealous he gets of Mark when he’d subtly eye you, jealous that someone wants to take his sweet girlfriend from him. Jealous that his best friend was willing to call you mommy. Although he never really brings it up himself, you can tell that he’s quite possessive of you. Nights where he’d beg to cum in you, beg to let everyone know that you’re his proves your thoughts. 

Although you think getting pregnant would be a surefire way to get Mark off your back, you think it might be easier to show him up close. You come up with a plan to let Mark see you and Haechan in a way he hasn’t seen before.

For a week, you deny Haechan’s advances towards you. You swat his hands away when he tries to grope your ass. You wear a tank top and tiny shorts around him. You whine and beg for him and once he shows interest, you ignore him. At first, he thinks being blatantly ignored is kind of hot because, of course, he’s like that. At the end of the week, he outwardly tells you he tried jerking off but couldn’t cum because he needed you to do it. Brat.

You decide to make your move after the week has ended. You text him after your class and ask if you could make a surprise visit. He agrees and you make your way to his apartment. You find him sitting at his desk, playing Overwatch with another person. You greet him and plant a soft kiss on his lips. Before you can pull away, he deepens the kiss, hands pushing your face towards him. You chuckle lightly, “Focus on your game, Haechan.”

“Can’t. Not when my baby looks so good today.” You hear a muted gag through his headset, and Haechan quickly tells his friend to shut the fuck up. You laugh at his antics, his arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling his face into your stomach. You brush your fingers through his hair, and he lightly groans. You untangle yourself from his grip, moving to lay on his bed.

“Who are you playing with?” You ask

“Just Mark. Why?” He responds, a hint of jealousy in his voice when you haven’t even done anything yet.

“I was just wondering…” You make yourself comfortable on his bed. 

He hums, resuming his game with Mark. You scroll through your phone, hearing the occasional swearing at Mark for not playing as good. You watch him from his bed, how focused he is on his game, his shorts showing off his pretty thighs, his fingers that tap against his keyboard. You bite your lip, putting your phone down to slowly make your way to Haechan.

He eyes you, smiling at you right by his side. He pats his thighs, silently asking you to sit on his lap. You happily agree, plopping yourself down as he wraps his arms around his back, waiting for another game to start. You sigh, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as you feel the vibrations in his chest from the chuckle he lets out, “My pretty baby, you look so cute right now.”

Before you can reply, you hear Mark speak through Haechan’s headphones. You can’t hear him clearly, but you do hear your name, which puts a frown on Haechan’s face. Haechan quickly tells him to mind his business, telling him to focus on the game that’s about to start. Haechan made this too easy, you think, relaxing into his touch as he begins his game. There’s words being exchanged, and every time Haechan gets a kill, he happily kisses you.

You think there might be a better reward other than a kiss. As the game continues, you begin to shift in his lap, pretending to get more comfortable in Haechan’s lap. You can hear how his hands stutter against his keyboard, quickly regaining his composure, thinking it was an innocent action. You smile to yourself, your boyfriend trying to hold himself back.

It’s not until you softly grind yourself onto his bare thigh, pressing light kisses on his neck. You can feel how hot he’s gotten, not really knowing what to do. It’s when he realizes that you’re only wearing panties under your shirt that he has to mute his mic to look at you increduously, mouth wide open. You say in a breathy voice, “Need you so bad, Haechan, wanna feel you…”

He whispers as if Mark could still hear him, “B-but, I’m still playing my game… and Mark could hear you…”

You can feel his cock twitch against your thigh, “You can be quiet, can't you? I won’t move, just wanna feel you in me.”

His round eyes look into yours as his hands rub against your thighs. He looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s interrupted by a shout from Mark asking where he’s at. He quickly agrees to your words, pressing a quick kiss on your lips before unmuting his mic, asking Mark to once again mind his business.

You start your ministrations on him, rubbing the tent in his shorts, feeling how his cock grows under your touch. He bites his lips, trying to concentrate on his game, but getting distracted by your touch. He can feel how wet you are on his thigh, mind almost falling apart from how much you’re enjoying this. He shifts his hips once he’s hard, begging you to pull down his shorts.

He lifts his hips, helping you pull them down and seeing how he was wearing no boxers under his shorts. You eye his face, watching the pretty blush form on his face at your realization. You push one side of his headphones off of his ear as you whisper, “Gonna put it in now.”

His eyes move away from his screen as you pull your panties aside, teasing his tip along your slit before putting it at your entrance. You watch as he mouths out a please, his eyes fluttering shut as you slide yourself down his cock. You can feel how his thighs shake under yours as you sit down on him, holding himself back from bucking up into your heat. He can feel how warm and wet your walls are, your slick dripping down his cock.

He’s twitching heavily inside of you, and you have to hold back a laugh from how hard he’s trying right now. He has to stop whimpers from falling out of his mouth even if you’re not doing anything. You swirl your hips a bit, causing Haechan to let out a small whine as he ruts into you. You quickly mute his mic for him, hearing how Mark protests on the other end, “If you get some kills, I’ll start moving. If not, I’ll just sit here waiting for you. Is that alright, baby?”

He nods, lurching forward once more to kiss you messily. You laugh, motioning him to unmute his mic. You press your finger against your lips, reminding him one last time to be quiet. A shaky hand reaches to his mic, quickly answering Mark’s concerns, “It-it was nothing, I just hit my elbow on the desk.”

Another game starts, signaled by Haechan’s fingers against his keyboard. You continue your kisses on his neck, your tongue licking up his neck to his jaw. You can feel him shudder as his cock twitches inside of you. He tries to buck up into you, but you press down on his hips with your hands, stopping his movements. His eyes find yours, practically begging you to do something. You just smile, reminding him about the promise you made with him.

He bites his lip once more as he focuses on his screen, hearing the clicking of his keys. There are jumbled sounds coming from Mark’s end, apparently telling Haechan to hurry up. You can tell Haechan gets frustrated with him as he properly moves up, focusing on his screen to stop Mark from saying anything else. When you hear a ding from his headphones, saying how he’s gotten a kill, you begin to grind down on his cock.

He lets out the smallest whimper, hips pushing into yours as he shuts his eyes, trying to fend off any sounds that might come out of him. He can feel how deep he is inside of you with how slow you’re grinding against him. His hands are shaking, fingers messily moving against his keys. As soon as he starts getting more worked up, you begin to stop, laying forward against his chest.

He wants to start begging for you to move, but with Mark on the other side, he’s scared he might hear him. So he sits there, focusing on his game, trying to get another kill.

“Thought you were good at this game, baby. Making me sit here and wait for you to win,” you say, getting impatient with him. He shakes his head no, and you roll your eyes, “You still have to talk, Haechan. Poor Mark is waiting for you, too.”

Haechan hates how you bring up Mark while he’s literally inside of you. He shifts his weight around, lightly moving you against him. He can feel you clench around him, using every muscle in his body trying not to moan out into his mic. He wonders if that’s what you really want to do, and as he takes a quick glance at you, he sees the small smirk drawn out on your face. He lets out a shaky breath, excitement taking over thinking about what you might do.

After a few more minutes, he can tell how impatient you’re getting. It’s not his fault for missing so many shots, not when you’re tightly wrapped around his aching cock. You press kisses along his skin as your hands trail underneath his shirt, lightly scratching along abdomen. He can feel how you subtly move on top of him, trying to get off along with him.

“Thought you said you were good at video games,” you say a little louder, “if you were, I wouldn’t have to sit here to wait for you.”

Before he can respond, he’s cut off by you placing a hand on his chest, allowing you to sit up. You slide off of his cock, pressing a quick peck on his lips before slamming your hips down onto him. He lets out a loud whimper, hands leaving his keyboard in order to hold onto your sides. You look at his face scrunched up in pleasure, completely overwhelmed by how you’re fucking him.

“Can you tell mommy how good she’s making you feel?”

His eyes look into yours, bleary from the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes. He’s embarrassed and clearly aware of Mark being on the other side. Your hands make their way to his nipples, pinching them harshly, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll leave you here, make you cum by yourself with Mark still on call.”

At the thought, Haechan moans loudly, his words piercing through the air, “Fuck, mommy- making me feel so good! Need you to fuck- want you to- want you keep riding me!”

You can hear a loud, confused sound coming from Haechan’s headphones, but no sign of Mark leaving the call. At Haechan’s words, you put all your energy into riding him. He no longer cares about how loud he’s being, mixtures of whimpers and whines of your name along with the slapping of skin against skin fill the room. 

“Sitting so nicely for me, letting me use you like you’re a toy. You like that, don’t you?” You emphasize your words with a quick tug of his hair, his hips bucking up into yours from the pain. As you try to move your hand away from his hair, he moves to keep your hand there, his round eyes asking you for more. How could you deny him?

“Use me as much as you want. Wanna be mommy’s toy forever!”

Drool slips past his lips, whispering out a messy boy as your thumb goes to the corner of his mouth to clean him up. You move your thumb over his lips, pushing past them and into his mouth. His tongue circles around, his moans muffled around you. You see how his eyes practically beg for more and more despite being consumed by pleasure. You can hear how there’s another game starting behind you, clearly hearing Mark still on call.

“Only I can have you like this, right? No one can fuck me better than my pretty boy.”

He nods, sucking your thumb as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to yours. Tears are welling up in his eyes again, your words affirming every thought in his mind. You know how much he likes to be praised, how much he likes being told that he’s doing a good job. You coo at him as tears begin to spill, your cunt clenching around him tightly to where his hips stutter against yours.

“You’re the only one that gets to see me like this. Isn’t that right, Mark?” Haechan removes himself from your thumb in order to moan out at your words, and you can hear how Mark disconnects from the game and from the call.

“Finally,” you moan out, rolling your hips faster onto Haechan, “he was taking too long to get off the call. Probably wanted to see how good I take care of my sweet boy, hm?”

“Yes! You take care of me so good, can’t believe I’m yours. Wanna show everyone that you’re mine!” He’s thrusting into you quickly, his tip hitting your sweet spot. You can feel how his body is shaking under yours, overwhelmed by you taking everything from him. 

“Now Mark knows that you belong to me, that I don’t want anyone but you,” you say as you lick up his throat. His hips are stuttering against yours, close to cumming inside of you. You take his hand to your clit, trying to get him to get you off. In a whiny voice close to his, you ask, “Wanna cum with you, won’t you let me cum with my pretty boy?”

He can feel himself fall apart under you, the sight of you on top of him, using him for your own pleasure takes over his mind. He’s not sure what you just said, mind only thinking about you. He nods dumbly, fingers moving sloppily against your clit. He thrusts into you, trying to help you cum before him. He can hear your sharp whine as your face buries itself into his shoulder, and feels how your walls clench tightly around him as you cum.

He lightly thrusts up into you, his cum shooting into you as he whimpers and cries out to you. He’s not sure by how loud he’s being, but by how you move to kiss him, he’s sure that he’s being louder than you. Your tongues messily press against each other as you ride yourselves through your orgasms, feeling how he twitches inside of you. You pull off of him, a small whimper from sensitivity slipping out of Haechan.

“You did so good for me… just wanted to show my baby how much I wanted him…”

His tired eyes are filled with love when he looks at you, “Couldn’t have asked for anything more, love how you treat me. I just… I love you.”

You shyly laugh as you move to kiss him, letting all the love you have for him speak for itself. He holds you by your sides, smiling into the kiss as you giggle against him. There’s nowhere more you’d rather be than right here, enjoying your boyfriend and everything he has to offer you.

It’s not until you’re interrupted by Haechan’s phone ringing, making you both groan out. He begrudgingly picks it up, immediately smiling and showing you his phone.

[markly] 11:48, you guys are FREAKS

[markly] 11:48, YOU KNOW I WAS JOKING RIGHT… ABOUT EVERYTHING I SAID…

[markly] 11:48, KEEP ME OUT OF YOUR BUSINESS PLEASEEE 🙏 (or dont)

You smile as you read Mark’s texts off of Haechan’s phone. Your boyfriend laughs into your neck as he puts his phone down, wrapping both arms around you. You don’t think you’d want this any other way.

a/n: GOD. this was so long for no reason but im glad its out... i always wondered how people could write more than 10k but now I Get It. THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @hrts4doie @jenodreamer

[marksbear2]

Hi Bear!!! I hope your doing good and having a nice day. I would like to request a ftm Ghost x top male reader!! I think he will look so pretty overstimulated.

FTM- SIMON GHOST RILEY X MALE READER

Hii!! I didn’t know if you wanted a fic or Imagine so I just made Headcanons so hopefully you don’t mind!!

⚠️Warnings!! Pure smut, ftm ghost, pussy, cunt mentioned, fingering, thigh and pussyjob, trembling. Mentions dom Ghost a few times. Semi like public, anal, and more ETC.⚠️

— He was very unsure about you two having sex. He was a bit nervous but still had his guard up. He was worried that you’ll see him less of a man.

— He soon realized that it was far from the case.

— You easily get him wet, rubbing and pulling onto his clit while rubbing your free hand over his bare stomach.

— In a middle of a meeting you would sometimes bury your hand in between his legs rubbing his clothed cunt to pry an reaction out of him. 

— When he doesn’t feel like having full sex, he’d let you rub your dick up and down on his pussy. He’d squeeze his thighs together and squirm around from you thrusting and sliding your cock against his cunt.

— He’d let out deep grunts and hard breaths whenever your fingering him secretly. He tries not to be loud or draw in attention.

— He loves missionary, he loves feeling your cock pound into him. He likes being forced to look at you while you drill your cock into his cock. It drives him insane.

— He also likes doing it pinned against the wall. He tries to cover himself mouth while you drive your cock deep inside him holding his leg up against the wall.

— The first time you ate him out he was shocked. He began putty when your tongue played with his clit.

— He often doesn’t moan instead groaning and grunting, but whenever you eat him out he’s moaning and whimpering. He’s easily overstimulated whenever you eat him out. He would tug and pull your head closer to his cunt so. 

— The first time he squirted, he did it all over your cock, his mouth dropped during the process as he was moaning from the new found pleasure. You both kinda froze as with the only thing that broke the silence was Simon’s heavy breathing starting at one another.

— You would tie his legs apart and dive your face in his pussy eating it out like it was no tomorrow. He would struggle and squirm around in the restraints as he couldn’t do anything.

— He is very open to trying new things out with you. 

— He would you vibrators and dildos to please himself whenever your gone. He would smell one of your clothes while he rode the dildo.

— His secret kink is that he loves it whenever you two mutually masturbate. He would finger himself matching the pace and rhythm of you jerking off your cock.

— He still likes to be dominant and having control. 

— He’d bounce and ride your cock, he would treat you like his own personal dildo. He would edge you while he rode you pulling himself off your cock every time you were close. 

— He would be very down to fuck you with a strap.

— He would force you to only fuck with your tip. Or whenever he was in a really bad mood you’d only get to fuck his thighs. You’d be like a dog behind him humping and grinding your cock into his thighs. He loves holding power over you with his pussy.

— He would dirty talk and mock you while he held your cock as he pushed himself on and onto your tip causing you to squirm and moan.

— His other secret kink is that he is very into dry humping. He loves the feeling of your clothed hard cock grinding and thrusting into his own clothed cunt.

— He loves the feeling you cum deep inside him. Even more whenever the condom either broke or slipped off.  

— Pulling and tugging on his mask while you fuck him from behind has to be one of his favorite things. Pulling his gear while you pound your cock into him merciless while he either is standing or on his knees.

— He likes taking it while you two are in the spooning. He loves the feeling of your cock pushing into the side of him while your free hand played with his cunt. 

— Accidentally one time while he was riding you, he lost balance and took all of you inside him causing him to let out a deep and primal moan. He usually gets himself warmed up but that time he took all of you inside at once causing him to cum. He squirmed and trembled.

— Whenever you have boner he would rub his clothes cunt onto your naked bare cock. Teasing and humiliating you about your desperate and needy you are.

— You two often going at it like rabbits.

— Him sucking your cock with his mask resting above his nose while he bounced on dildo. 

— He rides your face. He looses himself to pleasure as you dig your tongue inside him. 

— He gets instantly wet whenever you just lay your cock against his pretty pussy. He gets off seeing the size of your huge cock compared to his pussy.

— When he’s too overstimulated he would sometimes cuss you out, especially whenever he’s close to cumming. His accent will get all weak and croaky.

— Whenever you two are in a secluded and hidden spot in a mission you would pull his pants a bit down and thrust your cock inside of his pussy holding his waist.

— He takes it in both holes, so he didn’t react crazy like whenever you accidentally pushed your cock in his ass. He moaned and kept told you to keep moving.

— Filling up both holes with your cum. First his pretty cunt then his other hole. You’d keep going back and forth until he’s leaking out cum from the both of them. He likes being a mess afterwards.

— He would let you fuck him deeply and roughly as he finished up paperwork. It really doesn’t distract him. 

— He gets flustered during aftercare. It surprises you since you two probably just got done doing the most nasty and porn like things. And he only just got shy from you taking care of him. 

THE END

[ventique18]

Papa 🐉 with triplets HCs

When going overseas for official duties, he prefers not to be cooped up in that weird iron bird creature (it's an airplane, hun). So he instead flies to the country in his dragon form. Imagine people's awe when this gigantic, magnificent creature lands gracefully, lowers his head down carefully, and out of his mouth hops not one, not two, but three little dragons. They're so tiny you could swear they're cute little dogs.

He always goes to meetings clad in heavy robes. More often than not though, his mysterious cloak has a peculiar feature: it produces three sets of giggling voices every once in a while, especially when the room goes deadly silent.

Once an hour passes though, three little tykes get magicked out of the cloak like how a bunny hops out of a magician's hat. The wyrmlings like to climb on and off papa's back and munch on his horns. Everyone could only glance in amazement at how strong their Majesty's neck muscles must be to withstand the weight.

The three siblings still have very small wings but would always attempt to fly. 🌸 always almost has a heart attack when they inevitably come crashing down from their disproportionate weight, but 🐉 would save them the last second with his magic. He'd laugh loudly and hug 🌸 to reassure them none of their babies would get into accidents while he's alive.

I say accident because the three would frequently get hurt on purpose anyway. Their parents don't understand why, but one of their hobbies seem to be beating each other up in any way they could think of. 🐉🌸 would often wake up in the dead of the night because one sibling hurled another off the bed, simply because he/she was hogging ���'s chest apparently. 🌸's chest is their favorite snuggle spot.

While 🐉 frankly doesn't have all the time in the world, he strictly employs a 8-5 work hour like a regular person. He doesn't really mind working but ever since he's started a family, he believes this is finally his god-given grace so he'll do it properly. His spouse is very capable in assisting him so they never really had problems with this arrangement.

So he likes to be closer to his babies and feeds them personally while it's still normal. He kinda just force-feeds them mashed food with a spoon in a row though. "Can't you make it more fun? Like, open wide, here comes the flying broom!" "I am simply not a sappy person." "You feed me while saying cheesy shit though..." "I cannot very well say those kinds of things to my children."

When he bathes them, he makes them line up and dunks them into a pool one by one. When they're in their dragon form, he scrubs them with a brush like he's doing laundry.

He hangs them on a clothesline to dry them on a sunny day lmao. "What are you doing to our babies??" "What? They enjoy it." Fair enough, the little gremlins are giggling.

When 🐉🌸 gets one those snazzy refrigerators with a water faucet and ice dispenser in front, the siblings like to sit on top of each other's shoulders so they could steal ice cubes for themselves. Or lap at the running water like thirsty dogs.

Grim has dedicated water bowls all over the place because he finds it hard to pour from a pitcher, and the feral siblings actually prefer lapping from those than go to the refreshments table to fetch a drink. The first time 🐉🌸 saw this, they were so shocked they kinda just stared blankly.

"Are... Are they actually dogs..." "I do not know, at this point." "Did you do this too when you were little?" "We did not have any semblance of a pet so I do not think so." Lilia reveals later though, that 🐉 drank from the damn toilet once.

He likes teaching them all manners of things. He gets a bit too intense sometimes though, what with them failing over and over again on what he thinks to be simple tasks, so 🌸 has to remind him gently that they are not him and shouldn't ever be him. He lets up and smiles. Yes, this is what children are supposed to be.

He legitimately doesn't have any ounce of experience with fatherhood and was suddenly thrust with three, so 🌸 honestly thinks he's a bit clumsy when it comes to taking care of them. Really clumsy and callous, actually.

But when 🌸 chances upon their three babies curled up against him, with him napping soundly and still holding an illustrated book on gargoyles and their history (goodness, he never changes), they thought he wasn't so bad after all.

Thinking harder about it though, what with him carrying the weight of the country while carrying the weight of three chubby babies and a feral cat, he might be the best father ever, after all.

[chaussetteblanche]

Could you write a boyfriend!Kit Connor headcannon? Like what it's like to date kit? I just thought that would be rlly cute (^·^)

thanks so much for requesting !! kinda went off, don’t know how long this is :)

boyfriend!Kit headcannon

- right so i just think that kit would be so boyfriend

- like big sweaters

- gives amazing hugs, where you enter a soft, warm and safe world of clean cotton and sweet kisses

- would hug you so tight every time, wouldn’t ever want to let go

- definitely makes stupid jokes like

- “babe what’s this sweater made of ?”

- “i dunno, cotton ?”

- “no, it’s made of boyfriend material, babe,”

- you’d always laugh, of course

- and he’s just to caring and attentive

- had a bad day ? he’s at your door with take out, ready to spend the evening cuddling and listening to you rant

- period-related cramps ? man is RUNNING, i’m talking Usain Bolt shit, to the pharmacy and buying half the stock of pain killers, pads, tampons before getting you anything you crave

- sick ? he’s got a day off work before you know it, will not let you get out of bed, will spoon-feed you chicken broth and won’t leave your side

- he’s not afraid of you getting him sick, he’s almost never sick

- immune system is UP

- he’ll definitely get you to help him rehearse his lines for any upcoming movies or shows

- loves watching you change voices and facial expressions when you help him

- if you two live together, he’s not taking ANY of the gender roles shit

- man is cleaning up after himself and after you, everything is fair in your household

- he respects your boundaries, your work or your studies

- loves cooking with you but when you don’t, you take turns cooking and cleaning

- ain’t no way IN HELL he’s leaving you to do all the housework

- plus he thinks he looks damn good in that pink apron you have lying around in your closet

- if you’re not living together, he’s still helping out as much as he can

- he’s definitely a little scared of bugs but if you are too, he’ll take it upon himself to get them out of the house

- will NEVER kill a bug

- like sure they’re ugly and you don’t want them inside but that’s not a reason to kill then

- “you can’t just go about offing people just ‘cause they’re ugly can you ? same with bugs, innit ?”

- if you’re not scared of bugs, he’s happily hopping on a chair and waiting for you to get it out

- there have been multiple times where you both spotted a very big spider and just collectively agreed to leave the apartment and come back a few hours later, hoping it would be out of sight

- loves sleeping besides you

- will hog the covers

- like will roll up in them like a burrito

- you have to put blood, sweat and tears into every single inch of duvet you get after he’s rolled up, it’s a real struggle because my man is ASLEEP

- def snores a bit

- not like a loud, grizzly bear snore

- but more like a slightly heavy breathing

- but you don’t mind, it lulls you to sleep

- he fckin loooves the rain and the wind and the snow

- just lives for winter

- as much as he loves the summer (cause you’ll wear less clothes) his favourite is definitely the winter

- you’ll spend most of your time together laughing

- like he’s so funny and unhinged sometimes

- loooves to tease you

- about anything really

- expect anything that he notices you get insecure or vexed about, he’s really sensitive as to not hurt you in any way

- but if you mispronounce a word once, it’s coming up in every single conversation for days

- if he’s taller than you he’ll tease you about your height and will purposefully stand close to you to make you feel smaller

- if he’s smaller than you, he’ll definitely use you as something to lean on

- loves touching you all the time

- a hand on the thigh is usually his go to

- but when you’re walking maybe he’ll have his hand in your back pocket or around your shoulders

- loves kissing you, everywhere

- lips and forehead are his go to, but your temples and your nose he also likes to kiss

- he’s not too big on PDA, but will make sure people know you’re together by, as stated above, touching you in some way

- gives the most intoxicating kisses

- like you need a second to gather yourself after most of his kisses

- neck kisses omggg

- you know that scene in heartstopper when he’s “recharging” on charlie

- def does that every time he sees you + neck kisses

- doesn’t really get jealous because he trusts you more than anyone but will definitely get annoyed if someone isn’t taking the hint

- let’s say someone’s hitting on you at the bar, and you’re been very that you aren’t interested but they’re still insisting, he will come up to you, wrap his arms around you and give you the loudest, sloppiest and dirtiest kiss ever right in front of that person

- will then strike up a conversation, completely ignoring the other person, and will wait for them to leave

- is so invested in your life like everything you do is so interesting to him

- you learnt something in school ? tell him about it. you saw someone you hadn’t seen in a while ? tell him about it. started a new show or a new book ? tell him about it.

- man wants to know EVERYTHING there is to know about you

- he definitely remembers every single you thing you tell him in detail

- you’ll tell him about your favourite kind of salad one day and literal months later, he’ll come back with groceries and will have bought that specific kind of salad

- “i didn’t know you liked this kind of salad,”

- “never had it before, but it’s your favourite, so i bought it,”

- GAH melting

- also communication KING

- like we see in heartstopper, he says all the important shit and i feel like he’d be the same in real life

- you’ve been acting distant ? he’s gently asking you about it, has he done something ? he notices you’ve been stressed, are there any reasons ? he notices you’re not eating much ? is anything troubling you ? frowning at yourself in the mirror ? he’s making sure your alright and feeling beautiful

- overall i just think he’d be so sweet and attentive

- just the best boyfriend ever

- so kit if you read this and wanna correct me on anything, i’d gladly spend a few weeks (months, years, lifetimes) as your girlfriend to write a more realistic version

- i’m serious

- call me

- please

[zepskies]

Hello! I was wondering... kinda cringy but can I request comparing hand sizes with Soldier boy headcanons

Hey love!! ❤️

Aw, it's not cringey. That's actually really cute! Let me see what I can do for you...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female Reader Word Count: 500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only on this one, folks! For some smutty musings on those talented fingers.

Headcanon: The way you love Ben's hands.

You love playing with his hair, slipping your fingers through the soft strands.

But you also love his hands.

Despite the pampered lifestyle he led growing up, Ben is a very tactile person. He likes working with his hands.

You like to catch him when he's cleaning his weapons. He takes them apart and puts them back together expertly. His smooth hands and long fingers glide as they polish metal with a small rag.

You like to watch him try and fail to cook, ultimately burning the eggs. You like the way his hands move quick yet awkward with the wooden spoon scraping across the pan.

(He burns the bacon too. "It's better that way, extra fucking crispy," he grumbles, when you tease him.)

You like the strength in his hands, tempered just for you.

When his fingers brush across your cheek. When they graze your arm absently while something plays on TV. When he comes up behind you and rests a heavy hand at the small of your back. Or when they grip your hips and thighs and ass hard enough to bruise.

When those talented fingers tease you, slipping between your legs and finding the source of your pleasure with ease.

Long fingers slowly dipping inside your wet heat, exploring your inner walls with the practiced patience of a man fully familiar with every part of you.

They know where and how and when to twist and curl, making you utter broken gasps of his name and shudder from deep within.

And Ben gets something he loves: the sound of your voice as you come hard on his fingers, and make it known in his ear...

But sometimes, it's just as simple as laying with him in bed, afterwards, holding one of his hands in yours.

Your fingers trace over each and every one of his, noting the differences of his larger hand in your smaller one. You compare them in your mind: both different versions of smooth, his masculine to your slender. His blunt nails to your longer ones.

One night, you even line up your hand against his, like Tarzan and Jane.

His brows furrow. "The hell're you doing?"

A smile tugs at your lips. "Nothing. You've just got huge hands."

He snorts. "I have a man's hands."

You roll your eyes. Right. But your smile deepens when you bring the back of his hand to your lips. You turn it over and press a sweet kiss into his palm, closing your eyes.

Ben tolerates it.

Or so he'd have you believe.

Really, he just watches you as a tendril of warmth plumes in his chest. His lips hint at a smile.

There are wordless moments when he knows you love him.

He'll probably never tell you out right, but times like these are some of the ones he likes most with you.

They stay in his memory long afterwards. And when the darker ones threaten to cloud his day, he pulls these moments out like old photographs, imprinted on his mind.

AN: Hehe, hope you guys like this one! ❤️

Just so you know, there's a longer SB imagine coming soon (either this coming week or next), and it is ✨Angsty.✨ 😅

I'll probably release an interesting one next. Though the request was a bit niche, I really got into it! So I'm hoping you all will enjoy. It includes reactions from Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben)...

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List:

@melancholictearz @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @lacilou

[luvrbug]

can i request sleep over hcs with any hsr characters?

i tweaked this request into a more "sleeping together" instead of a sleepover. I hope that's okay! (they also kinda turned into cuddling headcanons... oops!)

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

GEPARD

He sleeps on his back arms to his side, completely straight and stiff. Puts a whole new meaning to "sleeping like the dead"

He really loves cuddling, but he's so nervous the first few times you guys cuddle. Sweaty palms, heart beating fast, etc. But he gets used to it after the first few (16) times you guys sleep together!

Lay on top of him!!! it doesn't matter how heavy/light you are, gepard Loves when you just sprawl on top of him and he can just wrap his arms around you <33

you can also just snuggle into his side or just hold hands. Gepard likes to know that you're there throughout the night.

He's a super heavy sleeper but will bolt up once he realizes you're not there 😭 literally gets up and starts searching for u half awake while you're in the bathroom.

He's sooooo warm. His body temperature HAS to be abnormal because he's just so warm!!! Belobog gets absolutely freezing during the night, but you dont even notice when Gepard is keeping you warm :]

His alarm goes off at 4:30 am Every Morning.

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

Sampo

Sampo somehow wormed his way into sleeping in your bed before you even started dating. He loves to get to sleep in his favorite person customer's bed! After all, you do owe him a favor for that one time...

Without a doubt, Sampo is a cuddler. He will lay his entire body on top of you, curl himself into a fetal position with YOU in the middle, he will be the little spoon, the big spoon, he will fall asleep just leaning on you.

And the worst part is his hands and feet are So. Fucking. Cold. His body is warm, but his hands and feet are FREEZING, and he insists on using you to warm them up. No matter how loud you squeal or how many times you scentence him to the couch, Sampo will be using you as his personal space heater.

Sampo is also incredibly loving when you sleep together. Quiet, secluded nights when you're half asleep and sampo has just slipped under the covers is when he shows you his entire heart and soul. His childhood, the friends and family he's lost, his deep rooted fear that one day you'll leave too...

Sampo either wakes up at 1 a.m., and you dont see him again for two days, or he sleeps until 5 p.m., and you absolutely can not get alone time. He's like a stray cat in that aspect.

«────────«⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅»────────»

Dan Heng

Insists that he only likes you as a friend for 3 months while you actively sleep in the same bed and cuddle every night.

Dan Heng absolutely loves to snuggle up to you, BUT he has issues with being seen as weak or getting close to you in general. However, your very soft bed and even softer hugs eventually win him over.

He sleeps with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your chest, over your heart. The fact that you're real and alive, and he can keep you safe, soothes his soul on such a deep level. He gets the best sleep of his life when hes with you.

He can't sleep if you're off on a trailblaze mission alone or if he's not there to protect you. He chugs down Himeko's coffee in the morning to deal with it.

Once you're back, Dan Heng is latching onto you !! you are both taking a nap now. No, he doesn't care that you're covered in dust and dirt. You're coming to the archives and sleeping.

[glimmeringwinchester]

hell house

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — grace winchester has more skeletons in the closet than she and her can fight, and as they race against the clock to find their missing father, slowly but surely everything unknown comes into the light

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) — canon supernatural violence, gore, and themes. mentions of past abuse, ptsd, anxiety, indications of claustrophobia, sickness, john winchester being an absolute asshole. deans a dick (what’s new) but he’s soft with his sister, oc au

Grace Winchester rolls her eyes as she watches Dean reach across the car with a disposable spoon in hand, his smile wide and a little too mischievous as he wedges the thin plastic into their brother's slightly agape mouth. Sam is passed out in the passenger seat, his seat reclined despite the person that sits behind him, and his head is falling slack to the side as he catches up on much needed rest. The days had been long in the seven months that had played out since Dean had pulled them both away from life at Stanford, and instead back to the lives they’d lived before, though not by choice. Grace remembers how long the days used to feel when she was only a kid, but for whatever reason, the last seven months have felt excruciating. She can only sympathize with Sam as she watches him sleep, light colored eyes ghosting across the subtle motions of his breathing – the only indication he’s actually alive up there.

She would’ve found the energy to smile in wry amusement if her head didn’t feel so heavy on her shoulders. Her body is slouched against the door, her knees pulled up to her chest if only to allow Sam the space he needs to sleep, and her head cheek pressed against the window somewhat uncomfortably; though she appreciates the coolness that spreads across her flushed skin too much to adjust her position. Her eyes are glassy, bloodshot and stinging, but she blinks rapidly despite the pain, determined to keep herself awake as nausea pools in her lower belly.

She manages a weak eye roll as Dean finagles his phone into a specific position, peeling his eyes away from the road to snap a picture that will certainly be used as leverage in the next battle over music choice. She barely has the time to prepare for him cranking up the volume, an involuntary wince making her aware of the sudden soreness in her muscles as she leans away from the abrupt sound, unable to deny the way it seems to pierce through her skull like pinpricks.

Sam bolts awake, his eyes wide and panicked for a handful of seconds before he’s batting at the spoon between his lips, a grimace of utter annoyance overtaking his once relaxed expression. Dean couldn’t care less, grinning with pride in the driver's seat as he drums along to the chorus of a song Grace has heard too many times since only last week. He turns his head to Sam, eyes squinted as he beams, though Sam’s not easily amused by Dean’s clear enjoyment.

“Ha ha. Very funny.” He huffs, fixing the position of his seat with one hand while the other reaches for the stereo, turning the music down to an acceptable decibel, though Grace still thinks it's too loud as she barely conceals another involuntary wince.

“Sorry. Not a lot of scenery here in East Texas. You kinda gotta make your own.” Dean apologizes, though both of his siblings know he’s not being the slightest bit sincere. Grace wants to roll her eyes, but a deep and incessant pressure at the front of her temple prevents her from so much as looking to her left.

“Man, we’re not kids anymore, Dean. We’re not gonna start that crap up again.” Sam scoffs, his jaw clenched as he expresses his annoyance, his eyes trailing toward the backseat as he searches for signs of life from Grace, hardly reacting when he finds her curled up into a tight ball, blanket ditched around her ankles, and her eyes closed as she gnaws on her lower lip. He can see exhaustion rolling off of her body – her eyes sunken, her face flush – and so he assumes she’s annoyed, not treading any deeper into that isolated spiral of thoughts.

“Start what up?” Dean, ever the antagonistic older brother, reaches into the backseat, his palm tapping against Grace’s blanket covered ankles in a silent greeting. He can only chuckle beneath his breath when her foot kicks out at him in response, an annoyed huff rolling off of her lips as she curls further toward the seats, just out of reach from his assault should he try again.

“That prank stuff. It’s stupid, and it always escalates.” Sam groans, slapping Dean’s hand when he reaches out for Grace again, his eyes rolling when Dean only shakes his shoulder in admitted defeat, looking entirely too smug about irritating his younger siblings for his own entertainment.

“What’s the matter, Sammy? You afraid you’re gonna get a little nair in your shampoo again, huh?” Grace doesn’t even have to see her brothers to know that one quip was enough to entirely change Sam’s attitude, his ego still bruised from the epic nair prank of 1990. Grace can only wonder how boys never mature past the age of fourteen, unable to believe they’re actually considering rehashing ‘prank wars’.

“All right. Just remember, you started it.” Sam can barely conceal his smirk as he shakes his head, eyes now glancing out the window, watching as rows of lush trees blur together into evergreen flashes.

“Oh, bring it on, Baldy.” Dean smirks, though his eyes flicker to Grace in the rear view mirror, “You in, G?” He sings smugly, only able to laugh in amusement when he receives nothing more than Grace throwing the bird his way in response. She’d never wanted to be part of their prank wars as a kid either, but Dean was never so quick to relent, always effectively dragging her into them whether that be by deception, or simply pranking her anyways.

“Where are we, anyway?” Sam asks, changing the topic as he glances out at the passing scenery.

Dean glances out the window, his face a neutral expression as he assesses the road surrounding them, never able to truly be secure in the temporary safety they find between places. Grace pretends not to notice the fault in Dean’s stoic persona as she shifts in the backseat, tugging off the sweatshirt that’s only trapping in unwanted heat. “A few hours outside of Richardson. Give me the lowdown again.” Dean reaches into the backseat again, although this time his gesture isn’t so playful, but softly he catches his sister's attention as Sam rustles through their current case information. “You should get some sleep. Need you at your best.” Grace wants to remind Dean of all the sleepless nights that haunt their pasts, but instead she nods, finally finding a moment of ease where not every part of her body is aching and churning at once.

She just barely hears Sam begin his refresher when her head lulls to the side, resting just below the leather headrest as she finally submits to the exhaustion that’s been crushing her for hours.

When she wakes, the Impala is parked in front of a record store, and Sam is ruffling through his bag that’s on the floor beside her feet. Grace bats his hand away with an exasperated eye roll, ignoring the wave of simultaneous nausea and dizziness that hits her as she sits up. Her muscles ache at the change in position, and she’s vaguely aware of her shoulder cracking as she rustles through the bag instead, pulling out the worn leather wallet she knows her idiot brother was searching for. Sam offers a bashful smile, his eyebrows furrowing after a handful of seconds as he takes in her appearance, but Grace only shrugs him off, cracking her fingers as she waits for Dean to make the first move, able to grasp why they’re here without the step-by-step break down she knows Sam wants to give her.

“Let's roll, Gracie.” Dean whistles as he opens the door, only acknowledging his younger sister, aware of how Sam wants to roll his eyes in annoyance every time he’s singled out. Grace follows his motions, though unlike her brother who has entirely reframed his mannerisms by the time their doors close in tandem, it takes her a minute to gain her bearings, only managing to deflect the discomfort radiating through her body as she steps ahead of Sam, through the door he’s holding open for her with that same stupid furrow in his eyebrow.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to a vinyl on one of the farthest shelves from the door, and naturally she lets herself float towards it, aware of how Dean and Sam are trailing behind her instinctively, though Dean’s eyes are definitely wandering as he gathers his critiques.

Grace looks up as a young looking guy approaches, a beat up record in his hands that he flips with indifference, his eyes scanning the black and white labels that differentiate the slots on the shelves. She picks up the record she’d been eyeing, effortlessly playing the role of inquisitive customer. “Gentlemen, ma’am, help you with anything?” The man asks, his eyes trailing over Grace an unnecessary second time, though he seems innocent enough as he lingers on the design against her chest. She’s only vaguely aware of the fact that she’d never changed out of her Spice Girls t-shirt, and that she’s holding one of their albums in her hands; definitely a conversation starter when standing in the middle of a music store.

“Yeah. Are you Craig Thurston?” Sam asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he analyzes the employee. Grace turns the vinyl over in her hands, reading over the tracklist as she tunes into the conversation happening in front of her.

“I am.” Craig nods, reaching over the rack as he shuffles through alphabetized slots. Grace can only roll her eyes at the sight, her thought of how boys never mature past puberty coming back once again.

“Oh. Well, we’re reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I’m Dean. This is Sam. Grace.” Grace brings her eyes away from the vinyl at the mention of her name, offering Craig a polite smile as she fights to stay balanced on her feet, even the slightest movement amplifying the dizziness that’s fogging up her senses.

Craig smiles at the information, his posture relaxing as he nods along to Dean’s fabrication. “No way. Yeah, I’m a writer, too. I write for my school’s lit magazine.” Despite his earlier display of reaching over the shelves, Craig peels from his post, stalking around the shelves as he grabs a seemingly sought after vinyl, showing no indication of contemplation as he reaches for the slot and pulls one up.

“Well, good for you, Morrison.” Dean huffs out a laugh, his smile entirely insincere as she gazes down at the vinyls, batting Grace’s arm when he notices one of his favorite bands at the very front, his fascination somewhat amusing as Grace’s lips quirk into a smirk.

“Um, we’re doing an article on local haunting, and rumor has it you might know about one.” Sam sways slightly, appearing hesitant, uncertain even, but both Grace and Dean know he’s anything but. They’ve learned a thing or two in the decades they’ve been doing this job, and one of those things is people are always more inclined to help you out when they think they have an opportunity to gossip or gloat.

“You mean the Hell House?” There’s a certain tick in Craig’s eyebrow that has Grace hooked, her eyes analyzing his movements because she knows her brothers won’t focus so much on the physical. They’ve always focused more on voice inflection, but Grace has always known a thing or two about body language.

“That’s the one.” Dean nods, his smirk almost condescending as he stares Craig down, but the employee hardly bristles, a subtle glint of arrogance in his eyes as he inclines his body just the slightest inch towards Dean, like he’s fascinated, or maybe transfixed, by the things that he knows – or thinks he knows.

“I didn’t think there was anything to the story.”

“So why don’t you tell us the story?” Grace smiles sweetly, her head tilting to the side, allowing her thin hair to spill over her shoulder. She’s aware of how her voice wavered in the middle, and how it feels like hellfire’s tearing through her throat as she swallows, but she makes no indication that anything’s wrong, keeping her eyes fixed on Craig.

“Well, supposedly back in the ‘30s, this farmer, Mordechai Morduch, used to live in the house with his six daughters. It was during the depression, his crops were failing. Didn’t have enough money to even feed his own children. So I guess that’s when he went off the deep end.” Grace tries not to wince at the mention of hungry children, but the grimace that wrinkles her upper lip is a dead give away that it strikes her. Sam doesn’t notice, his interest entirely in Craig, much to her relief.

“How?”

Grace rolls her eyes as Dean sneaks up beside her, throwing his arm over her shoulder as he tugs her into his side annoyingly. She has to fight the nausea that threatens to climb up her throat at his jostling, elbowing him between the ribs as she pulls herself away.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death…so he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop. But he just strung them up, one after another. And then when he was all finished, he turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl who goes inside.” Craig looks entirely too fascinated with the harrowing details of the story, his eyes becoming wide as he loses himself in the details like a kid fascinated by a fairytale. Grace only barely hides her grimace as she continues to analyze his posture.

“Where’d you learn all this?” Dean inclines his head interestingly, squaring his shoulders as he stares Craig down.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don’t know where she heard it from. You gotta realize, I didn’t believe this for a second.” There’s a quip in his tone that has Sam shifting on his feet, and Grace isn’t blind to the way Craig’s fists clench in his pockets, that gleam of fascination slowly becoming a mixture of terror and uncertainty.

“But now you do?” Sam questions, his tone somewhat incredulous though there’s a hitch toward the end that keeps Craig hooked and spilling.

“Guys, I’ll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to god, I don’t want to go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?” Grace understands the fear that becomes fascination all too well, and she offers Craig a sympathetic smile as Dean and Sam lock eyes, the elder of the two extending his appreciation toward Craig before he tapped Grace’s forearm, already beginning to lead the way back to the door.

She wobbles on her feet as she follows after him, looking over at Sam when his fingers ghost across the small of her back, reaching to catch her if she fell. She ignores the questioning look in his eyes, picking up the pace as she aims to catch up with Dean, eager to get away from Sam and his incessant questioning and analyzing.

She breathes a sigh of relief when the cool air hits her as she exits the music store, her flush face seemingly burning as its assaulted by the chilly wind around them, but all she does is deflate at the exposure, temporary relief settling in before she’s rushing into the backseat, not wanting to hold up the boys or raise anymore suspicion than she already has.

Despite how warm she feels, she reaches for the hoodie she’d thrown on the floor hours earlier, knowing Dean’ll grow suspicious if she doesn’t react to the cold soon. For men that rarely pay any attention to minor details, somehow they always pick up on the things that Grace wants to be left alone. She flips Sam off when she catches his eye in the rear view mirror, pleased when she watches his lips quirk into an amused smirk, his eyes no longer so clouded by concern. She hates that lying to them comes so easily.

Sometime later, the Winchesters are trekking through the Tennessee woods, searching for the so-called Hell House that Craig informed them of. The warmth that had once felt suffocating had fully abandoned Grace, and she shivers as she pulls the sleeves of her hoodie over her fingers, trying to keep out as much of the chill as she could manage without her jacket that’s buried in the trunk of the Impala. She looks up questioningly when Dean nudges her shoulder, but soon a grateful smile spreads across her lips as she realizes he’s extending his jacket. She slips it on eagerly, zipping it all the way up to her chin before she’s pulling the drawstrings of her hoodie even tighter, creating a barricade around her face that has Sam laughing.

“It’s not even that cold, G.” Sam rolls his eyes at her dramatics, unaware of the chills that are rolling down Grace’s spine and her arms, or that she’s fighting off a violent wave of nausea that has her practically seeing white from the discomfort.

“Do I need to remind you that women’s bodies and men's bodies interpret temperature differently because of our core temperatures?” She huffs, beyond irritable as she fights off the stinging sensation in her eyes, the burning sensation in her throat, the foggy pounding in her head, and the churning in her stomach. She’d been hopeful that those symptoms were just a result of her exhaustion, but she’s not so sure anymore, though she’s also not willing to admit that she’s sick. Definitely not willing to admit that she’s sick.

“Let’s go, nerd.” Dean only rolls his eyes at her snarky comment, nudging her forward with his shoulder. Grace stumbles on her feet, eyes becoming unfocused as her vision blurs for a second. She fights the urge to grab at her temple, instead keeping her hands in the pockets of Dean’s jacket as she steadies her balance.

Sam frowns, only steps behind her. “Dude, you okay?” He finally brings himself to ask, but all he gets in response is a huff from Grace and an indifferent shrug from Dean.

“Shark week?” The elder Winchester suggests, his expression neutral though there’s the slightest quirk in his lip that suggests he’s a little too smug about the suggestion.

Grace wants to cry in frustration, her eyes stinging with tears she refuses to let her brothers see. Her head is pounding, black spots dance in her vision if she turns her head too quickly, her stomach is in knots, but she refuses to accept that she’s sick. She refuses to even acknowledge the possibility. Instead, she scoffs, shaking her head as she moves past Dean, now being the one to lead the way through the wooded area.

“Definitely shark week.” Dean nods, to which Grace flips him off, her footsteps heavy as she quickens her pace, not sure if she’s aiming to lose them in the trees or simply express every emotion that's overwhelming her.

“Can’t say I blame the kid.” Sam comments, his eyes trailing over Grace’s frame before he turns his attention to the abandoned houses around them, an eerie feeling creeping up his spine as the miles of land around them appear barren and worn down.

“Yeah. So much for curb appeal.” Dean scoffs, finally catching up to Grace who isn’t so intent on ‘accidentally’ losing her brothers anymore. He slings an arm over her shoulder, but she shrugs him off, her glare unwavering as she looks over at him.

She sticks closer to Sam as they continue down the gravel path, annoyance rolling off of her body in thick waves that has Dean shaking his head as if he’d not been the one to agitate her. Twenty years with a little sister and he still doesn’t know how to not be a dick around women. Grace hates to think that she loses more and more hope in men every time her brothers get too comfortable with their precious masculinity.

When they come up to a specific house, she peels away from them both, her eyes squinting as she approaches the abandoned building cautiously. Neither Sam or Dean attempt to stop her, blindly following her onto the dying blades of grass, equally as curious. Sam kicks around at broken branches, but Dean hangs back, the EMF detector in hand, his fingers tapping at the small device incessantly.

“You got something?” Sam questions, walking closer to where Dean is standing, having abandoned the corner of the house where he’d initially been searching, coming up with nothing of importance to them or the case at hand.

“Yeah. The EMF’s no good.” Dean sighs, the machine buzzing in his hand. “I think that things still got a little juice in it. It’s screwing with all the readings.” His eyes glance toward the power lines, and both Grace and Sam follow the motion, looking at the wires that cross over their heads.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Sam agrees quietly, only looking down at Grace for a second as she comes to stand beside them, not finding anything important on her end of the house.

“Come on, let's go.” Dean nods towards the house, and both Grace and Sam follow. For an instant, Grace almost wishes that they had even the slightest bit of reluctance to be entering an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, but it's certainly not the creepiest of settings they’ve wandered into with less information than what they currently have. She’ll never understand how this became her life, but she’s too far into it to start asking questions now.

The house is somehow colder inside than it is outside, and she shivers as she steps over the threshold, pulling the leather jacket tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes sweep over the interior, noting the cobwebs in the corners of the ceilings, and insignificant piles of debris scattered around the baseboards.

“Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger during his time.” Dean comments as they walk farther into the house, eyes scanning over the decor that’s still sitting on shelves and pinned to walls.

Sam follows Dean’s line of sight, looking straight at the reverse cross that Grace had already set her gaze on, her thoughts spiraling in every possible direction as she pulls on everything she’s ever learned about religion and its branches. “And after his time, too.”

“The reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but the sigil of sulfur–” Grace starts, looking directly at Sam, who knows exactly where she’s going with that specific train of thought. He doesn’t hesitate before jumping in, their brains attempting to unscramble the puzzle in front of them in tandem. “–didn’t show up in San Francisco until the ‘60s.” He finished, eyebroward furrowed as they shared a single glance before Sam was lifting his phone, snapping a picture of the cross.

“This is why you never get laid.” Dean scoffs, never above making a dig at Sam about his lack of sexual activity, though he seems to bristle when he realizes he’s unintentionally looped Grace into the insult, and the slightest grimace of disgust that crosses his features at the insinuation of his little sister having random hookups is enough satisfaction for the woman, not feeling it necessary to call him a pig when he’s already regretting his choice words. “What about this one? You seen this one before?” Dean nods toward the opposite wall, stepping away from Sam and Grace who are still trying to memorize the image of the cross.

“No.” Grace shakes her head, stalking closer to where Dean is standing, his head tilted like he’s trying to remember something just out of reach. She shuffles closer to him out of instinct, their arms brushing at the newfound proximity, but if Dean thinks anything of it, he doesn’t comment on it. Sam comes up on the other side of Grace, his phone already raised as he snaps a picture of the symbol on the wall.

Dean keeps his eyes on the symbol, his head turning as he further analyzes it. “I have… somewhere.”

Sam reaches out inquisitively, brushing the pads of his fingers over the markings. “It’s paint.” He notes as he pulls his fingers away, glancing at the residue that comes off on his hand. “Seems pretty fresh, too.”

“I don’t know. I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but the cops might be right about this one.” Dean sighs, turning away from the symbol on the wall as he takes in everything else in sight, Sam trailing after him as he contemplates the truth in that statement. Grace doesn’t move, her head lulling on her shoulders as fights off a sniffle, suddenly congested despite the fresh air that streams into the house from beneath window sills and door frames.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Sam agrees.

Just as the three Winchesters let their guard down, a crash comes from somewhere in the house, instantaneously raising their guards. Sam and Dean take initiative, stalking through the house until they come upon a closed door where the sound seemed to have come from. Grace stands to the side, her eyes on both of her brothers who wait a single second before nodding at her, Dean reaching for his gun just as Grace reaches for the handle and pushes it open. She’s immediately blinded by a shining light, her eyes squinting as she quietly groans and backs away. Sam pulls her behind him, equally as frazzled but ever the protective older brother.

“God!” A man choirs, his heart undoubtedly racing as he glances at the siblings in front of him. “Ugh. Cut!” He calls, posture deflating as he regains his bearing, the flashlight lowering and no longer blinding Grace who thinks the black spots in her vision have doubled now. Still, she makes no indication that she’s not at her best, keeping her chin high and her shoulders square despite how Sam’s wide frame keeps her concealed. “Just a couple humans. What are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean throws back at them, his eyes watching Grace as she steps away from Sam, though he makes no indication that he sees the way she closes her eyes tightly and masks a wince of discomfort. His theory on her odd behavior being a symptom of shark week is dwindling by the minute, but he’s not brave enough to quiz her again, still highly aware of the fact that he has to be in a car with her later on, and he does not want a pissed off little sister on his ass in confined spaces.

“Um, we belong here. We’re professionals.” The man with the camera explains like its obvious, his hands waving at his sides as he addresses Dean.

“Professional what?”

“Paranormal investigators?” Grace notes how the frames of his glasses do little to compliment his features, the blue button down he wears only another factor that aids in her analysis of his character; and whether he’s going to be a royal pain in their ass throughout the duration of the case. She’s not always so quick to judge, but nerdy men who think they have a chance at social redemption have a thing or two in common. She scoffs quickly beneath her breath when he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card with a little too much finesse to be authentic. Her analysis is quickly proven correct, his air of false confidence already annoying her as she watches the scene unfold, not willing to help her brothers out with this one. “Here you go. Take a look at that, boys.” He entirely ignores her presence, and she can only roll her eyes. Not all men are the same, she knows and appreciates that, but most of the ones she stumbles across in this line of work do not fall very far from the same misogynistic tree.

She glances down at the card in Dean’s hands, rolling her eyes as she reads over the blocky black text. “You got to be kidding me.” Dean comments, not an ounce of humor in his tone.

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler, hellhoundslair.com – You guys run that website.” Sam looks up at them, disbelief in his expression though Ed and Harry take it for what it's not, pride filling their features as their shoulders square and their chins rise the slightest inch.

“Yeah.” Ed hums.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re huge fans.” Dean mumbles as he passes them, Grace following behind him, eager to find something to look at that isnt the two men who couldn’t care less about her presence. For once, she’s thankful that they have no interest in her, not sure if she’d be able to handle the high levels of masculinity that twinge the air with something almost hostile.

“And, uh, we know who you guys are, too.” There’s a stiff beat of silence that elapses as Dean and Grace lock eyes, their gazes trailing toward Ed and Harry curiously, though cautiously.

“Oh, yeah?” Sam questions, being the only one to find his voice quick enough.

Ed clears his throat, “Amatures looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.” Grace rolls her eyes, opening a cupboard on the left of her body, not so entertained by the conversation anymore. She grips at the hinges for support when a wave of dizziness crashes over her, knuckles becoming white from the intensity of her grip as she forces herself steady and coherent.

“Yeah, so, if you guys don’t mind, we’re trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here.” Harry not-so-subtly attempts to get the Winchesters to leave, his eyes trailing across Grace’s petite frame as she searches through the cabinets for something undisclosed. She’s entirely unaware, but Dean’s not, and his body quickly shields her from sight as he turns around to look at the men fully.

“Yeah? What do you got so far?” He picks up a camera, playing it cool despite the annoyance thats radiating off of him.

“Har, why don’t you tell them about EMF?” Ed looks entirely too smug, and when Sam questions it, Harry only beams with arrogance, his smirk deeply unsettling as he nods like he knows everything that the Winchesters couldn’t even dream of one day finding out. Grace really wants to punch him, but she’s aware of the fact that she’s more irritable than she usually is as she wipes at her nose with the sleeve of Dean’s jacket, only slightly apologetic about the action that he’s not at all aware of.

“Electromagnetic field.” He boasts, and Sam can only smile as he scratches at his head, enjoying this far too much. “Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector like this bad boy right here.” Harry pulls an EMF detector out of his duffle bag on the counter, and Grace can only roll her eyes as she moves through the space, standing beside Dean now as they watch Sam lead the conversation. “Woah, woah. It’s a 2.8 mG. It’s hot in here.”

“Wow.” Sam fakes interest, his lips curving downward into an impressed expression as he glances at Grace and Dean, amusement sparkling in his eyes that only his siblings can pick up on.

“Huh. So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before?” Dean questions, hands vaguely gesturing around the room they’re occupying.

“Once.” Ed nods, “We were investigating this old house, and we saw a vase fall right off the table–”

“ –by itself.” Harry adds, though the statement is quickly undermined by Ed who snaps his gaze to meet his partners.

“We didn’t actually see it, but we heard it. And something like that, it– it changes you.” Grace wants to bash her head into the wall as she listens to Ed talk, his tone entirely too filled with pride for something so insignificant.

“I think I get the picture.” Dean nods, “We should go, let them get back to work.” Nothing has ever sounded better to Grace, the woman desperately craving to seek warmth from the Impala, hoping to get another few hours of rest as well, though that's not looking too promising anymore.

-

Grace Winchester is definitely sick. She grimaces at the aftertaste on her tongue as she walks down the street balancing three hot drinks. While Sam and Dean had gone off to gather more intel on the case, she’d sought out a local coffee shop, thinking it was time that they put a little something in their bodies other than dust and debris. She hadn’t expected to make a b-line for the bathroom as soon as she’d entered the quaint little shop, but she was glad her brothers weren’t around to hear her wretch over the toilet, wanting to keep her sudden illness far off their radars, although she knew she was off to a terrible start already. She sneezed for the third time in the last five minutes as she approached Dean and Sam on the corner, standing outside of the Impala waiting for her to return, though they look to be having a pretty in depth conversation as Sam grips a handful of papers and pamphlets in his hands. Grace is painfully aware of how her eyes are glassy and swollen, her cheeks flush and yet somehow also pale, but she hopes that they think nothing of it, willing to lie and say she’s simply cold if they start to ask too many questions.

“I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers and leave the legend to the locals.” She only hears the tail end of their conversation, and a pout forms on her lips instantaneously as she glances down at the cups of coffee in her hands for the both of them. Sam winces sympathetically, taking one from her as she steps up to him softly.

“Thanks, Gracie.” He smiles softly, but his eyes stay fixed on her face for longer than necessary, and she sighs as she anticipates his next question. “You okay?”

“Fine. Definitely inhaled too much dust.” She plays it off, though the excuse is timed perfectly with another soft sneeze, and for once Sam doesn’t question it any further, nodding as he offers a quiet bless you. She’s about to get into the car, but Sam stops her with a hand on her forearm, a smirk on his lips that tells her everything she needs to know.

“What the–” Dean startles easily when he turns the car on and a spanish song starts blaring through the speakers. Sam can only laugh, entirely unaware of how Grace flinches at the sudden noise, her eyes pinching shut as she attempts to focus on her breathing and not throw up for the second time in ten minutes.

She gets into the car when Sam opens the passenger door, handing Dean his coffee before she’s making herself comfortable in the back, her cup of hot chocolate held between her kneecaps as she curls up tight, reaching for the blanket that’s crumpled up in a heap toward the other end of the seat. She tunes out their conversation, already half asleep by the time Dean puts the gear in drive and peels away from the curb.

She’s passed out when Sam glances back at her, his eyes filled with concern. He reaches for the hot chocolate that’s still between her knees, pulling it away from her unconscious body before it has the chance to spill and burn her. He frowns when he realizes she’s hardly even taken a single sip from it, his eyes immediately trailing toward Dean who isn’t so subtly watching her through the rearview mirror. “She’s sick.” He notes.

“Knew that the second she started with her ‘womens bodies run hotter than mens’ bullshit.” Dean rolls his eyes, though there's a twinge of concern etched across his brows as he reaches for the stereo, turning the music down despite it already being practically inaudible. “Just– don’t say anything. Don’t need her slashing my tires.” He’s only partly joking, and Sam knows that, but still they both can’t help but dread the anxiety and fear that plagues Grace whenever she comes down with something. Guilt pools in Dean’s chest, his heart hammering as he questions how their lives turned out so shittily that his sister can’t even find it within herself to admit to being sick.

-

The next morning, Grace somehow feels worse than she did the day before, and it's evident in the way she winces with every move she makes, soft sneezing filling the backseat as she masks groans of discomfort every time her muscles tense. After the seventh sneeze, Sam can’t take it anymore, his eyes trailing over her frame that’s partly concealed by the thick blanket she has pulled up to her chin.

“I know that you’re sick.” He comments, not blind to the way Grace tenses with fear, her eyes wide and vulnerable as she shakes her head, attempting to deny the truth they’re all aware of.

“I’m not sick.” She denies the accusation, her voice wavering, though whether it's a result of the fear that grips at her belly and twists it into knots, or the throbbing ache in her throat that’s not quelled by any amount of honey or tea, not even Grace is certain. All that she knows is that it most definitely does not help her case, and that’s evident in the way Sam’s lips twitch with sympathy.

“Gracie–” He starts, only to cut himself off, shaking his head as Dean pulls up to the Hell House, seeing officers and squad members surrounding the abandoned foundation. “It’s okay if you are. Dean and I got this.”

“I’m not fucking sick, Sammy. Would you just get the fuck out of the car already?” There’s a clip in her tone that neither of her brothers have heard in a while, years even, and they can only sigh as they agree to her demands, straightening out their jackets before they push the Impala’s doors open and step out into the awaiting cold. Whoever said Texas was warm year round was most definitely lying through their teeth.

Despite the soreness in her muscles and the way her head begs for reprieve from the constant moving, Grace climbs out of the car after Sam, not even glancing back at her brothers for a loose game plan before she’s stalking up to one of the officers in the yard, an air of confidence surrounding her as she moves, though its not at all genuine, rather, fabricated from the deep-rooted fear that just won’t relent no matter how hard she pleads with herself to just breathe.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota. 1999

Grace Winchester pants for breath as she looks over at her father, her green eyes glassy and incoherent as she lays limp on damp grass. She can’t remember how she got here – sprawled out in Bobby’s yard, covered in blood and what she thinks is monster goo – nor how long she’s been here. John stands in front of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest as he seethes. It was meant to be an easy fight, a sure fire win, but when he’d handed Grace the gun, when he’d told her to shoot the thing without a single second to prepare herself, all hell broke loose for both Winchesters involved.

Grace’s chest throbs as she hyperventilates on the grass, not sure if the ache in her ribs is from the monster she’d been pit up against, or her fathers assault. It doesn’t matter why she hurts, it only matters that she can’t pull herself up and John is waiting; waiting for her to get up, to dust herself off, to put up her fists and prove that she’s worth keeping around. Grace can’t move though. She can’t even lift her hands off the ground, let alone raise her entire body. Her head is pounding, but it has been pounding for days at this point, her throat is raw, and her eyes sting so horrendously that she thinks it might just be better to keep them closed forever, but that’s not an option. It will never be an option so long as John Winchester expects obedience from her.

“Get up, girl.” He demands, and another rock is hurled in her direction. It thumps against her thigh and becomes yet another sensation for Grace to try and ignore as she continues to try and stay conscious. She knows she’s in even more trouble if she faints, but she hasn’t eaten in days, she’s thrown up every ounce of water John’s let her consume, and she’s practically numb after trying to hold her own against her own father just hours after being thrown against a wall by whatever monster she’d been tasked with ending. “I said, Get. Up.” John growls, pushing himself off of the Impala with impatience. Grace can barely even flinch as he comes closer, too close, and before she knows it, or even has time to prepare, his steel toed boots are crashing into her ribcage, and the pain that she’d been dealing with before suddenly triples.

Grace tries to stand, attempting to get her limbs working again, but just as she lifts her head up off of the rain-soaked grass, she’s throwing up all over herself and John’s shoes. It’s not just stomach acid and water anymore either, and she cringes as she feels blood drip from her lips onto the blades beside her head. She can only whimper when her father grabs her by the collar of her blood soaked t-shirt, pulling her up off the ground without a moment of hesitation. Nothing’s broken. She’d know if something was broken, but that doesn’t mean everythings right either. Her face is flush, her throat is on fire, her stomach churns and not just because she’s terrified. Three days ago, she’d come home from school sick. The flu had been going around her dusty, and very temporary, middle school, and it came as no surprise to anyone that she’d been unlucky enough to catch it. John hadn’t taken kindly to her complaining, though all Grace had done was cough into her elbow at dinner, but apparently that was enough to put her on his chopping block – not that she ever left the very top of that list. He’d dragged her out to South Dakota that very next day, something about a strange death and a monster to hunt slipping past his lips when he’d informed Dean of the case. It wasn’t often that John took Grace on a hunt without her brothers, but it wasn’t uncommon either, and with that logic in mind, neither Sam nor Dean questioned why John wanted only Grace with him, naively assuming it was to keep them away from the flu that had her practically bedridden and imobile until he’d dragged her out by her wrist.

The only thing keeping Grace on her feet is John’s hand around her neck, and when he lets go, when he finally relents and allows her to breathe, she crumbles to the ground, landing in the pile of sick that's already begun to cool. She whimpers, both in pain and disgust, and attempts to get to her feet again, but John’s hand on her shoulder keeps her where she is. She’s little, only thirteen years old and barely half the height of her youngest older brother, but that’s never stopped her father from treating her like an adult. She moans in pain when he backhands her, but headlights shine brightly in the distance, and Grace knows it's the end, at least for now.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bobby rushes out of his car, his breath visible in the air as he races to where Grace is, her blood laced vomit smeared into her hair and her clothes tattered and stained as she succumbs to darkness, finally passing out. The last thing she can hear is John saying something about her being useless, needing to teach her that even a fever doesn’t exempt her from earning her keep in the family; his family.

Present

Grace tries not to panic as she crouches behind wilting shrubbery, the jacket around her shoulders zipped all the way up, though it barely does her any good as she continues to shiver. She has a fever, she doesn’t need a thermometer to tell, but she refuses to let Sam and Dean see this through on their own. She refuses to be a waste of space and air when there’s good to be done, evil to be ganked. It’s been years since she’s seen her father, but his words still echo through her head, and his irrational anger that only increased whenever she came down with something still flashes against her eyelids whenever she lets herself rest.

Her brothers still don’t know half of what she endured at the hands of John Winchester, but with the pieces of the puzzle that they have, Sam especially, they aren’t surprised by Grace’s reaction. None of their childhoods were ideal, none of them had white picket fences and lovey-dovey moments to steal, but Grace had the shortest stick there was to draw, and neither of her brothers can – or try to – deny it. It’s a miracle that she’s even here with them at all, searching for a man that put her through hell for the first eighteen years of her life, but she’s always known a thing or two about loyalty, and Dean hates to think that she’s faithful to a fault. She’ll get herself killed doing this job before she ever lets them go off without her.

“Guess the cops don’t want anymore kids screwing around in there.” Sam notes, watching as flashlights shine bright on the expanse of land surrounding them. For a moment, Grace is back in South Dakota, she’s sprawled out on rain-soaked grass and on the cusp of unconsciousness from a fever and physical injuries, but she forces the memory away, biting down on her bottom lip to focus on something other than the trauma circling through her mind.

“Yeah, but we still got to get in there.” Dean sighs, looking out past the branches, only to snap his gaze to the side when a twig breaks in the distance, leaves crunching beneath footsteps that approach as a pair. Grace follows his line of sigh, her hand falling onto Sam’s thigh as she steadies herself. She doesn’t make a big deal out of needing Sam’s support to find balance, and thankfully, neither does he. “I don’t believe it.” Dean scoffs, all three siblings watching as Ed and Harry stumble up the hill, headlamps shining bright against the night sky.

“I got an idea.” Dean mumbles before he rises off the ground just slightly, and while he’s preoccupied with whatever master plan he's thought up, Sam forces Grace closer to his chest, one arm looping around her waist to keep her close, knowing she’ll struggle.

“Sammy, would you quit it already!” Grace seethes lowly, her voice hushed and weak as she bats at his arm, trying not to panic at the sensation of being trapped; unable to defend herself against someone bigger than herself, stronger than she will ever be. “I told you I’m fine.”

“You’re burning up!” His voice is hushed, a whisper in the night, but still loud enough for Dean to acknowledge as he scoops out the stance of the officers on the front lawn, further curating his plan of distraction, though he’s still fully tuned into the conversation Sam is trying – and failing – to have with Grace. “Dad’s not here, Gracie! You don’t have to pretend like you're not sick!”

“You don’t know what your talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and let me do my fucking job.” She snaps, elbowing him in the gut, putting distance between herself and him. Neither brother notices how she grabs at her throat, or how she seems to heave for breath like she can’t physically draw anything into her lungs. They might be looking for John Winchester, but the effects of his torment and torture have never left Grace, not even for a second.

“Who you gonna call?” Dean bellows, tapping Grace’s side as he nods toward the house. The two officers posted outside bolted toward Ed and Harry, leaving a clear point of entry open for the Winchesters to strike. Grace can only shake her head at their stupidity, but doesn’t harp on how truly terrible they are at their job, thankful that it makes her life easier for once.

The siblings rush through the cover of darkness as the two county officers further chase Ed and Harry back down the hill. Grace gets into the house first, her heart stuttering in her chest as she forces her body to keep going, keep moving, keep being worth something to her brothers. She brushes strands of hair out of her face, sighing in annoyance when she finds that the reason her hair is loose and unruly in the first place is because the elastic band around her tresses has snapped. She looks to Dean when he hits her shoulder, ready to snap, to deny the fever that’s clouding her judgement, but all he does is offer her another hairtie, not saying a single word about how her breathing comes out wheezy, or how her face is flush and she looks somewhat green even beneath the cover nightfall they’ve chosen to sneak around beneath. She doesn’t ask why he even had a hair tie around his wrist to begin with, just takes it gratefully and redoes the ponytail that swings with every crane of her head. She feels better, just slightly, but with cold air hitting the back of her neck now, she hopes that some of the fog over her senses will fall away and become a problem for later on when there aren’t innocent lives to save and monsters to put an end to.

Sam hands Dean a shotgun first, before reaching into the duffle again to hand one to Grace. She barely bristles as she cocks the gun, the metal familiar beneath her fingertips despite how much she hates these weapons. She doesn’t waste a second, because they don’t have a second to waste, before she’s approaching the wall where the unknown symbol remains, Dean’s flashlight illuminating the dried paint as well as it can.

“Where have I seen that symbol before? It’s killing me.” He grumbles, but Sam isn’t waiting around for their brother to figure it out, sneaking up beside Dean and Grace before he’s making a move of his own, peeling away from the post they’ve created beside the wall.

“Come on. We don’t have much time.” He directs them farther into the house, his flashlight illuminating corners they don’t even touch as he searches for the basement. Grace sighs as she follows her brothers, but when Sam stops in front of the staircase, shining his flashlight down the steps, she’s quick to snake her way between them, outright refusing to be the first to descend the rickety stairs or the last last. Sam looks back at her, rolling his eyes, though he’s anything but surprised. She’s always been terrified of basements, and neither Dean nor Sam know why. It’s one of the only fears that Grace can’t explain either, though she’s sure something has happened over the course of her life that would warrant such a fear, but off the top of her head, she always comes up blank.

A sneeze catches both of her brothers off guard, their flashlights temporarily blinding her as they snap their gaze in her direction, expecting to see a shadow or another idiot kid, their shoulders squared and ready for anything that may come at them. She blushes sheepishly, apologizing meekly as she wipes at her nose with the sleeve of her jacket as a precaution. Growing up with two brothers that never learned how to actually be mature adults means she’s constantly worrying about having something on her face, and she knows neither of them would tell her if she did, though she holds a little bit of hope in Sammy now, but even he’s guilty of omitting the truth for a prank.

Dean’s the first to pull away from the interaction, his flashlight sweeping across the expanse of the basement before he dwells on a single shelf with mason jars of ominous liquid laid out in a neat row. He picks one up that has an off-putting orange tinge to it, a smirk curving his lips upward. “Hey, Sam, I dare you to take a swig of this.” He teases.

Grace rolls her eyes, staying silent, but Sam was never one to just ignore Dean’s wit. “The hell would I do that for?” He rebuttals, features unamused despite giving Dean exactly what he wanted in the first place, which was any kind of response at all.

“I double dare you.” Dean’s entirely too giddy about the situation, but that ends just as quickly as it began when there’s a scratching noise behind them. Instinctively, he reaches for Grace, tugging her further behind him as all three of them turn to address the sudden sound.

They stalk up to the cupboard where the sound came from with intent, shotguns raised and aimed at the cabinet as Sam ever so cautiously inches to pull it open. Grace braces herself for whatever they may face, but ultimately its not needed, rats scampering out of the cupboard the second the door is cracked open.

“I hate rats.” Dean groans, and Grace can only agree, inching backward as the rats run in all directions around her.

“You’d rather it was a ghost?” Sam questions, and Grace nods eagerly, a shriek escaping her lips when a rat tail flicks at her ankle.

“Yes.” Dean grimaces, flashlight still shining on the floor, illuminating the creatures that scamper around.

Grace is still inching backwards, away from the rats when something eerie creeps up her spine. All she has to follow is intuition, but she listens to her instincts without second thought, thankful that she did, because behind her is the shadow of a spirit, an axe held high above her head. Her gun goes off first, aimed directly at the ghost's chest. She doesn’t miss, she hardly ever misses, but even with the echoes of her brothers shooting at it too, the ghost disappears, hardly phased by the ambush.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam bellows in surprise, his eyes flickering to Dean as Grace steps back into line with them, no longer wanting to be out in the open steps ahead of them. Her chest is racing, her lungs ache. She’s never been a fan of jumpscares, but it's not panic that fills her body with discomfort, it's the reminder that despite wanting to pretend like she’s at her best, there’s still a fever and nausea plaguing her.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on, come on!” Dean chirps with efficiency, all three siblings keeping their shotguns cocked as they peel away from the corner of the basement, rushing toward the stairs, hoping to escape the spirit to regroup the information that they have – which isn’t much of anything – but before they can climb the steps, the shelves are being smashed, and something knocks Grace on the ground, her head bashing against the banister as she falls.

She hardly manages to get to her feet before Dean’s grabbing the back of her jacket and pulling her with him. There’s blood dripping down her head, sticky and warm as it coats her eyebrow and drips farther down her face. She can only grimace as she runs, both hands on her shotgun ready to aim at whatever comes at them. Dean barrels through the front door still holding onto Grace’s jacket, and the both of them tumble to the ground as she loses her footing on the stairs and Dean trips over himself. They’re back up on their feet in seconds, Dean shoving past Harry and Ed who are stupidly holding up cameras that won’t do them any good.

They’re heading to the Impala, the cold air hitting Grace as she races past her brothers and toward the car, desperate for a minute to breathe without fearing for her life. She wipes at the blood dripping down her face, grimacing at the familiar feeling beneath her fingertips and the stain to her white long sleeved shirt but that's the least of her worries as the throbbing in her head only grows, and the wave of nausea intensifies. Somehow she gets into the car without losing any of the lunch she’d barely been able to stomach, and she’s practically dead to the world when Sam and Dean climb in, peeling away from the scene like a bat out of hell, the engine revving as Dean books it back to the motel.

“You okay back there, G?” Dean calls once they are a safe distance away, adrenaline no longer coursing through their veins so intently. Grace can’t say she’s thankful for that, because without the fight or flight instincts taking the reins, she’s aware of how tired she is.

“Peachy.” She chokes out, grimacing as the strain in her throat. “Give me that.” She leans forward, stealing a rag from the passenger seat that Sam had been using to polish his knives. She doesn’t care about what chemicals have touched the rag, or that it’s been trampled on by both her shoes and Sam’s. All she wants is for the blood to stop pouring down her face, not sure how much more she can take before she’s thrown head first into a panic attack that neither of her brothers should need to deal with. “Fucking hell.” She winces, pressing the rag to the cut on her temple. It’s not nearly deep enough for stitches, she’s beyond grateful for that, but it's still deep enough to be a pain in the ass as she puts pressure on the wound. “My brain better not have a fucking splinter.”

-

Grace moans as she slumps against the wall in the bathroom, the porcelain of the toilet seat cold beneath her cheek as he heaves over the bowl once more. She’s been bent over the toilet for the last twelve minutes, not that she was counting, throwing up everything that she’d consumed that day. Her head is pounding, and tears blur in her vision as the breakdown she’d been desperately trying to ignore overcomes her in a moment of weakness. She bashes her fist against the wall, but even the pain in her fingers can’t distract her from the panic attack that’s climbing up her throat. A dry sob falls off her lips, tears falling down her cheeks, mixing with the blood that still smeared across her face.

A knock on the door sends her scrambling back against the wall, swallowing the bile that’s raising in her throat as she stares at the door with wide, terrified eyes. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting, or better yet, who she’s expecting, but when Dean jiggles the handle, finding it unlocked, she can only sob in terror that’s wildly misplaced. He has a cup of hot tea in his hands, but quickly he sets it on the sink, crouching in front of Grace who shrinks away from him in fear, her breathes wheezy and shallow as she shakes her head, fingers tangling into her hair as she pulls and pulls at her tangled locks.

“No! No, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m fine! I promise!” She mumbles, eyes pleading with Dean to believe her, to spare her anymore pain. She’s not seeing Dean, not in the slightest. The fevers made her delirious, the panic’s turned reality to old memories. She’s in a bathroom, a crappy motel bathroom, but its not the one she shares alone with her brothers. It’s one that her father rented.

West Reading, Pennsylvania. 1997

Grace heaves over the toilet bowl, coughing and spluttering as she expells everything she had at lunch that day. John isn’t with them, but he’s coming back soon, Dean told her as much when she came home early with a fever. It’s not the first time she’s gotten sick at school, not the first time she’s picked up a virus or a bug from hanging around kids her own age. It’s not her fault, not really. All of her classmates get the vaccines and the boosters, all of her classmates are exposed to illness and viruses year round as they socialize and develop their personalities based on the small towns they occupy. Grace has never had the luxury. Grace isn’t even sure she’s ever had the flu shot.

The last time she was sick, John had told her not to let it happen again. That she was already weak enough without a fever and vomiting; that she was no good to any of them if she was hunched over a toilet. He’d told her the only reason he keeps her around at all is to have an extra set of hands, and what good are her hands if she can’t even lift her head up. Grace knows the kids at her school don’t have to worry about their father killing them if they come home with a cough, but she can’t help but think that this may be the reason she dies. She doesn’t want to believe that John will kill her over a stomach bug, but she can’t deny the possibility. Not when he’s hurt her for less. Not when he told her the next time she gets sick, they’ll be a bullet between her eyes before she can even plead for her life.

Her fingers tighten around the seat of the toilet as she retches, the motel door slamming as John comes back. She knows it's him because of the way his boots echo despite the carpeted floors. She knows its him because Dean is sputtering excuses, practically begging John to take him to the diner, claiming he needs a beer. Dean’s not even old enough to drink, Sam’s not even old enough to drive, and Grace is definitely not old enough to be panicking over whether this is the last thing she’ll ever do; throw up in a shitty motel bathroom.

The bathroom door wasn’t locked. It’s never locked. Not when Grace uses it at least. She wishes she locked it when the door knob slams into the wall, almost hard enough to dent it, but it's like John’s showing restraint, not wanting to be questioned at check out if somebody happens to notice the damage before he can peel away from the parking lot. She whimpers, eyes staring straight back at her father who looms over her like a predator. Her friends at school don’t see their dad’s as the enemy. Well, Carrie does, but that’s only because he took away her favorite body spray after her brother tried to start a fire after learning about chemicals in his high school science class. Grace knows this isn’t normal. She understands that now. But understanding something doesn’t mean that it’ll stop, only that it becomes a best kept secret.

“What the hell did I tell you, girl!” John bellows, backhanding her without remorse. Her head slams into the wall, and she starts to vomit again, but this time it falls onto her chest, and she whimpers in humiliation as she stares up at her father with glassy eyes. Sam and Dean stand in the center of the room between the two beds that all four of them share. Dean watches silently, his hand on Sam’s wrist keeping him from getting between John and Grace. Nothing good happens when they do that; when they protect her, but still Sammy always tries anyways.

John doesn’t say anything else as he grabs a fistful of Grace’s hair, pulling her in close to the toilet that she hasn’t had the chance to flush. She doesn’t know where this is going, doesn’t know what to brace herself for, but when her father forces her head into the toilet, into the contaminated water that’s not just water anymore, she desperately tries to get herself free. Dean winces as he watches, Sam flinches. There’s nothing they can do. If they so much as ask him to stop, he’ll only go on longer. If Sam tries to get in the middle, tries to help his baby sister that’s drowning in her own sick, John’ll only hit her harder. They’re trapped. Forced to watch as their father that devotes his life to killing monsters, turns into one any time his youngest child so much as breathes too loud.

The toilet flushes with Grace’s head still in the bowl, her hair wet now as it falls into the water. John only relents when Grace can’t struggle anymore, but he doesn’t give her the chance to catch her breath before he’s pulling her to her feet by the handful of hair that he has. She knows where this is going. Sam and Dean know where this is going. Both brothers watch as their little sister is dragged to the closet, her body, already weak and barely functioning, thrown into it with a venomous force. She’s coughing up water, desperately wiping at her face that is covered in her own sick. She doesn’t have the strength to plead with John, but Dean knows that she wants to; that she would’ve had there not been water in her lungs she’s continuously coughing up. The door slams and the lock clicks, and it's silent for a handful of minutes before John nods toward the door, suddenly interested in that beer Dean suggested.

“Wh-What if she gets sick again? S-She’ll– Dad, she could die if she chokes on it.” Sam glances back at the closet as John demands that he steps outside and comes with them. He knows his little sister is in a ball on the floor, panicking and probably puking, but he knows if he reaches for the handle, if he opens the door now, John’ll only shove Grace right back in and force him outside and on a hunt. He knows that if either he or Dean open that closet before at least a handful of hours have elapsed, it’ll only be worse for Grace.

“You disobeying me, boy?” John narrows his eyes, Dean silently pleading with Sam to drop the subject and get moving, knowing the quicker they leave, the quicker they grab dinner and drinks at the local diner, the quicker they’ll be able to come back and let Grace out. John never has any objections when they let her out after they’ve come back from somewhere. They just need to get through the hour or so they’ll be away first.

“No, sir.” Sam sighs, glancing at the closet one last time before he’s following after his brother, fear pooling in his belly as he tries not to think about what’s happening in the closet, or if his little sister will still be alive when they come back.

Present

“Hey, hey. Hey, Gracie girl.” Dean’s tone is unbelievably soft as he steps closer to his sister, his hands extended toward her, though he doesn’t think he’s really seeing him at all. Her face is flush, her eyes are glassy and rimmed red, swollen from crying and the minutes she’s spent hunched over the toilet. He can still remember that night in Pennsylvania. He can still remember how John held her head in the toilet for what felt like hours, and his heart hammers with guilt for not being able to protect her then, but he can do something about it now, even if it is years too late. “You’re okay. Gonna be sick again?” He’s always been soft with her, always been kind and gentle, but it only shows itself in moments like these. Moments when they’re not hunters, just siblings that have only ever had each other to look out for and count on. Grace might be twenty, she might not be this little girl who doesn’t know how to defend herself anymore, but she’s still his baby sister. She’s still the only piece of Mary that he and Sammy have left.

Grace shakes her head, swallowing thickly. She’s out of it, the fever she’s been ignoring finally getting the best of her. She whimpers when he steps closer, when he brushes hair out of her face that’s damp from the pearls of sweat that drip down her neck. She thinks he’s going for her hair, thinks he’s going to pull her up to her feet and force her into a closet, and she whimpers, flinching away. Dean’s strong, he always has been, he doesn’t care to show emotion, doesn’t care to express his feelings, but he can’t help the frown the pulls at his lips as he finally realizes why his sisters so scared right now. It’s not that he forgot, he could never forget, but when it was all happening, when John was still around and Grace hadn’t yet bailed to find peace with Sam at Stanford, he’d been partly blinded by his fathers dysfunctional style of discipline. He’d always known that the way John treated Grace was abusive, he wasn’t that easily manipulated, but until now, until John wasn’t here to chastise and terrorize her anymore, he’d never realized just how much it had all affected her, and unfortunately, he’s no longer blinded by the false hope that when John pulled her away form them for solo hunts, he wasn’t doing his absolute worse.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed then.” He helps her to her feet, guiding her out of the bathroom, trying not to wince when her head falls onto his shoulder and he can feel the heat radiating off of her forehead. She’s burning up, and he can only sympathize. She’s always been the one to catch an illness, and although he was only six when Mary died, he vaguely remembers how his mother would always fret over her health. John used to worry too, used to tell the boys to wash their hands and never touch her face, always tell them that because she was born so early, her little body couldn’t fight illnesses as well as theirs. He doesn’t know when his father stopped caring. Doesn’t know when Grace became the person he hates most, when she was once his favorite child, but he hates it. He hates that his sister is the sweetest, kindnessest, most trusting and loving person he knows, and their father could never recognize that. He hates that after nineteen years of torture and pain, Grace still has her heart. She’s one of the best damn hunters Dean has ever crossed paths with, but at the end of the day, she’s just a woman with a whole lot of love to give, and somehow she always ends up hurt.

“I need– I need to h-help. Need to– to be worth keeping ‘round.” She wheezes, allowing Dean to lay her down in his bed. He’s a real bitch whenever they get into their motel rooms, always claiming a bed to himself, never willing to share. Usually that means Sam and Grace are bunked together, or on the rare hunts when they can splurge for a bigger room, Sam takes the couch. Grace barely even recognizes that she’s being laid down in Dean’s bed, her fever taking the reins of her consciousness despite how hard she’s trying to fight it.

“You’re worth keeping around, Gracie girl.” That nickname, something so soft, so sweet and slightly abnormal, isn’t one that she hears a lot, but in moments like this, moments when she’s just Dean’s baby sister and not a hunter with near perfect aim, it slips out. “Just take these, and get some sleep, yeah? Sammy and I’ll finish this thing up. We just need you resting.”

He hands her three different pills, and Grace takes them without fuss, not coherent enough to really fight him anyway. She’s only getting hotter by the second, her complexion pale and gauntly as she sinks into the mattress. She’s asleep within seconds, and Sam can only shake his head.

“What are we doing man? Dragging her back into this– I mean, I know she can handle this. The hunts, the monsters… but Dean, you didn’t see her when she turned up to my place at Stanford. She barely left her room for the first month, terrified that Dad would find her, drag her back to some crappy motel and beat the shit out of her for trying to leave. Are we really just going to walk her back into his life?” Sam pulls a hand down her face, and for a moment Dean falters, torn between wanting to find out what happened to their father, and keeping Grace far from him. They don’t have time to sit here and discuss the trauma that still affects their sister who isn’t so far off from still being a kid.

“It’ll be different this time.” Is all Dean says before he’s out the door, and Sam can only follow him, stealing one last glance at Grace before he’s closing the motel door, desperately hoping that Dean’s right, that this time really is different.

It's hours later when they return, and despite expecting to see Grace still asleep in bed, she’s sitting up against the wall, a takeaway container of chicken tenders in her lap. The sun is just beginning to rise again, though the sky is unwilling to let light fan across the endless expanse just yet.

“Hey.” She greets them, holding the box out for Dean, grinning when he doesn’t hesitate to grab a fry and throw it into his mouth.

“Hey. You look better.” Sam comments, already starting to pack his shit up, both him and Dean eager to get the hell out of town and hit the road to somewhere new.

“Took a nap, a shower, went out for some actual meds… and there’s nothing chicken fingers can’t fix. Had to bribe the chef at the dinner to make me some.” She’d be lying if she said her head didn’t still throb, but everything else seems to have faded now that she’s medicated, rested, and actually eating something that’s not a twix bar Dean lifted from a gas station.

“Of course you did.” Dean rolls his eyes, reaching for another fry before he’s scrambling to get his own shit together, not that any of them brought much inside, but there’s still precious items they wouldn't’ dream of just abandoning scattered around the room. “Everything’s good. Dude was a freaking Tulpa.”

Grace nods, but there’s an edge in her eyes that tells Dean he’s on his sister's chopping block. “Next time you leave me here to finish a hunt, I’ll cut your balls off.”

“What were you gonna do, puke on the spirits' feet?” Dean can only laugh when a chicken finger is thrown at his head, Grace huffing as she stands to start packing her own shit, though she’s considerably less disorganized than her brothers who are scrounging around every corner of the room for things.

“Asshole.” Grace mutters beneath her breath, though she’s just glad the world has finally stopped spinning.

[mariariley]

Russell Adler x reader

✪ relationship headcanons ✪

2nd person

female reader

NSFW warning

Word count: 1.1k

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

He prefers keeping it professional so he would never date a woman that works with him

In his free time he tends to approach a stunning woman he sees sitting alone at a bar. He's respectful and would only aim for single girls (even though he can definitely steal bitches-)

He would make cheeky jokes about his ex-wife, spontaneously letting you know he's single as well

He prefers his girl loyal and respectful because that's all he is. He also doesn’t like envious women

His way of flirting is very casual. He can "rizz you up" without even trying, make your cheeks glow bright red with a single sentence

He's quite experienced and definitely knows what he's doing. He doesn't mind age gaps as long as they're legal

I would say he's quite picky actually. He goes for the looks, elegant or unique, independent, anything that can tell him that you're sticking out in a way

He's very good at reading people so with merely a small talk he can tell if you're worth his time or no, if you're, how he likes to say, "just a pretty face"

As your partner he's very old school and passionate

Doesn’t mind if you’re just a housewife, that’s kinda his jam anyway

He likes using nicknames such as “doll face”, “sweetie” and the classic American husband one: “honey”

He would strictly keep you out of his work, not keeping you informed at all. He would claim the only thing you should know is if he's alive or not

On longer, more serious missions you two could end up out of contact for weeks just because his job requires so (which might cause arguments just like with his ex-wife)

He loves when he comes home after a hard day and you greet him with warm dinner. He would always reward you for that

He likes buying you stuff, nothing too expensive but still not affordable for everyone. He just loves spoiling you

Perhaps he would think about marriage a bit too quickly. He's a divorced (traditional) middle aged man after all, he would love to put a ring on you to mark a new fresh start and leave everything he has with his ex-wife behind

He isn't crazy about having children but wouldn't mind becoming a family man. Nevertheless, it is not that easy considering his job so the agreement on forming a family might take time (only if you want kids that is. If not, no forcing)

In bed he likes taking it slowly. He's very passionate and likes making it hot and intense

Taking his sweet sweet time, showing you all experience he's got, somewhat edging you the whole time would always make you arch your back and grab onto his hair in heavy overstimulation every time

He likes oral, prefers rather giving than receiving. It’s crazy what his tongue can do

Loves women’s breasts. Doesn’t matter what size, he just loves them in general, his favorite part to kiss (and collarbone and shoulders)

He prefers missionary so he can kiss you all over and have a proper look at you. He always whispers how good and tight you feel around him or: "You're taking it so well, sweetie", "That's my sweet girl"

He also likes the spooning position where he gets to hold your leg up

He especially loves doing the "exhausting" cowgirl when he's already drained your battery with a heated session of rough thrusts. He'd just lay back, smoke his cigarette and enjoy the view of your legs trembling while struggling to ride his girthy cock

"Come on, honey, just a little longer" he'd encourage you with a sly smile on his face

He loves when you moan his name or just Adler. Considering that's what they call him at work, it would really get him going, making him feel dominant

When you'd moan his last name he would grab a fistful of your hair, grope you tighter and go rougher, perhaps leave a couple of hickeys on your neck, breasts and collarbone

Sometimes he likes bending you over his office desk and make you take it from behind as he'd, as usual, smoke a cigar while giving you backshots

He would grab your chin or hair, making you look at him over his shoulder. He loves seeing your uncontrollable expressions of pleasure while hitting your g-spot over and over again, telling you how beautiful you look

He never pulls out. If you're having unprotected sex, he loves looking at his hot sperm leaking out of your gapping, pulsing pussy (excuse my language)

He would make sure you're clean and comfortable after, always keeping your limp body in his arms while smoking yet another for complete pleasure. That cigarette after sex is like a cherry on top for him

Speaking of being clean, he's a king of hygiene. His hair is always shiny and soft, his clothes always fresh out the closet and, of course, an expensive cologne is a must

He has very strong body and facial hair so his beard grows back quickly. When he's at home he always takes care of it, every third or fourth night a soothing smell of aftershave fills your nostrils

It's difficult for him to be 100% precise considering his deep facial scars so sometimes he cuts himself by accident. He loves when you take care of the small cuts

Speaking of which, you're the only one he allows to touch his scar. He loves when you kiss it and admire it

He's a fan of beauty marks, especially if you have any on your face. He will kiss all of them, maybe even count them for fun

He loves playing with your hair, brushing it, braiding it, anything really. He thinks women's most beautiful (physical) features are their hair and smile (also loves when women wear strong lipsticks, red is his favorite color)

If you wear glasses, expect him to buy you bunch of expensive frames. Glasses are his passion, he would even buy you sunglasses to match his

Big fan of jewelry, especially necklaces and earrings. On a mission in another country, when he'd walk past a jewelry shop, he would always stop and take a look

He's a nightmare for every jewelry shop because he is picky and he will make the employees turn the whole thing upside down, trying to find a perfect piece for you

"Honey, I'm home! And I brought you something~" would be the well known greet whenever he comes home from a long mission

He might be a reserved man but that isn't stopping him from putting his job aside just for a little while and treat you with honesty and passion

In fact, he fears something will happen to you if anyone finds out you're his s/o. He's secretly very paranoid he's putting you in danger by just having you in his life

Dividers by @firefly-graphics 🥀

[liquidorcard]

Tw: Heavy topic discussion ahead.

.

.

.

.

.

So I have suffered with suicidal ideation for the majority of my life. As long as I can remember-- even when I was a child to some extent.

Despite current awareness of mental health issues, honestly, I don't think we have as a society really resolved yet how to earnestly address the issue. I don't blame people for not knowing what to say to suicidal people or just defaulting to the whole "oh I'm sorry, you're not alone, blah blah blah" song and dance. I get they don't know what to say, but.

The issue with being always suicidal is that it's kinda a bitch to figure out how to just live with? You don't want to worry people, or emotionally burden them, you dont want them walking on eggshells around you forever because they think at any moment they could accidentally push you over the edge. Because the conversation around suicidal ideation is so focused on NOT being suicidal anymore, it functionally silences people in a well-meaning, but still harmful way.

Like, let ol' uncle Eldritch affirm for anyone reading this right now: it's OKAY to be suicidal. Not okay as in, indulge the urge. But suicidal ideation is a mental health concern like any other. It's not your fault, and stressing yourself out that you feel this way will do you no good. Accepting a feeling is not the same as acting on it.

For most people the feeling is temporary, but the reality is for some of us it's not. The feeling might be more intense sometimes than others, but it's okay if they're always there. Strange thing to say, I know, but you don't owe anyone happiness. You don't owe anyone self-contentment. Yes, we all want those things, but getting upset with yourself that you haven't achieved that beyond healthy degrees is a vicious cycle that will only make you more miserable.

There's a difference between treating negative emotions as an undesirable outcome, and treating them as if they're a mistake. As if they're not often enough a logical outcome to many of life's challenges, especially these days.

Counterintuitive, I know, but accepting that someday I might lose the battle with my own suicidal ideation probably saved my life at several low points. Something I've had to reaffirm within myself several times over my life. And something it's been very hard to get other people to understand.

The problem may be bad, but it's almost always the stigma that makes it dire.

I'm not going to pretend there isn't some degree of a grain of truth to the idea that some people use suicidal intent to get attention, but that's a gross and misleading oversimplification of the issue. Some people have no suicidal intent, but use it as a means of manipulating others. I'd say those types of people are rarer than you might imagine, but yes, they exist. I'd say the majority of people, especially the ones who express the thought over and over again, just don't know what to do with their feelings. They're looking for an outlet, an explanation, validation, solidarity-- something. They're looking to not feel so isolated anymore, having feelings they know they "shouldn't be having." As stated above, our society still doesn't accept the feelings as acceptable even if we've moved the dial on the topic, and they're feeling shame and frustration that they just can't quite move past that.

I don't want to speak for everyone but I do believe I'm very much not alone on this when I say the phrase "I want to die"/"I'm suicidal" with the same type of intent I say, "I want to sleep," or "I'm hungry." I'd rather be awake and full, but, I'm currently feeling compelled to satisfy the urge to go to bed or eat. I'd rather be alive, however, dying feels like a very tempting offer. Inconveniently, of course, that craving happens to have permanent results. Can't go back to living if/when I have enough spoons to keep going, boo.

That's a very confusing sensation to grapple with-- understanding your life is a finite resource you aren't going to be able to get back, but also, being fucking sick of it. It's hard to know what to do about that-- especially because, again, you aren't ALLOWED to feel that way apparently.

If that feeling can be fixed it should, but some of us don't have that luxury. Some of us are broken in a way you can patch up, but we can never be fully restored to a mint-like condition. We still have value, we still are useful and can be fully realized people, if there was only room for us to be taken as we are and not how people want us.

Outrageously irresponsible and fucked Lily had the balls to give advice on this, if that even has to be said. Rest assured, she's on my "To Haunt" list if I do end up offing myself (in Minecraft.)

[byhees]

red noses, hot foreheads.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 1000 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship illness — more

a/n. scheduled!

heeseung

gets really clingy whenever he’s under the weather; wants to simply cuddle next to you and drift off to sleep.

will have his arms draped around you whilst lying down in bed; his eyes flutter open, and he looks up whenever he senses heavy movement— “where are you going, babe?” he’d say, the base of his nose slightly flush, eyes glistening with a light gloss.

would lie his head on your lap, because he likes it when you gently stroke and play with his hair, mood already lifting from the horrible bouts of insistent coughing.

gratefulness just fills his heart whenever he hears your little comments; “i’m sorry you’re sick, my love. i wish there was more i could do to help”— a small smile is already tugging on the corners of his lips; “you’re kinda cute when you’re all grumpy”— he’d proceed to sulk, wanting to earn more compliments from you.

jongseong

would insist that he’s perfectly fine, not wanting to burden you in any way possible; winds up being dragged back to bed after getting caught vacuuming the floors— “babe, if i have to haul you back to bed just so you can get some sleep, i will.”

doesn’t want you fall sick from the close proximity, but doesn’t protest further when you passionately insist on gently massaging his aching shoulders, discomfort washing over his body.

him sitting by the edge of the bed and waiting as you dry his damp hair with a towel, a tiny grin creeping onto his face at the softness of it all.

would prefer hearing your voice, over watching movies; you could be reading out lines of a book, voicing out a post that you found on social media, or simply just talking— he finds all of it calming.

jaeyun

would be ‘clingy’ personified; arm is wrapped around yours at all times, head often resting on your shoulder, hand regularly interlinking with yours.

is pretty dramatic; “baby, i’m being serious.. ack— this might be my last day, so please… tell layla that i love her, on my behalf.”

would try and negotiate little deals with you; one spoon of that disgusting, absolutely revolting, cherry-flavoured medicine, for one simple cheek kiss; he’d already be pointing at his cheek, a knowing gaze fixated on you.

his heart flutters whenever you do the little things, like making him a bowl of warm soup, or drawing him a nice bath; “i love you so much, angel. i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

sunghoon

would probably reassure you that he’s alright; tries to brush off very obvious sniffles as dusty atmosphere, not wanting to cause any worry; stays a good distance away from you, not wanting to spread the sickness to his precious girlfriend.

would, likely, panic the moment you lean within an arm’s length distance of him; is a little hesitant to receive kisses from you, reiterating that you’d fall ill; ends up feigning defeat to your stubborn persistence— the feeling in his heart fills him with paradoxical euphoria.

likes to bury his face into the crook of your neck, fingers lightly drawing shapes onto the surface of your skin; if you were to playfully complain about how much of a ‘human furnace’ he resembled, he’d sulk, lips pursed in a pout.

would purposely ask you to check his temperature once a day, body leaning forward for you to comfortably rest your palm against his forehead; has the lightest blush painting his features at the soft contact.

seonwoo

would stubbornly follow you round the house, finding it uncomfortable to rest without your presence next to him; likes to fiddle with your fingers, or trace the contours of your hand, whilst lightly fluttering his eyes shut.

has the biggest, most radiant smile plastered on his face whenever you lean in to pepper kisses along his fevered face.

would get a little teary-eyed whenever you rouse in the middle of the night to provide some comfort, one hand lightly patting his back, the other holding onto a glass of water; he’d be really overwhelmed with a sense of appreciation.

insists on watching movies with you, even going the extra mile to prepare snacks for the occasion; would fall asleep fifteen minutes into the film, head resting nicely on your shoulder; would wake up the next morning, finding himself snugly tucked into layers of blankets.

jungwon

would constantly tell you that he’s all good and healthy, refusing to admit the toll that the illness has on his body; winds up crashing into your embrace one day, soft groans of discomfort slipping from his slightly chapped lips.

would regularly steal peaks at the space beyond the bedroom, finding it significantly more empty without your gentle touch and warmth.

always takes his medicines without a word of complaint— would, however, scrunch his nose in repulse towards the strange taste; finds your reaction to this endearing.

his stomach would do little flips at small gestures; a few honourable mentions would be— cupping his cheeks to simply express overwhelming adoration, or lifting a finger to wipe off a streak of soup on his face.

riki

would, unexpectedly, cling onto you all day; he simply wants to be close to you— it “lessens the suffering” he says; would probably ask for kisses, lips puckered, eyes lightly squeezed shut; would probably ask for cuddles, arms already outstretched for you.

would wait for you to feed him the medicine, mouth open in waiting; would turn away, a small pout playing on his lips, arms crossed over his chest, when you narrow your eyes— “okay then, i guess your precious, loving boyfriend won’t take his meds.”

likes to rest in your presence, knowing that you’d occasionally push his bangs back to press your hand against his forehead; “you’re hot.” “i know that already, love.”

his face would heat up a little when you hand him a cup of freshly brewed tea, hands touching for a moment; blames it on the illness, despite knowing the sheer speed that his heart’s beating at.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @crxzs @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[redbleedingrose]

I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION (bat boys + Lucien & Eris edition)

What are their sleeping habits? (What do they wear to sleep? what sleeping position do the prefer? Are they heavy or light sleepers etc.) Do they snore?

VERY SERIOUS INQUIRY DESERVES IMMEDIATE ANSWERS!!!!! <33

Rhysand

Okay Rhys prefers to fall asleep in his huge ass bed. Like frl think of like a california king size bed but 5x bigger than that. 

A whole bunch of pillows and blankets everywhere, and he uses at least three

ugh... pampered high lord... hot pampered high lord 

I think he could also fall asleep on the chaise in his office, especially with you on top of him you know?

I think the position he takes truly depends on the day. Sometimes all he wants to do is spoon you because you bring this warmth to him. Sometimes, he wants you to spoon him because he felt the pressure of being high lord all day and wants to feel protected in your arms. 

Sometimes he falls asleep on his belly because he has his wings out, and those nights, he is tugging you to sleep pressed against him with one of his wings wrapped around you in a warm caccoon. The other wing is twitching off the side of the bed 

Under the mountain, this male barely got any sleep and was the lightest sleeper. He would wake up with the crackle of the fire in the hearth.  

I think now though, he is a heavy sleeper, especially when you come into the picture. And he kinda sleeps like a rock, unmoving and without snoring. 

This male could spend hours in bed with his mate and be so fulfilled. He hates waking up and getting out of bed in the morning, it takes him some coaxing on your part 

Some days, you try to roll out of bed to start your day but he won’t let you, tugging at your thigh so you are pulled flush against him, yanking your leg over his waist, mumbling, “As high lord, Im ordering you to come back to bed lady night”

And you just go with it because a day in bed with Rhys??? 

Unmatched

He likes to sleep a full 8 and 1/2 to 9 hours and you are perfectly happy with that because the whole time, you are cuddling with your mate. 

Can I just say... our night court high lord sleeps naked 

Butt naked 

So of course, you also sleep butt naked because it would be weird if one person did and the other didn’t 

And because... 

Easy access I guess 

No because when he finally finds the energy to wake up, he is slipping between your thighs to wake you up in a very fun way 

Azriel

Okay I think Az is a light sleeper and sleeps the least, and I like to think that he does not snore. He also only sleeps in his bed or your bed. 

I think it is just how he has trained himself as spymaster, and even something that he had embedded within childhood. 

He goes to bed super late and is up super early, and his body is fully okay with that. 

But I think when he meets you, he will wake up and stay in bed, cuddling up close to you and rubbing your back up and down as you sleep, sending strokes of love down the bond just to see a small smile quirk at your lips despite being asleep. 

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy to know that even in your sleep, he can make you smile and content 

So he just stares at you for a couple hours, admiring your features and thinking about his life before you, with you now, and his future with you.

He thinks of how he used to dream so many nightmares of his past, haunting him despite being so successful as spymaster and a member of the inner circle. A close confidant and brother to the high lord of the night court. How he forced himself to get up early because he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders... how crushing it felt. 

Now, he cannot help but think of the mornings when you sometimes wake up early, and just groan a little, seeking him out by stretching out your arm and patting at the bed till you eventually find his chest, and you just unconciously snuggle right into his shoulder and fall back asleep. How it forces him to stay in bed for longer. How relieved he feels when you do that. How he feels like the weight that he used to carry has been lifted off his shoulders, sent into the ethers. 

He thinks about the futures when your kids will sneak into bed because they had a nightmare or simply because they also don’t want to get up to start the day and they want to cuddle close with their mommy and daddy. 

His shadows like to dance or hover around you two as you sleep, and the usual cuddle position you take at night is you snuggling into his bare chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. It makes you feel so utterly protected and safe, and Az loves that your scent just wafts up to him throughout the night, keeping him at ease. 

He likes to sleep with just his sweatpants on. He loves not wearing shits or tanks to bed because you oogle his chest, nearly drooling, and he lives for it. 

I think he likes when you wear your little silk colbat blue nighty that hugs at your hips and waist, and shows off your tits. 

He do be fucking you to sleep most days 

And he loves to wake you up with his head between your thighs because he got tired of waiting 

Cassian

Cassian is a fucking heavy sleeper and he also fucking snores 

But it is the most amazing thing because you used to hate the snoring, and you would silently adjust his pillows so he wouldn’t be

But when the general is off on a mission or is visiting Windhaven under Rhys’ order, you genuinely cannot fall asleep without his snores, nor can you stay asleep without his snores. 

Like you truly are up until you pass out from exhaustion, but then you wake up in the middle of the night because you don’t hear your mates snores. 

Eventually, they become this white noise for you that is absolutely necessary for you to fall asleep and stay asleep. 

He also is impossible to wake up in the morning. He luckily wakes up because of his natural sleep clock, but if you are trying to wake him up, he just lifts up his head and mumbles a little, “I’m awake dove,” and then lays his head back down and is back to snoring 10 seconds later

It is so fucking cute I cant 

I think Cass likes to fall asleep on his back with you literally on top of him, laying down on his chest. He just loves the weight of your body on top of him, it feels like a compression blanket and he struggles to sleep without it. 

Sometimes, he likes to fall asleep with his head on your chest because your tits do be acting as soft pillows for him, your heart beat a fucking lullaby. 

You know that you struggle to fall asleep without him. He also struggles to fall asleep without you. 

He is also only sleeping in his boxers because this male runs so fucking hot at night, and so you are basically only wearing your panties to bed because you also wake up practically sweating from his heat that radiates off him. 

Let’s be so for real, Cass could fall asleep where ever he wanted. As long as you are next to him, he is ready to fall asleep. 

Lucien 

I think Lucien is a light sleeper, and he snores pretty softly. Like you can barely hear it but you know its there. I think it is just in his nature to be a light sleeper, he wakes up to whatever little sound he hears, but he is also the kind of male to be able to fall back asleep really quickly after pulling you back close to him

I do think that he likes to sleep facing you with an arm tucked around your waist or hip. You both like your general space because it tends to get hot during the night, but at least one part of you is touching throughout the night in a constant reminder of each others presence. 

I think Luc likes to sleep on his side, with his head wedged against a pillow and his muscled arm. I think at some point during the night, you get close enough that your head is resting on the same pillow. 

You both also choose to use pretty light blankets, opting for the day court breeze against your skin 

And I think that you both love to sleep naked because first off... 

easy access right?

But second off... it is just easier and more comfortable that way. 

I also think that Lucien sometimes, when he is a couple hours into his sleep, sleep talks. 

Like full on conversations with the male can occur that he will not remember when he wakes up 

usually its about how much he loves you. 

Even in his sleep, he is thinking of you and loving on you 

Little mumbles of, “I love my mate” and “She is so pretty you don’t even know” and “Gods I cant live without her” and “Honey you better not eat my pumpkin pie”

Very protective over his pumpkin pie I guess 

He also absolutely loves to take naps with you. He loves pulling you towards your bedroom and tossing you onto the day bed on the balcony so he can take a nap with you. It is just so nice and relaxing and you always wake up feeling so fucking refreshed 

Also can I just say...

his favorite way of waking up is...

Gods this is fucking dirty... eeeeeeee

When you are practically sucking him dry 

Eris

Okay I think I am gonna do a pre-Girl dad!Eris with you and a post girl dad!Eris with you because y’all already know that girl dad!Eris owns my heart and soul and I would die for him 

Pre-Girl Dad!Eris 

Eris is such a light sleeper due to his father. I think the male was always forced to wake up early and he never fully trusted himself to fall asleep fully because he didn’t want his father or brothers doing anything to him. 

Even after his fathers death, and just being with his mate, his habit of being a light sleeper and waking up early stuck with him. And I think that habit will stay with him for the rest of his life. 

But lets be honest, before you, this male was so tired. I think he was hovering through life on the brink of exhaustion and the only times he truly felt alert were around his father or brothers or people from other courts. He has a mask to uphold. 

But everything changed with you... 

He was able to fall asleep quicker. He wasn’t afraid to actually fall asleep and shut off his mind into a dreamless sleep. He would allow for your pulses of love down the bond and strokes of his hair to lull him into sleep. And he would stay asleep until sunrise. And he would wake up so fucking rested and relieved. 

He would wake up, ready to start his day and motivated to make Autumn Court a better place for you, his perfect wife and mate. His favorite person in the entire universe. His reason of living. The sole creator of his happiness and peace. 

He would practically be jumping out of bed, quietly of course as to not wake up, to start his day and make some changes

His favorite moments are when you also wake up and you beg him to come back to bed and snuggle with you. You won’t even go back to sleep, you will just climb on top of him and rest your arms against his chest, and peak up at him through your lashes and whisper about your plans for the day as you count the freckles over his nose and cheeks. 

Sometimes you just stare at him with the most adoration he has ever seen anyone look at someone and it has him flushing under you. 

I think he likes to fall asleep with you pressed as close to him as possible. He wants your legs to be intertwined, he wants to be holding hands with you, he wants his head to be resting on your head, he wants your chest pressed against his. 

I don’t think he snores, I think he kinda sighs in his sleep, very content with the feeling of you so close to him

Also, before you have your babes, you are absolutely sleeping naked. 

And you both love to wake each other up by fucking. 

Sometimes he is waking you up with his head between your thighs or when he is slipping into you to slowly rock you awake 

Sometimes its you sucking his cock like you want his cum for breakfast

Or your personal favorite, when you wake up before him and ride him awake 

Ugh literal perfection 

Girl Dad!Eris 

Okay some things never change.

Eris would still be a light sleeper, he would still love to fall asleep basically melting into you. He still is an early riser 

But he fucking loves mornings as a father 

Because his little babes love to sneak into your bed in the early morning hours, waking up early just like their papa, and snuggling into you and him. 

Twila loves to snuggle into her papa’s arms and Marwa is clinging to your back

And they both are sleeping in between you, perfectly content with the warm that you radiate off 

Safe to say... y’all don’t sleep naked anymore. You wear a silk purple nightgown and he likes to wear matching purple silk pajama bottoms. He does still sleep bare chested, and he loves to feel you and babes snuggle into him in the morning. 

Eris used to be so ready to get out of bed and start his days before his little girls...

But now... 

Now he spends hours in bed, watching your babes cuddle with you. Seeing them reach out for him and cuddle into him. 

And gods, does he love waking up to the tangled mess that is his family. With Marwa’s tiny foot pressed into his face and Twila’s arm punching into his side. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way!!!!!

He also finds it so fucking hilarous whenever his babes are practically on top of you, begging their mama to wake up, practically pealing her eyes open with their tiny fingers. Thats when he yanks them out of bed, much to their giggling, screaming delight, and gets them ready for the day 

He loves to take his girls out on early morning wakes while it is still foggy out with his hounds. 12 of his hounds will go on the morning walk, and only one will stay, the youngest, which sneaks into your bed to snuggle with his masters mate. 

He loves kissing you goodbye in the morning while you are half asleep. He loves your tired smile and he loves your messy hair that he gets to stroke as he kisses every part of your exposed beautiful face. 

And he loves coming back from his walk with the girls, often shushing them as they walk into the home because their mama is still asleep, only to find you at the kitchen counter, ready for the day, smiling bright at your mate and perfect babes, making everyone breakfast that you can eat outside on the porch. 

[xxzlushiez]

Domestic Bliss

2023! B. Kaulitz x GN! reader

Synopsis: just wanted to write some comforting headcanons about 2023 Bill bc he’s just soooo💙💙

Notes: nothing really, fluff, comfort, showers together, ft: Tom, Georg, Gustav & Heidi

A/N: wanted to whip smth up while trying to come up w ideas💀 requests open😭

- So I’ve been dying to do this so let’s just start off with nightly routines

- After dinner or whatever you both do before bed he makes you both do skincare together

- We all know his skin is as clear asf so he always shows you what he uses and loves to use it on you too

- After you headbutt each other on who gets to brush their teeth first if you only have one sink😭

- I feel generally he likes to be pampered in bed so that means your usually holding him

- But sometimes if he’s feeling especially clingy he’ll be the big spoon

- He’s a early bird

- The exact opposite of when he was a kid it kinda just switched

- His mind is always buzzing and so when he wakes up he is just always moving around

- But when he’s feeling particularly slow like a day after a concert he’ll just watch you sleep or play with your hair

- Admiring you

- When he’s really tired he’s a HEAVY sleeper and so he’ll kick and spread out completely

- One time he shoved you off the bed and felt so bad

- Cradled you like a baby

- It hurt him more than it hurt you honestly💀

- Tried to wrap you in bandages but you had to hold him down to get him to stop😭

- installed the fluffiest carpet after so the impact wouldn’t hurt as much💀💀

- In the morning he loves to cook the most

- Has a shelf dedicated to cook books

- chooses a new dish for you both to try each day

- From different flavored waffles to the most extravagant, tropical meals you could never even think of

- Finds it endearing when you cook with him

- You both just move around each other so effortlessly in the kitchen it’s kinda amazing

- If you somehow wake up before him which is almost impossible and make him breakfast he’s just all over it

- Hugging you while you cook and taking pictures of you

- Always posting you two on Instagram

- Tom and Heidi comment the cutest things on his posts

- @heidiklum Vous êtes beaux tous les deux!! (You both look beautiful)

- @tomkaulitz ❤️

- Naturally you got close to the band because he’s around them the most

- Heidi and you became BEST friends and always surprised the twins with silly things like double dates and mini vacations

- He’s a ‘photos for memories’ guy as we all know and you catch him snapping a pic of you doing minuscule things everyday

- Very affectionate and likes to bring you places you usually wouldn’t go to without him

- Your opinion matters so much to him so he likes taking you with him to go shopping and tries on outfits for you

- asking for your suggestions 24/7

- “Are you sure you like this one Liebchen?”

- “Does this make my butt look small?”

- At home he likes to just lounge around with you

- When showering or taking a bath he’s likes letting you lean against him

- Washes your hair for you even if you don’t ask him too

- Brings you on stage because he likes to show you off

- Fans makes the cutest posters of you guys

- Praising you is his fav activity “Aren’t they so cute guys?! ich liebe dich so sehr”

- Fans love you so much

- They go crazy when you’re randomly pulled on stage during a show

- Leans against you when he’s singing

- Unconsciously gives everyone fan service with how he acts with you onstage

[the-little-ewok]

The Little Spoon

Poe Dameron x G/N Reader

Rating: M

Wordcount : 1600 (ish)

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of getting caught during sex/heavy petting, rife with teasing innuendos, soft softness, spooning, brief mentions of food, Poe being an adorable menace.

Prompt / Summary : Burying your face in their neck, listening to their heartbeat, spooning at night. / After a difficult day you and Poe try something new in the bedroom.

A/N : Anon who sent me the prompts - i dont know if fluffy was what you really wanted but… i kinda went pretty fluffy cute with this. If you were hoping more for a NSFW request please send me an ask and i’ll do an alt fic for you :)

If you enjoy this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs!

-------

"Stop!" You half whine, half laugh, burying your face in Poe's neck.

"I don't know if he'll ever be able to talk to you again without blushing!" Poe laughs, clearly finding the fact his newest squad member walking in on you both in a, well, compromising, position, hilariously funny, and your embarrassment even funnier.

Since then poor Leru had been unable to look at you without his cheeks lighting up red, and losing all ability to speak.

"Take it as a compliment it affected him so much," Poe shrugs, taking the whole situation in his stride, as usual. "You can't change what happened, and besides you can't hide out here forever."

'Here' was the grassy bank outside the, what now seemed all too small, base entrance. You had escaped out into the humid night air as soon as your shift was over, convinced everyone you encountered knew the story and was staring at you.

Of course, they already knew that you and Poe were close, but perhaps not quite how close. There had never really been time, during the middle of a war, to consider what you were. And now you were together, both of you wanted to enjoy it without too much fuss. At least while you settled into a new routine, and Poe to his new role as General. So really, getting carried away in what should have stayed an empty office, after Poe had returned from a long mission, was not the best of plans.

But oh, he had been so distractingly hot. The way he'd smiled, his eyes flickering up and down your body, the way he'd pulled you tight against his chest, the way his lips had brushed against your skin.

It was hard to regret what happened. But you did regret getting caught.

"I can stay here as long as I like," you challenge his statement, folding your arms.

"I could just order you back inside," he shrugs with a sigh, making out it would be a huge inconvenience for him to do that.

"You wouldn't dare!" You twist to glare at him in challenge, as Poe leans back to look at you, a serious expression creasing his brow. He slowly raises one eyebrow, before he finally gives in, bursting into laughter.

"No, you're right. I like continuing to live without a vibroblade in my chest, so I guess orders are off the table!" He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tight against him.

"How about I very politely request you come back inside? We can grab some food and get an early night?"

"I don't want to go to the canteen,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on your trousers, unable to remove the idea that everyone would be judging you.

"You know, I don't think anyone else knows? And even if they did, firstly, it's not like they saw anything personally, just second hand, and secondly, if anyone says a damn word I'll have their ass hauled in front of me faster than they can blink!" Poe states passionately.

"That's sweet. But we agreed on no special treatment."

"Not special. I'd do that for anyone talking inappropriately about anyone. You get absolutely no special treatment. I've never given you any special treatment." Taking your chin he tilts your face towards him before he places a soft kiss against your lips.

"Hmm, so you offer that to everyone, do you?"

"Well, everyone is a little broad. More like a select group. You, Finn, Rey, Snap, BB, that really cute medic we met in Yavin," he shrugs with a teasing smile as you roll your eyes. “Now stop overthinking.”

Poe was right, you were over thinking, and as annoying as his teasing could be, you know it comes from a good place in his heart. He simply wants you to see that it's not all bad. Nothing you could do now would change anything that already happened. All you could do was, as Poe does, make the best of the situation.

Still, the embarrassment gnaws a little at your thoughts, though quieter, still there for now.

"Can we eat in your room?"

"Only if we are naked," Poe grins, making you dissolve into laughter.

"Stop that, right now!" You warn through giggles.

"I've been away for almost a month! I've been storing it all up. You are in for a lonnnnnng night, baby," he winks, and for a moment, you`re laughing so hard you forget anything had gone wrong at all today.

~

"I'm sorry," Poe offers later that night, his fingers trailing up and down your back as you lay in his bed, curled up against his side, his heartbeat drumming in your ear as you lean your head on his chest, half asleep.

You hum in question, wondering what he's talking about.

"Earlier. It was my fault we got caught like that. I should have waited. I was just excited to see you and being impulsive. I’ll try and keep my hands to myself for a little longer next time.”

You lean up on your elbow to look at him, frowning in confusion and feeling the tendrils of guilt in your own belly that he feels he's somehow to blame. The last thing you wanted was for Poe to feel he couldn't be his usual, affectionate self.

"There's nothing you need to apologise for. We were both willing participants. I was excited to see you too. You’ve no idea how much I missed you."

Poe's hand slides around the back of your neck, pulling you down to him as he mumbles, "I missed you too, baby," against your mouth before he kisses you.

When he finally lets you go, you have to take a moment, feeling a little giddy, whether with love or lack of oxygen, you aren't sure.

"Anyway, I like you being impulsive," you assure him with a soft smile.

"Then I rescind my apology," Poe chuckles as you snuggle back down against his side, trying to get comfy again.

Except now you have a problem. No matter where you place yourself, you can't quite get comfy enough to fall asleep. Something just feels wrong.

You let out a noise of annoyance, sitting up.

"Turn over," you instruct, laughing as Poe raises a questioning eyebrow, his lips upturning in a familiar grin.

"Is this going a sex thing? Because you know I can stay awake a little longer. I'm sure I can help tire you o-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," You laugh, cutting him off and pressing your hands against his arm, trying to manually roll him over, onto his side.

"So it's not a sex thing? I'm disappointed," Poe sighs over dramatically, ignoring your pathetic attempts to move him.

"I want to cuddle you!" You explain with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, that's what we are calling it these days? Okay, well, we can 'cuddle' as much as you like," he grins, eyes crinkling with amusement as he makes air quotes at you. You make a show of dramatically rolling your eyes in response.

"No, Poe! I mean I want to hold you!"

"Hold which bit?" He wiggles his eyebrows as you try and bite back your laughter. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, telling yourself you are grateful he's home and he just needs to get this out of his system.

When you open them again you fix him with a stern look.

"Alright, alright!" Poe holds his hands up in surrender, clearly deciding he might be pushing too far now. "You want me to be the little spoon?" He asks, obviously having known exactly what you wanted from the first time you asked.

"I want you to be the little spoon." You nod in confirmation. Poe's expression softens from teasing into something that makes your chest ache with love. It's as though the seriousness of the last few years of war drop away, and the boy Poe used to be, stares at you with hopeless adoration.

"I like that idea better," he says simply, before he rolls over with his back to face you. "But I'm still open to the sex thing." He adds, making you snort as you try to contain your laughter, knowing it will only encourage him.

Once Poe is settled, you curl up behind him, wrapping an arm over his chest, tucking your legs in behind his, cuddling up close to him as you press your face between his shoulder blades.

"Don't think I've ever been the little spoon before. I like it," Poe sighs contentedly, his hands resting over yours wrapped around his chest, holding you in place.

You smile and press a soft kiss to his back, "I like it too."

A near silence settles over you both, the only sound in the room your steady breathing as you hold each other. You can feel your eyes finally starting to drift shut, but you also know Poe is not asleep yet, as his fingers continue to gently caress your arm, almost distractedly.

“What are you thinking, Flyboy?” You mumble sleepily against his skin, not wanting to fall asleep if he has something on his mind.

"I was just wondering," he mumbles quietly, “if you think Leru is thinking about us right now?"

"Go to sleep!" You sigh against his back, feeling him shake with barely contained laughter.

"I definitely think he enjoyed it a little bit."

"Sleep!" You hiss, refusing to play into his teasing again.

There's a moment of silence, one in which you think that he's given up with the teasing and finally decided to get some rest. That is until -

"Do you think he wants to join us sometime?"

"POE!"

You can't help but smile as his laughter fills the room. Insufferable, infuriating, pain in the ass. You had missed him, so very much.

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

Please support this by reblogging if you enjoyed it! I live for comments on your thoughts and remember the only way to keep writers writing, is to reblog their work and tell them what you think of it!

[toomiieimagiines]

hi hi there! sooooo, how about some Tsukasa cuddling headcanons? Feel free to ignore if you’ve got better ones! Have a super awesome day! >:D

YOU ALL ARE A BUNCH OF DIRTY DIRTY TSUKASA LOVERS!! WHAT IS WITH HIM THAT YOU LOVE SO MUCH! ToT love a good cuddle hc…. was honestly excited to see it… (can we address how he dresses sometime? what a cutie pie…. honestly, i didn’t really favor kasa before i started writing for him!! he’s so darling!!!>_<) AND SORRY FOR THE MINI HIATUS!! life’s been kinda hard recently!! ^_^||| sorry for it being kinda short!

EDIT: i forgot to add tags like a scatterbrain…. -.- i hope people can still see this…

Tsukasa Tenma cuddling hc’s (+ more!)

Too hot to handle… (LITERALLY)

So so warm, an actual walking furnace, YET HES FREEZING!

“Honey, it’s so so cold please…” (whiny (HOW SURPRISING))

“‘Kasa, baby, I’m sweating…”

LOVES and I mean LOVES to cuddle

Who would believe me if I told them he’d pounce on you at any given opportunity? (OMG wuttt??? that’s soooo unlike him!!)

“Sweeetheart, I just miss you!”

“Honey, please when do I ever ask you for anything??”

Trust if he’s sick he makes it your problem too, like pls unsick me!!

Smells like shortbread

You honestly don’t know why because the only time he wears cologne is if he’s going somewhere fancy, and it’s never sweet

Maybe it’s Sakis weird love for baking, maybe it’s a little fairy who likes to sprinkle him with it while he sleeps, he doesn’t really know.

Favorite positions are ones where you’re facing eachother

Doesn’t really like spooning, he doesn’t find it as satisfying

ALSO VERY PARTIAL TO HIM LAYING HIS HEAD ON YOUR CHEST

He likes your heartbeat!!! Is that a crime?

Will genuinely NEVER let you get back up after

He will fight you… Its infuriating

WRAPS HIS ARMS SO TIGHT AROUND YOU, HES LIKE A TON OF BRICKS

Didn’t know I signed up for cuddling sheetmetal, thanks for the warning!

Honestly, he’s so boyfriend tho it’s insane…. like yes yes of course you’re my boyfriend!

AGHHHA HES SO CUTIEEE!!! i enjoy leaving these drabbles after my hcs!! it makes me feel like i actually did something! keep requesting, sorry if i haven’t gotten to yours yet!! there’s been so many! thank you so much!^w^

Rehearsal sucks, anyone who’s ever done anything knows it, and so does Tsukasa. He’s exhausted, and he knows the one thing that’ll recharge him.

You.

He sends you a text akin to “please let me come over before I die and it’ll be your fault”, and who could say no to that!? That’s how you ended up with a mildly sweaty Tsukasa laying on top of your previously perfectly made bed…

“You’re too warm! I can lay with you, but this is ridiculous!” You squirm, trying to pry the boy off of you. When did he get so heavy?! It’s like a bag of bricks is holding you down!

“Please sweetheart, when do I ever ask you for anything?!” He whines, wrapping his arms even tighter around you.

“Five minutes ago you asked me to scratch your back, you asked me for a drink from the vending machine because you didn’t wanna get your wallet-“

“Never mind!” He cuts you off, covering your mouth. “It’s the last time, I swear! I promise that I won’t ever again!-”

You look up at him, unimpressed.

“For the..” he looks away dejectedly, taking his hand off your mouth, “rest of the time I’m here…”

You snicker at his sudden sheepishness, “what happened to the passion, ‘Kasa?” Your fingers run through his blonde hair, twisting it around your fingers.

“You put the fire out… If you could see my eyes right now, you’d see they’re gray and dull….”

You smack his head playfully, “don’t bite the hands that scratch your back.”

He just sighs, burying his head deeper into your neck. He’s warm, REALLY warm, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind anymore. It really is times like these that make you appreciate him the most. He’s not performing, he’s not playing, he’s just kinda there, and you’re kinda there too. Everything can be so much, but life feels mundane and boring when you two are like this - in a good way! It feels domestic.

“I love you, Tsukasa. Y’know that?” You lift his head up, looking into his eyes. Damnit, he’s looks kinda sweet. It almost makes you feel bad for teasing him… Almost.

He leans into the touch, eyes closing again. His voice is uncharacteristically soft when he replies, “I do. I love you too, a lot.”

A beat passes,

“I’m aloud to fall asleep, right?”

“Tsukasa!”