#COME AT UR OWN RISK!!

[iceb4gw-c]

POOL PARTY AT SOME RANDOM RICH DUDES HOUSE!! heres the invitation man!

Bring it on! If you have questions, ask! Careful tho, someone there might just be an owl in disguise man...

[halfbaked00q]

For the Bond goes to Q's night club and does bdsm badly [tags: bdsm, s/D AU, subspace]:

I sometimes indulge in reading the s/D alternate universe fics. I'm sure they are super problematic; subs sort of have to go into subspace regularly to be healty and yada yada. So all of this is, ya, know. Not how it works irl. Don't take sex-ed from fics kids, but here's a thing, yeah? Cause I like you sprinkling up my dash with wild little 00q ingredients, and so I baked some trashcan cake for you:

He's hanging from the cross in one of the private rooms. Q has just managed to clear everyone out and is now standing here studying Bond and his disconcertingly back-to-normal breathing pattern. He can look his fill for once; Bond's eyes are closed.

His mind is still buzzing from the confrontation with the other Dom. From the way his thoughts had screeched to a halt when he recognized exactly who was at the cross.

He's come to some rapid realizations, the major one being that Bond is, in fact, a sub. All those times he's donned that macho agent persona have somehow been an act.

It boils Q's blood to know that--

To know what exactly? It shouldn't change anything. 007 is one of MI6's most competent agents; his denomination doesn't change that. Of course not. It makes it more impressive, probably.

But as Q watches the tightly controled way Bond counts each breath, his eyes tightly shut, inches from subspace but unable to quite reach it, he can't help but burn.

Bond must have been so fucking desperate to seek it out like this. He shoudln't have had to. Q should have figured it out. He should have stepped in. Should have known.

There's always been something there. The way Bond--James, really--would sometimes look all washed out, eyes snapping to Q as soon as he entered the room no matter how tired he was. The way he'd buckle against orders, but then relent beautifully when Q laced his voice with command just so. The way Q hadn't been able to stop himself from watching him, even knowing--wrongly, it turns out--that they were incompatible.

Standing here, now, Q feels like he's been cored out by a lightning strike. His insides burn with the realization, with how possessive he feels, how much he needs to be the one taking care of him. To make this right.

All in due time, though. First he's going to take care of this mess. Then there will be time to take them somewhere more private (home). To give Bond care and safety and what he really needs. Q is going to make that happen even if he has to bend the whole of reality to his will, he knows this the way he knows he could take apart nations. He's going to get what he wants and there will be nothing standing in his way.

He takes a breath and centers himself. He can do this.

"James," he says, the name feeling oh-so-right on his lips, "Open your eyes for me."

HELLO. HI. HELLO.

and yea just to repeat what I said before- anon if bdsm aus are bad then I dont wanna be right dot meme. I love bdsm aus and like. cmon are they any more ""problematic"" so-called than, like, A/B/O, or like what ppl have turned Sentinel/Guide AUs into (like the ones where there's an invented society where guides are systematically oppressed dare I say, even, rather like trafficked or enslaved?) etc etc

but um 😳😳😳😳😳 the fact that u took the concept & made it a BDSM AU.... and Bond is a sub that no one knew is a sub, and the way it being BDSM adds an Edge to the "needs the relief of subspace but Can't so seeking like a brute-force override via an excess of pain"....... ough ough ough. i feel like im chewing on a live wire zzzzzzzzztttt. kisses on the moutb for you too mwa mwa ough ough woof

[causenessus]

feeling like tumblr is a job BUT IN A GOOD WAY like i sign on after my actual job onto my work (tumblr haikyuu smau writer hobby) computer (my home computer on it's last dying breath) to answer emails (reblog all of my moot's wonderful works) and write up reports (my own chapters LMAO)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

LIVING for your ponytail Yugi he’s so cute 😭💖

thank u! i hold dear in my heart the way yuugi is like a little plushie that wants nothing more than to die a noble death

[1eos]

so you also saw that tradwife who wanted a trip to greece but her husband got her an egg apron instead 🙃 or was it just a general post

i also saw that 🥴 what got me was i first saw ppl talk for almost a week abt just the fact that she wanted a trip and got an apron instead. im thinking the guy is just regular smegular stingy and when i finally got all the details all i could do was put my head in my hands. rich traditional man bypassing all the women in the world who grew up in the country and had farm experience and havent had career goals beyond being a sahm to charm a girl who believed the lie that she could be traditional, while maintaining her own dreams and broke her down to be nothing but a impregnable maid :/

and, as always, im not knocking people who want kids or anything. bc theres a big difference between being a celebrated individual that happens to be a wife and mother and the specific kind of dehumanization traditional families reduce wives/mothers to. and ofc u have the ppl being like 'she's happy! get out of her business! you're reaching why do you think something is wrong with this life?' in the article that sparked all this she admits that her husband was behind her not getting any pain relief during birth 🙁and he won't LET HER hire help 🙁 despite 8 kids 🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁 and just lets her work herself to an early grave 🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁

but what made me mad is that despite the rise in trad wife propaganda we're also getting A LOT of testimony from the women living in the reality of the fantasy and its so clear that no matter how much money these men have these women are living lives that compare more to fucking indentured servants in the 18th century and yet!!!! some women will look at the reality and be like 'damn 😔see the lesson is to get with a rich and generous man' ARE YOU DAFT??????

[lokissweater]

hey i really really love your fics and the way you write youre so talented! ive been searching for a virgin!yuji x virgin!reader for so long and my life would literally be urs if you wrote this. if not no worries, i totally get it.

sending love! - anon

OH THIS IDEA IS HOOOOTTTTT AND U BEST BELIEVE IM ALL OVER IT!! thank you for your sweet words and for sending in a request!! i hope you like it!! :] <333

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oh my god, pretty!

{yuji itadori x f!reader}

summary: your relationship with yuji was semi new and cute, you both absolutely adoring the fuck out of one another since the moment you met. one thing you have in common though? you’re both loser virgins with absolutely no experience whatsoever, and on one night where you’re both innocently cuddling on the couch watching a movie— yuji goes NUTS.

warnings: MDNI. college!au, afab!reader, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll), accidental creampie LOL, yuji is a little perv, smut with barely any plot she goes straight to the good stuff, cursing, pet names, fluff, FILTHYYYY this is filthy, all characters are aged up.

word count: 3.9k

authors note: PHEEWWWW THIS ONE HAD ME MEOWING LIKE A KITTY CAT AND I HOPE YALL MEOW WITH ME!!! thank you for your support always, that is an absolute given, i love you and i love you forever. MWAAAHHHH <3333

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“are you okay baby?”

no you were not.

because yuji was in a black tight compression tee and pj’s while you both were watching a movie together and cuddling on your living room couch, the sleeves of his shirt accentuating his biceps and the rest of it squeezing over his pecs and torso, the brightness of your tv illuminating all of his sharp handsome features that had you gnawing at your nails in a nervous fit— him looking at you with pinched eyebrows.

yuji and you had just started dating a couple of months ago— his lively overly friendly personality winning you over without really much effort at all, and your genuine sweet one catching his heart the minute he saw you come into one of his lectures last year, looking soul killingly beautiful and radiant, the both of you befriending each other quickly as your interests aligned.

and you started hanging out on and off campus a lot more frequently after that— gradually falling more and more in love until yuji finally gathered up his jumpy nerves and asked you to be his girlfriend.

there was a problem though.

neither of you had had sex before, or had done anything in between the lines with other people before you got together.

it was the first thing that yuji worried about when he first started dating you— embarrassed and afraid that you would think he was a big fat loser with no game and that he would potentially run the risk of losing you, you maybe preferring a man of experience to match your own needs.

but when he admitted that to you, and when you shook your worried little head and told him you were in the same exact boat as him, he was fucking elated— his apprehensions crumbling down like a landslide and replaced instead with the giddiness of getting to do stuff with you for the first time ever, and him being the man (the only man ever he hoped) to get to do it to you.

but then there was another problem.

neither of you seemed to want to start anything, the both of you hesitant and scared because of your lack of experience— petrified of humiliating yourselves if one of you tried and pathetically failed at it or did something incorrectly.

“mhm! fine.” you smiled sweetly, your calm voice a completely different contrast to what was currently happening inside your reeling fuzzy brain.

you had both definitely talked about it, the subject of intimacy. but it was always something that the two of you reassured each other would happen eventually when you were both ready, that there was no rush— choosing to brush the subject off like it was nothing.

except it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing. and you were both way past fucking ready, especially yuji, him practically ripping apart at the seams with horn dog need anytime he saw you wear those little skirts that you like so much, or whenever you’d straddle his lap during one of your daily makeout sessions— his hands literally trembling over your ass in attempts at being respectful of pretty ol’ you, settling for placing them on your upper back instead.

and you would internally pout, disappointed, because you always without fail noticed all of this yet you were too shy to mention anything or do something about it on your own.

“you sure?” he asked softly. “you look like you’re thinking about something.”

he raised a hand and gently poked your cheek repeatedly with his index finger, a silly smile on his face. “tell me baby tell me baby tell me baby—”

you giggled, “i’m okay! just zoned out.” you pushed his finger away, leaning up and pressing a quick shy kiss to his cheek that made him instantly flush pink in return, a wobbly smile spreading across his face.

in the midst of you retreating back to your previous position, yuji caught your chin with his fingers and turned you to look at him, your cheeks blushing as he stared at you with lovesick dreamy eyes.

“can we— um.” his gaze flickered to your lips. “can we make out.”

your eyes widened slightly and your hands grew clammy fast, cheeks buzzing as you stared back at him.

since making out was the only thing you both properly conquered, it happened almost every single time you saw each other, the act practically filling in and making up for the more lewd exchanges you both were missing out on, your kisses always sloppy and messy but heated— though each time it came around to it you were often just as nervous as the first time.

“s—sure!” you stammered. “you don’t have to ask me yuji… you can just— y’know… do it..”

he bit his tongue, your timidness for some fucking reason sending a shock of arousal through his veins and straight down to his dick as he tried his best to swallow it and not make it obvious for you.

“okay!”

he brought your face closer then and kissed you, a solid one at first, until you slowly parted your lips and ushered him in, deeper, your body moving closer to his on its own as he immediately responded with placing a hand on your leg to throw it over his lap, your mouths wet and slippery as he properly settled you to sit on him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the movie drowned out completely in the background as a sequence of lip smackings echoed throughout the room, yuji’s hands on your upper back like always as you continued to make out… until you felt a little stinging cramp in your knee— moving your hips a little bit to readjust, utterly unaware of how you accidentally applied pressure over yuji’s crotch as he sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled away.

“fuck don’t do that baby don’t do that.”

you froze, hands quickly retracting back to your chest. “what? what do what?”

“oh—” he froze, eyes wide and cheeks pink as his mouth opened and closed like a fishy out of water.

he couldn’t possibly tell you why, not wanting to scare you away by admitting that you grinding down on his crotch like that made his dick jerk and mind haze in the most filthy and perverted way imaginable, feeling like he wanted to dig himself a big fat grave of horny shame to throw himself into as he watched your pretty eyes look at him the way that they were, wanting that same look but underneath him instead—

your bent knee cramped up once more and you hissed, moving your hips again except this time harder, yuji’s eyes flying open as the grip around your upper torso tightened, a strangled whiny hum escaping his throat.

your eyes snapped to his at the sound, now feeling something hard poking your clothed pussy as your brain finally put fucking two and two together, your hand slapping over your mouth in embarrassment at what you did and over your stupid delayed realization.

“oh! yuji i’m so sorry i— i didn’t realize—”

he shook his head rapidly, his cheeks and ears red as he shakily smoothed his hands over your hips comfortingly.

“no baby! don’t be sorry it’s okay!” he quickly kissed your forehead. “i—it’s me… it’s not you at all…”

but there was something else behind his eyes, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he just stared at the place where your body met his crotch, hands slowly gripping your hips tighter in a certain way and… and actually moving you now in a certain way that made you promptly realize he was grinding you against him, pleasure quickly twitching at your clit in response as flat hands flew to his chest to stabilize yourself.

“what— what are you doing?” you stammered, your chest heaving a little.

“s—sorry!…” he mumbled, eyes still trained to the same area. “it just— felt kind of good… so..”

yuji peered up at you, a cautious look on his face as he eyed you curiously with his pinky cheeks bright— hesitantly indulging in his overwhelming sick need for you, as simply making out was just not cutting it anymore ever since he got a taste of how something like this could feel a couple of seconds ago.

and your thoughts were identical to his.

timidly, you slid your hands up slowly to rest back on his manly shoulders, the rough material of his compression tee under your fingers making you literally squeeze your hole around nothing, eyes nervously darting around his face.

“o—okay…”

his hand came up to brush some of your soft hair over your shoulder, his thumb moving in to caress gently over your hot cheek.

“can i… can i do it again?”

you shakily nodded, and he gripped your hips again before moving you just like he did before, your crotch coming down to meet his slowly and cautiously as your mouth partially hung open at how good it actually felt, yuji staring at your expression with blown out pupils and nearly drooling over it.

but he wanted more, his hands moving you then to grind on him a little faster, his hips coming up to meet yours at the same time as you shyly met him halfway— quick and stuttery until all of a sudden you were full blown humping into each other like rabid dogs, your tiny whiny moans setting him the fuck off as he captured your lips again to make out with you, fearing if he let you quietly moan like that for his ears to selfishly drink up that he was going to end up busting in his pants.

“y—yuji…” you whimpered in between kisses.

“yeah baby?” his husky voice sent another electrical shock of ecstasy through your body, your fingers gripping his shirt in tiny fists as you didn’t even know what exactly you were pleading him for.

but he knew.

he wrapped his arms entirely around you and moved so that you were laying flat on your back now, yuji in between your legs as he kissed you sloppily while grinding himself back on you again, him literally mimicking how it would be to fuck you as you squeezed his biceps for support, your thin pajama shorts feeling his hard cock bulging from his pj pants and rutting against your cunt desperately with every hump.

yuji, literally trapped in a dimension of arousal and nasty fucking thoughts of you with every moan that slipped past your puffy soft lips, had him reaching and tugging down on the waist band of your shorts like an animal, your baby blue panties with a little ribbon bow in the middle making him nearly choke on his spit.

your hand quickly came to clasp around his wrist, stopping him.

“y—yuji my parents! i don’t know if we should—”

“oh fuck—” he whispered, looking up to the top of your staircase and down where your parents were sound asleep, gnawing so much on his bottom lip in cock blocked agony that he accidentally drew blood.

and you didn’t know why, but the urge was unforgiving as you reached up and cupped his hot sweaty cheeks, pulling his face down as you stuck your tongue out and licked over his bleeding lip.

yuji stared, eyes wide, before he let out a low guttural grown and shoved his face into the crook of your neck.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

you were fucking killing him.

he rolled his leaky cock slowly into you again, his shoulders trembling at the cold feeling of his wet boxers that were literally covered in pre cum the moment your pretty plush thighs sat over his lap, you speaking up.

“m—maybe—”

he pulled back fast.

“yeah?”

“maybe if you just— look. that… that should be fine, right?”

“yeah yeah!” yuji’s invisible tail was practically wagging over your words. “look uh huh! just look baby.”

you bit your lip, slowly reaching down and tugging as both of yuji’s hands went flying down to help you, pulling them over your thighs and down to your ankles before setting them behind him on the couch with a soft thud.

you kept your thighs closed, shy and timid as you realized yuji hadn’t seen you like this yet… your cheeks flaring in embarrassment as he pulled your knees apart and gawked at the vision before him, yuji looking at you like you had built the entirety of rome by yourself with your bare hands.

you hadn’t noticed yet, but your panties were drenched— a patch of wet spread over your lips that literally outlined the anatomy of your pussy to a t, leaving little to the imagination as his eyes stayed locked on your clit in a complete trance.

“oh my god, pretty!…” he murmured, his index finger coming down to softly touch and rub your puffed up clit over your panties, you squeaking in response and slamming your thighs closed again.

“sorry! sorry!” he sputtered, frantic as he came down to peck little kisses on your cheek apologetically, your eyes shut, bashful. “did that hurt? i didn’t mean to i’m sorry—”

“n—no!” you shook your head and slowly peeked your eyes open. “it didn’t… just felt s—sensitive.”

his shoulders relaxed in relief, nodding, his eyes widening in delight when you spread your legs back open for him again, your panties literally stuck slick to your pussy at this point.

yuji’s fingers pressed against your folds, him wanting to just feel the way your little wet lips mushed up against his digits, his curious hand directing him slowly up over your clit and back down by your virgin hole as he breathed hard through his nose, trying to get himself to calm the fuck down over your cunt and not freak you out.

but what he was doing felt good, him having no idea as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth with your eyebrows screwed together in euphoria, his ears perking up at the sounds of your sweet little moans and whines the more pressure he applied to it.

and then he got an idea.

as you were distracted getting riled up by his fingers, yuji shoved his other hand under his wet pajama pants and boxers, pulling out his throbbing cock and pumping it a little as his angry tip leaked with every jerk— a drop oozing down and landing right on your nub before rolling over your panties as he breathed out a string of hushed curses.

yuji replaced the hand on your pussy with his cock, his length and tip pushing up in between your sopping cunt and back down, completely soiling your panties with a mix of your arousal and his pre cum as he rolled his hips into you again, you not noticing at all until both of his rough hands came to grip and squeeze over your inner thighs, your eyes fluttering open as you wondered why it felt way better than before, them bulging once you saw his thick long dick slipping and sliding hurriedly against your pussy.

“b—baby!” you moaned breathlessly, but yuji literally could not hear you as his dazed droopy eyes stayed focused on your swollen puss while he continued to rut.

“uh huh..?..” he panted. “what’s wrong sweetheart…”

your words lodged themselves in the back of your throat as a particular rough thrust made you choke and clamp your mouth shut, squeezing your eyes shut in response with your sensitive nub pulsing as you felt yuji’s leaky sticky cum all over you.

“does it— does it feel good?” his eyes finally trailed up to look at you, his already fucked out expression and flushed face forming a yummy pit in your stomach that you recognized as your release whenever you fingered yourself, except that feeling no where near as good as what you felt right fucking now.

“mhm..” you moaned and licked your lips.

yuji’s fingers slid up from your inner thighs and to the straps of your panties, fiddling and playing with them as he rolled his hips like a little perv, his tip at times falling and literally sinking into your gaping virgin hole a bit— your panties a thin stretchy wall that frustratingly stopped his cock from going, slipping back upward instead.

“baby…” he moaned lowly, whispering. “maybe we should just have sex right now…”

you gasped. “right now?! i don’t know yuji my— my parents— and we’ve never—”

he leaned down and sloppily kissed you, speaking in between each smack.

“they’re asleep it’s—” mmphf— “it’s okay—”

yuji already had his middle finger hooked under your wet panties as he started pulling down, you squeaking at the cold breeze hitting your bare clit.

“i want to but— hic!”

he rubbed his tip over your entrance a bit, pooling your juice up.

“what if— what if we get too loud? and they come downstairs—”

he shook his head. “i’ll keep on a lookout pretty don’t worry about it...” he murmured. “you just relax while i pump my cock in, yeah?”

you whimpered, nodding quickly and pathetically as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down flush against your chest, suctioning tiny sucks on his jaw to keep you from moaning the loudest you’ve moaned all night as he started pushing in, yuji’s mind in a literal fucking state of delirium as his dick was finally gonna be buried in your cute pussy after wanting it for so long.

you hiccuped against his jaw, your arms gripping him tighter as he stretched you out so good, feeling a little pinch in your walls that made you spread your legs wider in attempts at alleviating it.

“ohhhh fuckkkk baby—” he moaned loud and you quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“shhh honey shhh—”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—”

his voice was muffled against your hand as he pumped deeper, your squeal catching itself in your throat and his body fucking shivering at the way your tight slobbering walls sucked him in without him having to even push, your hole clenching around him and pumping more strings of stray pre cum out inside you.

“my god do that again please do that again—” he panted, reeling his hips back slowly and pushing in at a steady rhythm.

“d—do what?” you panted, your eyes closing in pleasure.

“squeeze— shit!— squeeze me please please—” he begged, pressing wet open mouthed kisses on your cheeks as he licked up your little overstimulated tears.

“like— like this?”

you clenched your hole again and his body jerked, his choked moans huffing in your ear as he rolled and snapped his hips faster.

“mm! yuji my god—” you squealed and he placed a hand over your mouth, the both of you now covering over each others as he proceeded to drill his hips in, the couch squeaking with every messy hit.

your hand tightened over his lips the louder he moaned, your eyes silently pleading with him to be a little quieter, but him too lost in the milking of his cock and the way your fucked out face looked as he couldn’t connect the dots with what you were asking of him, suddenly your blurry brain coming into reasonable consciousness for a second as you became aware of the fact that you weren’t even using protection.

“b—baby—” you muffled against his hand. “we’re not using a— mmm! c—condom we need—”

smack smack smack—

“shit i don’t— i don’t have one sweetheart.” he stifled, and yuji only went faster then, harder and jerky as his awkward virgin hips jolted you up and down on him, your eyes rolling back. “s’okay i’ll just pull out m’kay? i’ll pull out—”

his snappy pace brought your brain back into your previous dumb erotic state, nodding dazedly as he scooched his hand down and shoved his middle and ring finger inside your wet mouth, your tongue slobbering over his digits before your lips lewdly closed around them and sucked.

yuji was not keeping a lookout for your parents.

“oh fuck baby you look so fucking pretty doing that…” he choked. “you look so so pretty under me and taking my dick—”

“mhm..” you moaned around his fingers, drool seeping out of your mouth and down your chin as you felt like you were on the brink of cumming and squelching all over him.

“i’m gonna pull out soon okay? i feel—” pant— “i feel like i’m cumming—”

you pulled back from his fingers with a pop and licked your lips, nodding vigorously as you squeezed your eyes painfully shut, your release washing over you like a prickly wave with your mouth hung wide open and your vision blowing bright white.

but in the midst of you creaming, you accidentally clamped your thighs shut around yuji as he tried to slip his dick out.

“fuck! i can’t—” pant— “baby open your legs please im gonna— fuck fuck fuck!—”

yuji’s cum pummeled inside you and filled you the absolute brim as he gasped and whined in your ear, his balls draining so much of it into you that it took no time at all for it to slip past your hole and onto your couch below, the both of you heaving heavily with your clothes stuck against your sweaty sticky bodies.

“are you—” he swallowed. “are you okay baby? i’m sorry i came inside—”

“it’s okay it wasn’t you—” you tried to regulate your breathing. “it— it was my fault… i trapped you in…”

you sheepishly looked at him and gnawed at the inside of your cheek in shame, your face only making him lazily grin and press a hard loving kiss to your cheek.

“it’s okay. we can figure it out later!”

he peeled away from you and sat up, his softening cock still buried inside as he slowly pulled out and watched the rest of his cum spurt out, taking one of his shaky fingers and collecting some before pushing it back in your hole.

“don’t put it back in yujiiii!” you whined.

“sorry! sorry sorry—” he grabbed your wrist gently and kissed the back of your hand, his pinky cheeks vibrant as he looked at you with a wobbly shy smile. “i— i couldn’t help myself…”

you giggled. “s’okay honey.”

he laid his body back over yours, being mindful not to squish you as he leaned some of his weight on his arms, cutely pecking your puffy lips over and over until he was satisfied with the amount, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck after.

“m’glad my first time was with you yuji…” you murmured into his ear, your words causing his heart to literally bang against his chest as he felt like he was on cloud nine with you underneath him like that.

“i’m glad it was with you pretty.” he pushed, looking into your fucked out eyes with sincerity. “and i hope it stays that way. just my dick.”

you laughed loudly, your hand quickly coming up to cover your mouth as he giggled.

you pecked his nose sweetly and readjusted your hips, your cum covered pussy brushing against his cock again, the blood immediately rushing back to it faster than a speeding fucking bullet.

he traced a loving finger across your bottom lip delicately, a little grin on his face.

you quirked a brow. “what?”

“can we um—“ he quickly kissed you. “can we try doggy style right now?”

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taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree

[sixeyesonathiel]

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— a guide to ditching the world’s most persistent nerd! , love comes in small sizes , love thy neighbor , kill switch

౨ৎ LOCAL DISRUPTIONS: SHORT FICS .ᐟ

— roses bloom the prettiest in ruin , no one else needed to notice , all’s fair , love & war , wherever you want it, baby, i’m taking you there! , bet on blue , ivy , panopticon , illicit affairs , warmth waits here , skip me again and i’ll glitch your heart , shy girls suck the best , infinite void? more like infinite errands! , even softer than expected , co-parenting? no. co-pettying. , bite your tongue, i like it better bloody , call it first aid , you ever draw someone so hard you ride them?

౨ৎ PSYCHE PROFILE: SATORU GOJO .ᐟ

— rich boy roommate satoru , frat boy satoru , roommate satoru , clanhead satoru , pirate satoru

౨ৎ OFF THE RECORD: DRABBLES .ᐟ

— satoru x oblivious reader , making satoru blush , satoru’s pint sized copy fails the quiz satoru helped him review , satoru being a tease , yandere satoru w/ servant reader , isekai’d game protag nerdjo x not so npc saintess reader , lost princess reader x etiquette teacher satoru , satoru ’helping’ you take a pregnancy test , satoru vs your period mood swings , temporarily genderbent satoru showing up on ur first date , satoru bakes cookies , magical girl reader x satoru , delulu & yearning nerdjo x shy reader , kid satoru and shikigami reader <- pt. 2 , pt. 3 , basketball player satoru drawing his artist girlfriend reader , childhood friend satoru carrying you so your socks don’t get wet , satoru accidentally tasting your mascara while comforting you , satoru and the five second rule , ragebaiting nerdjo , satoru taking too big of a bite on your cheeseburger , married off to the mysterious gojo heir , cowboy satoru saving you from bandits (you’re one of them) , brushing time with satoru , luxury shopping with satoru , male manipulator satoru and girl failure reader , satoru and correction kink , soldier satoru and nurse reader , knight satoru and princess reader , photography club pres satoru and journalism club pres reader <- pt 2 , vampire satoru and gf reader <- him eating u out on ur period , love is war: divorce edition

[mostly-imagines]

NSFT Alphabet

jason todd x afab!reader

warnings: >18 i’ll block ur ass stay away 18+

A = AFTERCARE

Aftercare is just as important to him as sex itself, if not more so. He’ll lay with you until you catch your breath, giving light kisses to the nearest part of your body. Once you’re back to baseline, he’ll get a warm rag to clean you up, being more gentle than he needs to be with your sensitive body. If you want it, he’ll grab one of his shirts for you to wear and pull it over your head for you. He’ll cover you up in your blankets and hold you close, murmuring to you how pretty you are, how good you did for him, how much he loves you.

B = BODY

His favorite body part of his own is his arms. He likes how strong he is, plus they emphasize his frame which plays into his size kink too. For you, it’s your waist. As we’ll discuss more later, he loves holding onto your hips during sex and he’s a big fan of kissing down your stomach as a way to initiate.

C = CUM

He prefers to come inside of you most of the time, but he likes coming in your mouth or on your body too. He will not come on your face though, he feels like it’s disrespectful to you, even if you’re into it. He’s a big guy and he comes a lot—more than he wished he would. That's part of the reason he’d rather come in you than on you, he thinks it’s embarrassing how much comes out. The first couple of times you had sex he’d tried to distract you with kisses as he came, hoping you wouldn’t notice it. Once he learns that you don’t mind it though, even like it, it eases his anxieties considerably.

D = DIRTY SECRET

He’s definitely masturbated once or twice when you were asleep next to him and he didn’t want to wake you. He felt gross about it but you looked so good with the way his shirt rode up against the curve of your ass, your panties on display. Your cheek was mushed up against the pillow next to him and he wanted to kiss you silly more than anything, but you had to be up early in the morning. So he took care of it himself, admiring your pretty face. No, he’ll never tell you that happened.

E = EXPERIENCE

He’s had sex just enough to know that he has a big dick and has to be careful when he’s fucking someone. Before you it was mostly a method of blowing off steam, but it wasn’t something he craved like he does with you. There was always minimal kissing, if any, and it was more procedural than anything. So when it comes to romantic sex, his experience was 0 but that makes it that much better. He didn’t have too much experience otherwise and he was fine with that. He had more important things to worry about than sex. That was, until he met you.

F = FAVORITE POSITION

He likes anything where he can hold your hips the most. So cowgirl and missionary are never misses, especially for how well he’s able to see your face. He also likes fucking you against the wall, it makes for easy access to kiss you. In spite of how much he loves seeing your expressions during sex, he can’t deny how much he loves holding your hips in place during doggy. His least favorites are probably prone bone and reverse cowgirl, they’re too impersonal and dispassionate.

G = GOOFY

He’s going to take it very seriously the first handful of times. He’s not taking any risks about hurting you or making the experience anything short of extremely pleasurable for you. And in his mind, to do that he needs to focus. After you get more comfortable with each other though, he starts to relax and trust himself to be able to take care of you, even with a more laid-back attitude. The silliest sex you have will be when you’re drunk/tipsy, it’s very smiley and giggly. Generally, he’ll make jokes now and again, smile at your smiles, but he’s still more serious about sex than not.

H = HAIR

He’ll trim to keep up appearances, especially after he meets you, but it’s not something he’s overly concerned about. For you, he’s really truly completely neutral about whether or not you shave, but he’s likely to encourage you not to, if not only so you know you don’t have to change anything for him. But he won’t blink twice either way.

I = INTIMACY

Sex with you is always intimate for him. He tells you he loves you during it often, praising you constantly. He brushes your hair back when it gets messy and wipes your tears away with a gentle hand. He’ll call you beautiful and kiss you nice as he fucks you, holding your hand all the while.

J = JACK OFF

He rarely needs to get himself off, really only if he’s away on a mission for a while. It’s definitely not the preferred circumstances but he’ll make do when he has to. He feels like a fucking perv when he thinks about you while he’s doing it, but he can’t come otherwise. He knows you wouldn’t care but he still feels gross about it. The way he remedies this is usually by communicating with you directly, telling you how much he misses you and how much he wants you there with him.

K = KINKS

Above all else, he has a major size kink. He absolutely loves how much bigger than you he is and it gets him going at the most random times. He likes being stronger than you and making you go/stay where he wants you. On a related note, he also likes to restrain you. The implied deepness of the trust you have in him turns him on so bad. Plus, he likes being in control, and you not being able to wiggle gives him the chance to take care of you however he wants. Edging is another one he likes but he’s not always so good at it. He has a hard time denying you and when you’re begging him so sweetly to let you come…who is he to say no? Though, if you’ve been a bit of a brat he’ll be merciless about it. On the flip side, sometimes he’ll overstimulate you but it’s not his favorite of the two because he can’t always handle seeing you cry like that. But he does like the idea of you getting lost in so much pleasure that you don’t know what to do with yourself.

L = LOCATION

His favorite place to fuck you is anywhere in your apartment. Your bed, shower, kitchen, couch, the rug…He likes it a) because it’s private and he’s free to take care of his girl whenever he wants and b) he likes seeing you in the same spot going about your day where he’d made you come just a few hours ago. He’s also not opposed to subtle car sex, especially for going down on one another. He’s not a big fan of public stuff, if he were to do it, it would be in a situation where he was certain you wouldn’t get caught. He’s too private to get off on the risk and frankly, he doesn’t much like the potential of someone else seeing you the way he gets to see you.

M = MOTIVATION

He gets turned on by just about anything you do. If you wear tank tops, his clothes, shirt and no pants, those will all get him going. Then there’s things like play fighting, seeing you stick up for yourself (especially against him), when you yell, if you just touch him. He really is in love with you and everything that you do.

N = NO

JTLHGF!jason is mainly dominant, but he can be submissive for you if you approach it the right way. You’d have to be subtle and encouraging or else his pride will get in the way. Anything him or you do in these times would be very soft and gentle, more vanilla than anything for the sake of reassurance. His biggest no here is restraints. Sex requires a lot of trust for him and as much as he does trust you, he would feel much too vulnerable tied up and he wouldn’t like it. However, when he’s the one in control he’s not afraid to be more…adventurous. That being said, he wouldn’t be into choking you or hitting you. I think even if you were very clearly into it, it would make him feel bad about himself on multiple levels. He doesn’t want to hit you, even sexually, and hates the idea of his hands around your neck. Public stuff makes him uncomfortable and degradation is a hard no for him.

O = ORAL

He prefers going down on you by a mile. He’s usually hesitant to let you do it, he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to or for you to potentially lose any pleasure during sex. He really does think it should be all about you and he has a hard time grasping that making him feel good makes you feel good too. He likes to hold your hands when he eats you out, or your waist. He doesn’t want to lose any physical contact with you—it’s a very intimate thing and he’ll treat it as such. He’s also been known to rub soothing patterns into your waist or wrap his arms around your thighs to hold them apart. When you give him head it’s overwhelming for him. He denies himself of it so much that he can’t handle it when he actually gets it. He likes to hold your hands here sometimes too, but more often than not he’s holding your hair out of your face so he can see you—the gentle weight of his opposite hand on the back of your head. He’ll struggle to catch his breath, lips parted.

P = PACE

It all depends on the mood for him. He can and will switch it up as needed. He can be very intense and rough, fast thrusts and heated kisses. This can be passionate or angry sex. He can also take it very slow and sensual, and depending on his mood, this can be either very romantic or very torturous.

Q = QUICKIE

He doesn’t really like quickies that much, he definitely prefers to take his time with you. Quickie’s don’t really allow him to prep you properly, something that’s incredibly necessary when having sex with him. Anyways he wants to make sure he’s able to give you the best experience possible and he can’t do that if he’s rushing. No, he really prefers to take as much time with you as possible.

R = RISK

As mentioned, he’s not much for risky situations. The riskiest he’ll get is car sex or sex at the manor. He might make out with you in an alleyway but he won’t full-on do it with you outside. He doesn’t want to be caught, doesn’t want to worry about it when he has more important things to focus on.

S = STAMINA

He can go for several rounds most nights and even needs to often. He feels bad about it sometimes though, he feels like one round should be enough for him and he shouldn’t need to take even more from you. Once he eventually gets it through his head that it’s okay for him to need more, he’s relentless. The thing about him is that he requires little to no recovery time post-orgasm before he’s on you again so you might have to remind him to slow down a little.

T = TOYS

He’s not the biggest fan of toys, honestly. He doesn’t like the idea of a piece of plastic making you come, doing his job for him. It also means he’s less hands on and he doesn’t like that at all. That’s not to say he wouldn’t use them ever, he just wouldn’t go out of his way to make it happen. If you had a vibrator or something and you wanted to use it he probably would, if not only so you don’t use it by yourself instead. Beyond that there’s not too much I see him wanting to use, nothing very intense for sure.

U = UNFAIR

He’s a big tease but doesn’t always have the capacity to see it through. If you beg him just the right way he just has to give you what you want. Until you’re able to crack that code though, he seems like an unbeatable force. He’s constantly touching you and it’s hard for you to tell if it’s absentminded or if there’s something more behind them. He’s an expert at attacking that one spot on your neck and getting you just as desperate as he is within a matter of minutes.

V = VOLUME

He’s a groaner and a grunter, low and deep. He, maybe intentionally, stops himself from moaning more often than not, especially when you’re first together. The best way to get him to make noise is to suck just below his jawline, caress over his v-line, or blow him. He can’t control himself when you do any of that.

W = WILD CARD

Jason secretly loves it when you give him as much shit as he gives you. He loves when you tease him, when you tell him “no, we’re not having sex you were being mean.” He can’t stop himself from smiling when you yell at him and he doesn’t even wish he could. As much as he doesn’t want to be submissive, he loves it when you don’t either.

X = X-RAY

Yeah so he’s 8.5 inches hard. He’s a big guy, it stands to reason that he’d have a big dick. It’s fat too, enough to make you cry the first time you take him.

Y = YEARNING

His sex drive is pretty fucking high after getting with you. It operates half as a means of affection and half as a stress reliever. And boy does he need stress relief. There’s phases where he wants you as much as every day, but more often than not it’s like 3-4 times a week.

Z = ZZZ

He wants you to fall asleep before him afterwards, he thinks it’s rude or something if he dozes off first. He’ll often brush his fingers up and down your back, easing you into sleep. If he’s not tired afterwards he’ll read while you nap on his chest, comforted by the in and out of your breaths.

[bloomzone]

2025: #2 u are the main character of ur life

✒️.U.NEED.TO.GET.CRAZY.ABOUT.UR. LIFE .THIS is ur life. your story, your movie and You’re the main character of it . But here’s the problem—you’re sitting there, acting like you’re just an extra. Let me ask you something: when are you going to wake up? When are you going to stop living like someone else is writing your script? Because newsflash—nobody else cares as much about your story as YOU should.

N1 You’re Not Here to Be Average

Do you feel it? That spark inside you? The one that says you’re made for something bigger? Stop shoving it down. Stop telling yourself, 'I’m not special,' or, 'I’ll never be that person.' Because let me tell you something—you already ARE that person. The only difference between you and the version of you that you dream about? Action. Average is safe, but it’s boring. U NEED TO KNOW Being 'okay' is easy, but it’s unfulfilling. You weren’t put on this planet to blend in. You were born to stand out, to do something, to leave a mark. But first, you have to believe that. You have to take risks. You have to dare to be seen, to be heard, to be ALIVE.

N2 Get Obsessed with Yourself

This is the part where people get uncomfortable, but IDGASS . You need to fall in love with YOU. Not in a shallow, fake, selfie-obsessed way—but deeply, madly, passionately in love with the person you are becoming.Spend time with yourself. Take yourself out on dates. Sit in silence and listen to your thoughts. Who are you, really? What do you want? Not what society wants, not what your parents want, not what your friends think is cool—what do YOU want?Get crazy about discovering your passions. Throw yourself into books, art, music, whatever lights you up inside. Because the more you pour into yourself, the more unstoppable you become. You’re not just living life; you’re creating it. So why not make it something spectacular?

N3 Stop Waiting for Permission

Why are you waiting? Waiting for someone to tell you you’re good enough? Waiting for the 'right time'? BRO WTF Let me tell you something nobody is coming to give you permission. Nobody is going to hand you your dream life wrapped up in a bow. You have to go out there and TAKE IT.Stop looking for signs. Stop waiting for everything to feel perfect. It’s messy, it’s chaotic, and sometimes it’s downright terrifying—but that’s the beauty of it. The magic happens when you stop overthinking and just DO. Take the leap, even if you don’t feel ready. Life isn’t about being ready—it’s about showing up, again and again, until you create the life you can’t stop dreaming about AND THIS IS DISCIPLINE

N4 Reclaim Your Power

Let’s get one thing straight: you are powerful. Not in a vague, 'manifestation vibes' kind of way, but in a real, tangible way. Every decision you make is a choice. Every habit you keep is a vote for the kind of person you want to be.But here’s the catch—every time you let someone else control your narrative, you give away a piece of that power. Every time you shrink yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, you lose a little more. Stop giving it away. Own your voice. Own your choices. Own your life.You are the architect of your story. So start building something worth remembering. And if people don’t like it? If they don’t 'get' you? Let them go. Your life is not a democracy it’s YOUR kingdom. Rule it unapologetically.

N5 Romanticize the Hell Out of Everything

Here’s the secret nobody tells you: life is as magical as you decide to make it. Stop waiting for the big moments—graduation, the 'dream job'...—to feel alive. Start finding beauty in the small, ordinary, quiet things.Make your morning coffee an event. Cook ur dinner by urself. Write love letters to urself. Turn sunsets into poetry. Life is happening right now, and if you keep rushing to the 'next thing,' you’re going to miss it.Romanticizing your life isn’t about pretending everything is perfect. It’s about choosing to see the magic, even in the mess. Because when you do that, life stops feeling like something you’re just surviving—and starts feeling like something worth celebrating.

This is Your one life. Your one shot. So stop living like you have forever. Stop waiting, stop hiding, stop playing small. You are the main character of this story, and it’s time to act like it. Get crazy about your life. Get obsessed. Because when you do, everything changes.Now go out there and make something beautiful I'm proud of u 143

@bloomzone 📇

[marsdql]

his to keep. — p.sh [박성훈]

synopsis ៸ You always felt out of place—a life shaped by others, a future you never chose. Escape was your only dream, until even that was stolen from you. Then you met him, a stranger who looked like he'd actually listened. At first, his presence felt like fate. He offered freedom, a way out—but it came with a price. You followed him, hoping for escape. Instead, you found a different kind of cage. One you walked into willingly, only to realize too late: freedom was never the plan. You weren’t saved—you were claimed.

genre ៸ angst, scenes with slight smut, captivity, psychological thriller, stalker au, slow burn but i lowk rushed it..┊

wordcount ៸ 11k (for now?)┊

content warning ៸ sexually explicit content, manipulation, stalking, desperation, mental health issues, heavy guilt tripping, dumbification, isolation, fingering, slight praising, parental emotional abuse, kinda implied sex? (It’s not extreme), intimacy daydreaming, self blame, mentions of religion, obsession, bipolar reader and sunghoon, prob alot more so read at your own risk!┊

not proofread AT ALL ៸ ┊Ⳋ᧙ taglist: @nithxhoon @emmacyc @hoonprksung @cloud-lyy @s3ungh4nsgf @strxwbloody @ttulixia @whateverhoon @felireads @heesunghooney @va1entinaa @slvrnm @love4hee @semi-wife @azzy02 @sungbyhoonie @lilyofthevalley69 @itsmesofia @tnafzi @kristynaaah @jngwnlvs @girlwholovekpop ┊ this is not the full fic im js so stuck on what to do and i feel like it flopped so bad so give me ur feedback in the reqs… (REPOST FROM LAST NIGHT CUZ I FORGOT SOME WARNINGS hehe )

You realized something when you were 14—your life felt completely purposeless. Well, at least to you.

Your parents immigrated from another country, believing it would give you a better future—a better education. They thought being born and raised here would make life easier for you.

But in your opinion? That was the worst decision any parent could ever make. 

Your closest cousins weren't even nearby. Your entire family lived across the world while you were stuck in a city built for nothing but work. This country was built for work—nothing else. 

There was hardly anything to do; all you saw were fast food restaurants and endless rows of factories and corporate buildings.

You’d expect the yearly family trips to your hometown would solve your endless homesickness, but no—it was even worse. You never felt like you belonged there—only finally getting along with your relatives on the last days before your departure. 

Growing up, everything was a routine; there was no life here. ‘Wake up. Go to school. Come back. Do more work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.’ That was your life. To make it better—your city barely had any activities or sports programs, the only ones available being for kids of ages 2-3. It was safe to say your life really was boring; all you could do was stay on your phone and wait for the time to pass by itself. 

By the time you turned 16, you promised yourself that you’d leave the country the second you graduated high school—to get yourself into a good university in another country, somewhere that isn’t so boring or mentally draining, and enjoy life somewhere else—despite the fact you would’ve already wasted your teenage years. 

Of course, your parents disapproved. 

“But Mom! I’ve been talking to you about this since junior year—what do you mean I can’t go?! They literally accepted me!” You protested as you sat across from both your parents in the living room after checking your emails and looking over all the feedback you received from the universities you tried for. 

“And? The school 15 minutes away from us accepted you as well.“ She replied, her words firm as her eyes wandered around the room, looking at everything—except you. She knew you only sent an application to that one because she forced you to—but she was determined to keep you here, isolated in this hellfire. 

Your father remained quiet—like he always did. All he ever did was be quiet. He’d usually go upstairs the second things between you and your mother escalated—but this time, he was the one who helped the tension rise. 

“You’re not going anywhere; we raised you here, and you’re going to stay here. You spent all your years getting the best grades in this country, and you’re just going to let it go like that? You can wait until you finish your education—then, do whatever you want—you can even leave off the face of the Earth for all that I care.” 

Your mother tried holding back her smirk—amused that her husband finally spoke back to you for once in your life. Out of all times, he had to speak up now? Your father knew you best—he knew how much you wanted to leave because of how trapped you felt in this city, yet now it turns out that he’s the one who just ruined all your chances. 

You sacrificed your teenage years over the past four years so you could enjoy your 20s—but now it looks like you’ll be wasting those too. 

And just like that, you’re back to the life you were given by your parents. You sit in the last lecture of the day—thinking about anything but the homework your professor just provided. A part of you wanted to give up—to follow the path your parents gave you. They’re only doing it because they want what's best for you, right? 

You were always hyper-aware—always knew what was happening, what was right for you, and what wasn’t. You were never naive, never blind to the truth. And you hated that about yourself. You’d daydream about innocence, about not knowing the things you learned too young. It made you sick, the way you were always informed, always a step ahead. It wasn’t wisdom—it felt like a curse. You felt as if you lacked femininity.

You sat there, surrounded by voices that never reached you and desks filled with people who never saw you. The teacher nagged, the clock ticked, and you sat in your seat like your skin wasn’t too tight and your chest wasn’t caving in. You kept thinking—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe someday you’ll feel like you belong, like this cycle was worth repeating. But deep down, you always knew the truth. This city isn’t home—it never was. This life isn’t yours. And you’re just a placeholder in a world that never waited for you to catch up; life was too fast but too draining for you to run after it.

You couldn’t do anything about the way you were living; you knew you had to accept it and live your life the way it is. Your mother always told you, “If I can make sacrifices, you can too; don’t cry over spilt milk.” And maybe that’s where it started, where the milk wasn’t only spilt but also curdled, spoiled way long before it hit the floor—like the kind of love that looks warm but turns out to be burning when you try to hold it. 

They did it all for you—gave up everything, their lives, their hopes, just so you could come here and learn. And the older you got, the more you understood that they were right. You couldn’t complain anymore. What was there to say when their sacrifices hung over you like a weight you could never shake off? They made it all for you, so now you have to live with it. You tried—god, you tried—to pick up the spilt milk, to filter out the rotten taste, to make it something you could swallow. But it never worked. It was always the same—stale, bitter, and forever tasting like something you could never undo.

The class ended, your thoughts still stuck to your skin as you walked to the train station. You analyzed everyone there waiting. Everyone was doing their own thing, some giggling with their friends while others scrolled through their phones—piano music flooding the subway as the train got closer and closer. 

You recognized some faces in which they didn’t recognize you; it was crazy to think how they all had different lives now. They no longer knew what you had for breakfast today, and you didn’t know their newest favorite color. 

You hopped onto the bus, hoping to find a seat, the reason for your stop being one of the last. When you were little, you were scared of sitting next to anyone on public transport—but now, you’d sit next to a bum if it meant being able to sit. Life wasn’t as important to you anymore for you to wonder who you’re sitting next to.

“You’ve been mumbling to yourself for a while now, huh?” 

Said the man you hadn’t even realized was next to you.

“Huh?” You replied, your brain still foggy from how deep in thought you were. 

“I said, ‘You’ve been talking to yourself for a long time.” He repeated, his face blank, not a single thought painted on his pale face. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was talking out loud, I guess.” You unapologetically muttered, uninterested in continuing the conversation after your apology.

“Hey, I wasn’t asking for an apology; it’s okay. Looks like you’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed today, aye?” He joked, his foot lightly tapping under the seat in front of him. 

You furrowed your brows—if only he knew that your entire bed was flipped over—you’ve been waking up on the wrong side of your bed for years now. You stayed silent, your face facing the front of the train but still being able to spot him stare at you from the corner of your eyes. 

A few moments later, he nudged you to move because it was his stop. Before he approached the exit door, he whispered something near your ear. “You’re waiting for someone to care, but you’ll find that it’s you who needs to start.”

You didn’t respond to the man. You barely nodded; you simply watched him leave the train, your eyes stuck to the window. You could see him more clearly now—he was tall, not too tall, but tall. His body was as pale as his face, and his frame was oddly slim. He was wearing a surprisingly formal suit for being in a rusted train. His glasses hung loosely off the bridge of his nose. 

Your chest suddenly ached in that too familiar way. It was as if your heart was filled with your tears—leaking through all the cracks. A tear slipped down your cheek. Then another. And another. Until you were crying—not sobbing, nor gasping for air, just silent crying because you knew that he was right–if you really wanted to enjoy this life, you had to make yourself like it.

The days passed quicker than you expected; every day you’d find yourself in a different environment—not to study, not to find new people, but to complain about your life. Hopefully changing places will ease your hatred for this town, maybe make you enjoy complaining in a different space—which it never did.

You just got dropped off at the local library, books in your hands, cell phone in one pocket, and your last ounce of motivation in the other. You told your mother that you were going to study for your exams four months in advance–when in reality, you were just going to waste your time writing about all your weird fantasies about running away from home with a young gentleman.

You never had a proper love life. You tried to get yourself out there at the start of highschool but gave up after realizing what all boys wanted–‘gross!’ you thought to yourself. Despite that, you still constantly wished for someone to be there for you, someone to hold you, to baby you, to feel like you belonged to someone.

There was no point of trying in any of your studies—it’s not like you wanted to do them here anyway. You spend your days writing about the future. All your sheets are filled with concerning doodles that only consisted of random words you thought and heard of during the class, ‘to-do’ lists that you never followed, your name written 1000 times on a single paper and most importantly, pathetic things like ‘should I buy a dog or cat when I move to—’. 

You rambled about everything except your studies, you were never like this—not until you found out you’d be stuck here, not until you were molded—not by force, but expectation of who your parents wanted you to be. You knew deep down that you acted like this in hopes for your parents to suffer—to see that you can’t be their smart girl if she’s in a place she hates. When in reality, the only person you injured was yourself and your future. 

“Life doesn’t always come your way, if you keep hating it then it won’t ever change—god y/n, I pray for the man who’ll take you.” Your mother would always tell you, completely convinced that taking care of someone as naive and stubborn as you was an unbearable experience.

You continued your nonsense in your journal, by now you’ve purchased at least 50 journals in your lifetime–each one only getting half way filled before deciding to throw it out. Suddenly, to your surprise, you spot something from the corner of your eye. It wasn't the faces you saw everyday on campus, nor the librarian that’s been working here for the past 15 years, but a familiarly tall silhouette. 

It was him–again. 

You scanned the man's face as his eyes scanned over books in an empty ‘True Crime’ section. To your surprise, he quickly lifted his face and blankly stared at you, his eyes filled with no emotion just like the first time you saw him. You jumped back to your book, hoping he hadn’t remembered you–to which you quickly realised that he did. 

He slowly approached himself towards you–and for once, you found your heart beating rapidly, your thoughts melting with each other as you thought of what he wanted to tell you. Your eyes glued back to your journal, pretending to scribble onto the rant-filled paper. 

“ What's this, hm?” He said, ready to mock the scene in front of him. He grabbed your journal from the table and—“Diary? ‘Reasons I should live in–’”                     

“Give it back—what the heck!” You whisper—yelled as you attempted to retrieve your “diary” without making a commotion in the silent library. “What are you doing? Who are you?” You continued to let anything come out of your mouth in fear that he’d realised how scared you were of him talking to you.

But it was too obvious—I mean, he obviously knew. He knew that you knew who he was. It was written all over his face—for once. He had a smirk up to his ears, it was scary. You could feel your pupils shaking as you tried to hold contact with his eyes. 

He wasn’t ugly, but his expression was terrifying. His eyes were slightly squinted, the smirk carved permanently into his face. His skin stayed pale, and his height made you nearly break your neck trying to look up at him while sitting down. 

You snatched back your journal, clutching it like it held every sin you committed in this world, like every secret you never meant to share.

“Who are you?” You asked again—this time, not out of fear, but desperation.

He leaned down, just enough to be at eye level with you. “Don’t act like you don’t remember me, it’s written all over your face.” 

Your eyes widened, not because of the fact that he did in fact remember you and knew that you did too—but because of his boldness that you would’ve never expected from such a cold-looking figure.

You stared at him, always quick with a response—but in that moment, words failed you, caught and silenced deep in your throat.

You tried blinking away the fear—which only added to it. The odd man silently walked away from you—and for some reason, you couldn’t rip your eyes off of him. The farther he got, the more your eyes tried following him. It’s like you couldn’t get yourself to look away, you wanted to know who he was, where he was going, what he wanted from you. 

The thought of him was what kept you up at night. The only thing you knew about him is his appearance, no more. You didn’t know why he said those things to you on the train, nor why he suddenly came up to you at the library—just to leave without doing anything except attempting to read whatever you were writing on your book that day. 

For the longest time, you’ve been thinking about such weird thoughts—this adding to it. You recall the stop he dropped off when you were on the train. It was on the western, more old-fashioned side of town. A town where you could be lost in a field with no escape. You thought about him for a while, maybe it was a coincidence and he just wanted to scare you, maybe it was all in your head from all the odd things you’ve been recently fantasising about.

You already lived in a boring city—might as-well let it be spooky and boring, right? 

You suddenly felt a weird amount of comfort with the interaction. ‘it’s been a while’ you thought to yourself in shame as you reached down to your sleep shorts. 

Your days felt endless yet you couldn’t remember experiencing any of them. It’s been a week since you saw that man. 

Part of you wanted to see him again, to get the courage to talk to him. Not because you were really attracted to him, of course. That’s what you said to yourself, again. You had no idea why you got so obsessed with him despite how sensitive you’d be if it were someone else saying the harsh words he told you on the train that day. Maybe because you forgot the feeling of  love, not only to love—but of being loved. 

But this wasn’t love, this was obsession. Filled with lust and the idea you created of him in your fantasies based off of the two interactions—and the two others you created—with him, your dream man. 

Late nights never went well with you, this night being another one of them. You find yourself sitting on a pile of rocks across the lake near your school. Of course your city didn’t have a beach, nor at least a nice sunset to go with your solo hangout. You did this often, sitting by the lake and watching the subtle movements of the water created by the wind. 

Instead of doing any of your school work, you spent your time thinking about things you shouldn’t, right here, on the ground you were at currently. 

But you weren’t always like this. You did once like school—or at least the idea of it. You did try hard in school, when you had planned your life to death. You knew what you wanted: 

Graduate high school. Move to a country you fancy. Get your career together and maybe move to another country when you’re done. Get married. Move back to your hometown when you grow too old to function, die on the land of your ancestors and hope for the people of the land to visit your grave and pray for you. 

All of a sudden, you heard footsteps, loud ones.

Nobody ever comes here this late.

“No. No, no. No..” you muttered to yourself, panicking. “I promise god, I’ll pray—just let me off this once, I can’t die in a muddy lake. Maybe from a plane crash, or at least in the woods but not this…” 

The sound of large footsteps just kept getting louder and louder as the creature got closer to you.

“Do you ever stop talking to yourself?”

Euh?

“Oh.” You slowly removed your hands from your face, in disbelief. 

Unfortunately, you could remember that voice from the few times you heard it.

“Get up.” He said, firmly. You stood up awkwardly, your back still facing him. He was quick to wrap a jacket around you. You flinched a bit at the sudden contact when his fingertips brushed against your shoulders, you wondered what he was doing here—again—near you.

Before you have the chance to face him and ask the question, he beats you to it—“what are you doing here in the dark, isn’t it too late for you to be out in the cold?”.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit offended by his question. Was he mocking you? “Too late for you.” What did that mean? Is he calling you too young? Not independent enough? Was it because you were a woman? 

You quickly turn around and reply back, unable to hide the anger that was slowly starting to rise in your voice, “Who are you? What do you want from me and why do I keep seeing you?”. You stumbled a bit on your words as you tried to fit all your questions about this man before he disappears like he always does.

He didn’t respond, you tried squinting your eyes to see his facial expression in the dark—but nothing was clear—or maybe it was that his facial expression was completely blank. 

The cold clung to your skin like it had grown into it. Your clothes were damp from the lake’s air, the moisture seeping into your bones, making your limbs feel heavier with each passing minute. When he grabbed your hand—his touch warmer than the wind biting your fingertips—it wasn’t the shock of it that startled you. It was how natural it felt. As if you’d held that hand before in a dream you couldn’t remember, in a life you didn’t live.

You didn’t fight it.

You should’ve, but you didn’t.

He didn’t speak again. Not when he walked you out of the place, not when your shoes squelched in the wet soil and fake sand from the government, not even when you passed by the rusted gates leading out of the lake area. His jacket hung around your shoulders like a protective shell, and the warmth in it wasn’t his—it was yours now, stolen without permission.

You both stood silently at the bus stop for a while, until you looked at the time and remembered the trains were almost done running.

“I… I should get back before the trains stop,” you finally muttered, your voice so low you weren’t sure if it came out at all. Your offended-mad tone completely fading away into a shy one.

“You’re not going home like that,” he replied quickly, decisively. “You’re still wet. It’s freezing, and you’re trembling.”

You didn’t know what answer you were supposed to give to that. Yes, he was right, but since when did strangers get to tell you what to do?

He stepped a bit closer, and though your first instinct was to recoil, you didn’t. You couldn’t. He towered over you, and yet something about his presence didn’t press you down. It surrounded you. Made you feel small, yes—but safe, even in the dark. Maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.

“I know this sounds weird,” he added, “but just… come here.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He opened his arms, slowly, like he was offering—not demanding. You stood still for a moment, unsure of what exactly was happening. But your heart beat louder than your thoughts, and something inside you collapsed quietly. Your body moved on its own.

You stepped into him, into the circle of his arms, and let yourself be held.

And for once, you didn’t have to beg your thoughts to be quiet—they just… were. The hug silenced them.

The sound of passing cars, the cold flicking at your skin, the wind playing with the loose strands of your hair—it all blurred away in his arms. You leaned into his chest, your ear pressed against his coat. His heartbeat was calm. Too calm. It made you feel ridiculous for how your own heart was racing like a trapped bird.

“What would your parents think if they saw you like this?” he said quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself.

Your stomach tightened.

“I… don’t know,” you mumbled. “I don’t think they’d be very proud.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then, “Tell them you’re at a friend’s house.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your brows furrowed. “What?”

“Text them. Tell them you’re sleeping over at a friend’s place. Stay with me for a bit. Just to warm up. Then I’ll drop you back.”

He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like you didn’t grow up being told not to trust people. Like he wasn’t a stranger with too many unanswered questions clinging to him.

“I… I can’t just go with you,” you whispered, pulling away more. “I don’t even know your name.”

He stared at you for a second, then turned, walking a few steps toward the approaching train. “Then don’t think of it like going with a stranger. Think of it like taking a break from yourself.”

You stood frozen, the weight of his words hitting places you didn’t even know were exposed.

You didn’t reply. You didn’t move. You just stood there.

The train came, doors opening with their usual mechanical sigh. He walked in without looking back, but he didn’t go far. He stopped at the nearest seat, turned halfway to you, and waited.

You told yourself: No.

You whispered it in your head: No, I’m not doing this. I’m going home.

But your feet stepped forward.

The warmth of the train wrapped around you like a blanket you hadn’t asked for. Your fingers clenched. You kept your eyes low as you sat beside him. Your body didn’t tremble, but your thoughts did.

You stared at your phone. The screen glowed too bright. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

This is insane.

This is not what people do.

You typed: Sleeping at Samira’s house. Love you. And hit send.

The silence was thick.

You tried to stay alert—force your body to stay upright. But you’d been tired for weeks. Maybe months. Maybe years.

The city lights blurred past the windows.

You rested your head against the cold glass.

Just a break. That’s what he said. Just for tonight. Just until I feel better. Just until I figure out how to leave.

The warmth of the train felt unreal. Too bright. Too sharp. You sat beside him, your body curled slightly from the chill in your limbs. He didn’t speak, just took out a spare towel—yes, a real towel—from his backpack and tossed it onto your lap like he’d done it before, like he expected this.

“Why… Do you have this?” you asked softly, the towel already soaking up the cold from your clothes.

“I always have towels in my bag. You never know when someone’s going to sit near a lake and decide to fall asleep with wet hair.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

You turned your head slowly toward him. He didn’t smile. He didn’t look smug. He just looked forward, out the window, like everything was ordinary.

The silence between you both wasn’t awkward. It was thick. Too heavy to cut. Your thoughts danced again, back to what you were doing. Back to why. This wasn’t safe. It wasn’t rational. Your parents would be horrified. Hell, you were horrified.

And yet, when the train reached the station—the one where you first saw him leave that night on the train weeks ago—you stepped out after him, your feet like anchors on a sinking ship.

You expected a neighborhood. A house. Lights. Something.

But there was nothing. Just a long strip of concrete, and at the end of it, a car.

Black. Sleek. Empty of sound.

You hesitated. “This… this is where you live?”

He laughed softly. “No. This is just where I park.”

He opened the passenger side for you, the small light above the seat flickering to life. You didn’t move.

He tilted his head. “You’re safe. You can say no. You always could.”

That stung. Because you knew it was true. You could say no–but you didn’t. 

You stepped in.

The door shut softly behind you. The inside of the car was warm—not just heated, but cozy. Blankets in the back. More towels stacked near the seat. Snacks. A charger. A phone mount.

It was like he lived here.

He didn’t start the car immediately. Just looked at you for a second. “Seatbelt.”

You clicked it in. You didn’t want to talk. You couldn’t. Every part of your body was trembling, not from fear—but from confusion.

He drove quietly. The streets are blurred by streaks of amber light. The radio played something soft—piano again. Always piano.

The towel warmed up against your thighs. Your hair was still damp, stuck to your cheeks. You felt the warmth from the vents sink into your skin, making you realize just how cold you had really been.

And then, for reasons you couldn’t explain, you started to cry.

Not hard. Not loud. Just… quiet, steady tears that slipped down your cheeks like they had a life of their own.

You didn’t want him to notice, but of course he did.

He reached into the glove compartment and handed you a small packet of tissues without a word.

That somehow made you cry harder.

You didn’t know when it happened—but somewhere along the drive, your eyes grew too heavy to fight. Your muscles relaxed, your mind finally dimmed. The last thing you remembered before sleep took you was the way he reached back and gently tugged a blanket from the backseat to drape over your lap.

It was soft. Too soft. It didn’t belong in a car.

Not a blanket like that—stitched with tiny patterns, smelling faintly like lavender and dryer sheets. It felt like something out of a childhood memory, not the backseat of a man’s vehicle.

Your fingers curled into it without thinking. It was warm, and that was dangerous. You weren’t supposed to feel this safe. You weren’t supposed to want to stay.

He didn’t say anything, just kept driving. The piano from the radio faded into something ambient—barely there, like silence that hummed.

You let your head tip toward the window again.

Then it started: the heaviness in your limbs. The kind that doesn’t come from sleep, but from somewhere deeper. Your breath slowed. Your eyelids fluttered. You knew you shouldn’t fall asleep. You knew it. But the blanket was too soft. The car was too warm. His presence was too quiet.

your body didnt ask for permission, it just..shut down.

You didn’t feel yourself being carried. Or moved. No footsteps. No doors.

Just blackness—thick and unbothered. A softness beneath your back. A whisper of fabric against your cheek. The distant hum of a room too still.

Gentle, but enough to wake you. You wake to the soft tumble of light through sheer curtains. Your chest tightens in confusion as your fingers brush unfamiliar fabric—white lace, delicate, too pristine. You sit up—the plush pillows swirl around you. Whose bed am I in?

Waves of dizziness hit. Your hair was braided—neat and tidy—is pulled loose from the night side-table, threads falling down like ghosts of what happened. You refuse its tightness. The braid comes undone, cascading around your shoulders in unruly waves. Your fingers shake; the air feels thick as if secrets are vibrating in it.

The room is immaculate—silent but for the faint hum of the city far below. Every surface gleams, untouched by mess or life. Too clean to be human. A smell of fresh linens, soft electronics, and a scent you can’t place but feel stirred by. It unnerves you deeper than the fear already knotting your stomach.

The door opens. He steps in: grey sweats, plain white T-shirt—casual, entirely unlike the suited man from before. The contrast is jarring: here is him, familiar but broken. The same pale frame; the glassed silhouette; his presence always towering yet somehow hollow. Your heart twists with the weight of recognition.

You stir enough to slide sideways—too weak to stand. Your hand touches the edge of the mattress, sliding almost to the ground, but he’s there. His arm wraps around your waist; his hand supports the small of your back. You cling to him, blinking away the world.

“Don’t… I’m dizzy,” you murmur.

He lifts you gently to a sitting position. His hand stays near your rib cage, steadying you.

“Let it out,” he whispers, voice soft and trembling. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Tears begin—at first tiny beads at the corner of your eyes, then wetness rolling down. You try to swallow the sobs, but your throat refuses. If you cried this much around your parents, they’d be yelling at you right now, reminding you that you’re known as “the daughter with a frown permanently plastered on her face.” The bed dips as he leans in, supporting your weight and smelling of clean fabric and something like… relief? Guilt?

“Why…” you choke out between shudders, hot tears trailing. “What do you want from me?”

He releases a breath so gentle it might be your own. “I know you,” he finally says, expression blank yet somehow imploring. “I know you, more than you know yourself.”

“What?” You whisper, voice raw. “We’ve only met twice.”

He brushes a tear from your cheek. “I’ve been watching. Not like a stranger—you’re not invisible to me.”

You shrink back. “That sounds… stalkerish.”

He nods, glancing to the window at the city tick-tocking down below. “I know. But you’re so muted. So afraid of relationships, afraid of trusting. I see in you everything you don’t see in yourself.”

Your legs tremble; you wrap them beneath you. You pull at the lace, self-conscious. “I… I don’t know why I’m still crying.”

“Because there’s more inside you than what you live,” he says softly. “And you’ve never been shown it, but trust me, I see it all.”

“How… How is this helping me?” You sniff, lifting your chin. “You don’t know me. Why do you care?”

His eyes flick down to his lap as if searching for words. “I do know you now,” he says, voice low. “You’re hurting. You’ve made this life smaller than you are.”

You shake your head. “Life… my parents, this city… I’m trapped. You dont know anything about me.”

He meets your gaze. “I know it all, I really do, I know you. What if you could go anywhere? What if you could live anywhere, study anywhere, love�� you can do all that. But you need someone to guide you. Someone like me.”

You stiffen; your chest constricts. “Why you?”

“I’m offering you more than this life. I’m offering you a choice.”

Your walls shake. You curl deeper into the pillow, scanning the vast room again. You see—in the corner—a grand piano, silent. A desk with travel brochures. A suitcase half open, clothes laid out. It’s not a set: it’s a promise. Or a trap.

Tears come again. But this time they’re soaked with rage and relief and fear. You whisper, “Promise.”

He nods. “Go anywhere. Leave tomorrow if you want. I’ll put everything in place. A plane ticket, a place to live. Friends to talk to.”

You sit so still you might be a statue, broken open on its pedestal. Hunched as if aching to crawl inward but also to leap outward.

“How do I know you’re not just another expectation? Another sacrifice like my parents’?”

He reaches up, brushing your hair back behind your ear, careful yet tender. “Because I want you to be free—from their sacrifice and mine. And I can’t do it alone.”

Silence stretches. Bangkok, New York, Rome—your dreams flicker, teased by his quiet confession. The city hums far below, but here in this penthouse, you feel the pulse of your own heartbeat again.

“What’s your name?” you murmur.

He hesitates, looks stunned. “I’m… Sunghoon.”

Your heart stutters. Recognition blooms. After all this time. Sung Hoon.

He watches you, waiting.

You shift. “…Okay.”

He exhales a soft tremor. “Okay?”

“Okay.” 

The room is dim, lit only by the gold flicker of a lamp tucked in the far corner. The walls hum with silence. The kind that makes you realize how long it’s been since you heard anything else—no traffic, no hallway voices, not even the buzz of your own ringtone.

You don’t know where your phone is.

You haven’t asked. You haven’t even thought about it.

That alone should terrify you.

But it doesn’t. Not really. Not anymore.

It’s been days… maybe more. You’ve stopped counting.

He feeds you, gently—sometimes even sits beside you, watching as if making sure you finish every bite. Not in a forceful way, not exactly. But in a way that leaves no space for skipping meals. His voice stays soft, like velvet against your nerves, lulling, unshakably calm. He lets you sleep in his bed. Alone.

You never used to sleep through the night.

Now you don’t even dream.

And you don’t ask why either. 

A necklace rests against your collarbone, cold and delicate. You woke up with it one morning, clasped perfectly around your neck, like it had always been there. Angel wings, silver. Small, dainty. Too intimate to be a gift… too quiet to be a warning.

You should’ve woken up when he put it on. You know you should have. You always do when there's a slight noise or movement in the room. 

You didn’t. You just woke up in the morning, saw it, accepted it.

Now, he steps into the room again. The door creaks the way it always does. It’s night—again. Maybe it always is. Maybe that’s just when he chooses to appear.

He’s wearing what he’s been wearing almost every time lately: grey sweats, white plain t-shirt. No cologne, no jewelry, no pretense. Just soft fabric and bare feet on marble floors.

He sees you and smiles like you belong here.

“Hey, angel,” he says.

You flinch at the name. Not because you’re scared of it. But because you’re starting to like it. And you hate that. He’s been calling you names since forever–and he just keeps adding. It started with Sweetheart, then baby, now angel.

“Hi,” you answer, quietly.

He walks over, no urgency in his steps, no hesitation. He sits at the edge of the bed like it’s his, like you’re his. Not in a way that screams ownership—just quiet confidence, like he already knows the answer to a question you haven’t asked.

He notices your fingers absently grazing the necklace.

“You never asked where that came from,” he says, voice low.

Your throat tightens. “I… figured it was from you.”

“Mhm, It was,” he confirms. “Put it on while you were sleeping.”

You blink. “I’m a light sleeper.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

The room feels smaller. Like the walls lean in a little every time he speaks. You believed his words, youre not a light sleeper here, you barely even dream here.

“I don’t get it,” you whisper. “Why are you doing this? Why—me?” You ask for the millionth time, it's like you never understand what he means when he gives you an answer. 

He tilts his head like he’s looking at something breakable. “Because I know what you are. What you need.”

“But you don’t know me,” you murmur.

“I know what the world did to you,how it treated you,” he replies. “I know how hard it is to keep running from it. To keep pretending you’re not tired of it. You’re safe here. You’ve never had that before.”

You shake your head, but your voice betrays you. “You don’t know what I’ve had.”

“I know what you haven’t had,” he counters softly. “Someone to slow you down. Someone who actually watches. Who listens. Who takes care of you.”

“You—” Your voice falters. You want to say he took you. That this is all wrong. That you need to leave. But the words feel far away, blurry. Like you buried them somewhere days ago and forgot to mark the spot.

Instead, your voice breaks into a whisper: “I don’t even remember how I got here.”

He nods, as if he expected that. “Sometimes, that’s a good thing.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

He leans forward, careful not to touch. “Do you feel scared right now?”

You hesitate.

Do you?

You should.

But the bed is soft. The light is warm. The air smells like clean linen and something vaguely sweet. There’s no lock on the door—at least, not one you’ve seen. You’ve been alone in this room. But you never tried to leave. Not once.

“I don’t know,” you finally say.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to know anything right now. You just have to be here, with me, angel.”

And that’s the terrifying part.

You are. You’re still here.

And you don’t know if it’s because you’re trapped—or because part of you doesn’t want to leave anymore.

The room is silent, drenched in a soft lamplight. It’s night again—the hour when the shadows seem thickest. Its like a loop, you only recall the memories of the morning and night time--nothing else. He sets a mug of steaming tea on the bedside table, the scent a sharp mix of herbs and bitterness. “For your cold,” he murmurs, voice low and firm, “even if you say you don’t feel it.” 

The tea glimmers in the dim light. He always brings it at night, everyday, without a doubt. Always tells you the lake’s chill brought on a sickness. But tonight… Tonight you know the truth. It’s disgusting—it tastes like dried leaves soaked in bitter water.

You lift the mug, knowing what will happen if you refuse. His expression shifts—gentle calm snapping into tension. He demands you drink. You nod, too tired to argue, too afraid to defy him.

But tonight, something flickers inside you. A spark. You bring the mug to your lips, let only a tiny sip slip in. You swallow hard—gulping fierce, fierce enough to convince him. The rest sits in your mouth, pooling thick. When he looks away, you tilt your head slightly, pushing it down your throat. You try to replicate the fake swallow—sharp inhale, throat tightening—until it drips down your chin.

He’s watching you, voice low, “You did it?”

You nod, voice cracking with effort. “Yes.”

He smiles—an expression so small, so predatory, it makes your blood run cold. “Good angel.” His voice is almost tender as he reaches to wipe the spill from your chin.

Later, under the wide duvet, you lie as far from him as you can—the invisible line in the middle of the bed. It feels like a trap, a boundary you’re both painfully aware of. Sleep should come easily; instead, memories swirl like restless currents.

You remember the nights you stayed out (sometimes under lamplight, sometimes over your textbooks) trying to study for exams, threading through anxiety and exhaustion—knowing that even if you slept early, you’d wake up still aching for more time. That feeling of dread, pinned to your chest like a stone—that’s what the bed’s reminding you of.

You watch him breathe—light, steady. You think he’s asleep. Even the blanket’s untouched on his side. No phone on the nightstand. No cozy ritual of drifting off. You hear only his quiet inhalations.

So you pretend to sleep too—closing your eyes, still. Your breath matches his. You try to make yourself look at home, harmless. Maybe if you pretend long enough, he’ll doze again.

But you can’t sleep. Your skin feels sticky, uncomfortable, as if every pore is burning. You shift under the duvet and slip out of bed quietly, careful not to make even the slightest rustle.

The apartment hallways are unlit, clean, controlled. You wander, every footstep echoing slightly—too loud. You pass heavily furnished rooms: the kitchen, the sitting area, all immaculate and organized. A scent of antiseptic lingers somewhere in the air.

Then… a door. Slightly ajar. You push it open with trembling fingers.

Inside is a cabinet—neat, pristine. Rows and rows of pill bottles. Thousands of them, lined up in order, labels facing front. Vitamins, antibiotics, sedatives, who knows what else. A lullaby of possibility, of poison.

Panic swells. You stare—hands curled at your sides. You feel so small.

Suddenly, the air shifts. He’s there—door closed behind him. His eyes are wide, fixed. Not sleepy anymore. They look… focused. Piercing.

He watches you. You feel the lies in your chest, bubbling up.

“I… I wasn’t sleeping,” you whisper. “I—I felt off. I tried to find the tea to make myself more… comfortable.”

He steps forward—the room feels smaller. “You didn’t drink it tonight,” he says softly. He knows.

Your throat closes. You lift your hands in a silent surrender.

He steps closer, scanning your face. “You lied.”

You tremble. No strength left. You’re overwhelmed by guilt, humiliation, and fear.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I—I couldn’t drink it.”

He watches you. The silence is long enough to suffocate you.

Then, with a nod, he turns back to the pills. “Good,” he says quietly. “You let me know.”

You’re not sure why relief washes over you. Maybe because it broke the illusion. You’re not trapped… yet not free. You realize, in that moment, the trust he’s still fostering is slipping away.

Days have passed. You haven’t touched the tea since that night. Not once. You sense that Sunghoon knows—every subtle look, every shift in tone. You also realize he doesn’t seem to mind. Not anymore.

You feel… more awake now. No longer the naive, drifting girl you were almost completely drifting into, you were the same y/n that was always aware of everything again. It’s reminding you how much you long for life beyond his walls. Your parents taught you your entire life to avoid strangers, it feels weird to think you’re with a stranger right now and don’t feel anything. You imagined it to be a horror-movie type of scary, but it feels normal—almost as if you’ve known him already.

One afternoon, the walls feel too tight. You stand in front of the door, heart pounding with determination. You twist the handle—locked. You jiggle it—locked. Your breath quickens as you notice each lock, deadbolt, chain, tightly engaged. Panic surges through your veins. You press your back against the door to steady yourself. The apartment, once comforting, now feels like a gilded cage.

Your pulse races. Your palms sweat. Fear & clarity mix inside you, aching to break free. Sunghoon told you the whole point of him taking you was to let you free, so why were you locked here?

Suddenly, behind you—click. The door opens. Sunghoon steps in, face calm, but his eyes are charged.

“Where are you going?” he asks, voice cool.

“…I wanted fresh air,” you whisper, voice trembling between fear and resolve.

He steps through the doorway, blocking you from stepping out. His gaze sharpens. His hand hovers near your wrist.

“Fresh air?” he repeats. “You don’t need to leave.”

“I—my family…” you choke out. “I just want to see them. I could come back.”

He laughs softly—mocking, but carefully measured. “Your family?” His smile is soft but cruel. “Who? Those people who don’t care about you? You have no family. Do you think they’ve been caring for you like I have?”

You hear tears in your own voice as you say, “I just… want fresh air.”

He breathes out—soft. He reaches forward and gently pulls you into his arms, easing you away from the door. He holds you, rocking you just enough to hush your tension. You feel the warmth of his chest, the rhythm of his steady breath.

“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I am your family.”

You let the tears fall softly—quiet sobs at first, then heavy. You hug him back, desperate for comfort. A part of you wonders if this is relief or defeat.

A few moments later, he guides you to a dresser—selects a white silk dress, smooth and simple. Without a word, he helps you change, guiding your arms through its delicate sleeves, adjusting it so it hugs your form. The fabric is cool, whisper-soft against your skin.

He moves beside you as if reading your thoughts. “Come with me,” he says in that soft tone you remember. But now, it carries a command.

You step out, pressing the silk against your legs. He holds your hand. It’s warm and firm. You wonder if you could let go, but something in your chest still aches for his presence, even as it trembles with fear.

The elevator hums, descends, opens onto the hall. And then—finally—you step outside into the world again.

The sun is muted, the afternoon breeze tender on your skin, bright and real. You follow him into a nearby park. You’re aware of walking people—families laughing, dogs running free, children on swings. It’s a sensation you didn’t remember missing until it’s in front of you.

He leads you to a bench shaded by an old oak. He keeps hold of your hand, thumb gently stroking your knuckles. You breathe more deeply than you have in ages.

He watches you. “See? You’re okay,” he says softly.

You nod, the tears still roaming your cheeks. The breeze stirs the silk around your ankles. You rest your head against his shoulder for a moment. You feel safe—terrifyingly safe.

The world doesn’t feel as clear, but you feel alive again.

Whether it means healing—or walking toward a different kind of cage—you can’t tell yet. But you can remember feeling the sun and breeze again. And maybe that is enough, for now.

The air wrapped around you both as you walked slowly. You pointed at the ice cream cart nearby, eyes hopeful.

“Can we get some ice cream?” you asked softly.

Sunghoon’s hand gripped yours tighter, almost painfully, silently shutting you down.

Then his phone buzzed, sharp and sudden. He pulled it out, pressing it to his ear.

“Yeah?” His voice was clipped but steady.

A voice from the other end spoke quickly. “Where are you? We’re waiting.”

“I told you, I’m busy right now.” Sunghoon’s tone hardened.

“We planned this,” the voice argued softly. “Just hang out for a bit.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched. “I said I can’t talk. Not now.”

There was a pause, tension tightening the silence.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Tell them I’ll be at the usual place in twenty.”

The call ended abruptly.

He looked down at you, eyes sharper now. “My friends are coming. You don’t speak unless I say so.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

Minutes later, three men approached through the shadows of the park.

One stepped forward confidently, tall and lean with a sharp smile.

“Sunghoon! Long time no see,” he said, clapping Sunghoon on the shoulder.

Another leaned casually against a lamppost, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Hey man, looks like you’ve got company,” he said, nodding toward you.

The third, quieter but watchful, adjusted his jacket and gave you a curious glance.

Sunghoon’s arm stayed protectively around you.

One of the men looked at you directly, amused.

“So, who are you?” he asked, voice low but friendly.

You murmured, “Hi.”

The tall one smiled warmly. “I’m Heeseung,” he said, extending a hand. “Good to meet you.”

The casual one stepped forward, grinning. “Jake.”

The quieter one nodded. “And I’m Jay.”

You shook their hands, still unsure, but their easy manner made your heart slow a bit.

Suddenly, you looked back at the ice cream cart, longing bubbling up again.

“Can we please get some ice cream?” you whispered to Sunghoon.

He shook his head firmly. “No.”

Jake laughed, stepping closer. “Hey, just let her go. What’s the harm?”

Sunghoon hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll go with her.”

But Heeseung stopped him with a raised hand, smirking.

“Wait. Let her go alone,” Heeseung said, voice playful but serious. “We need to talk.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened but he stepped back, watching you with sharp eyes.

You took a shaky step toward the glowing ice cream stand, your chest tight with a mix of fear and hope. You ran.

Not just away from the locked doors, the suffocating walls, or the silent nights that swallowed your breath—but from him. From Sunghoon.

The city blurred beneath your frantic steps, the cold night air sharp against your skin, biting through the thin fabric of the silk dress he dressed you in. Each street light flickered like a warning, each shadow seemed to reach for you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

You forgot how long it was since you last felt that icy grip tightened around your wrist, since you felt trapped beneath his watchful eyes. You didn’t know where you were going; all you knew was that you had to get away. To breathe. To think. To find yourself again.

But with every step away from him, a strange emptiness grew inside you. It gnawed at your chest, pulling at your mind like a relentless tide. You realized then—with bitter clarity—that you missed him.

Not Sunghoon, the cold man who controlled you, but the feeling—the terrifying, twisted comfort of someone watching over you, of someone telling you what to do, what to wear, when to eat, when to sleep.

You had become obsessed with that feeling. You craved the care—even if it came wrapped in chains.

You tried to fill the void with distractions: wandering through crowded streets, watching strangers pass by with their easy laughter, visiting cafés to drown yourself in the buzz of life you’d forgotten. But nothing could replace that dangerous warmth.

You searched for him.

You asked around, pieced together whispers from acquaintances and shadowy corners, followed vague leads and silent clues until finally, late one rainy evening, you found him.

He was standing outside a dimly lit building, the rain slicking his hair against his forehead, eyes sharp and cold.

The moment he saw you, his expression twisted—not with relief or joy, but with something harsher, darker.

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was low, shaking with anger. “Do you think you can just walk away? You’re mine, and you don’t get to decide.”

You shrank back under his gaze, tears prickling your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I was scared. I just… I needed to breathe.”

He scoffed, stepping closer, the storm around you both forgotten. “You’re pathetic. Always running away, always stupid. You don’t deserve kindness.”

You collapsed to your knees, sobbing openly now. “Please, I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.”

He raised his hand, but instead of striking, he gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his cold, unforgiving eyes. “You’ve gone mad. You’re broken. And every time you slip, I have to bring you back. Like a foolish girl who doesn’t know any better. Now get up, you're embarassing not only me--but yourself as well. Have some self respect, dumb girl."

That night, he dragged you back to his apartment. The silence between you was heavy, thick with unspoken punishments.

As the hours dragged on, loneliness wrapped itself around your chest like a vise. Your hands trembled with desperate need, aching for some kind of release. You always felt an extreme sense of guilt when doing these things at home, wondering what your parents would think of you, what god would say. It always ended up in you feeling no pleasure and instead the urge to vomit. But each time, you were desperate, your desires taking over you. So quietly, you reached down to soothe yourself—hoping for comfort this time, for a sliver of relief.

But the door creaked open.

He stood there, eyes dark and burning. “Sinful,” he whispered, voice laced with contempt. “You think you can do this without me? If you're willing to sin then at least let someone help you feel good.”

He crossed the room, cold hands taking yours, guiding you through something painful and raw—his presence both terrifying and addictive.

When it was over, he pulled away sharply, eyes blazing with fury. “You made me do this. You're disgusting” His voice cracked with bitter shame. “You sinned. You made me sin too. Are you not ashamed of yourself? Do you not fear the one above you?”

You didnt say anything, you couldnt. All you could do was curl into the corner of the bed, trembling, tears streaming down your face. The weight of his words crushed you, heavier than any chain.

You lay there, crying yourself to sleep—alone, broken, trapped in a world where love and pain blurred until you couldn’t tell them apart.

The night air was sharp, stinging your skin like it wanted to peel you out of it.

You sat by the window, legs tucked to your chest, bare feet freezing against the marble floor. You hadn’t spoken to Sunghoon in two days. Not since you came back from your escape and sinned like your parents hadnt raised you.

He hadn’t said a word either—only watched. Like a shadow pinned to the walls, he followed you silently, eyes unreadable, jaw clenched like he was holding back something brutal.

You hated the silence. You hated him. You hated how much you still needed him to speak.

When he finally did, it wasn’t gentle.

“You like running away,” he said flatly. “You like being a mess, don’t you?”

You didn’t turn. “I didn’t run. I walked.”

His voice lowered into a growl. “Same thing. You leave, I find you. You cry, I pick you up. It’s like a cycle with you, isn’t it?”

You looked down at your arms. They were covered in goosebumps, not just from the cold. “Why did you bring me back?”

“Because I’m stupid,” he snapped. “Because you won’t stop making me care.” Your chest caved slightly. “I didn’t ask you to. Matter of fact, I didnt ask for any of this. You lied to me completely.”

He laughed. Harsh. Bitter. “You never ask. You just exist. So fucking soft and breakable, always looking like you need saving. But you don’t get it, do you? You’re the reason I’m like this.”

You blinked slowly. “What does that mean?”

“It means every time I even think about touching you, I regret it. Every time I look at you, I remember I’m not supposed to want someone like you. You make me sin, and you don’t even know it.”

He walked forward—dangerous and slow—like regret was the only thing keeping him from setting fire to the room. You wanted to back away. You didn’t.

He stood in front of you, the space between your bodies filled with every word you hadn’t dared to say.

“I try to stay away from you,” he whispered. “But every time I close my eyes, I see you. Every time you cry, it makes me want to destroy everything. Makes me want to see you cry more.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t have to. Because the moment his hands grabbed your waist, you let him.

He kissed you like he hated you. Like it was your fault he was starving. Your fault he was breaking. His teeth scraped your neck like a warning—like this wasn’t supposed to happen again. But it did.

You let him tear the silk dress from your body. You let his hands bruise your skin, his mouth crush your breath. He took you against the window—the city lights spilling behind you both like silent witnesses. You clawed at his back like you could pull sanity out of him. But all you got was more of his chaos.

He didn’t ask if it was okay.

You didn’t say no.

After, you lay on the floor, skin burning from the cold tile, your body aching in ways you couldn’t name.

He stood above you, shirt half-buttoned, face unreadable.

“You make me into something I hate,” he muttered, staring down at his hands. “You ruin me every time I touch you.”

Your lip trembled. “Then don’t touch me.”

“But you let me,” he snapped. “You always let me. That’s the problem. You act like you’re this fragile thing, but really? You pull me under like it’s your goddamn mission.”

Your voice broke. “So I deserve this?”

He leaned down—eyes filled with something ugly. “I don’t know. But I’m not the only villain here. I didn’t kidnap you. You agreed to come with me.”

You didn’t sleep that night. Again.

You sat in the bathroom, wrapped in one of the many towels he owned, knees pulled to your chest. You stared at the floor for hours. At your legs. Your arms. Your reflection. The bite marks on your collarbone. The bruises all over your skin.

And then, without warning, you remembered your mother.

Her voice, always sharp like broken glass.

“Why do you always act like you’re the victim?”

You were nine. You had just come home with a scraped knee from falling on the playground.

“Crying won’t fix it,” she snapped. “Get up. You’re embarrassing me.”

You were fourteen when she told you you were selfish for wanting to move to another city.

fifthteen when she told you you had no right to be tired—because she was the one who sacrificed everything.

Sixteen when she slapped you for saying you didn’t want to study medicine.

Your father never said anything. He just turned the TV up louder.

And maybe that’s where it started. Where love became obedience. Where being hurt felt normal. Where silence felt safe.

Where your voice disappeared.

You stared at the bathroom mirror until the reflection blurred. You pressed your palm against the foggy glass, whispering to yourself—

“You didn’t deserve that.”

But the mirror didn’t believe you. Neither did you.

The next morning, Sunghoon made you breakfast.

Just toast. One egg. Coffee. Like nothing happened.

You sat across from him, not touching the food. Just watching.

He didn’t apologize. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he said: “Your mom called your phone again. Six missed calls.”

Your heart froze.

“What did she say?”

“I didn’t pick up.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you with that same dead calm. “Because she doesn’t deserve to talk to you.”

You hesitated. “Maybe I should call her.”

“Why?” he asked. “So she can tell you you’re a burden again? You’re not going back there. You’re not theirs anymore.”

You stared down at the cold egg. “Then whose am I?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Because you already knew the answer. Even if it wasn’t what you want.

The rain had started before either of you noticed.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed in one of his shirts, the hem brushing your bare thighs. He hadn’t spoken to you all morning—not after the toast, not the coffee, not after the way you didn’t eat a single bite of it.

He just watched. Like he always did.

You hated that he always looked at you like you were already gone. Like he was memorizing your damage in case he needed to carry it when you couldn’t.

You turned your head slowly, voice barely above a breath.

“Why do you keep me here?”

Sunghoon blinked once. Then twice.

“Because the world doesn’t know how to hold you.”

That was it. The match.

You climbed into his lap without saying anything—your breath sharp, your chest raw from how long you’d been holding yourself still. He didn’t ask what you were doing.

Because he already knew. No matter how much you hated him. You never left. Sure he locked a few doors and a few windows, but it was easy to escape Sunghoon, you couldve when you ran away the last time, but you didn't. Instead you went looking back for him.

You kissed him first. You don’t know why you kissed him, but you did. You were desperate to feel something, even if you had o other option but to do it with someone who took you away.

It was messy. Wet. You clutched the sides of his neck like you wanted to crawl inside his skin, like you needed to taste something ugly just to prove you were still alive. He grabbed your waist like it was a reflex—like he’d been starving, and you were the meal he swore he wouldn’t touch again.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t soft.

It was angry.

Angry at yourself for needing this.

Angry at him for giving it to you.

He laid you down, the shirt yanked over your head, his mouth finding the parts of you he never asked permission to memorize. His fingers bruised into your hips, his mouth burned into your throat.

You let it happen.

You let it all happen.

Because if it wasn’t him—if it wasn’t this—then what did you even have left?

Your limbs gave out before your voice did.

You collapsed onto him, breathing like your lungs were splintered. Your heart thudded so loud it echoed in your ears. You didn’t even realize you were crying until your tears soaked into his skin.

You didn’t say anything. Just pressed your face into his chest, shaking silently as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Sunghoon didn’t move.

He wrapped his arms around you so tightly it felt like you were being stitched back together with thread that might not hold.

“You’re okay,” he whispered into your hair. “You’re okay, you’re okay…”

You weren’t.

You weren’t okay at all.

And that’s what made it worse.

Because the second he said it—you wanted it to be true. You wanted to believe that maybe this time, someone meant it.

And that’s when you panicked.

You pulled away from him with force, scrambling back to the edge of the bed like you’d just realized you were drowning and he was the one holding your head under.

“Don’t—” you gasped, trying to catch your breath. “Don’t hold me like that. What the hell is wrong with you?!”

His expression didn’t change. Not right away. Just a slow blink. Like he knew this was coming. Like he’d been bracing for the storm.

“You can’t do that,” you snapped, voice cracking. “You can’t—screw me, and then act like you care. You don’t get to make me feel safe and then leave me to rot in your silence. You don’t get to hold me like—like—”

“Like I mean it?” he asked, voice low.

You screamed.

Actually screamed.

You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking until you threw the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. It shattered against the wall like a warning.

“I hate you,” you gasped, sobbing now, “I hate you for making me need you. I should’ve never come back.”

He moved.

Fast.

Quicker than you expected.

In two long strides, he was in front of you—pulling you into him so suddenly you couldn’t even resist. His arms clamped around your back like iron.

You fought it. You pushed and shoved and clawed at his chest.

“Let go—let me GO!”

But he didn’t.

He just buried his face into your neck, holding you tighter.

“I won’t.”

Your fists pounded against him.

“You’re insane!”

“I know.”

“I want to leave!”

“Then leave. But not like this.”

You froze. Your arms hung in the air, trembling. Your sobs cracked out of you like thunder—loud and helpless.

He didn’t move.

He just held you.

And finally, you collapsed into him—again. This time not out of lust. Not out of grief. Just exhaustion.

So, so tired of feeling everything.

So tired of pretending you didn’t need someone to catch you when you fell.

His hands moved slowly now—up and down your back. His mouth pressed to your temple.

“I’m not always like this,” he murmured. “I just… I don’t know."

You pulled back just enough to see his face. It wasn’t cold anymore.

It was shattered.

and for the first time, he looked like the one who needed saving. His eyes, usually so calculating, were wide with something you couldn’t quite place. His hand shook as it hovered near you, as if he was about to say something—something that might change everything. But just as he opened his mouth, a deafening bang echoed through the room.

His eyes snapped to the door, his whole body stiffening, and once again, for the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.

You barely had time to process it before he whispered, voice breaking, “I never meant—”

Bang.

"Don't you dare move," he hissed.

The door wasn’t just open anymore—someone was coming through it.

Sunghoon’w eyes snapped to the figure at the threshold. And in that moment, you saw him crack.

He grabbed you again, pulling you behind him like a shield and—

… tbc

[mead-iocre]

Glasses | Brat!Reader x Alexia Putellas

anon says:

I can see brat! Reader needing glasses and she where’s contacts out but when she’s at home she wear her either black rim glasses or her clear rim ones and alexia finds her so cute when she wears them because she turns into a baby even if she is trying to be tough and bratty all Alexia sees is the incident look on her face

warnings: biiiiit suggestive. read at ur own risk lmao

word count: 488 words

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

she was standing in front of the stove, eyes glued to the phone in her hand. her hair was tied in a messy bun, eye glasses resting low on the bridge of her nose. her eyes scanned the recipe on her phone, and alexia could just about see her tongue poking out on the side of her lip-- a habit of hers she found so, so endearing.

she loves the way her glasses would slip down, the way her nose would crinkle in annoyance. and she would huff audibly before pushing the thing back up with her finger. so fucking cute, alexia would think.

"i told you to get them adjusted at the store, mi amor" she called out from her spot by the kitchen island, grinning at the way her girl immediately narrowed her eyes at her behind her glasses. damn she was sassy-- and cute.

"and i told you i'd do it next week" would be the only reply.

that's also what she said last week and the week before that.

she rounds the kitchen counter, approaching the subject with caution. she has the sudden urge to smoother her with kisses all of a sudden.

but that was cringe so instead she bends her neck slightly to leave a smacking wet kiss against her lips, the sharp frame of her girl's glasses lightly bumping against her cheek.

she pulls away, eyeing the wetness left behind on her lover's lips. she licks her own, tasting a hint of vanilla lipgloss that definitely does not belong to her.

"you're just scared they'll ask you to go for that eye test that you've been putting off for the past 2 years--" a palm comes up to cup her mouth, effectively quieting her. her girl throws her the meanest glare behind the glass frames that could kill a victorian child, but all alexia does is kiss her palm, knowing just how much that would annoy her. the way she lightly pinches her on the side is evidence of that.

but still, alexia just grins at her. adorable.

she grabs at her wrist, kissing her palm once more before pulling her mouth free. she just grins when her girl makes a show of rubbing her palm against her shorts.

"are you sure you can even see? i mean it took you a while to get me going last night--"

the glint in her girl’s eye was her only warning before she opens her mouth:

"alexia i could be blind and deaf and psychotic and i would still be able to find your pus--"

her eyes widen, mouth agape.

"cállate! jesus fucking christ your mouth"

alexia admonishes her. but not really. you'd think she'd be used to the perverse and wicked things that spew out of her lover's mouth, but everyday is just another opportunity to leave her stunned somehow

alexia feels her tug on her shirt, watches as she lifts up on her tiptoes so they are eye to eye. she leans in as if to kiss her, stopping just a few centimetres away--

and then "funny that's exactly what you were saying last night, baby”

₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊

yall have such big brains. lemme kiss 'em

hope you enjoyed this one, anon. despite it being a short (and dirty!) one!

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[slut4megantheestallion]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅Thinking about perv!roommate jinx jerking off to ur underwater when you're not here hc's

｡･ﾟ･♡･ﾟ･｡Jinx was down horrendous. No, seriously. She didn’t just have a crush on you—she was obsessed. Every little thing you did got her worked up, and worst of all? You had no idea.

•It started with “innocent” snooping. At first, Jinx just liked being in your space, laying in your bed when you weren’t home, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo on the pillows. But one day, she got a little too curious and peeked inside your drawers—only to find your panties neatly folded. And just like that, she was hooked.

•Her first time taking a pair, she only meant to hold them. But before she knew it, she was lying on her own bed, panties pressed against her face, rubbing herself through her shorts.

•It quickly turned into a full-blown addiction. The second you stepped out, Jinx was in your room, pulling out her favorite pair—usually the ones with lace, or the ones that looked extra worn, because fuck, she could swear she smelled your arousal on them.Jinx had no shame in getting herself off in your bed. She’d spread herself out across your sheets, one hand between her legs, the other clutching your panties, rubbing them over her soaked folds before pressing them into her mouth to muffle her filthy moans.

•She loved using toys while fantasizing about you. A vibrator buzzing against her clit, her fingers stuffing inside her dripping cunt, all while she whimpered your name. Sometimes she’d use a dildo, imagining it was your fingers stretching her open.

•She got off on the risk of getting caught. There were times when you’d forget something and come back unexpectedly. Jinx would barely have enough time to shove your panties under her pillow, her heart hammering as you walked past her room, completely unaware of how close you were to catching her.

•Sometimes, she’d fuck herself while watching you sleep. If she was feeling really bold (and really desperate), she’d sit in the darkness of her room, legs spread, fingers buried deep inside herself as she stared at your peaceful, unaware form.

•She loved marking your underwear. The thought of you unknowingly wearing a pair she had rubbed herself on, her slick still faintly staining the fabric, made her fucking feral.

•Jinx knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her secret forever. And honestly? A part of her wanted to get caught—wanted you to find out how much of a filthy little pervert she was. Because maybe, just maybe, you’d punish her for it.

[arbitrarykiwi]

HI SO LIKE CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE A SMUT OF NAMGYU🙏🙏 like hes your deadbeat baby daddy boyfriend who just stays out and away doing drugs and drinking and comes home at ungodly hours while youre taking care of the baby and one night he notices the little weight you put on after giving birth and how it made your breasts swell and got curvier and shit, n like yall are arguing because he came home really late and youre sick of his shit and its kinda a hate/angry fuck kinda thing?? THANK YOU I LOBE UR FICS

Reckless Temptation

I’m so sorry this took so long!! This was such a fun ask! Admittedly, I’m not the best with topics that involve angst (I love when the reader gets a happy ending and I’m such a ween when it comes to angst endings) so i struggled a bit…BUT I tried my best!!!! It was such a fun challenge for me, I really hope you like it 😩🫶

Warnings: smut (18+) , toxic themes (nothin crazy, he just a bum babydaddy) , toxic relationship , relationship issues , drug / alcohol mention , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , choking, dirty talk , hate fucking (relatively tame) , rough sex , nam-gyu is a warning himself in this one , creampie , breeding kink , read at your own risk

You don’t know why you stayed or why you continued to let him fuck you over.

Well… you did know…

Every time you looked at the infant in your arms, the one that has her dad’s smile and eyes, you literally couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

You swear sometimes when she laughs, it sounds like his laugh and you want to call him over and show him how precious the sight is- but he’s hardly ever there. He’s never in your shared apartment. He’s never there to help out with your child.

He’s always late coming home- sure you know the club promoting gig he’s got has weird hours but even on the days you know he’s off, he’s not retuning until 3am. He’s also always high, on what, you could never figure it out it changes week by week it seemed. Sometimes he’d smell like a walking ounce of weed when he’s stumbling through the door, other nights his pupils are just blown and he’s jittery.

Admittedly, neither of you planned to have a child. It was a surprise that had you floored. Nam-gyu was the last person you ever thought of who would be a parent, and when it happened, you were sure he was going to leave you when you told him the news. But he didn’t. That had to mean something.

You took care of your daughter, only you. He would show up whenever he pleased to your shared apartment- even though he hardly ever stayed the night he was still on the lease- to drop off his share of rent money (it was never enough), grocery money (maybe $10 if you were lucky), or the occasional thing you had to beg him to pick up the store. He would bitch and complain about how you always bothered him at the worst times, how he has to do everything for you; That’s hardly the case, but he likes to tell you it is.

To say the least, he was garbage, a deadbeat, no good for you. But, there was some days when you would come out of the shower and see him looking over the crib cooing at your daughter- playing with her with a goofy smile on his face. Those moments make all the bad times fade to the background.

Only to be pulled back to the foreground when he stands quickly, stepping away from the crib. He grabs his jacket, turns around, and walks out the bedroom door- shoulder brushing against yours as he pushes past you- muttering a “don’t wait up tonight”.

You know the drill you never do.

Tonight was no different, you had stayed up late dealing with the baby. She was about 4 months at this point so you got into a decent routine even if it did nothing for your sleep schedule. You say sprawled out on the couch, legs up on the cushion and your baby in your arms. Your shirt was up over your shoulder, your baby drinking away happily at the milk that your breast gave. You couldn’t help the way your head nodded every so often as your eyes fought to stay open. At least she wasn’t crying, you thought. You looked down at her with a soft smile, fingers brushing over her cheek gently.

The sound of a car pulling into your driveway makes your head snap up. You rubbed your tired eyes with one hand, groaning, you knew that sound and that meant he was home. Looking to the clock on the TV stand, it blares a vibrant red hue that makes your eyes strain to see the time. 2:57 am.

You groan to yourself, preparing for the drugged out man that was about to stumble through the door. And when he does he’s wearing the usual pissed off scowl he has- like coming home to you and your child was the bane of his existence. You’ve had enough.

He was going to open his mouth to spew some bullshit excuse for being home late, one he’s used thousands of times before, but you stop him by raising your hand. You’re clenching your jaw, eyes wide and threatening as you hiss out a low “Don’t even fucking start.” You adjust the infant in your arms who was starting to slow down on breastfeeding and begin to grow tired.

Nam-gyu scoffs, his scowl deepening, his mouth flops open once again to speak. You cut him off once more- sitting up off the couch and returning his glare with one of your own. “I said…” You seethed through clenched teeth, “Don’t fucking start.” You growl lowly, taking a step towards him, infant still latched onto one of your breasts. “She’s about to fall asleep. I will put her to bed. And then, only fucking then, can you grace me with whatever lousy excuse you have tonight..”

Your tone is one that throws him off, sure he knew he was not a great boyfriend or father, you had every right to be pissed. Normally, you weren’t this confrontational- normally you would sit there sulking when he would come in the door, an adorable pout on your face that he knew wasn’t a cute expression but one of genuine upset and disappointment. He would brush you off telling you he was hungry and wanted you to cook him something.

You finish getting off the couch, it’s an awkward movement as you’re trying not to jostle the baby that had fallen asleep in your arms. Nam-gyu watches, the room is spinning and he’s trying to act like he’s sober because he doesn’t want to get into that argument again tonight- he is far too blitzed to have a coherent argument where he can manipulate it in his favor.

He watches intently, his eyes tracing over your body. You were wearing a large t-shirt and some shorts, nothing new there….but you were fuller. He felt his mouth go dry as you turn and walk down the hallway to the nursery. Your hips were wider and he swore your ass was bigger. The soft, plush flesh of your hips dug into the waistband of the shorts you wore, some of the flesh above the waist band spilling over the slightest bit- perfect to dig his hands into.

You turn into the room, disappearing, presumably putting the baby down in the crib. When you’re no longer in his sight, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s been a long while since you two had been intimate, the already rough relationship was not helped by a newborn, and he was pent up. As shitty as he was, not helping with the baby, not being home, partying and doing drugs- he never cheated. He can’t remember the last time you two had fucked, probably when he got you pregnant, but fuck- seeing your curves, how much fuller you were- he realized how much he missed it. How much he missed fucking you.

You return out the room you put your daughter in, thankful she was a decent sleeper because she was sleeping perfectly in the nursery as soon as you placed her down. He catches you fixing your shirt, getting a glimpse of your tits before the fabric falls back over the swollen flesh. You return back in front of him, standing in the entryway where he was still frozen. “It is two…no, three in the fucking morning.” You hiss out in a hushed voice.

“I got caught up at work.” He scoffs trying to walk past you and head to your shared bedroom. “Bullshit!” You laugh sardonically, “You were out partying with Thanos again weren’t you??” You accuse, taking a step closer to him.

You were partially right, he was out partying- but he was also working. With Thanos rap career taking off and Thanos needing VIP privileges at Club Pentagon, if he was there he was getting paid extra. Sure he did more than his fair share of drugs and came home plastered hours after he stopped working and getting paid- but he was still making money! “I was with Thanos but I wasn’t partying. I get paid double when he’s booked.” Nam-gyu growls lowly, lying through his teeth.

“Fucking hell!” You catch yourself raising your voice and quickly lower it to not wake your baby. “..do you think I’m fucking stupid?!” You’re seething out in a tone laced with venom. “You were fumbling with the damn keys, your words are slurred and your fucking pupils are blown!!” You gawk, he really had the audacity to try you?!

He seemed taken aback, surprised you could even see his eyes and how his pupils were dilated heavily in the low light of the living room. He had to remind himself, you were once like him, partying and down for whatever- that’s how you two met, he did coke off your thighs- you could tell the signs a mile away.

He envied you for that, quitting all the drugs you once did with him a year or so before you even got pregnant. You were stronger than him in that sense, had more willpower than him. You never got sucked back into the scene, even when your child was born you kept stead fast in your ways and weren’t tempted. It was like you thought you were better than him, and you were, but that just pissed him off more.

“God forbid I try and have some fun.” He says as he glares down at you. You go to speak, fuming at this point, “That’s not what-“ you almost want to scream, your words cut off when you see him roll his eyes, “roll your fucking eyes at me again and I will rip them out of your fucking skull.”

Your voice drops, you’re speaking through your teeth and getting up in his face. It would be threatening, he knows you would be the one to do it- but all he can think about is how thick your thighs look against the shorts you wore. He remembers those shorts, they used to fit looser, but now they dig into the plush flesh so deliciously has his mind is going blank. But the way you’re in his face- scolding him like some child, finger waving inches from his nose- is pissing him the fuck off.

His hand darts up in a quick motion that you have no way of intercepting. His hand wraps around your wrist, ringed fingers digging into your skin. “All you do is fucking run your mouth.” Nam-Gyu growls, he knows you have every right to yell at him, to be pissed, but he wouldn’t tell you that. Your eyebrows furrow, even more than they already were. Jaw clenched and chest heaving, you’re staring up at him oh so defiantly even if he was much larger than you.

“And all you know how to do is be a fucking deadbeat.” You counter, getting closer to his face by standing on your tippy toes. “You get to go out and party, probably rail some whores, while I have to stay here with your child and take care of her by myself.” You add. It’s an abrupt shift, he becomes even angrier, pulling you forward into him by your wrist he still holds.

To say he’s enraged would put it lightly- was he a deadbeat? Yes. But, he still tries to give you what he can, club pentagon only paid so much and he had a drug habit he didn’t care to address. Did he stay out and party and leave you at home to take care of the baby? Absolutely, he can’t argue with you on that one. But he never cheated. As fucked up as he was, as shitty as a father and boyfriend he was- one thing he would never do was cheat on you. To him that’s a type of low he always told himself he would never reach.

You fall into him, a gasp coming out of your lips when you meet his chest. When he feels your tits press against him, the enlarged flesh squishing against him- you watch as his eyes flutter shut, he bites his lip and breathes out a large breath, like he’s trying to ground himself.

He is.

He drops your wrist from his grip, hands coming to rest on your hips in a vice like grasp, caging you into him. “Watch your fucking mouth.” He seethes, eyes fluttering back open to glare down at you. “Say whatever the fuck else you want…I have never cheated.” He growls lowly, fingers tightening even harder around your plush hips. He wanted to continue to be mad at you, but the way his finger sunk into your flesh made the blood rush to his cock.

“You’re out late all the time and I can’t even remember the last time you touched me…” You say lowly, all your senses focus on the hold he has on your hips. His hands are cold, the rings on his fingers dig into the flesh and bite at your skin. He’s holding you in place like he’s sure you’re going to run away. “So excuse me for thinking you’re cheating. You also dont exactly hang around the best crowd.” You reason even further, now trying to fight against him and pull away.

He grimaces, he doesn’t even know how it’s possible that you manage to piss him off even further than normal. “You have my location. I’m always at work.” He scoffs dismissively. He wasn’t wrong but when he’s at work, he’s hardly working- he’s taking drugs, drinking, and doing god knows what else- you’ve seen the pictures he’s in the background posted on Thanos timeline.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” You seethe, trying to yank your hand out of his grasp yet again. It’s a futile attempt. “Okay! So you’re at work!? Where’s the fucking rent, huh?!” You say, voice raising, he’s a day late. He looks at you like you’re crazy and reaches into his back pocket and tosses a wad of cash over onto the coffee table- all while keeping you trapped in his grip. “Still late-“ your works are instantly cut off, “Wrong.” He mocks, reaching back into his pants pocket to pull out his phone and show you the date on his phone.

He was right. But it wasn’t your fault, your days had mixed together because you get no sleep with the baby and your child’s father comes home at 3am every day! God forbid you mix up your days. He also was no stranger to paying you late. You normally wouldn’t care about the mix up, maybe even own up to it- but today it just adds validity to his manipulative argument. “You’re still home at 3 in the fucking morning, you reek of booze and your pupils are blown!” You growl, not even caring that the day was wrong. You simply don’t care anymore. “And you’re doing all of this while I’m home taking care of our child!”

You’re leaning into him, getting up in his face with knitted eyebrows and barred teeth. He’s far too fucked up to deal with this, with you- because he knows you’re right. He never wants to face his issues, he never has wanted to, and every day you attempt to make him confront how shitty he was little by little, most of the times without even knowing it. You had always been too good for him, he knew that. He was lucky that you stayed and gave him a thousand chances instead of walking out on him. Maybe tomorrow he would address it and make a change for once in his life. But, right now, his head is pounding, the room is spinning and your hissing growl of a tone is only making his headache worsen.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he lowers his face so very closer to yours. His eyes are dark, angry, but there’s an odd glint of hunger in them that you haven’t seen in ages, it makes your body heat up in ways that due to not having felt it in so long, if now feels foreign. “You seriously don’t know when to stop fucking talking.” He growls lowly, like an animal about to feast on its caught prey. When he speaks his lips nearly brush against yours, the feather light contact tickles and sends electricity straight to your lower stomach. His voice has a hiss to it, like a viper, it should scare you but it doesn’t; it makes you hotter.

You two stand like that for a moment, the only sound you could hear was the sounds of your breath mixing with his. Every time the both of you heaved an angry breath, the hot air would mix between the two of you. Neither of you broke the other’s gaze, trying to win the silent stare off that started.

Nam-gyu breaks first, his eyes dropping to your chest, watching the rise and fall of your enlarged breasts from under the shirt- his resolve is out the window. He’s on your lips in an instant. You’re letting out a muffled sound of protest into his mouth, fighting against him and trying to pull away. But with the grip he still has on your wrist and the frantic movement of his lips keeps you still. You find yourself melting into it- you missed his kisses. Missed him.

As much as you want to pull back and continue to fight with him-you can’t. You relax into him, lips moving with his- almost rivaling his eagerness. When he feels you give in, his hands drop to your waist, nails biting into your plush flesh over the fabric of your shirt. You’re panting helplessly into his mouth, so desperate for the attention you’ve been deprived of for months. He’s pushing you backwards, guiding you further into the living room.

In a mess of lips and spit, you’re falling back first onto the couch and he’s following you, coming to straddle your thighs- hovering over you. His hands are back on you in an instant, running up your thighs and squeezing. His lips are back on yours, it’s a messy kiss that reminds you of how you two were when you first met. It’s sloppy, full of spit, and oh so Devine. You’re arching up into his touch, his cold hands running up your sides and then back down to your shorts. He wastes no time in gripping the waistband and tugging the fabric down your hips.

He’s pulling your shorts off you hastily and you help kick them off, whining into the kiss. Your lips don’t part once, he’s sucking your tongue into his mouth expertly, he knows exactly what to do to get your mind to go blank. He’s rough, hands gripping and kneading at your flesh like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away from the kiss to lift your shirt over your head. He wastes no time in pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it to an unknown corner of the living room. When the cool air hits your bare skin you’re overtly aware of your bare form. You two haven’t been intimate since you got pregnant. Your body has changed in ways that admittedly you weren’t fond of. A wave of self conscious that rolls through you when you see Nam-Gyu above you, eyes flitting down your naked from like he’s trying to memorize you.

It makes you want to cover yourself- so you do. Your arms fall over yourself to cover your breasts and stomach, shielding yourself from his gaze. His brows furrow and a growl resounds from his throat. You cant even fight him when he grabs your wrists and pulls your arms away from your body, pinning them to the couch. “Don’t you dare fucking hide from me.” His voice is low, almost threatening, and does nothing to help the wetness that grows between your legs.

“Yeah…that’s it, ma.” He rasps, nodding his head slowly, eyes trained on your body. His hands let go of your wrists, you know better than to move your arms back over your body- he would get up and leave you hot and bothered if you disobeyed- he lets out an accepting hum when you keep your arms by your sides.

“Mmm…beautiful fuckin tits…” he coos in a low, gravely tone, his hands reaching up to grasp at the doughy mounds of flesh. He’s kneading your breasts, you can feel the way his cock is straining against his pants, twitching and growing against your thigh with each movement of his hands. “So swollen now, huh?” He says as he leans down, his mouth latching onto one of your nipples.

You’re so sensitive, it’s almost like an electric jolt that runs up your spine. He hums into your skin when he feels your body shake against him. The breast that isn’t being attacked by his mouth is being kneaded in his hand. He’s pinching your nipple, rolling it between his fingers to bring the bud to a stiff peak. You’re helpless underneath him and his mouth is relentless. He can’t get enough of your enlarged tits, he’s switching his mouth to the breast that once was in his hand- wanting to give the same amount of attention to both of the picturesque tits before him.

He pulls off your nipple with an obscene ‘pop’, the sound only adding to the overwhelming feeling you’re experiencing. All this attention after going months without it, it felt surreal. You knew you should push him off and scold him, kick him out, but it feels so good- you just can’t bring yourself to push him away- it feels too fucking good.

“Mmm,” he hums against your skin, you can feel him begin to grind the forming erection in his pants into your leg as he continues his relentless onslaught of bites and kisses, leaving blue and purple patches that blossom across your skin in his wake. His hands are moving across your body, groping at the doughy flesh like a cat kneading a fluffy pillow. “Gotten so curvy, pretty thing….” He mumbles, biting down particularly hard right under your breast. “Such a good mama…” his lips tickle your skin when he speaks.

You can hear how his words are slurred, his hands are jittery, he’s definitely on something and you know you should stop this and not let him swoon you like every other time he’s stumbled in the door fucked up late at night. He’s doing this to soothe your anger, to get you off his case. At least that’s what you thought.

That wasn’t his motive, although that reasoning could apply- he was really doing it to get your guard to lower. You accused him of cheating, scolded him like a child in his own home, you were gonna feel his anger. And he was strategic, manipulative even, you should be aware of it you’ve been with him long enough…but for some reason you’re not. He looks down at you and he sees you softened, you’re panting under him, pupils dilated like his now, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re trying to ground yourself.

He makes an insanely quick, rough, combination of movements- shifting one of his legs between your legs, pressing up into your cunt, and one of his hands darts down to grip your neck right under your chin, awkwardly forcing your face upwards to meet his gaze more directly. “….but you don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” He has a sadistic, mocking grin twisted across his lips.

You let out a pathetic, surprised squeak that falls into a moan. The rough fabric of his pants pressing into your throbbing pussy has your eyes crossing and fluttering shut. You reach a hand up to grip at his wrist, opening your eyes to glare up at him with some measly attempt of a scowl, trying not to let him win so easily, trying to not give him the satisfaction of your docility.

“Yeahhh…” he mocks, a wide grin on his face, his hand that grips your neck and jaw wiggles your head around to further his mocking, like he’s rubbing something in, “keep that smartass scowl on your face. So fuckin’ sexy when you’re angry.” He hisses, his free hand comes down and roughly slaps your breast, his eyes watch the flesh recoil and ripple under the impact, and when you arch into the touch and let out a pretty whimper his hand is groping at the plump flesh harshly. Of course your defiant scowl has faltered.

He lets out a low laugh and trails his hand down your stomach, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly, “see…can’t even keep it up…ya ain’t mad…” he coos in an annoying, sardonic tone. His hand releases your breast and runs down your stomach, nails dragging into your skin just the slightest bit. His hand grips at the flesh of your stomach- like he’s admiring it, basking in the feeling of your softness in his hand. “No~ you’re not mad…” he continues, hand running over your pubic bone, thumb catching the top of your pussy, just above your clit- pulling up the slightest bit.

His view of your cunt is shrouded by your thighs clenching around his leg that is between them. You’re heaving against his touch squirming your hips into his hand, silently begging for more. “Not mad at all…just needy. Need me to play with your pussy, hm?” He says in a low growl, his thumb inching the slightest bit closer to your clit- still not where you needed it most. You’re ashamed of the little resolve you have left, you’re still trying to twist your face into an angry scowl while writhing under his hand. It’s like your hips have a mind of their own, desperately rolling into his touch even though the rest of your body is telling you to stop this and have some resilience to his ways….but you simply can’t stop.

“You’re acting all mad like ya hate me…...” He says, leaning down closer to you, his hand that was still pinning you to the couch by your neck squeezing more. He shifts his knee, pressing it deeper into your cunt. You let out a wanton sigh in response, your eyes screwing shut as your hips grind mindlessly into his leg. His other hand moves off your pubic bone and runs up your leg. When he gets to your knee he’s shoving your legs apart and parting your other leg open with his knee that was grinding up into your cunt.

It’s such a fast motion that you have no option to fight him. Your glistening pussy is now on full display for him to see. It’s shameful, your folds stick together with your own syrupy arousal, thick streams of wetness seep out of your entrance and begin to drip on the leather couch under you. Nam-gyu’s eyes are captivated by your cunt, he’s biting his lip and breathing heavy like a lion about to eat a bountiful feast of meat- animalistic, primal. “Ohoo~” he says with a mocking tilt of his head, “yeah, you can act mad all you want…but, she’s not mad at me.” He says, his fingers sliding inwards and down your spread leg, pulling your folds to the side to see you fully.

“Ohhhhh….” He drawls out, licking his lips at the sight. His hand on your neck loosens its grip and trails down your body to mirror his other hand, spreading you completely. You’re on full display, there’s no hiding the effect he had on you, there’s no denying that your anger has long since been overrun by lust and need, and he’s staring so hard- it’s so embarrassing. He can see how your cunt clenches around nothing, quivering as if to further show your bashfulness. “Already fucking soaked, what a slut. Barely even have to touch you and your needy pussy’s already crying f’me.”

Your eyebrows turn upwards, you’re biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep your noises suppressed. With your lips pulled apart by his thumbs, your puffy clit is on full display. Nam-gyu is cursing to himself, pulling away one hand to hastily undo the button of his pants and unzip the zipper. He’s pushing his boxers and his pants down his thigh to free his aching cock from its confines. He’s thick, veiny, and has a mean upward curve that no matter how hard you try, you can never forget how good it makes your pussy feel.

He pumps his dick a few times, groaning at the sensation. He stops to return his hand back to your inner thigh, thumb brushing up and down in quick motions over your clit. Your hips are immediately canting upwards off the couch, a gasp is pulled from your throat and your nails bite into the couch- threatening to tear the fabric. He would normally bask in that reaction, relish in it, thumb your clit over and over until you’re singing like a song bird for him. But, that was normally; it wasn’t now.

“You better keep your hips still, brat. This isn’t a reward for you.” He barks, looking up at you with dark, narrowed eyes. “I’m jus’ takin whats mine, ‘s not for you.” He scolds, you know he’s still set on punishing you. And for some reason, you let him. You’re looking down at him desperately and panting, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration as you try so hard to keep your hips still so you can get the attention you so desperately need. It’s a downright sinful, completely and utterly desperate expression, your flushed cheeks just the most perfect accessory.

His scowl turns into a wicked grin when he sees the last bit of resilience you have crumble completely and you turn into a pathetic heap on the couch. “Mhmm…” he nods slowly, “S’ what I thought. Just a lil needy thing ain’t ya?” You whine at his words. He’s speaking in a mean, sardonic tone that makes your mine spin. You don’t even think about it, but you find yourself nodding, letting out a muffled ‘mhm’ in hopes of getting on his good side.

He seems to accept your meek response because he’s settling down onto the couch, lowering his face until it’s level with your cunt. You’re gripping the couch and biting your lip until it’s bleeding, trying to keep your hips still. His breath fans over your folds causing a soft mewl to fall from your lips. Your head falls back onto the armrest of the couch as he licks a wide strip up the entirety of your cunt.

He’s groaning into your pussy when he gets his first taste of you. It’s been too long since he’s been buried tongue deep in your sweet cunt, he doesn’t know how he’s gone without it for so long. He doesn’t ease you into it, he doesn’t slowly coax soft whines from your throat- no, he’s delving in and eating you like a man starved. His tongue is vicious, licking through your folds, teasing your entrance, only to trace back up and twirl in mind-numbing figure eights against your clit.

“O-oh my god…” you breathlessly moan, thighs closing around his head. His eyes roll back and flutter closed when he feels the soft, thick flesh of your thighs tighten against his head. He wraps his arms around your thighs, dragging you up and down his flat tongue, slurping down every drop of arousal that seeps from your pussy. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. The sensation makes you jump and moan out a broken call of his name, your hips grinding down on his tongue in a pathetic attempt to seek even more pleasure.

When he feels your hips cant upwards, chasing his tongue he’s growling into your pussy. Hands splaying across your lower stomach to push your hips down- a warning. “Keep fuckin’ still.” He hisses, his words vibrating against your clit. Nam-gyu makes a show of eating your cunt. He’s messy, making obscene slurping sounds as he coaxes more and more sticky arousal from your spasming walls. This wasn’t for you, this was for him. He was going to enjoy the heavenly flavor of your cunt his way. You want to grind against his tongue, become impossibly closer to him and sink his tongue deep within your walls- you know if you do, you’ll be going against his orders. He’s deliberately making this a challenge for you. He wants you to disobey him. Wants you to give him even more of a reason to fuck you into complete submission.

When you feel his tongue begin to prod its way into your entrance, you’re keening and bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. You muffle your wrecked moans as he tongue fucks you. It’s such a devine feeling for him, your cunt clenching around his tongue, the flavor of you covering his tastebuds, thick thighs clenching around his head, pussy wetting his chin, and nose breathing in your scent as he grinds it into your clit. All of it reminds him of why even after all the horrible shit he’s put you through, he’s never cheated and he always returns home to you. He wants to savor it, draw it out. Maybe you’ve learned your lesson and he can be nice- give you both what you want.

But he can’t, because you’re sobbing out muffled pleas from behind the hand that covers your mouth and jerking your hips up, swiveling them down on his tongue to try and drive him even deeper into your walls. You don’t even mean to do it but when you realize you were going against his orders it’s too late.

His dark eyes peer up at you through thick lashes, you can feel the sadistic grin that twists across his lips against your sopping folds, you know you fucked up. You pull your hand away from your mouth, “N-no, no, ‘m s-sorry. Can’t help it! Y-you’re not making it easy!” You’re pleading with him as he’s pulling away from your cunt. “P-please! I n-need it.” You try to beg more, trying to get back on his good side and get his tongue back against your clit but he doesn’t accept your offer

Nam-Gyu sits back up on his knees, his hands moving up to your waist and squeezing, “I gave you more than enough chances…” he coos, eerily sweet, “was eating your sweet cunt good, wasn’t I?” He scoffs with a raise of his eyebrow. You nod frantically, your hands reaching down to cover his, running up his arms, trying to sweeten him up, “Mhm! S-so good! ‘S why I couldn’t keep still!” You praise, batting your eyelashes up at him.

You think for a split second that you managed to win him back over, a relief washes over you when you think you’re going to be granted the salvation of his tongue on your throbbing pussy once again. But his grin widens and his hand slide down, grasping at your hips with a primal grip.

“Well, since you want to act like a bitch in heat…” he says, the low timbre of his voice sends shivers violently jolting through your whole body. You’re suddenly picked up off the couch by your hips and flipped over. You inwardly scold yourself at how you almost instantly fall into a position on all fours with your back deeply arched. You hear him scoff at your eagerness, “…then you’re gonna be fucked like a bitch in heat.”

When his sentence finishes you can feel him drag the bulbous tip of his cock between your folds, mixing your arousal and his pre-cum into a stick mess that coats your pussy. You let out a shaky breath, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Pushing your hips back, you whine, trying to sink him into your heat. But you weren’t the one in charge here…he was.

He was going to make sure you felt every, single inch of his cock sink into your tight cunt. And he was going to savor you desperately trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock like you have no other thought on your mind other than to be fucked.

“Already makin’ such a mess on my cock. You were so mouthy earlier…” he begins to slowly sink into your cunt only to pull all the way back, “…so bold, all up in my face…” he pushes back in to the tight ring of your pussy ever so slightly, “…so feisty.” And with that, his cockhead finally slips into your cunt. It makes a sickening, wet sucking sound as your pussy greedily sucks him in. “Now look at you.”

A moan is ripped from your throat, the extensive period of time that you have gone without fucked and the devilishly slow entrance of just his tip into your sopping walls already has your toes curling. A moan is ripped from your lips as you drop your chest fully onto the couch, your back arched sinfully deep for him, pressing him deeper into you.

“‘S just the tip and you’re already creamin’ around me like a slut…” He muses, leaning forward a bit to grab both of your arms and cross them behind your back. Both your wrists are restrained by one of his hands. You gasp as your pulled upwards, your face pulled off the leather of the couch. “Heh…. I’m gonna break ya sweetheart…”

His hips become flush with yours in a split second, his cock is balls deep within your cunt. The sudden intrusion has you letting out a silent sob. Instantly, you’re so very full. Nam-gyu is stretching you around him, molding your pussy to the shape of him, removing the thought of leaving him from your mind completely. How could you when he filled you up oh so perfectly.

He stays balls deep inside you for a moment, bringing his hips to a slow grind. “Yeahhh….that’s it… ya feel how deep I am?” He asks, his voice rough and breathy, “Only I can give this pussy what she needs…” he growls, pulling his cock all the way out and then immediately slamming right back in. You’re crying out, eyes crossing and your vision goes hazy. “I’m the only one who can cum in your greedy cunt….” He says, repeating the same motion. When he’s back to being balls deep inside you, he’s leaving over your back and bringing his lips ring next to your ear, “you carried my child.”

He’s emphasizing the word “my” by rolling his hips against your ass, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix. You hated it, but he was right, the moment you carried and gave birth to his child- you were his. From the moment you two met- you were his.

You’re moaning helplessly, gasping an incoherent mix of his name and curses, you’re becoming boneless in his grasp. It feels so fucking good. He gives you no time to adjust before he’s sitting back up and pumping his cock in and out of your tight cunt. The thrusts are vicious, mean even, his thick girth is stretching you impossibly wide and your pussy welcomes him openly, greedily sucking him in.

“Mhm…there you go…she missed me didn’t she?” Nam-gyu rasps, using his grip on your wrists to drag you back to meet every single one of his hard thrusts. His eyes are focused downwards, he’s entranced by the ripple of your ass everytime it comes back to meet his hips. You’re much thicker, curvier, softer than before. Pregnancy had changed your body in ways that sparked a primal hunger inside of him.

You helplessly sob out, the overwhelming pleasure completely taking over your body. Your hips are pushing back to meet his thrusts, trying to sink his cock impossibly deeper into your tight heat. He laughs from above you, realizing your desperation for more. “Greedy fuckin’ thing…” he growls, it’s a dark, gravely tone that sends goosebumps down your arms, “what, ‘s not enough for you?” He chides like you’re giving him a challenge, you can hear the sadistic grin that is spread across his lips.

You’re gasping, shaking your head frantically “n-no ‘s e-enough! ‘S so good!” You try to plead with him by praising his efforts, fearing the impending overstimulation that is about to be thrown on you. He’s drawing his hips back until just the tip of his cock is inside you, he’s humming like he’s thinking to himself. “Hmm…” he lets out, just trusting his cockhead inside your sopping pussy, “you can still talk…so I don’t think it’s enough.” You can hear the mocking pout in his voice, teasing you further.

Nam-gyu lets go of your wrists he was holding behind your back, hands finding their spot on your hips, squeezing the doughy flush in his fists. He’s pile driving his hips flush against your ass in one thrust, sinking balls deep into your gushing cunt. Instantly, he’s stretching you deliciously, pushing into your spasming walls until the tip of his cock is flush against your cervix. A wrecked sob rips through your throat and you’re falling forward onto the leather couch.

He leaves you no time to gather yourself, his hips draw back until just the tip is inside you and then thrusting balls deep inside your warm cunt in rapid, devious strokes. As much as you wish it wasn’t true, he knows your body like the back of his own hand, he knows every little thing that makes you tick, he knows just how to make you cream around his cock- and he wants to make you a mess. He’s driving his thrust upwards at a mean angle, making sure every thrust is hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. All you can do is moan out pathetic babbles of his name and praises.

“Yeahhhh, that’s it…” he coos mockingly, his hips slamming into you at a brutal pace, “‘s all you needed huh? A good fucking to calm you down.” His tone is hushed, his hands are leaving a bruising grip on your hips. He can’t keep his eyes off the way your ass jiggles with every thrust, the way his cock disappears between the soft flesh and reappears covered in your syrupy arousal.

Admittedly, he was right, you did need this. It had been months since you two fucked and the way his cock was stretching you out, hammering against the deepest spot within you, had your body so overwhelmed. Your hand is clasped helplessly over your mouth, muffling the moans that spill from your lips. His grip on the globes of your ass is nearly painful, using it as leverage to pull you back onto him.

“Missed this fucking pussy..” he growls from behind you, “reminds me of why I got you fucking pregnant…” he rambles on, “gripping me so tight, s’impossible to pull out.”

His words make your eyes roll into the back of your head. Every thrust of his hips bullies his cock up against your cervix in a way that has you gasping for air. You’re sobbing incoherently against your hand, every drag of his thick cock reminded you of how you even got to this point in the relationship- the dick was insanely good.

He releases one of your hips to slap your ass, it’s a resounding smack that stings and has the flesh recoiling under the contact, “fucking hell….” He muses, one of his hands coming up and brushing his hair back out of his face, his eyes never straying from the view of your ass slamming against his hips. “Fuck yourself back against me..c’mon, wanna see it.” He rasps out.

He slows his thrusts, nearly stopping completely. Chasing a high you haven’t felt in ages, your body complies. You immediately begin thrusting back, impaling yourself on his thick cock. It’s a delicious, devine stretch that has you biting the palm of your hand. You repeat the motion, speeding up with every wet slap of your hips against his. “Good fuckin’ girl.” Nam-Gyu is praising.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the delicious release of your orgasm, it’s quick, embarrassingly so, but you’re stretched so full and every time you sink him balls deep into your tight heat- a mind numbing wave of pleasure is sent up your spine. It’s an addictive feeling that you keep chasing desperately without even realizing it. You’re speeding up the backwards thrust of your hips, every time you meet his thighs with your ass a wet ‘clap’ resounds through the room.

“O-h fuck, that’s it… j-just like that. D-don’t you dare fucking stop.” Nam-gyu hisses out, a hand coming to thread itself in your hair and form a fist. He cranks your head back, a silent scream falls from your lips as you keep up the motion of your hips, sinking your cunt down onto him. You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “Look at that fucking ass…” He muses, praising the body you were worried he didn’t even like.

He’s leaning forward a bit, his head hooking over your shoulder so his lips were right by your ear. His new position causes the movement of your hips to still, he picks up the slack by rolling his hips into a slow grind. “Gonna cum so f-fucking deep in your cunt.” He growls into your ear. You can hear that he has his teeth clenched, he’s speaking through his teeth like you and your pussy would be the death of him. “O-ohhhhhh, you like that… can feel you squeezing me..y-you want me to cum inside?” He pants, the hand in your hair turns your head to the side so he can leave harsh bites along the column of your neck as he grinds his cock impossibly deeper into you.

“C’mon answer me.. wan’ me to cum in you? Get you pregnant again…” He mocks, “…keep ya like this.” He growls lowly, his hand releasing your hair to grip at the fat of your hips and lower stomach, he’s even punctuating his words with a devious roll of his hips that grinds his cock into your g-spot. A wanton whine falls from your lips. Your back arches even more, deepening into a sinful curve that has Nam-Gyu spinning.

You should say no, call him some name and tell him to go fuck himself. “Nnghh… f-fuck y-yes!” You cry out in a hushed plea, you can’t help it. You need it. trying to thrust back onto his cock. You can feel how wet you were, making a mess of the backs of your thighs and the couch below you. “I-inside please!” You sob, eyebrows knitted together in a pleasured expression. You need so badly to once again experience the feeling of his thick cum filling you.

With both hands holding your hips he’s drawing your body back violently, impaling you on his girth. Every thrust is echoed by a lewd, sticky, ‘schlick’ sound that only proves how much of an influence he has on you. His cock has a mean curve that reaches so deep within you it has you seeing stars. The warmth of your orgasm beginning to blossom over your body and tingle deep within your cunt.

Every time he draws back his hips he’s dragging his cock out of your sopping walls until just the tip rests in your fluttering entrance then driving his hips forward to sink balls deep into you. You know you’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast. Moan after moan falls from your lips as your eyes cross and roll back in pure bliss. “T-that’s it, make a mess on my cock f’me.” Nam-gyu growls through clenched teeth, one hand reaching around to rub quick circles on your clit. The feather light touches that glide across your throbbing bundle of nerves is enough to send you over the edge.

“Ohmygodholyfuck.” You babble out incoherently, fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you fall head first into a violent orgasm. Your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing him like a vice. “Mhmm…f-fuck yeah that’s it…” He hisses, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his other hand on your hips drops under you to grab at your swollen tits in frantic motions, the feeling of the doughy flesh in his hands jiggling with each of his thrusts is all it takes to drive him over the edge.

He’s working you through your orgasm with skilled fingers, your body shaking against his as he cums deep inside your cunt. You can feel it, it’s so much. It fills you even more than his cock already did, coating your gummy walls in its milky white color.

He thrusts lazily a few more times, making sure he properly fucks his cum into your spasming cunt. Your body is shaking and jolting violently against the couch, you can hear the obscene, wet, ‘plap’ of the mixture of your cum and his falling out of your cunt and hitting the sofa below you. The room is filled with alternating heavy breaths and the smell of sex. He slides his hands up and down your sides before resting back on your hips and slowly grinding his cock into you. He can barely bring himself to pull out, the warmth of your cunt is literally sucking him in. He can hear your overstimulated whines of protest with each slow roll of his hips and it drives him wild.

Eventually, he too gets overstimulated- your cunt is simply too good, his personal drug he’s addicted to, his own vice (but he’s never tell you that)- he’s pulling out his softening cock with a hiss, sitting back on his heels to watch his cum slowly seep out of your pussy that still is gaped with the shape of his cock. He groans, eyes rolling back into his skull as he tries to imprint the visual in his brain.

He collapses back onto the couch, one hand on your hip to make you follow suit, gently landing back first on his chest. You try to catch your breath, limply turning yourself over to fall back onto him. When you tuck yourself into his side his arm drapes over your waist. He places a kiss on the top of your head that’s so quick and gentle that you almost can’t feel it. You nuzzle his head onto his chest, you can hear the rapid thrum of his heartbeat. You can’t form words. All you can do is let out a shaky sigh. It’s quiet in the room, only sound you can hear is your heaving breaths that eventually fall into sync with each other.

“You have got to change.” You say, the edge in your voice just emphasizes that you’re hanging on by the thinnest thread possible. You want this to work out- you do- you love him and you adore your child. You want to be a regular family.

“I know.” He says, his voice breathless. His arm tightens around the curve of your waist, pulling you into him like you might suddenly get up and run away-because you might- he can tell with your voice it’s different this time, you’re serious. And he wants to change, he does…he just doesn’t know if he has it in him.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one 😙😙😙 I really appreciate all of y’all’s support it means so much!! I’m working through the requests I have and whipping up some noice fics! Yall have fantastic minds 😩 all the requests are so scrumptious

Im trying to gather all my marbles after being sick so the queue I had goin is a little wonky. im working through it and will update yall on said queue of requests next post! Love yew guys !! - kiwi

[sprytesukii]

18+ | perv!deku x reader (afab anatomy) | cw. dubcon, panty sniffing, izuku has a scent kink, somnophilia (deku jerks off next to sleeping reader), other freak shit (read @ ur own risk !) | < 700 words

when you and izuku finally start dating, you kind of assume all the weird shit he’s been doing will ease up.

all the standing super close behind you and sniffing at the sweat on the back of your neck. the constant staring — at your lips, tits, clothed mound through your pants. all the looming — whenever you enter a room, he’s immediately attached at your hip, a hand curled around your waist.

but no. it’s actually only gotten worse.

he’s over at your apartment all the time now. (you joked once that he might as well move in and with the way his face legitimately lit up, you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were kidding.) it’s sweet, mostly. he really is the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

he cooks you breakfast, buys you flowers when he comes home, rubs your feet after a long day at work. it’s almost enough to make you overlook the … well, strange happenings that started the second he moved in.

for starters, you’ve never had to buy so much new underwear. he swears that when he does the laundry, the washer keeps eating them, but you don’t think it’s a coincidence that the panties that go missing always happen to be the pairs you’ve worn to the gym or on a particularly hot day.

(once, you were in the shower after a intense bout of hot yoga, and you could just barely make out the sound of the bathroom door creaking open over the running water. when you came out, the sweat-drenched underwear that was sitting on top of your dirty clothes was gone. you convince yourself that you dropped them on your way in.)

you’ve also lost a lot of sleep since izuku moved in.

it’s not that you’ve suddenly become an insomniac — you actually fall asleep quite easily, soothed by his quiet breathing and the soft white noise machine he brought with him on one of your many, many sleepovers.

it’s just … on more than one occasion, you’ve woken up in the dead of night to the feeling of izuku’s hot breath against the back of your neck and a wet, rhythmic stroking noise, barely audible over the fan.

he doesn’t touch you, in these events, just presses himself impossibly close to you and inhales. breathes your scent in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

(one time, you woke up, sprawled on your back with izuku’s face almost flush with your armpit, the bed rocking with the force of his thrusts into his fist. he wasn’t quiet that time, whines and whimpers falling free, unabashedly sniffing you, until he came.

you had a difficult time falling back asleep that night, mostly because of the slick coating the seat of your panties.

unsurprisingly, those pair magically went missing during laundry the next day.)

there’s also what happens on nights when izuku is out and there’s a bone deep ache for him in your cunt. you usually use your trusty baby blue rabbit vibrator, pressing it into yourself until you cum (unsatisfied) and fall into a light, fitful sleep.

somehow, though, without fail, it disappears before you can clean it up, only to return to your nightstand by the next morning.

(once, when you asked your boyfriend if he moved it for you, he sent you a blinding smile and kissed you until you forgot what you were talking about in the first place.)

there are other, little things too. nothing too concrete, nothing you could talk to anyone about if you wanted to, but combined, they all start to add up to paint your sweet, incredible, kind, loving boyfriend as some kind of … pervert.

you’ve never spoken to him about the things you’ve noticed about him, about how fixated he seems to be on you and your smell. you kind of figure it’ll pass — it’s just the novelty of living with you for the first time.

eventually, the easy access to your used underwear, your sleeping body, and slick covered vibrator will bore him.

right?

[nanamisgirly]

nanami who is a desperate man.

Damn society, damn work, damn the teasing picture you sent him during his lunch break.

nanami whose cock was blue by now, aching to be inside your sweet little cunt. Damn capitalism that forced him to be at work instead of being inside ur so tight pussy. Damn it!

nanami who looked at the clock, 5pm. Two hours to wait..two little hours, he can do it. he surely can do it.

nanami who, when 7pm reached, did not wait a second longer to leave his work.

nanami who sent you a pic of his hard cock, tip read, already lacking precum before taking the road.

nanami who grilled all those red lights on the road. still made sur not to cause any accident, couldn’t risk being late !

nanami who found you whimpering on their bed, with a sex toy right in between your legs. he couldn’t believe his eyes!

nanami who made sure to punish you correctly for this oh so wrongly behavior. « Pleasuring yourself while i’m not home » he spanked your ass roughly. Shaking his head in disapproval, he added « teasing me with this slutty pic only for you to touch yourself like that » a spank even harder this time, leaving a red mark on your right cheek. That slap had you moaning so loud, you couldn’t help. « tsk tsk tsk, look at you, a total mess..i should rearrange your sweet little inside for this bad behavior you had, don’t you think so? » he said in a deep voice. you swear one more second across his laps, one more slap and you could come just like that. you were too far gone with one of his hand on your lower back forcing you in a mean arch and the other caressing your butt.

« asked you a question.. » nanami’s hand drifting lower « need an answer sweetie » and he suddenly grabbed your pussy. his palm on your entrance and his fingers reaching your clit. god his fingers were so long. « i-i’m- ngh, fuck » his middle finger just circled your clit « what’s that princess, suddenly feeling less bold? thought you could handle some playing after sending me a pic of you so not clothes pussy in this string almost disappearing fully into your cunt » you were making a total mess on his hand down there. his words were no help to calm your euphoric state. as if you wanted him to stop saying filthy words to you

nanami tapped rhythmically now on your clit and used his thumb to play with your fat pussy lips. « Nanami… » you cried out « princess » he simply replied « Please, ngh, so good- but..need more » you put ur face onto the pillow, the friction was so delicious your hips started to move on their own. His other hand went for the back of your head and he grabbed. as mean as the grab on your pussy. he turned your head so you could lock eyes. « i don’t think you’re the one in command. » he removed his hand from between your legs and in one swift motion put you harshly on his thigh. « see, when you provoke and have the nerf to pleasure yourself, waste that sweet taste of yours that i could have licked oh so nicely, and made you reach your climax in a time record..im a litlle…frustrated » you swear his words made you impossibly wetter than you were already, you’re probably sure you even left a big wet spot on his pants.

Nanami had his hands on your hips and made you move sooo slowly, an agonizing pace. « i don’t think you deserve to be fucked all nice » whispering in your ear « that pussy is allll mine, thought that was clear enough » he licked your ear lobe and added « but if you’re so miserably in need of some good cock, i could always put a vibrator in that little whore pussy of yours and control it by distance. I would come from work and ram my big cock into your already drenched pussy. How does that sound, mh? » your walls clenched around nothing, all that teasing put you on the edge « Kento, i-i’m sorry, » he started to leave wet, open kisses all along your neck, biting, sucking « Ngh, Kento~ i won’t do it again, just- oh god » nanami sucked on that sensitive spot, under your ears, his flat tongue pressing on it. He smirked « here we go, calling for god? ma girl i don’t think he could save you from what imma do to you »

nanami who had you on all four, slamming harshly in your cunt. « ‘s big, too- too big~ » your face was pressing onto the pillows by his hand, you were almost suffocating. nanami groaned, slamming harder into you « huh, don’t wanna hear any complain. take it like the good slut you are » you were sur you’d be left with bruises he was basically thrusting into you like an animal. His 9.5 inches bullying your cervix with each thrust. « tho, you’re pussy is very noisy, do you hear those wets sounds ? music to my ears » your walls were spasming around his thick cock « this pussy wants me in forever, she’s trying to suck me in. damn, so fuckin’ tight » and just like that one of his feet was next to your head and he was deeper than ever.

slap, slap, slap

« your cunt is magic, never had a pussy that good, trying to break my cock or somethin’. milking all around it, sooo messy » at this rate he would be the one breaking your hips from the hard grip he had on them. Everything was so mean, so naughty, so good. « kento, » you cried out « i know sweetie, don’t come yet, i wanna, » groan « cum with you » nanami lifted his lips and, with this new angle, he was touching your g-spot. « oh, » you left out, hands gripping around the sheets « no one ever fucked you like that, right? my sweet little girl with that slutty pussy of hers being alllll fucked out » you moaned so loudly, seeing stars « don’t stop, it’s- angh » you were so cockdrunk, nanami bullying your cunt like that was, delightful. « kento~ ‘s too much, p-please, need to- need to cum, please » nanami’s hand went for your clitoris, circling it, pinching it « here we go princess » his hips were going in a frenetic space all we could hear was your skins slapping against each other and of cours your wet pussy's sounds that nanami liked so much.

your legs were trembling underneath him « im here sweetie, let it go » his arms went around your waist straightened you up so your back could rest against his torso. his hand still working on your clit, he used the other to press against your lower stomach « im all the way up here princess ». the pressure on your belly was too good, his hand on your clit was too good, his fat cock was stretching you so good. your climax hit you with waves of pleasure literally shaking your whole body. your gummy walls spasming again and again around him « fuck, » nanami let out in a shaky voice and he came as well after some sloppy thrusts into you, letting out hot, long white streams inside you. he never cum that much-too much, it even lacked out of you…

nanami who bought a vribator the next day so he could put it on your sweet needy cunt.

first writing ever be indulgent, i accept any constructive criticism :D (im still trying to understand how to use this app lmao)

[httpdwaekki]

sleepy cramps | b.c.

summary: your cramps wake you up but channie is there to help.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: i tried to keep it gender neutral, however!! periods and cramps are mentions so read at your own risk.

a/n: omg ash knows how to post at a normal time when she's not sleep deprived *gasp* crazy right? you guys know the drill not proof read too many pet names blah blah. i have realized that i apparently need alot of comfort in my life because that is all i write LMAO. anyway! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

p.s. pls send me some requests i really wanna try and branch out but i have no ideas, okay love u bye. <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

“baby?” you hear a familiar aussie voice call out. “i’m home!” you hear him take off his shoes and set his bag down. “baby?” he yells once more, keys jingling as he places them on a hook by the door.

you let out a grunt, hoping to signal to him where you were. you were currently bundled up half asleep in your shared bed, facing the door. you were exhausted from the day and your period, and barely keeping your eyes open. 

the hall light flicks on before a figure appears in the doorway. you lift up your head a bit, giving him a sleepy smile before settling back into your warm cocoon of soft blankets and plushies.

he smiles before making his way to the side of bed, squatting down to eye level with you. he lifts his hand, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “hi pretty.” your cheeks warm.

“hi bub.” you mumble. “you sleepy bug?” he asks softly. you nod, a yawn escaping you as if emphasizing your drowsiness.

he smiles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “alright bub, give me 10 minutes to get ready for bed then i’ll come lay down okay?” you nod once more, sleepy smile still present on your face.

he moves,  placing a kiss on your lips before standing to his full height. “i’ll be right back!” he yelled, running into your en-suite. you giggle before relaxing into your cocoon, sleep welcoming you quickly.

once chan finished in the bathroom, he came out to find you curled up, now facing his side of the bed, soft even breathes escaping you.

he coos before making his way to his side of the bed. he lifted the sheets, sliding under them before gently pulling you to him, body melting into his.

he wraps his arms around you, “good night my sleepy baby, i love you.” he whispers, placing a kiss on your temple, before relaxing, letting sleep take over.

this didn’t last long however, chan lightly awoke maybe an hour later, to you stirring in your sleep, light whimpers escaping you. after hearing the first whimpers leave your mouth, he was very alert. he quickly looks over your body trying to determine what’s bringing you distress.

he catches a glimpse of your face, which is contorted in discomfort. he places a hand on your cheek once more, trying to gently wake you. “baby wake up.” he whispers, lightly tapping and stroking your cheek.

after a few seconds you finally wake, only to let out a yelp in pain, curling into the body beside you. “hey hey, baby, what’s going on?” he said kissing your head, rubbing your back.

“period.” you managed to get out, trying to curl further into yourself. one arm wrapped around your lower abdomen, the other one clenched into a fist against your forehead.

you start holding your breath unconsciously, praying the pain will subside. chan notices and gently taking your fist in his.

“breathe baby, breathe,” he says calmly, opening your fist to slot your fingers through his. you let out a jagged breath leaning your forehead against your joined hands, “squeeze my hand if you need to jagi but, you gotta breathe baby.” his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

you take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything over than the stabbing pain in your abdomen. “doing so good bug, just breathe.”  his other hand coming up to smooth the crease between your eyebrows. 

your breathing evens out slightly as the pain lessen a bit. a moment of silence passes before you sit up, hands still entwined. chan follows you, rubbing small circles on your back. “did you take medicine earlier?” you nod your head. “right before you got home.”  he hummed, understanding.

 “i’ll be right back, okay?” he whispers, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. you nod slightly, focusing on your breathing. he leans over, placing a kiss to the side of your head before getting up and making his way into the bathroom.

you grab a pillow behind you hugging it as you wait for him to return. a few moments passed before he reemerges with your heating pad in hand. he rounds the bed, plugging in the pad before sitting next to you.

“i’m gonna move this quick, okay?” you nod, moving your arms. he grabs the pillow, placing the heating pad in it’s place. “thank you.” you mumble, leaning on him, placing your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome bug.” he kisses the top of your head before placing his there.

you sit there for a moment before you feel the guilt slowly creep up, the lump forming in the back of your throat. you turn your head into his shoulder as tears start to stream down your face.

“hey, hey, do you want more medicine? what can i do?” he asks, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. you shake your head, before moving to put your hand in your hands.

“i’m sorry channie,” you cried. “i know you’re probably exhausted, and shouldn’t have to deal with this.” you feel him move in front of you before placing his hands on your face, lifting it. “i am your boyfriend, it is my job to take care of you when you need me. and right now you’re in pain because of something you can’t control.” he pauses, looking into your eyes, gently wiping the tears running down your cheeks.

“i will always take care of you, doesn’t matter, time, place, if i’m tired or not, i will always help you. understand?” you nod, moving into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, shoving your face into his neck.

he wraps his arms around your torso pulling you impossibly closer. “i love so much, jagiya. okay?” you nod your head quickly. “i love you too, more than you know.” you say into his neck, placing a kiss on his skin. 

you both stay like that for a moment before chan pulls away slightly. he wipes your tears once more before placing a kiss on your lips. “let’s get you to sleep, hm?” you agree, moving back into the mattress.

you watch him make his way to his side, getting comfortable under the duvet. once settled, he opens his arms for you to lay down. you giggle before quickly laying on him, making sure your heating pad was still in the correct position.

you place a kiss to his jaw before settling into his chest, duvet pulled to cover both of you. “thank you, i love you so much.” he places one last kiss to your head. “ you don’t have to thank me, i love you so much, good night my sleepy baby.” you smile, feeling at peace. “goodnight, channie.” you place a kiss over his heart before both of drift off once more.

do not repost

*feedback is always appreciated as are likes/reblogs!*