#it's only like my second time I do something like this...

[yunalinwrites]

one of my fav kdramas (called youre beautiful) is abt a girl joining a boy band and pretending to be a boy ohshc style except her fellow members dont know and she has to somehow live with them while hiding it 😭 it's so wattpad i love

so imagine being fem!reader sharing a dorm with the saja boys while trying not to get found out

of course u cant hide forever tho so this is how i think you'd get found out and how they'd react:

❓ mystery knew from the start. you didnt realize he was scrutinizing you so closely bc of them fuck ass bangs but from the day you met he could tell just by looking at you. but, much like he does about everything, he kept quiet because he didnt want to freak you out. he found it cute though, every time you'd slip up and get all flustered trying to cover up why you were staring at the dresses at the mall or why you were caught buying pads. so, he'd just smile, pat your head, and calmly help you make excuses. if you walk into the wrong room at the wrong time he'll quietly direct you to a gender neutral bathroom or drape a towel over your eyes whenever the guys got too... carefree in the locker room. lowk helps you hide it from the other members bc he likes it being his little secret

🍼 baby also found out pretty early but also like not really? he walked in on you in the bathroom once and was like "mb" and then he thought about it and was like "wait a sec..." but then he just shrugged it off. and since then for a while in the back of his head he would catch the way you walk or the way you sit or the way your eyelashes look against your cheek and for a split second would think like "is he a chick?" but he never really came to a conclusion bc he just dont gaf. dude or not he treats you pretty much the same. once everyone else starts figuring it out tho thats when he starts acknowledging it. now that everyone else seems to treat you differently as a girl, he starts questioning how to feel or act around you...

💪 abby started rough housing with the other boys and tried to pull you in. lifted you up and not only were you lighter than he expected, your bodies were right up against each other. you did your best to bind your tits down but when you were chest to chest like this it was still noticeable. he awkwardly puts you down and scratches the back of his neck, mumbling an apology. for the next few days his brain is fried thinking about it. he never verbally acknowledges it but he starts being super gentle around you and treating you like you're fragile. feels the need to protect you physically, even if its against the other boys. always keeping watch to make sure they're gentle with you as well.

✨ jinu overhears you out yourself on the phone somehow and is so mad and so flustered at the same time. he's afraid you're going to be a liability if the fans find out and its gonna be a pain to hide but behind all that anger he's just scared of women fr. blushes every time he remembers you're a girl. every time you end up together alone in the living room or catch each other in the hallway, brushing each others shoulders in the slightest, he turns bright red and freaks tf out. somehow though he finds it easier to connect with you emotionally as a girl. with other guys it sometimes feels weird to be vulnerable, but you don't seem to have that shame at all. he admires it. gwi ma probably forced you into this situation so he empathizes with you.

🫶 romance liked to ask you all the time about your love life. asking what your type is, ideal date, dream wedding, do you want kids, etc. you figured it would be safest to just pretend you were a straight dude who liked girls. he wouldnt have cared though. he was starting to feel a little something for you even before you revealed yourself as a girl but refrained from going down that route to stay professional. but when you do reveal yourself as a girl it starts to get even harder to keep that boundary.

🥤 overall once they figure it out none of them tell each other or really say it aloud bc of the implications it has. but they all show it through actions like making sure you're fed and hydrated, letting you use the shower first, asking you if you need a break during rehearsal, etc. but trust, once they all start offering to help you at the same time--like all of them reaching to lend you their marker during fan signings when yours goes dry or surrounding you with 5 different choices of hoodie when you mention you're cold--they start getting real jealous and possessive real soon; they all want to be the one and only you rely on.

eventually though when they all reveal that they all know and everyone's on the same page, they start working together to protect you. all 5 of them wrapped around ur finger 😋 but still fighting for your attention

a/n: ugh i wish i had time/energy to do this properly along w all my other fics for kpdh (this movie has taken over my life) but idk i prob wont LOLL if anyone else wants to build off of this plz go ahead and tag me

UPDATE !!! PROLOGUE OUT NOW 🤑

also masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

saja boys flirting with manager!reader that just does not give a shit and only focuses on their job ?

‘Do you wanna touch my abs?’ Abby said as you were taking to social media to gauge the reactions of Saja Boy’s latest album, thankfully and expectedly the reactions were overwhelmingly positive, a job well done you guessed but it didn’t take much to gain traction when your grouped with conventionally attractive men with voices of angels.

‘I know you secretly do-‘

‘I don’t actually.’ You cut him off with a sharp, tight smile, hoping to be the point across that you were working and didn’t want to be bothered by senseless and meaningless flirting, it was unprofessional and you worked hard enough to get where you were without the unwanted flirting. ‘Besides don’t you have prentice that you should be at right now, we’ve got a video to put out after all.’ You add as you walked away from him, head firmly in your phone where you kept all your schedules and important information to keep this group within the public eye.

Abby only pouts as you walked away, crossing his arms. ‘Everything that breaths wants to touch my abs.’ He tells himself before going to practice like you said, you were certainly something if his flexing didn’t have much of an effect over you.

Romance was close as you overuse the meet and greet, so much so that he might as well have been pressed against you, watching you closely in hopes you’d notice and be rid of the furrow in your brows and the clench in your jaw. He even went to reach out and brush a finger against your cheek, only for your hand to come up and grab him by the wrist.

‘I better have something on my face for you to be doing that.’ You told him as your furrowed gaze was now directly on him, not the way that Romance would’ve liked but he’s got your attention regardless, so he guessed he got what he wanted in the end.

Romance smiled. ‘And what if you didn’t?’

You frowned. ‘Then learn to keep your hands to yourself, you’re too touchy and it’s distracting.’ You tell him as you drop his wrist as he leans in close to you, smirking.

‘I distract you huh?’ He says, completely ignoring the rest of what you had just said, much to your dismay as you groaned about how you couldn’t have been Huntrix’s manager instead, at least they wouldn’t be trying to flirt with you every second of every day. You loved the boys, you really did but they seemed to act as though you could be easily swayed as their fans, which wasn’t true, and completely forgetting that you were their manager half of the time.

‘From doing my job.’ You corrected him. ‘Now take that flirtatious energy and aim it towards the fans that are about to burst through those doors yeah?’ You concluded as Romance could only sigh, vowing to try again another time when you least expect it.

Baby happened to be your favourite band member of Saja Boys. He didn’t bother you as much as the rest of them did, kept himself occupied with spicy foods, or watching videos while indulging in some sweets he got from the nearby convenience store.

However that didn’t mean he was scott free from having moments where he would disrupt your day by whatever means he could. And right now he was sitting with his feet kicked up onto your lap, sucking on a lollipop, acting like he had nowhere better to be.

‘Can I help you?’ You asked as you looked over at him.

He pulls the lollipop out of his mouth and replied, ‘nope,’ before putting the lollipop back into his mouth. You looked at him unamused as you push his feet from your lap, only for Baby to put his feet back on your lap, smirking at your clear dislike of your current position. ‘Then why are you not chugging spicy sauce on a talk show or just in general?’ You asked, hating his lack of transparency in favour of being this nonchalant individual.

‘Am I not allowed to hang out with you?’ Baby asked, raising his brow as though you were scrutinising you for his active choice to be here with you then his band mates. ‘Is it truly a sin to be here with my utterly gorgeous manager?’

‘It is when all you’re going to do is flirt with me the entire time and certainly not when I’m working, so yeah it’ll be a no for me.’ You stated as you once again shoved his feet off of your lap and stood up and walked out of the room, tablet in hand.

Jinu came to you after you were bothered by the rest of the group, late in the night as you were finally getting ready for bed, but felt yourself unable to sleep and instead go out on the apartment balcony that over looked the city.

That’s when he comes to stand close by, your elbows touching ever so briefly, but it felt a lot like you were closer than you actually was. ‘Tired?’ He asked as he watched you rub at the dark bags under your eyes and taking in your overall exhausted body language.

‘It’s the price I pay for keeping you guys in the public zeitgeist.’ You replied, eyes remaining on the city and its billboards that you were certain promoting your boys and their newest song. ‘And a price well paid for too, you’re dominating the charts and becoming more and more popular by the day.’ You add as you finally look over at him, only to see him firmly looking at you with a softness that you weren’t sure you saw before, at least as far as you were aware.

‘That’s all in thanks to your hard work, we just look good and sing.’ Jinu says as his eyes shift from you to the city then back to you again, his hands twitching as though he wanted to hold yours but was holding himself back from doing so. ‘You deserve all the praise for getting us where we are. You’re exceptional.’ He concludes.

You puffed your chest in pride, not aware that he may or may not have been flirting with you, instead finally being recognised for all your hard work and dedication to the group and their ever growing popularity. ‘I am exceptional aren’t I?’ You rhetorically asked.

‘Yes you are.’ Jinu replied, watching you as you beam with pride as a smile graced his lips. ‘Charming and charismatic too.’ He piles up the compliments that seemingly went over your head, or were intentionally being dismissed by you as you patted him on the shoulder and said. ‘Welp! We better get some sleep as we’ve got a big day ahead of us to prepare for and I’ve got a schedule to keep and don’t feel like wasting time trying to wake one of you up because you didn’t rest properly.’

And with that you left Jinu on the balcony as you went to bed, switching off your light and everything as Jinu was left wondering if that had just happened.

Mystery hovered over you like an over protective guard dog. He was attentive, silent but ready to start barking at things he thought were intruding on his territory.

He might as well have been sat on your lap at this point when you were gauging what would keep the fans attention, looking on social media if there was anything that they wanted to see from Saja Boys, and keeping tract of the fact that they were to go on a show in a couple of hours where they’d have to eat chicken wings dipped in hot sauce that got gradually hotter while talking about how they came together amongst other things.

Mystery nudged your side to get your attention. Nothing.

He nudged your side again. Nothing, you were glued to your phone.

Mystery huffs and puts himself between you and your phone by shoving his head into your lap, acting like that of an overgrown dog that didn’t understand that he was too old to be sitting on your lap anymore. You huffed this time and looked at him as he looked back at you, small smile upon his lips as his plan ahd worked to his advantage, yet you were only significantly behind on your work and weren't up for any distractions from anyone in the slightest.

'Yes?' you asked, only for Mystery to put your free hand upon his head, his silent plea for you to run your fingers through his hair, unfortunately for him you weren't in the mood to that today as you hated to be off schedule even if it was by a milisecond.

You removed your hand from his head, making him pout at your lack of touch, tilting his head to the side as if to ask what you were doing. 'i can't today i need to get back on schedule, seen as how half of you seemed to have forgotten that you're meant to be on a press tour. we need to be puncutual abovr anything else.' You tell him as your attention is brought back to the tablet.

Mystery didn't like that all that much, hating your lack of attention, snatched the tablet from your hand and ran away with it, much to your dismay as you took our your phone and sighed. 'I swear he acts more dog then anything, love him, but at least i can hopefully get work done now i'm alone.'

Meanwhile poor mystery was waiting for you to come after him like he thought you would for thirty minutes before remembering that you could easily have done your work from a phone or a laptop within your vicinity, he returned the tablet shortly afterwards.

[aventurineswife]

Can i ask... hsr men with a reader who always calls them by their name, when the reader suddenly uses a pet name, an intimate one at that out of nowhere? Like, would they ignore would they get flustered or stuff?

“Call Me That Again and I’m Yours”

Synopsis: They’ve always known you as someone steady—reliable, composed, respectful. Names were a boundary you never crossed. Until you did. Suddenly, a soft pet name slips from your lips—they can only respond in the only way they know how.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Caelus x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Romantic Tension, Emotional Vulnerability, Subtle Fluff, Soft Pet Names, Slow burn/Sudden Intimacy, Banter turning Tender, Hurt/Comfort (esp. for Mydei and Sunday), Stoic Men Unraveling, Subtext and Suppressed Feelings, Unexpected Reactions.

Warnings: Light mentions of blood (Mydei's scene), Slight angst / emotional baggage, Suggestive tension (Aventurine, Dan Heng), Emotional themes (e.g., trauma, guilt, redemption).

A/N: I might have to do multiple parts of this req, so let me know which characters you wanna see next! :DD

You’d always called him Aventurine—not Kakavasha, never anything soft. Just Aventurine. Clean, professional, distant. Even during your playful banter or those late-night strategy sessions when his voice dipped and his eyes lingered a little too long, you’d kept the line firm.

But tonight, as he adjusted the roulette brooch on his collar, you walked past him, leaned in, and murmured, “Looking sharp tonight, darling.”

He froze. For precisely 0.5 seconds—a brief hitch in his well-oiled persona. His fingers paused mid-adjustment, and the ever-present grin twitched, faltered… then curved into something slower. Something far more dangerous.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes flicking to yours like dice clattering on velvet. “Did my ears deceive me, or have you just raised the stakes?”

You arched a brow, amused. “I figured it was time to gamble a little.”

His smile widened, but you saw it then—the faint crack in his composure. The way his hand ghosted behind his back, fingers twitching in the air like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or push you away. That name—it wasn’t just cute. It was intimate. Dangerous. It threatened the mask he so carefully wore.

“Careful,” he whispered, stepping closer until your breath caught. “Use that word again, and I might start to think you mean it.”

You smiled back, just as daring. “Maybe I do.”

And just like that, for once, you’d left him unsure who was winning.

“Sunday, we need to address the guest list again. The ceremony’s balance will collapse if—”

“—We include the North Sector delegates, yes,” he interrupted gently, hands folded, gaze serene. “I am already aware.”

You sighed, scribbling notes. Same old Sunday—graceful, poised, untouchable.

“Fine, love, but if this flops, I’m blaming you.”

Silence.

You didn’t catch it at first. His reaction was… almost imperceptible. The pen stilled between his gloved fingers. His eyes flicked toward you with the smallest shift of light. There was no smile, no obvious response, but something behind his gaze unraveled—like a ripple across still water.

“…‘Love’?” he repeated quietly, voice low, measured.

You looked up, unsure if you should laugh it off. “It just slipped.”

“I see.”

He returned to his work, posture perfect—but you noticed he hadn’t written a word since. His mind was elsewhere. The halo above his head shimmered subtly, like it pulsed in time with his heart.

It wasn’t embarrassment. It was something deeper. As if the word had struck a chord he’d long buried—something warm, painful, human.

“…You shouldn’t use a word like that lightly,” he finally said, glancing at you again.

“And if I didn’t?”

His lips parted, then closed. No answer. But his gloved hand slowly reached over and rested on yours, just for a moment. A silent concession. A rare flicker of vulnerability.

You'd breached something sacred—and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull away or fall in.

You found him alone after the skirmish, sitting on the edge of a ruined stone altar, cape torn, armor dusted with ash. The blood wasn’t his, but it stained his hands all the same.

“Mydei,” you called softly, approaching him through the rubble.

He didn’t look up. “I told you to stay with the others.”

“I don’t take orders well.”

A pause. Then a sigh—more relief than exasperation. His eyes finally met yours, heavy with exhaustion and something else: grief he didn’t voice, names he couldn’t forget.

You reached out, thumb brushing a line of red from his jaw. “You’re safe… Beloved.”

He blinked.

“Say that again.”

You tilted your head. “Beloved?”

He stood, slowly, towering, not in a threatening way—but like the weight of that word shifted the battlefield under your feet. He stepped closer until you had to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“No one’s called me that since…” His voice cracked, just slightly. “Since before the sea swallowed me whole.”

You swallowed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said, reaching out with a hand trembling with restraint. “No, don’t stop.”

In a world where titles were earned through blood and legacy, beloved was the one name he’d longed for but never dared to claim.

You gave it freely—and that was the one war he didn’t know how to fight.

Dan Heng stood silently in the Archives, eyes scanning over glowing data logs. You approached, hands behind your back, watching the way the soft blue light played across his features.

“Dan Heng,” you said as usual. He hummed softly, acknowledging you without turning.

You reached his side, pretending to study the data, but your focus was on the curve of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow.

“I brought you some tea. Thought you could use a break, darling.”

The word slipped out, soft and syrupy.

Dan Heng froze.

His grip on the datapad faltered. He didn’t look at you immediately, but his ears turned a vivid shade of pink.

“…What did you call me?” he asked, tone low, almost cautious.

You played innocent. “Hmm? Oh, nothing, Dan Heng.”

He finally turned, eyes narrowed, a faint flush still lingering on his cheeks. “You did. Say it again.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Darling?”

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, trying to maintain composure. He failed spectacularly. The calm, cool Dan Heng couldn’t meet your eyes for a solid thirty seconds.

But when he finally did, he stepped closer.

“…If you’re going to say things like that,” he murmured, voice softer now, “Don’t be surprised when I stop pretending I’m unaffected.”

You and Caelus had been walking side by side after a mission, stars glittering above. You laughed about something he’d said, casually bumping your shoulder against his.

“You always do this, Caelus,” you said, teasing. “Charging in like you’ve got plot armor or something.”

“I mean, I might,” he joked. “Main character energy and all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure thing, love.”

The moment the word left your lips, silence fell.

Caelus tripped over his own foot.

He caught himself quickly, turning to you with wide eyes. “Wait. Did you just call me—?”

“I did,” you confirmed with a sly grin. “Something wrong with that, love?”

His expression shifted, uncertain whether to be flustered or flattered. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with color.

“I… No. I mean, it’s not wrong. Just. Unexpected.”

You nudged him again. “You’re cute when you’re trying not to smile.”

“I’m not trying not to smile,” he said quickly, then failed to hide the shy grin tugging at his lips. “Okay, maybe I am. Call me that again.”

The battlefield was quiet now, monsters defeated, the sunset casting golden hues across the ruins. Argenti stood tall, brushing dust from his armor with knightly grace.

You approached, hands behind your back.

“Argenti, you were amazing back there,” you praised, as always.

He nodded humbly. “Merely fulfilling my duty to Beauty and righteousness.”

You smiled. “Of course, beloved.”

Argenti blinked.

The word echoed.

He turned to you slowly, as if unsure he’d heard correctly. “Beloved…?”

You tilted your head, eyes innocent. “Yes?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, lips parting slightly in astonishment. “You honor me with such a name… Are you certain… I am worthy of it?”

“You’ve always been worthy,” you said softly.

He took your hand, kneeling with a reverent grace, eyes shining. “Then allow me to dedicate not only my blade but my heart to you. For Beauty may guide me, but you, my beloved, inspire me.”

You laughed, a little flustered yourself now.

Leave it to Argenti to turn one pet name into a poetic vow.

[forthelorewick]

Another one couldn’t hurt…. right? Pt. 2

WC 7.5k - daddy joel, but not in that way… is very persistent in his pursuit to get what he wants.

NSFW 18+ MDI !!!

- Warnings / content: explicit sexual content, no outbreak!au, husband!joel x wife!reader, domestic fluff, smut, pwp, unprotected p-in-v sex, breeding kink/ pregnancy kink/ impregnation kink, soft dom!joel, size kink, praise kink, possessiveness, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of going off of birth control, mild mention of a itty bitty lactation kink… after care, fluff, established relationship (reader & Joel are married), age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is late 40s), mentions of past pregnancy, results of pregnancy, etc.

pt 1 |

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

It’s been about a month since you and Joel started trying again, a month of him keeping you filled to the brim every moment he had you alone, and oddly enough… it seemed to be happening more and more.

Since the birth of your first, you’d both made a promise, spoken late one night over the soft snoring of a newborn tucked between you. A promise to choose each other, again and again, not just as parents, but as husband and wife, best friends and lovers. So every second Friday of every month, you carved out time to be just that. To have dinner alone, touch base, breathe each other in without any distractions and the ability to unapologetically be all over each other. Whether the kids stayed with your parents, your sister, or Tommy… who’d moved back in with Joel’s dad after their mom passed, it was your ritual now. Your rhythm.

Lately, though? It had become every Friday. Joel started arranging the hand-offs himself, and the moment the house was empty, he’d have you in his arms… pulling you close, whispering promises into your skin, leading you out the door with his hand low on your back.

He’d take you to dinner, always somewhere dim and romantic, with candles and wine… but recently only mocktails for both of you, and that look in his eye. The one that made your whole body ache with anticipation. The one that said, ‘You’re mine, and I’ll never get enough of you.’

He was never this intense about the other pregnancies. Never this deliberate. You figure it’s because you both know it’ll be the last. So now… it’s different. You swear the dinner’s just foreplay. Not in the way that it’s only the means to an end, but in the way that he uses it to tease you and work you up in a place where you can’t do a thing about it.

The restaurant is dimly lit, the kind of place with soft jazz playing under the low hum of conversation. It smells like rosemary and something slow-cooked. Joel’s thumb rubs lazy circles against your hand across the table, your fingers loosely threaded as he watches you with that infuriatingly smug, endlessly soft look on his face.

You roll your eyes at him, though your smile gives you away. “You gonna eat that steak or just make heart eyes at me the whole time?”

Joel doesn’t flinch, “Can’t do both?”

“You’re the worst.” You don’t mean that in any true sense of the word, and he knows that.

He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles slow and deliberate like he’s got all the time in the world to worship you in tiny touches. “Well, you’re wearin’ that dress, so that’s on you.”

Your stomach flutters, heat pooling low in your belly.

Every Friday, it’s the same game. The same sly glances, the same brush of his shoe against your ankle, the same way his eyes dip to your lips when you lick butter off your fingertip. The way his eyes drink you in every moment you’re preoccupied with your food or taking a sip of your drink. The way he tilts his head, and the low hum in his throat when your knee brushes his.

“You’re just mad I order better than you,” you murmur, lifting your fork to steal a bite from his plate anyway.

Joel watches you chew with a grin that you think he does just to show off his dimples which drive you mad, “You touch my potatoes, you get consequences later.”

You click your tongue thoughtfully and return a lopsided grin, “Promises, promises.”

He groans quietly and shakes his head, like he’s physically restraining himself from hauling you to the bathroom right that moment, “You’re a goddamn menace.”

You sip your drink, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve known that since you bought me that coffee on that fateful morning,” You bite your bottom lip and stifle a laugh at the thought of it.

He leans back in his chair and chuckles deeply in kind, you loved reminiscing over your life together. On how it all came to be. “You were such a young thing… so eager, y’just couldn’t help yourself. Had me wrapped around your finger from the moment I met ya,” his gaze travels over you, to describe it as him ‘drinking you in’ wouldn’t be too far-fetched. Not with the way you see his tongue peeking out to moisten his lips as if in anticipation of tasting you… you could see that look in his eyes where he was mapping out exactly how he’ll do it.

You have to snap yourself out of that thought as he tilts his head and clocks your body language immediately. But he doesn’t push, he just lets it simmer. But just like you knew him… he knows you. Somehow, likely, even more.

“And I’d do it all again. Every side eye in public, every dollar I spent on coffee from that overpriced café… to every sleepless night with the kiddos, every goddamn blowout, every tantrum… Just to end up right here.” He presses his finger onto the table between you to emphasize his point.

A life chosen and never regretted. Every version of you and every version of him, every turn and every choice that led to this. Joel never says anything he doesn’t mean, when he gives you something, it’s because he needs you to know it. And that’s what makes every word of his so impactful and that hazy arousal caused by just him such an issue on a daily basis. But he loved it, loved the game of getting you all worked up over seemingly nothing, but he always knows exactly what he’s doing.

You press your napkin to your mouth, not to wipe it, but just to give yourself a second to breathe, the man was so well-versed with you and you with him, but he still never failed to take your breath away, to make you so desperate for more of him in every way.

You knew you’d never tire of him, of the way he makes you feel, of just everything about him. You loved him so much that the anticipation of him coming home every day felt like you were only half awake until he wrapped those strong arms around you and planted his lips on yours.

You settle into the heat of his gaze, let it wrap around you like the warm candlelight dancing in his big, brown eyes.

And then you say it, too casual for what it means, but with your heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it across the table, “I missed my period.”

Joel stills mid-bite, fork suspended, “Yeah?”

You nod, slow. “Wasn’t sure at first. Thought it might just be late. But… there was some light bleeding last week. Not like a period. Just… spotting.”

His jaw ticks, eyes narrowing just a little in focus, “Implantation?”

“Could be.”

There’s a long pause like the air itself is holding its breath.

Joel sets his fork down gently, like he’s grounding himself. Then he exhales through his nose and gives you a look so full of love and want and need… like you hung the moon and he’s already cradling the possibility in his hands. It makes your ribs ache.

“Well, holy shit,” he says softly, his breath shakes for a singular inhale, then evens out again, “Guess I better keep doin’ what I’m doin’.” A flash of heat flickers in his eyes as his eyes slowly trail down your body and settle on the place a baby, your baby, his baby could be growing right that very second. It’s like the moment is suspended, his breath is slow and shallow like he’s really letting it settle.

You laugh, but it comes out shaky. “You’re not gonna say anything else?”

He tilts his head, eyes locked on yours again like he’s seeing straight through to every part of you, heart, body, and soul. “You want me to say somethin’ other than I fuckin’ love you? That I want this?” He shrugs slightly, eyes going soft and dark all at once. “’Cause I do. And I just… I’m trying to process it but goddamn, this is big news.”

Your throat tightens, “I know,” you say quietly.

And you do. Because even across the table, even after years and kids and everything life has thrown your way, Joel Miller still looks at you like he’s choosing you for the first time.

You reach across the table again and trace his wrist with your fingertips, “You ready to not sleep for who knows how many more years?”

Joel’s lip twitches. He sets his drink down without looking away from you, “I wasn’t gonna sleep anyway. s’what coffee’s for, darlin’.” He eyes you up and down again as if imagining the changes already, “Worth it to see you all swollen and glowin’ again and I’ll be too goddamn gone for you. I’ll be at your every beck and call.”

You watch him for a beat, the curve of his forearms under rolled sleeves, tan and strong. The way the fabric strains just a little where it buttons over his chest.

He looks back at you, head tilted, “What?” he asks, his eyes studying yours, a toothy grin on that handsome face of his.

You shake your head, “Nothing. I just really like you.”

Joel’s smile deepens, but there’s something shy in it now, boyish almost. “Yeah?”

You rest your chin in your hand and nod, “Yeah. Like a lot. Think I’m falling in love all over again.”

He lets out a quiet exhale, like he can’t quite handle that, like no matter how long he’s been yours, you still catch him off guard too, “Think I’d say the same happens to me nearly every day.” His foot shifts under the table, nudging yours again.

You look at him with those doey eyes you never realize you’re doing until he points them out.

Joel clocks it immediately, and you see the way his throat bobs when he swallows, how his fingers tighten slightly around the base of his water glass like he needs to ground himself.

“There they are,” he murmurs, a little dazed, a little wrecked. “Those damn eyes.”

You open your mouth to play dumb, but he just leans forward, elbows on the table now, voice low and reverent.

“You look at me like that, baby, I start thinkin’ about forever all over again.”

The words settle between you like silk, weightless but impossibly thick with meaning. The air grows warmer, heavier, humming with something unspoken and ancient and so sure. That love that doesn’t need proving, just noticing.

You reach for his hand again, and he lets you lace your fingers through his like it’s instinct. Like it’s muscle memory. His thumb rubs along yours, slow, steady, and then he brings your hand to his mouth again, kissing the inside of your wrist this time.

“You nervous?” he asks, more serious now.

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek, “Not really nervous. Just… aware. Like I’m scared to get too hopeful too fast, y’know?”

Joel nods slowly. “I get it.” He leans forward again, his voice soft. “But I’m already hopin’, baby. Been really hopin’ since I came inside you that first week you went off your birth control.”

You cover your mouth to stifle a laugh, “Jesus.”

“Don’t ‘Jesus’ me, you knew what you were doin’,” he grins, those brown eyes lighting up and sending butterflies through your chest then… straight down, “You bent over the dryer that time, I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”

You pull your lip between your teeth as you smiled, a blush spreading on your cheeks.

“Knew it…”

You break into quiet laughter, warm and completely at ease. “Okay, fair.”

He lets the moment breathe, then reaches across the table again, hand warm over yours.

“We’ll be okay,” his eyes flicker in the candlight, almost golden. “However this turns out. You and me, we always figure it out.”

You nod, squeezing his hand, thumb brushing over the calluses that showed just how hard he works to provide for his family, for you.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The restaurant hums around you, soft clinks of silverware, the low murmur of conversation, the gentle flicker of candlelight casting amber shadows across Joel’s face. He’s watching you the way he always does, like you’re a sunset, a firelight glow he can’t stop reaching for.

His gaze drops to your joined hands, then leans back slightly, just enough to really look at you. He takes his time, he always does. His eyes trace your face, every angle, every familiar shift of expression, “I just… I feel lucky, y’know? That we still get to do this. That we want to. That I look at you and know with everything I am that I want you, that I need you, and that you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

The tone shift sends a shiver down your spine as his grip on your hand tightens and that flicker in his eyes darkens.

You see it hit him again, the possibility and the reality that you might be carrying his child. You see the realization in the tick of his jaw and how his thumb brushes against the back of your hand like he’s memorizing the rhythm of your pulse. He’s watching you, studying you as if he’s trying to comprehend it, to let it settle deeper, and you can tell the thought is consuming him by the way his tongue glides across the front of his teeth, a telltale sign he’s deep in thought.

You swallow, pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips.

His eyes dip to your stomach with a hungry, awed sort of longing. Like he’s picturing it, picturing the swell and the glow again.

And when his eyes return to yours, there’s no mistaking what’s behind them. You see his eyes flare with possession and devotion, with the unmistakable glimmer of ferality.

“You alright, baby?”

Joel shifts in his seat, shoulders tense like he’s holding something back, he nods once. “Can’t fuckin’ think about anything else right now, sweetheart.”

He leans forward again, eyes flicking to your lips. “Want you round and glowy and needy again. Want to take care of you every minute. Rub your back, kiss your belly, hold you at night with my hand right where the baby’s growin’.”

Your throat goes dry.

He huffs a quiet breath, shakes his head, “Ain’t right how bad I wish I could just keep ya pregnant, just round and full of my babies forever.”

But the way he’s looking at you says he doesn’t care if it’s right or not, because it’s real. And it’s clear to you that the moment he gets you home, he’s not going to be able to hold back. He never can and you truly hope he never does.

—

By the time you make it home and the front door clicks shut behind you, you’re already pinned.

Your back hits it with a soft thud, and Joel’s mouth is on yours before you can even catch your breath. His hands bracket your hips, possessive and warm, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your dress like he’s seconds from tearing it in half.

You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it whole.

“You have any idea what you do to me?” his voice is frayed at the edges. His thigh presses between yours, forcing your legs apart, rocking into you like he can’t get close enough. “All fuckin’ night I was sittin’ across from you, starin’ at your mouth, your fuckin’ eyes, thinkin’ about you soakin’ and needy for me, thinkin’ about you pregnant again…”

“I know… I was there..” you tease him as your fingers find purchase in his soft, greying curls at the nape of his neck. “You know what you do to me?”

He stills for a beat, his chest rising fast, eyes locked on yours like he’s clinging to every breath you take.

“What do I do to you?” he asks, his voice a rasp in your ear, wrecked and reverent all at once. His lips brush your cheekbone as he speaks, “Tell me, sweetheart.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging just enough to earn a groan, and his hips jerk forward slightly like he needs the friction, needs your answer just to hold it together.

“You make me ache,” you whisper, breath warm against his jaw. “All day. All the time. You walk past me, and I forget what I was doing. I watch you roll up your sleeves and I’m wet. I hear your voice and I’m, god, Joel, I’m fucking gone for you.”

He exhales hard and his forehead drops to yours, and for a moment he’s still again, just holding you like he’s trying to regain some composure that was rapidly slipping away.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost a plea. “Can’t get enough of ya.”

Then his mouth crashes into yours hungrily again and he walks you backward toward the couch without letting go of you for even a second.

“Joel,” you gasp, your head tipping back, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth trails down your neck, biting gently into the soft flesh there, marking you as if you could be anymore his. “We should, we should go to bed…”

“Nuh-uh,” He lays you down like he’s handling something fragile, even as his body covers yours with a need that’s anything but gentle. His palm splays over your stomach again, whispering something indiscernible to himself, “Can’t wait, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist on instinct, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he presses you into the couch, his weight settling above you, heat and need emanating from him.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail higher, pushing your dress up and over your hips, then off entirely as you lift accordingly to assist him in his task, he’s quick to undo and discard your bra on the floor next to the couch. His knuckles brush your skin like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

“Gotta be careful,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Gotta be careful so I don’t—But I need, fuck, I need…” you don’t know what the hell he was trying to say, or maybe you did, but what you really knew was that you needed him inside of as soon as humanly possible and you couldn’t have that beautiful brain of his thinking too hard right now.

You tug him down to kiss you, one hand in his hair, the other already fumbling with his belt.

Joel groans low and deep like it’s being torn from his chest, his mouth finding yours again as he shucks his pants down just far enough and basically rips your panties off. His cock is hot and heavy, already leaking at the tip as he presses the length of it against your core, sliding through your slick with a sound that makes you both groan.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, forehead pressed to yours, voice rough but trembling. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth, the scruff of his jaw. “Always. Forever. I want all of you.”

Joel presses in slow, deep, and careful… but the grip he has on your hips is bruising, and his breath betrays the need that thrums beneath his skin as he pants against your skin, groaning softly when he finally bottoms out.

He stays there for a moment, buried inside you, one hand cupping your face, the other still gripping your hip in desperation.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You, carryin’ my baby… Gonna take care of you. Gonna fuckin’ worship you forever.”

His words melt into your skin, heat and promise wrapped in every syllable.

You moan, soft and broken beneath him, your arms curling around his shoulders like you could somehow hold him closer than this. “Joel,” you breathe, “Please move.”

His hips snap forward, deep and steady, and you cry out, nails digging into the fabric covering his back. He groans again, louder this time, a sound that rumbles in his chest and spills into your mouth as he kisses you hard and messy and desperate. Every thrust is deliberate, full of something wild and possessive, like he’s branding this into both of you.

“I think about it all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, thrusting harder now, hand sliding up to cradle your head like you’re breakable even when he’s fucking you like he’s starving. “You round with my baby again. Knowin’ I did that. An’ everybody who looks at’cha will know I’m the one who fucked a baby into you again. The only one who ever will.”

“Joel…” You gasp his name, voice cracking on it, your thighs trembling around his hips.

He groans and shifts, angling deeper until you sob, his name the only word you remember. “Yeah, that’s it. Take it for me, sweetheart.”

His forehead drops to yours again, you can feel the slight dampness to his skin as he perspires. The heat of your bodies literally melting you together.

His hips begin stuttering with every squeeze of your pussy around him, “can feel ya squeezin’ me, sweetheart… gonna cum for me?”

Your body is unraveling around him, every nerve lit up and frayed. You nod, unable to speak, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it. You reach for him blindly, your fingers tangling in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, grounding yourself in the only thing that feels real.

Joel moans like the sound’s been punched out of him, his hips faltering for half a second before slamming back in even harder. “C’mon, baby,” he pleads, voice wrecked. “Need you to cum on me. Wanna feel you break on me.”

You let out a gasp that turns into a cry as you cum, your legs locking tight around him, walls clenching down so hard on his cock it forces a growl from his throat. His mouth crashing against yours, swallowing your moans like he needed to feel it in his bones. Then he’s picking up his pace again, breaking the kiss and panting hot against your skin.

“That’s it,” he breathes against your temple. “Goddamn, that’s it. Just like that, sweetheart.”

You’re still shaking when he presses in deep and stills, his own release hitting him like a wave, his hips jerk once, twice, and then he’s spilling into you with a broken groan, muttering your name like a prayer. One hand grips your hip so tight you know you’ll have an array of bruises to admire later, his other hand slides protectively over your belly again.

When he finally stills, when the tremors ease and his breathing steadies, he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your shoulder, his beard dragging rough over your skin leaving it flushed and raw. His hand grips your thigh, keeping your legs wrapped tight around him.

“Goddamn,” he rasps, voice low and trembling. “You fuckin’ ruin me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he’s already moving again slow, instinctual thrusts that make you gasp and arch, oversensitive but needy still. He’s only half-hard inside of you as he comes down from his high, but you know he’s just making a point of fucking his spend deeper inside as if he needed to really solidify your potential pregnancy, as if it would change a damn thing if you already were.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, his nose brushing yours. “How full you are? That’s all mine, baby. I’m the only one that gets to do this to you.”

You pull his head back gently by the nape of his neck, eager to just look at him. You’ve always been obsessed by the way he looks after sex, that sleepy, dreamy look when he gets what he wants.

“You really think you’re pregnant?” He’s coming back to earth now, and you can see it in his eyes and the way they’re searching yours.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth again and nod.

He watches with apt attention, and you know how he reacts when you do certain things. Even when they weren’t always intentional on your part, you’re always aware of what you’re doing by his reaction.

“Goddamn, hun… can’t fuckin’ believe you’re makin’ me a daddy again,” his eyes light up in the way you’d known they would when he finally let it settle in his mind.

“A whole other person growin’ inside ya, darlin’, you’re a goddess… creatin’ life.”

“You’re part of this whole thing too, you know.” You run your fingers through his hair and he hums in approval.

“Thanks for the credit, baby, but I’m just the guy who got to fuck you raw until it took.”

You shake your head and laugh lightly, “a little underselling yourself, no?”

He just shrugs and gives you that toothy grin you never tire of, “just happy to be here.”

You smooth the back of your fingers down his cheekbone and cradle his face in your hands, memorizing this moment.

“I’ll be the best daddy and doting husband as I can be.”

“You already are. I'm so lucky to have your babies, I’d have a million of ‘em if I could.”

He peppers your faces with kisses and groans as you knead your fingers into the tight muscles of his back, “You spoil me, y’know that right?”

You grin and simply pull him into another kiss. He hums against you again and you feel a twitch of his cock which was still inside you. You squeeze around him in acknowledgement and he groans.

“Dammit, darlin..”

“What?”

He just shakes his head and smooths the hand that was gripping your hip up your body until it’s cupping one of your tits.

Joel’s voice is hoarse, reverent even as he mouths at your throat, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder. He leaves marks all over your neck, you can feel the sting of his beard over raw skin, it makes you whimper beneath him but he’s not done, he’s never done… “Been thinkin’ about your tits bein’ full again,” he rasps, breath fanning hot over your skin. “Leakin’ through your shirt, swollen and sore… mine to touch, mine to take care of. You, feedin’ our baby in the middle of the night while I hold you… rub your back… kiss that sweet neck, ease the ache of this needy pussy whenever you need it, alright?”

You whimper, arching into his touch as he palms your breast, thumb grazing your nipple, and he groans like he’s starving for you again.

“Fuck, look at ya,” he mutters, gaze flicking between your face and where his hand works your body then drags all the way down your body to look at where you and him are still joined, “You’re all flushed, still squeezin’ me tight inside like you want it again already.”

He rocks into you, slow and deliberate, just enough to tease, to feel that wet slide of his once again hardened cock still buried deep.

You gasp, the overstimulation starting to blur into need all over again, hips instinctively tilting toward him. “Joel, please.”

“I know, baby,” he whispers. “You spoil me so fuckin much. Every day you give me everything. Your body, your time, our babies, your love… you’re a fuckin’ gift, that’s what you are.”

You breathe his name like it’s holy, his words, his hands… his cock, you could’ve sworn you were in heaven. Your body and brain felt elevated like the only thing keeping you down on this earth was his body pressed into yours and his cock rocking in and out.

His hands keep you pressed into the couch cushions, the bead of sweat dripping down his neck and you pull him in, pressing his face to your neck so you have access to his, dragging your tongue up his pulse point like you’d been dying to do all night.

He groans and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, enough to leave a mark, he lavishes your skin with his tongue in what he calls “scenting you”. You’re a mess of moans and sweat-slicked bodies and his shirt being on still is driving you fucking crazy, you need his skin against yours, you need to absorb him into you.

He can sense your urgency as you finally unbutton his shirt and he chuckles, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Something you need, darlin? Use your words.”

Oh, he was a goddamn menace. All you could do was whimper as he rolls his hips against yours again, the coarse hair above the base of his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit.

“Cmon, baby, tell me what you need.”

You look up at him and his eyes are dark and intense as they look down at your desperation.

“Need to feel you… please.”

He laughs, and it sounds so maniacal to you, like he’s drunk on your body and your need, the slick heat of you wrapped around him. Like he knows exactly how fucking desperate you are and he’s savoring every second of it.

“All that whimperin’,” he grits out, hips still rolling slow and mean, “and you tellin’ me you need me? Baby, I’m already inside you.”

You squirm beneath him, breath hitching on a sound that’s not quite a sob, not quite a plea. “Joel,” you whisper, your voice breaking like you’re right on the edge, “your shirt… please..”

His jaw flexes and that little muscle ticks in his jaw as he stares down at you. His hands release your wrists but only so he can sit up and shove the shirt off like it’s offending him. His chest is flushed and heaving, and the moment it’s bare, he falls right back into you, finally giving his sweat-slicked body to your hungry eyes.

“Christ,” he breathes as his chest meets yours, skin to skin now, your nipples brushing his chest hair, your legs locked around his hips like you never wanna let him go. “You’re fuckin’ insatiable.”

You whimper again, nails dragging down his now-bare back like you’ve been waiting all night to do it. “You make me crazy,” you gasp. “I swear to god, Joel, you—”

“Yeah?” he cuts in, voice ragged and so full of affection it hurts. He presses a kiss to your jaw, your cheek, your temple, one hand tangling in your hair to keep your mouth near his. “Been sittin’ across from you all damn night thinkin’ about this… about how warm you are inside, how you fuckin’ grab at me when you’re close, how you look when I fill you up.”

You cry out as he thrusts again, somehow even deeper now, sweat slicking your skin and your bodies sliding together with every movement.

“Wanted to fuck you in that dress, baby,” he groans. “Was thinkin’ about tearin’ the damned thing in half.”

“You should’ve,” you rasp, clenching around him, trembling now as that wave builds again, heat flooding through your core. “Should’ve ruined me in the parking lot.”

Joel grins into your neck, voice low and wrecked, “Don’t tempt me, darlin’. I ain’t above makin’ a scene for my wife.”

“Maybe next week,” you say, breathlessly, and that causes him to lift his head from where it was resting in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah?” his grip tightens on your hips as he continues his relentless pace, a curl of his grey hair falling in his face and your fingers can’t help but bury themselves in the damp curls. Your hands move to cradle his face between your palms, your thumbs trace the sharp edges of his cheekbones and his jawline.

His eyes meet yours dark and intense, with his pupils blown wide. There’s something feral beneath the softness, something possessive that flickers hotter every time you gasp, every time you tighten around him.

“Yeah,” you whisper again, weaker this time, and your voice catches when he shifts his hips just slightly, hitting that spot inside you that makes you clench and cry out.

Soon enough you felt that white heat building at the base of your spine and low in your belly, that simmering heat that has you arching into him involuntarily.

Joel groans, leaning in until your foreheads touch. “You say that like I ain’t gonna spend the whole goddamn week thinkin’ about it. Thinkin’ about bendin’ you over every surface in that house while the kids are outta earshot.” His lips brush yours and it’s barely a kiss, more of a taunt.

You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair again, and he growls as he slams into you harder, gritting his teeth as your back arches.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “you’re squeezin’ me so tight, baby. Can feel you gettin’ close.”

You nod, unable to form words, mouth parted and panting, completely wrecked beneath him. He’s everywhere, inside you, over you, looking at you like he owns you. Like he’s going to keep doing this until the goddamn stars fall.

Your eyes roll back as he thrusts deep again, and this time it hits that spot, that devastating angle, and your whole body tightens.

“J-Joel…” you stutter, voice strangled and high, your legs beginning to tremble. “I… I can’t—”

“Yes, y’can,” he growls, hips pistoning now, relentless and so fucking deep. “Cum for me, baby… That’s it—my good girl, takin’ it like such a good fuckin’ girl.”

Your body breaks apart beneath him, a guttural moan ripping from your chest as the orgasm slams into you. It’s white-hot, full-body, and you go limp for a moment, spasming around him, legs twitching as your back arches into the air.

He watches it hit you, feels it in the clench of your body, the cry of his name from your lips, and he loses it.

“Fuck, baby…. fuck yes,” he pants, and then he’s gripping your hips tight enough to bruise again, holding you still as he pounds into you once, twice more, then buries himself deep and continues gently rocking his hips into yours, chest pressing you into the mattress as he spills inside you with a deep, broken groan into your shoulder. With a few more thrusts of his hips to really fuck his cum as deep as it will go, you feel the throb of his cock inside you as he empties himself.

His weight crushes you in the best way, heat rolling off his skin.

Finally, after a moment, he pushes himself up on his forearms again, studying your face as he slowly slips out of you.

You whimper at the loss of him, and he lets out a quiet hiss as his softening cock loses its warm sheath of pure bliss.

“So beautiful, darlin’.” He leans back, his big hands swallowing your frame as he massages the muscles of your hips and upper thighs, “My fuckin wife.”

You blush under his gaze as if he wasn’t just emptying his balls inside of you, as if this moment wasn’t something people usually got used to. Every time was like the first time with him, his heat simmered just as hot as that day he kissed you for the very first time.

Your hands find the hair on his firm chest, the sensation was one of your favorites, and you know you can’t keep saying that because everything about him was one of your very favorite things in the whole world.

His eyes met yours again, the deep brown settling from its darkened state, softening at the edges as he looks at you.

“I love you,” his hands come up to cradle your face, rough palms and calloused thumbs brushing across your flushed cheeks with featherlight care. You melt beneath him, aching and full and blissfully undone.

“I love you too,” you knew that with every fiber of your being you loved this man. From his morning coffee breath and the way he leaves socks on the floor, to the way he holds you and your little ones, to the way he loves with everything he is and holds nothing back. And for a million things about the man you’re lucky enough to call yours.

He hovers there for just a second longer, then leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead first, then your nose, one kiss on each cheek. And finally… finally… he presses his lips to yours again.

It starts soft, the kind of kiss that feels like coming home. His mouth moves against yours with a hum of satisfaction, deep and lazy, the kind of kiss you feel all the way down to your toes. Your lips part for him automatically, and when his tongue slides against yours, it’s slower this time, like you’re both savoring the taste of each other.

You sigh into it, one of your hands sliding up the back of his neck, your fingers curling into the damp, soft hair at his nape. His body stays pressed to yours, chest to chest, skin to skin. You can feel the stickiness between your legs and the feel of his spend spilling back out.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss for just a moment, drinking in every small sound you make. His nose brushes yours, and he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again.

“I’ll never get enough of ya,” he breathes, barely more than a rasp of air against your lips.

You run your hands over his back, feeling every dip and line of him, mapping him with your fingertips as if you hadn’t already memorized every inch of him, your hands find his strong shoulders and trail your fingers up his neck and to the back of his head again, “I’m having your baby again, Joel.” As if you needed to remind yourself of the very real reality that neither of you could stop thinking about.

Joel lets out this soft, broken sound… half laugh of disbelief, half sigh… and presses another kiss to your lips, slower this time. Like he’s trying to write his love into you with nothing but his mouth and his hands and the way he keeps holding you like you’re something sacred.

His fingers trace the side of your neck, then down over your shoulder, slipping lazily along your ribs like he wants to touch every inch of you all over again.

Somehow, eventually, you both find the willpower to move.

Joel helps you up with steady hands, his touch still slow and lingering, like he hates letting you go even for a second. You’re both laughing softly, half-drunk on love and endorphins as you stumble your way to the bathroom.

The water runs hot and full, steam curling in the air as he sinks down behind you in the tub, pulling you between his legs like you belong there, because you do. His arms drape across your waist, his chest warm against your back, and you lean into him.

He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, then another, then another, lips trailing wet warmth across your skin as you hum in contentment.

You close your eyes as he pours warm water over your shoulders, his hands massaging your skin with gentle, soapy circles. Every now and then, he sneaks kisses on your neck, your temple, behind your ear.

You stay there like that for a while, tangled in heat and soft laughter, letting the water rinse away the sweat and the ache, but never the closeness.

When you finally climb out, toweling off and slipping into something comfortable, Joel’s pulling on a clean pair of boxers and getting the bed ready for the two of you to climb into.

“Gotta say it, I miss our munchkins,” you say softly as you climb beneath the sheets.

“Me too, darlin’. I’ll go get them first thing, okay?”

You nod your head sleepily, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as his arm wraps around you and pulls you in closer, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your arm. You hum softly against his skin, letting yourself melt into the weight and heat of him. His scent. soap and sweat and Joel, fills your nose and surrounds you in a blissful haze of him, grounding you in a way nothing else ever could.

“Think they’re drivin’ Tommy and your dad crazy yet?” you murmur, smiling against his neck.

Joel chuckles, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “Oh, no doubt. Bet they’re running the whole show.”

You grin sleepily at that, your fingers tracing lazy shapes over his chest. “They’re good kids.”

“Yeah they sure are, darlin’,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You and I make good kids. Can’t wait to see what this one becomes.” His hand slides protectively over your lower belly and you can’t help but sniffle and fight back a tear starting to form in your eye. Not from sadness, no, from the surreality that you get to have another little him growing inside of you. Knowing he’ll be there, right next to you through everything. Once again, you were reminded how damn lucky the two of you were to have found this love and to feel it so fully and so completely.

He pulls you closer and leaves a lingering kiss on your temple, his fingers trailing gently over the soft skin of your stomach.

For a while, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the fan in the corner and the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

“First thing in the morning,” he says again, his voice already fading into that low, sleepy timbre. “Gonna go pick ‘em up… bring our babies home.”

You smile against him, already half-asleep yourself. “Can’t wait.”

Joel tightens his arm around you, holding you close, and you both drift off like that, wrapped up in each other, warm and safe and full of everything you’ve built together.

Tomorrow would be noisy and sticky and full of little feet and laughter, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

The morning sun filters in slow and golden, the birds chirp outside, the same ones who greeted you and your family every morning.

Joel stirs first, he always does, his arms tightening around you like instinct before he even opens his eyes. You hum at the feeling, half-asleep, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

For a while, neither of you says anything. Just slow breathing, tangled legs, and the kind of heavy, warm stillness that only comes after loving someone so thoroughly they’re written into your muscles.

“Think it’s late enough to go get ‘em?” he finally murmurs, voice still thick with sleep, lips brushing your hairline.

You smile against his neck. “It’s barely seven.”

“Still late,” he says, stretching slow, muscles rippling under your cheek. “Feels like I been missin’ ‘em for days.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at him. “Didn’t you say you wanted just one quiet morning for once?”

Joel grins, eyes still sleepy and soft. “Yeah… and I got it. Now I want my kids back.”

You lean up to kiss him, slow and sweet and full of that same aching affection that’s been burning in both of you since you met.

Twenty minutes later, you’re both dressed—Joel in jeans and one of his old, soft t-shirts, you in a loose sweater and leggings, hair still a little damp from your quick rinse in the bathroom.

The drive to Tommy and their dad’s place is full of soft country radio and Joel’s hand rests on your thigh the whole way there.

When you pull into the gravel drive, you can already hear faint giggles through the screen door.

Joel’s barely out of the truck before Tommy’s opening the front door, standing on the porch with his coffee in hand and a grin way too wide for this early in the morning.

“Well look who’s here,” Tommy calls, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes flick between you and Joel, lingering just long enough to let the meaning settle, “have a good Friday night, kids?”

Joel shoots him a warning glare, but there’s no heat behind it, “Knock it off.”

Tommy just smirks. “Hey, I’m not sayin’ nothin’. Just sayin’ you’re lookin’ about ten years younger this morning, big brother.”

You snort, trying to cover your laugh with a cough, and Joel immediately reaches behind him to swat your hip, muttering, “Traitor.”

Before you can retaliate, there’s a loud shriek from inside, “Daddy!!!” and then all three of your kids come barreling out the door, socks sliding on the wood floors, feet pounding the porch as they rush straight for Joel.

He barely has time to kneel before they’re on him. Sarah clinging to his neck, Artie talking a mile a minute, Ellie squealing and trying to crawl up onto his lap.

And god… the way Joel holds them, the way he laughs low and bright like they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, because you know they are to him… you swear your heart could burst.

You watch from the steps, smiling soft and full, and when his eyes find yours over their heads, warm and tired and still so full of love, you swear you fall for him all over again.

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

I couldn’t stop myself, I’ve got some angst to write! I gotta balance myself out 😭

The baby fever is going crazy though thank god for my IUD or else i’d be making terrible decisions🙏🏼 that’s all I gotta say.

[twilightsumu]

for our eyes only?

connection: r. sukuna x fem!reader

synopsis: your only fans is thriving, especially when your boyfriend films himself filling you up.

content warning: modern au, non curse au, nsfw, mdni, smut, only fans (might have gotten somethings incorrect), established relationship between reader and sukuna, rough sex, hair pulling, biting, spitting, oral (fem receiving), smacking, dirty talk, crude language, name calling (slut, whore), p in v, unprotected, creampie, cum play, consensual recording.

(1) notification: this was actually supposed to be gojo’s one shot! while editing, i felt like sukuna was more suited. i could not be happier with it!

wc: 2.8K (finally learned to stfu!)

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“What’s winning at the moment?” 

“Anal.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Sitting on the couch in front of you, your pink haired boyfriend (slash manager — he sees red when you leave that out) responds with a gruff. One of those scoffs he pretends is a laugh. 

His crimson colored eyes locked on the laptop on his thick thighs. Shirtless — the hazy light coming from the kitchen behind you gleaming on his tattoos. His grey sweats hanging loosely on his hips. A lazy dominance weighing heavy in the stilled room. 

“Just fucking with you,” he drawls out, finally lifting his eyes to look at you. “It’s actually creampie and cum play.” 

You circle the coffee table to stand in front of him, your knee brushing his as you lightly lean into him. Your hands planting themselves on his shoulders. His huge hand not hovering over the small mousepad, instantly grabbing your waist. The hold is rough and tense, just like him. 

“I could do with that.” You smile down at him. He rolls his eyes, his thumb tapping on the mouse pad to keep the screen lit. 

“What if I rig it?” He asks almost innocently. But, nothing about Sukuna is innocent. You could only squeeze his shoulder and let out a breathy laugh. 

“Why the hell do you want to do it in my ass so badly?” 

“I fucked every other hole. Might as well finish the set.” 

“You haven’t fucked my ear,” you snort.  

“Can you shut the fuck up?” His hand on your waist is now rubbing down his tired face. You press your lips together to keep your laughter at bay. 

“Cosplaying and a foot job are also options. We have three minutes till the poll is up and creampie and cum play is at,” he stops and looks back at the laptop. “Sixty eight percent.” He deadpans. 

You tilt your head as you look down at him. His lips in its usual snarl, his eyes narrowed at the screen. You could almost hear him counting down the seconds. 

“You don’t wanna cum in me or something?” 

“I always do,” he shrugs, your hand shifting along with his shoulders. “But, you built this little dystopian world where men choose where I cum.” 

“They do pay our bills.” One of your hands creep up the nape of his thick neck. Your fingers slightly running along his undercut. He slightly leans in, his head pushing into your hand. You have to bite your lip to force your comment about affection down. 

He looks up at you, his hand coming up to shut the laptop. Boredom evident in his stare. 

“And ask you to role play as a tree,” he nudges your hip, making you step back as he stands up from the couch. Your arms falling to your sides. “So maybe we shouldn’t fucking trust them with our financial endeavors.” 

“So you won’t fuck me if I was a tree?” You hum as you shiver at the feel of heat coming off of his chest. 

“If this is another if I was a worm question, I’m  going to fucking lose it.” You hear the dry chuckle that wants to escape.

“What if I was a real sexy willow tree or something?” 

“And what would my cum be?” He stares at you. His nose scrunches, eyebrows pulling together, as if he’s really thinking this through. “Fertilizer?” 

“Well, technically… yes.” His lips curl, and you can’t help but throw your head back from laughter. One of your hands reaching to grab onto his solid chest. 

You barely have time to yelp before you’re hoisted  like you weigh nothing. Your chest pressed to his back, view upside down, his hand coming down hard on your ass. A smack full of irritation and affection, typical. 

“I’m choosing what we’re filming next. And no god damn tree shit.”

Sukuna’s rough hand is sliding up your spine, palm flat and warm until it finds the back of your neck. You’re on all fours — your knees pushing into the bedding below you, your palms laid flat on either side of you. 

“Stay just like that,” he mutters — his grip is firm, familiar, and heavy with intention. 

From the corner of your eye, the red light blinks steady on the camera. This was supposed to be for work, content. Bills do not pay themselves. But, the second his breath fans against the back of your thighs, and the cool air brushes your wet cunt everytime he shifts — any idea of perfect angles for the viewers is thrown out the fucking window. 

You don’t have time to even mention anything about it. 

Just his mouth, wet and unrelenting meeting your pussy. His tongue drags through your folds, like he too forgot about the camera. 

You gasp, spine arching on instinct. Your hips pushing back, his mouth opening accepting more. His grip on your neck tightens. You’re not sure if it’s to ground you or acting as a warning. 

The flat of his tongue presses hard, dragging along your folds, meeting your clit. Instantly, he’s groaning, low and hungry — the sound vibrating straight through to your core. 

“Shit,” you breathe out. Your arms are starting to feel weak as you struggle to hold yourself up. 

With nothing more than a grunt, his tongue laps at your clenching hole. His hand starts trail down from your neck, roughy fingertips navigating your spine until it’s on your plush ass. He squeezes once, a rough one that makes you yelp as you try to look over your shoulder. Then he lifts it and brings it back down with a sharp slap you sure the camera picked up on. 

You jolt, a moan ripping through your chest. You’re sure you feel him grin. 

Another slap. And instead of pulling away, you’re pushing back into his mouth. Your ass throbbing under his palm. 

You feel your pussy getting wetter — the heat warming between your thighs. He grunts against you when he feels the gush of slick, his tongue flicking faster, meaner. His nose nudging your hole as he devours you. 

All you could do is try to hold yourself up on wobbly arms, helplessly moan, and throw looks at the camera. You know, for content. 

You feel him pull back and you let out a whimper. Your chin drops to your chest as you let out a gasp. 

“Such a pretty pussy for a fucking whore,” he rasps, his voice low and wrecked. Cocky. “Can’t believe I let other men watch me devour it.” 

You shiver, words stuck on your tongue. A weak mewl is the only thing you could pull out your throat. 

He chuckles, that low, dry one. The one he knows gets you dripping. His hands are still on your ass — now spreading you apart. You could picture his hungry eyes looking you over. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know his tongue is licking over his bottom lip. 

You push back a bit, missing his mouth on you. You feel his face inch closer and before his tongue meets your wet heat — he spits directly onto your cunt. The slick sound of it makes your stomach tighten and nipples harden.

You gasp — hot and loud. And before you could even think, he’s diving back in. Tongue hot, his finger gripping onto your hips. 

All you could hear is your strangled moans, Sukuna’s slurping, and the shakiness of your arms under you. 

His hands spread your wider, wet sound following as he pulls away. 

“Shit, look at you,” he mutters, voice all gravel. Your nipples harden at the tone. “You want me to fuck you like this?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. You turn your head, looking over your shoulder. You’re met with Sukuna’s shit-eating grin, his eyebrows cocked up teasingly. His hands squeeze your ass rougher. 

“Louder. You know they love to hear you begging.” He teases, his voice low. He cocks a thumb towards the camera. Your eyes catch the light again. 

“Do they or is it you?” You start to shift, arms falling below you. You want to tease some more, watch the tick in his jaw as you joke around. 

Slap!

He has you by the hips, your left ass cheek stinging. He’s dragging you back until your thighs are flushed against his. His cock pressing into your thigh. Thick, hard, and unforgiving — you push back 

Your arms are trembling, barely keeping you upright. You’re smiling, giving the camera exactly what it wants. Sukuna would have fun with editing. 

He chuckles — low and heady. A sharp squeeze to your hips, and then the head of this thick cock pressing in your wet entrance. 

You suck in a breath so hard, it burns your chest. Your back arches — ass pushing back involuntary, moving so that you could have him touch exactly where you need him too. You moan, your head dropping forward as your arms barely keep you up. 

“You’re a smartass you know?” Sukuna groans, dragging his hips back slowly. You feel every movement — the twitch in his right thigh, his fingers tapping on your hip, your pussy clinging to his hard cock. “With a cunt that takes me so well.” 

Without warning — he slams back in, bottoming out. The sound of skin slapping harshly snaps through the room. He doesn’t even let you adjust. A brutal pace as his hips meet your ass. 

Your hands are gripping the sheets, trying to keep steady. The sounds of your squelching pussy meeting his cock from each thrust competing with your moans. 

One thrust is so forceful, his tip meeting your cervix — your body jolts forward. Your arms give out on you as your chest meets the bed. 

“Let them see your face,” your back arching as he yanks you by your hair. “Show them who you’re a slut for.”

Teary eyed, mouth agape, your arms shakily holding you up again, drool starting to pool down your chin as he ruts in you deeper. He’s bullying your gummy walls with every rough thrust, the tip of his cock keeps catching that soft, spongey spot inside you. 

The hand not in your hair snakes around your throat. Not yet choking. His fingertips slightly pressing in, reminding you of what he could do. 

You have a comment on the tip of your tongue. You think you do. But his hips driving into yours steals the air from your lungs. And now, you could really only focus on your thighs shaking, your arms completely giving out. You collapse into the sheets, drool soaking the fabric along with your slick between your legs. 

He leans over you, chest brushing your back, his breath heavy as it hits the top of your spine. You feel just how deep he’s in you in this position. You feel his lips leave the lightest kiss on your shoulder blade, your head turning to the side to meet his eyes. Then, he bites into the curve of your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. His hips don’t slow for a second — just keep grinding, brutal and deep.

“Cum in me,” you’re babbling. Moans and desperate mewls as you struggle to keep up with his brutal pace. Your hips barely backing into his before he’s thrusting harshly into your pussy. 

“No shit,” he huffs, his breath still fanning where he just bit you. “Creampie did win. I’m fair.”

His thrusts get sloppier, his heavy ballsack hitting your clit as he continues to fuck into you. His hips are still snapping into yours, but more desperate . Less control, like he’s chasing your high and his. 

He lowly groans your name in your ear. His teeth grazing your ear lobe. 

Then it hits. The room gets all white, Sukuna feels heavier on top of your back. One final thrust that causes a sharp cry out of you and a rough groan from him. You feel him bottom out, his thick cock pulsing inside of you. You feel the warmth as he spills in you, filling you so full, your stomach flutters.

“Fuck,” he grits out. The hand still on your throat slightly squeezing, the other one gripping your hip. Like he’s grounding himself to your limp body on your shared bed. 

You’re both panting, so you don’t register him pulling out until you feel the slow, thick slide of cum leaking from your pussy. A gush of warmth trailing down your thighs. An airy whimper leaving your lips. 

“Turn over,” he mutters, his strong hands already guiding you. 

You whimper, your thighs shaky and soaked. You blink up at him as he ‘softly’ manhandles you, your back meeting the bed with a plop. His eyes are determined. He gets like this whenever he thinks of another shot. 

He reaches back for the camera. His free hand grabbing your thigh as he starts to inch down on the bed. His chest guiding along your body.

Your thighs press together, sticky with his cum and your slick. Twitches and trembles rack your legs, his hand still on your thigh, gripping. You’re a mess, you don’t even have to watch the video back to know that. 

With his face, once again, mere inches away from your pussy. He angles the camera to get the perfect shot of your wrecked pussy. His hand roughly shoving your thigh open, hooking it over his shoulder.

No warning, you feel his fingers. Two of them — his index and middle finger roughing sliding through your folds. No easing them in, just his cum and slick being fucked back into you. 

You watch as his hand not pumping into your pussy grabs the camera so he could move it closer. He shows the camera how perfectly you stretch around him, fingers pumping slow. 

You drop from your elbows, your eyes shutting. A moan escaping your dry lips. The squelching of your pussy is loud and obscene. 

“A whore filled to the brim.” He mutters, his voice low and mean. “You love me stuffing you, huh?” 

You nod, barely thinking, barely hearing him honestly. 

Then, when you’re sure you’re about to cum for the second time. His fingers slip out, a wet noise following their escape. You lift your head — watching him eye his fingers that are covered in his cum and your slick. He moves the camera along to show his fingers. 

His eyes on yours, he brings his fingers to his mouth. His tongue swirling over his fingers. Like he’s licking his favorite ice cream flavor off the spoon. 

He moves up the bed, his movements slow and haunting. His body hovering over yours. The fingers that were just in your cunt are harshly tapping your chin. 

You open your mouth — tongue out, needy, eyes locked on his. 

He smirks, letting everything be lapped up, fall. 

He spits it straight into your mouth — a warm mix of his thick release and your own slick. He watches it pool on your tongue before you swallow, moaning around it. Your eyes never leave the other — even with the camera acting as a barrier between you. 

“Fuck,” he smirks. His voice caught somewhere between wrecked and proud. The camera dropping out of his hands as he leans towards you. “Maybe they made the right decision.” 

One of his hands grabs onto your chin, pulling your face to his. His lips are instantly locking with yours. The kiss is all tongue and teeth, messy and claiming. His teeth nipping into your bottom lip as his other hands grips into your hair, pushing you even closer. 

He pulls away, both of you breathing heavy. Your spit on his lips and his on yours. You don’t miss the way his shit eating grin has became that soft smile he reserved for you. 

“You good baby?” He hums against your lips. You can’t help but smile.

“Mhm,” you hum, your forehead meeting his heaving chest. 

One hand still cradling your face, the other tangled in your hair. You have to remind yourself to get this clip before he edits the video. Just for you. So you could go back to it whenever you want. 

You shift your head so that your eyes could meet his hazed ones. 

“We could do anal next time,” you whisper. His eyebrows shoot up in anticipation. You fight the giggle wanting to escape. “Under one condition.”

“It’s not going to be normal,” he rolls his eyes. His sigh is long and heavy. You can’t help but laugh. Your hand running along his rib cage. 

“I’ll be a sexy tree. Like a super sexy Ginkgo tree.” 

“For fucks sake.” 

Poll Winner!

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Comments:

blueyedemon 😈: I would suck him off just to get a hint of a taste of her 

yn: pass 

maskedfreak: kinda mad she didn’t go tree 

yn : watch National Geographic or something weird fuck

guruonmyknob: ngl I know I could fuck her better

yn: 35.7274457, 139.7337452 

guruonmyknob: ?

guruonmyknob: wait??? 

“Sukuna, did you seriously just reply with someone’s geographical coordinates?” 

skipped the fluff (for now) and went to smut… it’s your turn! @edensrose

© twilightsumu. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or plagiarise my work.

[nekonaps0]

Mixed text pt1

✦part2

✦fem!reader

✦characters: third years

✦You meant to send your very spicy little message to your boyfriend. But you didn’t just text him. You accidentally dropped it into the dorm group chat…

Trey Clover

Your text:

“If I sit on your lap again tonight, are you going to finally do something about it, or just pretend to focus on baking?”

Group chat chaos:

Cater: “OKAYYY HELLOOOO?!? 💀💦”

Riddle: “YOU DID WHAT IN THE KITCHEN?!?!”

Ace: “Didn’t need to know this. Deleting my eyes.”

Deuce: “…”

Trey was in the middle of slicing strawberries when the notification hit. He froze. Knife still in hand. His entire soul left his body as his glasses fogged.

“...She didn’t…”

Poor man’s face went cherry red. He immediately DM’d you:

“You sent that to the dorm group chat… sweetheart.”


“Riddle’s having a breakdown.”


“Ace threatened to move out.”

When he finally sees you, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re lucky I like you so much… but if you’re going to make me this flustered, at least do it privately next time.”

He’s a blushing mess—but the next time you sit on his lap? He’s not pretending anymore.

Cater Diamond

Your text:

“Thinking about you pulling my hair last night… Maybe tonight I’ll return the favor ”

Group chat chaos:

Trey: “Cater...”

Riddle: “I’m blocking both of you.”

Ace: “I need to bleach my brain.”

Deuce: “I dont get it and I don’t think I wanna…”

Cater read the message and screamed. Like, full-on squawked in his dorm room and nearly threw his phone.

“YO everyone ignore that! She’s just passionate okay?? LMAO delete this from your memories pls~”

Then he slid into your DMs with:

“Babe. You’re killing me here. But also 👀 I’m free at 9…”

Leona Kingscholar

Your text:

“If I tell you I’m not wearing anything under my robe, are you going to come deal with it or keep pretending to nap?”

Group chat chaos:

Ruggie: “WHAT THE HELL BRO 💀💀💀”

Jack: “This chat is NOT safe for minors.”

Leona blinked at the screen once. Twice.

Then groaned, rolled over, and muttered:

“...Stupid herbivore. You just had to hit ‘everyone.’”

He ignored the chaos in the chat completely. The only message he sent was directly to you:

“You’re gonna pay for that. In private. Tonight.”

Later, he showed up at your room, lazily shutting the door behind him.

“You wanna wear nothin’ under your robe? Fine. But now I ain’t letting you leave until you regret sending that to the whole dorm.”

(You are cooked..)

Vil Schoenheit

Your text:

“I’ve been thinking about your hands on my neck all day. Should I wear something pretty tonight? I would let you take it off after”

Group chat chaos:

Epel: “OH MY GREAT SEVENS I DIDNT WANT TO KNOW THAT”

Rook: “Quel passion! Quelle audace! I am weeping!!”

Vil was doing his skincare routine when the notification came in. He read the message. Then dropped his serum bottle.

“...Darling.”

He slowly opened the chat to assess the damage—sighing deeply.

He messaged you with:

“You just turned our entire dorm into a gossip magazine headline.”

“You’ll have to do a lot more than wear something pretty to make up for this little incident.”

But later that night, when he walks in and the door locked? You know exactly how seriously he took it.

Rook Hunt

Your text:

“Do you think anyone would hear if you made me cry your name tonight?”

Group chat chaos:

Vil: “Rook. Handle this.”

Epel: “I’m GONNA PUKE.”

Rook (immediately replying): “Ma chérie, even the wind heard your words~ 💘”

Rook doesn’t panic. He’s delighted. He DMs you in under five seconds:

“Your boldness, your artful seduction—I am in awe! Shall I prepare my chamber for your tears and whispered gasps tonight?”

Later, he pulls you aside with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“If you wished for an audience, mon trésor, all you had to do was ask~”

(You stop sending spicy texts for a month after that.)

Idia Shroud

Your text:

“If I was kneeling under your desk right now, would you keep playing your game or make me earn your attention?”

Group chat chaos:

Ortho: “Um… I think that’s the wrong chat…”

Random Ignihyde student: “I’m logging off forever.”

Idia's soul left his body immediately.

He dropped his phone. His entire room was lit up with ERROR windows. The AI screens around him buzzed with red alerts. He curled into a fetal position and wheezed:

“They’re gonna exile me.”

He didn’t even open the chat. He just messaged you:

“W-WHAT LEVEL OF CHAOS GREMLIN ARE YOU—DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?!?!”

After he calmed down (3 hours later minimum), he quietly messaged:

“...I haven’t stopped thinking about it, btw.”

You walked fast as you can so you can make it up for him!!

Malleus Draconia

Your text:

“If you come to my room tonight, I promise to be good… I mean… at least in bed.”

Group chat chaos:

Sebek: “BLASPHEMY!! DISGRACE!!”

Silver: “...Pretending I didn’t see that.”

Lilia: “Ohoho~ my boy is all grown up~”

Malleus… doesn’t get embarrassed. Not outwardly. He read your message. Saw Sebek’s meltdown. Then calmly turned off his phone.

Later, he teleported directly to your room.

“You wished to be ‘good,’ did you?”

There was a smirk on his face. A low hum in his chest. And glowing green eyes promising divine punishment.

You deleted that message from the chat… but Diasomnia never forgot.

Lilia Vanrouge

Your text:

“Next time, sit me on your lap like you did last night—just don’t stop halfway this time, old man”

Group chat chaos:

Sebek: “I AM GOING TO END MY LIFE.”

Silver: “I don’t want to know.”

Malleus: “...interesting...”

Lilia didn’t even blink. He cackled so hard, he fell off his bed.

“Fufufu~ Oh, you naughty little thing~”

He replied to the group chat himself:

“She speaks the truth, my dears. And I fully intend to finish what I started~”

You screamed into a pillow.

Later, he winked at you and whispered:

“If you wanted the whole dorm to know how naughty you are, you could’ve just said so~”

Please stop him…

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

Look at me✨ feeding the whores ✨💜 (and I love doing it 😌)

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Anniversary gift

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Suggestiveeeee, lots of fluff and simp men, 🧶 anon i used all your ideas :p let’s hope i did it justice, let’s not question who took the photos for reader lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You give them a book of very spicy photos for your anniversary

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He’s seated cross-legged in the sun-drenched studio of your estate, purple hair tousled, shirt entirely unbuttoned. Blue-pink eyes are completely locked on the glossy little album you gave him.

He was quiet for a while.

Too quiet.

Then he flipped the page and let out a sound that could only be described as an emotionally-compromised whimper.

“Pearlie… what are you trying to do to me…”

Another page flip.

“You’re actually unreal, baby. This isn’t fair. I’m gonna have to fight a god for this level of beauty. I’ll duel the moon. I’ll—”

He presses the album flat on his chest and throws himself backward on the floor, groaning, curling around it like it’s sacred.

The first photo, you, in a cherry-red bikini, towel wrapped low on your hips, the string of your top cheekily untied and draped over one shoulder, hair tousled from ocean spray. There’s glittering salt on your collarbone. The light hits your skin so perfectly it looks airbrushed.

“This is art. You are art.”

“You knew what you were doing… you minx.”

The second photo, you in your bridal veil, no clothes but a sheer white cloth draped carefully around your chest and thighs, pearls in your hair, eyes all soft and sleepy. There’s a vintage hand mirror in your hand. It was his.

He gets emotional.

“My wife. My muse. My everything. You expect me to function after seeing this?”

The third photo, the tasteful nude. Just your bare back, wrapped in white fabric from the waist down, lounging against the satin sheets he brought back from the North Territory. Your hair’s loose. There’s a fresh bouquet behind you.

“You have one hour to explain why I can’t paint this right now.”

“Actually, No, I’m starting now. I need my brushes. Baby, I’ll cry if you don’t let me immortalize this.”

Rafayel becomes insatiable. He needs a new photo every week. No, every four days.

He makes a whole cabinet drawer in his art room just for them, lovingly labeled “The Pearlie Archive.”

He carries his favourite polaroid in his coat pocket.

If he has to go to a meeting, and someone annoys him too much? He’ll look it mid-conversation just to soothe himself.

Eventually, he even makes a rotating sculpture series based on the photos, each titled something stupid like “Wife in Moonlight No.3 (She Looked At Me After This One and I Died).”

And of course, every time you hand him a new photo with that bashful little smile?

He groans, presses his face into your neck, and says—

“You’re evil. A beautiful, perfect little devil, pearlie.”

“I’m gonna spend the next 17 hours painting your elbow.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The two of you return to your estate after a private anniversary dinner at Linkon’s most exclusive restaurant. He’s been looking at you all evening like you’re the only woman on earth, because to Zayne, you are.

You’re dressed in something elegant and white, your hair done exactly how he loves it, diamond earrings glinting when you lean in to murmur sweet things during dessert. He kissed your hand at the table. He fed you the last bite of your souffle. He looked genuinely weak when you smiled.

Now, back home, you lead him by the hand into the cozy sitting room, your heels already kicked off, makeup still perfect, and you sit him down on the plush velvet armchair. You pull out a small, gift-wrapped item from behind the bar cart. It’s square, not too thick, tied in a delicate ribbon.

He eyes it suspiciously, lips quirking slightly.

“Another gift, sweetheart?” he murmurs, hazel-green eyes sparkling. “Wasn’t dinner and your company more than enough?”

You smile innocently, cheeks warm.

“This one’s just for you. A private gift. Promise you won’t open it until I say so?”

He raises a brow. He’s intrigued.

“You’re starting to worry me, snowflake.”

Still, he obliges, sitting obediently with the album in his lap while you go behind him, slipping your arms over his shoulders.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Now.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens the first page.

And stops breathing.

⸻

First photo, you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly pastel apron over one of his old dress shirts… buttoned only halfway. The hem flutters just below your thighs, leaving your legs completely bare. Your hands are flour-dusted, cheeks pink, and there’s whipped cream on your nose.

You’re bending slightly over the counter, sliding a tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven with the most mischievous smile.

“Sweetheart… what… what is this…”

He flips the page.

Second photo, you licking icing off your finger, eyes wide and innocent, the bow of the apron tied low on your back, the skirt very short. Zayne’s name is scrawled in icing of the cake on the countertop beside you, surrounded by pink sugar hearts.

Third photo, you, from behind, balancing on your tiptoes to reach for a spice jar. The dress has ridden up. There’s no mistaking what’s not underneath. The caption under it reads in your handwriting:

“oops. no panties today, chef~”

He’s silent.

Dead silent.

His jaw’s locked. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, ears turning red.

You lean close to whisper innocently, “Do you like it?”

And Zayne, your brilliant, stoic, always composed husband, finally breathes out—

“I’m going to have a stroke.”

⸻

The album now lives in his locked desk drawer, where no one else will ever find it. Not even if the house were on fire.

But more importantly, you find yourself pinned between the kitchen counter and your blushing husband not even twenty minutes later, his tie long gone, your apron hanging off your shoulders,

“Was this all a plan, darling?”

“Did you intend to drive me mad tonight?”

He kisses you breathless, his hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding beneath the fabric with reverent slowness.

“Next year,” he murmurs, voice low and hot, “I want one in a nurse uniform. And the year after that? Surprise me.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The evening had been perfect in that quiet, Xavier-esque way.

A soft dinner at home, lights dim, stars glittering through the penthouse windows. The table set with care, he’d even lit candles, though he tried to pretend he hadn’t planned that far ahead.

You’d cooked, and he sat beside you the whole time, sipping wine, brushing his fingers against yours between each course, looking like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words.

He never needed them anyway.

Not with how he looked at you.

“You’re… beautiful, starlight,” he murmured as you curled into his lap on the sofa after dinner, blanket half-draped over your legs. “You always are. But tonight… I’m starting to believe you really were made to haunt me.”

You giggled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and handed him a small, ribboned album from behind the couch cushion.

“Happy anniversary, Xavier. I wanted to give you something personal.”

He blinked, confused.

Took it delicately, like it was a sacred relic.

“A… book?”

“…Wait.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens to the first page.

And that’s when the nosebleed hits.

⸻

First photo, you in a sheer, pale lilac negligee that hugs your body like mist. Your thighs peek through delicate lace. The neckline drips low enough to give a suggestion of cleavage, hidden by a loosely tied robe. You’re sitting in his reading chair. One hand rests lightly on your collarbone. Your expression is soft. Sleepy. Dangerous.

Blood hits the page.

“X-Xavier?!”

“You’re bleeding!”

He slaps a hand over his nose, face completely red, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Starlight what did you do.”

“You can’t—you can’t just give me this!”

⸻

Second photo, the robe is slipping off your shoulder now, revealing more of your bare skin, your stocking-clad thighs folded neatly beneath you as you recline on your side like a classic painting. The caption is handwritten:

“I imagined you’d like this one. I was thinking of you when I posed.”

Xavier collapses backward. Still holding the album upright like it’s the last thing tethering him to earth. He’s trying not to breathe too hard. His nose is still bleeding, too frozen to take the tissues you’re offering him.

“I’ve made contact with divinity,” he murmurs dramatically. “It’s her. She’s real. She’s my wife.”

⸻

Third photo, you, standing in front of the penthouse bedroom mirror. The robe is untied. Your back is to the camera, head turned over your shoulder. The light catches on your shoulder blades, your soft hips, the top of your thigh-highs.

Underneath it is another note:

“You can come find me now, if you want. The robe’s still on the floor.”

He gets up. So fast you hear the whoosh of air.

Absolutely frantic.

“Where is it. Where is the robe.”

You laugh, backing toward the bedroom.

He follows like a man possessed.

⸻

Later, after he’s finally calmed down and your poor bedsheets are a casualty of the nosebleed and the aftermath, he insists on making a velvet-lined case for the album.

He keeps it in a drawer near the bed.

Takes it out every few days just to sigh over it.

“You didn’t have to go so far,” he murmurs, tracing the page edges. “You could’ve given me a photo of you in sweatpants and I’d still cry.”

Then his voice drops to a whisper.

“But I am going to need another shoot… same robe… maybe no robe… just a suggestion.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’d just come home from a week-long seaside villa getaway where Sylus spared no expense, private chef, marble infinity pool, silk robes delivered every morning, a whole fleet of bodyguards paid to “look the other way” when his hands wandered too far under dinner tables.

He was glowing with pride the entire trip.

“I’m a dangerous man, kitty,” he’d murmur as you swam up to him in the ocean, sunglasses perched on his silver hair. “But I’d give it all up to keep you soft like this. Tucked away. Spoiled rotten. Never needing to lift a finger except to choose which bikini to wear.”

He returned home relaxed, sun-warm, glowing from power and pleasure.

That is, until you handed him the velvet envelope.

“A little souvenir,” you said coyly, settling into the penthouse lounge with a yawn. “From me to you.”

He opened the album.

He paused.

Then he tilted his head.

Slowly. Like a predator smelling blood.

“…Kitten.”

⸻

First photo, you reclined across red silk sheets, wearing a see-through black chiffon robe that slips completely off your shoulders, revealing glitter-dusted thighs, sultry makeup, and the barrel of one of his gold-plated pistols perched lazily on your hip. A diamond necklace is looped between your teeth like candy.

Your eyes are half-lidded. The wedding band sparkles under the camera flash.

“Is that my pistol?” he murmurs, voice strangled.

“Did you take that from the vault?”

Second photo, you’re in the passenger seat of one of his vintage sports cars, door open, one leg outside, the other tucked provocatively on the leather seat. Your silk stockings are barely rolled up. The seatbelt’s undone. The caption below reads:

“ready for a ride, baby?”

He flips the page and laughs.

A dangerous, breathless kind of laugh.

The kind that says you’re not getting out of bed for three days.

“This is evil.”

Third photo, you, laying sideways across the hood of the car, fully naked except for stilettos and a diamond anklet, one of his revolvers laid carefully across your bare stomach.

⸻

He flips back. Again.

And again.

Then he gets up. Walks directly to the foyer. Takes his wallet from the marble console.

Silently, carefully, slides his favorite photo, the red silk sheet one, into the inside flap.

“You are truly born to torture me.”

⸻

You spot him flipping through the album again later, standing shirtless by the balcony with a cigar in his mouth, laughing under his breath.

“I knew you were perfect, kitten,” he drawls. “But this, this is perversely delightful.”

He tosses the cigar into the ashtray. Stalks over to you, scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing.

“Give me another shoot. In my office next time. I want a shot of you splayed across the desk.”

He grins.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You had a second honeymoon at the tropical resort, It was perfect.

Private beach. Ocean-view suite. Room service for every meal because you “didn’t feel like leaving bed” and Caleb had no problem with that. He spent most of the week either kissing saltwater off your shoulders or carrying you around like his pretty little prize.

“You really gonna let me have you all to myself like this again, pips?”

“No comms. No Fleet. Just my pretty wife lookin’ like paradise.”

Now, back home, sun-kissed and still a little sand-dusted, you hand him a neatly wrapped album as you’re snuggled on the couch, legs over his lap, wearing his oversized academy flight jacket.

He’s already smiling like a golden retriever with a brand new bone.

But the moment he opens the album?

Full body combustion. (He didn’t blow up again, don’t worry)

⸻

First photo, you, provocatively leaning over his fighter jet, hips arched, wearing a custom, skimpy version of his old pilot jumpsuit. The front is unzipped nearly all the way down, teasing a scandalous glimpse of your favorite lacy bra underneath, his favorite color. His name tag is pinned to your chest.

You’re wearing his flight jacket over your shoulders.

Hair tousled. Lipstick smudged.

The note underneath says:

“Reporting for duty, Colonel.”

“BABY.”

He literally shouts. Slaps the photo against his chest. “How will i ever step foot into that jet again without thinking of you?!”

Second photo, you inside the cockpit, half-in, half-out, glancing over your shoulder, lips parted, legs bent, the jumpsuit riding way too high. Helmet beside you, glove between your teeth.

He clutches his chest. Falls back onto the couch. Groaning.

“That’s my cockpit,” he moans dramatically. “You’ve defiled military equipment, and I have never been prouder in my life.”

Third photo, domestic theme. You in a retro gingham dress, pearls and red lipstick, holding a woven basket full of apples. You’re on a ladder, picking fruit, skirt accidentally hitched way too high, revealing sweet white thigh-highs and the hem of lace panties. The sun flares behind you like a lens filter from heaven.

Underneath, in your own handwriting:

“Almost fell off the ladder. Hope it was worth it”

“Oh my GOD,” he whines, flipping back and forth between pages. “Every photo is my favorite. I need one a week. No, twice a week. Actually, start filming them too.”

He grabs your face, squishes your cheeks, eyes sparkling like he just won the universe.

“Next time you wear that jumpsuit, you’re not taking it off. I wanna peel it off myself.”

You tease, “So you liked it?”

He growls.

“Pips, If you weren’t already my wife, I’d marry you all over again for this. I’d drop to my knees right now. I’d burn the Fleet down to make sure i never have to leave your side.”

He tucks the album into his duffel bag. That bag goes everywhere.

He literally calls it his emotional support photo album.

If he’s gone on deployment, he’s flipping through it in the captain’s quarters, smiling like a lunatic.

“God, my wife’s such a bombshell.”

And yes, he starts commissioning a video next.

Wants voiceover. Wants to hear your giggles in the background. Wants you whispering “I miss you, Colonel” while lying on his jet wearing nothing but the flight jacket.

[layla25708]

Stray kids reaction when they see you and it’s love at first sight ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 스트레이 키즈 ՞

﹙ They fall in love with you at first sight ﹚ .ᐟ

OT8!스트레이 키즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ Fluff, Light Romance ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・3,430 ‎ ‎ ‎

This fanfiction is a work of fiction written by me for entertainment purposes only. I do not own or claim to own any characters or idols of the real-life individuals mentioned. All characters, events, and scenarios are entirely fictional and do not reflect the actual personalities, relationships, or actions of the people involved.

﹙ 𐙚 : BANG CHAN ﹚ .ᐟ 방찬

It was supposed to be a quick stop for coffee. He had five minutes before heading back to the studio, hoodie pulled over his head, earbuds in, trying not to be noticed.

The cafe was half-empty, soft lo-fi playing overhead. He stood in line, eyes scanning the chalkboard menu, when the door chimed behind him. He didn’t turn around — not until he heard a laugh. Not loud. Just soft. Unbothered. Real.

He turned instinctively, and that’s when he saw you.

Your hair was slightly windswept from outside, your cheeks rosy from the cold. You were laughing with the barista about something—he couldn’t even hear what—but it didn't matter. Because in that split second, the entire room dimmed and focused on you.

Is this… happening?

You hadn’t even noticed him yet.

“Sir?” the barista asked, snapping him back.

“Oh—uh, yeah. Just a flat white, please,” he muttered, eyes flicking back toward you.

You moved to the side, waiting for your drink, scrolling through your phone.

He debated. Don’t be creepy, Chris. Just say something.He stepped forward slowly.

You looked up as he stood next to you. “Hey,” he said, voice cautious but warm. “Sorry to bother you… but I just—wanted to say your laugh made my day.”

Your eyes lit up, a mix of surprise and amusement. “That’s… unexpectedly sweet. Thanks.”

“I’m Chan,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Y/N,” you replied.

The barista called your drinks at the same time.

It felt like fate.

﹙ 𐙚 : LEE KNOW ﹚ .ᐟ 리노

He hated grocery shopping. But the dorm was out of eggs, and the manager said if he ordered takeout one more time, she’d personally cancel his credit card.

It was late — 11:09 p.m. — and the convenience store’s fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly as he scanned the shelves. He was squatting to grab instant noodles when your cart accidentally bumped his back.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” you blurted.

He turned around quickly, ready to shrug it off — and froze.

You were wearing oversized glasses, hair tied up messily, hoodie too big for your frame. And you looked like a goddess.

Something inside his chest went boom.

You looked mortified. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you there.”

He blinked. “Yeah—yeah, I’m good. Uh… that’s a strong cart,” he joked lamely.

You giggled. “It’s my secret weapon. Especially when I’m fighting for the last pack of shrimp chips.”

He smiled. And then couldn’t stop.

You tilted your head. “Wait, do I know you? You look kind of familiar.”

“Nope. Definitely not famous,” he said way too quickly, grabbing a random snack and tossing it into his basket.

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

He panicked. “Do you, um, live around here?”

You nodded. “Just a few blocks away.”

“Cool,” he said, heart racing. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

You smiled. “Maybe you will, mysterious noodle guy.”

And just like that, he stood frozen in the snack aisle, grinning like an idiot.

﹙ 𐙚 : CHANGBIN ﹚ .ᐟ 창빈

The underground gym was nearly empty at 2:37 a.m. It was Changbin’s favorite time — no distractions, no small talk. Just beats in his ears and the burn of lifting.

He’d just finished a set when he noticed someone entering — which was already rare — but what caught him off guard was that you weren’t a regular.

You had headphones in, hoodie sleeves rolled up, hair tied back. You headed for the punching bag with focused determination. He watched you wrap your hands methodically, then launch into the cleanest combo he’d seen in a while.

Damn.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until you caught him in the mirror. You pulled your headphones down, arching a brow. “Something wrong?”

He stepped forward quickly, shaking his head. “No—no, sorry. You just… hit like a pro. Wasn’t expecting that.”

You grinned. “Thanks. It’s my favorite way to blow off steam.”

He nodded, trying to play it cool. “You new here?”

“Just moved to the city. Trying to find my midnight rhythm.”

He chuckled. “You’ll fit in here, then. I’m Binnie.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your glove-clad hand.

The touch was light, but it jolted straight through him.

He couldn’t help it. The next time he hit the weights, he sneaked glances in your direction, unable to stop the warmth blooming in his chest.

Something about you was magnetic.

And for the first time, the gym felt too quiet without your voice.

﹙ 𐙚 : HYUNJIN ﹚ .ᐟ 현진

He wasn’t supposed to be at the art gallery. The exhibit he wanted to see had ended the night before, but somehow, the wrong date saved his fate.

The soft echo of footsteps over marble floors was the only sound as he wandered, hands in his coat pockets, eyes sweeping over oil-painted canvases — when he noticed someone else standing alone in front of a piece he barely glanced at before.

You.

Hair down, bag dangling from your shoulder, you stood quietly, completely still, admiring a stormy landscape. There was something about your posture — the tilt of your head, the calmness in your expression — that struck him deeper than any brushstroke on the wall.

You turned your head just slightly, and his heart stuttered.

You noticed him watching and smiled softly, a little curious, not startled.

He walked closer. “That one’s your favorite?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “It feels… honest. Don’t you think?”

He looked at the painting again, and for the first time, he saw it. Really saw it.

“I do now,” he replied.

You chuckled, then held out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hyunjin,” he said, brushing your fingers gently.

Time slowed.

You didn’t move on for another ten minutes, and neither did he.

﹙ 𐙚 : HAN ﹚ .ᐟ 한

The bookstore was quieter than a whisper.

Han had slipped in to avoid the chaos of fans down the block, hiding behind rows of fantasy novels and coffee-scented air. He didn’t expect to run into anyone — until he knocked over a whole stack of books trying to grab a snack bar from the shelf near the register.

“Oh no,” you gasped, appearing out of nowhere. “That was a beautiful disaster.”

He turned, cheeks already burning. “I swear the shelf attacked me first.”

You crouched down beside him, laughing as you helped gather books. “Guess I’m not the only clumsy one.”

He stared at you for a moment, too long.

You glanced up. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just… you have the nicest voice,” he said before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

You blinked. “That’s a new one.”

“Sorry,” he stammered. “I meant… not just your voice. The laugh, too. And… your face. Okay, I’ll stop talking now.”

You smiled. “No, don’t. You’re funny.”

He coughed. “Han. I mean Jisung. I mean… both?”

“Y/N,” you said, extending a hand.

He shook it with his whole heart.

By the time you left the shop, you were exchanging podcast recommendations — and he had your name saved in his Notes app with a little heart beside it.

﹙ 𐙚 : FELIX ﹚ .ᐟ 필릭스

Felix loved sunsets.

So it wasn’t unusual that he ended up sitting on a bench by the Han River at 6:42 p.m., hoodie up, camera beside him, watching the sky burn gold and pink.

What was unusual was the girl who sat next to him without a word.

You didn’t look over — not at first. You just sighed, long and content, like someone who knew how to enjoy silence.

He turned slightly, curious. You were hugging your knees, a novel tucked under one arm, earbuds dangling around your neck.

“You always come here?” he asked softly.

You smiled, not startled. “Only when the world feels too loud.”

He nodded. “Me too.”

You looked over, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Your gaze was open, kind. His heart stuttered painfully.

“I’m Felix,” he added shyly.

“Y/N.”

“I like your energy.”

You tilted your head. “Is that your way of saying I don’t talk too much?”

He laughed. “A little. But mostly… you feel like peace.”

Your eyes softened.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, he offered to walk with you to the train.

You said yes.

﹙ 𐙚 : SEUNGMIN ﹚ .ᐟ 승민

He didn’t expect to meet anyone at a dog park — especially not without bringing a dog.

It was 9:56 a.m., and Seungmin was just there for a walk, hoodie zipped, coffee in hand, when a golden retriever bounded toward him and knocked his drink out of his hand.

“Max!” you shouted, running over. “I am so sorry—”

He looked up, drenched but grinning.

You skidded to a stop. “Oh my god, your sweater—”

“It’s okay,” he laughed, shaking off the coffee like it was nothing. “Strong dog.”

You sighed, tugging the leash. “He loves knocking over innocent bystanders.”

Seungmin’s gaze lingered. “I don’t mind. I think he’s doing me a favor.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Well…” He gave you a small smile. “Now I get to meet his very cute owner.”

You stared, caught off guard. Then you laughed — full and surprised.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered.

“Seungmin. I swear I usually smell like vanilla lattes, not wear them.”

You laughed harder. Max barked in approval.

He offered to walk with you for a while — and suddenly, his morning felt warmer than any coffee ever could.

﹙ 𐙚 : JEONGIN ﹚ .ᐟ 아이엔

It was his first day trying pottery class — something he secretly signed up for on a dare from Hyunjin.

The studio was small and cozy, soft jazz playing through a dusty speaker, hands covered in clay as Jeongin nervously tried to center his wobbly bowl.

“Hi,” came a voice beside him. “First timer?”

He looked up and nearly dropped the entire lump of clay.

You were smiling at him, apron already dusted with white powder, your wheel spinning perfectly.

“Uh… yeah. Is it that obvious?”

You laughed, not unkindly. “A little. Want some help?”

He blinked. “You’d help a total stranger?”

“Only if he looks this nervous,” you teased.

You knelt beside him and gently guided his hands over the clay. “Like this. Easy pressure.”

Your touch was light, voice calming.

And just like that, he was smitten.

When class ended, he blurted out, “Do you… want to get hot chocolate or something?”

You beamed. “I’d love to.”

And for the first time, Jeongin walked out with something better than a finished bowl — a name, a smile, and a hope.

Please do not repost, translate, or claim this writing as your own without permission. Reblogs are appreciated to support the author!

Thank you for reading :)

[malsmind]

shut up for a second

𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

contains ➛ ★ big dick!chris ★ size kink ★ crying ★ mentions of smoking weed ★ praising ★ dirty talk ★ slight dumbification ★ pet names ★ creampie ★

𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦!

word count: 1.3k

you don’t really know how you ended up here.

well, that’s not true. you do — you remember the smoke swirling around the living room, the low hum of music in the background, the lazy conversation that turned into lazy touches. the way chris had looked at you with that smirk, those heavy-lidded eyes that meant trouble, the slow way his fingers ran over your thigh while you passed the blunt back and forth. and now… now you’re straddling him on the couch, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his waist, your hoodie pushed up around your ribs, your shorts long gone. he’s warm under you, hands already resting on your hips like he belongs there. like this is something you both do all the time. it’s not. not exactly.

but maybe it should be.

“you feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmurs, voice already breathy, already dragging through his throat like he’s deep in it. “so tight—holy shit.”

you’re only halfway down.

your jaw clenches, breath catching in your throat. the stretch is slow and heavy, the high making it ten times worse—every nerve dialed up, every breath in your lungs tasting like smoke and tension. he’s not small. you’ve known that. you should’ve remembered that. but you’re too far in to stop now.

“chris…” you whisper, barely a warning. not sure if it’s a plea or a threat.

but he keeps going, hands tightening on your waist like he can’t help himself. “can’t believe how warm you are, shit—look at you. takin’ me so slow. bein’ so good for me.”

your eyes flutter shut, face scrunching, lips parting as you try to focus on breathing. he might be enjoying this part, but you’re hovering between pain and pleasure, trying to find the edge where one bleeds into the other. he groans again—loud, needy—and starts to say something else and nope, you’re done.

you reach out and slap your hand over his mouth.

“chris, shut up for a fuckin’ second…” you breathe, voice cracking, barely able to get the words out as your thighs tremble and you slowly, finally, sink down the rest of the way.

his eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t pull away from your touch. just grins under your hand, groaning into your palm as you bottom out on him with a soft, broken whimper. your head spins. your body goes hot all over. you stay there, not daring to move yet, just breathing, letting your body adjust. your fingers are still pressed against his cheek, your palm over his lips, and he looks so amused by all of this. he raises his brows at you, as if to say, are you done yet? you slowly pull your hand away from his mouth. roll your hips once. then again.

he groans out loud, head tipping back against the couch. “that big, huh?” he huffs a laugh, the cockiness returning full force. “needed to fuckin’ concentrate on takin’ my dick.”

you roll your eyes, leaning forward slightly, your palms flat against his chest now. “i swear to god,” you mumble, “i’ll hold your mouth shut again.”

he’s grinning up at you now, hands moving to your hips again, helping you move, slow and steady.

“ion think you will, ma,” he says, his voice smug. too smug. “not when you feel this good. not when you’re grippin’ me like that.”

you breathe out hard through your nose, trying to hold onto your pace, trying not to lose yourself in how full you feel, how good the pressure is, how he fits like you were built to take him. every roll of your hips makes your stomach flutter and your thighs tremble. he watches you like you’re a damn piece of art.

“c’mon,” he murmurs, guiding your movements, fingers pressing into your skin just right. “tell me how it feels. tell me how fuckin’ big that dick is.”

“chris—” you warn, but your voice falters, choked with need.

“nah, nah. you know you love it,” he keeps going, voice low. “look at that pussy. fuckin’ milkin’ me dry.”

you let out a broken sound, head dropping forward, forehead resting against his shoulder as your pace falters for a second. your whole body feels like it’s on fire. overstimulated and desperate and high—like every word out of his mouth is crawling under your skin in the worst, and best way.

he kisses the side of your face, grinning against your cheek. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this. dumb n’ needy. can’t even ride me properly, hm?”

you gasp softly, hips stuttering. “shut up—”

“you can’t even stop,” he says, voice dropping lower now. less teasing. more wrecked. “feels too good, huh? that it?”

you nod, barely. lips brushing his collarbone. you’re too far gone to argue. the way he fills you is too much. too perfect. it hurts a little still, but you love it—you live for this kind of overwhelming stretch. and he knows it. he knows what he’s doing to you. he lifts his hips a little, meeting you halfway.

“fuck, ’s so big…” you moan.

“mhmmm. there it is,” he breathes, hands tightening on you. “ride me, baby. just like that.”

you try. god, you try. your legs are shaking and your thoughts are scattered and you’re doing your best to keep going but it’s getting harder and harder to keep control.

“chris,” you whimper, voice barely there.

he kisses your jaw, still smiling. “you gonna cum?”

you nod, lips parting, breath catching.

“use me, then,” he murmurs, his voice low and hot and sweet like honey. “take what you need.”

and you do. you roll your hips faster now, harder, your thighs burning and your moans getting louder as your body takes over. chris groans under you, hands moving up your back, pulling you closer. your chest is flush against his now, your face buried in his neck, breath hitching every few seconds as the knot in your stomach coils tight and hot.

“thereee ya go,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “come on, baby. fuckin’ cum on this big dick. lemme feel it.”

his hands move to your ass, helping you grind down harder, deeper, until you’re trembling and crying out against his throat. you come hard, body curling in on itself, nails digging into his shoulders as you gasp and whimper, shaking. he holds you through it, whispering praises into your skin, voice cracking with how hard he’s trying not to lose it himself.

“that’s it… that’s it, ma… fuck—”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until he touches your cheek, brushing away the tears.

“you okay?” he asks softly, suddenly all gentle again.

you nod into his neck. “feels too good,” you mumble.

“i know,” he says. “i know, baby.”

you start moving again, slowly, almost mindlessly. still riding the high. still chasing something. he groans, hands on your hips again, letting you keep going even though your legs are weak and you’re still shaking.

“you’re insane,” he mutters. “you’re so fuckin’ perfect. can’t believe—shit—”

you feel him twitch inside you. and then his voice breaks.

“fuck, i’m gonna—”

you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel him throb, his whole body tensing underneath you. he pulls you down hard, hips jerking up once, twice—and then he groans loud into your neck, teeth sinking lightly into your skin as he comes. deep. warm. thick. you both go still.

just breathing. his arms stay around you. your head stays on his shoulder. the air is thick and quiet and buzzing with whatever just happened. a minute passes.

“i really did have to concentrate,” you mumble, half-laughing.

he laughs too, breathless. “yeah? and i made it hard?”

“you never shut up.”

“that’s crazy,” he says, grinning. “because you still came all over me.”

you smack his chest. “shut up.”

he kissed your forehead. “you love it.”

[chrissv4mp]

VIDEOS GIRLFRIEND!BILLIE WOULD SEND YOU .ᐟ

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: lookin 4 something???

the video starts quickly—billie holding her phone up above her head, resting comfortably in what looks to be the couch on her tour bus. she hums softly, a soothing melody that you wish you had the chance to hear again face-to-face. then the camera pans back down, her fingers fumbling with the device before successfully setting it onto the couch opposite of where she was perched.

it's only then do you realize what she's wearing—a purple hoodie that's quite similar to yours... and as you squint, trying to remember where you recognize it from. before the answer can click in your mind, billie speaks up.

"i know you're probably wondering where i got this," she grins, cheekily. "or maybe you're wondering why i have this?" she adds, smile breaking out wider. "and—okay, don't blame me—but i snuck it in my bag before tour..."

your favorite hoodie.

and, clearly, hers as well.

"but!" she exclaims, then whips her head to the side at the sound of one of the cabin bunks creaking. then, quieter, "but i wanted to know that you're always here—or, at least, a part of you."

you can see the pink tint of her cheeks flushing even in the dim lighting of the tour bus, and it only becomes more apparent as she pulls the hood further down—covering her face in embarrassment as she giggles quietly, the sound muffled behind the thick, cozy fabric of your hoodie. the one that you'd been losing your mind while trying to find over the past few days. guess it's a huge weight lifted off your chest knowing that the person you trust most has it.

the room goes quiet for a moment too long—and then a long yawn rips through billie's throat, resulting in the girl lifting her arms up and stretching dramatically, a habit you'd also picked up on a few months into the relationship. billie sits up, scooting to the edge of the cushions and snatching up her phone again. she pulls the device close to her face, anything below her nose unseen in the camera.

"okay, well," she exhales, sleepy. "that's my cue."

her eyes flick to the camera, pulling the phone away a bit to grin at you through the phone. "i love you, pretty girl. i'll call tomorrow... if the timezones aren't fucked up—but if they are, still expect a call. just... later."

she blows a kiss, a tired smile pulling at her lips. "g'night."

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: i'd wanna fuck me too !!

"damn," billie purrs, tilting her head to the side. the sunlight from the open curtains of her hotel room illuminate her face. her lips part, eyes flitting across the screen—checking herself out shamelessly. "not to be conceded but... i see why you want me all the time, baby," she teases, leaning back on the couch, maroon and plush.

her hair is in a low bun, loose strands falling on her neck—so effortlessly perfect it's almost like she pulled them out herself. the video is nearly silent for a few seconds, the low hum of the A/C in the background setting a soft, quiet mood, almost like she's at home. her shoulders are relaxed, brows not furrowed like you'd seen them the last time she jumped onto facetime with you.

billie whistles low as she sets her phone down on the table, probably propped against her water bottle. "holy shit, i might actually start drooling over myself right now," she smiles, turning her head to the side and humming upon seeing the sharp line of her jaw.

"woah," she muses, giggling as she turns back to face the camera. "okay, baby—i need to call you, like, now."

she grabs her phone, tugging it off the table. the video still plays for a moment, even while billie looks like she's deep into finding your contact. then, with a quiet—needy—huff from between billie's pouty lips, the video ends.

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: bts for europe pt2... ur lucky...

the first thing you notice is her camera—not her phone, but an actual camera. the thought of billie taking the time to export the video off the camera just for you already had your heart warming. what made your heart warmer was simply just seeing her face, inverted in the mirror yet still looking as beautiful as ever. the camera view shakes a little in the awkward position of her hand, moving a bit closer—showing the background of what seemed to be a closed shop.

"aaahh!" she whispers, mouth opening in a low roar. her nose scrunches as she takes a step back, focusing the camera on the clean mirror for a second longer before stepping away fully and showing you where she was.

there's multiple racks of her merchandise—a plethora of reds, blues, yellows, and whites, colors that she'd been fixated on even before the meetings for her tour plans began. you remember her always coming home with boxes of her first samples of hoodies and t-shirts. unbeknownst to you, she'd ordered one of each sample in your size—feigning surprise whenever you slid the piece of fabric on and found out that it fit you perfectly.

her voice breaks throught the quiet murmur employees in the background. "nobody passing by knows that i'm in here... well, except for you," she thinks out loud, voice trailing off. "wait, but you're not passing by, so—nevermind, still counts."

"this is going in the vlog, by the way," billie announces in a quiet whisper, like it's a secret. "and you're the first person to seee!! i'm so excited for this next part, baby, you don't even know."

her shoes pad on the concrete floors, the camera view getting closer and closer to a rack of multiple hoodies, the designs varying—fabric in red with a graphic of billie from her rolling stone photoshoot ranging from a darker black hoodie featuring a lighter graphic of her name and a photo taken on her latest tour stop, amsterdam.

"dude, this shit is so sick," she admires, flipping the camera to show her happy expression. "might have to get a few to take home to you—gosh, you'd look amazing in the red."

then, she comes closer, murmuring much quieter, "and, preferably, nothin' underneath..." quickly, the camera pulls away from her face.

"okay bye!"

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: BERLINNNNN

billie's hand is on her cheek, jaw open wide in faux surprise as she points at a poster of herself with her free hand—eyes wide as she frantically taps against the window like she's seeing something that's a once in a lifetime experience. someone—ava—giggles behind the camera, shaking the view for a moment to point at the poster as well, a surprised gasp of her own falling from between her lips.

they're standing outside a shop, the window showcasing a display of billie's latest perfume release—your turn. the gates were still closed due to the early hour, the sun still slowly rising above the mountains. ava zooms in on billie just as she sticks her tongue out—then, unexpectedly, she sprints off camera, nearly tripping over her jeans with her suddenly fast steps. ava trails not too far behind, giggling.

"billie, i'm coming go the show tonight!" someone screams in the distance, loud enough for the camera to pick it up.

she doesn't stop running, and neither does ava—her head just whips around as she stuffs a hand into her pocket, her smile clear in the way she screams, "love you!"

"i love you!" the fan screams back, and ava can't hold in the giggles crawling up her throat.

ava chases after billie until they tumble into the back of their car, breathing heavily as their backs finally hit the seats, lips parted to take the chance to breathe after the sudden interaction. her blue eyes meet the camera again, a dopey smile playing at the corners of her lips. she slumps in her seat, falling to the side and laying across her side of the car with a few quiet chuckles. ava joins in on the laughter, the little sounds escaping billie's throat contagious.

"that was... unexpected," ava comments through her fit of giggles, the words cut off a bit at the end due to the engine of the car rumbling to life.

billie nods. "ugh, i love them," she huffs, pushing herself up again and buckling herself in. the click of a seatbelt echoes in the camera speakers as ava does the same. "if we weren't in a rush i would've ran over and tackled them."

ava huffs a laugh.

"lightly—" billie clarifies. then, with a deep squint of her eyes, hums and whispers, "maybe not, actually. don't wanna catch an assault charge in the middle of tour..."

the blonde behind the camera hums. "they'd probably cherish the bruise, billie."

billie bursts out into laughter—then, the video cuts.

letters. will this get me out of the motivation drought.... fingers are tightly crossed rn bcus i have something big and exciting planned 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @fleurfiles @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @ma1spa @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @skinnyhmhas @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz @emi-inspace

[luckyladylily]

This is a very weird post to me because it's the most technically correct thing I've ever read in my life, but in a way that makes me think OP has not only lost the thread on kink vs vanilla but has gotten so lost in the sauce they are missing the point of fan fic in general.

To address kink vs vanilla, I have extensive real world experience and I can tell you right now that you cannot predict or otherwise draw hard conclusions about kink based on a person's personality or lived experiences. There can be some patterns, but they are not hard patterns you can count on. This is the way in which this post is very technically correct. It is absolutely true that character's favorite position could be no frills missionary, even if they seem like the kinkiest mother fucker who ever walked the earth. Some people do in fact have vanilla sex.

But that's a very weird thing to point out because most people already know this, and even in explicit fandom fics with bdsm dynamics are out numbered by fics focusing on more vanilla sex, especially in fics that are actually about character work where bdsm dynamics are so rare fics like this often don't even exist at all for many ships.

I know this because, for personal reasons I won't get into, "vanilla sex" (and how people write it) is deeply uncomfortable to me. I like character focused explicit fic, but trying to find something that doesn't make me want to claw my skin off means sifting through dozens of vanilla fics to find one fic that strays from vanilla dynamics enough to be palatable. And that's when I'm lucky and such a fic exists at all. This has held true in every single pairing and fandom I've ever spent time in.

The only 2 areas where dom/sub dynamics or other heavy kinks outweigh vanilla dynamics in fandom is discussion of sex among kinky fans and one shots specifically dedicated to low or zero context sex. In other words, where interesting sexual dynamics are more important than the actual characters involved. The parts of fandom where characters are just pretty dolls we use to populate our sexual fantasies.

The second post has it completely wrong. In these spaces, It's not that kink is a substitute for personality, it's that kink trumps personality. Fandom is playing with dolls, and maybe for you character work is what it's all about, but that's not true for everyone. We all play with the dolls differently, and it's not like people who are in it for the low context sexual fantasy are suddenly going to be into character work now you've pointed this out, so what's the point? If these people won't play correctly (according to you), then they shouldn't play at all?

Fandom is not a zero sum game. Out of character bdsm one shots are not actually taking away from your character focused works.

This is complaining about people playing with their dolls in a way you don't like. If you prefer one way of playing with the dolls the answer is to find like minded people, not getting pissy about others playing with their toys wrong.

nothing but respect for our troops (smut writers) but listen. i dont want to be the person to tell you this, but not every character is going to be a dom or a sub. some people. and i know this is hard to hear. but some people do have vanilla sex. and some of those people might even be The Character.

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the weight of distance presses heavier with each passing day, the ache of absence stitched together only by hour-long phone calls like a fragile sutures on a wound that refuses to close. so you choose his birthday — the perfect day to cross the miles in silence and secrecy, and surprise spencer on his special day.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: glasses!reid x baufemale!reader, long distance relationship, early seasons team, so our queen elle is here, lots of team interactions overall, both reader and spencer's pov, height difference, kissing until his glasses fog up xx

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5k

𝐚/𝐧: literally started writing this over two months ago so i hope the first half doesnt differ too much in quality from the second one :/ the soul who’s the first to catch the tiny subtle mr darcy reference gets a cookie!

You admitted it without a trace of embarrassment – every time you called your long-distance boyfriend, you waited for him to pick up with your forehead almost glued to the screen and your lips frozen in a half-smile, ready to bloom across half your face the moment you saw his face.

Automatically.

The word nonchalance wasn’t foreign to you, but you deeply despised it. You had no intention of pretending it didn’t matter whether he picked up or not, or that you hadn’t rearranged half of your quite busy day for that shared moment. You weren’t going to pretend that hearing his voice meant any less to you than it actually did, just to maintain some kind of image or out of fear of being too much.

No, that definitely wasn’t your case.

If anything, you leaned toward paranoia — that you weren’t doing enough to take care of your relationship stretched across nearly 4000 miles and separated by the Pacific. That you weren’t trying hard enough. You had a set time for one call a day; usually, by then, you were already comfortably tucked under the covers and reporting in for duty (though duty was a very poor comparison—unless we’re talking about the duty of petting small fluffy puppies. yes. kissing the heads of twenty fluffy puppies was almost exactly like your daily call with Spencer).

But that one daily call usually wasn’t the only one. You reached out to each other spontaneously throughout the day, depending on your schedules and the plans of that particular day. On weekends, you watched movies together, he read a book aloud and you exchanged thoughts only when his calm voice reached the end of a chapter, or you played chess online. The bare minimum to fill the void left behind by the distance.

A void that was, however, ravenous—and seemed to deepen with every passing day. It wasn’t a graph line with rises and dips. It kept steadily taking up more and more space inside you.

And that’s how you came to the conclusion that even hundreds of books read aloud by Spencer wouldn’t be enough to dissolve it.

Not when his voice came through a phone speaker.

Not when it wasn’t followed by his breath, tickling your ear.

And that realization pushed you toward a certain…spontaneous decision.

But more on that later.

Your call was finally answered, and a premature, involuntary soft smile curled your lips before his face even appeared on your screen.

“Hey, handsome…” you began with your usual line, fully prepared to relish the blush that would bloom on his cheeks like cupcakes with sweet cherries on top—

but instead of your favorite treat, you were met with something entirely different.

Seeing Derek’s face, clumsily close to the front-facing camera and moving in a way that strongly suggested he was fiercely struggling to keep hold of the phone, snapped you back to attention like an athlete catching their footing.

“Hello, conventionally handsome man, long time no see. Anyway, where’s my handsome man?”

“Morgan, I’m serious, give me—”

“Hey, kid, how many times have I told you women don’t like possessive men? Let me talk to her for a sec…”

“I’m not possessive, I just…”

“You’re right, long time no see,” Derek cut in, completely ignoring his friend—his words, his attempts to wrestle the phone back from his hand. You kept your gaze fixed on the corner of the screen where a part of Spencer’s face occasionally slipped into the frame. Your lips were still curved in a smile, but shifting your focus to Morgan took effort. “What’s up, former-new girl? Don’t look too happy to see me.”

“Oh, I’m very happy to see you. In fact, the sight of you has turned this rainy Amsterdam day well, not exactly sunny, but let’s say we’ve moved from a downpour to a drizzle.”

“You’re welcome—that’s what friends are for. So? You in the mood for a quick chat with me?”

“Morgan.”

“Hmm, gladly,” you replied, tapping your free lip in mock thoughtfulness. “Let me just check my schedule to see when I might be available. How about next Friday?”

“Next Friday?”

“Morgan, I swear—”

“Oh my God, stop torturing them already,” cut in a woman’s voice you recognized instantly, and almost in the same moment, the phone moved from Morgan’s hand to your friend Elle’s.

She gave you a smile—a fleeting one, just a flash of sincerity—before replacing it with her trademark bossy expression. “Another second and they’ll both shrivel up from longing. Here you go.” She handed the phone back to its rightful owner. The first thing you saw were his eyes behind the glasses, aimed at her, full of grateful warmth. “You both owe me one. But since one of you is currently unavailable and clearly unable to repay it, you owe me two favors, Reid.”

A nod.

 “Goes without saying.”

You just managed to catch Morgan’s disappointed sigh at having his thoroughly entertaining game cut short, before you found yourself finally, completely one-on-one with your boyfriend.

He was watching the two of them—presumably leaving—until, at last, his gaze shifted to you. That tiny smile of yours finally bloomed into something fuller.

“Okay, I feel like I was interrupted earlier and I need to say this again, properly,” you said before he could get a word out. You took a breath, like you were about to cast a spell. “Good morning, handsome.”

You loved that kind of smile on his lips—the one that came with an involuntary tilt of the head, like its weight shifted evenly and pulled just enough to cause that barely noticeable movement.

“Finally. Good morning, angel.”

It warmed you every single time he used that phrase with you, and you couldn’t help but blink a little faster at the thought of hearing it in person after such a long time apart. But that was still the future, a vision. For now, there was the present, reality.

“Please, tell Morgan I didn’t brush him off because I didn’t want to talk to him,” you said. “But I literally have fifteen minutes before I have to leave and just wanted to call you real quick, because I won’t be very available later. I have a seminar.”

Spencer nodded because, of course, he remembered. But still, his brown eyes clouded slightly.

“You mentioned it. And well, of course I’ll tell Morgan you brushed him off because you didn’t want to talk to him.”

You almost snorted, but held it back.

“Hey, being my boyfriend doesn’t give you permission to use me for your personal revenge.”

“It doesn’t?” he asked with a face of innocence, fake curiosity, like he’d just come across a tiny footnote at the bottom of a page, an unknown piece of information.

“Well, usually no, but there are exceptions to that rule. For example, when the personal revenge might bring satisfaction to both of us. The second is when you ask nicely. Just please, don’t abuse that option.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I’d make you pinky-promise, but that wouldn’t really work in our current situation,” you said, glancing at your own raised pinkie, the corners of your mouth tugging downward.

Then suddenly, they parted, struck by a thought. “Oh, right. I just remembered. What are you planning to do tomorrow?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly.

“The usual, I guess? Go to work…”

“For your birthday, silly.”

This time, it was his lips that parted with a soft, dawning hiss of realization. You looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t even tell me you forgot your own birthday.”

Spencer shook his head distractedly.

“No, it’s not that I completely forgot. But if you think about it, it wouldn’t be that weird if I had. I don’t have any plans anyway, and it’s just going to be…you know, a totally normal day.”

You watched him for a moment in silence. You rarely faked emotions around him. But this time, you had to summon a thick mask of exaggerated disappointment—couldn’t let even the tiniest flicker of stinging excitement slip through.

“I wish I could be there for you so badly.”

That part didn’t need faking. The sincerity in those words rang clear. You saw your boyfriend’s jaw tighten slightly, and you wished you could reach out and rest your hand against it, letting your thumb brush toward his lips.

The silence that followed suddenly felt especially heavy. You knew Spencer was masking his sadness so you wouldn’t feel bad about not being there. He didn’t expect you to feel guilty—but he anticipated it. And, well, he’d be right. You would feel bad.

You forced a smile onto your lips—only because you wanted to see how, eyes fixed on your face, he’d unconsciously mirror the gesture. You’d learned that trick a long, long time ago.

“I have to run,” you announced with a sigh. “Seriously, I have to run. technically, I should already be out the door.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella.”

“It’s not raining anymore.”

“Yeah, but it’s supposed to start again right around the time you’ll be heading home. And there’s a cold front coming in from the North Sea, so maybe wear something warmer under your coat. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Spencer knew the weather in your city—on another continent—better than you did.

A moment of silence to let that fact settle. Thank you.

“If you’re right, I love you,” you said. “If you’re wrong, I still love you, but I’m also mad I had to lug around an umbrella all day.”

For a fleeting moment, he dipped his head, eyes squinting just slightly, a small smile on his lips.

“I love you too.”

*

Spencer had never been particularly fond of celebrating his birthday.

To him, birthdays were simply another way of measuring time like years, months, weeks, and days—only a little more brutal. They were like a mirror you woke up in front of one day, a moment of realization and reckoning—not so much with time moving forward, but with everything that had been left behind. The new year reflected what you had achieved and who you had become. Birthdays, on the other hand, felt like a celebration of missed chances, honored with the addition of yet another digit to your age.

Twenty-six. He could’ve done something far more impressive by now—and he didn’t mean that just as self-criticism. He was being objective. At twenty-six, Einstein had his Annus Mirabilis, his miraculous year, the year he developed the theory of mass–energy equivalence. With that knowledge in mind, Spencer had every right to feel a certain pressure.

But beyond all that, that day…he just wasn’t in the mood.

He had just been wondering what to eat for dinner when his phone started ringing.

A long-distance relationship had trained him to reach for it the exact second the ringtone sounded—and to experience that brief flicker of disappointment when the name on the screen wasn’t the one he was hoping for. Just like this time.

“Oh, Reid, how wonderful that you picked up so fast,” came Penelope’s voice on the other end.

“Garcia, hey. Something’s wrong?”

“Yes. I mean—no. I need you to drop by for a moment, is that okay? I mean, even if it’s not okay, it’s still probably better if you come. Not that I’m forcing you, but—ugh, just come over.”

Spencer was standing in his kitchen, phone pressed to his ear, and as her explanation spilled out, a suspicion started blooming in him. He considered himself a fairly perceptive person—and Penelope a very open book. So it was no surprise that, almost immediately, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He leaned his lower back against one of the cabinets, folding his free arm across his chest.

 “I’m not sure I can make it,” he said despite knowing full well that he could, and that he had the time. But he also knew that, on the other end, Garcia was probably exchanging panicked looks with the rest of the team, arguing about where exactly to hang the balloons in her apartment. And the image was amusing enough to drag out the moment. “For what?”

“I need your help. With something.”

“With what exactly?”

His friend let out something between a hum and a sigh—both thoughtful and panicked.

Meanwhile, Spencer waited patiently, smiling to himself and saying nothing.

“What am I supposed to tell him?!”Penelope’s voice came faintly from the speaker, as if she’d lowered the phone away from her mouth probably thinking that would keep him from hearing. It didn’t.

“I don’t know, make something up!” came a reply Spencer recognized instantly—Derek. A finger snap. “Lightbulb in the bathroom went out.”

“Oh, great! I love when your brain is the same size as your biceps.” She turned her attention back to the phone, voice suddenly loud and confident with her freshly invented excuse  “The lightbulb in my bathroom blew.”

Spencer wasn’t about to let it slide that easily.

“What wattage?”

“What?”

“What wattage is the bulb? LED or halogen?”

“Normal. It’s a normal lightbulb, Reid.”

“Are you sure it’s burnt out? Could be a wiring issue. Might be better to call a specialist to take a look. I’d rather not end up electrocuted. Especially on my birthday.”

“Jeez, tell him to stop being such a child.”

Penelope pulled the phone away again.

 “I can’t, then he won’t come at all!”

“I have an idea,” Spencer said suddenly, forcing her to scramble back to the call.

“Why don’t you ask Morgan to change it for you, since he’s already there?”

Garcia squeaked in panic. Then immediately broke into a cough, trying to mask the sound.

“There is no Derek Morgan here! Where would you even get that idea?” she squealed in a high voice. At the same time, a distinct snort of laughter echoed in the background. “That? That’s just the TV. Just…some dumb show with an annoying host. Ugh, I should really turn it off…”

The snort that echoed in the background this time didn’t belong to Morgan. It belonged to Elle. A quiet, distant argument broke out between all three of them, and Spencer didn’t understand a single word of it. He cut in at the moment he considered most appropriate.

“I’ll be at your place in 30 minutes.”

Complete silence.

“You’re coming? Seriously? Guys, he says that— I mean, ymm, great! See you!”

Before she hung up, he still managed to hear her deep sigh of relief that the conversation, in which she had to show off her conspiracy skills, was finally over.

Spencer slowly pulled the phone away from his ear, remaining for a moment in the silence that followed. Of course he had intended to show up from the very beginning. He might not have felt excited at the thought of his birthday, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate the surprise his friends had put effort into preparing. It wasn’t his dream way of spending the day, but there was a reason that dream scenario remained in the realm of dreams—its realization was simply physically impossible. But a not-so-surprising surprise party ranked high on that list.

He hesitated over what to wear. In the end, his gaze settled on the shirt he'd gotten from no one other than you. You liked how that soft, muted pink color both slightly contrasted with his wardrobe and still somehow fit perfectly into it. You also used to say it brightened his face.

Spencer pulled it on, tied his tie, and sent you a photo. He wanted you to know that even though you were far away, he was still wearing your favorite clothes.mHe didn’t expect you to reply right away.You’d already had the birthday call, during which you gave him wishes you’d been crafting for two weeks. You delivered them at machine-gun speed with all your enthusiasm, then repeated them more slowly so he’d have a chance to actually understand anything.

Your reply came just as he was leaving his apartment.

my boyfriend sending me an outfit check??? never thought I’d live to see that day

He was just turning the key in the lock, the light from his phone casting a glow onto his face, letting the gentle smile on his lips break through the darkness slowly wrapping around the stairwell. He pressed the handle again to check whether being distracted had made him forget to lock it. Then he dropped the key into his pocket and slowly started down the stairs. 

Not quite an outfit check. Just tangible or well, virtual, proof that I really like this shirt and I’m not wearing it just because you told me to. The team’s throwing me a surprise party and I figured it’d be perfect…

here his fingers slowed

…it’s your favorite, and in its own not-quite-explainable way, it makes me feel like you’re here.

The reply probably came in before you even finished reading the whole message.

so an outfit check?

wait what kind of surprise party is it if you know about it??

u’re so sweet. also you look so good in that color.

He wanted to text back, to explain how he even knew about this surprise party, but another message came in.

sorry cant really text rn just getting off the tram :( hope u have fun at the party kisses call u later

He was a little surprised, since you usually took the later tram home, but maybe you just had your own reason for coming back earlier. Maybe he’d ask about it later, when the two of you called. Spencer hoped he wouldn’t be too tired after the party to talk to you.

So he replied simply

Got it. Please, be safe.

The way to Penelope’s apartment passed very quickly for him. It occurred to him that he didn’t really know who would even be there. Definitely Morgan, Elle, possibly JJ, but he doubted that everyone had shown up—like, everyone everyone.

And if it turned out he was right, he didn’t intend to be even slightly offended—after all, it was understandable they might’ve wanted to spend the evening in a different way. He knocked on the door and didn’t even call out to come in, even though as he was approaching them, he had clearly heard voices coming from inside, which suddenly, as if by magic, fell silent.

He felt like rolling his eyes—in a positive sense. It was predictable. Of course it was. But it also filled him with a certain warm feeling.

He opened the door and stepped into Garcia’s apartment, heading for the living room. And that’s exactly what he did when he saw the entire team gathered there. He rolled his eyes, though that warm feeling grew stronger and made the decision on its own to stretch his lips into a broad, broader smile when he realized they really were all there.

They were silent, eyes fixed on him, Elle and JJ both holding a tray with a birthday cake with lit candles, but for some reason not bringing it any closer to him.

“Sorry, but I have to say this,” he began. “You’re so predictable.”

“Are we?” came a voice directly behind his back.

He didn’t exactly freeze in place, like he’d been hit with liquid nitrogen. His body transitioned into that state gradually — starting with his shoulder blades instinctively drawing together, long before his mind fully processed the situation or registered that voice.

That voice.

The voice he heard every single day through his phone or laptop speaker, desecrated by the quality of the device — which, even if it were the most cutting-edge machine built by NASA, wouldn’t be able to truly convey the tone of her voice, let alone force him to feel the kind of emotions that now crashed into him like a wave, drowning him.

Water filling his ears.

No, that couldn’t be — they had literally exchanged texts just moments ago!

His eyes locked ahead, all the team’s gazes fixed on him, waiting, expectant. Penelope, her hands tightly clasped together, resting just beneath her chin.

Spencer, not breathing, turned around — and only then drew in a deep, vital breath.

Vital, because he knew he was about to pull her into an embrace so tight neither of them would get a taste of air for a very long time.

Your eyes locked onto each other like two powerful magnets, desperately seeking one another — an instant click. Another instant click when both your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, lifting her feet off the ground. Click when his hands gripped your waist firmly, steadying you. Click when his face found its place in the curve of your neck, burying itself there completely, disappearing, hiding, drawing the curtains so no one else could interrupt this moment.

Click, because you were together.

Spencer drew in a shaky breath, entirely filled with your scent — a scent he seemed to rediscover after months apart — occupying his mind so completely that the words he had intended to say slipped away from him entirely. You took over the role of speaker instead.

“Happy birthday,” you announced tearfully, sniffling and pulling your head away from his shoulder so the tear rolling down your cheek wouldn’t stain his shirt.

The pale pink shirt. Your favorite shirt.

You pouted your bottom lip, trying to hold it together, but you couldn’t. Now that you were finally with him, the full weight of maintaining a long-distance relationship — the weight you had been pushing away to avoid sinking into sadness — crashed down on you all at once. But it was wild, unrestrained, and yet instantly found comfort in his arms, his scent, his presence.

You felt his chest cave slightly as he took in a breath and lifted his head to look at you. In the process, his glasses had been pressed all the way up his nose from where they'd been crushed between your neck and his face — the frames practically touching his eyelids — but neither of you thought about how ridiculous that must've looked.

His eyes immediately locked onto the tear that had slipped from yours. He wanted to wipe it away, but he didn’t want to let go of you either, so he settled for pressing a fleeting kiss to your cheek, brushing it away with his lips instead.

It earned a muffled, quiet laugh from you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hushed voice.

You blinked and dipped your head slightly, letting the tears pool without falling, then tilted it back up so you could focus on his face. Immediately, you had the impulse to adjust his glasses, which you did.

“Attending my boyfriend’s surprise birthday party,” you replied, sliding your hand down his chest and rising onto your toes to kiss him — briefly, because you could feel the eyes of all your friends on you, patiently silent and giving you time.

It wasn’t a good idea. The moment your lips brushed his, Spencer froze for a second, only to lean in for more right after. You barely managed to pull away, ignoring his disgruntled hum of protest.

“But I guess I’m the only element of this whole thing that was actually a surprise…”

You shot a meaningful look at Penelope, fully aware Spencer had known about some kind of party happening. The blonde defensively waved her hands in front of her, brushing off the implied accusation.

“Oh, you don’t get it. I let it slip on purpose so your entrance would be more spectacular! Our genius boy thought he had outsmarted our whole plan and then…” she gestured between the two of you, still tangled together.

This time, it was Spencer who shot her a look, full of disbelief at her words and amused pity. And, as it turned out, he wasn’t the only one — well over half of the people present mirrored his reaction.

To shake off all the attention suddenly weighing on her, Penelope snapped her fingers in the direction of Elle and JJ, who were holding the birthday cake.

"Those candles are practically melting! Don’t forget your wish, loverboy."

Your lips twitched the moment you heard that nickname, and you gave Spencer a light, urging pat on the arm still wrapped around you. You could still feel his hand gently tightening around your waist for a fleeting moment before he let go — his fingers performing a subtle flex before falling back to rest — and leaned down over the cake to blow out the candles shaped like the numbers 2 and 6.

He immediately tried to pull you back into his embrace, but you forced yourself to slip away, letting him get swept into the whirlwind of bear hugs from everyone else.

You stayed back, just slightly to the side, knowing you'd have time for just the two of you later. Your gaze lingered on his softly glowing brown eyes behind his glasses and the faint squint from the smile that simply refused to leave his face. The sounds of the room gradually faded away around you.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel the slightest exhaustion after the long, connecting flights. And even if any fatigue dared creep its way into your body, it was instantly drowned out by what now burned in your chest — that warm, joyful feeling.

“Why did I even stress so much over picking a gift for him?” you heard from your left , Gideon muttering under his breath, but still loud enough for you to catch. He was staring in the same direction. “No matter what I gave him, the only thing he’ll remember from today is you.”

You exchanged a glance with him — the smile lingering only on your lips, but you could tell he shared it.

For the rest of the party, you and Spencer stayed within arm’s reach, always side by side, finally able to allow yourselves that closeness after so many months apart. Even later, as you made your way back to his apartment at night, hauling gift bags and a single box between you, he carried them all on one arm just so he could keep the other wrapped around you.

You clung to his pink shirt, occasionally rising onto your toes to press a kiss to his jaw or a smile, only to pull away again quickly — careful not to crash into a trash can or a lamp post along your path.

Clinging tightly to his side wasn’t exactly making it easier for either of you to walk. But Spencer didn’t complain. Even despite the fact that you were moving at the pace of a drunken turtle.

When his apartment building finally appeared within sight, you tilted your head back for a moment, breathing slower, more consciously.

“Tonight’s stars are so beautiful,” you remarked, staring at the faint, barely visible dots in the sky.

Spencer slowed his steps, lifting his gaze toward the sky, only to fully shift his attention to your face.

“Setting aside the fact that those are the same stars on the same day,” he started, in that scientific yet soft way of speaking of his, “which I’m quite sure you know…no, they’re not beautiful. Look again. You can barely see them.”

“They’re still beautiful,” you insisted.

You were two adults, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, loaded with birthday gift bags, arguing whether or not the stars were beautiful. Spencer stood firmly on the no side of that debate.

“Absolutely not. Artificial light sources in the city generate light pollution, which makes astronomical observation of the night sky difficult. If we were somewhere less urbanized—”

“But we’re here,” you cut in softly, your face still tilted toward the sky. “We’re here together, which makes them beautiful to me. Besides, beauty is a relative concept. Which I’m quite sure you know.”

His quiet sigh, the gesture of surrender. Instead of trying to convince you of something he simply couldn’t convince you of, he just pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Fine, you win, my little relative concept.”

Already on the staircase, your melancholic mood vanished entirely as you pulled him into a kiss he couldn’t escape from. Not that he wanted to, but he had to — if he actually wanted to dig the key out of his pocket and let you both inside. So while your hands clung to the back of his neck, his fumbled through his pockets — the same ones, because he was far too distracted to remember which ones he’d already checked and which he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

“Can’t—”

“Find—”

“The key—”

Slipped from his lips in the few short moments they weren’t covered by yours. You couldn’t care less about his key struggles — you’d been away from him for months, and you fully intended to kiss him for every single time you’d wanted nothing more than exactly that, but had an ocean between you instead.

Eventually, Spencer gave up and fell silent, returning your kiss with his entire being, both of his hands cradling your cheeks perfectly. You wished your skin was made of plaster, able to preserve the shape of them on you forever. You heard his short, muffled whimper and cracked your eyes open, just enough to notice that his glasses were completely fogged up.

His glasses fogged white, his cheeks flushed pink.

You giggled at the sight, making his face match the color palette of his shirt even more. One of his hands slid down from your cheek and drifted toward the small pocket on his chest. “Found the key,” he announced.

It immediately slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a clatter.

His sigh, your next giggle, and both of you bending down at the same time.

A head collision and two groans.

You burst into open laughter and took full advantage of the fact that he was bent down, reaching for the key, to press a soft kiss to his hair—the very spot where you’d bumped heads. You left a trail of kisses along his head, wandering across his forehead, brushing the tip of his nose, slowly claiming his lips.

Meanwhile, he blindly fumbled with the key, trying to aim it at the lock without breaking the kiss for even a second.

You weren’t sure there’d be enough hours in the night to fully make up for all the time you’d been apart. Especially since you yourself still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. That you were seeing him again. Kissing him again.

Finally, after what felt like real, dragging hours and simultaneously exactly 4.24 light-years traveled in mere minutes—the sound of the lock turning.

[all-with-angel]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Diet Pepsi

...by Addison Rae

❥ ModernBf!Sukuna x Reader

Or how late nights at nowhere are spent with Sukuna.

❥ suggestive warning!

Made for Angels Birthday Event!

The hood of Sukuna’s car was still warm from the drive, but it wasn’t the metal beneath you that made your skin buzz - it was him.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked, breathless and half-dazed from the last kiss he’d pulled you into. His lips were still hovering near yours, like he was always seconds away from another. His arm was slung lazily around your waist, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. Greedy.

Sukuna scoffed, voice low as he rolls his eyes. Only for them to meet yours again. “You got a problem?”

“Quite the opposite.” you shot back, playful, even as your heart pounded like it was trying to escape your ribcage. You give him another quick peck, soft against your lips and far too short of a kiss than what he’d like. “You’re so cute when you smile.”

“Oh, please.” He leaned in again, mouth brushing yours as he mumbled, “I’m not the cute one here. Besides -” Sukuna grins, that sharp, canine smirk that reeked of danger. “You practically melt every time I look at you like this.”

“I do not -”

He kissed you mid-sentence, effectively shutting you up in the most unfair way possible. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, until your legs were tangled over his and you had no choice but to cling to him. You grumble into the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. You could practically feel his smirk grow as you two continued the kiss, heated and wanting to prove something. What were you trying to prove? You don’t know, and fairly don't care.

You shoved his shoulder gently when you finally came up for air. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only because you keep proving me right.” He looked so damn satisfied with himself, mostly because he knew he was right.

“Gods, you’re such a pain.”

“Yeah? And yet here you are, straddling me on my car in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Touché.”

He grinned, full and open and devastatingly pretty under the moonlight. You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, he leaned into the touch almost instinctively - humming at every motion. A mischievous smile graces your face as Sukuna closes his eyes, and you tug on his hair. A little harsh.

His crimson eyes snap open. “Oi!” Tone annoyed, yet there was still a reluctant smile in his sneer. “You keep doing that, and I’m gonna forget where we are.”

You tilted your head. “You mean the middle of nowhere? Where no one can see us?”

“Oh,” he said, eyes flashing. “So that was your plan.”

You smirked. "Maybe."

"Oh - You brat."

A.N. I need. I need to make out with him. I need to make out with him so bad

[paxaz535]

keep talking - pazzi

slow-burn, intimate, voice kink, emotional tension, and then soft smut.

—

paige had been restless all night.

it wasn’t the kind of restless that came from too much caffeine or leftover adrenaline from practice — this was something heavier. needier. a kind of tightness in her chest that made the sheets feel too cold and her apartment too big.

she’d tried everything — music, reading, stretching. nothing helped.

so she did what she always did when her body wouldn’t settle: she reached for azzi.

it started with a simple text.

you up?

the reply came almost instantly.

yeah. you okay?

that part made paige pause. azzi always asked that. even when it was late. even when it was clear the answer was “no.” she didn’t pry — she just asked.

call me?

the phone lit up before she could even put it down.

“hey,” azzi said, her voice low and soft like it had just crawled out from under a blanket. “what’s goin on?”

“i dunno,” paige admitted, curling onto her side. “couldn’t sleep.”

“me neither.” azzi’s voice had a little smile tucked in it. “maybe we’re just wired from practice.”

maybe. or maybe it was the way azzi said her r’s with that little rasp. or the way she always sounded so calm even when she wasn’t.

paige didn’t know when her voice had started doing this to her — making her feel warm and tight in places that had nothing to do with emotion. she just knew it was happening. again.

they talked for a while. about nothing and everything.

azzi told her a story about some teammate drama from last year that paige had never heard — a hilarious retelling of a fight over a stolen pair of socks and an awkward group dinner that followed.

paige laughed, genuinely, and loved how azzi did all the voices, even adding dramatic pauses for effect.

“—and then, bro,” azzi said, “she threw the breadstick at her. like deadass. flung it across the table.”

paige giggled, but her hand was already sneaking lower, slipping under the hem of the oversized t-shirt she’d thrown on after her shower. azzi’s voice had settled deep into her body now — not just something to listen to, but something she felt.

her thighs pressed together. a light squeeze. a shift of her hips.

“you’re not even laughing anymore,” azzi said after a beat. “did i lose you?”

“no, i’m—” paige cleared her throat. “i’m here. just… tired.”

azzi softened. “you wanna hang up and sleep?”

“no!” paige said quickly. “just… stay. talk more.”

azzi chuckled lightly. “you like my voice that much?”

god, yes.

but she just hummed, drawing a slow breath in through her nose.

“what should i talk about then?”

“doesn’t matter,” paige whispered. “just keep talking.”

azzi didn’t question it. didn’t push.

she launched into another story — this one about her mom calling her and listing every single thing she saw at the farmer’s market even though azzi wasn’t even in the same state.

paige listened, only half-hearing it. her eyes were closed now. her fingers moved slow under the waistband of her shorts, feather-light, just enough to chase that pressure that’d been building.

“—and then she goes, ‘azzi, they have homemade mustard, can you believe that?’ and i’m like, ‘yeah, mom, i’m literally in the middle of a workout right now.’”

paige let out a shaky breath.

it was so quiet she didn’t think azzi would hear it.

but she did.

“you good?”

“mhm,” paige said quickly, a little too breathy. “yeah. keep going.”

azzi hesitated this time. her voice dropped an inch.

“…you sure?”

paige swallowed. her hand stilled. she didn’t want her to stop talking. god, that would be worse than getting caught.

“m’fine,” she said, a little raspier now. “just tired. swear.”

azzi accepted it. or maybe she didn’t — but she let it go.

“okay,” she said gently. “then close your eyes and just listen, alright?”

and god. that tone.

that tone broke her.

paige whimpered — quiet, but it slipped out before she could stop it.

azzi stopped again.

“…paige?”

paige’s breath caught in her throat.

azzi was quiet for a few seconds. and then — her voice changed completely. lower. firmer.

“…wait.”

“are you—?”

paige didn’t answer.

that was the answer.

“you called me just to hear my voice while you…” azzi trailed off, a tiny laugh in the back of her throat. “jesus, p.”

paige bit her lip. she should’ve felt embarrassed, but her whole body was lit up — her skin was hot, her core pulsing. she wanted azzi to stay on the phone more than she wanted to breathe.

“i wasn’t gonna,” she said softly. “it just… happened. you sound too good.”

azzi exhaled into the phone. “fuck.”

there was a long pause.

“you still touching yourself?”

paige nodded even though she didn’t answer out loud.

“…good.”

the command in azzi’s voice made her whole body tense.

“put me on speaker.”

she did.

“spread your legs for me, baby.”

paige obeyed.

“now go slow. i wanna hear it this time.”

paige’s hand was already back between her legs before azzi even finished the sentence.

she was soaked now. breath coming out in soft, quick puffs. the sheets twisted beneath her as she adjusted, putting the phone on speaker and resting it beside her ear.

“good girl,” azzi said, and her voice was different now — thicker, rougher. still calm, still her, but drenched in something heavier.

“you’re such a mess, aren’t you?”

“you couldn’t even make it through a stupid story without getting needy.”

paige whimpered. her fingers rubbed slow circles, and she could already feel the edge close. embarrassingly close.

“is it my voice that does that to you?” azzi asked. “gets you all worked up like this?”

“yes,” paige whispered, barely able to speak. “god, yes…”

azzi hummed, pleased. “then let me give you something worth coming to.”

paige let out a shaky breath.

“slide your hand under,” azzi instructed. “middle finger. slow circles. soft. i want you to feel everything.”

paige obeyed, her hips arching into her own touch. the friction made her gasp.

“mhm. like that,” azzi encouraged. “don’t rush. we’re not doing that fast, messy shit right now. you’re gonna listen.”

paige swallowed, trying to hold it together.

“i wish i was there,” azzi went on, voice like velvet. “i’d pin your legs open and talk you through it. make you look me in the eye the whole time. no hiding. no squirming. just you — dripping wet, begging me to keep talking.”

paige’s moan was soft but desperate. she was close. too close.

“not yet,” azzi said, like she could hear it in her breath. “slow down.”

“z…” paige begged. “please—”

“i said slow.”

paige whined. her body was tense. her stomach fluttered. she was straddling the edge and aching for release.

“now,” azzi said softly, “tell me what it feels like.”

paige blinked hard, eyes fluttering closed. “warm. tight. so—so much…”

“you wanna come?”

“so bad,” paige whimpered. “please, z, i can’t—”

“then listen to my voice,” azzi said, dipping into a growl. “and don’t stop until i say so.”

paige’s whole body trembled.

“rub faster now. just a little. yeah, right there. you’re so close for me, aren’t you?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

“god, i can’t wait to see you like this in person. hear the real thing.”

“you’re gonna come so hard for me, baby.”

and that was it.

paige’s body tensed, her breath catching, and she came with a sharp cry, biting her lip to keep from being too loud — the sound of azzi’s voice still pouring through the speaker like a command in her bloodstream.

after, the room was quiet — the kind of quiet that felt safe. still. warm.

paige was panting softly, fingers still resting against herself, her chest rising and falling in slow, grateful waves.

“you good?” azzi asked, voice lighter now, but still tender. “need water?”

paige laughed weakly. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re the one who called me to get off to my voice.”

“…you’re not mad?”

“mad?” azzi scoffed. “paige, that was the hottest shit i’ve ever heard.”

paige smiled, flushed and content. “can we fall asleep on the phone now?”

azzi chuckled. “yeah, baby. i got you.”

[manariee]

ACT LIKE IT

𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝟬𝟰 ★ you have to make it believeable

enemy situationship (?) 박성훈 & fem!reader wc 522 ◜ᯅ◝ implied harrassment, implied situationship, mentions of drinking, slow burn-ish, tension

REBLOG4AKISS

MANA: a bit rushed but this may be the only fic before i dissapear for a week !!

The club was packed, you told yourself one night to yourself would be good. That your friends were right about a break.

Now your friends were long gone, phone had no signal, drink cup empty. And the last guy who got too close had made your skin crawl.

You were desperate - for ANY help.

So when you saw another one of those nasty drunk men walking over with a smug grin, you knew you had to think fast. You looked around EVERYWHERE for someone who you might've could've known would help. And there he is.

Park. Fucking. Sunghoon. Of all people.

The one guy who you swear lives to make your life miserable, sometimes in a good way, sometimes in worse. The one whose smirk you wanted to slap off his face. Most days..

You swallowed your pride and pushed your way through the crowd, his own brows furrowing the second he locked his eyes with yours.

''What?'' He asked flatly as you stopped in front of him.

''Pretend to be my boyfriend,'' you whispered, low and urgent, already grabbing his wrist.

Sunghoon blinked once, then twice.

''Are you drunk?''

You were taken aback before scoffing. ''What? No what the hell are you talking about?''

You then glanced back, spotting the guy from earlier then looked back at Sunghoon. ''Please.''

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed. You never said please to him. That alone made him pause.

He then glanced over to the guy and quickly tugged you closer to his chest.

''Is he still looking?'' you whispered.

''No,'' Sunghoon said. ''But he is walking over.''

You didn’t have time to process. Sunghoon turned to face you fully, tilted his head down - and wrapped both arms around your waist like he meant it.

''Look at me.'' he murmured low. ''If we're doing this, we're doing it right.''

You looked up - and suddenly you forgot how to breathe.

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. ''You owe me for this,'' he whispered, almost smug.

You almost shivered, though Sunghoon's eyes narrowed on the other man, his intense gaze scaring the guy away.

But you noticed the way his hands remained on you, for longer than necessary.

''You okay?'' he asked, snapping you out of whatever trance you were stuck in.

''Yeah.'' you answered back, heart beating so loudly you could hear it in your ears, and you just knew he could too.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. ''You look like you're about to combust. Didn't realize pretending would get you this worked up.''

''Shut up,'' you hissed. ''You're enjoying this.''

His grin turned downright devilish. ''Maybe. But I'll admit something-''

His hand cupped your jaw, tilted your head so you couldn't look away.

''You asking me for help?'' he murmurs. ''That’s kinda hot. And a bit cute.''

You turned and walked away before you could embarrass yourself further.

But your phone buzzed an hour later.

P.SH [DNI]: y'know if you ever need another boyfriend again..

P.SH [DNI]: what i mean is you can just walk over and kiss me

P.SH [DNI]: fuck it i'm coming over

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine @callikari @yuuuraaa @wondoras @koiiqqqq @orimuraa

NETS: @k-films

[suushiiii]

Sick girlfriend equals clingy girlfriend

Leah Williamson x Reader

Summary: Leah is sick, but doesn't admit it. But you notice, because she's being extra clingy.

Word count: 3k

You stirred awake, the sheets ruffling when you moved and the mattress dipped lower. You slowly opened your eyes, it was still dark outside and the only light that lit the room was the streetlamp outside, the light filtering through the curtain. You blinked the last bit of sleep from your eyes and looked beside you, but Leah wasn’t there.

You frowned and looked at the time on your phone and saw that it was 07:30. It was early, too early to be awake on a free day. You knew Leah, she wasn’t a morning person at all, so her waking up this early wasn’t like her. You laid in bed for a few more minutes, before slipping out and pulling one of Leah her sweaters over your head, and you headed to the hallway. Once you entered the kitchen, you saw Leah already there at the stove and stirring something in a pan.

Leah was humming a soft tune, moving her hips from the left to the right, a spatula in her hand. You leaned against the doorframe, an amused smile tugged at your lips as you watched your girlfriend dance to the song she was humming. You shook your head lightly, Leah hadn’t even acknowledged you and you tried to suppress a laugh.

“Well, isn’t this a sight to see.” You hummed in amusement and Leah yelped and practically jumped out of her skin, the spatula clattering on the ground and the pan nearly getting pushed off the stove, when Leah spun herself to meet you. “Jesus, y/n!” Leah yelled, breathing heavily and her hand on her chest. “A good morning is also a good way to greet me, you know?” You hummed again with a chuckle and pushed yourself off from the doorframe and crossed the small kitchen.

“How long have you been standing there?” Leah finally managed to ask, when her breathing had slowed and her heart rate was even again. “Not long.” You lied with a smirk and walked over to the stove, picking up the spatula from the ground as well. You started to hum the same tune Leah was humming just a few seconds ago and Leah widened her eyes, because she realized that you had watched that.

You heard a groan behind you, but quickly felt the arms of Leah around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder. She placed a kiss below your jaw and you leaned your head back against her shoulder. You tilted your head to the side and Leah her lips placed a kiss on your neck, while you let out a sigh and you felt Leah smirk just above your pulse.

“You are very clingy today.” You murmured with your eyes closed, your fingers tracing circles on Leah her knuckles that rested on your stomach. “I can’t show affection to my lovely girlfriend?” Leah questioned and pulled her head back, resting it on your shoulder once more. “You can, but you never do that in the morning.” You stated and turned in her arms, so you were facing her now and you brushed your nose against hers.

That was your first sign that something was up with Leah, because of her clinginess in the morning and getting out of bed early. You let it slide and got out of Leah her embrace. When you turned yourself to her, you saw her pouting at you, like a child who’s toy got taken away. “What’s with the pout?” You teased and touched Leah her arm gently. “You don’t want to hug.” Leah huffed, but the pout was still visible. “Le, I let you kiss my jaw and neck just a few seconds ago. That doesn’t scream hugging to you?” You asked and Leah only shook her head, taking a step closer to you, her hands finding your waist.

“No.” Leah mumbled into your shoulder, while you made gentle circles on her back with your hand. “We need to make breakfast.” You whispered into her hair, but Leah didn’t pull away, she just pulled you closer. “Breakfast can wait, hugging can’t.” You huffed softly, no annoyance behind, just amusement. “It’s the most important meal of the day.” Leah giggled softly at that, making you pull back and raising an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” You questioned, your hand ruffling the defender’s blonde locks.

“There is a meal far more delicious than any other.” Leah stated with a mischievous look in her eyes and kissed the corner of your mouth gently and long. “Leah!” You yelled, full with affection and pulled your head back again. “It’s not the time to think about sex right now, it’s too early.” You groaned and rested your head against hers, because now she had put that idea in your head. “What? There is always time.” Leah murmured and you looked at, really looked at and you saw something you couldn’t quite place.

“Okay miss charming, let’s make some breakfast first and then we’ll see.” You teased and moved to the counter and turned the stove on again, Leah moved to your side, your shoulders brush against each other every now and then. “Do you want coffee?” You nodded and flipped a pancake in the pan, while Leah walked to the coffee machine. “What do you want to do today?” You asked and turned your head over your shoulder, so you could look at Leah. “Maybe stay in, watch that series that you’ve been talking about?” Leah suggested and you frowned, because this was again something that Leah would never suggest, sit still.

“Leah, you just suggested to sitting still the whole day.” Your voice was filled with disbelief, but Leah only nodded. “I’m aware.” Leah hummed and took two coffee mugs from one of the cabinets and poured coffee into them. “You know that you can’t sit still, right?” You stated and put pancakes on the plates next to the stove, while Leah added milk and sugar to your coffee. The two of you sat down behind the counter, knees brushing lightly, Leah making a stupid joke, but she made them funny somehow.

Later in the day, the two of you had settled on the couch and as usual, you leaned your back against Leah her chest. One of Leah her arms was loosely wrapped around your waist, her hand was going through your hair. The tv was playing a series on Netflix, but you were the only one really watching. Leah had tried to watch it, but for her the light of the tv was too bright and the sound was too loud.

Every now and then, you felt weight on the top of your head, but left just as quickly. You smiled to yourself, because you knew that Leah was trying to stay awake, so you leaned back further into her body and Leah let you. After a few minutes, Leah started to doze off again, but she tried to stay awake. “Leah?” You whispered. You waited for a few seconds and called her name again, but there was still no response.

You turned your head to see her face, her eyes were half closed, her breathing was not normal and her forehead glistened with sweat. “Le.” You whispered and nudged her side with your elbow. It took a few nudges, but by the fourth, Leah shot awake and yelled something about what happened in the series.

“Easy love, you missed the whole episode where that scene appeared in.” You said softly, your hand finding hers and you intertwined your fingers together. “I missed a whole episode?” Leah asked with a groan and leaned with her head back against the couch. “It’s okay, the girl dumped the dumb guy for the hot biker girl.” You assured her and patted her with your free hand on her knee.

“The guy was dumb indeed.” Leah said with a giggle and pulled you closer by your waist. “Who asks a girl that has zero interest in art, to go on a date to an art museum?” Leah stated in disbelief, earning a soft laugh from you. Leah her eyes met yours, asking silently what’s so funny. “What? You missed the whole episode, but you are way too invested into it.” You giggled and Leah groaned again, as she buried her face into your neck.

“What did the girl and the biker girl do?” Leah murmured against your neck, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “They went on a bike ride, took a walk in the forest and found a silent place to talk and other things.” You hummed, hoping that you wouldn’t spoil too much. “That’s it? No sex on a first date? Or even a kiss?” You shook your head and giggled softly again.

You were about to respond, but when Leah pressed her forehead against yours, you felt it. Leah her head was warm, too warm. “You’re hot Leah.” You breathed out and Leah hummed in satisfaction. “Thank you, y/n/n. I think you’re very hot as well.” You shook your head once more and moved your hand to Leah her head, feeling the warmth radiating off her. “No, no. I don’t mean ‘hot”’, I mean you are, but you are hot, like burning up hot.” You pulled your hand back, seeing that Leah her eyes were tired, even though she had woken up from a nap just a few moments ago.

“It’s nothing, probably because of the blanket.” Leah pointed out, not really caring what you just said. “You want something to drink?” Leah stood up, stretching herself and you were stunned. “Leah, you were (are) burning hot!” You practically yelled, not out of frustration or anger, but out of care and worry. “You have called me hot in the last 2 minutes, you should do it more often.” Leah said with a smirk and patted barefoot to the kitchen, leaving you on the couch, stunned.

You took a second, before standing up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. Once you reached the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, Leah was moving, but it was slow and not as sharp as she usually is. “Do you want coffee or tea?” Leah turned to face you, her forehead was again glistering from the sweat, her lips dry and she swallowed more than she needed to.

You knew Leah was stubborn, so she definitely wouldn’t admit that she was sick and you hated it. You also knew that Leah hated to lean on others, because she acts like a captain on the field and off it. You shook your head and sighed lightly, before walking towards the counter and leaning against it. “Leah-” You started, but before you could continue, Leah her voice cut you off. “Did I snore?” You blinked and then again, taking off guard by her sudden question.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your brows furrowed in confusion. “During my nap. Did I snore?” Leah asked again, turning around and facing you once more. You thought back and yes, she did snore. It clicked in your mind. Leah had a blocked nose, making her breath through mouth during her nap. “Eummh, you did a little, but not loudly.” Your voice wasn’t teasing like usual, but it was filled with worry and concern. “Please tell me you didn’t record it?” Leah groaned and you shook your head to assure her that you hadn’t recorded her.

Leah let out a relieved sigh, taking a sip from her coffee. “Are you cooking tonight or am I?” You shrugged, because you didn’t mind who cooked. “We could also order take out, there is this new restaurant I wanted to try.” Leah stated and you just nodded along, because if you would talk, you knew your words were going to be: “Leah, you’re sick”, but you swallowed them.

“Yeah, we can order food in.” You said with a smile, that didn’t reach your eyes. “Yes!” Leah cheered and stepped towards you, kissing you softly on your lips. You smiled against her lips and pulled her into a hug, after you pulled away from the kiss, the worry never leaving your body, but you pressed it down for now.

Later that evening, your worry only grew, because Leah had started to cough uncontrollably. Leah constantly shrugged it off, saying that it’s just from the night earlier, when the window had been open. Your worry was now mixed with frustration, because Leah was just too damn stubborn to admit that she was sick.

After dinner, Leah her plate was still full, the glass with her favorite wine was untouched and Leah had wrapped herself up in a thick sweater and blanket. The two of you had settled on the couch once more, but this time, Leah sat in front of you and leaned against your chest. You both didn’t say anything, it was a comfortable silence, but the tension was quietly creeping in from the corners of the room. The lights were off, the only light came from the kitchen, because Leah groaned when you turned the bright living room lights on when you settled on the couch an hour ago.

The only sound came from the cars passing outside the apartment and the soft humming of the fridge. Leah had let her head rest on your shoulder the minute you sat down and it was now an hour later, her head still on your shoulder, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Her breathing was still uneven through her mouth, her head still burning hot against the side of your neck. Your hand was tangled in her hair and every now and then you placed a kiss on her head, and Leah would sigh at that.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes, before Leah her voice filled the quiet living room. “I’m tired,” She started, her voice hoarse and full of sleep, your hand stilled in her hair. “my head and throat hurts, and to top it all off, I’m sweating like I’m in a sauna.” Leah finished with a whine and you only hummed, finally relieved that Leah let her stubbornness fall. “I think I’m sick.” You blinked, because of the words ‘I think’. “You think?” You finally said, with a bit of disbelief, that Leah thought she was sick.

“Why do you say it like that?” Leah groaned and tilted her head to meet your eyes, in the dark room. “No reason.” You said softly and Leah her eyes narrowed, observing you, before speaking again. “You knew I was sick, didn’t you?” You only nodded with your head and you heard another groan leave your girlfriends throat. “Yes I did.” You said, your eyes softened when you looked at her. Without saying anything, Leah straddled your lap and buried her face into your neck again.

“Leah.” You groaned, knowing that Leah wouldn’t move anytime soon. Leah hummed softly, while your hands found Leah her hips instinctively, pulling her closer. “Leah, you’re burning hot and sweating.” You said with a sigh and Leah pulled back with a smirk. “Three.” You raised an eyebrow when Leah said that, confusion filling your eyes. “Three, what?” You asked hesitantly, not knowing what to expect what Leah her answer would be.

“It’s the third time, in-” Leah started, but stopped and looked at the clock on the wall. “third time in 5 hours that you’ve called me hot.” Leah said with a giggled, moving a little in your lap. “Seriously, you kept count?” You tried to keep your voice steady, but failed miserably when you laughed softly. “Of course, it’s not everyday that my girlfriend calls me hot.” Leah her lips were in a satisfied smirk and you shook your head, kissing the top of her nose.

“You are unbelievable.” You muttered, running one of your hands through your hair. “But you love me.” Leah said simply, her hands (sweaty) resting on your neck. “That’s debatable.” You teased and Leah gasped dramatically at that. “That hurt, you hurt your sick girlfriend?” Leah pouted and you just smirked at her, trying to move her from her lap, but Leah didn’t move.

“Leah, it’s late and I have training tomorrow.” You said with a sigh, but Leah still didn’t move. “You’re going to make me carry you to the bedroom, aren’t you?” You asked and Leah her eyes lit up at your question. “Now that you mention it.” Leah smirked, dragging out the ‘it’. “Fine.” You muttered, but the smile on your lips stayed.

You slipped your hands under Leah her thighs and stood up, taking a second to balance the new weight that you needed to carry. Leah wrapped her legs around your waist and buried her face into your neck again, while you moved gently to the bedroom with your very sick and clingy girlfriend in your arms. You moved to the hallway and nudged the already open door with your foot, to open the door more.

Once you had reached the bed, you gently laid Leah down, like she was something fragile, like glass. You tucked her in and moved to your side of the bed, slipping off your slippers and sliding in the bed, pulling the covers over yourself. You hadn’t settled fully and Leah was already clung to your side, her legs taggled with yours under the covers, her hand finding yours and she settled her head on your chest. “You are very clingy when you’re sick.” You murmured into her hair and Leah giggled and tightened her free arm around your waist.

“Well, you know the saying: ‘sick girlfriend equals clingy girlfriend’.” You let out a huff, not with annoyance, but from amusement. “Leah, you just made that saying up.” You stated dryly, placing a kiss on Leah her forehead. “It should be a saying, so the whole of London is alarmed.” You laughed softly and pulled Leah closer. “Please, just promise me when you are sick again in the future, you tell me, so I can take care of you.” You whispered into her hair.

Leah only hummed softly, already drifting off to sleep. You, on the other hand, stayed awake a bit longer, listening to Leah her breathing. She hummed a few things in her sleep, but eventually sleep took over and you drifted off to sleep as well, Leah her head still on your chest and your hands intertwined together.