#something to play while getting cozy with blankets

[ashthesalamipiece]

Okay so I've been thinking bout this for a while how about a request where eri is like a bit older (12 or sum) and like you and Bakugo are downstairs in the common room cuddling on the couch while watching a movie with all the boys of the class cuz the girls went out shopping and you weren't feeling well that morning and suddenly all the laughter get's interrupted by a panicked eri and everyone get's worried and she says I'm bleeding and everyone get's worried and is like omg how and where and she's just whispers to reader that she found blood in her undies and reader tells her that she got her first period and like gives her all the things she needs (pads, heating bottle, snacks ect) I hope that this request isn't too long btw only if your comfortable!!

“A Little Growing Up”

The girls had all gone out shopping, and you'd stayed behind in the dorms — feeling a little under the weather, but content to just snuggle into the couch with Bakugo, who had surprisingly decided to stay back too. Maybe he just didn't want to admit he enjoyed the quiet time with you — especially when he got to have you leaning into his chest with a warm blanket thrown over both of you.

The rest of the guys had gathered around the common room too, scattered across beanbags and the floor, shouting over the movie that was playing — a chaotic action film that had no plot but plenty of explosions. It was noisy, rowdy, and honestly a little hilarious.

Suddenly, the laughter was cut short by the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs.

"Eri?" Midoriya blinked, noticing the usually soft-spoken girl rushing into the room with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Everyone froze as Eri stood near the edge of the common room, eyes flicking nervously around. She was wringing her hands, pale and clearly distressed.

“I– I think something’s wrong,” she said, voice trembling.

Bakugo sat up immediately. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I–” Eri’s voice dropped to a whisper as she stepped closer to you. “C-can I talk to you? Alone? Please…”

Without hesitation, you slid off the couch, squeezing Bakugo’s hand quickly before guiding Eri toward the hallway for some privacy. She clung to your arm, shoulders shaking just a little.

Once you were out of earshot, you knelt down gently in front of her. “Hey… it’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I… I went to the bathroom and there was b-blood. In my underwear,” she whispered, eyes wide with fear. “I didn’t fall, and it doesn’t hurt, but I don’t know why…”

You blinked once, and then the realization settled in. Oh.

“Oh, sweet girl,” you said softly, offering her a warm smile. “You just got your first period.”

Eri blinked. “I… what?”

You reached out, gently squeezing her hand. “It’s something that happens when your body starts growing up — it means you’re becoming a young woman. It’s totally normal, I promise. You’re not hurt, okay?”

Her lip wobbled. “But… it’s scary.”

“I know it is the first time,” you said, brushing some hair out of her face. “But I’ve got you. Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll give you everything you need. You’re going to be just fine.”

You brought her upstairs and set her up with a small starter kit: pads from your drawer, a cozy hoodie, a heating pad you warmed up just for her, a few snacks (chocolate and crackers, because that’s the law), and a water bottle.

When you came back down, the guys all looked anxiously your way — Todoroki was fidgeting with the remote, Kaminari had paused the movie, and Bakugo was halfway to coming upstairs to check on you both.

“She okay?” Kirishima asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“She’s okay,” you said with a small smile. “Just… growing up.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, putting the pieces together immediately. “Ah… Got it.”

Midoriya turned pink. “O-oh! Um! Right! Should we… do something?”

“Nah,” you said with a chuckle. “She’s resting now. Just be nice and keep it chill. Maybe hold off on the blood-and-guts action movies for a bit, yeah?”

“We could put on the frog princess one,” Sero offered. “She likes that one.”

“Perfect.”

You returned to the couch, snuggling back under the blanket with Bakugo, who wrapped an arm around you again without a word — just a subtle squeeze, his own way of saying good job.

And when Eri came back down a little later, freshly changed and wrapped in your hoodie, she was greeted not with awkwardness, but with her favorite movie already playing, a warm spot on the couch, and a whole room of boys who would — quietly, respectfully — do anything to make her feel safe.

[musubiki]

lime hearing theres gonna be an awesome meteor shower visible from the capitols outskirts and hatching a whole plan to take mochi on a stargazing date. hes over there pulling all the stops, bringing pillows and blankets and a pop-up mattress, (somewhat) forcefully getting taffy to lend him his truck, bringing snacks and picnic dinner, the whole time thinking "Hehe, the perfect date idea. She's gonna eat this shit up and fall in love with me no problem."

but then of course like a hundred other people had the same genius idea as him so the location has tons of people. including the other guild members. (he didnt tell them where he was taking mochi so they couldnt follow him. by coincidence they also went to the same place. maybe not coincidence, limes idea for a spot isnt exactly a hidden location)

[thetabbybadger]

How come my cat will be peacefully snoozing nowhere near me, but then if I move the tiniest bit so that I’m comfier he suddenly must be awake and jumping on the table and knocking things down? :(

[yanderenightmare]

The Four Seasons as Boyfriends

♡ AN: from the Promptlist

♡ TW: nsfw and fluff, really soft yandere, if yandere at all

♡ GN reader

Autumn is always half awake but never fully asleep. 

In the morning, he likes pairing coffee with a smoke out on the balcony—standing shirtless, black tattoos on his pale skin, despite the cold wind, watching the sun rise, sporting tousled hair and dark sunken eyes. 

He spends his days more or less the same way. There’s a briskness in the breeze and rain every other day, and all the leaves have turned shades of brown and orange, matting the ground in wet heaps, leaving the trees to look like skeletons. He likes going for short walks just before the sun goes down, when the sky is a warm pink and there ain’t a soul to be seen, and it feels like the two of you are the only people who’ve stayed behind before the apocalypse came.

At night, he’ll stay up late, watching Halloween movies with you in his arms, drinking something stronger than coffee, and smoking something different than cigarettes. He’ll never flinch when the gory scenes play. He’ll just run his thumb up and down your arm and hold you close with a low chuckle.

He’s a quiet guy who spends his time observing more than talking, a real philosopher, writing down things on this old typewriter he has, anything from crime novels to other horrific things. He’s somewhat grim that way—you think he might have been a mob boss in his previous life. 

But he’s got this dry-humored side as well, and a romantic one too—one that whispers awfully heart-gripping things to you in bed, gives you small gifts on all your anniversaries. Half-mast dark eyes without a smile on his lips, bringing your palm up for a kiss. 

Maybe it wasn’t a past life, you think, maybe he’s a vampire who’s been plenty of things. Come to think of it, you’ve only ever seen him outside when the sun has been safely hidden behind a veil of grey clouds. You don’t know, he just seems like he’s come from another age in the way he’ll treat every day like something to be enjoyed slowly, every moment together to be savored, and every detail of your face something to be not just remembered but cherished.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Megumi, Toji, Yuuta, Choso, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Tomioka, Genya ♡ HxH – Chrollo, Illumi, Feitan

Winter wants to spend all his days inside, wrapped up with you in bed like a bear in hibernation. You have to all but fight your way out of his hold in order to get up. 

He groans when you leave, whimpering at the cold, but eventually, he musters up enough willpower to follow you. He’ll have the duvet wrapped around him still, slippers padding towards the smell of breakfast. He’s still sleepy until he gets a good, warm cup of chocolate coffee. 

Clad in a warm blue sweater, pilled from wear, but cozy still, and a pair of baggy corduroys and fuzzy socks in all sorts of colors. 

He’s super reluctant about leaving the house—will literally find any excuse not to and do anything to avoid having to. He’ll stand in the mudroom with you like an obstinate brat as you dress him, putting on his scarf, hat, and gloves for him before pulling him into his jacket. 

He’s pouty at first, whining about his nose freezing, but after a while, he gets more than happy-go-lucky in the snow. Acting just like a dog, bounding about, tackling you down, and rolling around with you so that you’re both sure to catch a cold. 

You build a snowman together, make angels, and a little igloo where he’s deadset on the two of you sleeping tonight. Yeah, not likely, is all you think, knowing him and how the minute the two of you get home, he’s going to hunker down with all the duvets and blankets he can find and cry about how he’s never going outside again. 

And sure enough, the two of you trudged home, freezing cold and exhausted from all the frivolity, he in a whiny mood. You enter the shower together, and he just stands there, arms around you, draping you with his entire body under the water, defrosting. 

Like before, you end up doing things for him. Shampooing the sweat out of his hat-hair and soaping the rest of him up, then doing yourself the same way.

He’s just as clingy when you’re done. Dressed in fluffy robes, he’ll hold you close on his lap and put on a Christmas movie, something funny, something for children, The Grinch or Home Alone, or a romcom you’ve watched a thousand times before.

He’ll eat gingerbread men instead of dinner, drink one too many cups of eggnog, and tell you how he wants to curl up inside your heart where it's nice and toasty and stay there forever—meanwhile, his hand explores your naked body under your robe.

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Toaya, Hawks, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Hinata, Tanaka, Kuro, Lev, Bokuto, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma, Zenitsu ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Spring is an early bird. Big breakfast spreads every day, wild flowers on the table in a hand-painted coffee mug, toasted bread with a dozen types of spreads, sliced meat, cheese, scrambled eggs, different jams, strawberry, peach, blueberry, apricot, raspberry, and all the currants.

He’s always got a big goofy smile on his face, wearing baggy dongeries and bright pastel-colored T-shirts—green, pink, yellow, and blue. His hair is fluffy, his eyes are round, and he’s always got a new pair of suede sneakers on.

He’d make a great dad, having the personality of a guy who’s a kindergarten teacher, the way he’s all about DIY easter decorations. He has his own craft cart, fully equipped with different colored paper, patterned tape, and glitter in all pretty colors.

He’s never been a very traditional guy, always raving about new ideas, dreams he’s had, things he’s seen when scrolling through Pinterest—you can't hope to keep up...

Your walls have all been painted—not like other walls—but as if the wallpaper were canvas. All your chairs have been bought at yard sales and other second-hand stores, refurbished by him, and hand-painted in different colors with cushions in different fabrics. Your coffee table is an old wine crate he found at a junkyard. All your blankets are knitted with spare yarn from all his other projects.

He also scrapbooks like no other, filling the pages with receipts and tickets he’s saved from your outings and vacations, and Polaroid pictures he’s taken of you, with dates and locations written along the white bottom.

Not to mention, how in the kitchen window, he’s hung the empty egg husks from breakfast, decorated with swirls and dots, with letters spelling Happy Easter!

He also makes you love letters—indulgent paragraphs with an overwhelming amount of love-bombing and hopes and dreams about your future together, always with the wording of a five-year-old child talking about their favorite type of food. 

Yeah, he’s no poet, but it’s the thought that counts, and so A for effort!

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji ♡ HQ – Hinata, Sugawara, Bokuto, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei, Umemiya

Summer is tan with tan lines from his swimming trunks. He’s all smiles and loud laughter, too careless for shades and sunscreen, and so you’re the one who’s left running after him when he sprints towards the water, like a parent, shouting at him to put on some protection.

He filled the cooler up with sodas and beers before you left home, and has brought along firelighters, making a bonfire on the sand for grilled fruits, vegetables, and meats, so that the two of you can spend the day.

His hair is sun-damaged and bleached with saltwater, but he makes it look good with his freckled face, looking as though he lives on the beach. He’ll go in the water several times, never tiring.

He likes to promenade in flip-flops like he’s on constant vacation,  always shirtless, letting his swim-trunks dry while the two of you walk along the shore as the sun gets low, giving you his sweater once the air gets a little chilly. Making plans for how you can fill the rest of the summer. 

He’s got never-ending ideas, you don’t think you’ll have time for it all—hiking, biking, camping, festivals, outdoor movies, picnics, farmers markets, berry picking, kite flying, ice cream, gardening, going diving, sailing, fishing, hot air balloons, parachuting, bungee jumping, skydiving—yeah, his ideas get progressively more extreme as he goes.

But at home, when he’s all drained out from the sun, he’s a quiet presence. Warm still, but calm, lining up pretty seashells and dried-up corals along all the windowsills, before the two of you hit the shower. Washing off salt and sweat, and about a bucket's worth of sand that remains between the cracks in the tiles.

He’ll leave kisses against your neck and shoulder, murmur things in a voice you don’t recognize from the day, but a grainier one belonging to the night, telling you all the dirty things he’s going to do to you now that the sun’s fully down.

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Touya, Hawks, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji ♡ HQ – Hinata, Sugawara, Tanaka, Kuro, Lev, Bokuto, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira, Shido ♡ WB – Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[chicksmoothie]

• Lovedrunk — mingi

Pairing: bf!mingi x gf!reader

— Mingi and you finally decide to move in together, but truth to be told you didn’t have time for each other more than for the basics. This means you are desperate to spend time just enjoying the other’s company (and fuck, and well, it shows)

! Long fuck fic

! based on Say it like you mean it characters but not mentioning its plot

W/C: ~4.8K

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, madly in love

Warnings: +18, mdni (seriously), cursing (a lot), dirty talking (another lot), teasing, edging, slight possessive behaviour (from both parts), breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, honestly this is a kink compilation, raw sex (you know you shouldn’t), needy mingi & needy reader, both vibing in the same horny kind of tune, pure hornyness, dry humping, a lot of spit, oral (f receiving), making out, multiple orgasms and therefore overstim, squirting, switch dynamics (rather bratty power bottom reader x service top mingi but also kind of switching so idk?), filming, this counts as a warning too cos really madly in love should be a warning, let me know if I forgot something i hope not cos this warnings are longer than the fic already

A/N: at the end

Also: this oneshot is fiction and in no way aims to portrait anyone involved in the story

Taglist: @i01233 @tinie03 @thesupreme316 @esmedelacroix thanks for waiting ♡

His scent was all over the room after taking a shower. His arm still a bit humid and warmer than usual had you hugged close to him under the blanket. And you couldn’t see it well since it was dark in the room, but the red and white highlights flashing from the tv painting his beautiful profile and the screen reflecting on his glasses had you totally distracted.

you were trying so hard to focus on the anime you decided to watch together. You were so, so trying it…

But the way his casual and cozy look caught your breath each time you had the chance to see it since you moved in together had no hopes in changing, ever.

It had been some time since you had had a quality time and chill night together due to hectic schedules at work and all the move in process, so now that the stars aligned and you had the same days off you wanted it to be as actually chill as possible and restricted every single dirty thought about pulling his glasses off and kiss him to start with.

If only his fingers were not playing with yours under the blanket. If only his shampoo wasn’t the same as yours and you didn’t weirdly get off to that because it meant you were actually living together. If only you weren’t so pent up after nearly a week without seeing each other for anything else but eating and sleeping if you were lucky.

If only you didn’t feel your heart skip a beat every time he chuckled when he found something funny happening in the anime that you were totally not watching.

If only you didn’t love him so fucking much.

Mingi turned his face your way while still smiling to check if you found the scene as funny as he did.

And you will never know what he saw on your face at this very moment, but his smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in only one second. “What’s up babychick? You don’t like the series?”

He knew exactly what was up, but he chose to play dumb for a moment. “Yes, yes, i am loving it,” you recovered quickly from your trance ”it is so interesting” and decided to play along. You smiled, lovingly, not showing how sarcastic you were actually being and on the contrary making it sound as genuine as possible.

You turned your face to the screen just in time to catch a smirk slowly growing on his face. He wanted to play? This you could do it. No problem at all.

—

The voices coming from the tv were white noise and ambient sound at this point. You had been silent since your little conversation earlier, but no words were needed when both of you were anticipating what was going to happen. You knew each other already, so you could tell that Mingi was getting impatient by how he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His tease was backfiring completely and all he could think about was him eating you out, but he didn’t want to lose just yet.

It all started to get complicated for him with you pulling up slightly at the hem of his shirt and placing your hand on his lower stomach pretending you were looking for some kind of warmth, your hand was cold you said. Sneaky girl… and eventho his breath hitched for one millisecond he continued with your little edging game.

He put his hand over yours, saying that by doing so it would warm up quicker. And it could have been an innocent gesture if only he wasn’t tracing random forms and decorating your fingers in suggestive caresses. Fucking tease… Good thing someone died in the anime in this exact moment, that way your little pout could pass as unbothered.

But you were bothered. Both of you were since long ago. All the second intentions behind the caresses, all the low whimpers you could hear from one another at every single touch and trying to contain yourselves from just lose it all and finally fuck were agonizing at this point.

You knowing he was already half hard and that your hand was dangerously close to his crotch but intentionally not daring to touch him wasn’t easy.

Him knowing you were probably already soaking through the grey leggins you used as a pijamas and he had done nothing but sit beside you and hug you yet was even less easy. How bad would it be when he got started…

You realizing the hands you originally had interlaced under the blanket were now somehow resting on your tit made you sigh.

Him realizing that your nipple was perking out and begging to be pinched, squeezed, bitten, sucked and anything possible was almost unbearable.

You and him panting quietly, suffocating in the tension that you both had slowly been creating by doing nothing but know that you wanted each other very, very badly.

You were also getting impatient, so you decided to push his buttons further and you knew exactly how. Without saying a word, you broke your cozy (yet hot) hug to slowly get up the sofa. “Where are you going?” His voice was husky and a little pouty because of your sudden distance. “I am sleepy, I think I am going to be-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you down, placing you on his lap right over his hard bulge. Both of you moaned at the contact. God he was harder than you thought he would be. This rilling up game was going to be one of your favorites… “stop with the teasing, you win” you smiled in victory “i always win” well, he had to agree on that.

As soon as you leaned in to take his glasses off and give him the long awaited kiss both of you were a panting mess already. The kiss was slow and nasty, drinking in each other as if you had been wandering in a desert for ages and just found a fountain.

His hands were gripping your hips hard, knuckles white and head empty, bucking up every time you grinded your pussy along his dick through your clothes. The friction so good you could cum from just that after all the built up tension, your fingers tangled in his shirt and pulled to bring him even closer. You had the feeling that he had been too far from you for too long, otherwise you wouldn’t be this extremely horny, so needy for his touch and his skin on yours already.

“I need this out of the way” you pulled his shirt off slowly, taking your time on the motion, then yours went after, both ending rumbled on the floor.

You had to take a second to admire his topless figure under you, the dim light of the tv outlining his strong figure, and you looked at him with real adoration written in your eyes “my hand is cold again…” you bit your lip shyly, putting your hand back on his lower tummy as you had done earlier, but this time you traced the pattern of his slightly defined torso up to his chest, both hands meeting at his back and feeling his wide shoulders with featherlike touches.

“You are gonna be the end of me babe, you doing this on purpose?” his head rested on the back of the sofa, eyes lidded, tensing under your light touch and waiting impatiently for you to snap and continue what had already started.

You looked at him with such a fake surprised expression, “what do you mean? I am only admiring my pretty boyfriend” and you knew what you calling him pretty would do to him.

“I thought the game ended” he growled, eyes now on the roof and his adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing a moan at the praise “yes, and I won, so I am going to savor my price” you leaned back and took his chin to make him look at you “see how I am already? You made me wet through my pijamas, anything to say about that??”

He looked down where your leggins were indeed as soaked as he had imagined, the dark patch too close to his cock for his brain to not malfunction. “I am going to fuck you so good babychick you wont be going out of bed in three working days” that you didn’t see it coming. He was never so aggressive from the beginning, but he was in such a horny state his hands were already shaking in your hips.

“Please let me eat you out” you moaned at his begging “its all I can think about” he closed his eyes and sighed just at the thought of your dripping cunt smearing his face and your sweet flavor filling his mouth. “You are so needy…” you said and he nodded slowly and deadly serious “only for you”.

One of his hands run up to your back, the other one still gripping your hip tightly. Your boy was so strong and so big it took him zero effort to stand up carrying you on top of him. “You wanted to go to bed yeah?” You grinned “I knew you would get the hint at some point”

He had been between your legs for two orgasms already. His face a dripping mess and his thumb circling your clit slowly compared to the quick pace his tongue had set on you. Slurping, moaning in your cunt, drawing random patterns in your inner thighs with his free hand to feel your soft skin somehow. He was fucking the mattress to get some kind of friction for himself although he could cum untouched by just the sound of your moans and the way you pushed his head impossibly close to you.

The overstimulation of cumming twice with just his mouth was torture but you couldn’t think about pushing him away, that would be worse. “My girl likes to go wild with overstim?” He slurped up a drop of your cum, pulling out his tongue to show you your own creamy arousal “you think you are stretched out for me already my love?”

You couldn’t take this any longer, having him inside was your top priority in this moment so you grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up as he moaned in pleasure due to the sudden pain while you cried “mingi, pants off” you were already naked, but he had still these black home sweatpants that normally drove you crazy but in this moment drove you mad.

He obliged and pulled them down, revealing that he had no boxers on and letting his dripping cock spring out, red, all veins on display and you swore to god you had never seen him this hard in all the time you had been together.

You were already salivating… the stretch of his cock was always good, but this time.. oh my god you couldn’t imagine it, you had to have it.

Wide open on your bed, waiting for him to put the condom on and his dick to finally fill you up, anticipating that stretch you were aching for with little whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

And he knew it.

He was sliding his tip along your entrance, covering the condom in your slick and his own spit after his make out session with your pussy. “mingi, fuck off…” you were desperate for him “baby I really want to slam in, but I have to put it in slowly” this was half true given his size and half him getting revenge for his loss, but you were not having it.

You were always the winner for a reason: whatever he did you took it further.

You rose your hips and pushed against the tip. finally, finally opening yourself for him inch by inch. You couldn’t see it because you had closed your eyes at the feeling, but he kept them wide open in a completely fucked out expression, savoring the sight of your relaxed face for having him inside you at good fucking last.

Mingi tried, but he couldn’t keep your slow pace until the end and bottomed out in one go, gasping and falling over you, completely worn out already. “god, fuck, mingi” After a few seconds of both of you adjusting to the feeling he started moving, his body still flush against yours, he didn’t bear thinking about being the slightest bit apart from you and not feel you tense, squirm and tremble underneath him. Your sweat making it easier for you to meet his movements as if you were water.

“God…Your pussy hugs me so good baby, I love it. My fucking girl… you are mine, yeah? Answer me baby please…” and he sounded as he really needed you to give a response to that question, eyes shut and forehead pressed against yours. “Mingi…” you cupped his face with both your hands to kiss him “i am yours” you whispered between his lips and dragged your fingers to his hair to pull slightly.

His beautiful reaction every time you did so made you clench around him, making him open his eyes in shock at the sudden tightness and turning his growls even deeper.

He pretended he wasn’t, but he was so needy and so clingy. So lovedrunk for you that you saying that you belonged to him had him already close to cumming.

“There is no other one for you either” you looked at him in the eyes through your lashes, pulling off your best sultry face, “you are mine too, say it” he was shuddering, loving the way you demanded his response, bossing him around from underneath him as if the one being fucked to the brim wasn’t you.

You had him so in the palm of your hand he wouldn’t mind you closing it and crush him, how could he answer anything else than that? “I am yours baby… fuck…” and that made you giggle.

“Thanks” you pecked his lips, hugging him around his neck, legs around his waist pushing him deeper and earning a low moan from him, “baby I really won’t last today”, and it was a given since you had been fucking each other really since the moment you sat on the sofa this afternoon, “so take it easy on me and behave yeah?” he was fucking you slow, the way he knew you liked it. The way he could fill you completely and leave no single untouched spot inside you. But also the only way he would be able to keep going for a while.

And just because you were dying to see him lose his mind completely were you determined to do everything you knew he loved at the same time. Pressing kisses all over his neck till you reached his earlobe and bit it, “I am behaving right? I am being so good today, what you gonna give me, hm?”

He was panting heavily, eyes shut, both his hands at each side of your head, the vision so good and his dick so deep you nearly started crying at the unbearable thrill.

But you decided to slowly move your arms down from his neck to interlace one of his hands with your own instead. Your other hand landed on your lips, tongue full of spit ready to coat your fingers in your saliva and leaving a string behind once you finished with the task, never breaking the eye contact.

Mingi couldn’t win against you being a dirty brat, but he had even less chances of winning against your hand going down where your bodies met to push one of your soaked fingers inside your cunt, stretching you even more but making it even tighter for him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes were silently asking you if you were being fucking for real right now. And oh my god you were, so fucking for real that you started moving your finger slowly inside you and rubbing his dick on your way, moaning loud and grabbing his hand tightly, needing to hold onto something for how good it was feeling for you too.

“Fuuuuuuuuck….” Fuck it, he really didn’t stand a chance from the beginning “I am gonna cum, where do you want it? Tell me babe I won’t last much more” he knew that you loved to feel his cum all over you and you were already trembling, so close yourself.

You couldn’t imagine him pulling out from you right now nor for too long, this past weeks without any intimate contact at all were working hard on you so you didn’t have to think it twice “mingi please… cum inside”

He could never have figured you would say that, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thought about how to answer.

“Raw baby?” He finally asked with a cry, just to make sure he was understanding it right “please…” your affirmation whisper froze him and made him almost nut on the spot.

He slowly carried on with the roll of his hips, struggling with the pace while the only thing on his mind was to piston fuck you into the bed after what you had asked him to do “you can’t say shit like that”. He was struggling, gritting his teeth and he really wanted to obey but you would regret this tomorrow, this had been said in the heat of the moment, or at least this is what he was telling himself in order not to breed you full.

But you blinked, you fucking innocently blinked pretending to be surprised, knowing how bad he wanted it and quickly slid your sticky hand out of your cunt and between your bodies to push him off and pull him out “but I can tho”.

In one swift motion and in a record time you took the condom off, tossed it somewhere on the floor and aligned his pulsing cock inside you again, painfully slowly sinking him in as you watched his face contort in pure ecstasy by the contact of your wet walls around him for the first time in months using protection.

Nothing could describe the way he felt about having you split open and raw underneath him, completely his to take. You put your arms around his neck, dragging him down to look him in the eyes again as you always liked to watch him when he reached his climax “now you can cum baby” your voice was merely a whisper, small but commanding “i will look so good with your cum dripping out later”.

And that was it. Something animalistic took over him and he started to move rougher, faster and more desperate than he ever had .

“Yeah?? You want to be full of my cum that bad??” His voice deep in the crook of your neck sending shivers through your whole body. Shit, you wanted to see his face!! but you were feeling so good at the way he thrusted into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit each time he went back inside, that you couldn’t be arsed complaining about it.

“Not enough with having me ballsdeep inside you that you also want to keep me there after I pull out??” He was testing the waters, trying to find out if he could say what he actually wanted to. But your loud moan at his words told him that he could carry on and so he did.

“You want me here?” you were far gone, dripping from your pussy to the bed and your skin burning, goosebumps all over and making the prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Never knew this would thrill him so much, but as his hand reached your belly, pressing down slightly and feeling himself moving in and out of you over your skin and going back to kiss you desperately he understood that no other raw pussy was ever gonna have him “you want me to get you pregnant tonight or what?”

Finally. He met your eyes just in time to see them roll back and flutter shut, your cry immediate “yes yes yes yes” you were begging, your cunt squeezing and sucking his cock in so hard it was getting difficult for him to slide out, seeing white ass stars as you came around him repeating his name since it was the only word you could remember.

The noises of your wet bodies crashing every time he thrusted inside you filling his ears and the warmth of your cum soaking his pelvis felt too good, “you drive me fucking insane” he growled and was now letting go, feeling you milk him dry and trembling in a pleasure he was sure he was going to get addicted to.

Cumming raw and inside after holding it in for so long only for you, he really wanted to see how your tummy grew big. “mingi…” he covered his nervous smile with your lips, still panting over your worn out body, never pulling out even after both of you came down from the shared orgasm.

Wait, “you are still hard??” you couldn’t believe it “give me another one babes, i know you can” there was nothing else in this world that had him in more bliss than your whole body response when you were cumming and he knew that nothing could ever compare to the way your walls hugged him perfectly, massaging his cock in ways nothing could do. He needed to feel it some more “you are having my kids no? we need to fill this up”. His words were going to turn you into burning ashes.

He started to move slowly again, the painful overstimulation not being enough to make him stop “but mingi I don’t think I can cum anymore” your eyebrows were beautifully frown and a tear was about to roll down your cheek when he suddenly flipped you over, you being still flush against his body but now on top of him. He fucking knew you loved being on top, completely able to adjust to his length and set your own pace. Watching him from above was one of your most personal moments.

You looked at him in disbelief, he was seriously going to play this game with you??? You straighten up, watching him dangerously challenging but still catching your breath. As soon as you leaned back and rolled your hips your thoughts about not being able to cum were already gone, his dick filling you up so good you couldn’t believe you ever said that.

You put one hand over his leg to balance yourself while grinding over his dick nice and slow “actually maybe I can…?” your other one gently reaching your belly and caressing it in a wide circle, your own touch giving you goosebumps, the gesture making him flinch at the thought of his cum inside you right where you were touching yourself, yours and his imagination going fucking wild.

He closed his eyes to savor each sensation you could pull out of him, hands running up your legs and landing on your hips to help you grind. But he really wanted to see you, so when he opened his eyes again you were still watching him, all the love you felt for him showing on your face and basically dancing on his lap, little moans escaping your mouth. His eyes on you were so raw and sincere it had you melting, a hot drop of your slick running down your boyfriends lap. How the fuck were you this lucky you didn’t know.

He was biting his bottom lip, all his feelings over the place. he loved you so much. And knowing you felt the same for him sometimes blew his mind “how am i so lucky?” you smiled at his words matching your exact thoughts, “look at me mingi, am I not lucky too?” he indeed looked at you, from your pretty face to your pretty hole sucking his cock, a husky moan leaving him.

He brought his hand to your pussy and split your lips open to watch how his cock disappeared inside you “fucking god…” he nearly came again at the sight of his release forming a ring around his base “I wish I could see this forever” and he could tell when you had a bright idea pop into your clever head, like right now.

You stopped for a second to reach out for your phone, your change of position making him pant and trying to hold you still. You popped the camera app on your screen and pressed record then offered it to him. Seriously, how was he so lucky? He was too horny to argue or question you so…

His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching you go back to moving gently on his dick but quickening your pace until you were sliding him out and bucking back in, jumping and moaning nonsenses. His dick felt so right inside you, so where it belonged to that you stopped thinking what you were saying, completely lovedrunk yourself.

“I love this dick” he groaned and struggled to keep the recording and it took everything in him to not throw the phone away and keep looking through the screen, “no one else is ever cumming inside me, I am all yours” you cried and threw your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as you sensed his free hand grip your hip tighter and buck up to meet your movements.

The hand where he was holding the phone completely trembling, the dirty feeling of this happening to him but also watching you getting fucked through anything that wasn’t his own eyes made it look like something nasty. And hell was he getting off to that shit, “mingi I am gonna…” “yeah, yeah please cum babychick, I am following”

Mingi had this rare gifted talent of making you cum as soon as he commanded, and so you did. The scream was loud from both parts, your pussy tightening harder than it ever had around him, not wanting him to ever leave that place “I am cumming inside again baby is that okay?” you couldn’t even manage to answer, your orgasm so hard it was taking forever for it to go down, so you only nodded fervently as a yes.

All the edging and the overstimulation from earlier skyrocketing your sensitivity. It wasn’t easy for it to happen to you but it did this time and it was recorded forever for commemorative purposes; your pussy started to spray over everything reachable around you, all his torso drenched in your squirt, the camera lens soaked and the image blurry.

Fuck it, you didn’t need to save anything else. Mingi stopped the recording and tossed the phone somewhere over the bed, sat up straight to hug you while you were still crying out his name and started to thrust harsher from bellow.

You hugged him back, curling your legs around his waist to keep him as close as you could and started to kiss him desperately, no rhythm no attention, waiting for this rollercoaster climax to end. His movements were already unsteady due to his own incoming orgasm, calling your name and saying sweet praises into your mouth as the string finally snapped and he finished inside again, making your insides warm with his hot cum.

Once he calmed down he fell on his back over the bed, hugging you still over on top of him, totally worn out and suddenly cold after what you thought had been the best orgasm you’d had.

“shit” you sighed “it is so cold” mingi smiled, completely satisfied, “let me get a towel, I will clean this mess up” he reached down to get a sample of the said mess in his finger. You couldn’t help it and licked it without thinking, “baby… don’t go there again” he was being half serious, but his still inside cock twitched weakly. You laughed at him, “baby go get that towel, I am seriously cold”.

He slid out of you, leaving you to get the promised towel, both relieved and sad at the sudden emptiness in your cunt. But… wait, it is not that empty? Your cheeks burned beet red, remembering how you had been begging him to get you pregnant. How many kinks were you gonna collect with this guy?! Your hand moved by its own, trying to find its way to your slit.

As soon as you felt it in your fingers you couldn’t stop yourself, you were putting all the cum that dripped out back in, moaning quietly at the single thought of your belly full of him again.

“need any help with that?” you looked towards the door, he was leaning against its frame, towel in hand, his smile showing his front teeth that you loved so much. You had to smile back, “yeah?”

—

A/N: Hellooo haha this took me a while.

I know it was meant to be the continuation for Say it like you mean it, but it has been so long already (two whole years to be exact) that I found no joy in these characters anymore. And as much as I tried to start them over again (seriously I had like 9 drafts about them) it always ended up being just not too good. I really wanted to give them a hot and steamy (and really long wtf) chance with this one. I think my writing got better too (not posting at all but still writing), even if english is not my mother language and therefore I am a bit limited!

I would like to improve some more for the next one, which will also be set on mingi & the chick since i am biased and i kinda got attached to some of the topics I was writing about in Say it like you mean it. So for now we have this one, but possibly the next one will fiiiiinally be SILYMI part.2? When? Who knows, no one when it comes to me i am afraid.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome ♡

[sweetiechenle]

hiiii! can I request a where reader sleeps over at mark but he wakes with a morning wood for the first time and there both shy and embarrassed cs they’ve never really been intimate like that. js something cute it can lead to smut if you want :))

pairing: mark x afab!reader

w.c: 1.8k

warnings: mdni 18+, established relationship, spending the night for the first time, mark is so sweet oh my god i will cry, reader is shy but bold, pet names, soft mark, he is so in love, mentions of spiderman because well yeah its mark, blowjob, oral (m receiving), vocal mark, implied smut for the future idk, thank you for requesting!! requests are always open ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

you steadily awoke, blinking your eyes open rapidly, trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the window. hot breath graced your hair, tickling your ear, making you squirm slightly in your boyfriends hold. last night, mark convinced you to stay the night, going as far as to admit that the second spiderman movie was superior to the third one (tom hollands spiderman, of course). you never stayed the night at his apartment, the opportunity never arising but the clouds had been crying all day, rain pelting anything in sight. mark refused to let you go home in these conditions, so when you asked him for a ride home instead of walking to the subway station, he suggested you just stay the night.

after bickering back and forth of 'i don't want to intrude' and 'i want you to's', you agreed after mark got onto his knees stating 'what if i said that far from home is the best spiderman movie?' he was giving you a pout with pleading eyes that shone under the light. they were wide and sparkling, it was almost comical but cute and convincing.

'even better than no way home?' you quirked your brow in amusement at the situation unfolding before you. mark was so dramatic and undeniably funny, one of the many reasons why you love him.

he dropped his head in defeat, sighing, 'yes... even better than no way home' voicing his downfall.

after dinner, you both watched a movie tangled together on the couch, eyes growing heavy from the antics of the day. mark turned the tv off and suggested you both head to bed, you promptly asked for a pillow and blanket, staying seated on the couch as he stood up. tilting his head to the side he laughed, 'what?'

your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment, did you say something wrong? 'i thought we were going to bed... i didn't bring a pillow and blanket with me...' staring down at your hands in your lap, you picked at your hangnails.

'baby, you are not sleeping on the couch' mark chuckled, insane that you even insinuated the idea of it. he lightly grabbed your hand, guiding you to stand up with him, 'if you don't feel comfortable sharing a bed, i will sleep on the couch, there's no way you are' he stated, still holding onto your hand.

you nodded, 'i didn't know, we can share a bed' you'd been in his bedroom countless times, he would be working on his laptop while you'd laid on his bed scrolling through your phone, or he would play you a song on his guitar sitting on his bed, back against the headboard as you listened while in his desk chair. so, this should be no different.

he offered you some old clothes, pajama pants that fit you around the waist ever so slightly, but the hems going over your feet. a shirt that was five years old and dared to expose your shoulder from how big it was. it was perfect. cozy, soft, and smelled like mark.

he brought you to his bathroom, he insisted on washing your face and applied way too much moisturizer to your skin, which prompted him to take some off your face and put it on his. it seemed like he had everything you needed, an extra toothbrush, phone charger, and slippers.

once you were finished, he brought you to his bed and opened the sheets for you, gesturing for you to climb in first, getting the spot next to the wall while he took the one closest to the door. he clicked the lamp off, and mark shimmied closer to you, slowly wrapping his arms around you asking 'is this okay?'

you glanced up at him, features more defined under the moon shining through the curtains, 'yes, of course' he smiled, nuzzling his nose into your hair, taking in the scent with a deep breath.

'good night baby,' he kissed your head, 'i love you' you melted once the words hit your ears, it wasn't said often but special every time it was fabricated into the real world.

'i love you too' you whispered, moving closer to him as much as you could, closing your eyes as marks scent filled your senses, his warm body radiating the perfect amount of heat to yours, soft sheets that hugged you almost as well as he was. it was hard not to quickly drift off to dreamland.

which brought you to the morning after, mark still having an iron grip tight hold on you and lightly snoring in your ears as you tried to count his breathing. that was until something else caught your attention, mark brought you in closer, shoving his nose into your neck, pulling your body flush with his. you could feel something hard on the back of your thigh and if your suspicions were right then this could get interesting. you and mark had not been that sexually involved... yet. stating he had wanted to take his time with you, that he would be ready whenever you were. never going further than making out and scandalous touches over each others bodies. you didn't mind and it seemed like he didn't either as he never pressured you into doing anything more, but you had been ready for a while, the conversation just never coming up. it seemed like sex wasn't that important to either of you.

you stirred as his nose tickled your neck, causing him to wake up, long eyelashes batting as he tried to fight the sleepiness away. 'mornin' baby' he yawned, voice low and groggy. you smiled up at him, stealing glances at his face under the warm glow of the sun peeking in through the curtains.

'mmm' you giggled, 'don't yawn, you're gonna make me yawn' of course watching him do just that triggered a yawn out of you which made him laugh, grabbing you tighter and shaking you in rhythm with the sound. and now being so close made you feel his morning wood again, which made you freeze in his hold

he noticed the way you seemed to tighten your muscles and go stiff, 'what's wrong baby?'

you blushed, should it be brought up? did you want to embarrass your boyfriend like that? it was kind of hard to ignore it... 'oh, um, it seems like you have a problem' you slurred out the last words, hoping he would pick up whatever you were putting down.

dropping the ball completely your words were lost on him, 'oh?' you shifted your leg, making his move in response, eyes wide in shock 'oh' he finally picked it up.

his ears were already hot in embarrassment, your chest caved in its secondhandness, and you now feel bad that you brought it up. 'i-im so so-' he started, moving away from you, face now wearing a pink hue.

you grabbed his wrist, bringing him back closer to you, 'i-i could help you...' whispering, 'if you want' heart beating so fast from the suggestion, half excited, half anxious.

'oh, you really don't have to' his smile faltered, 'i can take care of it in the bathroom or something.'

your occasional innocent facade cracking, 'i want to, please' giving him the best pouty face you could muster.

he sighed and moved towards his pillow, back now slouched against the headboard, his eyes darkening with lust, 'only if you want to babe, i can't refuse you'

you smiled at the green light, climbing on top of him, grasping both shoulders in your hands, you leaned in. he tilted his head to the side, allowing easy access for your lips. he still tasted like the toothpaste you had used last night, exploring his mouth with such delicacy, taking your time with him. lightly grinding your hips down onto his groin made him moan into your mouth. a string of curse words leaving his lips in a raspy tone, still trying to overcome sleep.

making sure to kiss the moles that adorned his face, you then moved onto his neck, sucking light bruises into the sensitive skin. mark let out wanton moans, always vocal in the best ways, a sound you could listen to for the rest of your life.

you continued to move backwards until your reached his crotch. the bugle defined in his pajama pants making your mouth water, you always imagined what it would look like, your boyfriend was too handsome and sexy for you not to sometimes picture moments like this before bed or in the shower.

you reached for the waistband of his pants and underwear, pulling them both down together, sitting them near his thigh. his cock sprung free from its confines, lightly slapping against his toned stomach. 'so pretty' you said more to yourself than to him. you grabbed it and pumped his member up and down, mark sucked in a breath, eyes shut due to the bliss.

you brought your head down, mouth closer to the red, bulbous tip. you gently licked a strip up the shaft, testing the waters before diving in head first. literally.

mark groaned again, bringing his hand to your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, grasping lightly. you went ahead and took him into your mouth, easing his member in inch by inch. he didn't push you but guided you through it. 'fuck baby, that feels s-so good' he gasps, chest moving up and down rapidly.

once your nose touched his pubic bone you started moving, bobbing your head up and down sensually before your movements grew faster. mark jerked his hips into your mouth, making you choke a bit, 'i-i fuck i'm sorry' he blabbered, gripping your hair tighter. you moaned around him, making his body vibrate in response.

the wet sounds and marks panting filled up the room, breaking through the silence of the morning. it was absolute debauchery. you could tell he was close, fingers holding your hair like a vice, the other hand grasping the sheets, eyes staring at you through thick eyelashes as he watched you suck his dick.

you sucked in harder, cheeks caving in as drool pools into your mouth and around marks thick cock. 'o-oh my god, baby, just like that' the praise making you go faster, wanting him to reach his high soon due to the ache in your jaw and between your thighs.

you brought your hand up to grasp whatever you didn't put into your mouth, moving hit in tandem with your mouth, mark cried above you, whimpering that he was coming to come soon. you moaned again not stopping, the quiver leaving him to groan vehemently.

hot liquid filled your mouth as you tried to swallow all of his come. some of it dribbling off of your chin and onto marks thighs, he panted above you, as you pulled off of him and wiped your mouth. moving back down to pepper kisses over his thighs, lightly sucking to make your mark on him.

lust overtaking him completely, forcing you up back to meet his eyes, 'my turn' he growled out.

[witchywithwhiskey]

hungry like a wolf

pairing: lumberjack!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: your morning gets derailed when you dare to get out of bed without waking your lumberjack; it turns into him chasing you down—and mounting you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, possessive sex, creampie, predator and prey kink/primal play kink/chase kink, choking, biting, some breath play, bit of dumbification, very brief overstimulation, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, pet names (bunny, baby), aftercare, established relationship

word count: 3.3k

a/n: here's my week 4 entry in @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer event!! y'all voted for lumberjack!Bucky chasing and mounting reader, and i'm very happy to deliver this fic. it's just a fun bit of smut, i don't even have much to say about it except i really enjoyed writing lumberjack!Bucky 🤭 he's just so big and beefy in my head!! anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

prompt: FREE WEEK | [Optional prompts: “A” - Auto-fellatio, Aftercare, Aphrodisiac, Anal Play, Ass-to-mouth, Ahegao]

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

You slipped from beneath the warm blankets just as the sun was beginning to peak out from between the nearby mountains. Pale, pearly light crept across the cabin’s wooden floorboards, which were cool beneath your toes, the chill of night still clinging to the corners of the bedroom.

Lingering at the edge of the bed, you glanced back at the small mountain of blankets, knowing your lumberjack, Bucky Barnes, was buried beneath it. You could hear his soft, rumbling snores, and could easily imagine the comforting weight of his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose buried in the back of your neck.

It was tempting to get back into bed and snuggle up to your beefy lumberjack, but you knew it was time to start the day. So you pushed up from the mattress and padded across the room on silent feet.

Although it was the start of summer, it still got cold at night up in the mountains, and it seemed to be chilliest just after dawn. So, as much as you knew Bucky would love to find you in the kitchen without a stitch of clothing on, you needed to grab something to ward off the chill.

One of Bucky’s flannels was draped over the arm of a chair in the corner by the dresser, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you recognized it as the shirt he’d worn the day before. You knew it would smell like him, and you couldn’t stop yourself from snatching it off the chair.

You probably should’ve tugged on some leggings and a sweater, and gotten dressed for the day in your own clothes. But as you slid your arms into the sleeves of the flannel shirt, Bucky’s scent filled your senses—like woodsmoke and oakmoss—and you couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. 

Especially since you knew how Bucky would react when he eventually followed you out of bed and saw what you were wearing. Your lumberjack always loved seeing you in his clothes, and you knew that morning would be no different.

The worn wool of the flannel shirt was warm against your bare skin, and you closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of it as you swiftly did up the buttons. Before you left the bedroom, you tucked your nose into the collar and breathed deep, letting Bucky’s scent calm you before you started your day.

Not wanting to wake your lumberjack, you moved quietly through the rustic, cozy cabin he’d built. The floorboards were smooth and clean beneath your feet as you padded down the stairs from the lofted bedroom, and made your way to the kitchen.

With perfect, practiced movements, you set about making coffee, snacking on some leftover strawberry rhubarb pie you’d made earlier that week. While the coffee brewed, you stood at the sink, watching the sunlight creep across the yard, illuminating the stack of wood that fed the cabin’s furnace, and the dense forest beyond.

It wasn’t until after the coffee was brewed and you were nearly done sipping on a warm mug, still watching the growing light of day, that you heard Bucky’s lumbering gate crossing the bedroom above you. 

He’d no doubt risen when he’d discovered you were no longer in bed with him, and you tracked his movements as he followed you to the kitchen.

Thick, burly arms wrapped around your waist from behind and his broad chest pressed to your back, his big body curling around your smaller form. His chin rested on your shoulder, his scruffy cheek brushing against your soft skin enough to make you giggle softly.

“G’morning, bunny,” Bucky rumbled in a deep, sleep-roughed voice that sent gentle sparks darting down between your thighs. 

Already, your body was responding to the closeness of your lumberjack, a warmth blooming in your core as your desire unfurled like the petals of a flower searching for the sun. 

With a little hum of delight, you rose up on your tiptoes until you felt the bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants, a smile teasing your lips when the hard length wedged between the curves of your ass. Turning your head to the side, you caught his eye over your shoulder.

“Good morning, Buck,” you murmured, reaching up, your nails scraping teasingly through the scruff on his jaw. You dug in, pulling his face close enough to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth over your shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

There was a teasing lilt to your tone, and you weren’t surprised when a playful growl rumbled in your lumberjack’s chest. After all, you’d been the one to keep him up late into the night, riding his cock until you were both too exhausted to move.

“I slept great,” Bucky rasped, pressing his face into your neck and brushing a kiss to your pulse point. Then without warning, he nipped that same sensitive spot and your breath hitched in your throat. “Until I woke up in a cold bed when I should’ve had a sweet bunny warming my cock.”

You hummed not-so-sympathetically and took another sip of your coffee before putting it in the sink. You were trying your damndest not to let your lumberjack know just how tempting his words were. 

But when he hugged you more tightly in his arms, pinning your hips against the counter and grinding his cock deeper into your ass, it was all you could do to bite back a moan.

“You look good in my shirt,” Bucky purred in your ear before nipping the fleshy part. His bite was sharp enough to make you gasp, your spine arching and pressing your ass harder against his bulge.

You knew Bucky well enough to know what he was doing—trying to delay the start of the day by working you up with his cock and his mouth until you were a whimpering mess begging him to fuck you.

Well, two could play that game. You didn’t want to go to work anymore than he did.

Turning in Bucky’s hold, you wrapped your arms around your lumberjack’s broad shoulders and dragged him closer, until his bulge was throbbing against your belly. You gave him your most innocent smile, and said, in your sweetest voice, “Thank you, daddy.”

The playful smirk slid off Bucky’s face, replaced by a hungry snarl. As you watched, his eyes darkened, growing hungry like a wolf’s after a hard winter. Between your bodies, his cock twitched with an impatience you knew all too well. 

“I see you’re choosing violence first thing in the morning, huh, baby?” Bucky asked, his hands grabbing your hips and holding you pinned against his broad, muscular body. 

His bulge was digging into your soft belly so deliciously that you wanted to lift your leg and hook it over your lumberjack’s hip. You wanted the thick, hard length of his cock grinding against your pussy, making you both desperate until he’d had enough and took you right there in the kitchen.

But instead, you gave an insolent shrug.

“It’s not first thing in the morning for me, daddy,” you said sweetly, putting extra emphasis on the dirty pet name that drove Bucky wild. “I’ve been up for a little while now.”

Another growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, this one low and menacing. His blue eyes were dark with lust as he stared down at you, and his hands were hungry in the way they groped your hips roughly. 

It took every bit of your self-control to suppress a victorious grin, knowing you’d won by getting Bucky all riled up before he could do the same to you. You held your breath, waiting with breathless anticipation to see how he’d respond to your teasing provocation. 

“You better run, bunny,” Bucky warned in a deep, rumbling tone, giving your hips one last squeeze before he began easing away. “Because when I catch you, I’ll make you scream for daddy.” With a sharp, encouraging swat to your ass, Bucky stepped back, giving you room to flee. 

For one long, delicious moment, you stared into Bucky’s eyes, reveling in the tension crackling between the two of you. This was one of your favorite games to play, and Bucky knew it. He knew how much you enjoyed being chased, being caught, being fucked with your body pinned beneath his beefy form.

All thoughts about going to work and how you should’ve started getting ready for the day were completely abandoned by the time the moment ended—and you took off like a shot.

Scampering through the lower level of the cabin, you bounded up the stairs to the second floor as fast as you could, your feet pounding on the wood. Your heart was racing in your chest, your blood pumping in your ears, and yet you could still feel the heavy, thumping footfalls of Bucky giving chase. 

He’d given you a few seconds head-start, but you knew it was an inevitability that he’d catch you. And that was exactly what you wanted. 

You wanted him to snatch you off your feet, bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you like a beast staking a claim on your cunt. He was the wolf and you were his prey—his bunny. 

You could feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribs and thrumming between your thighs, you pussy growing more and more damp with every desperate step you took. You knew Bucky was hot on your heels, and you anticipated the moment he’d grab you even as you raced across the loft to escape him for just another second. 

The hungry lumberjack caught you at the edge of the bed, tackling you onto the soft blankets. His arms wrapped protectively around your body, one big hand tucking your head beneath his chin to ensure you weren’t hurt while he took you down to the mattress.

Before you could even gasp for breath, Bucky rolled you under him, your back to his front, his cock brushing your ass through his sweatpants. He yanked you up onto your knees, kneeling behind you while his hands groped your hips and thighs hard enough to leave marks.

Bucky’s big body curled around yours, and he was everywhere—surrounding you, overwhelming you. His hands snuck under your soft flannel shirt, groping your tits and pinching your nipples while you gasped and squirmed beneath him. 

When he dragged his blunt teeth down the curve of your neck, you shuddered. Instinctively, you melted into the bed, your body going pliant in your lumberjack’s hands as you submitted to his delicious torture. 

“Gotcha,” he growled into your skin before sinking his teeth mercilessly into the base of your throat, where your neck met your shoulder. 

“Ah!” you cried, trembling from the exquisite edge of pain and pleasure. Already, you were dripping down your thighs, and you pushed your ass back into Bucky’s bulge, a whine rising in your throat as you tipped your head to the side in a show of submission.

“That’s my good bunny,” Bucky rumbled, his hands kneading roughly at your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers and dragging needy whines from your lips. “Such pretty, perfect prey for daddy, yeah?” 

There was a slight breathlessness to Bucky’s voice, like he was still catching his breath from the chase you’d led him on, and it made pride surge in your heart. A dazed smile curled the edges of your mouth and your eyes were glazed over, but you nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, daddy, your prey,” you mumbled, barely knowing what you were saying. 

Bucky pressed his grin into your cheek, growling, “Good girl,” before he caught your lips in a fierce kiss. You moaned at the taste of him, and he licked the sound from your mouth, his lips hungry as they devoured yours. 

All too soon, Bucky pulled away, leaving you gasping. But then you felt him pushing down his sweatpants, one arm still curled around your waist to hold you in place.

His thick cock bounced between your legs, and you moaned obscenely, your cheek pressed to the blankets as you pushed your hips back, squeezing your soft thighs around his stiff length. You could feel him slipping through the desire coating your skin, but he wasn’t inside you, which was what you really needed.

Before you had a chance to beg Bucky to fuck you, he was lining up the tip of his cock with your entrance, dragging the head teasingly between your folds. Then, with a vicious grunt, Bucky shoved inside, burying his cock deep in your cunt with one thrust.

“Bucky,” you choked out, pleasure slicing through you like a winter wind through the trees, stealing your breath and leaving you trembling. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you let the pleasure overwhelm you, turning you into a babbling mess. “Oh god, it’s s’good, s’full—daddy.”

Your lumberjack chuckled huskily against your neck, clearly delighted that he’d already made you mindless with his cock. 

Then he was wrapping you up in his big, burly arms, one strong hand going around your throat while the other curved around your shoulder from the front. 

In seconds, he had you pinned so securely to his chest, you couldn’t move. Something about his hold settled you, and you relaxed in his arms, giving your body over to his. 

He’d won the chase, he’d caught you, and you wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you.

“If you think that’s good, baby,” Bucky began, grinding his hips into your ass, making you feel every inch of his cock where it was buried to the hilt inside you. “Just wait till daddy fucks your sweet cunt so hard you’ll be screaming my name.” He squeezed your throat lightly. “You’re my prey, bunny, now be a good girl and take my fucking cock.”

Even if you’d had anything to say to Bucky’s filthy words, even if you’d managed to formulate a tart response to sass your lumberjack, you wouldn’t have been able to voice it. Because just then, Bucky started fucking you—hard and fast and so deep, you swore you could feel him in your guts.

Bucky rutted into you like a man possessed, pounding his cock into your cunt as if he was intent on making you feel him for every minute of that long summer day while you were apart from each other. His hips clapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, his balls swinging between your thighs to smack against your clit.

And all the while, he held your throat in his strong grasp, squeezing you firmly, possessively. His hand collaring your throat was a constant reminder that you were his while he claimed your body in the most primal way possible.

Your lumberjack fucked you so thoroughly, all you could do was moan and take it, so that’s what you did. You took his cock happily, eagerly. Your lips were parted in an endless stream of obscene sounds, your pleasure spilling from your mouth so Bucky knew how much you were enjoying him using your body.

He held you so securely, that there was nothing for you to do as he pulled you back and forth to meet his cock with every thrust. Your hands fisted in the blankets of the bed, nails digging into the soft fabric as you sobbed and moaned in pleasure, heading toward a decimating release.

You were helpless to the bliss Bucky wrought on your body. All you could do was feel, and it felt so. Fucking. Good. Heady, prickling pleasure swirled through your body, gathering like a thunderstorm intent on breaking the heat and tension coiling tight in your belly.

Your lumberjack must’ve recognized the signs of your body hovering on the edge—the way your voice went higher-pitched and needier, the way your pussy fluttered around his pounding cock—because he started fucking you harder and faster, his harsh breaths filling your ears. 

“Come for me, baby, come on daddy’s cock like my perfect little bunny,” Bucky commanded in a gruff voice, his scruffy cheek jaw over your cheek. “C’mon, let me feel that cunt milking my cock, baby—come for me.”

Bucky’s fingers dug into the sides of your throat, choking you enough that your head went a little fuzzy and your sounds of pleasure turned to rasping whimpers and desperate mewls. At the same time, his other hand slipped between your thighs and rubbed your clit, and it was exactly what you needed to push you over the edge.

“BUCKY!” you screamed your lumberjack’s name as you shattered apart. The storm broke and the tension in your body snapped, giving way to a torrent of pleasure that swept over you and carried you away. 

Distantly, you were aware of Bucky grunting viciously when he felt the tight clench of your pussy, and he fought against the rhythmic pulsing of your body to fuck you harder. His thrusts turned wild as he chased his own pleasure in your squeezing cunt.

A moment later, he gave a deafening roar and spilled inside you, his cock twitching and dragging a mindless moan from your lips as he filled you up with his come. His hands tightened on your body while his hips worked, fucking his come deeper and deeper into your hot cunt as he shot rope after rope inside you. 

You gave a weak whimper, your pussy throbbing around his thick cock as he dragged out your pleasure. But Bucky wasn’t done—he kept fucking you until you were both trembling from the overstimulation. Then, he finally relented. 

The two of you collapsed into the blankets of the bed, Bucky rolling onto his side and turning you to face him. The movement caused his cock to slip from your well-used pussy, and his come spilled down your thighs, making a mess.

Neither of you cared, though, as you caught your breath together, tangled up in each other’s arms. You placed a hand gently over the center of Bucky’s chest, feeling the power of his racing heart beneath his skin. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you tight in his strong arms.

“Now that is how you have a good morning,” you joked, your voice still a little breathless. With a smile, you tipped your head back, your mouth searching for Bucky’s.

When he ducked his head, his lips meeting yours, you shared a slow, sweet good morning kiss with your lumberjack, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your pleasure. The growing sunlight was streaking across the bedroom, teasing your bare feet with its warmth, but you couldn’t be bothered to pull away from Bucky just yet.

“I always have a good morning with you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his tone steeped in so much affection and warmth, it nearly took your breath away. Then he nipped gently at your lower lip, catching it between his teeth in a teasing bite. “Even if sometimes I have to chase you down to get it.”

Your lumberjack’s taunting words had a laugh bubbling up your throat and spilling from your lips. Before he could rub it in any more that he’d caught you, you dragged him back in for a longer, deeper kiss. Soon, your hands began to wander over his broad shoulders and down his beefy, burly chest.

By the time you and Bucky dragged yourselves from bed and actually started your days, morning was half over and the coffee in the pot had long since burned. Still, you took your time getting dressed, making more coffee and sharing kisses in between, both of you getting to work late. 

But you wouldn’t have traded your morning for anything. You loved every minute you spent with your lumberjack, Bucky Barnes—and you couldn’t wait for the weekend when you got to have him all to yourself. Then the two of you would really have some fun.

thanks for reading!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♡

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

[seungfl0wer]

*𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘽𝙤𝙮*

Pairing: Bunny!Hybrid Felix x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Friends -> Lovers, Multiple: Orgasms/rounds and creampies, unprotected sex, Ear Kink? Idk man lol. Oral (Both), Hickeys/bite marks, 69, Squirting, slight face fucking. Sorry for any mistakes or missed warnings.

A/N: Posting this funny enough on my birthday lol. I love love love this I hope you guys do to!

Series Master List

-🐾

Today was your best friend’s birthday. You kept asking him what he wanted and all he would say was just to hang out with you. Your friendship to others would seem more than friends. Felix always had some part of him touching you. Whether it be his arm around your waist or holding your hand. He just had to be close. He would always say it was just a hybrid thing, that he liked your body heat and it made him feel calm. I mean it was true, however Felix always had the massive crush on you. Ever since he got to know you almost 6 years ago now.

You met by chance from a friend of a friend who ended up leaving you alone at the cabin you all rented. You stayed up all night just talking about everything and anything. You’d be dumb to deny you had any feelings for him. Because in reality you may be more in love with him than he was with you. That pretty blonde hair of his, the way it draped over his face so perfectly. The way he smiled at you so warmly every time he saw you. The way those soft floppy ears would perk up as soon as he laid his eyes on you. Not to mention that cute little tail of his that always gave him away.

He had such a habit of laying his head on you wanting you to play with his hair, to touch his soft sensitive ears. He would melt like putty anytime you would too. Almost purring like a cat when you did. To everyone else you were together but neither of you ever confirming or honestly denying it either. It was almost a limbo of “are we together? Are we just friends?” Kinda thing. Neither of you dated or even looked for a partner.

You had everything set up for his birthday, you know he’d whine seeing you put so much effort into it but you wanted to make it special. After getting the apartment ready you slipped into Felix’s favorite outfit. Nothing special something you never understood why he liked so much. It was just a pair of sweats and your favorite crop top. He always told you how much he liked to cuddle up to you like that. How warm and cozy you felt all comfy.

When he arrived letting himself in you could hear him whine just like you knew he would. You decked out the place with his favorite color, made his favorite dinner and stopped at his favorite bakery to pick up the cookies he loved so much. When you saw him he looked like he could cry rushing over to you to give you a big hug. His little cotton tail moving like crazy, his cute nose twitching at all the good smells. “Y/n you didn’t have to do all this” he whined more.

“Ssh let’s go eat birthday boy” you said with a smile giving him a little nose kiss before making your way to the kitchen. You both sat and ate, listing to Felix talk about his day. He looked so handsome, his hair a bit messy, his black t shirt clinging to him a bit showing off his toned body. The way his sweats tugged down a bit to show off his little happy trail he had. Ugh and those eyes, those big eyes that could get him away with murder. They way the shined, smiled even while talking to you. You were hopelessly in love with him.

“Lixie I got all the blankets out on the pull out! We can snuggle and watch whatever you want!” You said with a smile.

“Is that why it’s so cold in here? You always make it freezing so ‘we need all the blankets’” he said with a chuckle.

After putting the dishes away you had to swat his hands away when he wanted to wash them. He always had that habit, trying to help you with everything. “Nuh uh, I appreciate it but today’s your birthday” you said pushing him slightly to go to the living room. He chuckled but did as you told him making his way to the couch as you put the dishes in the washer. You found him already cuddled up under the covers, he smiled at you.

“Come on, you got it so cold I need your warmth. I may die!” He whined. He moved the covers letting you take your spot. Slinking his arms around you, laying his head in the crook of your neck. “Mm you smell so good and so warm” he said with a little purr. You snuffled into him toes touching his legs making him jump “stooop you’re cooold” he whined more.

You put on some movie Felix had told you about. Felix couldn’t help but move a bit the way you had your body pressed against him now ass against his slowly hardening cock. He felt his head spin. You could feel his breath on your neck, the way it hitched a bit as you moved to reposition yourself. You could feel him pressed against you. Maybe it was that you had enough of whatever limbo you guys were in. Maybe it was the atmosphere of it being his birthday, having his cock so nicely pressed against you. You couldn’t help yourself your hand found its way to the hem of his pants making him jolt.

You glossed your hand over his hardening cock making him let out a soft whimper. You felt him move himself pushing his hips against your hand. You turned your body not saying anything before dipping under the covers. His eyes went wide, he felt you lower yourself on him. “Y/n-“ he choked out looking down out you, holding the covers up to see you.

“It’s your birthday lixie let me take care of you?” You said softly. And all he could do was nod. He watched as you slowly pulled his pants down letting his cock finally free. It was almost cute however you weren’t expecting how thick he was. He wasn’t big on length terms not small either but what he lacked in length he made up in sheer girth. He was so thick, his tip already leaking pre cum. You licked over his tip making him shake at the sensation. You were quick to take his hand in one of yours before taking him slowly back your throat.

The way his body trembled under you, the way he squeezed your hand and oh boy the way he moaned. It made your core tremble. You could feel yourself becoming wet at just the sound of him. You slowly bobbed your head on his length your other hand coming up to slightly touch his balls. “You- you’re gonna make me- ah ah” he said bucking his hips up cumming without any warning. Well he tried to but it came on so fast he couldn’t even get the words out. You swallowed around him, drinking in everything he had. To your surprise though he was still harder than ever, so you didn’t stop.

You moved your head faster, fondling his balls more. “Fuck y/n” he moaned out taking his other hand to move your hair. When you looked up at him, when you met those glossed over eyes you moaned. The vibrations sending a shock wave through him. He was already close again- fuck he was so close again. Something about bunny hybrids was they had tremendous stamina. They could cum over and over and still keep going.

He watched as you took him all in, if his brain was fuzzy before it definitely was now. Your eyes locked on him as you took him all back, tongue twirling around him. “God I can smell how wet you are” he said his voice low. His hand came under to cup your face pulling you off of him with a pop. “Let me take care of you too?” He said moving your body so he could lean back to touch you.

“But it’s-“ you started to say only to be cut off by him.

“Yeah and I say I wanna feel how drenched you are” he almost growled.

He pulled down your sweats groaning at the fact you didn’t have anything under it. He moved his hand down your stomach before pressing it against your clit. He quickly moved down a little feeling how wet you were. “Mm you’re soaked- fuck” he said softly before pushing his fingers into your needy hole. You moaned finally getting some stimulation to your throbbing cunt. You quickly moved your head back to take him in licking at his tip before slowly taking him back your throat.

He bucked his hips up, his cock head hitting the back of your throat. He felt you clench around him making a low groan come out from deep back his throat. “Y-you like me using that pretty throat of yours?” He asked. You hummed in response, he wanted to chuckle but fuck it was so hot. He moved his hips more fucking slowly into your throat as his fingers explored your folds. “I can’t take it anymore- need- I need to- ah taste you.” He moved his body laying on his back before you could even say anything in response he was pulling your body down on top of him.

He attached his lips to your dripping cunt lapping at every juice that dared to flow past his lips. His hands gripped at your ass and thighs keeping you on his face. Wanting nothing more to be surrounded by your warmth and essence. He ate you out like it was the most tastiest dessert that had ever graced his lips. His tongue darted at your hole fucking it into you. His thrusts into your mouth were becoming more erratic as he chased another orgasm. You were close behind him, feeling your body melt into him. The stings keeping it at by ready to break at any moment.

When he nipped at your clit sucking on it harshly is all it took. The strings snapping cumming in his tongue with a loud moan. His eyes rolled back pushing his cock back your throat one more time before cumming. His cum shot down your throat as you swallowed it once more. He licked your cunt clean not wanting to waste any of the sweetness he had only dreamt about tasting.

He quickly grabbed you, flipping you to your stomach before getting behind you. “Need you- I need you like I need fucking air- please y/n” he whimpered his cock pressing at your core begging for entrance.

“Felix, ah lixie please- fuck me, I’m all yours always been all yours” the words that came from you were almost desperate. You moved your ass back pushing him into you. The sound he let out was almost pornagraphic and the way his hands flung to your hips gripping them tightly.

“Shit-“ he choked out. He took a moment for his head to wrap around what was actually happening however the way you clenched around him he couldn’t help but move. He started off a bit slow still trying to adjust to what was happening but hearing you moan made him lose it. His thrusts were so deep, his thick cock grazing against all your sensitive spots. He pounded into you fucking you like bunnies do. “Shit- shit- gonna- ah I’m fucking c-cuming!” He screamed hands digging into you surly leaving marks.

The hot cum filling you, making him glide in and out even better. He gripped ahold of you pulling you back. He had you on his lap now his chest pressed against your back. He thrusted up into you even harder the new position making him feel even thicker. “Always wanted this, wanted to be burred so deep into you- to fill you full- ah-“ he babbled out. His hand came down to rub your forgetting clit. His master fingers bringing you close to another orgasm.

He was relentlessly, his thrusts so precise but also so sloppy. He left kisses to your neck sinking those bunny teeth into them. He needed to mark you up, needed to let everyone know you were finally all his. You felt your high ready to crash over you this time it felt stronger you knew that feeling from only one time before. Funny enough you were thinking of him that time too, riding your bunny dildo thinking of your best friend. It was the first time you ever squirted and you knew you were gonna do it again.

His other hand came up to grip at your neck softly pulling your had to the side to give him full access to your neck. He sucked purple marks all over leaving a bit indent of those cute little bunny teeth. With one more harsh thrust one more deep bite you were cumming. Felix’s thrusts stuttered as he watched the stream of fluids come from you. Squirting all over the couch body shaking violently. “Ah- ah that’s it fuck- I can’t believe you just- shit!” He groaned against your neck pushing as far as he could cumming deep into you once more.

He wasn’t done yet though, he moved your body once more laying you down on your back before thrusting into you once more. This time more desperate. “T’much” you stuttered out tears pricking at your eyes. You were so sensitive so fucking sensitive. Each thrust made you feel like you were gonna cum again.

“One more angel, please- you can give me one more right? For my birthday? Just one more- need- need to see you cum on my cock. I wanna-“ he panted out. “I wanna see that beautiful face while you cum all over me- please you can give me one more right?”

“Anything- anything for you lixie- you feel so fucking good” you croaked.

“God you feel so good to- so fucking good- you’re so warm so fucking wet- ah you’re all mine- all mine right angel?” His eyes had a gleam in them you’ve never seen before almost animal like.

“All yours! Always have been lixie!” You almost screamed.

He quickly attached his lips to yours kissing you hungrily as he ponded into you. Your hands flung up to his hair pulling him deeper into the kiss. Your hands grazed his ears making him whimper. “Ah- wait don’t” he started today but it was too late. You started to stoke his ears, they were always so sensitive but this was a different kind of sensitive right now. His body shook, he put all his body weight in you. His head in the crook of your neck letting out soft moans and whimpers. You gently pulled on his ears and he lost it.

His thrusted harshly into you feeling his high about to spill once more into you. He pulled away looking down at you. “Gonna-“ he choked out before cumming deep into you for the third time of the night. It was enough to bring you over the edge again cumming with him. He watched your face contort in pleasure feeling you clench so tightly around him.

He leaned himself back down to you cupping your face to kiss you lovingly. He brushed some hair from your face looking tenderly in your eyes. “The best birthday gift I could ever ask for is to just have you as mine” he said sweetly.

“Lix- I love you” you said breathily wrapping your arms around him to hug him tightly.

“I love you to, I love you so much” he said nuzzling back into your neck.

You felt his hips move slightly feeling him hard again. “Seriously?” You said in a jokingly voice.

“Sorry angel, can’t help it. It’s what bunnies do best” he said with a chuckle.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @jehhskz @babigriin @kkamismom12 @jeonginsleftcheek

[honey-tongued-devil]

i Beg you i mean BEG YOU to do more chubby person x jinx or vi or something BECAUSE IM LITERALLY FATTT and i love the hcs

DROP ANOTHER ONE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙇🏽‍♀️

[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time

The second request of the week. Honestly, as someone who isn't exactly slim, I write these headcanons for those who ask me but primarily for myself. Requests are open, as usual, I ask for your patience because English is not my first language. I'll leave you the link if you'd like to follow me on Bluesky (I'll be posting Arcane content there soon as well, i want to build a 'public' meanwhile).

| Tip jar |

Jayce:

- Starting with the fact that this man is built like a wardrobe, and his clothes are already pretty roomy, he’s started buying even bigger shirts just to make sure you can borrow them, they’ll be oversized on you, and you’ll be happy.

- So when you’re at home watching a movie or cuddling in bed, he strokes your belly with a smile, pretending to be surprised.

- “Is that my shirt?”

- This himbo, who handles a hammer that weighs as much as a horse, means no arguments when it comes to cuddles: you’re sitting in his lap.

- And when things get a bit heated, he’ll hoist you up with your knees on his shoulders, pressing you against the wall just to flex his strength and remind you that it’s absolutely no problem for him.

- After the dirty deeds, expect him to bring you something to eat (and especially drink) in bed, and don’t expect to be able to say no. 

Viktor:

- When you’re relaxing on the couch, it takes a moment to find a position that’s comfortable for both of you: usually, he sits upright with one leg stretched out, the other (his weaker one) draped over yours, and you either facing him or lying on your side with your head on his shoulder.

- The focus here isn’t on clothes, but blankets. They’re all queen-size, so the two of you can wrap yourselves up as comfortably as possible during cuddles without anyone getting cold.

- And when you stand up with one draped around you like a cape, he can’t help but chuckle and call you “Your Majesty.”

- As for clothes, you’d never think he’s clued in to your needs, but then you see the socks he buys for you both: to avoid any circulation issues, he only buys soft cotton and wool socks without elastic, so even at home, you always have cozy socks that match the season, like festive holiday ones.

- His secret move? Sliding his hands between your thighs when they’re cold, and playing with the little rolls there, pinching them when you’re cuddling.

- In your most intimate moments, he stops to kiss and nip at your thighs, leaving little constellations of marks that he traces over with his fingertips in the days that follow.

Ekko:

- Cuddle time is sacred.

- If he walks into the room and sees you sprawled comfortably on the bed waiting for him, a bomb alert goes off in his head: he shuts the door and runs to gather everything he might need.

- Water, snacks, extra blankets, anything he can think of.

- When he gets back and shuts the door behind him, he has a ridiculous grin on his face, warning you that he’s about to pounce with a playful growl, as if to show you just how much he wants to nibble you.

- Ekko is a huge fan of having your knees on his shoulders while you lie down, rubbing his cheek against your calf, and kissing it while you’re busy squirming.

- His favorite hobby? Getting his head caught between your thighs and becoming “deaf.”

- He’s always the big spoon because he has to protect you, hug you, and nestle his arms and hands into every soft spot.

- After any wild night, expect breakfast in bed and a hot bath waiting for you.

Vander:

- Zaun has a dreadful climate because the smog creates a thick layer of heat, but being underground and surrounded by cold materials, temperatures can drop sharply. So sometimes he shows up with a blanket, hands you a corner, and asks you to hold it for a moment.

- As soon as you take it, he calmly wraps it around you, picks you up, and carries you over to the fireplace, keeping you wrapped like a burrito on his lap while he enjoys his pipe for half an hour.

- Because of the cold, intimacy often happens right there in the living room, in front of the fire. Sometimes, he’ll give you the armchair and kneel in front of you, or you’ll both find yourselves on the rug.

- He’s a good lover, but don’t expect him to do much after expending all that energy at his age. On a good day, he’ll be a gentleman and carry you to bed; then it will your turn to cuddle and soothe him with gentle strokes as he enjoys them with his eyes closed.

- If it’s not a good day, he’ll pull the blanket over both of you and set the guard in front of the fire, resigning himself to the fact that you’ll be sleeping cuddled up either on the chair, the sofa, or even on the rug.

- In exchange, the next day, he’ll make it up to you with a long, hot bath and a massage.

Silco:

- This man has money, and he knows how to use it well.

- When the cold sets in Zaun, your bedroom becomes a place you’d never want to leave. Fur rugs are laid out on either side of the bed, soft, warm robes in matching colors appear in the closet, and if you want to stay in your den waiting for him while he works without freezing, you can even light the in-room fireplace.

- After he finishes his work, he washes up, dons his robe, and heads straight to bed, sometimes he doesn't even waiting, and begins going over his paperwork under the blankets while he absently strokes your shoulder or hair.

- If you complain enough, he’ll carefully gather up the papers, set them aside, and hover over you to kiss your neck and collarbones, sliding your robe aside so his lean, wiry body can press against yours.

- He’s incredibly gentle in everything he does, from how he touches to how he kisses or nibbles. Every movement makes you shiver, but he remains composed. Occasionally, between kisses, the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin, making you giggle; he then returns to your lips, asking for forgiveness before continuing his slow exploration.

- He’s the type for wine and a cozy dinner under the covers, a break for cuddles, and then back to work.

- If you protest that you’re eating too much, he’ll feed you himself—no time for nonsense (but always with a touch of tenderness).

Jinx:

- The most chaotic thing Jinx does is cross out or draw over posters that show people who are too skinny. They can’t make you insecure if you don’t see them, and any excuse for vandalism is a good one.

- With the cold setting in, her hideout transforms into a true nest: a heap of clothes and fabrics covered in blankets and throws to make everything softer and warmer.

- Jinx has cold feet, but it’s not her problem—it’s yours. She’ll press them against your stomach, your back, and if you react, it’ll only get worse.

- She’ll start laughing, and it’ll become personal. The only way to fight back is with tickling, but that would be a declaration of war.

- When you both finally calm down, she’ll wrap herself around you, clinging with her whole body, inhaling your scent deeply, and digging her fingers into your side.

- Don’t expect too much delicacy in intimate moments; if she needs you to move, she’ll grab and pull you into whatever position is most comfortable for her. She holds your legs up, and handles you like you’re her personal doll.

- For her, this is princess treatment; and the effort she’s putting in is what counts.

Vi:

- She buries her face in your chest, first and foremost. Feeling sad? Face in your chest. Happy? Face in your chest. Deep in thought? You guessed it—face in your chest.

- Her go-to stress reliever is squeezing your thighs and hips.

- During cuddles, she rests your head on her shoulder, strokes your back, kisses your forehead, and speaks softly.

- She always plays with your hair, and if it’s long enough, you’ll find small braids everywhere.

- When you’re cuddling in bed, she’ll either hold you close or be the little spoon herself, with one hand in yours and fingers intertwined.

- When things get more intimate, she becomes completely dependent on you, pressing her fingers so deeply into your skin that they leave marks, as if even that isn’t enough and she wants to be inside you, to reach into your very core.

- She never imposes anything; if you don’t feel like washing up, she’ll clean you up with a warm cloth, and if you don’t feel like getting up, she’ll carry you. Whatever you want, she’ll go along with it unconditionally.

- Occasionally, she’ll climb over you, propping herself on her arms, just to steal a flurry of kisses.

Caitlyn:

- Caitlyn can cook, and she will.

- Her way of cuddling starts at the table, with an evening set up like a royal banquet. Anything you like will be there, along with sweet and savory snacks, which, if there are leftovers, she’ll take to the coffee table or the bedroom so you can enjoy them later.

- There’s no rush; if you want to go for a walk or relax after eating, it’s fine by her—she just wants to be with you. She might ask a housekeeper for a bit of help, or she’ll clean up on her own while you get ready.

- If you lie down in bed, she’ll absolutely take the chance to gently knead your stomach like a cat, making you laugh but also helping you fall asleep rather quickly.

- She’s the ultimate big spoon, nestling her face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

- When things get more intimate, she loves to look you in the eyes while she touches you, so she can savor every reaction, every shiver, watching your body melt with every move she makes.

- She becomes mesmerized by the way your body ripples under her touch, like there’s an ocean beneath your skin.

Mel:

- The real issue with Mel is that the rich never have anything better to do, so morning, noon, and night, they’re constantly organizing events. Breakfast at a noble’s home, brunch with the councilors, and of course, everyone must dine together. Tea at five with the Kirammans is absolutely sacred, and dinner is a moment for sharing ideas.

- Intimacy is this strange, almost absurd thing, as though everything is designed to give you no second of solitude.

- But when she does find a moment, she sits down and signals you to come into her lap or rest against her, cuddling you, playing with your earlobes, and winding her fingers through your hair until your eyes cross.

- She prefers giving affection to receiving it, simply because it feels like the only way she truly knows how to show love.

- Only in the deepest intimacy does she allow herself to do less, to enjoy your presence lying with her, to let go of control.

- She adores the way your body moves artistically, like it follows lines painted in oil, and these are the few moments where she can fully admire you.

- She’s quite strict afterward. You must drink those two glasses of water, and as you get up, she’ll call for someone to change the sheets and make the bed, so by the time you’re done showering, everything is ready and perfect.

Sevika:

- Bluntly put? She works with the chem barons, who are mostly old, misogynistic men with monocles embedded in their skulls, grotesquely altered rats with spider-like mechanical limbs, a very interesting gang of women in latex with disturbing port attachments, people with mechanical noses that pump in toxic stuff directly, and other highly modified, not-so-pleasant characters.

- I mean, sure, you have every right to feel insecure, but when she tells you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, she’s being quite literal.

- Her delight in the fact that not only are you entirely flesh and blood but actually soft flesh is beyond words—she feels like she’s hit the jackpot with a premium relationship.

- There’s hardly a moment when she’s not touching you, holding your arms or cheeks in her hands, or kissing your skin.

- During cuddles, she prefers you on top of her, and if she’s calm and has enough time, she’ll even remove her arm.

- It’s a controversial choice, but she doesn’t want to be around you while wearing a weapon, and she doesn’t want you to see her the way she sees the chem barons. It’s almost a moral decision on her part.

- In bed, she can hold you easily with just one arm; she’s strong, it’s not an issue for her. But first and foremost, she wants to lie down with you, feel your soft arms, your chest, your waist where she can let herself sink in, and when you laugh because she’s tickling you, she kisses you.

- For her, the hardest part isn’t functioning with one less limb but letting herself appear calm, not on the defensive, even vulnerable.

- But she doesn’t regret it for a single second.

[dollishmehrayan]

# CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS WITH BATBOYS! ── .✦ ( how you celebrate Christmas with different batboys )

a/n: merry christmasss! I took a small christmas break so enjoyy this one this was supposed to be on drafts but tumblr deleted it for NO REASON. Anywayss enjoyyy, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick is all about family and making you feel like part of his world. He drags you to Wayne Manor for the annual Christmas gathering.

“You’re not just meeting them you’re officially part of the chaos now.”

He insists on matching Christmas sweaters—preferably something embarrassing but endearing, like sweaters with reindeer antlers or Santa hats.

When you two decorate the tree, he’ll lift you up to put the star on top, even if you don’t need the help. “It’s tradition!”

Christmas morning involves him waking you up early with hot cocoa and a million kisses before unwrapping presents.

He loves going ice skating with you after all the festivities, holding your hand and showing off his acrobatic spins. “Bet you didn’t know I could do that, huh?”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason keeps things quiet and low-key, preferring a cozy Christmas at home over big gatherings. He’ll grumble if you insist on dragging him to the Manor but secretly enjoys seeing you happy.

“If Alfred offers you eggnog, don’t drink it. Trust me.”

He’s surprisingly thoughtful when it comes to gifts. He’ll give you something heartfelt, like a first-edition book or a piece of jewelry with a story behind it.

Jason will absolutely read you a Christmas story by the fireplace. He tries to act like it’s no big deal, but you catch him smiling when you lean against him to listen.

Baking Christmas cookies together turns into a disaster. He somehow burns half of them but insists on eating them anyway. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

At night, he takes you on a walk through Gotham to see the Christmas lights, keeping you close to shield you from the cold and doing that sidewalk rule thingy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s idea of a perfect Christmas is you, him, and a stack of holiday movies to binge-watch while wrapped in a blanket fort.

“We’re staying up all night. Sleep is for New Year’s Eve.”

He’s a last-minute shopper but somehow always gets you the perfect gift. He’ll blush when you open it and say, “I just… figured you’d like it.”

Decorating the tree is a fun and chaotic process because he tries to turn it into a competition. “Whoever hangs the most ornaments wins bragging rights for the year.”

He insists on taking a cute selfie in front of the tree to commemorate the moment, even if you’re in pajamas and your hair’s a mess.

You exchange heartfelt letters as part of your gift exchange, and his words always leave you teary-eyed.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit awkward about Christmas traditions at first, but he puts in effort because he knows how much it means to you.

He surprises you with a beautifully wrapped gift, probably something rare or unique that shows he knows you well. “I trust this meets your expectations.”

If you’re at Wayne Manor, he’ll grumble about the chaos but secretly enjoys seeing everyone together. He stays close to you the entire time.

You two spend part of the day at the animal shelter, helping out with the holiday rush. Seeing him with the animals melts your heart.

At home, he’ll insist on making hot cocoa for you. It’s surprisingly good, and he pretends not to notice your impressed look.

Late at night, he plays piano for you by the fire, begrudgingly admitting that Christmas music isn’t entirely awful.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes sure Christmas is magical for you. The Manor is decked out with elegant decorations, and Alfred ensures everything is perfect.

He gives you a tour of the massive Christmas tree, explaining how each ornament has a story. “This one’s from the first Christmas Dick spent here. It’s… special.”

Bruce is incredibly thoughtful with gifts. He doesn’t just buy something expensive; he finds something meaningful that shows how much he knows and cares about you.

You spend part of the day helping him and Alfred deliver gifts to shelters and hospitals. It’s a tradition he holds close to his heart.

In quieter moments, he’ll hold you close by the fire, watching the snow fall outside. “Thank you for making this Christmas so much better.”

He surprises you with a slow dance to soft Christmas music, making you feel like you’re in a fairytale.

[velarisdusk]

Unveiled Pleasures

Day 4: Virgin | Rhysand x Reader word count: 4.3k author’s note: this was not a kink i thought i had but during planning, the thought of rhys getting a dark look in his eyes, losing himself and going feral when he finds out…… yum :) ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

A blizzard rages outside, snow swirling in the darkness. It’s been relentless; for two days, its winds clawed at windows and howled through the night. Snow accumulates in thick drifts outside, burying Velaris in a frosty silence. Inside the townhouse, the warmth of the fireplace provides a cozy, safe haven.

You and Rhysand are curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The house is quiet; Amren is back at her apartment, Cassian is in Illyria (Gods help him, you can’t imagine the storm there), Azriel’s away on reconnaissance, and Mor winnowed to the cabin last night, claiming she needed some “alone time.” But you had a feeling she just wanted to leave the two of you here, together. 

You’ve known each other for centuries, since you were all young and reckless, before the world became complicated. Over the years, you’ve become more than friends — you’ve become constant in each other’s lives, someone to rely on through war, heartbreak, and everything in between. For a while, there was something between you — something unspoken but undeniably there. The way his hands lingered when he touched you, or how you’d catch him looking at you a little too long.

But whatever it was, it never grew beyond that. Time passed, and eventually, it seemed like he’d moved on. You told yourself you had, too. You never let it become a big deal, never let it interfere with the easy friendship you shared. It was just… there, hovering in the background, a feeling you’d long since learned to live with. And now was no different, chatting and playing card games on the couch, sharing a blanket by the fireplace. You would’ve thought it cliche if not for the fact that you’d been in this exact scenario more times than you could count — and nothing had happened.

Nothing will happen. 

“Place feels off,” you muse absently, shuffling the two cards in your hand as you consider your next move.

Rhysand chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Off how? Too quiet without Cass?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Well, yeah, that… but also just calmer.” You glance up at him, noticing the way the firelight casts soft shadows across his face. “We’re usually out doing something or surrounded by other people. Just not used to this much quiet, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully, drawing a card from the deck and placing it face up next to the 10 of clubs. Ace of hearts. “That’s true,” he agrees, glancing at the cards on the blanket. “But it’s a nice change of pace, don’t you think? A well-deserved one.”

You eye your own cards — 10 of spades and ace of clubs — two pair. You toss two peppermints into the makeshift betting pool. “Raise. It’s definitely safer,” you say with a shrug.

Rhys matches your bet, tossing in two more mints. “Safer? From what? Drunk fae trying to chat you up? Or Cassian making an ass of himself with every female in sight?” His brow quirks up as a grin spreads across his face. 

You burst out laughing, the image of Cassian’s failed attempts at flirtation all too vivid. “Both, actually,” you manage between fits of laughter, shaking your head. “That last time at Rita’s… that was something.”

Leaning back against the couch, he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “Do you remember that awful line Cass used on that poor girl? Something about his sword and–”

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Oh gods, don’t remind me. He really thought he was being clever.”

Rhys chuckles, rubbing his jaw. “He always thinks he’s clever. Like this—” He suddenly leans toward you, his voice dropping into a ridiculous impression of Cassian’s deep tone. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bigger the sword, bigger the—'”

You both dissolve into laughter before he can finish, your sides aching from how ridiculous it sounds.

He grins, gaze still playful as he mimics Cassian again, this time reaching out and gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “But then he’d get all serious,” Rhys murmurs, his voice dropping lower, soft and teasing now. “He’d do this… look into her eyes and say, ‘I could spend hours just watching the way you blush, imagining what else I could do to make you look like that.’”

The sudden shift in his tone and the warmth of his hand against your cheek make your breath catch. You freeze, the playful atmosphere suddenly charged. He holds your gaze, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes, and for a moment, it’s hard to remember this is supposed to be a joke. 

You laugh, but it’s quieter now, more nervous. “Cassian really said that?” you ask, but it’s hardly louder than a whisper. 

Rhys doesn’t drop his hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing your skin as he looks at you. “Well,” he says softly, his smile softer now, uncertain. “Maybe not like that… but, I guess… something like it.” You feel your face grow warm, a quiet tension slipping between you. His eyes search yours, and something unspoken passes between you both — something neither of you can ignore anymore. 

His voice is quieter when he speaks again, as though he’s only just noticing the change himself. “You okay?”

The question feels loaded like there’s more behind it than just casual concern. You nod, but your voice is stuck in your throat. You can’t tear your gaze away from his. He’s still so close. Rhys leans in slightly, his thumb moving to brush along your jawline now, the motion slower, more deliberate than before. His eyes flicker over your features, lingering on your lips for just a second too long. 

You swallow, heart pounding. “Just… surprised.”

“Surprised?” His brow lifts slightly, but his tone is softer, more serious now. “By what?”

By the way his touch sends a ripple of heat through you, by how your heart races under the intensity of his gaze. You don’t say that though. Instead, you let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “That you’re taking this Cass impression so seriously.”

Rhys huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers pause for a second, lingering on your neck. He doesn’t move away. “I’m not, really… just… You’re looking at me differently,” he says softly, almost like he’s noticing it for the first time. The room feels suddenly smaller, the crackling fire and storm outside fading into the background. 

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding. There’s a question in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the pull between you growing stronger. You’re both so close now, the warmth of his skin against yours more pronounced. 

Without breaking eye contact, Rhys’ hand gently slides down to rest at the back of your neck, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, time seems to stretch.

He leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. His lips brush against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a slow exploration, a testing of the waters. When you don’t move away, his kiss deepens, his lips melding with yours as the warmth between you ignites into something more intense. 

As the kiss between you and Rhysand grows more heated, the heat becomes almost unbearable. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of passion, and you find yourself in your undergarments, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet before him. The firelight flickers across the room, casting a warm glow that dances over both of you. You start to reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but suddenly, uncertainty creeps in. Your hands falter, and you pull back just enough to look up at him, a mixture of nervousness and determination in your eyes.

“I’m not really sure what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first time.”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from surprise to an intense, almost reverent focus. He takes a moment to process your confession, clearly stunned.

He speaks softly, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “After all these centuries, you’re still–”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “You’re still a virgin?” His gaze sharpens, the intensity of his stare turning into something more primal. 

When your only response is a nod, a slow, hungry smile spreads across his lips. “Gods, that’s incredible,” he breathes, his voice low and tinged with a dark thrill. Leaning in, his breath warms your ear. “You have no idea how much that turns me on. The thought of being the first one to touch you like this…” His hand slides over your head, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive caress. “The first to make you feel things you’ve never…” He inhales deeply, his nose brushing against your neck, “–felt before…”

Rhysand pulls back slightly, his hand gently gripping your chin, and he tilts your face up to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this… Guiding you through it, showing you everything…” His eyes flash with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. He traces his thumb over your lips, his touch charged. 

“Not everything; I’ve read romance novels,” you clarify, shifting your weight back onto your calves.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he lets out the barest breath of a scoff, shaking his head as if in awe. His eyes flicker with a dark amusement as his hand trails from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers toying with your hair. “Romance novels,” he repeats, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes betrays something darker. His thumb brushes your cheek, and his lips curve into a slow, teasing smile. “Well, then… you’re practically an expert, aren’t you?”

You feel the weight of his gaze as you fumble for a response, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Well, I mean–”

Rhysand cuts you off, his voice edged with raw desire. “I’m going to show you everything you need to know.” His grip on your hair tightens just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity. “Just focus on me and let me take control,” he murmurs, his voice low. “If you need anything, you speak up, alright?” The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like you’re melting.

You nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement, and his gaze doesn’t waver. His fingers trail lightly over your collarbone and down to the swell of your chest, his touch a teasing whisper against your skin. With a deep breath, you lean forward, your hands cautiously pulling down his underwear, and Rhysand’s breath hitches slightly as you expose him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand resting lightly on your head, guiding you as you lower yourself, taking him into your mouth.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of your movements and his encouraging murmurs. As you cautiously take him into your mouth, you focus on finding a rhythm, the unfamiliar texture and warmth making your pulse race. Your hands rest lightly on his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles as you move. Each gentle stroke is executed with trepidation and eagerness, guided by Rhysand’s soft, approving sounds.

Rhysand’s hands gently cradle your head, his grip firm but tender. “Damn,” he groans, his tone laced with surprise. “You’re a natural.” His praise sends a shiver through you, mingling with the heat of your desire. Though he guides you slightly, his touch remains light and encouraging. His voice drops to a low murmur, filled with adoration. “That’s it, just like that,” he urges, his breath hitching as you experiment with different motions. His nails gently graze your scalp, and he lets out a soft, appreciative groan when you press a flat tongue to the underside of his cock. “You feel so good, baby. Just keep going, you’re making me lose my mind.”

Every word from him makes you more determined to continue, your movements growing more confident as his reactions heighten your arousal. “You can take me deeper, I know you can,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “You’re doing so well, you got it,” and his hips start bucking into your mouth. Your own breathing becomes shallow as your throat constricts around him, the new sensation is overwhelming yet intoxicating.

With a low groan of approval, Rhysand suddenly shifts, his hands coming to rest of your shoulders. “Hold on a moment,” he says, helping you up from the floor, and guiding you back onto the couch with him, a dark hungry glint in his eyes. 

A hand reaches under you, deftly unclipping your bra with a single, smooth motion. He moves the other to the waistband of your underwear, and he slides both off of you tantalizingly slowly. He discards them with a casual flick, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable under his intense, appreciative gaze. 

“Go on, let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” he says, adjusting you with deliberate care so you’re sprawled out comfortably across the couch. His gaze smolders with hunger as he moves between your legs, his breath fanning over your inner thigh. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as he begins to tease, his tongue a tantalizing caress that makes you gasp and shiver. The sounds of his enjoyment mingling with yours create a symphony of shared desire, each touch sending waves of sensation through your body. 

Just as his tongue delves deeper, the sensation blurs your senses, making the room seem to spin and float. The combination of his skilled tongue and the disorienting rush of winnowing overwhelms you with a euphoric intensity. When your vision clears, you find yourself in Rhysand’s bedroom, his tongue still lavishing attention on you. He takes his time to savor every part of you. His movements are masterful, each flick and stroke of his tongue tailored to make you writhe in pleasure. He alternates between gentle, teasing laps, and more focused, firm strokes, finding the rhythm that has you gripping the sheets. 

His hands are relentless, roaming your body, occasionally tracing the curves of your thighs or the sensitive skin of your hips. He clasps your hands tightly, anchoring you as his deep, guttural moans vibrate through you, heightening every sensation and leaving you squirming with need. 

Amidst the physical pleasure, Rhysand begins to invade your mind with a barrage of filthy, electrifying thoughts. His voice, though unspoken, reverberates in your mind like a seductive whisper. “It’s going to feel so good when I fuck you,” he promises. “Picture how good it’s going to feel when I’m buried deep inside you, how you’ll be trembling under me.” The mental imagery is a pleasant surprise — he shows you vivid scenes of him thrusting into you with relentless vigor, making you gasp and shiver. “It’ll feel so much better than your fingers, darling.”

“Can you see it? Feel it?” he sends into your mind, his thoughts a sultry whisper caressing your consciousness. “Feel me pushing into you, filling you completely. Every thrust, every stroke… I want you to feel every inch of me, how your body will mold perfectly around my cock.” The intensity of his words only drove your arousal to a fever pitch, leaving you moaning and writhing with an urgent need. 

His thoughts also weave images of you coming undone, of him making you see the stars with his touch. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t know what to do with yourself. I’ll have you screaming my name, begging for more.” The raw, possessive desire only drives you closer to the edge, each thought and image adding to the pleasure building rapidly within you. “You’re my sweet little virgin now,” his voice growls in your mind. “But not for long. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging for my cock every chance you get. You’ll be a little whore for me won’t you? Needing to be filled again and again.”

When your climax finally crashes over you, it’s intense and all-consuming, leaving you gasping and trembling. Rhysand’s mental presence remains, a constant, darkly, satisfying presence as you ride out your orgasm. 

After you’ve come down from your high, Rhysand pulls back slightly, his gaze dark and hungry. He leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks softly. “See how easy that was? You’re going to be amazing, just like that. “

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his cock slick and hot against your folds. As he aligns himself, his voice is thick with desire “Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I want you? I’m going to fuck you so good, make you feel things you never imagined. You ready for me, sweetheart?” He looks up from where the tip of his cock lines up with your entrance, eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity.

You meet his gaze, your voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “I… I want you, Rhysand. I need you.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes matched by a fierce desire. “Please, don’t hold back.”

Rhysand’s smile turns predatory, his eyes alight with satisfaction. He maintains eye contact as he pushes inside, inch by inch, savoring every second of your tight, untried body struggling to accommodate him. “Does it hurt?” his voice drips with mockery and satisfaction when you squeeze your eyes shut. “Does it hurt having this pussy stretched out for the first time?” He watches your reactions intently, delighting in them as your expressions shift from nervous anticipation to surprised pleasure, your brows furrowing with the intensity of it all. 

He cradles the back of your head, tilting it down toward where your bodies are joined. “Look at that,” he breathes, his tone full of wonder. “Look at how you wrap around me. So… fucking tight — it’s like you’re sucking me in.”

The mewl you let out would be embarrassing if not for the overwhelming pleasure and mind-numbing stretch of his cock inside you. “Rhysand, please,” you whisper, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to steady yourself.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do, darling?” his voice is a lazy drawl, as though he has all the time in the world to tease you, to make you beg for more. His hips are still, the need to move evident in the tense muscles beneath your hands, but he holds back, watching you writhe beneath him.

“Please, Rhys, just move,” you whine, your body yearning for more, the slow stretch making you desperate. “Just want you… Want you to move.”

“Move?” He raises a brow at you, feigning confusion. “Move where? Move off of you?” He starts to pull out, slowly, torturously, and for a moment, the sensation feels good — until the realization hits that he’ll leave you empty. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around him, arms clinging to his neck to keep him in place.  

He chuckles darkly, a low, amused sound. “You’ll have to be more specific, I need to hear what you want, or…” He pulls out further, the head of his cock barely inside you now.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Rhys, fuck me, please.”

The glint in his eyes is dangerous, primal. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He thrusts back into you, slow but deep, filling you completely. “You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck. “You’ve never had anyone touch you like this before, have you? I’m the first… and I’ll be the only one to make you feel this way. Your fingers don’t even reach this deep, huh? You can’t even pleasure yourself the way that I will.” His words are gentle, but the power behind them is undeniable. “So pure, so untouched. You’re mine now. I’m going to make sure no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

The way he speaks, the deliberate pace of his thrusts as he starts to push in and out of you, has you melting beneath him, pleasure and helpless surrender pooling in your belly. Every inch of him fills you perfectly.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Look at how you take me, so well. So fucking tight and sweet, like you were made for this,” he growls, his breath puffing against your skin as he thrusts again, deeper this time. “You feel that, darling? That’s me, stretching you open, shaping this pretty pussy so it’ll only ever fit me.”

A gasp tears from your lips, your body overtaken by the sensation of him inside you, deeper than anything you could have imagined. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your legs trembling as you try to keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. “Rhys,” you whimper, your voice soft and breathless. “It’s so… so much.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, a dance of tongues and lips, exchanging breath ang longing. When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble. “It’s going to be more, sweetheart. So much more. You can take it though, I know you can.”

You shudder at his words, the physical and mental onslaught of pleasure overwhelming. “Rhys, I–” you gasp, struggling to speak as your mind spins. “I’ve never– fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he purrs, his pace quickening slightly, making you moan with every deep stroke. “You’ve never been fucked before. You didn’t know what you were missing, did you?”

Your breath catches, your hands fisting in the sheets as his words sink in. The sensation of being filled, stretched, and dominated by him is getting to be too much. “Rhys, please,” you whisper, “please, don’t stop.”

His lips curve into a wicked smile. “I’m not stopping. Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.” He thrusts into you harder now, making your body jolt with each sound of skin against skin. “No one else is ever going to fuck you like this. You’ll always want me. You’ll always need me.”

The pleasure building inside you is almost too much, the sensation of his cock slamming in and out of your tight heat. “It feels so good!” you cry out, your pretty noises spurring his desire. “I– I can’t… believe how good it–”

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You like the way I stretch you out. The way your body squeezes me like it’s never going to let go.” He moves faster, his thrusts becoming rougher, more demanding. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it.”

Your head is spinning, your body trembling as the pleasure builds. “I love it,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “I love the way you feel inside me, Rhysand.”

His eyes harden, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “That’s right. You love being fucked by me, don’t you? You love the way I make you feel, the way I take your virgin cunt.” His hand slides down your body, gripping your hip to keep his unrelenting pace. “And I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re screaming my name, until you can’t think of anything else but how good my cock feels inside you. So innocent… But not anymore, darling, you’re going to want this every single time you see me.”

Your muscles shake as you respond wantonly. “I want more, I want you to fuck me harder.” Rhysand groans, flipping you over without pulling you off his cock. His hands grip your hips as he pulls you closer, his cock slamming into you with renewed force.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But I’ll give it to you, if that’s what you want?” He glances at you for confirmation, though he already knows what he’ll see.You’ll look back at him with a blissful nod, your eyes heavy and barely open. You cry out as his pace turns punishing, far beyond what you’d imagined during those restless nights spent desperately rubbing your clit to thoughts of him. You can barely catch your breath as he fucks you for all you’re worth. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. His hands wander over you, the swell of your breasts, the soft skin of your neck. “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you? I can feel it. You’re so close. You’re going to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak, your voice lost to pleasure. “Rhys, please,” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge. “I’m so so close.”

He teases your ear lobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Come for me, go on. Show me how good it feels to have your virgin cunt fucked for the first time.”

“Feels so good, feels so–”

With a final thrust, you fall apart, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you. Rhysand’s name is a broken moan on your lips as the pleasure floods through you. Rhysand watches you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace never slowing. “That’s it,” he coaxes you through it. “That’s my girl. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Only mine.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex

[linoxpudding]

First Milestones

summary: the soft, emotional, and unforgettable moments of your baby's “firsts” — the tiny milestones that feel like entire galaxies for you both as parents

pairing: dad!skz x mom!reader

genre: fluff, humor

a/n: first time writing headcanons, hope you guys like it ♡

Dad!SKZ Masterlist

~°~

Bang Chan 🐺

Bang Chan lives for every milestone—he’s been tracking every coo, roll, and crawl in a special baby journal since day one.

He’s on baby duty while you’re in the kitchen. The TV is playing soft nursery rhymes in the background, and Chan is sitting cross-legged on the playmat, watching your daughter, Juliana, pull herself up using the couch.

“Look at you, strong little thing,” he smiles, holding his hands out encouragingly.

Then it happens. Your baby lets go and takes one… two… three wobbly steps toward him.

His eyes go wide. He freezes, then launches into excited chaos.

“Babe!! BABE COME HERE QUICK!!” he shouts, nearly tripping over a toy to get your attention.

You come rushing in, thinking something’s wrong—only to see your baby walking.

Tears well up in Chan’s eyes as he whispers,

“She—she's walking… you’re walking, baby!”

He doesn’t even bother grabbing his phone for a video—he’s too focused on holding out his arms, cheering your baby on like a proud, emotional golden retriever dad.

Once your baby reaches you, Chan immediately pulls you both into the biggest hug.

He kisses both your cheeks and Juliana’s tiny head, whispering how proud he is over and over.

Later that night, he writes the moment in his journal, complete with a doodle of the baby walking and a sticky note that reads:

“First steps. I’ll never forget today.”

Lee Know 🐰

Minho swore he wouldn’t cry over baby milestones—but he was absolutely lying to himself.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. You and Minho are cuddled up on the couch under a cozy blanket, coffee cups half-full, watching your 10-month-old son Mingi on the playmat.

Mingi is happily crawling around, absolutely fascinated with the cats. Especially Dori, who’s lying just out of reach, tail twitching.

Minho has his arm draped over your shoulders, a soft smile on his face as he watches your son and cats bond.

“They’re gonna be partners in crime,” he murmurs.

Then it happens.

A tiny, wobbly little voice breaks the peaceful silence:

“...Do…ri…”

You blink. He blinks. You both freeze.

“Did you…?” “Wait, did he just—?”

You both turn your heads slowly toward Mingi, who is now patting Dori gently and giggling like he just did the most amazing thing.

Lee Know sits straight up like he just heard a fire alarm.

“JAGIYA. THAT WAS HIS FIRST WORD.”

He practically throws the blanket off and rushes to the floor, crouching next to Mingi.

“Say it again, baby—Dori? Can you say Dori again?”

Mingi just giggles and reaches for the cat’s tail (which Minho gently redirects before Dori decides to leave).

You’re sitting there with your hand over your mouth, emotional, while Minho keeps whispering to himself: “His first word was one of the cats. I KNEW it. I KNEW IT.”

He scoops Mingi up and comes back to the couch, eyes shining.

“I thought it’d be Appa or Eomma. But no. Dori. The little traitor,” he says dramatically—while smiling so big his cheeks hurt.

That night, he calls his mom just to tell her the story. And yes, he brags to the other cats too.

“Your brother just said your name first. You better treat him like royalty.”

Seo Changbin 🐷🐇

Changbin always felt a little sting of regret for missing your son, Juwon’s first word. He was on tour when it happened, and although you FaceTimed him and he teared up live on camera, it wasn’t the same.

He really hoped he wouldn’t miss any big milestones again—and especially not for his daughter, Seowoon.

One afternoon, Changbin is in full “Dad Mode” — surrounded by IKEA instruction booklets, random screws, and planks that definitely weren’t labeled properly.

You’re on the couch, feeding Seowoon her snack and watching with quiet amusement as your husband mutters under his breath: “Why are there three leftover screws? What do they even go to?”

4-year-old Juwon is nearby, offering his toy hammer and occasionally asking things like, “Appa, are you building a rocket ship?”

Changbin grins at him. “Close. A dresser. For your sister. Same thing, right?”

Then, just as he’s hunched over the half-built furniture, he hears the tiniest, most delicate voice from behind: “...Dada.”

He freezes. You freeze. Juwon blinks. “Did Seowoon just say…?”

Changbin turns around so fast he almost knocks over the dresser.

“No. No way. Did you—Did she really—?”

You nod slowly, wide-eyed, as Seowoon looks up from her snack cup, grinning proudly and clapping her hands, “Dada!”

The screw in Changbin’s hand drops to the floor. His jaw does too.

He scrambles over, ignoring the mess, kneels in front of her, and gently cups her face, “Princess... you said my name. You said Dada...”

His voice cracks with emotion. He presses his forehead to hers, tears threatening to spill because he was here—no blurry video call, no missed moment

“I missed your brother’s first word,” he whispers, holding her close, “But not yours. Not yours.”

Juwon comes over and hugs his dad’s leg, "Appa, hug me too."

Changbin chuckles, pulling him in for a group hug.

You smile from the couch, your heart full, watching the love of your life hold both your kids like he’s never letting go.

Hwang Hyunjin 🥟

Ever since your son, Rowoon, turned six months, Hyunjin has been counting down the days to his first bite of solid food like it’s a Michelin-star event.

The night before, he’s prepping like he’s hosting a gala:

“Do we go with mashed carrots? Or should we puree sweet potatoes? This is his first taste of real flavor—he deserves elegance.”

You’re fully on board. You even go out and buy a tiny baby apron that says “Food Critic in Training.”

Morning arrives, and Hyunjin is wearing a silk robe over a plain tee like some artistic genius preparing a masterpiece.

The kitchen looks like a cooking show set—cute bowls, baby-sized spoons, a highchair with a cushion shaped like a cloud.

He even cues soft classical music in the background. “He needs ambiance.”

You hold your phone, recording everything like you’re making a mini documentary.

“Day one of Rowoon vs Food. Daddy’s the chef. Mommy’s the camerawoman. Stakes are high.”

You both carefully strap Rowoon into his highchair, Hyunjin whispering,

“Are you ready, my little prince? Daddy made this with love.”

He scoops the tiniest bit of mashed sweet potato and gently brings the spoon to son’s lips.

You zoom in dramatically as Rowoon’s mouth opens...and closes... and he makes a face like he just ate betrayal.

“Oh my god, he hates it—” you gasp.

Hyunjin freezes mid-spoon like he’s in a drama scene, “No... this can’t be. I pureed it by hand!”

But then—Rowoon opens his mouth again. Like he’s willing to give it one more chance.

The second bite? Less dramatic. More nom nom. He actually likes it.

Hyunjin's entire face lights up, “HE LIKES IT!!” he shouts.

You burst out laughing, zooming in on Rowoon’s messy, sweet-potato-covered face.

“We’ve got a foodie, folks.”

Hyunjin kisses Rowoon’s cheek despite the mush, whispering, “First food down. Next stop—Korean BBQ.”

Han Jisung 🐿

By the time your son, Jihoon, was born, Jisung was already a seasoned pro at diapers, burping, and twin negotiations.

But when it came to milestones, it still felt brand new.

Unlike his older siblings — Jisoo and Minsoo, who crawled like a champ very early on— Jihoon was the chillest baby ever. Always smiling, always content to just lie in the middle of chaos like a little prince.

Every night Jisung googles things like “how to encourage baby to crawl faster?” or “is my baby behind or just chill?”

He’s been doing "tummy time training" every day, cheering his baby on with way too much excitement: “C’mon, baby nugget! You got this! Crawl like your life depends on it!”

You both set up a full obstacle course one afternoon — pillows, soft toys, and finally, his secret weapon: a snack pouch.

Jisoo and Minsoo were already beside him, holding up toys and clapping like tiny hype squad members.

“Babyyyyy,” he calls, wiggling the pouch like it’s treasure, “You want this? Come get it, I believe in you!”

“Crawl! Crawl! Crawl!” Minsoo chanted.

You’re lying next to the baby with your phone ready, already wheezing at how serious Jisung is.

“You’re acting like this is the Olympics.”

“IT IS!” he whines.

The baby wobbles on all fours for the first time ever and both of you and your twins instantly lose it.

“WAIT. BABE. RECORD THIS. THIS IS IT.”

"Daddy, I'm so excited," Jisoo giggled.

You’re already filming, whispering excitedly: “He’s gonna do it. Hannie, he’s actually gonna—”

And then it happens.

One little hand. One little knee. Then the tiniest, cutest shuffle forward.

Jisung and the twins SCREAMS.

“OH MY GOD!!! HE’S CRAWLING! HE’S CRAWLING! BABY YOU’RE CRAWLING!”

The baby makes it two full scoots before flopping onto the floor with a satisfied gurgle. Jisung rushes over like he just watched his child win a Nobel Prize.

Jisoo clapped. Minsoo cheered. The whole house erupted with joy.

Lee Felix 🐥

Felix is obsessed with every tiny moment in your daughter, Yuna’s life. He’s always recording videos, taking pictures, and creating little memory books.

Every time Yuna babbles, he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

“Did you hear that? I’m pretty sure she said ‘Dada’ right there. Dada, right?” He’s already planning to tell her that “her first word was the best one.”

But today, your daughter is extra chatty, her eyes sparkling as she sits in Felix’s lap, reaching for a toy.

“C’mon, sweetie. Say ‘Dada’ for Daddy,” he coos, gently bouncing her in his lap.

You’re sitting across the room, watching, already knowing what’s about to happen. You’ve seen the signs.

Felix has been casually teasing her, trying to coax out a “Dada,” but you’re secretly thinking: “It’s going to be ‘Mama,’ isn’t it? It’s totally going to be ‘Mama.’”

Felix sees it, but he’s trying to hold onto the hope that his daughter will say his name first.

You’re laughing as Felix dramatically leans in, “I’m ready. Just say it... Dada.”

But then, the most magical thing happens. Yuna, with all her baby energy, looks at him with wide, glistening eyes and giggles.

“Yuna... Dada?”

She pauses, grabs Felix’s finger, and then...

“Mama.”

“WHAT? NOOO.” Felix gasps like his heart just skipped a beat.

You freeze. And then, you both burst out laughing. Felix's face is shocked, then it softens, his voice crackling with emotion.

“I knew it. I just knew you’d say Mama first.”

You’re trying to keep your composure but your heart’s melting from how sweet and soft Felix is in this moment.

“She’s so perfect,” you whisper.

Felix holds Yuna close, kissing the top of her head.

“I guess I’ll just have to work harder to get that ‘Dada,’ huh?”

And as you record everything, Felix, while holding your daughter, leans into you with a dramatic sigh: “I guess I’ll let you have this one... for now.”

The whole moment feels like pure sunshine, with Felix genuinely thrilled by her first word, even if it wasn’t the one he was hoping for.

Kim Seungmin 🐶

Seungmin is already incredibly emotional about everything with your son, Taesan. From the moment he held him, he’s been trying to document every single milestone (if he was not travelling for work) but somehow, this one felt extra special.

The day Taesan decides to take his first step, Seungmin was home fortunately. He was playing with him on the floor, smiling at his little boy who’s holding onto the couch for support.

Seungmin kept saying, “Come on, buddy. You got this. Just one little step.”

But honestly, he’s half-giggling and half-nervous because he's worried your son might fall right into his arms. (And honestly? Seungmin is lowkey terrified of the baby walking because this is a whole new level of chaos)

Taesan grabs onto the couch and teeters, swaying back and forth like a tiny wobbly penguin. Seungmin’s voice is full of anticipation.

“Are you gonna do it? Are you gonna walk?”

“C’mon, Taesan. Take the step, please. For Daddy.” He’s holding his breath.

Then... it happens.

With the tiniest wobbly leg movement, Taesan takes his first unsteady step, stumbling forward toward Seungmin, who gasps and almost falls over in excitement. He catches him right before he topples over.

“OH MY GOD! YOU DID IT!!” Seungmin’s voice cracks in pure joy.

Your son giggles, proud of himself, and Seungmin instantly scoops him up, lifting him in the air, doing an accidental spin because his emotions are a mess.

You’re standing nearby, watching all of this unfold, and Seungmin’s eyes meet yours, filled with overwhelming adoration.

“He just did it... He really did it.” He sounds like he’s in shock, but his heart is melting.

He’s bouncing Taesan in his arms, whispering to him in the sweetest voice, “You’re so grown up now, buddy. Daddy's so proud of you.”

You step forward, and he hands Taesan to you. He tries to hide the tears forming in his eyes, with a playful smile, but you know him too well.

“This is it. He’s gonna be running around soon, and I won’t be able to stop him.”

You laugh, already imagining all the new adventures your son will take. Seungmin rests his head on your shoulder and whispers, “I can’t believe how fast it’s all going. I’m just so proud of him.”

You and Seungmin share a quiet, emotional moment as you both marvel at your beautiful baby boy.

Yang Jeongin 🦊

From the moment your son, Sungheon, was born, he was obsessed with you. Sungheon’s eyes would always follow you around the room, and whenever you held him, he’d snuggle into your chest like he knew you were his safe place.

Jeongin couldn’t get enough of the way his son was so attached to you, always calling you “Mommy” with his baby babbles that made both of you melt.

“He’s already my biggest competition,” Jeongin would joke, pretending to be jealous of the connection you shared.

One evening, as you’re cuddling on the couch, the baby, now a little older, is lying on your chest, his head resting over your heart.

You’re gently stroking his hair, whispering softly, and Jeongin is sitting nearby, watching the two of you, already in love with the moment.

Out of nowhere, your son lifts his little head, looks at you with the biggest, most innocent eyes, and leans in toward your cheek.

He plants the softest, tiniest kiss on your face, almost like he’s been practicing.

“Oh my god.” Jeongin’s voice cracks as he watches, his heart doing flips.

He can’t help but laugh, both from surprise and joy.

“Did he just...?”

Your heart explodes at the tiny kiss. You freeze for a second, not expecting it, and then look at Jeongin.

“I can’t believe he just kissed me!” you say in awe.

Jeongin looks like he’s about to explode with pride, but he’s also so proud of how sweet and loving your son is already. He hypes it up.

“Oh no, it’s happening. He’s already obsessed with you, and now he’s kissing you! What do I even do?” His voice is full of exaggerated jealousy, but there’s nothing but love in his eyes.

You hold your baby closer, and Jeongin immediately whips out his phone to FaceTime his mom.

“Mom, Mom, guess what! Guess who just kissed Mommy for the first time! Look at him!” Jeongin’s excitement is contagious as he shows your son’s adorable face on the screen.

The baby, now snuggling back into your chest, yawns, and then gives you another tiny kiss on your cheek, this time even more adorable than before.

“Mommy,” he says softly, his voice still tiny, but clear.

“That’s it. You're his favorite now. There’s no going back,” Jeongin teases, making a dramatic face.

He kisses your forehead, then leans in to kiss Sungheon's head, full of soft affection.

“But, I’m still your favorite, right?” He asks you with a cheeky grin.

You smile up at Jeongin, holding Sungheon close.

“Of course, Daddy. But just so you know, I think we both know who’s going to steal all the kisses from now on.”

Jeongin dramatically pouts for a second before playfully laughing. “Okay, fine. But you know I’m still the best when it comes to kisses, right?”

You kiss his cheek, teasing back. “We’ll see, Daddy. We’ll see.”

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

Permanent Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @notmedina127 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @beabidoobee @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg

Dad!SKZ Taglist:

@butterflydemons @hhjlvr @smiileflower

[kodaswrld]

tips for depressed, chronically ill, & disabled littles.

please reblog to help spread awareness!

it can sometimes be hard to feel little when you spend a lot of time in pain, bedridden, dealing with scary big thoughts, or any of the other things that can accompany mental or physical disabilities so these are things u can do to feel small with little effort.

ᯓ★ keep soft blankets + stuffies near you

literally what’s smaller than having your soft little comfort plushes with you? this is probably the easiest thing u can do that will make you feel at least a little smaller.

ᯓ★ download mobile games for kids

if you aren’t someone who can get up and down off the floor or if you’re in a lot of pain, or if its just a rough day and you want to stay in bed little kid games are good for feeling tiny.

ᯓ★ play baby music or soft lullabies 

if you’re not feeling up to playing at all and just need to rest, lullabies and nursery rhymes are rlly good for helping you rest and helping you feel tiny.

ᯓ★ age regression fanfic

this might sound silly but for littles with chronic pain something that genuinely can help is mood boards, one shots, etc. about ur favorite fictional cgs.

ᯓ★ think of your ‘lazy’ clothes as baby clothes

toddlers and babies are almost always dressed in comfy soft clothes so if you’re always in your soft sweatpants or cozy pjs to alleviate discomfort it’s just like little kids getting dressed in their soft little clothes!

ᯓ★ middle regression is always an option

if you’re worried about regressing because you have to take care of yourself (ex. handle a walking aid, medicine, etc.) middle regression is super accessible because you can be regressed and do a lot of the things big you can already do

middle regression can also entail less rambunctious/active play (videos games, reading, coloring, etc.)

ᯓ★ audio books 

if you look up ‘audio kids books’ or some form of that on youtube you can find kids stories read aloud! its something super fun that can make you feel small and you can do it anywhere at anytime.

ᯓ★ calming kids activities 

there are a whole bunch of websites that have ‘calm down’ activities for when kids are winding down from rambunctious play (playing with play dough, sensory toys, singing abcs/nursery rhyme games)

ᯓ★ remember not all regression looks the same

you don’t have to do anything to be small or to be valid as a regressor, regression looks different for everyone. there are ppl who regress and watch horror movies or ppl who regress while doing big kid things like going to the store or to school. your disability, no matter what form it comes in, does not invalidate your regression.

if you’re a little with disabilities, mama koda loves you!!

[humanjarvis]

serenade

synopsis: when top music critic sylus qin gives your new album a scathing review, you plan a performance to make him pay. 

tags: celebrity au, porn with plot, enemies to lovers (reader hates him, sylus is generally a bastard but just doing his job), mirror sex, p in v, light choking, moderate biting, size difference, dramatic reader, reader does some light internet stalking, brief angst only bc sylus’s review was mean, he does something nice at the end to make up for it, inspired by dandelion by ariana grande pairing: music critic!sylus x pop star!fem reader word count: 7.2k

a/n: writing this was a traumatic experience i literally decided i was going to finish and upload today 12 hours ago because i cannot have this in my drafts any longer

I. THE RATING

 “A fucking 4.7?!” you screech, hurling your phone across the bed in horror.

It must be a mistake. A typo, or maybe your eyesight has gotten worse since your last checkup. Paparazzi cameras can do that, your optometrist had told you once. Yes. You’re sure that’s the case.

Taking a moment to breathe—hyperventilate, more like—you snatch the device back up and double-check with wild eyes.

And sure enough, in big bold letters: Four. Point. Seven.

There was no way. No fucking way that that hard-ass snobby bastard Sylus Qin had given your new album—the record you’d poured your heart and soul into—a 4.7/10 rating.

You refresh and refresh, but the numbers stay the same. 4.7, followed by heartless jabs that carve into your chest like daggers. Failed. Uninspired. Noise. 

You must have died last night, somehow. You must be dead right now. And for some reason unbeknownst to you—you’ll have to talk it out with God if you ever get the chance—you had woken up in Hell. 

Life as you knew it was over. The little ghouls who hounded you online were going to throw you to the wolves. Your agent would be lucky to book you at a high school bake sale. The reporters—if you even counted as a celebrity anymore—would never let this go. And there was only one man to blame. 

Sylus Qin. 

The name alone struck fear into the hearts of the entire pop industry. Not even the living legends with decades-long careers were safe. 

The man himself was an enigma, with little known of him other than his unnaturally deep voice and moderately vampiric appearance. But the reputation that preceded him was that of the most renowned music critic alive. 

No one knew how he got his start—maybe he’d just spawned onto Earth one day, slashing dreams and breaking hearts. Or maybe his mother had played him the classics while she carried him, murmuring to her belly about what true music was, and he’d been ranting about artistic integrity and sonic evolution since before he could walk. 

No matter what his story was, the facts were that your peers lived in terror of a bad Sylus Qin review—or any Sylus Qin review, really. He’d ruined so many careers, it was like he had a yearly quota. 

And the prick had just given what you’d thought was your magnum opus the industry equivalent of a public hanging.

As frustrated tears well in your eyes, you take a look around the house you’d only just managed to buy—the cozy Gothic fireplace, the customized in-home studio, and the quaint little garden. It was all still so new to you. And just like that, you’d have to give it up soon. 

You were wholly, utterly, and hopelessly fucked. 

***

Death. You’d imagined it’d be…more peaceful. Less emotional devastation, more belated introspection. 

But as you shift under the weighted blanket you’d rolled yourself up in, the sudden movement disturbing the heap of tear-stained tissues on top of you, you realize how much you hate being wrong. 

Your life had officially been over for almost 22 hours. And in those hours, you’d stared at the wall, ignored 36 text messages, opened and immediately closed your socials countless times, and sobbed into your satin pillowcase. 

As you roll away from the sliver of sunlight slipping through your curtains with a pained hiss, you hear the heavy footsteps climbing up your marble staircase. 

Oh well, you shrug inwardly. Not like it can get any worse. If it’s an intruder, they can have at it. Put me out of my misery. 

But as a familiar pattern of knocks precedes the door swinging open, allowing more light than you’d seen in the last day to flood the room, you realize that this may be a fate worse than brutal murder. 

“You can’t answer your phone anymore or something?” the tenor voice of Devon, your beloved, overbearing manager cuts through the room. 

“Go away,” you mumble, the sound muffled by the heavy blanket covering your mouth. 

You hear an incredulous snort. “Go awa—Girl, get up,” he snaps, walking up to tug the blanket off of you. As he heaves it to the foot of the bed, the army of tissues scatters across the room like huge snowflakes of failure, and your jostled body ends up sprawled in an almost-perfect diagonal from the impact. 

“I’ve been calling you all morning! And not only do you not pick up, but you block my number? You had me rushing over here to do a wellness check like you died or something.” 

“Oh. Well,” you begin nonchalantly. “In case you haven’t heard, I did. Yesterday. And I’m finding it to be quite pleasant, actually,” you lie through your teeth and purse your lips, “so I’d like to continue being dead, please. Alone.” 

“Yeah. Right,” he responds, mouth wedged open in a clearly annoyed grimace. “Okay, we do not have time for this, girl. You got a fan engagement livestream scheduled for this evening. You’ve never canceled a stream, not even when you lost your voice from that virus that one time. You really gonna let that man break your streak?” 

At the mere reference to his existence, your face shrivels and you curl into a defensive ball. “Oh, what’s the point?” you wail, shoving your face into the mattress. “There will probably only be 4.7 viewers. And then the tabloids will be filled with news about how I’m talentless and unpopular.” 

Devon closes his eyes, pinches the mahogany skin of his prominent nose, and releases a slow, controlled exhale. 

“Okay,” he starts, visibly switching tactics. “If your own fans—you know, the people who made you famous—can’t get you out of bed, maybe this will.” He takes a deep breath, as if bracing for impact, before continuing. “I have it on good authority that Sylus Qin is doing a TV interview. Tonight.”

And in the middle of an agonized writhe, you freeze in place. 

“He never does interviews,” you say lowly, voice suddenly hard enough to cut diamond. “He’s never done an interview, D. Stop bullshitting.” 

“Dead serious,” he replies, shoving his too-bright phone in your still sideways face. And sure enough, mysterious critic act be damned, Sylus Qin’s name is in bright bold letters on the hottest talk show in the country’s latest social post. 

Failing to suppress the anxious pang in your chest, you swallow thickly. “It’s…real. You weren’t….he’s actually going to…right after…he…” The world starts spinning as you trail off, and when the dry heaves start up on their own, you wonder if it’s possible to die twice. 

“Chill! Girl, chill,” Devon yells, firmly sitting you up on the bed. “My contact in production said he’s not talking about his work. He’ll be there to announce something, so he shouldn’t mention you unless they ask.” 

“Unless they ask,” you cry, slapping your palms to your face. 

“Which they won’t,” he adds in unsuccessful reassurance. “I just figured it might wake you up a bit. You’ve never seen him before, right? Maybe some exposure therapy will help.” 

Chewing your bottom lip hard enough to leave marks, you consider your options. You could either kick your manager out and wallow in bed until you get a foreclosure notice, or get up, grit your teeth through the livestream, and rush back to your bedroom afterwards to hate-watch Sylus on national television and pray he doesn’t speak your name. 

Your conscience and the voice in your head confer, and it seems like your anxiety has beaten your depression this time. Second option it is. 

II. THE INTERVIEW

After an excruciating hour of smiling blankly, avoiding talking about your album, and pretending not to see cruel comments, the stream is over. 

It was time to stare Death in the face. 

With 8 minutes to spare, you run up the stairs from the streaming setup in your studio and catapult into your walk-in closet, ripping your intricate work clothes off and diving into the comfiest loungewear you can find. If you were going to do this, you were going to do it comfortably. 

3 minutes. You dim the lights and flip the TV on, having already set it to the right channel in a bout of paranoia hours ago. Your house is empty except for you, but you trot over to shut the door just in case. A potential humiliation ritual was a private affair. 

And with 30 seconds to go, you unmute the TV and slowly climb onto your bed, sitting cross-legged and letting out the kind of breath you’d spent hundreds on mastering in pilates. 

The cheery, inauthentic talk show theme fills your ears, and you lift your eyelids open in resolve. 

A corny host intro. A brief band performance. And then, a tall white-haired man is strolling across your screen. 

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the illustrious Sylus Qin! 

Your heart stops. 

“Thank you, it’s my pleasure to be here,” a baritone purr rings out. Unnaturally deep voice, huh. They’d been right about one thing.

And then he sits on the smooth leather couch, turning his body to face the camera. 

Sylus Qin is…young. Not some wrinkled up curmudgeon out to terrorize the youth in his bitter old age. By the looks of it, he hasn’t even reached his 40s yet. 

Another observation. Sylus Qin is big. To be tall is one thing—not that special in a world of models doubling as singers—but this guy nearly swallows the sofa with his huge, obviously muscled frame. You wonder how he finds the time to work out between ruining lives. 

And as you take in his chiseled appearance—certainly vampiric, you think—you realize with unprecedented dread: Sylus Qin is handsome. 

“Mr. Qin,” the host begins, “we know this opportunity is extremely rare, so let me just say—it is our absolute honor to have you here during such a busy time for you.” 

It’s an ambiguous reference, probably not even to his most recent work, but you flinch backwards anyway. 

“Not a problem at all,” he drawls smoothly. “And just ‘Sylus’ is fine. I heard you all like to…have fun on this show.” He finishes the reply with a conspiratorial smirk, and you can all but see the women in the audience swoon at his despicable charm. “Like you said, this is a rare moment. You’re here to ask, and I’m here to answer. So, ask away.” 

“Perfect,” the host starts. “So, Mr—ahem—Sylus, you’ve built your reputation through exclusive music correspondence for a variety of publications…” 

***

As the minutes tick by and your hatred turns to intrigue, you start to really study the man in front of you. Learn his unique cadence, contemplate the angle of his aristocratic nose. Take in the way his ruby eyes glint when he talks about music, the way he sounds older than the age listed on his Wikipedia. And his IMDb. And his famousbirthdays.com. You’d triple-checked. 

You note the way he smirks at difficult questions, as if welcoming the challenge and begging for something harder. The way he crosses and uncrosses his thick, long legs as he weaves his answers into an impromptu PR masterclass. The way he panders to the audience so subtly you’d think it natural—if not for the way his large palms open when he looks their way, as if luring them into his trap from the stage. 

Fuck, he’s hot. And you can’t even try to pretend otherwise. 

Until a particularly sore subject snaps you out of your ogling and draws you back into the conversation.

“Now, Sylus, you may be a critic, but you’ve received some criticism yourself lately for your ‘harsh and grating’ reviews, especially in the pop sphere. Some go as far as to claim you’re even biased against pop artists. What do you say to that?”

And Sylus Qin chuckles. The bastard chuckles. As if he actually finds it funny. 

“I give albums and their creators the reviews they earn,” he says evenly. “I didn’t get to where I am today by handing out participation trophies.” 

He’s doubling down. You can’t believe he’s doubling down. 

“I’ve heard that some recent articles of mine have…ruffled some feathers. There’s never a shortage of angry fans in my inbox,” he shrugs. “But it’s my job to speak up when projects are…uninspired. You all get better music that way,” he quips, spreading his palms once more. 

Uninspired. Uninspired. The word that’s flashed in your head nonstop for the past 36 hours. A failed ascent to the top of pop stardom reveals itself as little more than uninspired noise. 

That was the exact quote he’d left in his scathing review of your album—you remembered. Because you’d read it—cried to it—over. And over. And over. And he’d just alluded to it with a smirk on his face, the crowd eating straight from his outstretched hands, in front of the entire country. 

Ugly, uncontrollable shame heats your face as the all too familiar tears sting your eyes once more. As you search for the remote through blurry vision, your blood burns hotter than lava, and you curse yourself for letting your guard down. For seeing any redeeming qualities—even if only physical—in a man with his reputation. With his lack of empathy. 

When your fingers close around the controller and you stumble off the bed, more than ready to click the TV off and return to the glorious rot-until-you-get-kicked-out plan, you freeze as Sylus speaks again. 

“That said,” he continues, “I encourage any artists who’ve been offended by my commentary to come chat about it in person. That’s my reason for coming here, after all—to announce that I’ll be attending the annual Spirit Awards this year.” 

Thumb hovering over the “off” button, you blink your tears away in disbelief. The Spirit Awards. You know that show. You know that show well. Because as thanks for your viral performance at last year’s event, you’d been invited to sing in the main performance slot. 

You were going to headline. And Sylus Qin would be your audience. 

As the interview ends and his figure fades to black with the next commercial, a sudden realization talks you down from the ledge. 

This was your chance. To give the best damn show you’d ever put on, to reclaim the work whose meaning had been stolen from you. To sink his reputation, and to save yours. 

Maybe it’s a good thing he looks the way he does, you think, a slow smile spreading across your increasingly mischievous face.

Because for the first time in almost two days, you’re confident. Confident that you’ll not only get him to change his mind, but that you’ll get him. Period. 

Sylus Qin, we’ll see about that fucking 4.7 when I’m done with you.

III. THE PLAN

Bleary eyes. A full night of sleep lost. And three 12-ounce iced coffees delivered straight to your door. 

But after eight and a half hours, Operation: Silence Sylus was a go. 

After the interview, you’d set up a makeshift situation room in your studio. You’d hauled all your devices—phone, laptop, monitor, smart watch, you name it—into the space for backup. Anything that could find information, you needed. You’d have even dragged your smart microwave in here if you could figure out the wires. 

But, all things considered, the setup had been the easy part. Because what came after was an informal case study on the most elusive man in history. 

You’d started simple: his social media. 

There was more to work with than you’d expected, but nothing too crazy. He had 2.6 million followers—a fraction of yours, you’d smirked, but still good for someone whose work is out of the spotlight.

His photos had no discernible aesthetic, as if he posted them straight from his camera roll. And his upload patterns…the lack of marketing was so severe it sent a shiver down your spine. The man posted a few times a year, if that, and the captions he did include were vague and simple. He’s lying about his age, you’d decided, because this guy is old as fuck. 

But Sylus’s dire need for a social media manager was far from the most interesting thing you’d noticed. No, in all your 264 weeks’ worth of research—you’d scrolled until the app wouldn’t let you refresh anymore—not a single other person was featured on his feed. Like, there’d been more motorcycle pictures than humans on there. You’d have chalked it up to the narcissism typical of men like him, but he hardly even posted his own face. 

And as shameful as it was to stalk the man who’d publicly humiliated you’s Instagram to see if he had a girlfriend, it was absolutely necessary. If the answer was yes, it’d put the whole plan in jeopardy! You were simply doing your job as a diligent creative, covering all your bases in advance. How would you seduce him into changing his mind about you if he had a fucking girlfriend? Or worse? 

That would be your next stop, then, you’d nodded resolutely. His dating history. 

But no matter how many articles you read; how many variations of Sylus Qin girlfriend, sylus Qin single, Sylus qin married, sylus qin Boyfriend you’d put in the search bar; how many viruses you’d probably gotten on your laptop from clicking through trashy tabloid sites; there was nothing. No photos, no reported sightings, hardly even a rumor. You’d typed in Sylus Qin asexual as a last resort, but that came back empty, too. 

You’d sat in disbelief for a second, wondering how he could be so…clean. Even with his…glowing personality, his looks and success more than made up for any quirks. In this town, people should have been throwing themselves at him left and right, bogeyman allegations be damned. 

But there was no mistaking it. As far as romance was concerned, the man was a blank slate. 

Good thing you were coming for him with a big feather pen, ready to brand your name into his skin.

***

After analyzing his public image and making sure no…obstacles would block your path, it was time for a personality study. And where better to start than his full catalogue of reviews? His portfolio was practically front and center on his publication’s website—all 114 articles offered to you on a silver platter. 

Almost immediately, you’d taken a nervous breath and hastily clicked past the most recent page. The abject horror of the 4.7 was still too fresh on your mind, and you’d be damned if tonight ended with a traumatic episode. So you’d landed on the second most recent page, starting with reviews from a couple months ago. And you’d read. 

104 irritatingly confident articles. You’d read his praise, his disappointment, his bewilderment, his disgust. His beautifully packaged this-person-should-be-sent-to-prison-for-making-this-es. No matter how much you disagreed with some—most—of his takes, he was an incredible writer. 

He tolerated jazz the most, it seemed. The smooth melodies, the warm embrace of the trumpet, trombone, and sax. It was so incredibly old. But it suited him. 

“The riveting blend of brass and reed solos marks the triumphant rebirth of a fallen genre,” he’d complimented a band earlier this year. Looking at his preferences, it was no wonder why your synth-heavy pop beats seemed to have personally offended him. 

But for all the things Sylus thought he knew about you, he was missing a few key items:

You were desperate. To win back the public, to win his approval, to win him. 

You were planning a deluxe album with six new songs. And one of those songs said please fuck me disguised under a sensual trumpet solo. 

You were desperate enough to release said album and perform said song a month early, solely to prove a point. 

And with one screaming match of a phone call to Devon at 6 a.m., it’d been done. 

You hadn’t coordinated with your dancers yet. Or told your label. Or informed the Spirit Awards producers that you’d be changing your set. But in your sleep-deprived, caffeine-jittered mind, it was all but confirmed. Your next performance would be dedicated to Sylus Qin. 

There was only one more piece to put into place. With newfound conviction, you’d reopened his Instagram and clicked “Direct Message” before you could talk yourself out of it. And while you’d have liked to send him a colorful list of expletives, you maintained your professionalism. 

Hi! I heard you’re going to the Spirits next Sunday. Hope you’re in the crowd for my performance—would love to chat after :) 

The passive aggressive smiley face of doom. Sent and delivered. 

His fate was sealed, but he didn’t know it yet.  

Between excited bounces of your leg, you’d taken a final pass at his portfolio, and your eyes found your name before you could stop them. 

“Deeming the music passable is more of a compliment than any listener should be willing to give. A failed ascent to the top of pop stardom reveals itself as little more than uninspired noise.”

Failed. Uninspired. Noise. There they were again, the insults seared into the back of your mind. 

A reminder of your shame, but a motivator for you to make him eat his words. 

IV. THE PREP

You’d always loved awards shows.

The buzz of energy backstage, the rushed glimpses of peers and legends, the flamboyant accessories and vibrant strips of fabric strewn across the floor. The kind of chaos you’d learned to thrive in. 

After making the rounds of greetings and introductions, you take a break outside your dressing room in the main hall. Your stage outfit was already on and hidden under a frilly robe; you always liked to arrive early in case of any mishaps. (Lesson learned from the time you’d been fashionably late and had to go onstage in an unfashionable loose corset. That had slipped down mid-song.)

Chatting with your head dancer, you laugh at a video she shows you on her phone before spotting something in the corner of your eye: a flash of white hair. 

Your body goes rigid.

But the lightning-quick twitch in your eye is forcing you to turn around, and your breath hitches as soon as you do. 

Sylus Qin is here. 

Just as he said he’d be, you suppose, but it’s no less surreal seeing the object of your warring emotions in the flesh. 

Somehow, he’s taller than he looks on camera. Bigger, too. How someone whose job involved hunching over a laptop writing hate mail every day could be built like a professional athlete, you’d never know. 

Black slacks are snug around his strong legs, and he’s paired them with a silken, wine-red shirt that you’re sure would match the color of his eyes if he’d just turn arou—

It’s like he heard you. Felt you. 

Because before you can even finish your thought, Sylus Qin’s bewitching ruby eyes are on you. 

When your jaw drops slightly, his lips curl. And as that lazy, taunting, I’m-better-than-you smirk spreads across his gorgeous face, it reignites the feelings that got you here. The hatred and humiliation and unyielding spite.

So with flames in your eyes, you pat the dancer on the back and give her a cheerful platitude before storming—no, sauntering, you should saunter—over. 

When he bends his neck to accommodate your comparatively small stature, Sylus Qin watches you like you’re his favorite reality show. 

“Sylus!” you squeal, pulling him into a side hug. One thing you’d learned in the industry: overfamiliarity was the best form of offense. “It’s so nice to see you here! I’m glad you could make it.” 

You expect him to falter. To push away from you in a decidedly rude yet necessarily humanizing show of uncertainty. For that condescending smirk to waver in confusion, only a little. 

But to your surprise, he simply wraps a very muscled arm around you and returns your embrace. He’d been trained well, you lament with an inward groan. 

“It’s great to be here,” he says smoothly, and the way he rumbles your name makes you want to forego the performance entirely and beg him to take you here and now. “Especially since someone was nice enough to invite me to watch their performance. I get the opposite, usually—people typically fake illness when I watch them in person—so I just had to see this for myself,” he drawls. 

At some point, he’d laid his warm hand on your robe-clad shoulder, rubbing up and down in time with his slow words. But like that wasn’t enough, you’d almost been too wrapped up in his heady scent to notice. In his teasing embrace, the smell of spice, leather, and a hint of pomegranate envelop you, and you have to school your expression to look like you aren’t huffing it in. 

As you stare up at him blinking dumbly, you notice his smirk widen, and somewhere in the back of your head you remember that conversations are two-sided. 

“Y-yes,” you try to assert, cursing the way your voice shakes with need. “It’s right up your alley. I think—I know you’ll like it.” 

“You know, hm?” he quirks a brow, circling his thumb against your arm. 

“I know. It’s a new song, much more to your liking. Think of it as…a tribute. To your glowing review of me,” you reply coldly, untangling yourself from his hold despite your body’s protests. If you had any chance tonight, you had to level the playing field. Which meant Sylus Qin could not touch you anymore. 

“Mm,” he hums, eyes lingering on the spot you’d detached yourself from before flicking up to your face. “I reviewed your album, sweetie. Not you. Even so, nothing I said was untrue,” he shrugs as you bristle with rage. “But…if your performance is to my taste, as you claim, then you’ll know my review soon after. Before the end of the night, I’d say.”

His words are intentionally vague, as if he’s goading you into asking what he means. But under the heat of his gaze, you’re too prideful and angry and turned on to ask for clarification. 

“Then I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” you challenge him with a saccharine smile. 

He nods plainly, as if merely entertaining the idea of you ever impressing him. “I guess we will.” 

That twitch in your eye? It’s back with a vengeance. 

Before it can overtake your whole face, you spin on your heel and sashay away from him, pretending not to care if he watches you leave or not. 

Refusing to stop before you’re out of his sight, you disappear into your dressing room and slump into the nearest chair. As the stylists flock over to put the last touches on your hair and makeup, you try not to chew your nails off and ruin your fresh manicure. Damn him, you think for the 300th time in a week. 

***

In the center of the room, a monitor broadcasts the show’s live feed. The early portions go by in a blink—time flies when you have pre-seduction attempt anxiety, you guess—and before you know it, it’s 10 minutes to showtime. 

As soon as you’re clear to set up on stage, you make a beeline for the curtain and pull it back ever so slightly, looking for Sylus in the crowd. And just to your luck, there he is, sitting pretty in the second fucking row. Great if you don’t mess up, catastrophic if you do. 

Just as his all-knowing eyes shift toward the stage, as if he somehow felt your gaze from afar, you inch back into the inky shadows of the curtain. 

Two minutes to go. Clenching your hands into fists, you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe. 

It was time to channel the outrage, embarrassment, and devastatingly irritating lust into the performance of your life. 

V. THE SHOW

The soft swells of a trumpet float through the hushed arena.

The player, first chair in a local jazz ensemble, sways gently to the beat, his dark skin glowing in the warm stage lights. 

In time with the soulful melody, dozens of dancers fan out around the bar set, fiddling with prop bottles of fake booze. Your hours of research had pointed you in one direction: a speakeasy theme. 

Perfect for a jazz intro, and seductive enough to get your point across without getting you banned from live television. 

The outfit under your robe was a modern take on the 1920s: a bejeweled crimson flapper dress, sharp black stilettos, and a thick raven’s feather nestled in your hair. 

Just like you’d practiced, you stumble onto the set, miming drunken confusion as you trip into a male dancer’s arms. You shoot him a flirtatious smile when he steadies you, only for your attention to be captured by the trumpet still crooning in the background.

Enraptured by the player, you glide across the stage to lean against him, standing back-to-back with your hands on your heart. The tassels on your dress flow in time with the sultry swirls of your hips. 

A few more beats, and the intricate solo dwindles into the main riff that marks the true beginning of your set, to the audible gasps of the crowd. Look, you liked jazz as much as anyone—well, maybe not someone—but this was still your song. Your stage. And you were here to wake it up! As good as the player was, you had hypothetical sex to sing about. 

So the trumpet fades out, replaced by a poppy trap beat. Between each drum hit, your female dancers crowd you, tearing off the edges of your dress until you’re left in a shimmering red bodysuit. 

Strutting across the stage, you work through the lyrics of the first verse, eyeing the audience as you sing for someone special to come and take what he wants from you. 

The way you prowl from edge to edge is suggestive, inviting. The screams of the fans drown out the sound in your earpiece, but the winks you give them are only for show. You’d decided a week ago that you’d be a bad idol tonight. You’d make up for it later—a giveaway, follow spree, or something—but tonight, your focus was reserved for one man. 

As you ease into the chorus, your muscles glint under the twinkling lights, flexing in time with fluid spreads of your arms and gentle footwork. A siren song is what you’re singing, rhythmic pleas for a partner to make good on his promise falling from your lips. 

The next verse brings a slowdown in the melody that you meet with sensual rolls of your hips. Twisting your frame, you slide a purposeful hand down to rest just above your pelvis, tangling the other in your hair. 

The beat picks back up as you lead a line of men down the steps and into the audience, playfully evading their touches. It’s a calculated game of cat and mouse—one you’d hoped would pique the interest of the man you’d done this for. And as you parade right behind his row, boldly ghosting a hand over his shoulder in the dim crowd lighting, the tension in his muscles tells you you’d been right.

You can’t see his face, but the thought of him suffering right now is so satisfying, you have to fight to keep the vindictive smile off your face. Revitalized, you flounce back onstage right as the bridge melts into the final chorus—your favorite part of the show. 

Because while you’d been working the crowd, the crew had lined up seven shiny motorcycles at the front of the stage. Six were for your dancers, of course, but the seventh? That one was special. You’d gone through hell to get that bike on time—the same luxury model that was plastered all over Sylus Qin’s Instagram. The seventh bike was yours.

Taking your place in the center, you swing a leg over the seat and lower your hips gracefully, snapping back into the final moves of the choreography. 

With a daring raise of your eyebrow, you glance at his massive frame in the second row. He’s relaxed now, body no longer rigid with surprise. A bit too relaxed, you think, with the way his legs are spread apart, thumb swiping lazily across his smirking mouth. His gaze locks onto the familiar brand etched into the side of the bike before traveling up to yours, and the half a second of eye contact sends a shudder down your spine. 

Between hazy, hopefully covert blinks, you hum out the last note of the song to thunderous applause. When you release your ending pose, waving to the sea of cheering faces, your eyes find his seat once more.

But Sylus Qin is gone.

VI. THE AFTERMATH

The moment you step backstage, a flood of congratulations greets you. 

Dancers, friends, and strangers huddle all around you, whooping with joy at your undeniable triumph.

But between the friendly pats on your shoulders, sweaty hugs, and heaving breaths, you wonder if tonight can be called a success at all. 

Hours and hours of mourning your young career. Of research that, in any other circumstance, probably would have gotten you on a watchlist. Of hard work, of pivoting, of betting your entire future on the hope that he’d break. And he’d just…left. 

You were never one to stop a celebration early, but the burning pangs of defeat are too much to bear. With a tight smile and a flick of your card into the nearest hand—drinks are on you tonight—you trudge back to the solace of your dressing room. 

And the scent of leather and spice hits you a second too late. 

Because in all his wicked glory, Sylus Qin is in your empty dressing room, lounging in your chair like he owns the place. 

Your initial reaction—a startled jump and a choked squeak—has his eyes sparkling in satisfaction, and you stalk up to the mirror with a scowl before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Feigning nonchalance, you remove your accessories one by one, starting with the feather in your hair. As you place it gently on the marble counter, a firm chest presses against your back, and you see his frame nearly swallow yours in the glass before you. 

“If I were a bolder man, I’d think you were trying to send me a message just now,” he purrs into your ear. 

Glancing at his reflection, you shrug noncommittally. “Did you like it?”

You receive a soft hum in response. 

As you continue your act with trembling hands, Sylus cages you against the hard edge of the counter, admiring the remaining pieces of your costume with light, teasing touches. 

Once you make no effort to stop him, a large hand rises to close loosely around your throat. When his thumb brushes your bottom lip, you bite it hard enough to sting, and his deep chuckle worsens the throbbing between your legs. 

“I’m enough of a man to admit when I’m wrong. I underestimated you, it seems.” The low admission sends blood rushing through your ears, and you lean into him with a quiet gasp. “You have me right where you want me now, right? Then tell me—how did you come up with your little stunt?”

Tense seconds tick by as you debate your options. How humiliating it’d be to come clean in his arms. But then again, humiliated had been your main emotion as of late. With a deep exhale and slight tuck of your head, you begin your confession.

“I just wanted you to change your mind,” you whisper, watching as he unravels the satin ribbons on your bodysuit. 

 “I was so proud of that album, Sylus. Took me months to feel good enough to release it. And then I wake up to see the most respected voice in music calling it worthless.” 

Your voice wobbles at the mention of his review, and his fingers freeze on the lowest ribbon. 

“I thought my career was over. That’s what you do, right?” you ask, eyes flashing up at him. “Ruin people like me.”

Checking your teary gaze in the mirror, he has the decency to press a kiss to the skin between your neck and shoulder. 

“My manager had to do a wellness check,” you add with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I could barely get out of bed. But then he told me…I’d have a chance to see you that night. And I guess the anxiety of impending doom was enough of a motivator. So I got up, and I watched.” 

As your voice steadies, it grants him permission to undo the final ribbon. It loosens with a firm tug, and the slackened fabric sags around your body, waiting to be removed entirely. 

“I really did want to change your mind. To prove myself to you. But then I saw that stupid fucking interview…saw you for the first time, and I…”

“You what, sweetie?” he murmurs into your neck, spurring you on with a gentle kiss. 

“I wanted you, too.”

As he sucks in a breath, you take the moment to step out of your costume, tossing it to the floor below. You’re nearly bare before him, now, save for the thin tights and thong still blocking you from his sight. 

“That’s what all this was for,” you reveal, gesturing to the fallen fabric. “I wanted your attention—all of it—in any way I could get it. So you were right. I wanted to end up right here, with you.” 

For several seconds, his labored sighs are the only sounds in the room. You, unfortunately, are too afraid to breathe. But before long, warm hands grasp your hips, pulling you flush against his hardened lower half.

Catching your ear between sharp teeth, he floods your senses with a smooth whisper. “It seems you got what you wanted, then. Why don’t I tell you what I thought?”

And the second the “please” escapes your lips, he tears the thin layers left on your hips clean off your body. 

He uses your shock to his advantage, taking the chance to free his swollen cock and glide it across your slit, teasing your clenching hole with the pulsing length. When he’s coated in your wetness, he surges into you with a firm thrust, groaning at the squeeze of your fluttering walls. 

Allowing you a moment to adjust to the stretch, he gropes the fat of your hip before continuing. 

“You obviously did your research,” he rumbles, pumping in and out of you at a steady tempo. “Speakeasies were the home of jazz, for a time.” 

As the curve of his tip hits deep inside you, you wish you’d gotten a look at him. You’d expected him to be big, if the rest of his body was any indication, but the sheer fullness in your core feels like it should be illegal. 

“And the arrangement…paying homage with a modern twist. It was admirable. Bold,” he grits out, hissing as your cunt tightens at the compliment. 

Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you meet his thrusts with a high-pitched whine, asking for more—more pressure, more praise, more of all he could give. 

With a patronizing tsk, Sylus grips your jaw in one hand, pulling your face close to his. “How many ratings of mine did you read to pull this off? I wouldn't think you knew what real instruments were, based on that album.”

The barb snaps you out of docility, and you try to twist away from him with a sneer and grumble. But Sylus only pulls you back into his quickening strokes, a fond, terrorizing chuckle enveloping you. 

“Don’t run, sweetie. I’m flattered, really. Like I was when you got on that bike—my bike—and I wanted to pull you down from that stage,” he breathes, circling two fingers around your throbbing clit. “Because I knew in that moment, you were mine.”

As his claim rings through the air, he pinches your sensitive flesh and ups his pace, kissing your cervix with brutal strokes as the lewd slaps of skin on skin echo around you. Shaky breaths and soft whimpers leave your mouth, and you rut back into him as much as his firm grip on your hips allows.

“This was all for me, hm? For my attention, you said? Now you have it,” he murmurs huskily, and a sharp scratch of teeth against the pulse in your throat has you spilling over the edge with a desperate moan. 

Somewhere in the haze of your orgasm, he pulls out with a groan of his own, leaving you empty and shivering until you feel his warm release coat the curve of your back.

With the last of his strength, he turns your face to his and captures your lips in a heated kiss, your tongues tangling unhurriedly. You’re forced to pull away first, already more than drained of your stamina for the night. When you slump forward in exhaustion, he falls into you, folding you over the counter with his heavy weight. 

You groan at the impact but welcome the soothing pressure, and for a while, your heaving exhales mingle in the quiet of the room. 

Once his breathing evens out, his low drawl—raspier than usual—eclipses the silence. “So,” he begins, and you can tell he’s smirking above you without even seeing his face. “How would you rate my performance tonight?”

Too tired to scoff, you settle for a mocking hum. “Hmm…an 8. I’d say a 9, but you just lost a point for that line,” you smile softly. “The pacing was good, but the feeling was lacking. It felt a little…uninspired.”

VII. THE EPILOGUE

You can’t feel your limbs the next morning. 

You can’t feel your limbs, but your phone is ringing—has been for a few minutes now, you think groggily. 

With a pained grunt, you roll over and over in bed until the screen is within reach and put the call on speaker. 

“Check your texts!” Devon yells excitedly, damn near blasting your ears off. 

“What? What are you talking about?” you grumble. “And you know not to wake me up until at least 4 p.m. after a show.”

“Sure, girl, fire me if you want. Just check your texts!” he repeats, voice climbing to a near screech.

“Fine, just give me a—”

Your jaw drops. It has no choice but to drop.

Because sitting in your inbox, right there at the top, is an updated link to Sylus Qin’s review of your album.

And right there, where that dreaded 4.7 had stared you down, is a giant, boldface 8.

[cbeargyu]

Hi!!! Can you imagine bf!soobin staying over to watch a midnight movie? But instead of sitting beside you he lies on your lap. So during the movie he doesn't really focus on the movie but sometimes plays with your bottom which is only wearing panty with his fingers or even his mouth. 🫨🫨🫨

midnight cravings

summary: soobin comes over for a cozy movie night, but cuddling on the couch quickly turns into something far more intimate when he can’t keep his hands—or mouth—off you.

pairing: boyfriend!soobin x girlfriend!reader

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, panty play, size kink, praise, slight teasing, creampie.

wc: 1,3k

you were curled up on the couch in your favorite oversized hoodie, the lights dimmed and the soft glow of the tv casting a flickering light across the living room. the movie playing was an old studio ghibli film—howl's moving castle, one of your favorites. you’d been begging soobin for weeks to rewatch it with you, and tonight he’d finally caved, showing up with snacks, drinks, and that lazy, teasing grin that always gave him away when he had other things in mind.

he didn’t sit next to you like usual. instead, he laid down across the couch and rested his head in your lap with a content little sigh, long legs hanging off the end, hoodie slightly riding up to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach. he nuzzled against your thighs like he was getting cozy for the night, but the second his hands slipped beneath the blanket draped over the two of you, you knew he wasn’t here just for howl and sophie.

you shifted slightly when his fingers trailed up your bare thigh, brushing the edge of the soft panties you wore under your hoodie. you weren’t wearing much else—just those and one of his shirts you'd stolen months ago. it was comfy. it was supposed to be innocent.

“you look so good like this,” he murmured, not even looking at the screen anymore. “comfy… warm… all mine.”

his words sent a warm flutter through your chest, but before you could say anything, his fingers dipped under the hem of your panties, stroking gently over your skin. not rushed—just slow, teasing circles, like he had all the time in the world.

“soobin,” you whispered, voice barely above the hum of the movie. your hand rested in his soft hair automatically, fingers curling at the roots as he continued tracing over you.

he grinned, tilting his head slightly to press an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. “hm? i’m just relaxing,” he said innocently, though the way his fingers pressed a little more firmly betrayed his real intentions. “can’t help it if my girlfriend’s walking around in nothing but a hoodie and panties.”

his mouth moved higher, closer, until his breath was ghosting against the damp fabric between your legs. he nuzzled against it, then pressed a slow, open kiss right over your clothed heat, making your hips jerk slightly. he chuckled, low and breathy. “already wet?”

you let out a shaky breath, biting your lip. “we’re supposed to be watching a movie…”

“we are,” he said, pretending to glance at the screen, though his fingers were now tugging your panties to the side. “i just got… distracted.”

he dipped his head again, but this time, he licked a long, deliberate stripe along your slit, never fully parting your folds, just wetting the fabric more, making it cling to you. you whimpered, thighs twitching around his head, and he groaned softly, loving how small you looked from this angle—how easily he could manhandle your hips if he wanted to.

“you’re so tiny, baby,” he murmured against you. “your thighs barely fit around my head.” he kissed the inside of your leg again, voice going lower. “and your pussy’s so tight… fuck.”

you squirmed, one hand gripping the couch while the other clung to his hair. soobin’s tongue slipped under the fabric now, finally tasting you properly, and the sound he made almost made you moan. he sounded like he’d been starving.

he licked and sucked gently, fingers still playing with your panties—tugging them, letting them snap back softly against your skin, pulling them aside again just to get better access. he was big, and his mouth covered so much of you that it made your head spin. you could feel his tongue everywhere—soft and slow one moment, fast and greedy the next.

“soobin—” you gasped, your voice cracking as he focused on your clit, flicking it with quick, precise movements.

he glanced up at you, his cheeks flushed, lips shiny with you. “you gonna come just from this?” he teased. “my mouth and your pretty little panties?”

you nodded, unable to speak, back arching slightly. he moaned softly into you, gripping your thighs tighter.

“good girl,” he said, voice hoarse. “come for me.”

you barely had time to come down from your high before soobin was moving again—shifting up from your lap, towering over you with that hungry, flushed look on his face. his hand slipped behind your neck, guiding you into a kiss that was all tongue and breathless need, tasting yourself on his lips.

he pulled away slowly, eyes scanning your face. “still okay?” he whispered, thumb brushing your cheek.

you nodded quickly, pupils blown wide. “want more.”

that was all he needed to hear.

he knelt between your thighs, tugging your panties fully off this time, dragging them down your legs with a deliberate slowness that had you squirming. once they were off, he looked down at them for a moment—then brought them to his face, inhaling deeply with a low groan.

“fuck, you smell so sweet,” he muttered, voice ragged, before shoving them into the pocket of his hoodie. “these are mine now.”

he didn’t even give you time to tease him for that—his hoodie came off in one swift motion, revealing the lean muscle of his chest and stomach, and then his sweatpants followed. his cock sprung free, already hard and leaking, and your mouth fell open slightly at the sight of it.

you’d seen him like this dozens of times, but it still made your stomach flutter. he was so big—long and thick, the flushed tip glistening. the kind of size that stretched you out every single time, no matter how ready you thought you were.

he noticed the way your gaze lingered and smirked as he crawled over you, gripping his cock in one hand and stroking it slowly. “intimidated?” he teased.

you bit your lip, but smiled up at him. “a little.”

he leaned down to kiss you again, this time slower, deeper, while his hand slid between your legs to rub you gently, feeling how soaked you still were. “don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. “i’ll go slow. i’ll make it fit.”

he lined himself up and pushed in just the tip, watching your face carefully as your mouth fell open, already gasping from the stretch.

“shit,” he groaned, “you’re so tight… fuck—i’ll never get over this.”

inch by inch, he sank into you, bottoming out with a deep, shuddering breath. his hands gripped your hips like he was grounding himself, trying not to lose control.

“you’re so small,” he murmured, eyes dark. “you take me so well, though. made for me.”

you moaned softly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he began to move—slow at first, letting you adjust. but the deeper he got, the more his pace shifted—needier, rougher, until the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mixing with your breathless whimpers and the still-playing movie in the background.

he fucked you like he wanted to ruin you—his hand slipping down to your clit again, rubbing tight circles as he drove into you, the tip of his cock brushing that perfect spot inside you over and over again.

“gonna come again for me, baby?” he panted against your neck, biting softly. “gonna let me fill you up?”

you nodded desperately, already so close, everything building again fast and hot. “soobin—i’m—”

“let go,” he whispered. “come on my cock. let me feel you.”

and you did—clenching hard around him as you cried out, back arching, body trembling. he cursed loudly, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you, deep and hot, holding you tight through it.

you stayed like that for a moment, breathless and tangled, his head buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath.

then he kissed your shoulder and murmured with a grin, “so… want me to rewind the movie?”

[shy9-29]

Unfiltered | 이희승

idol 이희승 x idol yn

🍒 SOMAR𝒊O ─── Both you and Heeseung decide to go red. Later on, chaos is brought opon you two. 이희승 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 3.1k ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, death treats, etc 🔖 a/n. Thought about Heeseung and Giselle while writing this. Who else freaked at cochella?

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, a cozy hoodie draped over your frame, a bowl of popcorn nestled between you and Heeseung. His phone is in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the edge of the blanket covering both your legs. The soft glow of the TV lights the room, but he’s not paying attention to the screen—his focus is all on the dozens of hair color inspo pics he’s scrolling through.

“Okay, hear me out,” Heeseung says, holding up his phone to show you a swipe of blonde cut. “This… for Cochella?”

You wrinkle your nose, tilting your head. “It’s cute, but didn’t you already go blonde?”

He sighs dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “That’s what I said! But Sunghoon said it would ‘bring out my eyes.’” He makes air quotes and a mock serious face that makes you giggle.

You lean in, tapping his screen. “What about this one?” A vibrant, fiery red catches your attention. “It’s bold. Different. You’d look hot.”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Hot, huh?”

You bump his shoulder. “Don’t get cocky.”

But he’s already smiling at the idea, sitting up straighter. “Red’s kind of sick though. It could pop on stage, especially under the lights.”

You nod, brushing some popcorn salt off your fingers. “If you go red… I kinda want to, too. Not, like, matching-matching. Just… accidentally twinning.” You say it teasingly, but there’s a spark in your chest when he looks over at you with that playful glint in his eyes.

He shifts to face you fully, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. “Imagine the headlines,” he smirks. “‘Heeseung and Y/N cause chaos with matching red hair.’”

You laugh, not realizing just how close to the truth that prediction would soon be.

“Okay,” he says, voice low and warm, “red it is.”

You clink your popcorn bowls together like champagne glasses.

That night, under soft lights and between laughter, the two of you made a choice that seemed harmless—fun, even.

You had no idea it would become the beginning of everything.

The last couple of weeks have been nonstop—dance practices that go past midnight, vocal rehearsals, fittings, interviews, content shoots. Both your group g/n and Enhypen are in comeback season, which basically means “sleep is optional” and “personal time doesn’t exist.”

You and Heeseung had been texting here and there, sending each other exhausted selfies, complaining about sore muscles and choreo revisions. But meeting up? Impossible. Your schedules didn’t line up, and even when they almost did, something always came up.

It was late one night when you finally had a minute to breathe. You’d just finished another rehearsal, still in your practice clothes, hair tied up messily. You flopped onto your bed, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly when a notification lit up your screen.

[HEESEUNG is live] — Weverse

You sat up instantly.

Tapping in, the screen loaded to Heeseung sitting on the floor of what looked like the dorm’s living room, hoodie on, a black beanie pulled low over his head. Like, really low. Only a few strands of dark hair peeked out, and he kept adjusting it like he was nervous it’d fall off.

You smirked.

He’s hiding it.

You already knew. A few days ago, his texts had been full of half-panicked, half-excited messages about finally going red. “Bro it’s SO RED, I actually might be insane for doing this” was one of your favorites.

But seeing him now, live, trying so hard to hide it from Engenes—it was cute. Every time he turned his head a little too far, a hint of bright red peeked out, and he’d scramble to pull the beanie back down.

Comments were flying.

enhajvke: DID I JUST SEE RED?

heeseungswiife: Be honest rn… did u dye ur hair?

engenevroom: LEE HEESEUNG EXPLAIN THE FLASH OF COLOR

You bit back a laugh, watching him try to play it cool.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he said with the most suspicious tone ever, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. “It’s just cold in here.”

Yeah, right.

You watched the rest of the live with your chin propped on your hand, amused and weirdly proud. He looked good—cozy, playful, teasing the fans just enough without giving it all away.

And in your camera roll, your own red hair was glowing under the bathroom light. You hadn’t shown the world yours yet either.

Not yet.

But soon.

You didn’t really plan to go live. It just kind of… happened.

You had a rare evening off—no practice, no interviews, no schedules—and it felt weird. Like your body didn’t know how to sit still. So you pulled your hair up, threw on a simple white tank top and joggers, and flopped onto the floor of your room, your phone in hand. No makeup, no filters, no styling.

Just you.

And the new red hair.

You hit “Start Live” on Bubble, not thinking twice.

“Hi, guys,” you greeted softly, adjusting the camera. The chat instantly blew up. You leaned closer, tucking a strand of bright red behind your ear as the comments exploded.

annibeth3: THE HAIR???

jmmstud: Y/N WENT RED?!

gnnofan: wait, didnt heeseung go red too or am I tweaking?

You smiled. “What, this?” you teased, twirling a strand. “I just wanted something different.”

Your heart thudded as you saw the messages piling up, but you kept your tone light, calm. After all, it was just a coincidence… right?

You stretched out a bit on your floor, resting your weight on your elbows, the neckline of your tank dipping just a little as you chatted about practice, comeback prep, and snacks you’d been craving lately. Just normal stuff.

But your phone buzzed behind the scenes.

Heeseung [9:47PM]:

you look way too good right now.

like i’m tryna be respectful but wtf.

I miss you so fucking much yn I’m gonna crash out. The tank top is killing me

Your lips twitched into a smirk, a flush rising to your cheeks. You glanced at the camera for a second, then off to the side, biting back a laugh.

He was watching. Of course he was.

And even if the fans hadn’t fully caught on yet, your phone lighting up with his name while your red hair shimmered under the light—it made everything feel more electric.

They hadn’t noticed.

Yet.

You ended the live not long after that—heart racing, cheeks a little too warm, trying to keep your cool as you read Heeseung’s texts still sitting at the top of your screen.

The moment you were off camera, you opened the chat.

You [9:53PM]:

you’re literally the one who told me to go red too… what did you expect?

also it’s just a tank top calm down

Heeseung [9:54PM]:

“just a tank top” she says like she didn’t just destroy my entire willpower in 15 minutes

i’m calling you after this don’t ignore me.

You smiled, setting your phone down with a little shake of your head. You didn’t even realize how much you missed him until now—until the teasing texts and his dumb comments made your stomach flip again.

Surprisingly, the internet didn’t explode—at least not right away.

Despite your live and the not-so-subtle matching hair colors, fans didn’t fully put the pieces together. A few curious comments here and there, a couple of tweets questioning the timing, but nothing serious. No dating rumors. No trending hashtags. Just… peace.

It was almost suspicious how quiet everything was.

Which is exactly why, when both your schedules finally aligned, you and Heeseung jumped at the chance to film something together. His new song Loose had just dropped, and he’d been dying to do a challenge with you—especially now that you both had that bold red hair. A perfect opportunity, right? Fun, harmless, and definitely not suspicious.

The idea was simple: you’d meet at the HYBE building during a short break in both your days, sneak into one of the practice rooms, and film it quick. No couple-y energy, no obvious glances. Just vibes.

The best part? Both companies were fine with it.

There were no raised eyebrows from staff, no warnings. Since fans hadn’t really caught on, no one was worried. It was just a mutual collab between two popular idols—great for views, great for engagement. Enhypen’s team even offered to film it and post it straight to their official TikTok.

“Look professional,” Heeseung had joked, nudging you with his elbow as the staff counted down to record.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. The camera rolled. Music blasted. You both hit every beat, in sync, smiling, red hair flying as you danced side by side. The chemistry was obvious, but you figured fans would chalk it up to stage presence. They always did.

After it was done, you both took a couple of selfies—just for memories, nothing for posting—and then went your separate ways, promising to catch up more once promotions calmed down.

Neither of you opened the internet that night. No doom-scrolling. No comments. No TikTok rabbit holes.

You went to bed thinking everything was fine.

But the next morning?

The internet was on fire.

You woke up to your phone vibrating non-stop on your nightstand.

At first, you thought maybe it was just your manager or your group’s group chat buzzing about schedules—until you saw the notifications.

Twitter. TikTok. Instagram. Mentions. Tags. Trending.

You rubbed your eyes and squinted at your screen.

“THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER”

“NO CAUSE THEY’RE IN LOVE”

“THERE’S NO WAY THIS IS JUST FRIENDSHIP”

Your heart skipped. You sat up fast, blanket falling off your shoulders as you clicked on one of the top tweets. It was a screenshot—mid-frame from the dance challenge. Heeseung was looking at you. Not just looking—staring. And not just staring—smiling.

It wasn’t even subtle.

His eyes were soft, focused on you like the camera didn’t even exist. You hadn’t noticed it in the moment. But now? Paused in HD and blasted across every social platform?

Yeah. It was obvious.

And the comments were wild.

“The way he looked at her when she smiled?? Bye I’m sobbing.”

“You’re telling me that’s not love? Be serious.”

“What is my hee doing with yn 💔.”

“They’re so synced it’s actually suspicious.”

Even clips of the video were slowed down and edited with soft music, hearts, sparkles—fan edits were already flooding your FYP. And somehow, it wasn’t just your red hair people were talking about anymore.

It was the way your hands brushed.

The way your laugh slipped out at the end.

The way he couldn’t stop looking at you when you weren’t watching.

You opened your texts to find one from Heeseung already waiting.

Heeseung [8:04AM]:

we’re trending.

i think we just accidentally confessed.

…it’s kinda cute though.

You let out a breathy laugh, heart pounding.

This was no longer just a dance challenge.

It was the start of chaos—and the world was officially watching.

Within hours, the chaos went from loud to explosive.

The original TikTok—the now-infamous Loose challenge featuring you and Heeseung—disappeared. Gone. No warning. No explanation. Just poof.

You hadn’t even known until fans started posting screen recordings, saying things like:

“Wait… why did they delete the challenge???”

“This is suspicious as hell now.”

“They just made it worse by deleting it.”

“Enhypen’s staff really fumbled this one.”

It was everywhere. The deletion only made people more convinced something was going on. What could’ve passed as a fun collab between two idols now looked like a cover-up. Some fans tried to keep things calm, tweeting things like:

“It’s just a dance challenge, don’t be weird.”

“They probably deleted it because people were overreacting.”

“Red hair doesn’t equal dating, omg.”

But the other side of the internet was spiraling.

Speculation threads popped up. Fan accounts were digging through past interactions, award show clips, music bank moments—anything that could “prove” you and Heeseung were together. Some fans even started pulling screenshots from lives, making timelines.

And then the hate started.

Under your posts. On your lives. In your DMs. Comments calling you “attention-seeking,” saying you were “ruining his image,” accusing you of “using him for clout.” Some even turned on him—saying he was being “reckless,” or “leading fans on.”

It stung. Even though you told yourself it came with the job, it still hurt.

You stayed quiet. So did Heeseung. The companies didn’t say anything either—not yet.

But behind the scenes, your phone was buzzing nonstop.

Heeseung [10:12AM]:

…they deleted it.

i didn’t know they were gonna do that.

are you okay?

You stared at his message, fingers hovering over your screen.

Were you okay?

You weren’t sure. You’d just wanted to dance. To match hair for fun. To be with someone you liked without setting the internet on fire.

But here you were—burning in it anyway.

It got worse. So much worse.

The deleted video didn’t just spark curiosity—it set off a wildfire. What had started as playful fan theories turned into full-blown obsession. And then, into something ugly.

You tried to stay off your phone. Tried to focus on your group’s comeback, the rehearsals, the endless days in the studio. But the comments found you anyway.

Under your recent posts. Flooding your lives. Drowning your mentions.

“It should’ve been me, not Y/N.”

“She doesn’t deserve him.”

“Y/N is ruining his career.”

“She’s not even that talented—she’s just lucky.”

“Break up before your fandom turns on you.”

“I swear if I see them together again—”

And then came the threats.

Disguised as jokes at first. Then full-on direct messages.

“Watch your back.”

“I could dox you at any moment.”

“Hope your company knows they can’t protect you forever.”

You didn’t cry, but your hands shook when you showed your manager. He took your phone without saying anything and made a call.

Later that night, Heeseung texted you.

Heeseung [11:28PM]:

i hate this.

i didn’t think it’d go this far.

you don’t deserve this.

Neither of you had expected it. The hate, the pressure, the firestorm just for dancing together. For matching hair. For being a little too obvious about feelings that weren’t meant to be a secret in the first place.

You wanted to tell him it was okay. That you were fine.

But you weren’t.

And apparently, your companies knew it too.

Because the next day, both HYBE and JYP released simultaneous statements.

Simple. Direct. Unapologetic.

“After confirming with the artists, it is true that Enhypen’s Heeseung and g/n’s Y/N are currently in a relationship.

We ask for your support and understanding. Please continue to respect both artists’ privacy moving forward.”

And just like that—the secret was out.

No more hiding.

No more dancing around rumors.

No more pretending red hair was a coincidence.

It was real. It was official. And the whole world knew it.

You were on set for a music show taping when the news dropped.

One second, you were touching up your lip gloss. The next, one of your members walked in holding her phone out with wide eyes.

“They did it,” she said. “It’s official.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

She tilted the screen toward you. There it was. Both companies, side by side, names bolded in black and white. Confirmation.

You let out a breath, sat back in the chair, and shrugged. “Huh. About time.”

No panic. No tears. Just… finally.

Your group’s stylists didn’t say anything. They just nodded and kept working. Honestly, everyone around you kind of expected it already. Nothing about it felt shocking. Even the staff had started side-eyeing the sudden hair changes and locked-door dance rehearsals weeks ago.

Meanwhile, Heeseung texted you mid-makeup.

Heeseung [3:11PM]:

well that’s one way to go public lol

guess we’re official official now huh

You [3:12PM]:

yup

they really waited until we couldn’t say anything back lmao

Heeseung [3:12PM]:

i kinda like it though

now i can look at you on camera without pretending you’re just my “idol friend” lol

You smiled, totally unbothered.

You’d both been through this industry long enough to know how it worked. The hate came and went. The rumors always found new targets. Right now it was you two—but give it a month and the internet would be busy with someone else’s business.

Until then?

You had red hair, a comeback stage, and a very official boyfriend who’d just sent you a selfie with a wink and the caption:

“Guess I’m your problem now.”

Once the news was out, the freedom hit immediately.

You didn’t even bother trying to be subtle anymore. Heeseung followed you on Instagram the same day the statements dropped—no sneaky burner accounts, no “oops I liked it by mistake.” Just straight-up, public, followed. And you followed him back within minutes.

The fans noticed, of course.

“Heeseung followed Y/N??”

“NO CAUSE THEY’RE BEING BOLD NOW.”

“this is highkey iconic behavior tbh”

A few hours later, Heeseung posted a story. A blurry pic of two iced americanos on a café table, one with red nail polish wrapped around the cup. No tags. No captions. Just vibes.

Then you posted a carousel that same evening. The fourth photo? A mirror selfie of you in a hoodie way too big to be yours—sleeves swallowing your hands, the drawstrings hanging low.

Fans put two and two together. Fast.

And you didn’t deny it.

Over the next few weeks, you shared more—still casual, still lowkey, but just enough to send fans into a frenzy every time.

A photo of matching sneakers outside a ramen shop.

A story of two sets of chopsticks over tteokbokki with a soft little “date night” caption.

A boomerang of your hand tugging down a familiar beanie (yeah, that beanie) with the words: “stealing again.”

Comments were mixed, but you both ignored the noise.

You were two idols in love, no longer hiding in dance studios or behind blurry livestreams. And honestly? It felt kind of fun to finally live it loud.

The months that followed were chaotic, hilarious, and—honestly—kinda fun.

Sure, the initial firestorm was loud. Fans debated, haters barked, and your DMs stayed unhinged for a while. But eventually, like all things in idol world, the noise dulled. The shock wore off. People moved on.

And you and Heeseung?

You kept living.

Performing your comebacks, doing variety shows, sneaking glances across music show stages that were no longer that sneaky. You posted what you wanted, shared what you liked, and smiled a little wider every time someone commented:

“They’re actually so cute together.”

“I was a hater at first but now I’m obsessed.”

“Red hair couple supremacy.”

By the time festival season rolled around, your hair was a different color. His too. But everyone still remembered that red era. The hair, the challenge, the way he looked at you like no one else existed.

From a couch conversation to a viral storm—who knew red dye and a beanie would spark all this?

But now, none of it had to be secret.

No sneaking around. No deleting videos. Just you, Heeseung, and whatever came next.

And if the world wasn’t ready?

Too bad. You were already in it. Together.

here to be added to permanent tag list - req open