#Control Upright Closed

[happywebdesign]

Atelier Lâme

[0last-ditch-effort0]

realized just now that *all* socializing is dysregulating to me

[luna-azzurra]

Body Language Cheat Sheet For Writers 

╰ Facial expressions

These are your micro-signals, like the blinking neon signs of the soul. But they’re small, quick, and often lie harder than words.

Raised eyebrows — This can mean surprise or disbelief, sure. But it can also be a full-on, silent “Are you serious right now?” when someone’s being ridiculous. Or even curiosity when someone’s too emotionally repressed to askthe damn question.

Furrowed brow — That face people make when they’re doing long division in their head or trying to emotionally process a compliment. It’s thinking, yes—but also confusion, deep frustration, or quiet simmering rage.

Smiling — Can be happiness… or total fake-it-till-you-make-it energy. Some smiles are stiff. Some don’t reach the eyes. Show that.

Frowning — Sure, sadness. But also: disappointment, judgment, or the universal “I’m about to say something blunt, brace yourself.”

Lip biting — It’s not just nervousness, it’s pressure. Self-control. Anticipation. It’s the thing people do when they want to say something and decide, at the last second, not to.

╰ Eye movement

The window to the soul? Yeah. But also the window to when someone’s lying, flirting, or deeply trying not to cry in public.

Eye contact — Confidence or challenge. Eye contact can be gentle, curious, sharp like a blade. Sometimes it’s desperate: “Please understand me.”

Avoiding eye contact — Not always guilt. Sometimes it’s protectiveness. Sometimes it’s “I’m afraid if I look at you, you’ll see everything I’m trying to hide.”

Narrowed eyes — Calculating. Suspicious. The look someone gives when their brain’s saying “hmmm...” and it’s not a good hmm.

Wide eyes — Surprise, yes. But also sudden fear. The oh-God-it’s-happening look. Or when someone just found out they’re not as in control as they thought.

Eye roll — Classic. But try using it with tension, like when someone’s annoyed and trying very hard not to lose it in public.

╰ Gestures

This is where characters’ emotions go when their mouths are lying.

Crossing arms — Not just defensive. Sometimes it’s comfort. A self-hug. A barrier when the conversation is getting too personal.

Fidgeting — This is nervous energy with nowhere to go. Watch fingers tapping, rings spinning, sleeves tugged. It says: I’m not okay, but I’m trying not to show it.

Pointing — It’s a stab in the air. Aggressive, usually. But sometimes a desperate plea: Look. Understand this.

Open palms — Vulnerability. Honesty. Or a gesture that says, “I have nothing left to hide.”

Hand on chin — Not just thinking. It’s stalling. It’s delaying. It’s “I’m about to say something that might get me in trouble.”

╰ Posture and movement

These are your vibes. How someone occupies space says everything.

Slumped shoulders — Exhaustion. Defeat. Or someone trying to take up less space because they feel small.

Upright posture — Not always confidence. Sometimes it’s forced. Sometimes it’s a character trying really, really hard to look like they’re fine.

Pacing — Inner chaos externalized. Thinking so loudly it needs movement. Waiting for something. Running from your own thoughts.

Tapping foot — Tension. Irritation. Sometimes a buildup to an explosion.

Leaning in — Intimacy. Interest. Or subtle manipulation. (You matter to me. I’m listening. Let’s get closer.)

╰ Touch

This is intimacy in all its forms, comforting, protective, romantic, or invasive.

Hugging — Doesn’t always mean closeness. Could be a goodbye. Could be an apology they can’t say out loud. Could be awkward as hell.

Handshake — Stiff or crushing or slippery. How someone shakes hands says more than their words do.

Back patting — Casual warmth. Bro culture. Awkward emotional support when someone doesn’t know how to comfort but wants to try.

Clenched fists — Holding something in. Rage, tears, restraint. Fists mean tension that needs somewhere to go.

Hair tuck — Sure, flirtation or nerves. But also a subtle shield. A way to hide. A habit from childhood when someone didn’t want to be seen.

╰ Mirroring:

If two characters start syncing their body language, something is happening. Empathy. Chemistry. Shared grief. If someone shifts their body when the other does? Take notice. Other human bits that say everything without words...

Nodding — Not just yes. Could be an “I hear you,” even if they don’t agree. Could be the “keep going” nod. Could be patronizing if done too slow.

Crossed legs — Chill. Casual. Or closed-off, depending on context. Especially if their arms are crossed too.

Finger tapping — Time is ticking. Brain is pacing. Something’s coming.

Hand to chest — Sincerity, yes. But also shock. Or grounding—a subconscious attempt to stay present when everything feels like too much.

Tilting the head — Curiosity. Playfulness. Or someone listening so hard they forget to hide it.

Temple rub — “I can’t deal.” Could be physical pain. Could be stress. Could be emotional overload in disguise.

Chin stroking — Your classic “I’m judging you politely.” Often used in arguments between characters pretending to be calm.

Hands behind the back — Authority. Control. Or rigid fear masked as control.

Leaning body — This is the body betraying the brain. A tilt toward someone means they care—even if their words are cold.

Nail biting — Classic anxiety. But also habit. Something learned. Sometimes people bite because that’s how they self-soothe.

Squinting — Focusing. Doubting. Suspicion without confrontation.

Shifting weight — Uncomfortable. Unsure. Someone who wants to leave but doesn’t.

Covering the mouth — Guilt. Hesitation. The “should I say this?” moment before something big drops.

Body language is more honest than dialogue. If you really want to show your character’s internal world, don’t just give them lines. Give them a hand that won’t stop shaking. Give them a foot that won’t stop bouncing. Give them a mouth that smiles when their eyes don’t. And if you’re not sure what your character would do in a moment of fear, or love, or heartbreak, try acting it out yourself. Seriously. Get weird. Feel what your body does. Then write that down.

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) when you get tired during sex .ᐟ

🖇️📂 how skz like to fuck their girlfriend to sleep

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, oral (female and male receiving) cockwarming, dry humping, somnophilia, overstimulation, minho and jisung being a tad pushy

방찬. BANG CHAN

he can be soso rough with you sometimes. he doesn’t mean to be, he just absolutely loses all sense of control once he finally sinks into your tight pussy :( especially when he’s had a particularly shit day at work, just counting down the hours until he gets home and is able to finally lose all his worries in the comfort of your cunt. loves making a pretty mess out of you, until you’re completely drunk on his cock and babbling nonsense. but tonight he could feel you struggling to keep up with his eager pace, eyes threatening to flutter shut and slumping in his lap, strong arms keeping you upright against his chest as his hips keep a steady pace fucking up into you. he feels bad as he continues on abusing your cunt, but he can’t help it when you’re fluttering around him and clamping down like a vice, he just wants to cum so bad. starts to slow his thrusts down when he feels you grind lazily down onto him, desperate for some kind of release yet too tired to do anything about it yourself. he’ll take your face in his hands, smiling soso softly it would nearly make you sick if you could manage to keep your eyes open. “pretty baby, did i tire you out?” and when you could only respond with a sleepy nod before burying your face in the crook of his neck he’ll lay you down, spreading your thighs open a little more and your body responds so easily to him in your fucked out state, he finds it cute. lets you tiredly wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, keeping him close to your chest as he sloppily fucks you to sleep. 

“shh baby, just let me take care of you.”

리노. LEE MINHO 

deep down he knew he was being selfish, he could see how tired you were after the celebratory dinner he dragged you to with the rest of the boys. but you just looked so pretty all dolled up in your silky dress, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the subtle expanse of your smooth leg peeking out from the slit of fabric, inching up towards your hips. and god your lips. so glossy and kissable and just begging to be wrapped around his stiffening cock. he has you on your knees as soon as you get home despite your sleepy protests, head leaned back against the sofa and shirt unbuttoned as you smothered and worshiped his dick. and he’s so close it’s almost painful - your slow, lazy licks teetering him on the edge of orgasm before ripping it away from him at the last second. he’s so pissed whenever he can’t cum and he has to do everything in his willpower to restrain himself from forcing your head down and putting your mouth to good use, fucking it like it should be fucked. and he just feels so heavy on your tongue, his deep groans shooting right to your core. tries to have take some pity on you though and gently coaxes you to relax your jaw, pretty praises falling from his lips and giving you the last burst of energy you need to get him off until the salty taste of his cum is invading your tongue, slipping easily out of your mouth and softening against his thigh. he’ll defiantly repay you too, waking you up the next morning with his hot mouth on your cunt, lapping and sucking and kissing your soaked nub until you finally stir awake, pulling away to rest his cheek against your thigh and look up at you through tired eyes. 

“just relax baby, let me make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

changbin knows how busy you are, your schedule rivalling his on a normal day, so by the time you get home from work the only thing you can make time for is lazy makeouts in his office or rushed fucking in the shower before bed. the first day you both have off together in weeks is spent with him buried to the hilt inside of you, fucking you in every room and surface until you’re a sticky, pretty mess beneath him. and he just has you so worn out and it isn’t even mid afternoon yet, you just don’t understand how he still has the energy to wreck your cunt again and again the way he has been doing for hours on end. he’ll have you practically folded in half, legs bent and pressed tightly against your chest as he pounds into you - the sounds of his cock filling your cunt with another load of warm cum being the only thing you could focus on and stop your weary eyes from closing. he picks up straight away when you start to slip away from him, barely able to keep up as soft gasps leave your lips and eyes flutter close, slowing his pace to a stop, his cock stilling deeply into you. he’s soso enamoured by you, and it shows in the way he smiles softly at your worn out form, tucking a strand of messy hair behind your ear and letting your legs rest from their bent position. shushes your pained sigh as he slowly slips out of you, leaving your pussy feeling empty and cold before he’s pressing his chest against your back, spooning you close to his body then nudging his swollen tip back into you. and he loves the whine you let out when he buries himself balls deep inside of you again, your mind so fogged and clouded it hardly takes you a minute before you’re fast asleep - kept warm and filled to the brim with his dick as he coaxes you to sleep.

“let’s just stay like this, sleep well angel.”

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

he knows how hard you work and absolutely loves loves loves taking care of you!! coaxes you into his arms when you get home, stripping you from your shoddy work clothes and slipping you into a bath, letting you yap his ears off about your frustrations while he works on massaging shampoo into your hair. lays you down on the soft comforter of your bed after, fingers lazily pumping into your pussy. works your mouth open with his own, tongue making its way past your lips as you whine and gasp into the kiss - hips sloppily grinding down to meet the press of his long digits curling deep inside of you. loves how easily he’s able to get you off in this state, his name falling from your lips so prettily and your eyes staring up at him like he’s your whole world and more - and it’s almost enough to ignore the painful squeeze of his cock left unattended, but he still can’t help but to rut his hips down onto the mattress, desperate for any type of friction :( stretches you open real good and nice on his fingers until he’s kissing messily down your tummy before he reaches your slit, tongue hungrily replacing his digits to leave fat licks against your nub. and he’s just absolutely obsessed with the way you look in his hold, fucked out and messy and all for him. your little pleas of, “hyun, please i’m so tired. can’t take anymore,” yet your hips continuing to grind against his face like a bitch in heat and he finds it so incredibly cute. swears he’ll take such good care of you, just stay awake a little while longer.

“you’re so pretty baby, gonna let me make you cum?”

한. HAN JISUNG

he so eager and energetic during sex that it’s hard for you to keep up sometimes. he could go for hours, so drunk on your pussy that time just seems to cease to exist, fucking into you until it was nothing but a creamy mess of spit and cum. he’ll do his absolute best to keep you awake when he notices your lids twitching to shut - pressing his cock into you at just the right angle, fingers reaching down to play with your sensitive and raw nub, nails deliberately digging into the plush skin of your thighs to keep you from slipping away from him. so needy with it, he just loves watching your eyes shoot open in surprise when he acts out like this. but he becomes insanely pathetic when he feels you start to slump in his hold, hips picking up an erratic, rushed pace as he desperately tries to chase his high. roughly pulls your hips up until your ass is perched high in the air for him, head shoved into the pillow to muffle your gasps from his sudden greediness. “please baby, give me one more and i’ll leave you alone.” begs and sobs and pleads falling from his lips in messy whines, tears threatening to slip from his eyes when he feels your pussy close in around him, the promise of finally cumming is right there and he couldn’t just let you fall asleep now, he’s so close 🥺 it wouldn’t be fair!! and he can’t stop the selfish thoughts from taking over, he’s been so good to you all day, the least you could do is let him play with you until he’s spent and painted your cute cunt in his seed. sometimes, he’ll continue fucking into you when he sees you’ve actually fallen asleep on him, your soft sighs and fluttering cunt edging him closer and closer until he’s filling you up with warm load after load. and he can only look away bashfully when you wake up all sticky and used the next day. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

he’s such an angel truly 🥺 making sure you’re well looked after is enough to get him off. hates when you come home all stressed and tired, a worried furrow between your brows and pretty face slacked with sleep. gently coaxes you to lay with him, taking his time to love on your body - your tits, tummy, thighs, just everywhere!! they’ll all be marked with his lips. and he almost has you dozing off with his soft touches before the warm press of his tongue against your pussy has you letting out a choked gasp, hands threading themselves through his long hair to push his face further into your core, nose bumping against your nub in the most pleasing delicious way. but even with the mind numbingly hot swipes of his tongue against your hole, and the deep groans he lets rumble against your slit, you still manage to slip away, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek as sleep becomes more and more appealing from being surrounded by his comforting presence. his languid strokes of tongue actually spiralling you further into slumber. and he can’t help but smile lovingly against you when he catches sight of your peaceful form, sleepy apologies tumbling past your lips as your fingers lose their grip on his lock, hips twitching slightly when he give you one last messy kiss against your cunt before settling beside you. such a giver that he’ll easily ignore the swell of his dick, he’d fuck you asleep over and over again as long as it keeps his baby happy.

“let me make you feel better honey.”

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN

you just couldn’t sleep. all you needed was a bit of comfort, some soft fucking to urge you to slumber but he’s always so pent up and frustrated after work, eager to bully his problems away on your pussy. and you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him, letting him play with you until you were a cock drunk mess beneath him. he’s always so mean with it though :( his dick was practically kissing your womb, legs aching from where they were rested on his broad shoulders and gasped whines leaving you when he nudges his cock past your folds - your headboard threatening to give out with every rough grind of his hips. you couldn’t even find the energy to meet his greedy thrusts, pussy twitching lazily around him and head lolling to the side when sleep threatened to take over, but the swell of his cock filling you up was sure doing a good job keeping you awake. and he almost felt offended when he spotted your lids slipping shut - stilling to the hilt deep inside you and just begging to finally paint your plush walls with cum - mouth opening to shoot you a sarcastic quip like the meany he is. before he notices the small bags sunken under your eyes and the worried crease of your brow, and he just can’t help but to cut you some slack. settles his body on top of you and softly shushes the pretty whine you let out when his dick rocks deeper inside you with the sudden movement, so desperately wanting to fuck you until he finally empties his load but he’ll let you rest for now. keeps himself buried in your warm pussy all night, kissing the shell of your ear as you quickly fall into a deep slumber. you bet your ass he’s gonna make you pay for falling asleep on him though.

“it’s okay baby, just gonna rest here. you’re gonna have to make this up to me tomorrow though.”

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

this boy has such a high sex drive, genuinely thinks he’ll never get tired of the feeling of your warm cunt fluttering so nicely around him. it drives him mad. wants to spend every waking moment buried to the hilt inside of you, to the point where you’ll have to tell him to back tf off 😭 he’s so nice and gentle with you when you’re tired though, never pressuring you to do anything you’re not up to and letting you use him until you fall asleep, ignoring the painful swell of his fat dick resting against his thigh with every soft whine and gasp you let out. just likes having you sat pretty on his lap, dry humping like a bunch of honey teenagers but he fucking thrives on it. his hands will be guiding your hips to help you rut down on his bare cock, every slide causing the tip to bump into your nub. and he has to hold everything inside him back to not just lube himself up with your wetness and force his way into your tempting cunt. no, that’s not what you need right now. what you need is for him to be a good boy and let you rut down onto him like the needy girl you are until you finally stain his thighs with your slick. the tired look on your face is enough to make him melt, kissing your cheeks softly and muttering sweet praises between every glide of his hard cock. just lets you grind sloppily against him, gushing with wetness and all your frustrations slipping away as you nudge yourself closer to orgasm before your hold on his shoulders tighten, your nails raking down his back when you finally soak his cock in your juices, a relieved sigh leaving those pretty lips of yours before you’re sinking in his hold. coaxed into a deep sleep with his dick laid bumped against you, still red and swollen with need but he can’t find it in himself to care when you look all cute cuddled up against his chest. 

“that’s it sweetheart, let it all out.”

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

[tiny-space-platypus]

A King and a Prince

Danny screamed.

He screamed and screamed, using his ghostly wail until his voice shattered and his throat was raw with the echoes of his own agony. He wailed even after the battle was won. After the last of the GIW had fallen, even after Vlad’s final, gasping breath had faded into silence. He wailed as Amity Park crumbled around him, as the last flickering lights of his home were swallowed by ruin.

It didn’t matter.

No one was left to hear him.

No one left to be farmed by his despair.

He had outlasted them all—the Guys in White, Vlad, even Pariah Dark himself. He had survived, clawing his way through blood and betrayal, only to realize, too late, that survival was the cruelest fate of all.

He had lost everything.

His home—reduced to rubble. His friends—gone and buried beneath the wreckage of the school. Their last standing ground from the GIW's control or maybe blissfully scattered to the winds. His family—torn apart, mom and dad dead by his hands. Not purposely but they had picked their side. Jazz dead by theirs attempting to protect him. Their laughter, the happy family they were, now just a ghost in his hollow chest. His city, his obsession, his afterlife—all ashes, all dust. And what had he gained? A crown of thorns, a throne he never wanted. The title of King Phantom, ruler of the dead, sovereign of a graveyard empire.

He built a council. He forged a government. He crafted a system that could run without him—because he could not rule, not when every decree tasted of blood, not when every whisper of his subjects sounded like the voices of the lost. Not when he was so lost.

So he vanished.

Not in triumph, not in secrecy—but in surrender. He would sleep. Finally really sleep. He would sleep for centuries, for millennia even, until the worlds forgot his name. Until the stars themselves burned cold. Until even the memory of his suffering was nothing more than a sigh in the dark. And maybe, just maybe, if he slept long enough… he would forget, too.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Danny awoke to crying.

Not the wailing of the long-dead, nor the hollow sobs of forgotten spirits—but the raw, shuddering pleas of someone new. A voice too young, too broken, gasping between tears:

"Please—"

"Dad, I’m sorry—"

"B, you promised—"

Danny blinked slowly, his limbs heavy from his long sleep. His mind swam in fog, his body sluggish, as if moving through deep water. But the sound, a sound too familiar to ignore, pulled him forward, guiding him through the mist of his own exhaustion until he found the source—a boy.

A small, bloodied thing in a torn costume of green and red and gold, hunched over his own grave.

Danny’s chest ached.

Oh.

A newly dead. A child. One so much like him, once. Danny watched him for awhile. Days maybe? It had been such a long time since he had needed to keep track of time... He stepped closer, his voice soft as settling dust. "Hey."

The boy jerked upright, his masked face streaked with inky tears. "You—you can see me?"

Danny huffed a quiet laugh. "Oh, so he does talk."

The boy stared, trembling, his breath hitching. Danny knelt—not too close, not too far—and tilted his head. "My name’s Danny. What about you?"

The boy opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "My name? My name is… My name is…?" His voice cracked, panic rising like a tide. "My name—my name—?" He didn't remember. Not many ghostlings did.

"Hey, hey," Danny murmured, reaching out—not to touch, but to offer. With a thought, he summoned a little blob ghost, its form wobbly and bright, and placed it gently in the boy’s lap. The creature nuzzled against him, purring like a gooy contented cat. The boy’s hands stilled. Then, hesitantly, he began to pet it.

Danny smiled. "A name doesn’t have to be a name," he said softly. "It can be anything you’d like."

The boy swallowed. "...Robin," he whispered. "I’m Robin."

"Robin," Danny repeated, like it was something precious. "It’s good to meet you, kid."

A beat of silence. Then, small and scared:

"Am I dead?"

Danny’s core clenched. He let himself float just a little, settling cross-legged in the air, making himself smaller, lesser. "You are," he admitted gently. "I’m sorry, Robin."

The boy—Robin—choked on a sob. "Is that why Dad wouldn’t—why he didn’t—?" Danny didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Robin crumpled.

Without thinking, Danny reached out and gathered him close, tucking the boy against his chest the way Jazz had once held him so very long ago—after bad nights, after bad fights, after the world had been too much. "I know," he murmured, rocking him slightly. "I know. It sucks. It’s not fair. But you’re not alone, okay? Never alone." Robin shuddered, his tiny fists clutching Danny’s cloak of stars. Danny felt the threats forming, a soul bond. He had had one will Elle, with clockwork, with few others. A bond of trust.

Danny didn’t hesitate. He let his ecto unwind, warm and golden green and royal, and carefully, so carefully, began to mend the fractures in Robin’s soul. The pain, the fear, the jagged edges of a death too soon and too violent. The death of someone trying to be a hero—he took them into himself, replacing the hurt with quiet, with safety. Slowly, Robin’s breathing evened. His weight grew heavy against Danny’s shoulder.

Asleep.

Not that ghosts needed sleep. But children did. Danny exhaled, looking around the graveyard—at the other small, lost shades watching from the shadows. His chest tightened.

…He could help them.

Just for today. Just for now. He could make Gotham a little lighter. And maybe, just maybe, it would help Robin, too—to have something familiar.

Robin followed Phantom like a shadow—or, more accurately, like a small, determined firefly, darting after the king’s trailing cloak as he moved through Gotham’s gloom. Honestly the child was a little beacon of light. Bright like a little firefly.

At first, he simply watched.

Phantom moved like a whisper between worlds—guiding lost shades toward peace, nudging lingering spirits toward unfinished business, even coaxing the living, stubborn bleeding-hearted vigilantes, into just the right places at just the right times. They never knew they were being helped, of course. But Robin saw.

And slowly, he began to copy.

A nudge here—a whisper there. A flicker of movement to draw a grieving widow’s eye to a hidden letter. A gentle tug on a cape to steer a batarang just wide enough to avoid a fatal blow. Gotham, ever so slightly, began to brighten.

And so did Robin. So much brighter than the dead boy Danny had met. He had even taught the boy to change his form from his one in death to a Robin in life. He was so much brighter not covered in blood and debris..

Phantom watched, warmth curling in his core, as the boy—his little prince—blossomed. Robin laughed as he flew, spinning through the air like a fallen leaf caught in the wind. He chattered to the other ghosts, coaxing even the shyest shades out of their hiding spots. He guided lost souls with a patience that belied his age, his voice soft but steady—"It’s okay, you’re safe now"—and when they finally faded into peace, he turned to Phantom with stars in his eyes.

"Did you see! I did it on my own!"

Phantom ruffled his hair. "Yeah, kid. I saw."

And oh, the way Robin glowed.

He was happy here. Happy to help, happy to fly, happy to tuck himself under Phantom’s arm after a long night and murmur about all the things he’d seen, all the people he’d saved. Gotham was still dark. But now, there were pinpricks of light—like stars or tiny, stubborn sparks—where before there had been none. And at the center of them all, brighter than any ghost light, was Robin.

[snail-day]

Clubbing with Roommate!Suguru is… painful. For him.

He’s not a clubbing guy. Never has been. It's all too loud, sweaty, and far too many hands that grab without asking. He’d rather stay home, finish folding laundry, maybe light a nice candle, and pretend he’s the kind of man who doesn't ache every time his roommate walks into the room with that sweet little smile.

But when you asked, tilting your head, lashes batting, biting your pretty glossy lips, he said “sure” before he could think better of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He does. He just doesn’t trust every other scumbag in that club. Especially not with you. Not with your too-short dress, or how you keep turning to beam up at him, all radiant and warm, grabbing his hand as if you both are something more.

And he knows that you don't know what it does to him.

He's been good. He has. Clean dishes. Rent on time. Never crosses the line, never watches you sleep when you're napping on the couch no matter how soft you look. Never touches you for longer than he should.

But you're making it so damn hard tonight.

Clinging to his arm when the crowd gets too tight. Throwing your head back laughing at something he didn’t even say, then tucking yourself under his chin like a lover. Like this is normal.

He should go home.

He should let you have fun and stop being a possessive freak. But the moment he steps even an inch away, he watches a pair of hands start to inch toward you, and he’s behind you in seconds, hands curling around your waist like it’s his right. Pulling you back against him, grounding you.

“Careful, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low, controlled. “This place eats girls like you alive.”

You just giggle, arm curling around the back of his neck like it’s a slow dance and not a crowded bar. You lick the sweat from the column of his throat, lips brushing warm skin, and he goes still.

Dead still.

Because he knows it’s the alcohol. Knows this isn’t real. Knows you’re just tipsy and touchy and you do this to all your friends, right?

Right?

But it’s him you’re grinding on. It’s him you keep pulling close, whispering all your secrets to. And it’s him you end up leaning on in the elevator, too tired to stand upright, blinking up at him with that soft, sleepy pout that ruins him.

“I don’t wanna be single forever,” you mumble, voice thick, fingers curling into the front of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll slip away.

He swallows. Hard. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say -

“You’d be such a good boyfriend, Suguru.”

His breath catches.

He doesn’t answer. Just chuckles, low and strained, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he cups your face. “Alright, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

It should end there.

But no. Of course not. Because you’re tugging at the hem of your dress with lazy fingers, swaying on your feet, and now he has to help you undress like some kind of saint. He must be some kind of idiot.

“Hands up,” he says gently, not looking at your bare thighs as his shirt falls over your head. “One foot at a time - whoa, okay. I got you.”

You catch yourself on his shoulders, giggling sleepily as your fingers curl against his broad shoulders. His throat is dry. His jaw tight.

He helps you into bed. Tucks you in. But you groan, turning your face into the pillow, then looking up at him, makeup smudged and eyes glassy.

“I hate makeup,” you whine.

He smiles, the expression soft and too fond for his own good. “Then come here. Sit pretty for me.”

You huff, but obey. Legs swinging over the side of the bed as he kneels between them, cotton pad in hand, wiping your cheeks with tender, practiced strokes.

“You’re so bossy,” you mumble.

He laughs under his breath, eyes fixed on your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” he says without thinking.

Your eyes flutter open. Looking up into his violet ones.

He stiffens.

“Okay,” he says quickly, flustered, “Bedtime.”

You curl up on your side, breathing soft, face peaceful. But then you groan again, clutching your stomach.

“…Feel sick,” you whisper.

And that’s all it takes. He’s under the covers with you, just hovering. Just watching. Just making sure you’re okay.

Not because he loves you.

Not because he’s dying to touch you.

Just… for safety.

He’ll tell himself that again tomorrow.

When he’s doing the dishes. When your bra’s still hanging off the bathroom door. When your sleepy voice whispers his name in the middle of the night and his heart damn near breaks.

He’ll remind himself: you’re just roommates.

And you’re making it so hard.

More roommate! Geto: Here

[yurizq]

ෆ You had a point to prove.

Geto Suguru had been teasing you all day — smug little glances, fingers trailing down your back during dinner, subtle looks that promised far more than his polite words ever said aloud.

“You always act like you’re in charge,” you’d muttered earlier, arms crossed, daring him. “Bet you wouldn’t last if I got on top for once.”

He hadn’t even blinked. Just raised one perfectly smug brow. “Then ride me.”

That was two hours ago.

Now, your thighs were burning, straddling his lap, his cock stretching you open slow and deep. You had wanted control — had begged for it, practically climbed into his lap talking shit — but now?

You were shaking.

Geto looked up at you like he was watching a show. His arms were behind his head, relaxed, leaning back against the headboard like you weren’t absolutely wrecked above him.

“Getting tired already?” he asked, soft and smug.

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. Or maybe kiss it. Either way, you glared. “I’m… not done.”

You tried again — rising up, hips trembling, sliding back down with a quiet whimper. His cock filled you too deep, too thick, every drag of it sending shocks through your spine.

His hands twitched like he was restraining himself.

You rocked your hips slowly, trying to grind the way you’d practiced in the mirror once. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t even coordinated. You were losing rhythm, your arms barely keeping you upright against his chest.

Geto tilted his head slightly. “Not quite what you imagined?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled — soft, condescending. “You really thought you’d be the one in charge tonight?”

You collapsed forward, forehead on his shoulder, breathing hard. “I can do it—”

“No,” he said gently, voice dropping low. “You can’t.”

Before you could argue, his hands were gripping your hips — and suddenly he was thrusting up into you, hard, forcing your body down to meet every thrust.

You screamed.

“Suguru—!” you gasped, nails digging into his arms. “F-Fuck—”

“Oh? Now you remember my name?” he hissed against your ear, snapping his hips harder, rough and precise. “What happened to all that attitude?”

Your legs trembled uncontrollably.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he growled, fucking into you like he had something to prove. “Didn’t even last five minutes. Pathetic.”

You whined, sobbing into his skin. Every thrust sent you higher, every drag of his cock brushing that sensitive spot you could never quite reach on your own.

He knew your body too well.

“Was this what you wanted, baby?” he rasped. “Wanted to ride me, huh? Thought you could handle it?”

You nodded weakly, tears in your eyes. You were close, embarrassingly fast — again.

“I c-can’t—”

“You can,” he said sharply. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little girl, and then I’m going to fuck you again until you remember your place.”

You came with a choked cry, back arching, walls clenching so tight he groaned into your hair, thrusts stuttering.

“Fuck—look at that—” he growled, watching you fall apart in his lap, “you’re soaking me.”

You collapsed forward, boneless, twitching.

And he didn’t stop.

“Uh-uh,” he said lowly, flipping you onto your back with ease. “You wanted to be in control, didn’t you? Let’s see how much more this bratty little cunt can take.”

He thrust into you again — hard, fast, unrelenting.

You sobbed, overwhelmed.

Your body was wrecked, sticky and slick from your release, still stretched around his cock as he pounded into you. His hand wrapped around your throat lightly, not choking — just enough pressure to remind you who was really in charge.

“You wanted to ride me?” he whispered, leaning close, forehead touching yours. “Next time, ask nicely.”

You cried his name again — desperate, ruined — and when he finally came, it was deep, hot, buried to the hilt, groaning into your mouth as he filled you up.

You lay there for a long time after, chest heaving, clinging to his shoulders.

Suguru’s hand stroked your side gently, the dominance melted away now, his voice calm again.

“You’re cute when you try to be tough,” he murmured. “But next time… just let me take care of you.”

You pouted into his neck. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, kissing your hair.

“You started it.”

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying

wc: 1.9k

You hated running. No, correction, loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.

But when Aaron, your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive, asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg, Aaron Hotchner did not beg, but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.

So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.

Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad, shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.

He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.

Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.

"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical, anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"

"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."

"Not necessary, I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."

You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.

"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."

You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break, even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.

"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.

"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."

You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.

He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.

"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths, match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."

You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.

"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."

Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static. What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up, it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."

His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.

"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."

His voice, his god forsaken voice, was like lightning to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.

Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.

You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.

"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"

He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.

"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."

He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.

When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.

Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.

Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.

"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."

A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.

"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."

You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.

But then you saw it, the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"

Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.

You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.

"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."

"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"

He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.

"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it, that you liked it."

Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.

By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.

"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.

Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.

"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything, though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."

"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.

"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me, how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"

"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."

Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.

You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."

"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."

Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over, absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"

You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry, I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."

You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.

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[abbotjack]

Abbott with a ‘sir’ kink just feels right

(ps love your writing)

Oh absolutely—Jack Abbot with a ‘sir’ kink doesn’t just feel right—it explains so much. Man spent years in the military, still walks like command never left his body, and the second you call him "sir"? His jaw ticks. His breath catches. The air shifts. This is very him—and very you, ruined by him. 18+ ONLY. Do not interact if you’re a minor.

warnings/content: sir kink, emotionally repressed man finally losing control, rough sex, power dynamic tension, mentions of military trauma and death, alcohol (beer), reader is a fourth-year resident, Jack is Not Gentle™ p.s thank you so much to everyone who’s left kind words about my writing lately. it means more than you know <3

You weren’t supposed to be on shift. Memorial Day, supposedly protected on the schedule. But half the roster called off and you got the text at noon from Dana: we need you.

Jack was already in the trauma bay when you walked in—sleeves stained, voice low and clipped, the kind that made everyone fall in line without thinking. He didn’t say a word when he saw you. Just handed you a pair of gloves.

Now it’s past midnight. You’re outside the hospital, undershirt sweat-stuck to your spine. You could’ve walked home—it’s not far—but when Jack mutters, “You need a ride?” with his keys already in hand, you don’t say no.

His truck smells like unscented soap, clean cotton, and the faintest trace of leather—lived-in but scrubbed down, like everything else he keeps close. There’s nothing on the seats. No wrappers. No dust. Console organized, glove box latched. The kind of vehicle that’s been through things but still runs quiet—because he keeps it that way.

There’s a trauma kit in the backseat. You know without asking. Probably an extra pair of scrubs folded under it. Probably gloves in the door pocket, a stethoscope stuffed between the seats.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, wrist loose, posture upright. No music playing. Just the low, occasional murmur of the police scanner tucked under the dash.

He doesn’t talk while driving. He doesn’t fill silence for the sake of it. Jack Abbot isn’t wired for background noise. He reads intersections like patients—measures, anticipates, adjusts. Everything he does has a reason.

Even the way he glances over at you at the red light, like he’s making sure you haven’t slipped out of his orbit yet.

“You eat today?” he asks, like he already knows the answer.

You shake your head. “When would I have?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just lets out a breath through his nose, turns the wheel one-handed.

“You’re coming back to mine,” he says.

Not a question. Not even an offer.

Just... routine.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

You’ve done this enough times to know there’ll be cold beer in the fridge, maybe leftover pasta—if Robby didn’t steal it last time he dropped by. Jack won’t say a word when you kick off your shoes at the door like you live here, too.

The house is dark when you step inside, but it smells like cedar and clean soap and something warmer beneath it—wood polish, maybe. His kind of clean. The kind that comes from knowing where everything belongs and putting it there, every time.

He moves through the space like it’s muscle memory, like the floor was built to match his stride. The quiet step of his prosthetic against the hardwood is as familiar to you now as the creak in the cabinet hinge he still hasn’t fixed.

“You want one?” he calls from the kitchen, already pulling open the fridge.

You murmur a quiet yeah and drift in, leaning your hip against the counter as he cracks two beers open. He sets one in front of you without looking. The cap lands in the little dish on the windowsill with a soft clink—just like all the others piled inside it. A dozen, at least. Maybe more.

The house is nice. Not just for a guy like him, but nice by any standard. Exposed beams. Matte black fixtures. Shelves that look like they belong in a magazine but you know he built them himself. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need decorating because it was built right the first time.

You take your beer and head into the living room. Sit where you always do.

He follows, lowering himself into the armchair across from you with practiced ease. Weight shifts left, then the soft tap of his prosthetic finds the floor. You know the rhythm of how he moves—how he balances, how he settles. He doesn’t hide it. Doesn’t explain it. And you’ve never needed him to.

You glance at him.

“What,” he says.

“You always sit like that,” you reply.

He arches a brow. Not challenging—just neutral.

“You lead with your left,” you clarify.

“I don’t think about it.”

You nod. “Yeah. I know.”

You both sip in silence for a while. There’s a radio scanner in the corner near the window. It’s on, low. Something crackles and fades out.

“Why do you always work Memorial Day?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Don’t like being told to take the day off.”

That makes you smile. “So, spite.”

He doesn't smile back, but his voice shifts just enough to tell you it landed. “Something like that.”

You stretch your legs out. Rest the bottle on your thigh. “You ever miss it?”

Jack looks at the wall behind you—not through you, just past. Not escaping. Recalling.

“No.”

You wait.

“I miss the parts that made sense. Waking up every day with a mission. Knowing the rules. Knowing what mattered.” He looks at you. “But I don’t miss the heat. The sand. The sound a man makes when he thinks he’s going to die.”

You nod, slow. He’s not looking for sympathy. You don’t offer it.

You shift a little on the couch, not even thinking before you say, “Do you miss the authority? Like... being called ‘sir’ all the time?”

He glances at you. Not sharply. Just long enough to let the question hang.

Then he looks away again. Back to the bottle in his hands.

“I miss not having to explain myself,” he says. “That’s about it.”

You smile a little, trying to cut through it. “Well, you’re still kind of terrifying when you want to be.”

His mouth twitches. Almost a smile.

You tip your head toward him. “Sir.”

Just a murmur. Barely there. But he hears it.

He stills.

Doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t answer.

He just... sets his beer down.

Carefully. Quietly.

Jack leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he’s walking himself through something he already decided an hour ago.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

He holds your gaze, steady. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t move.

Just waits—like he’s giving you a last chance to pull back, even if part of him knows you won’t.

And when you don’t—when you just sit there, breathing quiet and not taking it back—

He stands and crosses the room—measured, quiet, with that same deliberate ease he always has right before everything changes.

You set your beer down without thinking.

When he stops in front of you, he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t touch you.

Just looks at you.

You’re still sitting, hands loose in your lap, heart loud in your chest. You tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“Still sure?” he asks.

You nod.

That’s all it takes.

He leans in—both hands coming to your face, one curling against your jaw, the other threading into your hair—and kisses you like he’s been trying not to for a long time. His body tilts over yours, braced, sure.

It’s not gentle. It’s not rough. It’s need—heat, breath, a scrape of teeth. You tilt into it, fingers catching the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself like you’re afraid he might pull away.

When you stand—rising into him—it’s instinct, seamless. That’s when his hands find your waist, gripping like he’s finally letting himself touch what he’s wanted all along.

“You want this?” he asks, breath hot against your cheek.

You nod, already breathless. “Yes.”

He steps back—not far. Just enough to let you follow.

You do.

No words. No second thoughts. Just the sound of your breathing and the quiet creak of floorboards beneath his steps.

The bedroom is like the rest of the house—dark, clean, minimal. Black sheets. Hardwood floors. A space that’s only ever held him, until now.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s already working your pants down—no fumbling, just intent. Mouth on your jaw, breath hot and uneven as he pulls them past your thighs.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says, almost under his breath.

You do. Of course you do. Every look, every shift in his voice, every beer he handed you with his jaw clenched too tight.

You step out of the last of your clothes. He does the same—fast, practiced, stripped down to nothing but need.

He backs you toward the bed, then pushes you gently by the hips. You go easily, falling back onto the sheets, legs parting before you even think about it.

Jack stares.

His body over yours—solid, scarred, familiar—but his face?

Wrecked.

“This,” he says, low, like he’s not even speaking to you, like he’s talking to the version of himself that told him not to touch you. “This was always gonna happen.”

Then he’s on you.

No teasing. No delay.

Just his mouth, hot and heavy between your legs, tongue dragging slow and purposeful until you’re arching off the bed with a sound you barely recognize as yours.

You grip the sheets. His shoulders. Anything.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t even look up.

Just groans low into you like he’s addicted to the way you fall apart under his hands.

You’re already shaking when he pulls back, mouth wet, chest rising.

“Turn over,” he says, voice wrecked.

You hesitate just a beat—enough to see the way he breathes when you do it. When you shift onto your stomach, hips lifted, arms bracing.

You hear the sound of the condom, fast. Efficient.

And then—

Jack’s hand on your lower back. Steady.

And the way he slides into you? Slow. So deep it knocks the air out of you.

He curses under his breath. Grips your hip with one hand and the back of your neck with the other—not to force you down. Just to hold you there. Like he needs you solid. Still.

You moan into the mattress. He groans above you, pace already building.

Every thrust is measured. Heavy. Earned.

“Fuck, you feel—” he breaks off. “I can’t—Jesus.”

You push back into him, and he snarls something low and wordless. One of his hands slides around to your front, fingers finding you again.

“Come for me,” he growls. “Right fucking now.”

And you do.

Hard.

So hard your voice breaks.

He groans—sharp, wrecked, desperate—and follows you over the edge with one last thrust, hips grinding against yours as he comes with a sound that tears right through your spine.

You both collapse, tangled, shaking, breathless.

Nothing moves for a long time.

You stare up at the ceiling, lips parted, chest still rising and falling.

Then, quiet—almost lazy—you murmur, “I guess I should start calling you that more often.”

Jack doesn’t lift his head, but you can feel the tension in his body change. Loosen. Settle.

“You do that,” he mutters, voice half-buried in your neck, “and I’m not gonna make it to shift tomorrow.”

You turn toward him, drape an arm across his chest, skin still hot against yours.

“Guess we’ll test that theory.”

Jack exhales, something low and rough in his throat—just close enough to be a laugh.

[smileycarat]

getting carried away with kissing heeseung

heeseung x reader

description: a sweet kiss that turns into a desperate, sloppy makeout sesh

a/n: suggestive and my first attempt at writing a kissing scene lmao

kissing hee always starts innocently enough.

he always comes to you with doe eyes, sometimes with a small smile as he leans in, sometimes with a pout depending on his day. but he always is looking at you with those doe eyes of his, and it's always incredibly hard to deny him.

he has the habit of cupping the back of your neck to pull you close to him, your height does not make a difference as his right hand will always find its way to the back of your neck to tilt your head to the angle he finds necessary to kiss you.

the first kiss can always start as something as simple as a peck pressed firmly but true to your lips. it's always as if he forgets about the pleasure he gets from kissing you and acts like its the first time all over again with the rush he says he gets.

it's easy to tell when he gets overwhelmed and feels like one sweet kiss isn't enough because a small whine from the back of his throat will escape as you are pulling away only for him to pull you back in for a longer kiss.

suddenly there's so much but not enough of you, and he is feeling like he will never get his fill with the intensity of your kiss. it's just you and him and nothing else and suddenly he can't even hold himself upright as he wants to pull you impossibly closer.

somehow he manages to find purchase of a wall to lean you both against and both of his hands envelop both sides of your face. both of you are so tightly pressed against each other, somehow supporting your weight with one another.

god forbid you pull away for a half second as a small, high-pitched noise escapes him and he continues his kisses to the side of your face and down your neck. gasps fill the room before you pull him back from the hair at the base of his neck, which makes the poor man's knees crumble and his eyes roll to the back of his head before you connect your lips back to his.

the kiss is suddenly becoming wetter and more desperate, both of you suddenly more frantic and with a sense of urgency that would both lead you to think back with embarrassment. his nose bumps delicately and then harshly against yours as you both tilt your heads from one side and then to the other.

heeseung makes the most beautiful noises when your hands start exploring his body just as much, but especially when you start to pull on his hair. however, his moans reach a new level of frenzied when you bite on his lip.

there is a new crazed look in his eye when you both now are forced to pull away for air and he catches the string of spit that connects your lip to his before it snaps away.

he wears the prettiest blush on the top of his cheeks and his once-doe eyes are now heavy-lidded with an ardent desire and he once again can't control the urges that take over him as he pulls you harder against the wall and into a deeper kiss

[4ranghaes]

thoughts and opinions on how the members would react if another bnd member were to accidentally walk in during freaky time? 🫠

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd when another member walks in !

bnd ot6 x reader [smut, separate classifications for each]

a/n: you won't believe this but this was half written in my drafts already before you requested😭😭😭

sungho🎀 ft. taesan! [fem!sub!reader, dom!sungho, nothing much else to warn about lol]

“fuck, y/n– so fucking good,” sungho muttered, his hips pistoning into yours at a bruising pace. your back was against his chest, one of his hands gripping your hair to keep control, the other circling your clit. you had your head flung back on his shoulder, eyes closed, tight-lipped as you tried to hold back your moans.

you had already cum twice this evening, sungho’s desire not letting up as he continued to push you through orgasm after orgasm.

“s-su-sungho,” you moaned, one of your hands moving to grip at the roots of his hair.

“shh, shh, shh,” he hushed you, his harsh grip on your hair changing to a comforting pet, “don’t let the members know what we’re doing, huh baby?”

you whined, as sungho laughed at your reaction. he shoved you down onto the bed, hand on the back of your head as he held you down, shifting position as he stood at the edge of the bed. as his cock re-entered your tightness, his hips resumed their brutal attack.

“o-oh–” a quiet voice came.

suddenly, your connected bodies were illuminated from the hallway light spilling into the room.

“oh, fuck!” sungho exclaimed loudly, quickly trying to cover up your naked body anyway he could, first his body, then his hands, then the blanket, while a shocked taesan continued to stand in the doorway.

“i–i’m— oh my– i’m sorry—” he stuttered.

you laughed, having been wrapped up in the blanket, as sungho stood, his hard cock still upright as he motioned furiously at taesan.

“get the fuck out, dongmin!” he yelled.

“what’s happening?” riwoo asked, beginning to open his bedroom door.

“nothing!” taesan exclaimed, slamming sungho’s bedroom door shut before the trauma could spread any further.

“jesus christ,” sungho breathed, laying his body over yours, his face burying in your neck, embarrassed as you just laughed. “y/n, that was not funny.”

you smiled, kissing his head, “it kinda was.”

riwoo🦦🍡 ft. leehan! [fem!reader, no real sub/dom dynamics, dry humping, riwoo cums in his pants]

“you’re so beautiful,” riwoo grinned, the playful laughter coming from the two of you and the tickle match you’d been engaging in dying down as you remained seated atop your boyfriend, who was laying down.

he was looking up at you with honey eyes, one of his hands interlocked with yours as the other rested on your hip. you smiled, beginning to grind your clothed heat over riwoo’s growing bulge.

his eyes fluttered shut, his head flinging back against the pillow as he sighed out a groan.

“so good to me, sweet,” he said, his breathing becoming heavier as your pace increased, the two of you desperately humping on each other.

his hand moved to your clothed core, pulling the material tight to admire the visible wet patch on your panties, and the way it was spreading to his grey sweatpants.

“fuck– y/n— i’m cumming,” riwoo hissed, as you whined.

“i’m not even close,” you pouted, both of your garments well and truly being soaked as hot cum spilled from your boyfriend’s tip, though your hips didn’t slow down; riwoo’s grip on your thighs tightening in response.

“hyung, do you want to order chicken?”

both your’s and riwoo’s heads snapped to the door, leehan looking between the two of you. he looked at your shocked expressions, furrowing his eyebrows.

“what?”

the position may have been compromising, yes, but you were also fully clothed, and from the door leehan couldn’t see anything wrong.

“dong–donghyun get– just give us a min— fuck,” riwoo couldn’t help but let a groan slip out as he adjusted his body, desperately trying to not let leehan see the spilled cum all over your cores.

“oh,” leehan spoke, eyes suddenly widening as he caught onto your panicked expressions and frozen bodies, “just… come out when you’ve finished. or when you’re done. come… out. fuck. i’ll leave now.”

“please do,” you said, laughing in embarrassment.

leehan smiled awkwardly before backing out the door, closing it in front of him.

riwoo’s face was screwed up when you looked back to him, eyes squeezed shut tight and nose scrunched up in embarrassment.

“oh my god,” you laughed, covering your face with your hands before leaning forward into your boyfriend’s chest.

“ya, why is he such a weirdo,” riwoo laughed, “ugh, kim donghyun!”

jaehyun🪻🐕 ft.sungho! [fem!reader, kinda dom!jaehyun, cocky!jaehyun, fingering, exhibitionism, jaehyun terrorising the boys and the dorm]

“get off me jaehyun,” you threatened, feeling your boyfriend’s hand creeping down your body.

an evil laugh erupted from his mouth as he looked at your serious expression.

“no!” you exclaimed, catching his hand as he started climbing up your skirt and descending into your panties, “jaehyun. we promised the boys we’d stop having sex in the living room.”

“oh come on, this is hardly sex,” he scoffed, your grasp somehow letting up, his fingers now working on your clit as you sighed in satisfaction. “and look how good it feels, baby. don’t you want this?”

you rolled your eyes before smiling, leaning up and pressing repetitive, hungry kisses to your boyfriend’s lips, “i really do.”

jaehyun smirked, working one finger, then two, inside of you, his thumb continuing to apply pressure on your clit. your hips thrusted gently, chasing the feeling, while your lips hardly left his. for as much as jaehyun loved giving kisses, you’d found a rhythm of sloppily making out every single time, and by now it was one of your favourite parts of sex with your boyfriend.

“oh, come on you two,” sungho said, exasperating.

you pulled away from jaehyun’s lips with a gasp, though the boy just smirked at you, his hand not moving an inch. he looked up to sungho and laughed, “what?”

“look, i know the agreement was no sex but we all know where this leads too! stop making out in the living room!” he scolded, approaching to sit down next to you.

you looked with a terrified expression to jaehyun, who was still chuckling.

“what?” sungho said, worried.

“what?” jaehyun asked, a cocky smile on his face.

“you’re being weird. and she looks… like she’s being held here against her will,” sungho said, examining your face, “y/n, what is he doing to you now—”

sungho quickly connected the dots, before he could finish his thought. he looked down, seeing jaehyun’s hand up your skirt. he couldn’t help but laugh, exasperated.

“are you joking me? ya, myung jaehyun you have no fucking shame!” he scolded, “go to your bedroom now!”

“why don’t you?” jaehyun tested, “we might be a while.”

you hid your face in jaehyun’s chest, embarrassed, as sungho scoffed.

“out! now!”

taesan🎸🐈‍⬛ ft.riwoo! [sub!taesan, dom!fem!reader, masochist!tae, mentions of tae being marked up/bleeding, slapping, cock ring]

“tae, look at me,” you commanded, tugging on his red locks, “baby. look at me, come on.”

taesan whined, eyes heavy as he looked up at you. you slapped his cheek, trying to get him to snap back to reality. he moaned at the impact.

“you’re such a little slut,” you laughed, “but you need to come back to me, okay? cause i’m not done with you. so i’m not gonna touch you for a while, i’m gonna touch myself and you have to watch.”

taesan nodded lazily. his hands were tied tightly behind his back, attached to his ankles as he sat on his knees on the floor in front of his bed. his breath was laboured as he looked up at you, body bruised and scratched, his face was red from being repetitively slapped as well. he was bleeding from a couple places and had hickies littered all over his chest and back. he was naked, cock standing upright and it had a silver ring on tightly at the base.

“don’t take your eyes off me, baby, otherwise i’ll have to punish you later,” you said, settling onto the edge of the bed and spreading your legs, revealing your soaking pussy to your boyfriend.

he moaned loudly at the reveal, desperate expression as he tried to move closer. you smiled, beginning to circle your clit. your mouth dropped open, breathing deepening as pleasure spread through your body. taesan was groaning as he watched, hand ties rattling as he pulled at them.

“i wanna taste you so bad,” he moaned, looking up at you with big eyes.

“taesan-ah!” the door swung open, riwoo barging in with a jar in one hand. “i need you to open this again for me—”

he stopped completely, eyes widening as he assessed the scene. you and taesan did the same, not moving a muscle, staring back at the boy. riwoo backed out the room slowly, closing the door behind him without saying a word.

“oh my god,” you said, snapping your head back to your boyfriend.

“oh my god,” he replied, flopping forward onto your lap, burying his head in your thigh, “i can’t. get this off me. oh my god i’m gonna die.”

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you whined, laughing in embarrassment.

“it’s not, it’s never gonna be okay again,” taesan whined as you undid the hand ties, taesan quickly tugging off the cock ring and jumping into bed.

“dongmin,” you pouted, climbing in after him.

“i’m leaving the band.”

leehan🪸🐠 ft.woonhak! [dom!leehan, sub!fem!reader, cum kink]

“fuck,” leehan swore, his hand gripping the curve of your hip, just above your ass, watching as it slammed down over and over again on his cock. “fuck always feel so good for me.”

your ass was covered in leehan’s cum, not to mention the stuff dripping out your hole. your boyfriend always liked it messy but this was ridiculous.

he was sat lazily in his desk chair, watching you do the work as his head lulled back, biting his lip. he brought a hand to the thick liquid, scooping it up before bringing his soaked hand around your body and feeding it into your mouth. you moaned against his fingers.

leehan laughed at the sound. the boys were home, and he knew it, so did you, but when leehan got an idea in his head, it was hard to get it back out. he’d seen this angle, this exact scene, in a porn just the other day, and he’d been dying to try it with you, bringing it up over text and initiating it almost as soon as he saw you.

“donghyun– i’m– i– oh fuck! i’m tired,” you whined, panting as you continued to bounce up and down.

leehan ran a hand over your ass, the hand getting dirty as he smacked the skin. he used his clean hand to grip your hair, pulling you back so his mouth was next to your ear. “i don’t give a fuck, baby girl. keep going until i say we’re done, okay?”

you moaned loudly, whining and whimpering as you continued the motion of your hips.

“good girl,” leehan smirked.

suddenly, the door opened, making you gasp, ceasing your motion. leehan chuckled, allowing it, as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body.

“what?”

“hyung,” woonhak’s voice came, though he didn’t show himself behind the door, “uh. um the other members asked me to come in and um…”

“and?” leehan asked, voice cocky. you smacked his thigh, glaring at him. the two of you clearly knew what he was asking. your boyfriend just laughed. “ask us to stop fucking so loudly?”

you were so embarrassed, whining and hiding your face in leehan’s neck.

“yeah,” woonhak chuckled, “sorry. sounds like you guys were… having fun? i just– it’s our only day off. maybe you could go to y/n’s place?”

“sorry, woonhak!” you spoke up, wincing from embarrassment.

“that’s okay, noona,” he said, “yeah, just… stop now. please.”

the door shut and you smacked leehan’s shoulder, whining.

“what?” he laughed, “you knew they were home.”

“i know! but it’s you who got us into this mess,” you pouted, “fucking clean me up.”

“it’d be my pleasure—”

“not like that!”

woonhak🧸 ft.jaehyun! [no sub/dom dynamics, fem!reader, overdramatic jaehyun]

“oh fuck, y/n,” woonhak moaned, watching the way his cock disappeared inside you.

you giggled as his hands refused to leave their interlinked state with yours, “feel good?”

woonhak smiled, panting and groaning, “you drive me crazy. so good.”

“my thighs hurt,” you pouted, leaning down and placing your hands on your boyfriend’s cheeks, stroking gently as you kissed his lips, “can you help?”

woonhak smiled, hooded eyes watching you. his hands moved to start massaging your thighs before he flipped you over, bringing your thighs to straddle his body, hands not leaving your bare skin as he set a new pace, thrusting in and out. you both moaned as he sunk back inside.

“woonhak-ah!” jaehyun called, “woonhak! my baby! where were you in the studio, i missed—”

the older boy gasped as he entered the room, a shocked look painted on his face. woonhak started panicking, covering you with the duvet before scrambling out of bed, grabbing one of your disregarded t-shirts to hold over his exposed junk.

“hyung?!” woonhak exclaimed, “what the fuck are you still doing here?! get out!”

“wh-wha— why– when? i can’t— woonhak, my– my baby— since… when…?” jaehyun stuttered.

“i– i’ll answer all your questions tomorrow can you just… get out?!” woonhak scoffed, beginning to shove his friend.

jaehyun was staring at you now, looking betrayed as you laughed slightly, sitting up and making sure to cover yourself with the duvet.

“i- i liked you… i trusted you…” jaehyun whispered.

“hyung,” woonhak laughed, shoving his unmoving friend, “please! leave!”

“okay,” jaehyun said, “but this is not over. we’re talking about this tomorrow. we’re having the talk. are you using protection?!”

“hyung! get out!”

[gloomwitchwrites]

I dont remember seeing something like this, but how do you think the boys would react to their crush walking in on them jacking off?

Could be headcanons or a short fic/scenario idk have fun with this or just ignore it.

:P

Anon, I'm sure you probably thought this would be something cute, sweet, and fluffy...and I went and made it smutty. Won't lie, anon, my brain saw the way forward, and it was naughty. So...have fun! I know I did!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: masturbation, mutual masturbation, cum swallowing, oral sex, hand jobs, piv sex, creampie, swearing, dirty talk

Word Count: 1.3k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Price is alone, which is why he feels safe in easing the tension.

A lone lamp on the corner of his desk illuminates just enough of the small office to see by. Price is slouched in his chair, legs spread and relaxed, the front of his pants open. He fists his cock, eyelids heavy as he replays the events of the day.

You’re a sweet thing, but off-limits to him. Every smile and playful wink send blood rushing to his dick. He can’t help himself. Price is enamored with you.

And because he’s lost in your image, too focused on imagining your pussy as his hand, Price doesn’t notice when you enter his office.

It’s the inhale that gives you away. A sharp surprise that has Price’s hand stilling.

Price coughs. Clears his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” you murmur, hand slightly raised.

Price freezes, his brain stuttering out as you gracefully glide across the floor, coming around the side of his desk. Your gaze lingers on his face before it drops to his groin. You lick your lips, and Price nearly groans at that hungry glint.

Slowly, you sink to your knees. “Keep going,” you say in that breathy tone.

This time, Price’s muscles melt, becoming putty, answering of their own accord. Holding your gaze, he strokes himself, a tightness forming at the base of his spine. When you lean forward, and present your open mouth, Price loses all control.

A few more strokes and ropes of cum hit your extended tongue. Your eyes shine with lust. The tip of your tongue curls to lick up the few remaining drops. Price decides right then. Before you leave, he’s taking you on the desk.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Keys in the deadbolt. Shopping bags in hand. You’re home a bit early, but that’s fine. Johnny, your roommate, shouldn’t be here. But as you enter the living room, everything freezes—grinds to a halt. Johnny is completely fucking naked, and he’s—

Johnny groans your name, head tilted back to rest on the lip of the sofa, his hand around his cock stroking rapidly. You nearly trip over your own feet as you stumble to a stop. The crinkle of the grocery bags fills the room, and Johnny bolts upright, standing quickly, alert and on edge, gaze darting everyone before landing on you.

“Fuck,” he says, just as you exclaim, “Oh my God.”

Every taut muscle is on display. Sure, you’ve eyed him a few times, but you’ve always kept your distance. Been respectful. But you’re salivating over this specimen before you, gaze falling to his erect penis that juts up toward the ceiling.

“Like what you see, lass?” he coos, and your pussy immediately clenches.

Your face grows hot. “I—”

“Put those bags down. Come here,” he says in that same, sultry timbre. Johnny fists the base of his cock.

You promptly drop the bags and take a step forward, unsure of why you’re complying except that your pussy is eager that you are.

“That’s it,” he praises as you draw close. “Stop right there.” You halt, gazing down at him as he spreads himself wide for your viewing pleasure. “Take it off.” Your workout clothes you went to the store in are gone in an instant. “Sit. Spread those legs for me.”

You sink down next to him on the sofa, leaning against the armrest as you open for him.

“Fucking hell, lass. I’ve been wanting to see you like this for ages.” You preen under that praise, wanting nothing more than to please him. “Play with your clit,” he instructs.

As you swirl a finger around that sensitive bud, Johnny starts to masturbate, his gaze locked onto your pussy. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect,” he murmurs.

The two of you move together, and when you dip one finger into your pussy, Johnny’s eyelids flutter, and the moan he releases his downright feral.

With his other hand, Johnny cups his balls, squeezing them slightly as he fucks up into his hand. Another thrust, and then ropes of cum spurt onto his chiseled stomach.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon pretends that it’s a mistake, that he didn’t plan for this to happen. But he’s a selfish bastard, and you’re the woman he’s been lusting after for months. He knew you’d walk in. Knew you’d join in if he remained confident and steadfast in his actions.

Now, here you are. Watching. Staring. Engrossed in the way Simon pleases himself.

“You want me, love? Because I want you,” he croons.

The sweetest thing about it is how you saunter over to him, nodding in eagerness, discarded your clothes like they burn your skin. No. Not a crush any longer. A lover. That’s what you are now, and Simon intends to keep you.

Simon continues to stroke himself, forcing you to stay on your knees—forcing you to watch as he brings himself closer to release. You lick your lips, admiring every stroke and touch, and that is enough to bring him closer.

“In my lap,” he growls, his voice throaty and gruff.

You staddle him, and then Simon is easing you down onto his cock. It won’t be long. Just a couple quick thrusts. And that is all it takes. Simon grips your hips, holding you down on him as he coats your pussy with his cum.

“That was for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours. “Now it’s your turn.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is naked from the waist down, his joggers bunched around his ankles, his hand fisting his cock. You’re enthralled by the sudden surprise of finding him this way. You knocked on his door, heard a grunt, and thought that meant you should come in.

Clearly, it wasn’t. Clearly, Kyle’s grunt was one of pleasure and not an invitation.

Even standing there as you are, you believe that you haven’t been noticed, that Kyle does not detect your presence. But the smallest gasp escapes you as a pearly bead of cum blooms in the slit, and a sharp desire to lick it up emerges forth without coaxing.

Kyle’s eyes snap open, his entire body tensing as the two of you lock gazes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sitting up, glancing around like he’s not sure what to do next. “Sorry.”

“No,” you reply. “No. It’s fine, Kyle. I intruded.” Instead of reaching for his pants, he grabs the pillow, covering himself. “Don’t stop on my account.” The words fall from your lips easily.

Kyle glances up in surprise. “You…”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” you murmur, taking a step back.

“Wait,” and his voice is a sharp command. His gaze is serious. Pointed. “Come here.”

Liquid heat swells, urging you forward, urging you on until you’re standing directly in front of him. Kyle removes the pillow and you reach out, fisting his cock.

“Can I?” you ask, and Kyle nods with a groan.

You gently fist him, pumping slowly, watching in fascination as more precum emerges from the tip. Your head dips, tongue sliding over the slit. Kyle shudders, and your pussy grows wet. As your lips suction onto the head, you forget the earlier embarrassment. Taking more each time you come down, the room fills with the wet glide of your mouth around his cock and Kyle’s moans.

You’ve dreamed about this. Dreamed about him. And clearly, he has too, because Kyle is whispering your name, raining praises onto you that makes your cunt clench with anticipation. Another good suction and Kyle explodes down your throat, coating the inside of your mouth with cum.

You lick him clean, then wipe up the remains around the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Omg god can you please do a forced marriage au. Where reader is being weirdly clingy(Ik it doesn’t really fit her vibe) and rafe’s weirded out. And she kisses him unexpectedly and he’s so confused.

Drunk kisses || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: fluffy fic which ik all of you have been wanting in this au so u are welcome ;)

Warnings: none really just fluff

Word count: 2,380

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Rafe barely glanced up from his laptop when the front doorbell rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet of the house, but he quickly resumed typing, thinking nothing of it at first. It rang again, more insistently this time, drawing his attention. He frowned, closing his laptop and glancing toward the hallway.

"Anita?" he called out, expecting the familiar shuffle of the housekeeper’s footsteps. But silence greeted him in return. He checked his watch—it was past midnight. Of course, everyone had gone home by now.

With a frustrated sigh, Rafe stood and headed toward the foyer, the steady ringing making him wonder who could possibly be at their door at such an ungodly hour. He glanced at the small display screen by the entrance, his brow furrowing at the sight of you. You were slumped against your sister, who looked like she was struggling to hold you upright. Rafe’s confusion deepened as he swung open the door.

Before he could say anything, you staggered forward, collapsing right into his arms. Charlotte let out a startled gasp, covering her mouth in shock as Rafe instinctively caught you, his hands gripping your waist to steady you. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath, trying to process what was happening. You looked up at him with a lazy, drunken smile, the scent of alcohol heavy on your breath.

The sight of you—usually so composed and poised—now giggling like a carefree girl was jarring. “Oh, look, Lottie! It’s my husband. My gorgeous husb—” you slurred, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you tried to blow a strand of hair away from your face. But before you could finish, Rafe cut you off, his annoyance already simmering beneath the surface.

"How much did you let her drink?" he snapped, turning his icy blue gaze toward Charlotte. There was disbelief in his voice, a hint of something protective and yet frustrated. You had been out of control before, but never like this. “I—I tried,” Charlotte stammered, her face flushed with guilt. “I gave her something else—”

“What? More alcohol?” Rafe’s tone was sharp, and Charlotte flinched under his harsh words. He couldn’t believe it. You were usually guarded, careful—this wasn’t like you at all. Rafe glanced down at you again, a mixture of irritation and concern flashing across his face as you leaned further into him, still smiling like the world was spinning too slowly for you.

"We're supposed to have breakfast with your parents tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw clenched, the thought of having to face them with you like this filling him with dread. As much as he loathed the idea of those formal meals, they mattered in your world—the perfect image you were both supposed to maintain.

Rafe struggled to keep you upright, your legs barely cooperating as you leaned heavily against him, still giggling softly. His frustration flared again, and he shot a sharp glance at Charlotte, who stood frozen in the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. “How the hell did this even happen?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous.

Charlotte hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “She… she just kept ordering more drinks. I tried to stop her, I swear, but she insisted. And, well, you know how stubborn she can get.” Rafe let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I know." He looked down at you as you murmured something incoherent, your fingers toying with the collar of his shirt.

"And you didn’t think to call me? Or at least cut her off?” “I—” Charlotte started but quickly swallowed her words when Rafe’s icy gaze met hers again. "I thought she'd sober up. I didn’t want to make a scene… and she kept saying she was fine." "Clearly, she’s not fine," Rafe snapped, his tone sharp as he adjusted his grip on you, trying to stop you from slipping further down his side.

“You should’ve stopped her. God, Charlotte, you know we have that damn breakfast tomorrow.” Charlotte’s eyes widened as if realising the gravity of the situation all over again. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I really didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand…” Rafe clenched his jaw, his patience thinning with each passing second. “Well, it did. And now I have to deal with this.” He shook his head, his grip tightening slightly on your waist as he hoisted you up a little higher.

“Mmm… Rafe," you mumbled softly, your head lolling against his chest. “You're always so serious.” Your words slurred together, and you let out another soft laugh, as if this entire situation was some kind of joke. Rafe's brow furrowed, his annoyance tempered for a moment by the sight of you so completely out of character. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—carefree, uninhibited, and honestly, it unnerved him.

“You should go home, Charlotte,” Rafe finally said, his voice quieter now but still holding that authoritative edge. “I’ll take care of her.” Your sister looked hesitant, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe. "Are you sure? I can help—" "No, just go. You've done enough." His tone left no room for argument, and Charlotte sighed in defeat, giving him a small nod before stepping back toward the door.

“I really am sorry,” she murmured softly, her voice laced with guilt. She cast one last glance at you, who was now resting your head against Rafe’s chest, your arms loosely draped around his neck. Rafe didn’t respond, his attention now fully on you as Charlotte finally made her exit.

The front door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit foyer. You stirred in his arms, blinking up at him with bleary eyes, the remnants of your smile still lingering. “You always look so serious, Rafe,” you whispered, your words thick with exhaustion. “Why can’t you just… relax?” Rafe sighed deeply, his frustration mixing with an odd sense of helplessness.

He wasn’t used to feeling like this—torn between annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite place. "Because someone has to be," he muttered, more to himself than to you. You giggled again, leaning your forehead against his chest. “Maybe I should be serious too, then. Like you. So we can both be… boring together.” You laughed softly at your own words, your fingers tracing absentminded circles on his chest.

Rafe’s lips twitched again, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through his usually stoic expression. You were a mess, slurring your words and giggling like a child, but in the soft, dim glow of the foyer, you looked undeniably beautiful. Strands of hair framed your face in a way that made you seem even more delicate, your skin glowing faintly under the soft lighting.

For a fleeting moment, he found himself captivated by how vulnerable and unguarded you appeared—so different from the strong-willed woman he was used to. But he quickly shook the thought away, forcing himself to stay focused. This was not the time to get caught up in sentiment. “You’re drunk,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time, though still touched with that same gentleness that had snuck in earlier.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed before you say something else you’ll regret.” His eyes lingered on your face, watching as your expression shifted from amusement to a peaceful kind of daze. The way you leaned further into him, trusting him completely in your intoxicated state, stirred something unexpected within him—an unfamiliar blend of protectiveness and tenderness.

It unsettled him, but he pushed it aside, convincing himself it was just the responsibility of the moment. You hummed softly, your eyes fluttering closed, a contented sigh slipping past your lips. “Mmm… my gorgeous husband, taking care of me,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying a playful edge that made Rafe’s heart beat a little faster.

Even drunk, you were still testing him, still finding a way to get under his skin. He rolled his eyes, though there was no real malice behind it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m your gorgeous husband,” he muttered, half-exasperated, half-amused as he tightened his grip on you, making sure you were secure in his arms. “Let’s just focus on getting you upstairs in one piece.”

You chuckled softly, your head resting more comfortably against his chest, your breath warm against the fabric of his shirt. “Always so serious…” you mumbled, your voice trailing off as sleep began to claim you. Rafe glanced down at you again, shaking his head slightly. Even in this state, you still managed to get to him. He started moving toward the stairs, his steps careful as he balanced your weight against his own.

Rafe opened the door to your shared room, his movements steady as he guided you into the closet. “Here, you should get changed into something more comfortable,” he murmured, opening a drawer and pulling out one of his shirts—a soft, oversized one you often stole when you didn’t want to bother with your own clothes. He handed it to you, watching as your tired gaze shifted toward the shirt before flickering back to him.

“Can… can you help me take my dress off?” you muttered, barely audible, your voice tinged with exhaustion and the alcohol that still clouded your thoughts. You gave him those wide, pleading doe eyes that always managed to catch him off guard. Rafe inhaled sharply but quickly nodded. He’d seen you like this before—unguarded, your skin bare, but it never failed to stir something in him.

It wasn’t the sight of your skin that unsettled him; he was used to that. Over time, in this strange forced marriage, he’d grown accustomed to the intimacy of shared space, of your body in close proximity. It was the trust you displayed, the way you asked for his help now, that threw him off balance. You turned around, shifting your hair to one side, exposing the zipper of your dress.

Rafe reached for it, fingers grazing your back as he slowly pulled the zipper down, the fabric sliding easily off your shoulders. His eyes briefly flickered to the dress, a slight frown on his face—it was shorter than he liked, something he wasn’t thrilled about you wearing out. But now, as you stepped out of it, all he could think about was how fragile you looked.

You grabbed the shirt from his hands and pulled it over your head, the soft cotton falling past your thighs as you kicked off your heels with a relieved sigh. Rafe watched you for a moment longer before quietly guiding you toward the bathroom. He rummaged through the drawer, pulling out your toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste onto it before handing it to you. You brushed your teeth lazily, your movements growing slower as your eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling in.

Rafe stood by, waiting until you were done before helping you back to the bed. Just as your body sank into the soft sheets, ready to drift off into sleep, he lightly patted your cheek, keeping you from completely fading. "Uh-uh, gotta get that makeup off, or you'll throw a fit tomorrow morning," Rafe teased, reaching for the wipes on your vanity. You groaned in protest, your voice muffled against the pillow. “I won’t.”

“Yes, you will,” Rafe retorted, walking back over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He began gently wiping the makeup from your face, his touch careful and methodical. He had done this before, knew the routine, and though the task was mundane, there was an unspoken closeness in these moments that neither of you ever acknowledged.

He returned to the bed, sitting beside you as he carefully wiped away the layers of makeup. His touch was gentle, more considerate than you expected, his brow furrowed in concentration as he made sure to remove every trace. You gazed up at him through heavy lids, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin and the softness of his gestures.

When he was done, he moved to pull away, but your fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him. Rafe looked at you, confusion briefly crossing his face, but the intensity in your gaze softened him. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice tender, vulnerable in a way it rarely was. Your eyes drifted to his lips, your heart picking up speed as the moment stretched between you.

Rafe swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he nodded, his voice hushed. “Of course.” Without another word, you gently pulled him closer, closing the space between you. Your lips met his in a slow, tentative kiss—an action that felt more like a quiet confession than anything else. Rafe stiffened at first, but then his lips moved against yours, soft yet firm, as though the weight of the night had brought you both to this point.

But he pulled back after a moment, his eyes searching yours for something he wasn’t even sure of. “Get some sleep,” he whispered, pulling the sheets up to tuck you in. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual before he stood, leaving the room without another glance.

—

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains as you slowly lifted your head from the pillow, a dull throb of pain radiating through your temples. You winced, squinting against the brightness as the events of the previous night came flooding back—Charlotte, the drinks, Rafe helping you to bed, and… the kiss.

You stirred slightly, feeling the sheets move beside you. Glancing over, you saw Rafe’s sleeping form, his features relaxed. He lay facing you, still half-asleep, though he must have sensed your movement because he mumbled groggily, “On your bedside table.”

You turned, spotting the glass of water and the medicine waiting for you. A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pounding in your head. Even when his words were rough, his actions showed a softness you were beginning to see more often.

You reached for the water and pills, the gesture not lost on you. As you downed the water, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, wondering if, beneath all the tension and complications between you, something deeper had started to bloom.

[enha-stars]

✧ happy mother’s day, mamas (18+)

Pairing: Husband!Heeseung x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: It’s mother’s day and your husband and daughter bring you breakfast in bed. They each have different ways of showing you how much they love you, their mama.

Warnings: Kissing, Mentions of Pregnancy, SMUT, minor food play, fingering, unprotected sex (don't), pregnancy kink, religious imagery, down bad heeseung, oral (f rec), degrading & praising

A/n: I wanted to post this for mother's day. but oh well. Also, this was supposed to be a drabble i have no idea how it got to be 5k.

As the warm rays of the morning sun slipped through the parted curtains, painting the room in a soft golden glow, you stirred beneath the warm blanket. Your eyelids fluttered open, welcoming the gentle warmth that accompanied the sun’s gentle ascent into the sky. 

The room was still and quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds greeting the morning. With a contented sigh, you stretched out your limbs, yawning as the crisp sheets cradled your pregnant body. As gently as you could, you turned onto your back, reaching out to the space beside you. 

You frowned when you were met with more mattress, your husband’s warm body long gone. Grunting, you slowly sit up. One hand beside you while the other wrapped around your belly, wanting to make sure that the fetus inside didn’t feel any jerk movements. 

Back propped up against the headboard, you close your eyes as a gentle smile plays on your lips. Now that you were sitting up, you could clearly smell the wafting aroma of waffles and chicken bacon. You eye the empty space beside you and pat the cold mattress. 

You didn’t even feel Heeseung slide out of bed. Usually, you’re very in tune to him while you’re sleeping and he’s even more in harmony with you. 

Before you could dwell on how much effort it probably took him to unwrap his arms from your body and tiptoe out of the bedroom, a loud crash outside your bedroom jolts you upright. You grip the blanket as your foot twitches, subconsciously ready to approach the mess. 

You hear quiet giggles and your husband’s voice softly whispering, “It’s okay, sweetness. I’ll clean it up later.”

As the door quietly clicks open, your smile widens at the sounds of your daughter’s little huffs and your husband's noises of encouragement. You watch with wide eyes as your daughter waddles into your bedroom in her pink basketball pajamas, holding a glass of mango juice. 

Heeseung follows brightly behind her, holding a tray filled to the brim with food. His eyes travel from his daughter’s little form to you, laying in bed. He makes eye contact with your shiny, sleep-filled eyes and he watches as you visibly soften. 

His grin turns into a full blown smile as he nears closer. You look so beautiful, sitting there with your hair a bit unruly and unkempt. Your night gown is wrinkled and one of your hands is laid flat on your belly. You smile brightly at him as your eyes soak in the scene before you. 

Heeseung stands tall in his blue basketball pajama shorts that match your daughter’s. They hang lowly on his hips and his lean chest is exposed, making your cheeks warm at the sight. Your eyes travel downwards and your smile turns emotional as you watch your daughter trying to balance the glass in her hand. 

“Hi, mama,” your little girl whispers. You almost can’t control the emotions swirling in your eyes at the sight of her shiny eyes and full cheeks. She looks so much like your husband and you’re thankful for it everyday. 

“You don’t have to whisper, flower. Mama’s awake.” Heeseung grins at his little girl, finding her absolutely adorable. Dahlia was only five, so she couldn’t really see you as she stood at the foot of your bed. 

“Hi, flower,” you greet her, softly. At your voice, she giggles and walks to your side of the bed. She smiles brightly at you, her front tooth missing. You coo at her as you set the glass of mango juice on the side table and pull her up. 

“Careful, baby,” Heeseung frowns. He watches carefully as you pull your daughter into your lap, making sure you don't exert yourself. He balances the tray with one hand and grabs the foldable table before walking to your side of the bed. 

In your arms, your daughter immediately melts. Her little arms wrap around your chest and she presses her face into your shoulder. You kiss the top of her head as you rub her back. 

Ever since you found out that you were pregnant, almost five months ago, Heeseung had been encouraging Dahlia to sleep in her own bedroom. It was going really well for the most part, but some nights were harder than others. 

“Missed you, mama.” Her quiet voice mumbles against your skin. You pout at her before nuzzling your nose into her hair. “I missed you too, flower.” 

“Dahlia, sweetness, will you help me set up the table for mama?” Heeseung’s voice pulls your daughter out of your arms as she immediately nods and slides off your lap. You and Heeseung watch fondly as she quickly pulls the table legs out and sets the table over your thighs, mindful of your big belly. 

You shuffle a bit on the mattress and fix the blanket before you nod at Heeseung. He sets the tray of food on the table and steps back. He watches your reaction carefully, nervously biting his bottom lip. His eyes fall on his daughter and he bites back a smirk as she mirrors his exact expression. 

You stare at the tray in disbelief. On it, was a plate of three waffles, a smaller plate with chicken bacon strips, and a bowl of fruit. A singular pink dahlia rests in a thin vase and you pick it, bringing it to your nose. 

Heeseung watches you with a stupid smile as you sniff the flower. The dahlia was an important flower to both of you. It was the first flower he had ever picked and given to you, leading to your daughter. He, without fail, always gave you one on special occasions. 

A reminder of the incident that brought you both together. It was a reminder of the softer things in life, of your shared love. 

You set the flower back in the vase and look up at Heeseung, eyes teary as emotion renders you speechless. Your daughter sits beside you, eyes wide in anticipation. She has been incredibly excited for Mother’s Day, eating Heeseung’s ear off with different ideas. 

“I think she likes it, Dahlia,” Heeseung whispers to his daughter. He sits on the edge of the mattress, as close as he can to you. He rests a hand on the other side of your legs and stares softly at you, waiting for the rush of emotion to subside. 

“Really?” Dahlia asks, a little disappointed. “Why is Mama not saying anything?” 

You let out a breathy laugh and Heeseung is so entranced by it he almost forgets to answer his little girl. “Give her a second, flower.” He turns his head to Dahlia and smiles at her focused expression. She looks a lot like you when she is focused, or scheming. “Remember what I said about patience?” 

Dahlia sighs and solemnly nods. You laugh at her fallen expression and inch closer, curious. Heeseung was always murmuring little reminders to your daughter whenever he could. “What did papa say about patience, little flower?” 

Dahlia sits back and purses her little lips before glancing at Heeseung who stares at her with a raised eyebrow. She smiles at you sheepishly before shuffling closer to you. “Papa said I have to be more pat… patient,” she stutters. “Cuz the baby is coming.” 

You glance at Heeseung and he simply shrugs at you. You smile at her and pat the empty space next to you. She drags herself closer to you, resting her head on your arm. “Thank you for being patient for mama, Dahlia.” 

Instead of responding, she tucks her face into your side and Heeseung laughs at her shyness. With him, she was always slightly hyper. But with you, she was incredibly soft. He couldn’t blame her, of course. You were the light of their lives. 

“Thank you for breakfast, my loves.” You’re staring at Heeseung and he inches closer. He leans forward and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes in contentment and only open them when you feel your cheeks being squished. 

You open your eyes to your daughter’s hands on either side of your face and before you can say anything, she kisses you hard on the lips. You stare at her in surprise and Heeseung’s jaw falls to the floor. 

“Happy mother’s day, mama.” She pulls at your cheeks, pinching them. “I love you.” 

You try your best to smile at her given the circumstances and she giggles at your expression. She sits back beside you and Heeseung clears his throat. You see the turmoil in his eyes and pop a blueberry in your mouth. 

“Dahlia,” Heeseung says. Your daughter looks up at him curiously. “You can’t kiss mama on the lips.” 

You snort at his seriousness and immediately bite back your grin when he throws you a look. You say nothing as you gently pat your stomach and pick up a piece of bacon, taking a large bite. 

Dahlia frowns and tilts her head in the same endearing way that Heeseung does. “Why not? You kiss mama on the lips.” 

Heeseung’s frown deepens. “Yes, but I am her husband. You’re her daughter.” 

“So?” 

Heeseung blanks. She looks so much like you as she stares at him with narrowed eyes. He almost questions his entire argument when her eyes twinkle. He loves her so much. 

“So… don’t kiss her on the lips.” 

You want to laugh at his weak argument but he shoves a piece of banana into your mouth before you can. 

“Where can I kiss mama then?” 

Before Heeseung can answer, you softly grab Dahlia’s chin and turn her head towards you, afraid that your husband will start something he won’t be able to finish. As her eyes meet yours, they immediately soften and her defiance melts away. Heeseung scoffs under his breath. 

“You can kiss me anywhere except my lips. Okay, pretty flower?” 

Dahlia doesn’t even argue as she nods, accepting your words without a hitch. Heeseung laughs in disbelief as you cut a small piece of a waffle and bring it to Dahlia’s lips. She swallows eagerly and you ruffle her hair. 

You three sit in comfortable silence for a bit as you eat the food that your husband and daughter have made, feeding them as well. After a few bites, Heeseung shakes his head and simply watches as you and Dahlia eat. Syrup spills down your lips and he wipes it away with his thumb, staring darkly at you as he sucks on his finger.

He rests his hand on your belly and smiles when he feels the baby kick. He shifts closer, his heart swelling in content. 

“He’s kicking pretty early in the morning,” you say, pulling Heeseung out of his daze. 

Heeseung nods and begins rubbing your belly. You watch him, enamored. Ever since your first pregnancy, Heeseung had a habit of just touching you. His hand was always on your stomach or he was rubbing your back. 

“Can I go watch Cocomelon?” 

Heeseung blinks at Dahlia and he knows you’re about to refuse, but he wants to have you to himself. You look so beautiful, so enticing, and he wants to show his appreciation for you in another way. 

He usually can’t help himself around you, but when you’re pregnant, he loses all control. You look so ethereal as you glow, your body filling out to support another life. He was obsessed with how your belly swelled, carrying his child. 

You were already bewitching to him, but now you were divine. If anyone asked him who he prayed to, he would say your name with such care, such grace. You were making him a father again, who else could he thank besides you? 

“Sure, sweetness.” He says. “Go ahead.” 

Dahlia kisses your arm and then kisses your stomach before she kisses Heeseung’s nose. You both watch her quietly as she slides off the bed and waddles out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

You swallow and stare up at Heeseung, smiling softly at him. He moves the tray of food on the other side of you and shifts closer. His arms are on either side of you and he stares down at you like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. 

“Good morning, baby.” 

You laugh and lean back into the headboard. “Morning, Seung.” You lift your hand and cup his cheek, smiling softly when he leans into your touch. 

“How are you this fine morning, beautiful?” 

There’s a glint in his eyes but you can see the curiosity swimming in them as well. He wants to make sure you’re okay. That you aren’t uncomfortable, that the baby hasn’t been bothering you. He’s always thinking about you. Well, you, the baby boy you’re carrying, and his baby girl. 

“I’m doing amazing,” you tell him, honestly. “Seriously. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“This is nothing,” he tells you. “You should have heard some of Dahlia’s ideas. She’s just as imaginative as you.” You grin at his teasing but then his eyes soften and he laces your hands together. “You know I’d give you the world, mamas.” 

You squeeze his hand three times, unable to respond. When Dahlia was born, Heeseung began calling you ‘mama’ so she would pick it up. Whenever he said it around her, it warmed your heart.

When he said it like this, all low and enticingly, it made your insides flip inside out. It was different, because when he said it like this, it was like he wanted to make you a mama, again. 

“I know,” you whisper. You bring his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles.

Heeseung wants to do unspeakable things to you but he glances at the plate and realizes you haven’t eaten enough. He leans forward and presses his lips softly against yours, humming at the sweetness of the syrup and the savoury flavour of the bacon on your lips. 

He pulls away too soon and pulls the tray closer to you. He leans back and you watch as he cuts a piece of waffle and bacon, making a proper bite before lifting it to your lips. You blink at him and he parts his lips. “Say ah, baby.” 

You roll your eyes but let him feed you anyways. Heeseung smiles at you when you chew slowly, glad that your nausea hasn’t been acting up. He was a bit anxious about it but Dahlia had been very insistent and he was a weak man. 

Heeseung makes another bite for you and like the obedient little wife you are, you open your mouth. A bit of syrup spills from the waffle and drips down your collarbones. Before you could even think of wiping it, Heeseung leans down and licks it off your skin. 

You shiver when his tongue makes contact with your cool skin. He licks the sticky syrup from your body and then presses open mouth kisses to your collarbones. You sigh, eyes shutting, as Heeseung licks and sucks your skin. 

His kisses travel up your neck, nibbling and biting. He presses a wet kiss to your jaw and pulls away, eyes ablaze. You’re slightly panting as you squeeze your thighs shut. Heeseung tilts his head and brushes his nose against yours. Your hands are on his shoulders, running up and down his bare chest.

“Seung, aren’t you hungry?” You’re slightly out of breath, and his closeness isn’t helping. You can’t help but feel a little guilty. He woke up early to make you breakfast and he has yet to eat anything.

Heeseung shakes his head and his lips curve upwards into a menacing smirk. “I just want you.” 

You hear the double meaning in his voice, you can feel it against your skin with the way he was looking at you. He made you feel beautiful, like the stretching of your skin and swollen feet meant nothing to him.

“You have me.” 

Heeseung’s lips hover above your own. “Any way I want?” 

You tilt your chin upwards and press your lips against his in a short kiss. “However you want.” 

Grinning, Heeseung pushes himself back and stands up. You blink at his sudden movements and watch as he lifts the tray and table. He folds the table and sets it against the wall and then makes his way to the door. 

He turns back to you and grins at you in a way that reminds you of high school and janitor closets. “I hope you’re ready, baby.” You watch him leave your bedroom with heated eyes, instantly shifting further on the bed. 

Heeseung walks down the hallway and into the kitchen. He sets the tray down on the counter and fills a pink sippy cup with water. Twisting the lit on, he quietly walks into the family room, eyes falling on his daughter laying on her stomach on the couch. 

“Dahlia, flower, you shouldn’t lay on your stomach.” At her father’s voice, Dahlia instantly sits up and smiles brightly at him. She sits properly and pats the seat next to her. 

“Papa, sit with me.” 

Heeseung’s eyes soften and he feels a little guilty, but his wife is waiting patiently for him in bed so he doesn’t dwell on the guilt for too long. He kisses Dahlia on the head and hands her the cup. Instantly, she brings the chewed straw to her lips. 

“Sorry, sweetness. Mama isn’t feeling too well so I’m gonna lay with her for a bit, okay?” Heeseung winces as Dahlia’s eyes widen in concern and before she could bolt down the hall, he pinches her cheek. “She ate too much and now she wants to nap. You know she has to nap, right?”

Dahlia nods, water dripping from her chin. “Cuz of the baby, right?”

Heesueng nods, a surge of love making his heart swell. “Exactly. And you’re not a baby anymore, right?” 

Instantly, Dahlia shakes her head, almost looking offended at such accusations. “No! I’m a big girl.” 

Heeseung scoops her up and laughs when she giggles, fauxing thrashing her arms. He nuzzles his nose into her stomach, heart content as she laughs loudly. “You are a big girl now, flower. Which means you’ll knock and only enter when we give permission, right?” 

Still laughing, Dahlia nods aggressively. Confident in himself and her, he kisses her entire face before setting her back down on the couch. As the next Cocomelon song plays, Dahlia loses interest in her father. 

Heeseung stares down at her for a few seconds before slipping away. He doesn’t know how he got here. He’s not sure who he saved in his past life, but he’s grateful for it. He never would have thought that he’d be this happy and content, but he’s immensely thankful. 

He quietly twists the door open and slips into the bedroom, locking the door. At the sound, you look up from your phone, instantly setting it down. Heeseung leans against the door, staring at you. You look so heavenly, laying there just waiting to be ravished by him.

You feel small under his eyes and given the circumstances, it’s ironic. He stands there in nothing but blue shorts and yet, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His hair is all tousled and he looks delicious. 

Slowly, Heeseung walks towards you. His eyes are dark with something familiar and you can feel the heat of his gaze affect you. You watch with shallow breaths as he reaches the foot of your shared bed. He falls onto the mattress and crawls to you, tongue sliding across his bottom lip. 

When he reaches you, he slots his leg between yours and settles his arms on either side of you. His breathing is almost as erratic as yours and you waste no time as you pull him into a heated kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. 

Your lips pressed against his as you kissed him roughly, tired of the soft and safe kisses you both had shared the entire morning. Heeseung tilts his head and further deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Tongues, teeth, and lips crash together in perfect harmony. 

Heeseung’s knee rubs against your bare core as he presses himself further into you. Your hands travel up and down his back before you run a hand through his hair, pulling the long strands unconsciously. 

Heeseung moans into the kiss and you swallow it, tracing his bottom lip with your tongue. He kisses you roughly before pulling away, immediately kissing down your jaw to your neck. His teeth graze your skin as he nibbles and sucks, and your head falls back, giving him more access. 

With perfected practice, he kisses down your body. He shifts himself slightly back as he kisses down your clothed breasts, sucking and biting through the flimsy material. You whimper when his tongue pokes and prods your sensitive nipples. He quickly unbuttons your gown and kisses your exposed breasts, tongue swirling against your hardened nipples.

He kisses down your stomach, gentle as continues to unbutton your gown. He covers your entire covered belly with kisses and soft praises. He continues downward and unbuttons the last few buttons, leaving you bare and exposed to him. “So fucking pretty,” he mumbles. 

You look so beautiful like this he almost can’t take it. Instead, he kisses down your stomach until he’s reached your pussy. He lays on his stomach and looks up at you. You can only see him because you’re propped up on the headboard, but the sight of your husband between your legs isn't one you want to ever miss. 

Gently, Heeseung lifts each of your legs and places them a bit farther, forcing you to open yourself for him. He leans in and presses his nose against your cunt. Your hips jerk upwards at the feeling of him nosing your clit but he holds them down. 

“So wet, baby,” he mumbles. He rubs his nose further into you, making you moan at the feeling. “Such a naughty girl,” he grins as he brings his hand to your pussy, rubbing your arousal all over your clit. You can barely breathe at the feeling of his nose and fingers. “Getting so wet while your baby girl is down the hall.” You whimper when he kisses your clit. “My dirty mama.” 

Before you could say anything, he starts to plant wet, open-mouthed kisses along your thigh, alternating between nibbling and sucking on the tender flesh before tracing a wet path down your thigh to your dripping center. Your fingers weave into his hair as he eagerly explores you.

A moan escapes Heeseung's lips as he delves his tongue inside. Your body arches in response, teeth sinking into your lip to stifle the nearly escaping cry. His nose nudges against your swollen folds while his tongue expertly works its magic within you. A low hum reverberates through him as he licks and laps, sending delicious shivers down your spine.

Heeseung groans when you tug on his hair, his name slipping quietly from your lips in hurried breaths. The taste of you is perfect, and he can't seem to get enough. Sucking on your sensitive clit, he presses his nose deep within you, grinning against your cunt when you let out a loud cry. 

“Heeseung,” you breathe. Your hands grip his hair tightly and when you pull, pushing him further into your pussy, he groans and the sound makes your legs shake. 

As he fucked his tongue into you, sucking and slurping, he coated three of his fingers in your slick before plunging them in. You try your best to stifle your cry as your cunt sucks his fingers in. Your nerves are on fire and your mind is hazy with pleasure. 

Heeseung matches the pace of his tongue with his fingers and he releases a quiet whimper when you try to close your legs, slightly suffocating him. With his other hand, he pushes at your thigh, gripping tightly. 

“Fuck, fuck, Seung– fuck.” You’re panting, sweaty as pleasure overwhelms you. “I’m gonna cum–” 

Heeseung doesn’t need the warning because he knows. He can feel it in the way you’re sucking him in, the way your legs are shaking as your slick gushes out of you and into his mouth. Pregnancy changed the way you tasted and he loved it, enough to claim being an addict. 

The building of pleasure snapped inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and fucked his fingers into you. You sobbed out his name, clenching your eyes shut as your nerves lit on fire and your vision went white. 

The bottom half of his face was shiny with your cum and slick as he continued to lick at you, his tongue working its way from your entrance all the way to your clit. He never wanted your orgasm to end. 

You bit into your hand to muffle another scream as Heeseung kept pushing his fingers inside you, pushing your cum back into your sopping hole. Your knees weakened as he kept lapping all your juices. You could feel your core tighten again until another release washed through you, making you moan and whimper louder. 

Heeseung licked you clean, swallowing the second orgasm swifter than the first. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and pushed his tongue in, lapping up everything your cunt had to offer. 

You breathed heavily as you tried to regain any sense of control back into your legs. Slowly, Heeseung sat up and licked his fingers clean, staring at you fervently as he did. Your pussy throbbed at the sight and loss of him, and you quietly whimpered out his name. 

“You did so good for me, mama.” He crawled towards you and kissed you, tongue brushing against yours, letting you taste yourself. You hummed into his mouth and he swallowed it, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing. 

He pulled away and looked down at you. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and he kissed your eyelids. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, hidden deep within the arousal and he made a decision. 

Heeseung fell on the bed beside you, panting. You slightly turned towards him and he looked at you lovingly, a dazed smile on his lips. You both laid side-by-side. “How are you feeling, baby?” 

You snickered, a bit out of it still. “Like I’ve just cummed twice.” 

Heeseung grins at you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “Are you okay to keep going?” 

You blink at him. “I’m pregnant, Seung. Not terminally ill.” At his unimpressed look, you snort. “Yes, I’m okay.” Heeseung continues to stare at you and you sigh, admitting defeat. “Fine. I’m a little tired.” 

Heeseung nods in understanding and gestures for you to sit up and you do. He takes your pillow and fluffs it before motioning you to lay down. You follow his instructions and sigh in relief as the pressure is off your back. 

You blink up at your husband. “Do me a favour and listen to me blindly for the next two minutes.” Instantly, Heeseung nods as he lays beside you, sweaty and beautiful. You eye his bulge and lick your lips. 

You turn so your back faces Heeseung and he watches and waits patiently. Once you’re comfortable on your side, you slightly turn your head. “Lay on your side, Seungie. Close to me,” you say. 

Heeseung does exactly that. He fluffs his pillow before laying on his side, arm immediately around your waist as his chest presses into your back. You smile at him and he nuzzles his face into your neck. 

“What now, baby?” 

“Now you fuck me silly.” 

Heeseung grins at your words as he nips at your neck. “You’re sure, Y/n?” 

You nod. “Yes. Please, Seung. I need you in me.” 

Heeseung presses an open mouthed kiss to the crevice of your shoulder and he pulls his throbbing cock out of his shorts. He lifts one of your legs and sets it on his own, rubbing his dick against your cunt, coating it in your slick. You hold your breath as he pushes the head slowly inside, moaning out his name as your pussy sucks him in.

You were a bit tighter than usual during pregnancy and it drove Heeseung fucking insane. He squeezes one of your breasts, playing with your nipple as he pushes his cock slowly inside you, bottoming out. 

You moan at the stretch and fullness you feel, arching your back a bit so your ass presses flush against his hips. Heeseung begins slowly rocking his hips against you, sliding his dick in and out of you at the most delicious pace. “That’s it, mamas. Suck me in, just like that.”

“Hee,” you whimpered. 

Heeseung continued to fuck you slowly, one of his hands holding your leg and the other plates with your breasts before travelling down your body and circling your clit. His pace increased and his fingers quickened. Before you could cry out, he shoved the same fingers into your mouth, making you gag on them. 

“Quiet, baby.” His voice sent chills down your spine. “Dahlia is right outside. You don’t want her to know how dirty mama truly is, do you?” At his words, your walls fluttered around his cock and he hissed. “You like that? Huh, baby?” He fucked you harder as your tongue swirled around his fingers. 

His cock twitched and he could feel that you were close. “Cum for me, mamas. Cum all over my cock like the dirty girl you are.” 

Your cries echoed through the room as you climaxed, your cum coating his cock as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure. Your body convulsed uncontrollably, your inner walls gripping him with a fierce intensity. Heeseung's own moans mingled with yours as he bit down on your neck, releasing himself within you.

He emptied himself into you, the sound of his release mixing with your own juices, creating a symphony of ecstasy. With each thrust, he filled you completely, his gaze transfixed on the mesmerizing sight of his cock disappearing into your warmth. 

Amidst your incoherent babbling, Heeseung continued to pump into you, utterly lost in the depths of your being. His movements were relentless, driven by a primal urge he couldn't deny. Tears streamed down your cheeks, a mixture of overstimulation and raw emotion overwhelming your senses.

As the final drops of his cum dripped into your core, he gradually slowed his pace, pressing tender kisses to your neck and shoulders. Ever so gently, Heeseung moves to pull out of you but your hand on his waist stops you. Pushing himself further into you, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you flush against his back. 

You both pant heavily, trying to regain your composure. It doesn’t help that he’s still inside you, but you can’t stomach the loss of him either. You feel so complete when his cock is buried in you and even though your vision is blurry, you love it. 

Heeseung presses a gentle kiss to your neck. “You alright, baby?”

You close your eyes. “Mhm. I love you.” 

Heeseung laughs and buries his face in your hair. “I love you too, Y/n.” He smiles against your skin. “I’m going to get a bath started for you.” Your nails dig deeper into his skin and he grins. 

“In a bit,” you mumble. Your eyes are drooping and you know that you should probably check on your daughter soon, but everything inside you is pulling you to sleep. 

Heeseung can tell you’re falling asleep. The tightness in your shoulders has melted and your breathing is slightly shallow and even. He holds you tightly as you succumb to the darkness. He waits a bit, until you’re snoring, to quietly pull out of you. 

He bites his bottom lip to suppress his hisses as your warm cunt practically sucks him in but he refrains. He fixes his shorts and slides out of bed, grabbing a fresh wash cloth to wipe you down. He cleans you as best as he can and buttons your nightgown. 

He sits at the edge of the bed and stares down at your soft sleeping face. You look so content and freshly fucked, it’s one of his favourite looks on you. “Happy mother’s day, mamas.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and goes to the bathroom to clean himself. 

Then, once he’s clean, he walks out of the bedroom and into the family room. His eyes zone in on Daliah’s sleeping body and he coos, scooping her into his arms. He brings his baby girl into the master bedroom and decides that a nap in their bed wouldn’t hurt. 

He slides back into bed and lays Daliah on his chest. One of his arms wraps protectively around her sleeping body and she tucks her little face into his neck. Naturally, seeking his warmth, you turn in your sleep. 

With his wife on one side and his daughter on his chest, he lays a hand on her pregnant belly.

This is all he’s ever wanted. A little, loving family. 

[star-byeoli]

Love Drunk - San Oneshot

[Minors Do Not Interact] - [18+]

Genre: Established relationship, fluff, a bit suggestive but no smut.

Pairing: Sober bf!San x Drunk gf!reader (No y/n)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption mentioned, drunkeness, brief nudity but not described, San is a helicopter boyfriend.

A/N: Inspired by that live where San said he'd never let his wife lift a finger... yeah...

“Hello, Ladies. Need a ride?” San winks at you and your friends from his car window. You essentially cackle in response, unable to control your volume. You’d been out with a few girlfriends, celebrating one of their promotions. Your boyfriend, San, being the sweetheart that he is had offered to drive everyone home once you were done. Although by the state of you and your friends drunkenly laughing, shouting and tripping over each other, he was starting to have second thoughts.

“Hi baby!” You shout, stumbling towards him. He quickly got out of the car, catching you before you ended up on the pavement. He can’t help himself but to laugh at how cute you were, throwing yourself into his arms and looking up at him with wide, loving eyes. “Did you miss me, Sannie?”

“Of course, I always miss you.” He places a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose, causing you to snort with laughter. Seeing just how far gone you are, he decides to take immediate action and opens the car door. “Get in, ladies. You all look like you need a good night’s sleep.”

You and your friends all clamber in, still shouting and giggling when San pulls away. He takes his time to drop you friends off home one by one, waiting to watch them get inside safely. Eventually it’s just you and him left in the front seats.

“Tell me the truth, love, how much did you drink tonight?” He asks somewhat sternly, although you know he’s just trying to take care of you. You take a moment to attempt to consider exactly how much you had drunk, but give up pretty easily. The fatigue is finally setting in.

“I dunno Sannie. I did have this cool cocktail, though! It was purple and glittery.”

“Sounds good, love. Now, when we get home, we’re going to drink some water, eat a snack, wash up and go to bed, yeah?” San’s gentle parenting approach to taking care of you when you’re like this always makes your heart flutter. Unable to control your joy, you swivel slightly in your seat to be able to stare at his side profile. He’s focused on the road, but the gentle frown on his face makes you swoon.

“Okay Sannie.” You giggle, mainly to yourself, as he sends you a sideways glance. You notice his fingers tapping against the steering wheel, the silver bracelet you gave him for his birthday glinting under the streetlight. Endeared, and tired, you begin to drift off to sleep.

“My love?” You jolt awake to San stood at the car door, patting your leg softly. Realising you’ve arrived home, you whine and stretch out as San reaches over to undo your seatbelt and grab your handbag. He takes your hand and helps you to stand up. When you stumble a little, he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you upright. Whilst concerned, he still smiles warmly at your cute drunken state. “Oh, baby. You’re a mess, aren’t you?”

“M'sorry Sannie. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re okay, love. Just let me take care of you, yeah?” He guides you inside, slowly as to keep you on your feet. Closing the front door behind you, he wastes no time in kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. Wobbling slightly, you lean your hands onto his broad shoulders. Once he puts your shoes aside, he stands back up to his full height, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and press a sloppy kiss onto his lips. He chuckles into it, before gently cupping your cheeks to push you back, knowing you’re too far gone to know your limits. “That’s enough, baby. Let’s get ready for bed.”

He pats you softly on the butt, and you know it’s a warning that he’s going to pick you up. He scoops you up under your thighs, allowing you to wrap your legs around him too. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you down onto the counter. After giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, he reaches into the fridge to hand you a cold bottle of water.

“Drink that, baby. I’ll make you some toast to soak up all that booze.” You laugh faintly, but are ultimately more consumed with trying to open the water bottle. Leaning your head back against the cabinet, you watch San skirt around the kitchen to make your toast, taking occasional sips of water as per his instructions. You’d learned before that it’s best to obey him when he’s in caretaker mode, mainly to avoid the silent treatment the next day. As much as he loves physical touch, his main love language has always been acts of service. He loves taking care of you, drunk or sober, and he doesn’t take kindly to you ignoring his efforts.

He turns back to you briefly, mouth open like he’s about to say something when he freezes, eyes fixing on your lower half. Confused you follow his gaze downwards, to see that the skirt of your dress had flipped up, exposing your underwear. Instantly, you fall into fits of giggles, while San stalks over, shaking his head. He yanks it down firmly, before cupping your rosy cheeks once again. His intense eye contact silences you instantaneously.

“What am I going to do with you?” He murmurs, before breaking into a smirk. Another kiss to the forehead and he’s back to work. After a few more moments, he’s turning to you plate in hand. He doesn’t even offer it to you, just lifts the toast to your mouth and stands there expecting you to eat. With another light giggle, you accept, taking a messy bite with a smile. San grins back warmly at you, pushing your hair behind your ear. You chew lazily while he hovers around you, silent except your occasional bites. When you’re done eating, San just puts the plate in the sink – he can do the dishes tomorrow when you inevitably sleep in.

Noticing you falling asleep again, San gives you another pat to the leg before lifting you off the counter. He moves slower this time, knowing you’re close to being completely gone. When he drops you down onto the bathroom’s toilet seat, you can barely keep your head up.

“Just need to wash up a little and then I’ll put you to bed, okay?” San half-whispers. You nod weakly in response, yawning deeply and closing your eyes. You hear him rustling for a second, but are almost completely lulled back to sleep. When San presses a wet cotton pad to your cheek, you flinch and whine. He coos at you, wiping away your makeup gently. “Stay still, love.”

“It’s cold, Sannie.” You weakly grab onto his wrist, but it has no effect on his diligent efforts.

“You’ll live. Anyway, won’t you be mad in the morning if you don’t take your makeup off?” You groan, knowing he’s completely right. After a few more moments, he finally pulls away. You go to stand up, but he stops you with a hand on the shoulder. “You need to brush your teeth too.”

He hands you the brush, toothpaste already spread. You get started straightaway, watching San walk out of the bathroom silently. After just 10 minutes at home, you already feel a lot fresher, even if you’re still dead tired. Taking initiative, you finally walk on your own to the sink. San still hasn’t reappeared after a few minutes, so you spit and rinse quickly with the anticipation of making the journey to your bedroom to find him. When you lift your head up, however, he’s already silently standing behind you, catching your eye in the mirror. When you jump slightly, he quickly tries to put you at ease with arms wrapping around your waist.

“I got you some pyjamas.” By pyjamas, he means a pair of loose shorts and one of his t-shirts. Resting your head back on his shoulder, you allow him to remove your dress and underwear, replacing them with his comfies. It’s a bit of a wrestle as your need for his physical touch doesn’t allow him to move easily, but he manages eventually. He throws your clothes into the laundry basket before turning you to face him. “If you need to pee, go now.”

“I’m fine, just want to go to bed.” With that, San lifts you up a final time, taking you to the bedroom. He’d already pulled back the duvet, and placed another bottle of water on your bedside table. He really thinks of every detail. Your head meets your pillow finally, and you instantly yawn again. But when San walks away, you whine at his absence.

“Give me a minute, my love. I need to get changed too.” With that, San disappears back to the bathroom. You lie for a few minutes, tossing and turning. Eventually he returns, looking fresher himself. When you whip the duvet back for him, grinning softly up at him, he can’t help himself but to dive into your bed and pull you into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Sannie.” He hums, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you properly.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’m just doing my job as your boyfriend.” You chuff at his sudden seriousness. He really means what he says.

“I know. You’re just so good. The best thing that ever happened to me.” You manage to stroke his cheek with your finger, although your energy is failing you. San can’t help himself but to press a firm kiss to your lips, pleased that he had fulfilled his self-appointed role.

“Okay, sappy. Go to sleep now.”

“M’kay Sannie. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” He nuzzles his cheek to the top of your head, holding you tight in his arms. Despite the fuzziness of the alcohol and fatigue, you feel grounded and safe in his embrace. For a few minutes that is. Then an uncomfortable feeling in your lower stomach sets in. Hoping San had already fallen asleep, you try to escape his grasp, only for him to tighten his hold.

“Where are you going?” San mutters, sleep tinging his voice.

“I need to pee.”

“Baby, I told yo- fine.” He starts to get out of bed, but you just frown at him.

“You don’t need to help me; I can go on my own.” He frowns back, but ultimately lets you go. “I’ll literally be ten seconds.”

“Promise?” He holds out his pinky finger. Taking it in your own with a giggle, you then start wobbling back to the bathroom. True to your word, you’re quick. But when you get back to the bedroom, you’re greeted by San sitting up straight against the headboard, arms folded. “I told you to go earlier, now the bed’s getting cold.”

“Go to sleep, Sannie.” You flop back down onto the mattress, bringing him down into another cuddle. He lightens up instantly and relaxes against you. Within moments you’re both asleep, tangled tightly with one another.

[frogbogus]

‎‧₊˚ ✧ LOVE AND DEEPSPACE SYLUS ✧‧₊˚

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You’re injured during a car shoot out and try your best to hide it from Sylus.

This is PART 2 to this post: SYLUS - please read part 1 before continuing.

a couple of people requested a part 2 so, of course, i happily obliged. i hope this post finds its way to them, and i hope it’s up to your expectations. <3

[ Based ONLY on the TRAILER to the Death and Rebirth main story update ]

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In the darkness of your mind you hear a deep, resonant hum rumbling, like a lullaby sung by the earth itself. You can’t help but be drawn towards the sound, something about it is alluring. Almost as if it’s guiding you, grasping you with its chords.

Your eyes open slowly, squinting as you take in the surroundings. Your hands twitch and you feel a soft plush blanket along your finger tips. The dark red interior was the first thing you noticed, how meticulously every decoration is placed, the way the moonlight shines through the large window to your right. Your eyes follow the moons rays across the room, to reveal a silhouette sat on a couch in the corner.

‘’I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to notice me.’’ Sylus states with a small, teasing smirk curling at the edge of his lips. Two red embers glow in the darkness of the room, and though they would have frightened others, they only pulled you closer—familiar, warm, and impossibly tender.

‘’Was that you humming?’’ Comes a mere whisper from your mouth, before he could respond you add, ‘’It sounded beautiful.’’ Sylus stands up then, with a grace only he could adorn, and walks towards you to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ His hand reaches up to your forehead, then to your cheek where it lingers for a moment before he pulls away. With him this close, you notice the faint pink tint to the top of his ears — Is he embarrassed?

‘’I feel… surprisingly good.’’ You state as you breathe a sigh of relief and go to lift yourself up to a sitting position, but his large hand grips your shoulders gently, ‘’Be careful, take it slow.’’ His eyebrows furrowing as he helps you sit upright.

‘’I’m really okay, Sylus… Thank you so much. How can I ever repay you?’’ You lock eyes with him, your eyes full of appreciation. ‘’Repay me?’’ He lets out a low chuckle, gentle and rich, like velvet brushing against your senses. ‘’You owe me nothing,’’ he says softly. ‘’Your heartbeat is my reward.’’

He grabs a glass of water and swiftly places the rim along your lower lip, ‘’Drink.’’ His red eyes bore into yours. You know you’re perfectly capable of just drinking it yourself but something in you halts, allowing you to just give into the temptation. Allowing him to fully take care of you, as he wanted to. His other hand slithers its way to the back of your head, tilting it upwards ever so slightly, allowing the water to flow freely into your mouth. You were so thirsty, surrendering yourself completely to the stream, letting it spill across your tongue and down your throat.

He pulls the glass away, placing it on the bedside table. You go to wipe your mouth but his thumb is already there wiping the water from your lip, the pad of his thumb ghosting over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. His touch was slow, deliberately slow. His gaze lingers on your lips for what feels like minutes, before finally snapping up to your eyes.

‘’Good,’’ Sylus breathed out, his thumb brushing just slightly along your lip as he said it. The word came out slow, controlled, like he was holding back far more than just words. A strained exhale escapes his mouth as he moves away, standing up, towering over you. ‘’If you need me…Don’t be afraid to call out my name.’’ With that he starts walking towards the door, his hand reaching for the handle, ‘’You’re leaving?’’ The words slip out of your mouth before you can think, the disappointment more evident than you hoped.

The pace in which he turned his head to look back to you is almost humorous, like he was secretly hoping you’d say exactly that. ‘’You want me to stay?’’ His words are careful, as if he doesn’t want to scare away a stray kitten. You nod faintly, feeling shy under his gaze.

He reaches his hand to his mouth pretending to be in deep thought, but really he’s just trying to hide the soft smile that has appeared in his face. He couldn’t help it. You were… undoubtedly Cute. ‘’Okay then,’’ He starts walking towards the bed once more, ‘’I hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep on that couch. It is very uncomfortable.’’

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, ‘’No - Of course not, this is your bed. Only makes sense for you to.. sleep in it.’’ You shimmy over slightly to make room for him and tap the mattress, a giggle about to escape your lips at how bizarre this situation is. You’re in Sylus’ bed. The leader of Onychinus. And now you’re about to be in his bed together.

He carefully peels back the cover and slides into the bed, right next to you. He’s laid still, one arm folded under his head as he stares off at the ever so interesting wall ahead of him. Sure, you’ll admit, there’s a slight awkwardness in the air, a weird innocence, nervousness. But it’s comfortable. You feel safe.

You go to lean on your side so you can face him, ready to start a conversation, but you wince out as you move your right shoulder. He reacts in an instant, facing you and warily hovering his hand over your injured arm. ‘’I told you.. To take it slow.’’ He states, his voice etched with concern. He begins to move slowly, and repositions his free arm under your head, becoming a makeshift pillow. Noticing your injured arm awkwardly laying against the side of your body, he takes a hold of it gently, ‘’Here, put your arm over my chest.’’

‘’Thank you…‘’ You sheepishly say as you allow yourself to mould against him. This feels nice. You tilt your head up to him, he’s already looking at you. His gaze softening. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness as he looks at you. ‘’Can you hum for me?’’ You blink up at him expectantly, you know it’s a silly request, but he truly sounded beautiful.

He sighs, opening his mouth, then closing it again. He was about to decline. But how can he? How can he ever resist you? He begins to hum under his breath, the deep timbre of his voice wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. A quiet song only you get to hear. The vibrations of his chest begins to lull you to sleep. Your eyes drooping and before you know it, you’re in a deep sleep.

Sylus’ eyes have also drifted closed as he continues his humming, the warmth of your body against him offering the most comfort he has ever experienced. He’s never felt so… human. He opens his eyes slightly, glancing down to your sleeping form. A faint smile on his face as he leans down to plant a kiss atop of your head. ‘’Goodnight.’’ He whispers to you, inhaling your scent as he does so and the worries fade away as he gives into the best sleep he’s ever had.

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thank you so much for reading. i love writing Sylus. i hope i captured his true essence. i have yet to proof read this; so if there’s any errors i apologise.