#Wrinkles In Need of Cuddles

[lay-z]

sleepy omega!reader x poly 141 just constantly wanting cuddles or just sliding into their beds in the middle of the night because the massive stuffed teddy in their nest isnt doing it for them-

Gosh dang it, I've become such a sucker for anything Omegaverse 🥹 Thank you for your request! I hope you'll like this blurb �� And I'm so sorry this took so long, omg!

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x omega!gn!Reader

Warnings/Info: military!Reader; packmates; alpha/omega dynamics; domesticity; hurt/comfort; fluff; teammates/friends to lovers

No matter how much you're tossing and turning while clinging to your favourite ginormous bear plushie (a gift from Price himself), your nest feels... off. It's not nearly as warm and cosy enough as you need it, and you don't understand why.

You haven't made any big changes, have you? You'd simply fluffed up all the blankets and pillows and plushies you own; the usual routine. Your nose wrinkles as you sit up inside your nest to sniff around in the dark. Okay, perhaps the scent of your pack mates isn’t quite there anymore—only barely lingering on your nesting materials, but that shouldn’t bother you as much as it does right now.

They’re right here, just across the hallway in their respective rooms or perhaps still lounging in the living room, quietly suffering with their episodic insomnia. So, knowing that they’re under the same roof with you should be enough, but it simply isn’t.

As you dig yourself out from under your pillow fortress, you immediately shiver as soon as the chilly winter breeze currently sweeping in through the cracked window hits your flushed body, because even in the deepest winter season, you cannot sleep with the window closed. And now clad, or rather drowning, in one of Simon’s hoodies and a pair of warm sweatpants, you’re still cold.

No, something isn’t quite right.

You feel too restless, uncomfortable, and lonely.

Crawling out of your nest, you scramble to your feet and make your way out of your bedroom and into the living room down the hall—where you can already see the flickering light of the flat TV around the corner, though the volume is low and heavily drowned out by your pack leader’s hackle-raising snores. 

Peeking around the corner, not wanting to disturb him, you find John sprawled out on the large armchair, clutching the remote in one hand, his head tipped back and mouth wide open while he continues to sound like a berserker with sinusitis. It’s an endearing sight, seeing him this openly vulnerable and relaxed, and you can't stop yourself from getting a whiff of his sleepy, musky scent as you sniff the air greedily.

It makes your heart flutter and a pleasant shiver run down your spine.

Oh, how tempted you are to simply walk up and crawl into his lap, bury your face into his chest and sleep with him like this, but you don’t want to risk waking him up, so you let out the softest sigh and slowly turn to sneak off into the other direction, back towards your own cold, empty bedroom—

Just to bump into a tall, solid mountain of lean muscle.

“Havin’ fun stalking the Cap while he’s knocked out cold?”

You swallow a surprised squeak and stare up at Kyle with wide doe-eyes as he swiftly reaches out to grasp your forearms to keep you steady and in place. His voice is soft, full of amusement, his warm brown eyes nearly twinkling in the flickering lights of the TV as he looks down at you. “Aw, did I scare ya, little mouse?”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, I was just getting a glass of water.” It’s a white lie, but you don’t want to start explaining something you have no explanation for yet.

Kyle lifts an eyebrow and releases you to cross his arms as he scrutinizes you while you can clearly see his nostrils twitch as he scents you discreetly.

“I see,” he replies eventually, though, knowing Kyle, you can tell that he’s not buying your lie one bit. “So, you’re good, yeah? Headin’ back to your den then?”

The question lingers in the air and as you open your mouth to answer, he beats you to it.

“Or perhaps another room tonight?” Kyle watches your lashes flutter as you blink dumbly, and he ignores the sudden urge to squish your cheeks with his hands and pull your face against his neck to scent-mark you thoroughly. “I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “ya haven’t been seekin’ out any one of us lately, ‘s all.” He’s not accusing you, just stating an observation he’s made.

And it’s true. You haven’t been seeking out the alphas of your pack; too afraid to be viewed as annoying or too clingy. It’s been hard enough to be the only omega in TF-141, after all. You don’t want to be their burden but an asset instead. 

Swallowing thickly, you really wish you had a cold glass of water right about now. “Uhm, well–” You press your lips into a tight line before you shrug, feeling like a complete idiot. At this point, you might be worse than Simon when it comes to articulating your feelings—not that you’d ever willingly admit that out loud.

“I just... don’t wanna bother anyone. You’re all stressed and busy and uh... yeah, I’ll just go back to my room, I guess,” you grumble, hoping that neither sadness nor disappointment spike your scent to tell on you.

Kyle lets out a small huff through his nose and rolls his shoulders as he listens to you. There’s a slight twitch between his brows as you mention being a bother to them, but then he fixes his face into a more neutral expression before he steps aside.

“Alright. Have a good night, sweetheart.”

You give a small nod, wishing deep down that he’d simply tug you along and make you sleep in his bedroom tonight, but Kyle stands stock still, and you walk past him back down the hall and into your empty, chilly omega den—somehow feeling worse than before.

Your gloomy bedroom feels even colder while you rearrange your nest for the third time, but never feeling satisfied with it. You keep swallowing down the little, high-pitched chuffs and whines of distress bubbling up in your throat; afraid someone might hear or smell the underlying bitterness now lacing your usually bloomy, comforting scent.

When the door suddenly creaks open, you freeze and hold your breath, spine straightening as you kneel in the middle of your nest, clutching your plushie to your chest.

“Relax,” Johnny chuckles quietly, his voice hoarse and gravelly with sleep, “…s’ jus’ me, hen.”

He slips through the crack and leaves the door ajar before he casually walks towards your nest, stretching languidly with a yawn before slipping inside with you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble reflexively, nearly whining, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

But Johnny only clucks his tongue, eyes already fluttering shut in bliss as he pulls you into his arms. “None ‘o tha’, hen,” he grumbles, letting out a contented chuff as soon as he buries his nose into your hair. “Ah missed ye.”

The vibration of his low rumble makes you shiver, it breaks you out of your momentary stupor, and you swiftly reciprocate his embrace, burying your nose into his neck and huffing his lightly smoky scent eagerly with a happy purr.

And while you and Johnny cuddle, bringing balance back to your room, your bedroom door is pushed open once more and a warm, musky scent is added to the atmosphere—like suede and cask aged bourbon.

Simon slips into your nest and curls his massive body around you from behind with nothing more than a deep, sleepy grumble as his heavy arm snakes around your torso, pulling you closer until the tip of his nose is pressed against the nape of your neck.

Feeling like you’re finally on omega cloud nine at this point, surrounded by two of your precious alphas in your own nest, you can barely hear the other two males stumbling into your room above the beginning snores coming from both Johnny and Simon.

“C’mon, Cap, this way.” Lifting your head up, you can hear Kyle mutter quietly as he guides a sleep-drunk Captain Price towards your nest.

“Stay.” Johnny mumbles in his sleep, curling his arm tighter around your waist below Simon’s arm as you shift in their snug embraces, but before you can reply, Price lets out a soft growl—not a warning but a non-verbal order—and suddenly, all four men arrange themselves in your nest, dragging their bulky bodies around sluggishly until they’ve build a proper cuddle pile around you.

They end up snuggling and hugging you one way or another, their noses pressed into your skin while you’re practically buzzing as you purr for them.

“T’was a proper pain in the arse to wake ‘em up, sweet’eart,” Kyle mutters with a soft sigh, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Next time you feel like this, you let us know. We’re here to take care of our ‘mega… and don’t lie to me again,” he grumbles, interlacing his fingers with yours tenderly while your heart thuds steadily against your chest.

“You’re a shit liar.”

[elizzsush]

Beastmen Courting Rituals | TWST

Savanaclaw Dorm X Reader

Leona X Reader, Ruggie X Reader, Jack X Reader,

---- BeastFolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, some even taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 1/3)

Note: Fun fact, I began making Fae courting first but then I posted the future kid thing and didn't want to post two Diasomnia so close together!

Octavinelle Ver | Diasomnia Ver.

Jack:

It started very small, one day he was there, the next he was there again, and the next he was also there.

He was always there.

Then it got a bit... weird? You noticed that when he would approach you, he was making this grumbling, whining sounds? You don't even think he realized it. You chose to ignore this fact for now, maybe it was just because he was a beast man? You didn't want to be rude by saying anything- or make him feel embarrassed.

After that he began to help you with your hair more as well. Well, your general appearance. He'd help you fix your uniform and brush off any dust or anything you'd may want or need help with. In turn you helped him back, it was only fair after all!

Never mind his flushed face while you did this, moving small hairs back in place and picking any particles off his own uniform.

"There's our dynamic pair! beauty and the beast man." Ace teased, a confident grin on his face while you sat down at the table, Jack not too far behind you.

Jack just rolled his eyes, a small blush on his face as he ignored Ace. Aka, while he did the smart thing to do. You, however, have yet to learn that Despite so many months of friendship and raised an eyebrow at the Card boy. "What are you talking about." You rolled your eyes at the boy.

"You don't know? but it's so obvious!" Ace frowned, Grim nodding beside him in agreement, though you doubted he even knew what the boy was talking about. "His tail is always wagging like a fan when he's talking to ya! He's totally in l-" just as Ace was about to finish speaking Jack piped up, his ears straight on his head in an alert manner and his tail stiff behind him.

"I didn't get anything to drink when we got food." He excused himself, you tried to get a look at his face because he wasn't looking at you but he didn't look back and stood up.

Glancing at his tray, you didn't fail to notice the milk carton on it. Plush, Jack was always the prepared, diligent one. That was so odd... You glanced back at Ace only to find him laughing to himself like the funniest thing just happened. "Whatever, where is Deuce?" You rolled your eyes.

"Why should I know? I'm not his mom."

After that, Ace started calling you dense. Maybe you were because you really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

After that it was like there was a switch in Jack. He began to be touchier, not that you minded of course! Cuddling with friends is always nice, and you liked to think it was because of his more... animalistic features and instincts he was cuddlier.

But somehow it felt more intimate. He'd nuzzle his face into your neck and hang off of you like he was a coat instead of a large man who was... well jacked.

You'd often wrestle him off of you because he had gotten into the habit of, as you said before, hanging off of you! He'd whine and almost instinctually wrestle you back to stay into his place.

You may not be as strong as him, but you also didn't hate the way he'd run with you at P.E. You knew he could easily run laps around everyone, but instead he stuck with you. Smiling at you exhausted look and cheering you on. "I'm sure Coach Vargas wouldn't mind us taking a break?" He laughs a bit awkwardly after you glared at him for suggesting it when he barely even broke a sweat.

It wasn't till after Leona off Handly mentioned something about you smelling like Jack. Even wrinkling his nose and saying that he "didn't have to lay it on that thick." That you started to think, maybe, just maybe, something else was going on here.

So, you went to the library. Got yourself your very own book (that you had to return in two weeks) on Beastfolk Mating rituals.

Suddenly, it made sense why Ace thought you were dense. Apparently, this was commonish knowledge in this world! And maybe you were ignoring pretty obvious signs now that you thought about it.

So, one afternoon when Jack was hanging off of you, that look in his eyes you hadn't noticed till now. You bit his hand. His ears straightened in surprise and he looked at you for a moment. A thick blush on his face.

"Am I dense or are you courting me?" You finally asked now that you had his attention.

"I have been for a while now..." He sheepishly admitted while not looking you in the eye.

____________

Ruggie:

He avoided you like the plague, at first.

Even now, sometimes when he's approaching you, you noticed that he might backtrack and hesitate.

Now he is a lot more relaxed, often hanging off of your shoulder. Now that he knows you won't bite his head off. His tail would wag behind him slightly while he interacted with you. A stark contrast to the stiff, alert eared boy he was just a little while ago!

You will say though, it did take some of your lunches to get here. You'd equate this process to that of getting a scared cat to approach you with treats. Now, you didn't even need the treats to get him around! He'd approach you first now too. Still with hesitance, but once he did come up to you he did seem to enjoy himself.

"He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck. "He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck.

"It's so weird to see a Ruggie-Senpai hang out with you so much." Deuce said off handedly one afternoon. You two were studying together when he thought of this.

"What do you mean?" You couldn't help but ask the card solider. Putting your pen down as you looked at him curiously.

The boy just shrugged, a odd look on his face. "I don't know, I just thought Hyena beast men were more... You know." he added a bit awkwardly. You decided to drop it there.

"Yeah... Anyway, I think I remember-"

The interaction stood out in your head, however. What exactly did Deuce even mean? After that interaction, you noticed a couple things as well. Beast students would look at you and nodded at you in recognition? Leona's nose would scrunch up a bit when you spoke to him (though he never made any comments on it), and when you walked into Savanaclaw a beast guy once mistook you for Ruggie before he looked at you?

What did any of that even mean?! When you asked Jack, he just said you smelt like Ruggie.

That small interaction you had with Deuce quickly began to send you down a hill of thinking about everything Ruggie ever did! How he hung off of you, and how you two hung out. It got even weirder when Ruggie offered you some food. Like he had been for a while.

This was very out of character for the Hyena boy! How did you not realize it before? So, you asked him about it. "How come you always offer me something when we eat together?"

He blushed a bit looking at you with wide eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I do that don't I?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean I bring food home for the neighborhood kids too. We all got to eat; you know?" He shrugged it off. You wondered what that meant, because he didn't do it with anyone else, but you failed to push him on the subject.

Your sad to say, you never fully realized what was happening till someone explained it to you.

He knocked on Ramshackle door with a handful of pretty dandelions and asked you on a date. "Perfect, would you like to um... go out with me?" he asked hesitantly, a nervous smile on his face while he put his head down. Like he was trying to protect his neck...

You said yes and it was after that Leona explained how annoying it was watching you two and basically inadvertently explained everything to you...

"That would have been helpful to know sooner." You grumbled to yourself after talking with the lion.

"Eh? Ignore him shyhehe!~ Ruggie just snickered with his usual sly smile.

____________

Leona:

Leona didn't really have time for games. If he liked, you he'd just come out and say it. At least, that's what you had first thought. Yes, he did use your lap as a pillow and you two did cuddle somewhat regularly. That didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

And yeah, Ruggie did scrunch his nose up and complain that you smelt too much like Leona, but that didn't matter. Leona probably didn't mean to do that; he was probably sleeping.

Did Leona roar at you? Yeah, so what? It was like a yawn; it just came out. No, he wasn't blushing! He couldn't be because you were already looking away in embarrassment.

Leona just didn't like you like that. No matter how many Courting book you read on beast men!

The Lion man in question invited you out to a Spelldrive tournament he had been practicing for. Obviously, you went without a second thought. It would be nice to see the lazy lion not lazing around for once! At least that's how you justified it.

You definitely didn't want to just see your crush play a match.

You couldn't help but notice the whole time, how Leona kept looking at you in your seat. Making sure you had just seen him perform. You'd smile and cheer for him and maybe, just maybe, a sense of pride would build up in his chest.

And maybe it was really nice to hear you cheer, and see you jump up from your seat in excitement. And maybe it was really nice to be able to cheer for him.

So you planned to confess to him after this game. "Leona I really liked you! I have for a while now!" And you did.

"Finally." He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, you two then went to cuddle in the garden.

Did that mean you two were together now...?

____________

A/N: I know that some dorms aren't like nonhuman, but I can imagine that like Riddle was taught like courting customs in The Queendom of Roses, (Some queen of heart rule) or like the scalding sands have some costumes? Like the world changes because of beastmen/Fae customs and people adapted to that and added it to their own ways of approaching a relationship? Idk lol

Sorry Leona's part was quite short, I was getting tired and just wanted to get this out! But thank you for reading!

[xiao-come-home]

How they sleep with you - HSR Edition!

✰ Characters: Anaxa, Phainon, Mydei, Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill, Jiaoqiu.

✰ Words: 1,3k.

✰ SFW ; a tiny bit sug/gestive in aven's part.

Warnings: none, gn!reader.

A/N: first time writing for anaxa, phainon, aven and sunday. pls spare me if theyre too ooc :( i tried pensive emoji

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Anaxa:

Religiously sticks to his half of the bed and expects you to do the same as well. Be aware that if you don't behave, he'll poke you intensely with a pointer until you return to your side. It's not that he is uncomfortable with physical contact per se, but he appreciates his personal space; he's not completely heartless though, as he finishes off his day with a kiss that leaves you both breathless. What you may not expect this for the first few times is that when the sun rises ever so slowly, the professor is the one desperately clinging to you, making his lengthy battle the night prior dissipate within mere hours.

"No such things happened," Anaxa answers swiftly, "however, this does not surprise me. This isn't the first time you've devised a ridiculous statement."

You would've believed his words if Anaxa wasn't currently nuzzling into your shoulder blades, searching for your warmth.

Phainon:

If Anaxa at least attempts to keep his distance, Phainon knows nothing of sorts. He's quite shamelessly glued to you as soon as you enter your bedroom, let alone the bed itself. Though, you're not exactly sleeping as soon as you crawl under the covers - Phainon tends to have a cuddle session before finally succumbing to sleep. He wants to talk to you about his day and hear about yours - only then he's satisfied enough. Bedtime might also act as a rare, vulnerable time for Phainon, where no filter exists; he says everything that keeps him restless.

"Will you be there when I wake up?" Phainon only hopes his voice is not as broken as it is inside his head.

"Silly, of course. I'll be by your side every time you wake up." Your tender tone is enough to fade some of the somber clouds above his head.

Phainon laughs, but it comes out as bittersweet; he brings you closer and wraps his arm tightly around your side, hiding his face in your neck. He'll do everything to make it happen - even if it means fighting the fate itself.

Mydei:

The Kremnoan prince insists he doesn't require sleep, but falls victim to your puppy eyes. He makes sure you have the best quality of sheets, pajamas, and pillows; your comfort comes first to him, no matter how many times you insist that he brings you the said comfort the most, and the rest is insignificant. Mydei holds you close to his chest, playing softly with your hair to help you fall asleep - only then he's able to rest, knowing your soul is peacefully in repose. If plagued by nightmares, featherlight kisses on your eyelids wreak the foes away.

"Sleep well, my love," Mydei cradles your cheek for a moment, before adjusting himself; his lips are resting against your forehead, as he himself, begins to doze off.

You, on the other hand, watch Mydei sleep in the morning. A wide smile spreads on your face as you observe his chest fall and rise, a moment of interrupted serenity on his handsome face.

"Looking at me again?" The male questions, his deep voice dripping with honey, watching you with one eye open; perhaps not yet ready for the bright light.

"No...?"

Mydei pinches your nose lightheartedly.

"You're a bad liar."

Sunday:

Poor thing trying to break the habit. Being used to having everything in perfect state, Sunday needs a reminder that it's okay for bedsheets to have a few wrinkles here and there. He'll apologize nervously, but you can't stop him from fluffing up your pillows and readjusting the covers. He tries to stay on his half but desperately wants to stay close to you, so don't hesitate to pull him close - he'll freak out for a bit, and then slowly, but steadily give in to your touch. There's one thing you too, cannot resist - watching his innocent image crumble away in your very hands.

"Quit smushing my face against your—" Sunday's words die in his throat as you push his face further into your chest, the redness of his cheeks so bright, it could rival Himeko's scarlet hair.

"This is— this is inappropriate! How humiliating..."

You only laugh at your boyfriend's despair. Sometimes it's nice to be a villain.

"What, you're not gonna fight me? Are you chickening out?" You poke his side. He groans and bends in half for a second.

"Atrocious joke."

Be prepared for his wing accidentally hitting your face tomorrow when you kiss...

Himeko: lmfaoo robin you wont believe they actually did this *sends a video*

Aventurine:

Gambling who sleeps on the floor. You don't play that game anymore. The blonde finds great pleasure in aggravating you before sleep hits in, gambling with his own life to get a reaction out of you. He cackles mischievously if you try to suffocate him with a pillow for tickling you for at least 15 minutes prior, but even so, it's not enough for him to let you go to the dreamland, yet. By the time you're done, your bed needs to be made again and your shared panting could possibly give bystanders a very different idea...

"Aven, enough, I think my diaphragm might actually explode," a remnant of giggles still exits your mouth, unfortunately, Aventurine does not share your sentiment and snakes his arm against your belly, while kissing your neck a bit too enthusiastically.

"Stopping, now? Where's the fun in that?" His fingers play with the waistband of your pajamas, "Why not raise the stakes a bit more?" Your skin turns into goosebumps as you feel a grin painting itself on Aventurine's face against your neck.

Boothill:

Well, he doesn't sleep really, he has to get recharged with electricity to get the energy back... So there might be a problem. Hopefully, your bed is also able to support some heavy weight, since laying down with a man whose body is almost a full machine, can be quite challenging. Either way, Boothill is actually pretty excited to accompany you, even if he'll spend most of the time watching you sleep instead; he'll hum you a song to help you fall asleep, card through your hair with his hand - it's... Reminding him of the peace he used to have on his home planet. You being the only survivor besides Boothill made him much more protective than before, but seeing you sleep so blissfully curled up to him... You still trust him. That's all it matters, after so many sleepless nights you've had.

"Shh, sleep," Boothill urges you gently, pulling up the bedding to cover you further.

"I wish you could sleep with me."

Boothill chuckles, caressing your cheek with his robotic finger, "I might not sleep with ya anymore, but I'm still here. And will be, until yer sick of me."

Jiaoqiu:

This man. He wraps his whole body around you like a snake and doesn't let go until morning. If it's possible for him to entangle his tail somewhere - expect that too. If you try to escape his grasp, he'll accuse you of not loving him anymore and might bite you (in a teasing way, of course). The sly foxian tends to sneak his hands under your clothes to rest them over your bare skin; sometimes, if need be, instead of teasing you furthermore, he gives you a soothing massage before drifting off. In fact, he'd prefer to sleep bare - skin to skin, but respects it if you're not interested; not that a mere layer will stop him from being a menace.

"Jiaoqiu," you sigh, looking over your shoulder, "your tail is reaching places that the sun cannot."

"Oh, really?" His voice dripping with fake surprise, but he only adjusts his head against the pillow behind you, "A checkup is necessary in order to ensure your health is in good condition."

Despite his silvery voice and elegant words, don't be fooled - mischief is laced through the tiny gaps.

[reignpage]

“Y’r a real clumsy pain in the ass, ya know that?” Toji’s making tsk sounds every time he finds a new scrape to clean up. It’s funny to see him look so concentrated – his brows are furrowed, he’s gripping your limbs firmly but gently, careful of his finger placements, and prodding here and there, determining if you need to go to the hospital. “Why’dya even think it was a good idea to go skateboarding? Fuck do you know about that?”

Ah, man. He’s really pissed. He rarely ever gets worked up like this. Sure, he gets annoyed or irritated – the man has the patience of a child, after all – but there’s a frantic quality to his movements, a hesitation before he applies the alcohol on your wounds, and a telltale dart of his eyes at your face after, searching for a wince or a flinch. 

Your thumb flies up, smoothing that wrinkle between his eyebrows. “If you get any more tense, you’ll blow a fuse, Toji.”

He grabs your wrist tight, scoffs, and then lays a frustrated kiss on the inside. 

“Whose goddamn fault is that? Fucking losing my mind here ‘cause you can’t be trusted to act like an adult. Turn my back for one shitty second and then y'r all crumpled up on the concrete, crying like a baby. Was worried you’d lose all your blood.”

The kitchen counter is cold beneath your legs and he must notice because a heavy hand of his rubs some warmth on one of your thighs, squeezing for comfort. 

Sheepish, you mumble an apology. 

“Sorry?” He’s flabbergasted in a way you've never seen him be. You almost want to laugh. “Don’t make that face. None of this is funny, ya damn brat.”

"It looked easy online! Everyone's doing it."

He makes an unamused sound. "If they tell you to jump, would ya?"

"Yeah, probably."

Not finding that funny in the slightest, he shoots you a glare. "Y'r a comedian now, are ya? And what? Y’r body's the punch line, that it? You just gonna throw it around everywhere without a single care in the world?"

Still feeling defensive, you pout. "Yeah, if I want. It's my body."

"No." His fist slams on the counter. The vibrations rattle your bones. "It's my body. It's the body of the woman I love. The body I feed, I hold at night, the body I need with me. My woman, my body. So, dammit, take care of it, will ya?"

Your eyes are rolling before you can help yourself. "You're being dramatic."

“Look at me.” He pinches your chin. There’s a silencing sincerity in his eyes. It’s serious, frenzied, pleading. It steals your breath, forcing you to the present and washing away that veil of courage you blanketed yourself under. The sting of all your wounds come to you like a wave, sweeping you under. Your injuries must have been worse than you first realised. “You can make light of this all you want, but you didn’t see what I saw. Didn’t hear what I heard – fuck, baby. You were crying. I ain’t never hear you sound like that before. And I don’t want to again. It broke my fucking heart.”

Jaw clenching, he eyes you all over, shaking his head. He still can’t believe this happened — scrapes like these aren’t meant for women, especially not his brilliant girl, who smiles too often and loves too much. His precious girl.

Every day, he worries over how hard he squeezes you in a hug, how much weight he’s putting on you when you cuddle, and how fast he moves when you’re around. This is the body he worships day in and day out and just like that, he’s reminded once again of how easily he could lose it all. How easily he could lose you.

Toji’s head falls onto your lap. His arms wrap around your hips. From your view, he looks somewhat like a child. He kisses your thigh, inhales deeply, and burrows his face tighter against you as if reminding himself you’re here and you’re okay and he’s not letting this happen again. 

“I’m sorry, Toji. Really.”

He scoffs again. God, he needs to stop doing that. “Yeah, you will be. ‘Cause I’m tying y’r uncoordinated ass to me. So if you wanna go down, y’r taking me with ya.”

“Deal.”

[captainpriceslilwife]

something silly with our boy simon because i don't write anything for him literally ever heehee! (Also I saw a work abt Price and a djungelskog that probably inspired this wrinkle in my brain, but i cannot for the life of me find it - pls let me know if you know it so i can tag for inspo!!!)

"The fuck is tha'?"

He just wanted to lie down with his girl. That's all he wanted.

Familiarity. After being gone for over a month, he's been craving a moment of peace with his sweet girlfriend. In his bed. With his sheets. And his pillow that's got his head practically etched into it from how long he's had it.

But there it is - a new fixture - right smack in the middle of his bed.

A bloody teddy bear. And a big one, at that.

"Djungelskog" You say with a proud smile, placing your hands on your hips like you haven't been completely betraying him for the past five weeks.

"Gasundheit. Now answer my question."

"His name is djungelskog."

Simon's eyebrows raise to his forehead as he glances between you and the brown blob taking up nearly half of his bed. "His? It's a bloody he?"

And you - you seem absolutely chuffed at his displeased expression. "Are you jealous?"

"Of an obese teddy bear? Please. His head is too small for his body." He punctuates his words by smacking the bear's head back unceremoniously, pulling a discontented squeak from you as you move to fix it. "Looks like a fuckin' idiot."

"He does not!"

"Stupid fuckin' name, too."

"Cut it out!" Your defense of the thing only makes him brood even more - and he's starting to look more and more like the bear himself with his hunched shoulders and bowed head - not that you'd ever tell him that. Not out loud anyway. "He is the only reason I haven't absolutely lost my mind from loneliness while you're halfway across the world, so I'm sure he would appreciate a thank you."

"Thanks." He mumbles coldly as he picks it up out of your hands and tosses him on the floor - leaving you slack-jawed and horrified. He just shrugs his shoulders, trying to steer you back towards the bed as he steps over the flaccid bear that's now sprawled out on the carpet. "Don't need 'im anymore, love. I'm here now."

"...Djungy..." You murmur quietly - a soft coo that makes Simon roll his eyes in annoyance. You came up with a bloody nickname for him, too? While he was off fighting terrorists? He can't help but scoff softly as you shimmy out of his grip to bend down and pick it back up again, giving him a disapproving look before you begin dusting him off carefully. "Don't put him on the floor, Simon."

"Fuck's sake, love. I want to lie down in my own bed."

"We can all fit!"

And now here he is - spooning you from behind while you cuddled up to junglesmog or whatever his name was.

You're sound asleep, sandwiched between your two boys without a worry in the world to ruin your peace. But Simon? Simon is glaring daggers over at that overstuffed piece of Swedish fluff.

Was he being dramatic? Probably.

But the way you cling to it so tightly is making his chest ache. He understands that you were lonely without him - probably missing him more than he could ever imagine. But he's here now...so why the hell are you still snuggled up to that thing?

Ever so slowly, he loosens your grip on the bear as carefully as he can, but you still whimper softly in your sleep when he pushes it away (a bit more aggressively than he needed to, but hey, it's not like you're awake to see). You shift around uncomfortably - actively seeking out the comfort that Simon had so rudely taken away from you - and he decides to take his opportunity to flip you over gently to face him.

Your arms immediately circle around him, and he lets out a breath when you begin to nuzzle your face into his neck and settle back down. Fucking finally.

"There she is..." He whispers softly as he presses a gentle kiss to your hairline, making you hum quietly in your sleep. "...there's my girl."

And he can finally fall asleep now that he's gotten that damn bear out of the way and you safely tucked into him - wrapped up in his arms.

Where you belong.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 🍎

My personal headcanons for Boyfriend!Caleb after what I've seen and read about his character so far. A/N: All my ride or die Caleb girlies if you disagree with anything on this list im not going to argue with you please don't take my word as law. I love y'all dont fight me 💋 feel free to add more in the replies ‼️MDNI‼️ + cw: quick mention of cnc & primal play

[SFW]

wants to be in your skin wrapped around your nervous system and nestled in the wrinkles of your brain ; if this man could glue you to him he would

remembers everything that happened to him and mc when they were lab rats as kids which is probably where his mental health started rapidly declining

Cuddles ! ; he’ll also cuddle you while youre asleep constantly ; doesn’t matter if you’re in his bed, the guest bed or your bed he’ll climb right in and snuggle up

leaves you bowls/plates of fresh fruit and a glass of water on your nightstand

doing backflips if you tell him he can wash your hair for you ; the longer it takes the better

monitors your social media and online presence “You shouldn't post that no one needs to see you naked” “Im wearing a bikini Caleb” “Basically naked”

big on taking photos he wants as many photos together as possible

movie nights and date nights are his shit he’ll alway be down for that ; if you two have a show you watch together he is genuinely hurt if you watch an episode without him

holds your hand even when you don’t want him to ; would quite literally use his evol to hold your hand in place

if you’re sick he's at your bedside 24/7 with medication and home cooked remedies ; will spoon feed you if you let him

uses his body as a wall in large crowds to keep people from bumping into you

will beat the brakes off of anyone who dares to even look at you sideways and when you ask him what he did he’ll lie and smile in your face

PINKY PROMISES ARE LAW

will take you everywhere with him and will also follow you anywhere ; he’d stand guard outside of the bathroom stall if he could

although he does have some bolts rattling around (because they’re not loose they’re fully free) he will pamper the hell out of you ; he’s running you a bath, rubbing your feet and cooking dinner so you have a relaxed night and warm meal

when you do help him cook he’ll stand behind you and cover your hand with his while he guides your hand with the knife

will hold anything you hand him while he’s on the phone

has an entire closet of all the gifts you’ve ever given him

the type to close the door and immediately lock it if you’re in a room alone with him

hates to argue with you ; he’ll do it, but he regrets it afterwards apologizes profusely later with your favorites foods, sweets, treats and things

has to get a kiss before he leaves ; he’s not leaving without it

the type to wrap your arms around his neck when he goes in for a kiss

loves caging you between his arms and his body at any given chance

has to be touching you in some kind of way

the type to tuck you in every night

loves to give you massages because he loves touching you

[NSFW]

needs you to use your words “tell me how you want it” “don’t cover your mouth” “tell me you missed me” “how much?” “right there or right here? Tell me” “open your mouth” “how much do you love me?” “are you all mine? say it”

records your moans so he can listen to them later

pretty panty lover ; buys you lots of them ; loves to have you model them and you’re getting dicked down if you’re walking around the house in them

takes you anyway he can ; favorite position? ALL OF EM mans brain turns to mush just having his hand on you ; a dom that will punish you, but gives stellar aftercare

loves to tease you by getting you wet and just rubbing his tip over the fabric ; slides the panties to the side instead of taking them off because he loves to see them on you

a vocal moaner and a yapper when he nuts ; nuts inside every time makes him feel like he’s claiming you

Intentionally fails no nut November and says “we’ll try again tomorrow” turns you every way but loose for the entire month

massages your thighs and coochie so he can watch his cum drip out of you

a slurper and moaner when he eats it ; eats the pussy and the ass

puts the colonel hat on you

100% into cnc & somnophilia I will not argue with anyone about this ; not a fan of dacryphilia he hates to see you cry

you have to have a safe word because he gets pussydrunk extremely easily

panty stealer ; keeps a pair in his pocket when he goes to work ; clean or dirty doesn’t matter to him

into primal play would chase you through the woods in the Rina Kent - God of War mask and rearrange your guts right there with pleasure

would get jealous of your vibrator/dildo

[kashverse]

dadkuna has definitely lost some hairs (bro freaks out when he sees a small bald spot) due to the amount of shit he gets at work. it gets to a point where mamakuna tells him to watch one of those stress relief asmr videos on yt 😭😭😭

sukuna may be the boss of his company, but stress comes for everyone. unfortunately, it seems to have found your beloved a few years too early.

"no," he whispers, voice hoarse with despair. you blink at him, mid-brushing your teeth. "what?"

sukuna stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, horror-stricken. his fingers tremble as they graze the tiniest bald spot on the side of his scalp. "no," he says again, this time more broken.

then, like a shakespearean tragedy in motion, he crumples to the floor. "this is it," he croaks, staring up at the ceiling. “this is where it all ends.” you roll your eyes, spitting toothpaste into the sink. "drama queen."

"i’m serious," he whines, gripping his thick hair in frustration. "i can't be a hot dad anymore."

"excuse me?" you say, narrowing your eyes.

"baldness? wrinkles? this is the beginning of the end, babe. i’m done for."

you promptly whack the tiny bald spot with a sharp slap.

sukuna yelps. "OW!"

"you’re being ridiculous," you scoff. "it's barely visible. besides, you’re rich. you can just buy hair if it gets bad."

"that’s not the point!" he huffs, rubbing the offended spot.

"whatever," you mutter. "you need to calm down." sukuna scowls. "how?"

you pause. then, suddenly, an idea. you smirk. "let’s do something we haven’t done since college." sukuna’s brows lift. "i’m listening."

"asmr," you say proudly. there's a beat of silence. then—

sukuna lets out the ugliest scoff. "fuck no."

"c’mon!" you laugh. "just try it."

"babe, i’d rather let gojo shave my head completely than listen to some whispering lady tell me i’m safe and loved," he grumbles. you put your hands on your hips. "fine. suffer, then."

but thirty minutes later you walk into your shared bedroom, already smug.

because there he is. the great and powerful sukuna. sprawled out on the bed, completely boneless. sony noise-canceling headphones snug over his ears. a gentle asmr video playing on the screen. his face smooshed into your pillow for extra comfort.

you grin, leaning against the doorframe. "so," you hum, arms crossed. "you’d rather let gojo shave you bald, huh?"

sukuna cracks open an eye. then, without a shred of dignity, he reaches for you. 

"shut up and come cuddle me."

[leclarifies]

letters (MV33)

꒰ max verstappen x childhoodbestfriend! reader ꒱

synopsis┊it was confusing, even though you were continents apart, you never understood why max never responded to your letters, until you attend the belgium gp to finally get the answers you were looking for. inspired by the prompt, "why did you never reply to my letters?" "you wrote me letters?"

genre┊ fluffy, the fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffed.

word count┊ 4.4k

aria yaps┊ i have worked on this non-stop for two days, and i loved the way it turned out, maybe one of my favorite works. enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing this!!

SECOND PART

she was always around max, either from the sidelines or the first person max ran to when he won a race, it was always her. not even his father, even though he held his father to the highest regard, but it was always her.

the little wrinkles on the edge of her eyes when she smiled at him, the way her lips would curl up, or the way she would giggle every. single. time. that he would come and hug her after every race finish. he remembers it all. and the way he would snuggle his face in the crook of her neck and asked her softly after he would win a race, 'did you see me win, schatje?'

she would always smile back with a laugh, 'of course i did maxie.'

it was always about max, her life revolved around him, whether he liked it or not. she adored him and maybe he adored her a little bit more. they were childhood friends, they were inseparable since they were little babies, their mothers being friends made it even harder for the both of them to not be attached at the hip.

she loved being in his presence and he loved her.

the divorce between jos and sophie was hard on max, he blamed himself and his career but she was always there to tell him that it's not his fault. that their decision was their own and she never forgot to tell max that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much they told him that it was.

she saw the way jos had pushed max to his limits, get physical with his own son and his way of escaping that life was run to her arms, she was there tending to every bruise, every wound whether physical or emotional. she was his rock and it was final. nothing anyone could ever say or do would change his name.

"schatje," max had gently woken her up from her slumber, and she stirred awake from his soft voice, she noticed where she was and finally remembered what happened.

max had finished lower than expected and jos had thrown hurtful things about max, she was there on his mother's couch, comforting him and had fallen asleep that way, with max on her lap, "are you sleepy?"

she shook her head, not wanting to admit that yes, indeed she was sleepy, but if max needed comfort then that wasn't a big deal to her, "what's wrong maxie?"

"nothing, you can sleep on my bed if you're tired. i can sleep here," max had brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear but she refused, she hated taking his bed because she knew how uncomfortable the couch was, she wanted him to sleep well.

but he wouldn't allow her to take the couch, so they both slept on sophie's couch almost cuddled with eachother because they were both stubborn.

max was necessarily content with how he was living his life right now, but she made it better and that's all he could ask for. was it her smile? maybe her presence? max didn't care. the first memory he could remember from his early childhood was her, and it was etched into his memory like stone.

she was content with being max's rock, she was there to keep him grounded and she too only had memories of him from her early childhood. she wouldn't replace him for the world, he was too precious for anything in this earthly world.

but there was one day, it felt like a bomb dropped on her. her father had told her that he would have to move to korea to continue work, and she didn't know how to break the news to max until a few days before she had to leave.

she knew it was wrong to keep something this big away from max, but she was so stricken with anxiety that she never got the chance to until max came over to her house and saw all the packed boxes with their belongings.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?" max was angry, she could tell, by the way he was pacing around her room, looking at the packed boxes around. max thought he meant more to her than just a measly friend, he felt frustrated— betrayed almost. why wouldn't she tell him? why would she keep something as big as this away from him?

"why didn't you say something before? why now? why before you could see me race this weekend?" max was raising his voice now, and she didn't know what to do. her eyes turned glassy and those doe eyes max loved so much just looked so sad.

she stayed quiet, a guilty look on her face. she knew max would break from the news, and she knew that it would affect his performance, but she didn't know how to stay, how to convince her father that she didn't want to go, so yet again, she stayed silent in important moments of her life.

"schatje, can you say something? say anything?!" max yelled and she flinches, she didn't know what to say or what to do, she wanted to say something, say anything. but nothing would come to her lips. it was so hard for her when he was angry like this, it reminded her of his father and his father was deathly scary when angry.

a sigh escapes max's lips when he sees her flinch, coming close to her to wrap her in a hug. tears escaped from her eyes as she held onto max tight, "i didn't know how to tell you," she whispers into max's ear but max didn't say anything to that, just held her even tighter and he did not want to let go.

"it's okay schatje, i'm not mad at you. i could never get mad at you, i'm sorry for raising my voice. i just don't want you to go," tears started to escape max's eyes too, he didn't want to see her go. he wanted her to stay, and she did too. but the universe was pulling them apart and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

the ride to the airport was tough, being only fifteen and sixteen respectively. max held her hand the entire time, not wanting to let go, he didn't want her to leave, she was his biggest support system and he couldn't imagine her gone like that.

she was the most scared of the two of them, what if her father never returned to belgium? what if she was stuck there in korea forever? what if she never got to see his pretty blue eyes anymore?

max was the one to ground her, no longer lost in her thoughts, "can you promise me we'll keep in touch? or maybe visit from time to time?" max was holding onto her hands tightly, she felt like they would bruise, she could only smile and nod.

her mother had called her over, it was time to go. she looked at max for what it felt like the last time and left her life in belgium.

dear schatje,

hi, this is the first week that you're gone and it's bene been so hard without you here with me. i forgot that you weren't here anymore and i was expecting to see your face, but when i didn't, i may or may not have almost cried.

i miss you so much. tell me how it is in korea, is it cold? do they have bears there? what about the food? is it good? can you eat it? i heard there's a lot of spiy spicy food there? honestly i don't care about what they have there, i just care about you.

when can you visit again? can you tell me if you're ever coming back? i'm so worried about you there, i miss you... so much schatje.

written with a lot of love, your maxie.

max always handed off his letters to his father, telling his father to hand it off to his mother because apparently they kept in contact and wanted to send it off to the post office on behalf of him.

he just wondered how she was doing there.

it's been months and countless of letters max had sent, and none of them replied. he was starting to lose hope, he didn't want to think that his best friend would forget about him so easily like that, but he held out hope. he knew that she wouldn't magically forget about him now that she was there.

jealousy bubbled within him when he realized that she would be meeting new people, what if she met someone like him? who enjoyed karting and wanted to steal her attention?

no, he couldn't be thinking like that. he loved her and he knew she loved him as much as he did, so he told himself to just be patient, maybe letters to korea took months to reach?

the naviety was almost laughable but he was fine with it. he just wanted to hear back from his pretty girl.

"i do not understand why you keep writing letters to that stupid girl, she doesn't reply to you and all it does is distract you," jos had reprimanded his son, but max was stubborn. he didn't care what his father had to say, he loved all of her, even when she was thousands of kilometers away. he wanted to talk, even when she never replied.

max was in the process of writing another letter, but he never listened to his father, not about her. not about how much of a distraction she's been to his career, he didn't care. he used it as motivation to get better on the track, so the next time she saw him, he would be a world champion, that's what he silently promised to her.

it had been two years, and he hadn't heard a peep back. slowly, he was starting to lose hope but he couldn't lose hope, every single time he would send off the letters, he told himself that maybe it got lost in the mail.

max kept writing though.

max's debut in f1 was explosive to say the least, his interviews would absolutely go viral by the things he was saying in them. he didn't understand why, he just said what was on his mind.

what was truly on his mind was her.

was he not good enough for her? was him being in f1 not enough to impress her? why wouldn't she write back?

oh god how he missed her.

he still wrote to her weekly, it was religious at this point. he never forgot and he always told his father to send them off to his mother and the week after that was always disappointment because he wouldn't hear anything back.

little did he know, she never received those letters.

max had slowly stopped writing letters as he got into f1, he didn't see a point in it anymore. she never replied. she didn't care. letters didn't take years to reach korea, and he finally lost hope.

winning his first championship felt empty, the pretty girl who used to be waiting for him wasn't there for him anymore. of course, he was happy to win such an impressive feat, who wouldn't? but it just... lacked her.

max indeed lost hope that she would ever write back, but never lost hope that she was out there, somewhere, watching him race every single week and beat the shit out of his rivals. she loved watching him race and that's what he intended to do until the day he died, he wanted to impress her, maybe that was his ulterior motive to becoming a formula one driver.

all just to impress his best friend who had lost contact with him for a decade now.

"you need to stop figdeting so much," her mother had scolded her, she could only laugh nervously and stop fidgeting around. she wondered why max never wrote back to her, she had written him letters. did he hate her for moving out to korea and not coming to visit belgium?

she shook the thoughts out of her head, she was here now. for his home race, and for the rest of her life. her father had now decided to move back to belgium, because and i quote, 'i don't want my daughter to lose touch with her culture'.

she was 26 now, and she had guessed that he turned 27 not too long ago. it's been so long since she talked to him and she hoped that the spark that she had been yearning for had not been lost to the passages of time.

getting the paddock passes was not easy, it was a war and a half but she managed to snag some for herself and a friend that wanted to visit belgium and would arrive later on in the week.

"how did you even manage to get paddock passes for us?" heejin, her friend that wanted to visit had asked, she could only laugh and explain how she got them, it was a war and a half. heejin laughed along with her as they both arrived and scanned their passes at the entrance.

"i'm gonna meet my best friend here— well it's complicated. i don't think he considers me a best friend anymore, but i still do," she had softly told heejin who was a big formula one fan even before meeting her, heejin raised her eyebrow when she said that.

the both of them were walking down the paddock, passing all of the different team's hospitalities. heejin raised her eyebrow at her friend, who shrugged.

"who's your best friend?" heejin had asked as they pass by the red bull hospitality, she stopped which signalled heejin to stop as well, she looked at the redbull in awe. she hadn't been to a formula one race yet, the closest she'd been was to karting but that didn't bring on the feelings she felt when standing in front of this red bull building.

"well, he's driving the number one car."

"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"

"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"

max had heard a girl yell, he slowly turned his head. he was confused, he didn't have a best friend— well not anymore. she had moved to korea, all memories of her stuck in his head being replayed all over and over again.

that's all he had left of her.

the other girl shushed the girl who yelled, and that's when it dawned on max. the other girl looked awfully familiar, he couldn't quite place why she looked so familiar but she looked like her, like his best friend.

"shh! you can't just yell that out in public," she clamped a hand on her friend's mouth, "they're gonna think i'm insane!" then the both of them giggled, it did sound ridiculous but now he was curious.

was she back? was that her? who was she with? is that her new best friend? is that her?

as they both walked away, max wanted to run up to them, to ask that one particular girl what her name was. what she was doing here and who she was with but all of that died when he got approached by his race engineer.

then he forgot all about that familiar girl that he saw in front of the red bull hospitality.

max would only get another glimpse of her when it was race day, they were walking through the paddock in a similar fashion, but max promised to himself that he would approach them, that he would ask but there was doubt in his heart.

what if she forgot about him?

she couldn't, right?

and so approach them he did, tapping the girl that he felt was so familiar to on the shoulder, she had turned around and they had locked eyes.

it was as if she never left.

the sparks, they all came rushing back and then his heart started beating out of his chest, he wanted to ask so many questions, why she was here, who she was with, when she came back— why she came back, why she never wrote him back.

but the only thing that left his lips were a simple, "hi."

heejin was freaking out, she could tell. she knew that heejin was a big red bull fan too, always talking about how the team was dominating and they had the better car. she had heard all about it. but the little dutchboy she left all those years ago was standing in front of her and not-so little anymore and all those thoughts about her girlfriend was forgotten.

he looked the same, but grown and decked out in red bull merch. she wanted to laugh at how innocent he looked when he tapped her on the shoulder to get her to turn around, he looked stupid, stupidly cute.

all of those feelings from when she was back in belgium came back, she almost forgot what it felt like to be around max— her max. he looked like he was going to cry when he got a good look at her, that he finally realized that yes, it's her. the one that left him in belgium all those years ago.

and maybe she could cry too.

"maxie?" a familiar nickname slipped from her lips and she didn't get a response back, but a bear hug in return.

god, her scent. it was everything to him. he fucking missed it— miss her.

"i thought... i thought you forgot about me," max buried his face into the crook of her neck, she too wrapped her arms around max and buried her face into his chest. his voice was so vulnerable, all she wanted to do was curl around him and tell him that she would never.

she shook her head as she sank into the hug, "i could never forget my maxie," she mumbled into his chest, he held onto her tighter. he never wanted to let go, not now, not ever. she was where she was finally supposed to be, right in his arms.

once they got time alone after his race, max had stolen her away from her friend and dragged her into his driver's room, locking the door and pushing her against the wall, slamming his lips onto hers. he had been dreaming about this for so long, his lips on hers.

he didn't want to so sexual with her, no not yet. being in the small driver's room where they couldn't be free out of the public eye wasn't a good place. he just wanted to touch her, hold her, love her, make sure that she knew how much he had missed this.

missed them being together.

her hands instinctively went up to hold onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he kissed her softly. the feelings going through him were a mix of nostalgia, longing and love. he loved her for so long and it was so like her to show up when it mattered the most.

he won it for her today, to show her, that the little max she knew still had it in him to win and to impress her even with a world championship under his belt.

she felt the softness and the gentleness that max was touching her with, she knew how much he loved her. how much he care, how much he longed for her touch and she did too, only so much more.

she had so many questions in her, on why he never replied to the letters she sent or why he never sent any himself, not knowing what happened with her letters and why they never arrived properly.

but she didn't care at the moment, all she cared about was that she was safely in his arms, never to be let go ever again.

safe to say, her lips were to the point of bruising that night. max had forbade her to go back home, or to be away from his sight. he had kissed her silly, not wanting to let her go and there she was, settled nicely in his arms.

it's not like she wanted to go anywhere anyway.

the movie in the background was long forgotten, max's lips felt like they were molded for hers. he had waited for her for so long, waited to feel her skin after so long and this just felt right, it felt right when he was with her.

"maxie— mmhh— my love, stop," she had to talk in between kisses, max didn't want to let her go, his fingers were basically imprinted onto her waist. she was straddling max as he sat upright and kissed her, so softly. like she would break if he was any harder, even though he absolutely did want to kiss her harder.

max released her from the kiss with a pout, his pretty lips were red and swollen from all the kissing they did. everything in the world just seemed to fade into the background when they were together, like everyone else in this world was so insignificant for their time and they were the only people worthy of each other's time.

"but why? i wanna kiss you, i miss you. i have waited for you for ten years, the least you can do is let me kiss you until you're sick of me," max mumbled against her lips and all she could do was giggle.

god, her laugh, he loved it.

she shook her head and left a final peck on his lips, "because i want to talk maxie, we can't just kiss whatever questions we have for eachother away," she told him but he seemed to think otherwise, she had moved back to put a bit of distance in between them, to make sure max didn't go in to kiss her again.

"oh yes we can, i don't care about the questions, schatje. i just wanna be with you, just like old days, but now it's so different because in those ten years without you, i finally realized what i felt and how i felt for you and i can't wait any damn longer to finally kiss those pretty lips of yours, so please. just let me do this for another three hours and we can talk," max begged as he pulled her closer.

she couldn't imagine kissing for another three hours as they spent the last hour doing it, but with him? she would do it for another life-time if she could.

the both of them later had the serious talk when they were done kissing each other, now wanting answers from eachother. their legs were tangled and intertwined with each other's, not wanting to let go from their skin to skin contact.

"first off, why did you never reply to my letters? i wrote you so many. so many that i lost count, i would always write to you but you never replied, why?" max's voice came out strained, all of the painful feelings from the last ten years of his life were coming out, her doe eyes looked up from where she was, laying against his chest.

"you wrote me letters? i wrote you letters, you never replied. i thought you got too busy with your karting career to reply—"

"i could never get too busy to reply to you, but i never got any of your letters, schatje," max murmured against her forehead, kissing it gently after he spoke. she hummed a response before it dawned on her, she had always sent the letters to his father's address and she knew that his father wasn't fond of her, even offering her a huge lump sum of cash just for her to stay away from his son but she never accepted it, always choosing to be beside max, no matter what happened.

she looked up and sighed, she knew what happened now, she connected the pieces, "did you send your letters off to your dad?" she asked, and max nodded before it dawned on him too.

"that fucker hid the letters from you and never sent mine..."

she could only nod sadly, but it didn't matter now. all that mattered was that they were reconnected now.

scattered around them were the countless of letters max had written to her and all of the letters from her that he never received, the years of pining, longing— all of them tucked neatly away into these little envelopes that held all of those unsaid feelings.

a soft sigh escapes her lips, she looked at all of them, there were hundreds maybe. all of them posted to where she stayed in korea but never sent, always kept in a big box where all of his letters were and hers were stuffed in there in a similar fashion.

her heart clenched when she saw how many there were, there were far more many than whatever she sent, even though she did send quite a big sum.

when max had found out, he stormed into jos' house and demanded to ask why he never sent out the letters that he wrote and a big fight broke out, she had to hold of max from physically harming his own father. then they left after given the big box filled with letters.

"there's so many..." she watched in awe as all of them were sorted by date, from the latest to the earliest, max looked up at her with those big blue icy eyes of his, he looked really sad. stuck in his feelings almost, not understand why his father would do whatever he did in the past.

max held her hand gently, pulling her into his embrace, "i have always loved you, even when i was a little kid. i just didn't understand what those feelings were, i just acted on how i felt and being away from you... i just couldn't. so i sent you my love in the form of these letters."

she left a lingering kiss on his cheek, she felt sorry for having to leave all those years ago. she should've fought, should've stood her ground on how much she wanted to stay but she was just a 16 year old kid who didn't know how to, "i know. i'm sorry i had to leave all those years ago."

"don't apologize, schatje. i have never blamed you for leaving me. i have always held love for you in my heart, even if you didn't know it."

"i always knew max, and i still do."

very willing to do a part 2 to this btw, will only do it when requested tho. not proofread, excuse grammar mistakes.

[mariasont]

GENTLEMEN PREFER PAJAMAS

you are tipsy and flirty with spencer after a night out, leading to soft kisses, drunk rambling, and sleepy cuddles

pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: alcohol consumption, no gendered language (I don’t think at least, let me know if there is), tipsy reader, sensual undertones but nothing crazy, flashback of sex scene but it's not too descript, drunk flirting, established relationship, lots of sleepy affection, mild undressing, domestic fluff, mutual pining but already together wc: 1.6k

You collapse onto the pillows in a sprawling, uncoordinated heap, giggling helplessly into Spencer’s mouth as he lands right after, warm and solid and perfectly weighted. You imagine some celestial force eavesdropped on your wishes and promptly deposited him on top of you.

You remind yourself to thank them and gravity. Tonight, at least, it’s completely forgiven for all those stubbed toes and spilled coffees.

And gravity is making your limbs feel like noodles. No, scratch that, noodles would have infinitely more structure. It’s possible you’re not even a person anymore. Perhaps you’ve melted straight into the mattresses, becoming one with it, all fluff and sighs and goofy grins. 

Is that a thing? Can people turn into beds? You’ll ask Spencer later.

Right now there’s kissing to do. Right now, your fingers are stumbling over a jawline so sharp and lovely and you think he smells like laundry straight from the dryer. You suffocate in it as your nose nudges to the hollow beneath his throat. 

And his hands — oh, his hands — they’re now under your shirt and it tickles and you think you’re giggling again, because what else is there to do when heaven is handsy?

He sighs, hands sinking into the plush curve of your waist.  It’s a familiar sigh you love hearing, one of those overly dramatic, pretend-exasperation sounds to signal his patience is running thin. Except you know better. Intimately so. Because beneath that theatrical huff is a smile he can’t quite hide, not when you can almost taste it if you turned your head just right.

He loves this, you’re certain, even if he refuses to say it. But that’s fine. You’re smart, even drunk-smart, and knowing is basically just as good as hearing. Actually, it’s even better because now you’re filled with the giddy determination to chase after that invisible grin with your lips, to hunt down the saccharine concealed there until it blossoms fully into laughter.

“I think,” you whisper loudly, your own smile mashed sloppily into the roughness of his cheek, “you just wanna get me naked.”

Spencer snorts. "I think you need to drink more water."

Killjoy. Beautiful, smirking, possibly medically correct killjoy.

Spencer gently lifts your arms, pulling off your shirt in one very smooth, very grown-up motion. Textbook Spencer Reid, all responsible bedtime procedure and absolutely zero funny business.

But your brain is champagne bubbles, pleasantly fizzy and a little devilish, so your fingers mound absently, tracing warm, languid circles along your newly exposed skin.

You watch him shamelessly, delighted when his cheeks flush just enough that he’s forced to look away, trying to convince you both he’s entirely unaffected.

"Don't need it," you murmur, eyes half-lidded and full of affection. "Just need you, thanks."

"Nice try, angel."

You sigh, softening like butter left too close to the stove as his fingertips coast feather-light down your back while coaxing you upright.

He takes his time, smoothing out each bump of your spine vertebrae by vertebrae. C1 all the way to C7. Then, with a sigh of his own, he pulls back, a moment stretched too thin, and reaches for your pajama top.

You take the time to look at him. Really look.

His belt hands low on his hips, leather biting into the fullness of his stomach, and you ache, physically ache, to trace that little line where cotton gives way to skin. His dress shirt, rumpled and sleep-wrinkled, clings across his chest like it wants to be closer too, buttons tugged taut over the breadth of him. 

His tie is gone. Hours ago, probably. Lost to some hallway or couch or whatever innocent piece of furniture was first to fall victim to your pawing hands.

Spencer tugs the pajama top he fished from the drawer down your arms, moving slowly so you don’t lose balance, not that you’d fall when you’re glued to the bed and using him as a human anchor, arms looped around his neck.

“You know,” you begin, lips dragging along his jaw like a love-drunk GPS, “Penelope is so funny.”

"Mhm."

"No, like, funny-funny. She made songs. About people. Little jingles. Did you know Derek has a theme song?”

"I did not."

"Well, he does. And so do you."

Spencer pauses. "Should I ask?"

"No, because you'll be mean about it."

"I'm never mean to you."

You narrow your eyes at him, or try to. They’re a little too heavy to cooperate.

“Spencer. You once corrected my math during sex.”

He shrugs. “In fairness, it was a bold miscalculation.”

He exaggerates.

Spencer had been beneath you, hands clutching greedily at the back of your thighs, his pupils blown so wide you could drown in their inky hunger — hunger he never bothered trying to disguise. You were gasping, half-lost on the exquisite stretch of him inside you, feeling so full it was like your body had molded itself around him, rewriting its shape in his image.

In the hazy gaps between thrusts you murmured a proud little tally into the air. Three times, maybe four. You couldn’t remember, didn’t care. It felt triumphant enough. Spencer, it seemed, had not.

He corrected that the first time wasn’t technically full sex, so the current count stood at two. You could still remember how your palms had flattened on his chest.

He looked up at you with a smirk that said, what? It’s true.

And you kissed him hard enough to shut him up. Not because he was wrong, but because you absolutely refused to let him be right. 

“So you’re admitting you’re mean to me on,” you say, squinting at him as you try to remember the word you were looking for, “occasion.”

Spencer’s lip tugs upward as he puts a hand to his chest. “Slandered in my own bed.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you gasp, cupping his face. “You are the opposite of mean. You’re… you’re nice. You’re, like, aggressively nice. Stupidly nice. But you’re not stupid. You’re so smart. And — you’re the best boyfriend ever. Literally ever.”

“There's a lot of praise tonight, sweetheart.”

You groan, face smooshed right into his chest as embarrassment wars with your lingering bravado. Blame the tequila. Blame your poorly-timed confidence at the bar, when you sidled up to him, inspected him head-to-toe like he was some stranger, and purred, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?

Never mind the fact that you arrived together. Never mind the fact that he had been holding your purse.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

His voice spills out all velvet and sweet enough that your brain happily gives up on forming a coherent rebuttal. Gentle fingers squish your cheeks together, molding your lips into a pout that you’d probably laugh at if he weren’t already leaning in to kiss it. 

And he does, of course, soft lips pursed just slightly, showing you a peek at that deeper, cherry-stained color hidden inside. 

Lips shouldn’t look that edible, should they?

But with him, everything feels bite-worthy, nibble-able, lickable, and utterly unfair in how pretty he is. You constantly remind him, watch as his ears bloom pink, eyes narrowing in an attempt to deflect your adoration, especially when you’re in public.

You know he struggles with it. The receiving. The enormity of being loved without proof, without conditions, without demands. But that’s never scared you off. If anything, it draws you closer, makes you cherish every reminder, every repetition, every soft retelling of the truth he’s still learning how to hold. Because one day, maybe, you’ll say it so many times that even he can’t deny it anymore.

“You know,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as your finger taps his lower lip, voice slurred like honeyed bourbon. “That thing you did earlier, kissin’ my wrist all slow — mm-hmm — was that on purpose?”

A low laugh escapes him as he guides your form onto the bed, sliding down to lay beside you. He props his head on one hand, studying you. 

“On purpose? As opposed to… what? A spontaneous wrist-kissing seizure?”

You wrinkle your nose, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes. 

“Spence, there’s accidents, and then there’s… purposeful stuff, right? Like when someone just does things because they wanna make you feel good. Little things, like kissing wrists, and… remembering your favorite cereal and —” You lose yourself briefly, blinking sleepily. “And it just feels really, really nice when someone does things on purpose for you, ‘cause it means you’re worth noticing, I think. And you do that a lot.”

He smiles, thumb dragging a lazy arc along your cheek. You lean into the touch like a cat, nuzzling closer.

“I love your mind. Drunk Socrates, but cuter,” Spencer teases, pulling you closer so your head rests comfortably against his chest. “You probably won’t remember any of this in the morning,” he adds, “but I will and… I don’t know, noticing you has never been something I try to do.”

He exhales slowly.

“It’s actually harder not to,” he continues, “You know, yesterday you left your book on the counter, spine cracked and bookmarked with a receipt, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what part you’re up to. I actually looked up the chapter summaries to figure it out.” He chuckles under his breath. “You’re just constantly… there. In my head. Background processing, even when I’m thinking about something else.”

You dissolve further against him, the lines between your bodies blurring pleasantly, warmth pooling so deeply that your outlines vanish. You silently plead with yourself to remember this clearly in the morning, and that your expression in daylight won’t too obviously reveal how completely you’ve fallen in love again.

“So what you’re sayin’,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around him, nipping at the slope of his shoulder, “is I’m basically a parasite you can’t get rid of.”

“Exactly,” Spencer says, fingers digging into your side. “Mutually beneficial symbiosis. I’d let you take over my entire life if you wanted. Full infection. No cure needed.”

“Mmm, you’re gonna regret sayin’ that when you wake up stuck with me forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

And you believe him.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanded! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[catiuskaa]

head touches pillow.

sum: after a long day without you, finally able to cuddle against you, when his head touches the pillow, Hyunjin can’t help but dream.

wc: 5.1k

cw: dreams and art and philosophy coded fluff, hyunjin talks (in detail) about a sex dream, handjob, blowjob(?), aftercare.

[★★{📕}★★]

Hyunjin is a dreamer.

A dreamer is a curious creature whose head often floats several inches —or miles— above the ground, tethered to reality only by the occasional text message, meal, or heartbreak. They are powered by equal parts hope, caffeine —chocolate, in this writer’s case—, and the kind of delusion that dares to believe love letters still are a thing, that strangers on trains might be soulmates, and that rainstorms were invented for dramatic monologues, and really, really wet kisses.

Hyunjin blames his imaginative mind for all the late assignments, failed exams and dull evenings he’s had. If it weren’t for his active little mind, in a constant need for dopamine and books that can make one curl in bed, kicking their legs as they giggle and read about romance they can only hope they get to live, maybe he would’ve payed more attention —on a general sense, that is. And on a particular one, maybe then he wouldn’t have lost the bus that day.

But that would mean he wouldn’t have met you.

When a dreamer falls for another dreamer, the universe experiences a brief but noticeable glitch—somewhere, a clock forgets how to tick, a soldier writes poetry, and a star goes slightly off course just to watch what happens next.

“Oh, Larry won’t open the door for you, so I wouldn’t run,” you chuckle. “Mean bus driver, the fella.”

And Hyunjin just blinks, watching the red bus turn smaller as it drives away.

Turning to face you, he swears, changed his brain chemistry. Not that he knows much about brains nor chemistry, but somehow, when his eyes meet yours for the first time, it was as if the air paused mid-breath, unsure whether to exhale or hold onto the moment forever. There was no thunderclap, no dramatic swell of music —just a quiet, electric recognition, like two secret worlds brushing against each other at the edges. In that glance, he saw not just a face, but an entire cosmos made out of late-night musings, unfinished poems, and stardust tucked behind eyelashes, shining in the colour of your eyes. 

It wasn’t love at first sight, not exactly —it was possibility at first glance.

He doesn’t believe it happens often. When an artist such as him —or that’s how he enjoys calling himself when the blinds are down and no one’s looking— somehow falls in love, it’s like those magical moments that movies can’t help but mention. Finding a muse —to him, only you— is the one thing artists hope for in secret, hiding the fire in their hearts between layers of paint and crumbled ink-stained pieces of paper, hoping to never mix love and whorship in the same person, for one cannot hug someone that stands so far away on a pedestal.

Still, he yearns for the words a writer may reach to in order to make sense to the myriad of feelings that simmer in his paint-soaked heart, unable to express them in a way that could suffice.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Hyunjin blinks, lowering his head to face you. He can’t help but smile, his eyes wrinkling at the sides.

“You’d lose all your money, my pearl. I think too much.”

Cuddling more against him as you giggle soothes within the both of you the tension from a long week, days that have passed by without the joy of seeing each other most of the time. But alas, here’s the sweet sweet joy of a long-awaited Friday night.

“C’mon,” you snicker, your hands tracing mindless paterns on his shirtless torso. You make a note to thank the summer weather for that. “Oh, at least tell me about that dream you had a couple nights ago.”

“A… dream?” He frowns in ginger confusion.

“Yeah, remember? I called you… Tuesday morning. You said you had a dream you wanted to tell me,” you grin, resting your chin on his chest.

"Oh, that dream,” his expression turns a little more mischievous. His smile only grows as he watches your expectant eyes. “Fun dream, that was. I remember it alright," he snickers, his tone a little husky. "Every single detail."

You give him a cheeky look, fixing your position to lay down next to him, your head up to face him, resting on your palm. 

“Go on. I’m all ears.”

He can’t help but chuckle, his expression playful. "Oh, are you now?" he teases, his tone low. "You want to hear all the dirty little details?"

“You know I do,” you grin, your other hand cheekily fidgeting with his golden chain.

He takes a deep breath, and he can’t help but lick his lips as he remembers the dream in detail. "So, it was just the two of us," he starts, his voice lower than usual, his gaze flickering over your features. "And we were... well, let's say we were in a bed."

“What do you mean, let’s say?” You grin softly. “Where were we?”

He chuckles, a small, charming smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I don’t really know. I mean… well... you were on top of me, to be specific," his gaze turning a little bit heated. "And I could feel your skin against mine, your hands resting on my chest. And your face was... so close, I could feel your breath on my skin." Pausing, his voice grows huskier. "You looked into my eyes... it was like you were hungry for me."

As your hand couldn’t help but follow a slow path down his chest, your eyes stayed locked to his. There was something dangerously poetic about them, like they’ve been dipped in paint and secrets, and looking into them feels less like making eye contact and more like falling, headfirst, —heart-first—, into a storm you don’t want to escape. He didn’t just look at you—he unravels you. With one glance, he strips away your composure, peels back every practiced word, and leaves you lying there, entirely too aware of how close his mouth is to yours. It almost isn’t fair, the way his gaze lingers—slow, deliberate, like a hand sliding over bare skin —your nails, long, leaving cheeky red streaks over his abs. You could drown in him. You want to. God help you, you want to forget your own name if it mean he’d keep looking at you like that—like you were something he’d dreamt of touching —not just this once, but for lifetimes—, and now that you are here, he has no intention of looking away.

"You leaned in even closer,” he lets out in a short breath, “your lips… against my skin,” he swallows, dry. “I could feel… the heat radiating off your body and... I felt your words as a soft whisper against my ear," he murmured, eyes dark. "You said..." his eyes lock onto yours. "You said, ‘I want you. Now.’” he mumbles, his tone intense.

You licked your lips. God, you could eat him alive. “Then what happened?”

"You started… trailing your lips down my neck, leaving soft, wet kisses. It felt... really, really good."

“Mhh, I like the sound of that,” you smile.

He chuckles softly, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good. It gets better," he simpers, his voice a little deeper than before.

"You then… started making your way down my body, your fingers trailing slowly over my chest, my stomach... and you stopped at my waist and..." he paused, his voice growing quieter as he remembered the rest of the dream.

Your hand started cheekily playing with the waistband of his pijama pants. “And?”

He swallowed dry, his body growing heated as he continues. "And you started... touching me," he lets out, like a  whispered, breathless confession. "Your hands were roaming all over my body, and your touch was soft, but so... possessive." You watch him lick his lips as he stares at you, and it feels like pornography. "Your lips followed your hands. And... you started nibbling on a spot right... here..." he vaguely moves his hand, as if afraid that would crack the heat-tinted atmosphere, and points to a spot just below his collarbone.

Leaning against his neck feels like a meancing act againt his self-restraint, and his heart too. He wants you to do it again. With this newly-found information about himself, Hyunjin can’t wait for you to try and kill him. 

“Oh, this one?” You smirk, stroking it with your nose tantalizingly.

He lets out something quite like gasp, a shaky exhale that sounds like "yeah," he breathes out heavily, his voice tinged with a moan that he’s holding back. He’s already hard. "T-that spot."

Only a fool would miss a chance this exquisit, so you quickly start to work. 

“Keep talking,” you whisper with a smirk.

Hyunjin’s brain threatens to turn off as he closes his eyes, his breathing heavier as you press kisses on his neck. "T-then, um..." he sighs, trying to focus through the sensation of your lips against his skin. "You started... moving lower, your hands and mouth down my chest... and then my stomach..."

He lets out a sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as your hand strokes his abs and your lips leave soft kisses on his neck, dusting his skin with pretty pinky marks. "Mmm, keep doing that," he murmured, his voice a little gruff. "It feels... really, really good."

“Keep talking about the dream, or I’ll stop,” you tease, smirking.

Fuck. Either he’s dreaming again, and today is only Thursday or he’s gotta be the luckiest man on Earth, he thinks, letting out a soft, breathy chuckle —a moan, if you squint your ears—, his eyes opening slightly. "Fine, fine... but keep going," he mumbles weakly, his tone laced with a hint of huskiness. "You were moving lower... and lower... and then... you reached my waist." His throat bobs, and you kiss it. He wants to cry. The thought of you stopping almost makes him, but he keeps talking, just like you asked. "You pulled my pants off, leaving me in my boxers," the dream seems almost tangible in the dark pools of his eyes. He can almost taste it, so he licks his lips again, one of his hand fisting the sheets, the other holding you close by your waist, his fingers quickly settling beneath your shirt where you hope he’ll always stay.

"I remember how… your fingers trailed over my thigh," he murmurs softly. "Gentle, but… firm…”

And so you press wet kisses down his chest, happily following the innocent little words that leave his lips —lips you hadn’t want to kiss this bad since, at least, last Friday, but you refrain just to keep listening to him— until you can reach his thigh with your hand. 

Your eyes move to his. Soft, wide, sly. “Like this?”

Yes. No. He’s going to blow in milliseconds. Scratch all that, you have to be a dream. Reality hasn’t felt this good since someone put butter in popcorn. Since he figured out color theory to some extent. He lets out a soft gasp, his breathing quickening. 

"Yes,” he almost moans, “exactly like that."

His hand grips the bedsheet like the poor thing could ever keep him tethered to how your mouth lingers on his collarbone. If this is a dream and he wakes up, he’s catching the first bus and knocking your door of its hinges with the only objective of doing very bad things to you. But when your kisses slow down in intensity, and your hands threaten to leave his blushed skin, he keeps talking. This is real, and if you stop, he’ll start begging. 

"You started kissing," he pants out, "kissing… down my thigh... and then you… started moving... higher."

He pauses, his breathing growing heavier as the next part of the dream unveils in his mind. Hyunjin needs you to keep touching him. "You were right between my legs, your lips just... barely against my skin,” his eyes flutter open, and he has the cutest blush all over his face. You’re going to eat him.

“T-then you… took me in your mouth," he gasps softly, his eyes closing again. "I remember how your tongue felt, how your lips felt-" He winces, because the memory and your touch alone are making him really hard.

He can’t do this. This feels too good. He’s not going to be able to let you go on Sunday afternoon. But then your hand travels down his chest and beneath his blue-striped pj’s, and he’s dead. 

“Keep talking, love,” you grin, kissing his chest as you start stroking him, moving your hand up and down.

He lets out a low moan, his body involuntarily bucking against your touch. "A-ah... I'm... trying..." he whines quietly, his voice growing huskier by the second. "Y-You were... um-" He trails off, now rendered unable to form a coherent thought, the sensation of your touch scrambling his brain.

"You... you were moving... up and down," Hyunjin tries to speak, but his words are cut off by a moan. His breathing is heavy and his chest rieses and falls rapidly. He can’t even look at you anymore; his eyes are shut tight, his head pressed against the pillow, blushing all over as he squirms underneath you.

"I... I don't...don't know how much...longer I can...can keep doing this," he admits in a low, ragged voice. "I... I need..." he attempts to say something, but the words just don’t come out. "Please, I… I need..." he pleads softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slows down. You have the desperate need to fuck him senseless. Desperate, submissive Hyunjin is a rare sight, and you want to cover him up in pink hickeys. 

“The dream, love. Keep talking, mhh?”

He lets out a low, soft whine as your hand slows down, his eyes clenched shut. "Oh…a-ah, okay," he whispers, trying to regain his composure. The feeling of your touch is driving him crazy, but he knows he has to stay focused, because this feels too good to stop now. 

"You were... you were moving so... so slowly, and... and it was driving me insane." His eyes are like crescent moons, cheeky drops of sweat shining on his forehead, and on his pink-coloured chest. "I... I wanted more... but you were teasing me so much" he murmurs, his voice growing more desperate by the second. "I wanted to... grab you and... and just-" He groans in frustration, unable to find the words. "I wanted... I needed..." he chokes out, whimpering, struggling through the fog of pleasure. "God... it's so hard to think..."

Teasing him comes off naturally. Just looking at him makes you want to lean and bite his cheek. Instead you snicker, smirking. 

“Oh, poor baby. Feel so good, he can’t even think.”

Surely, you weren’t expecting the embarrassingly needy whine he lets out, his face flushed with pleasure. "Y-Yes," he murmurs softly, his arm moving to cover his eyes and how his blush turns deeper in colour, his voice heavy with desire. "A-and... and it's all your fault."

God. Your legs would give out if you were standing. His muscles flex as he tries to hide his face, kind of, and the fact that you know he’s far too gone to be consciously showing off only makes you hornier. Pleasure looks so good on Hyunjin, you can’t help but need more, as you start stroking him slightly faster. “That’s a pity,” you whisper with a smile. “Feels good, yeah?”

He groans, his hips instinctively bucking against your touch. "Y-Yeah," he breathes out weakly, his voice strained. "It feels... so good."

“Wonderful,” you grin, eyes so dark Hyunjin believes they might’ve just turned black. “Keep talking, then, love. What happened next?”

His body dares to tremble with pleasure as you continue, his breathing ragged and uneven. "You..." he trails off, trying to find the words to speak. "You... moved your mo.. a-ah, mouth away... but you... oh, God, y-you replaced it with..." he lets out a moan, his breath hitching as you continue your slow ministrations, “you replaced it with your hand... and..." He swallows hard, trying to find the words through the pleasure, "a-and you were... slow... and gentle..." he manages to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just like this?” you whisper too.

The feeling of your touch is driving him wild. 

"Yes," he whimpers, almost sheepishly. "Just... just like that."

He’s struggling to keep his mind clear, the pleasure almost overwhelming him. "Please..." he whines, his voice hoarse and needy. "I need... I need..."

Your eyes look into his, but you only find dark tones of brown that scream at you to keep going. “Focus, love,” you smile. “The dream, mhh?”

He struggles to speak, already feeling like it’s hard to think straight. "Y-You... you started to... speed up..." he whispers, his voice raw with desire. "And... and it felt so... so good,” he breathes heavily, “a-and then, you… ” He groans softly, his whole body trembling as he envisions the scene play out in his mind once more. "Y-You... you lowered yourself onto me..." he blinks slowly, his eyes locking onto yours, his voice heavy with lust. "And... and it felt... so good... so perfect..."

He inhales sharply, his heart feeling like it might just leap out of his chest. "You... you started... moving slowly... and... and I-" He lets out a low, guttural moan, his body arching towards your touch instinctively. "God... it feels... so good... so good... I can't think straight... I-I need you... I need you, flower... please…”

You kiss his thigh, to which he lets out a soft moan at the feel of your kiss, his body trembling with need. You’re going to cave, you know you will, but watching him like this is an addiction you don’t want to let go off just yet. “Does the dream keep going too long?”

"N-Not much longer," he sighs weakly, his voice strained with desire. "I am... I w-was so close... I-" He pants, the memory of the dream playing out in his mind. "I was so... I was so close to..." he confesses, his voice thick with lust. "But just before I could... you... you stopped."

And almost cheekily, your hand stopped, teasing. “I… edged you?”

Hyunjin is pretty sure he’s dead at this point. His body trembles, pliant and undone, eyes glassy with surrender as he floats deeper into that delicious haze —where time blurs and sensation reigns. Every word from you felt like silk and command wrapped in fire, and he clings to it like a lifeline, like prayer. His voice is barely a whisper now, rough with need, as he chokes out, "N-no… please, flower." Not out of pride, but desperation —because in this state, he isn’t thinking, only feeling, and everything he feels is you. Every nerve begs to be touched, praised, claimed—each second without your hands, your voice, your rhythm, feels like air slipping through his lungs. He’s gone, truly gone, and the only thing tethering him to reality is the gravity of your control and the aching, raw hunger to please keep going.

You coo at him, leaning against him to kissing his cheek, “You’re doing so good, love. Keep going, for me?” He nods softly, and you smile, softly pressing your lips against his. 

“And then?” You smile, resuming your slow pace with your hand.

His body responds immediately, his back arching as he let out a low moan. "Y-You..." he fails to speak, his words lost in a pool of desire. "You... you kept going... and... and it was so... s’good... but it was... frustrating... to be so... close... but not... not quite there yet..."

His body is shaking with need, his breath coming in short gasps as he struggles to speak. "Please," he begs softly, his voice a mix between a whine and a whisper. "Please... I need you… please… make me-"

Your tongue against his length weakens him in ways he never thought possible before, and when he finds your eyes glued to his, he’s sure his eyes tear up in pleasure. 

“Keep talking, love.”

He lets out a strangled moan. "Oh... oh god..." he moans again, his voice broken by pleasure. "T-too good... I… it's so... hard to... to keep… speaking..."

“C’mon, love,” you smirk. “You want me to keep going, don’t you? You just have to keep talking about the dream.”

He’s wrecked—gasping, trembling, eyes glazed as he blinks down at you like he can’t remember how to exist without your touch. "Yes... yes... please... don't stop..." he mumbles, his voice strained with need. "The dream, I'll... I'll keep talking..."

Hyunjin takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself as so to keep on talking. "So...  you k-kept going... and... and I was so close... so close... but it wasn't enough..." He sweats and blushes with need, his mind blurry as he struggles to focus on the words. "I was… I couldn't... couldn't handle it any longer...”

His toned body arches against you as he feels himself nearing the edge. "Please... please... I need you, flower... I need you so badly..." he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please... please, I can't take it anymore..."

You’re caving. You want to see him come. “How did the dream end, love?”

He lets out a strangled moan as you start kissing him, the touch of your lips sending sparks of pleasure through his body. "I... I don't...I don't remember..." he whines, his voice thick. "It all gets... it gets too hazy... I just remember feeling too... too pent up... too needy..."

“And then you woke up?”

He nods, a low, shaky laugh escaping his lips. "Yeah... I woke up... and I was so... so frustrated," he pants, his voice heavy with the echo of unfulfilled desire.

You blink. The smirk that takes over your lips makes Hyunjin shiver. “Love, did you… relieve yourself… thinking about me that morning?” 

His cheeks grow hotter, his expression turning more sheepish. "Yes... I… I did," he confesses in a hushed tone. "I couldn't help it... you were all I could think about." The memory of that morning is still vivid in his mind. "I was thinking about you... your touch... your voice... your body..." he murmurs, his voice growing huskier with every word.

“And you were touching yourself, just like this?”

He can’t help but moan at your words, his body responding instinctively to the mention of what he has done. He feels like he has been caught, and the way you’re looking at him threatens to send him over the edge. "Yes... just like this..." he nods, gulping. "I was... imagining your hands on me... just like this… and I... I couldn't stop thinking about you... thinking about what you would do to me..." he admits, his voice reeling in desire, almost rolling off his tongue. 

Mesmerized, you speed up, watching him squirm and gasp, his body arching towardsyour touch as the pleasure intensifies. "Oh... oh god... yes, yes..." he moans, his eyes closing tightly as he feels himself getting closer and closer. "Don't…” He groans softly, his hand gripping the bedsheets again. "Please... please, I can't... I can't hold back any longer..." he pleads, his voice sunken in sheer pleasure. 

“Tell me, love. Where you thinking about that when you called me that day?”

He swallows hard, his breath coming in short gasps as he remembered the memory. "Y-Yes," he managed to say, his voice ragged with desire. "I... I couldn't help it... you... your voice… it brought e-everything back... a-and I... I tried to keep my composure... but I couldn't... I couldn't keep it together..."

“What did you want to do to me, mhh?”

His body almost dares to tremble with need as he remembered the thoughts he had. Hyunjin is shaking, flushed and helpless, lost so deep in the haze he barely knows his own name —just yours. His fingers curl like he’s trying to hold onto reality, but all that comes out from his lips isa desperate, wrecked, tone, as he follows your command. "I... I wanted to touch you... to hold you... to feel you against me... to hear you moan..." he whines, his voice rough with need. "I wanted you so badly... so badly, it was driving me insane."

His breathing turns erratic. He’s going to come, but he wants to make you happy. He wants to hear you allow him. 

"I couldn't... couldn't get you out of my head... I just wanted to... to do things to you..." he gasps, his words fading into the air as he loses himself in the memories. "I wanted to... to feel you... to taste you... to hear you moan my name..."

His lips part around a soft, broken sound, eyes barely open, glazed with need and devotion. He’s trembling under your hands, breath shallow, voice cracked as he whispers, "I wanted... I wanted you so bad... I couldn't focus on anything else... I could only think about you... about your touch... about how good it felt when you-" He gasped, cutting himself off as the memory flared back up, leaving him breathless. "God... I could barely... barely concentrate on anything else... though I was… going crazy..."

He lets out a low, shaky moan, his body trembling uncontrollably as the waves of pleasure consume him. "That's... that's why it was so hard... so hard..." he whimpers, his words interrupted by soft gasps as he felt himself teetering on the edge. "It was so hard to... to talk... to talk to you... and not... not think about... a-about…!”

His whole body tenses beneath you, a helpless shudder rolling through him as the pressure builds past the point of return. His fingers twist in the sheets —desperate, frantic—, trying to hold onto something solid while the rest of him falls apart. Then he lets out a moan, deep and broken, the kind that seems to rise straight from his soul, and you take him into your mouth fully, slowly, as if savoring the moment just as much as he is unraveling in it. And when he finally comes —spilling over with a cry that sounds half like your name, half like prayer— you don’t flinch. You stay, mouth warm, accepting, steady, anchoring him as he shakes and gasps and loses himself entirely in you. You feel the way he melts, undone and wrecked and utterly yours, and you don’t let go until his body stops trembling, until he’s all quiet panting and reverent touch, eyes dazed, still somewhere between the high and the afterglow.

His mind goes blank for a moment as the intensity of the sensation overwhelms him. As he slowly comes back down to Earth, he looks down at you with a dazed expression on his face, his breathing ragged and labored. "Y-You..." he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Y-You're... God, flower, I missed you.."

You merely swallow, licking your lips and smile. “I missed you too, love.”

His body still trembles with the aftermath of his climax. You cuddle against him, fixing his hair, kissing his temple with a smile. 

“Want me to fetch a damp towel, love?” you whisper. “I know you don’t like sleeping all sweaty.”

Watching him nod, soft and dazed, like his whole body has finally let go, you smile and brush a hand over his cheek. He lets out a big, shuddering sigh —the kind that seemed to empty every last bit of tension from his chest— and his eyes flutter shut, peaceful in that quiet, golden moment. You move and lean down to kiss him —slow, lingering. He kisses you back with a hum, too blissed-out to speak, but full of everything he wants to say. With one last stroke of your thumb across his jaw, you slip away for a moment, careful not to wake him from the soft place he’s landed in.

When you come back with the damp towel, he’s still lying there, loose-limbed and beautiful, the rise and fall of his chest steady, calm. You lean beside him, murmuring something gentle as you began to clean him up, slow and careful, like a ritual. He barely moves—just lets you care for him, eyes fluttering open now and then to meet mine with that same look he always gives you in these moments: trust, tenderness, and something so deep you’re not quite sure it has a name. not in any language you know, at least. 

We speak of the experience of an encounter as that which can appear before us without our expecting it. It can change our course, it can transform us. It is the novelty that happens to us and then inhabits us. Two paths that cross. Two people that miss the bus at the same time.

What happens when we fall in love? Is it simply a matter of wanting what we don't have, or of wanting it because it seems forbidden? We consider it more interesting to think of it as a set of forces united in a singularity that challenges us, that summons us. One of those things that make us fall in love with someone. In Hyunjin’s case, the colour of your eyes could haunt him in his sleep, and he would forever be grateful for it. Or your smile, and how it lights up the room.

A smile is something that happens between two people. It is a gesture that begins and ends in the gaze of the other, of the person who may feel trapped, invoked, questioned, stolen by that smile. It does not belong to someone. It does not belong to its owner, but is a ‘between’ the two. It takes place in a relationship of one with the other. There is something in that smile that unites, in the same group, everything that has to do with us. Like in that moment when one is frightened and sees one's life flash before one's eyes, only in this case, one sees the life we would have with the person in front of us, reflected in the brightness of their irises.

Who are we afterwards? Are we the same? What happens inside us when we encounter forces, affinities, nuances, tones, and colours that we never expected, but which become everything we desire? It is a question of thinking about the displacement that occurs. When love crosses us, there is a swaying from side to side, a foreshadowing of the transformation to come when these two people collide. This love is only possible because of the tension that makes it unsolvable: a tension between who we are and who we are not, between presence and absence. An encounter from which we emerge changed.

Or not. Maybe the world still spins as usual —but for Hyunjin, with you by his side, it hums in a different key. One composed entirely of music, comfort, and dreams he no longer has to imagine alone.

And as his head touches the pillow —the cold side, after flipping it around—, he passes his arm over your waist and pulls you closer.  

Tomorrow, Saturday morning, he will make sure to pay you back, but right now, Hyunjin is sure.

He loves Friday nights.

[★★{📕}★★]

~kats, who’s new vocal stim is from sade’s kiss of life, “there must’ve been an angel by my side.” (and yes, I am aware that today isn't Friday. sue me)

catiuskaa, june 2025 ©

permanent taglist! @svckrpvnch @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @lyramundana @cheeksung

[multi-fandom-imagine]

If your requests are still open may I request Adam, Alastor or Lucifer doesn't matter which taking care of sick reader? I'm sick rn, like can't breath though my nose and sore throat all that jazz

A/n: I AM SOERY FOR MISSING THIS! Tumblr never lets me know! I hope you feel better!

Adam:

"Shouldn't you be resting? Didn't I order you get someone else to do this shit?!" Adam didn't mean to snap but you were sick and yet here you were working.

Wrinkling his nose, he took a step towards you then lifted you onto his shoulders. A small squeak left your lips as the angel carried you off towards his room.

"Adam" you let out a small cough, too weak to struggle. "Put me down! I have to work"

Nearly tossing you on the bed, you let a groan burying your face into his pillow as he slipped into next to the spot next to you.

"Didn't you hear me? Someone else can do it." He muttered into your neck. "Now get some sleep, when you wake up I'll get someone to bring you some shit to make you feel better."

Alastor:

Stopping his show, Alastor slowly made his way towards the sound of the constant coughing. Gripping his cane tightly the demon opened his mouth until he saw who it was. It was a pathetic sight really.

You curled up into a small ball coughing away, tissues all around you. He could see shivers wracking your body.

'Idiot, he told you not to stay out, he told you this would happen.'

Part of him wanted to brag about it, to gloat to you but how could he really gloat to someone he...cared about. { that was something he was still getting used too }

Now hovering about you, Alastor let out a dramatic sigh he lifted you up in his arms. "Let's go so you can be back in tiptop shape."

Groaning, you nuzzled into his chest as you let out another cough. "T...thank you." Your voice raspy as your eyes slipped closed.

"Oh dear, you do not have to thank me."

Lucifer

The moment you mentioned to Lucifer that you weren't feeling well the man whisked you away to the bedroom. He did his best to make you as comfortable as possible, he couldn't have the one he loved being sick.

Sitting on the bed, he pouted fixing the cold press on your head. You were still feeling warm, he hated that, he hated seeing you sick.

Flinching from your cough, he sat down on the edge of the bed holding your hand gently. "Do you need anything to eat? Drink?....how about another blanket?"

Letting out a weak laugh, you did your best to give him a smile as you squeezed his hand gently. "Can you cuddle me?"

Lucifer's eyes went wide for a moment though his gaze softened as he nodded his head. "Anything for you."

[tobiosbbyghorl]

Like Father, like Son | yjw

The soft chime of your phone alarm marked the beginning of a very special day: your baby boy, Juwon, had just reached 100 days old.

“One hundred days of pure sunshine,” you whispered, brushing your fingertips against Juwon’s chubby cheek as he blinked awake in his crib.

Jungwon appeared behind you, already dressed and carrying the tiny blue shorts you’d picked out the night before. “You ready for the photoshoot, little bear?” he cooed, lifting his son who looked up at him with sleepy eyes—eyes that mirrored Jungwon’s exactly. Same soft brown, same shape. Even the little wrinkle between his brows when he was curious was Jungwon through and through.

“He really is your twin,” you muttered with a grin, unable to stop yourself from booping Juwon’s button nose. “Copy-paste.”

Jungwon laughed, “Except for his arm rolls. That’s definitely you.”

You gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? These arm rolls are royalty.”

The photoshoot setup in your sunlit living room was simple but cozy—cream blankets, a plush cloud pillow, and the star of the day dressed in nothing but soft blue shorts and a knit hat with little bear ears on it. He sat in the center, legs spread like a tiny prince ruling his kingdom of fluff.

“Okay, Juwon,” Jungwon said from behind the camera. “Show us your 10,000 percent cuteness.”

And somehow, he did.

With his arms flailing and a gummy smile blooming across his face, Juwon giggled, a little snort escaping as he wobbled slightly forward, supported by one of the plush pillows. His baby rolls jiggled with every movement—his thighs were like mini marshmallows, his arms adorned with four perfect creases, his belly poking out like he was proud of it.

Click. Click. Click.

You were behind Jungwon now, your chin resting on his shoulder, the two of you whispering little praises at your baby like he was the most precious being to ever exist.

“Can you believe he’s ours?” you murmured, voice thick with awe.

Jungwon turned slightly to kiss your temple. “I fall in love with him more every day.”

“Same,” you whispered, your heart full. “And with you too.”

Suddenly, Juwon let out a squeaky laugh that made you both melt right there on the floor.

“That’s it,” Jungwon said, lowering the camera and scooping Juwon into his arms. “I can’t take it anymore. He’s too cute. We need another one.”

You raised a brow, but your smile gave you away. “Oh really? That fast?”

Jungwon grinned, placing a kiss on Juwon’s chubby cheek. “Have you seen him? Look at this face. Look at these arms. I want ten of him.”

You shook your head, laughing, and wrapped your arms around your boys. The three of you huddled close, Juwon babbling between you like he had stories to tell already. And maybe he did—about warmth, and love, and sleepy afternoon cuddles.

Because on his 100th day, Juwon reached maximum cuteness—and your hearts had never been so full.

©️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona-huh

[esote-rika]

Kiss it Better | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader Category: FLUFF Summary: You trip and bruise your knees, but Spencer is there to kiss everything better Content: 1k words, established relationship, Crime and Punishment spoilers??? fluff galore A/N: INCREDIBLY self indulgent—this is a real life story, except I didn't have a Spencer Reid to help me out. My knees are still bruised. It hurts to walk. Dedicated to @darkmatilda because she's a fellow Rodya girlie and she said something that made me laugh so I put it in the fic. Cute lil fluff before I go MIA <3

“It's your fault.”

“Mine? How on earth are your bruised knees my fault?”

“I was reading your book when I tripped.”

He laughs, cradling your legs on his lap as he holds the ice packs to your aching knees, “Sounds like you shouldn't have been reading while walking then, angel.”

“But it was beginning to get interesting!”

“Then it's Dostoevsky's fault for writing something so intriguing.”

“Don't pin this on that dead man, Spencer,” you narrow your eyes, attempting to glare, but it all comes across adorable. You squirm a little, as if that would help with your accusations and make him take you seriously, “You gave me the book.”

“Not with the intention to hurt you!” He's smiling as he holds your legs and stills your movements. Ever patient. Ever warm. You’d melt if you weren’t in so much pain right now and lavish him with kisses. Thank you, you’d murmur. Unfortunately, your tumble has put you in a petty mood. But that’s okay, he knows how to handle that too.

“Are you sure? Because you know it would have hurt me one way or another,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest, “Not physically like this, but I've heard you talk about it like it’s the height of literature so I know it would be—” 

“I’m of the opinion that it is the height of literature, angel.”

“— it would be—” you press on, shooting an annoyed look his way,  “—an emotional rollercoaster. It would have hurt my feelings. Just wasn't expecting it to give me bruised knees and a twisted ankle on top of the emotional damage.”

He has to hand it to you sometimes, you can be so dedicated to your petulance around him. Only around him. With everyone else, you’re so dependable and calm, but those walls collapse around his company, sweetening into something so charmingly vulnerable, so he nurtures the petulant pouting all the same. Coaxes it from the cracks of your typically put together demeanor with his own teasing words.

“Yeah, that was quite a fall,” he grins, softly, to cushion the playful sharpness of your complaints, “You almost became Rodya's third victim, huh?”

“Are you joking?” you wave at the ice packs balanced on your knees, sputtering in indignation, “I’m going to be immobile for the rest of the day and you're joking?”

“Indeed I am. It is well known that humor, more than anything else in the human make-up, can afford an aloofness and an ability to rise above any situation, even if only for a few seconds.” 

Your jaw drops, “I can't believe you're quoting Frankl at me. I'm sitting in excruciating pain, and you're making a joke and giving me a lecture. Low blow, baby, even for you.”

“I know, I know, angel, I'm sorry.” he murmurs, soothing over the wrinkles he’d deliberately caused. Grinning because he loves this. Loves you. Oh, he loves you so much, “No more European writers. I'll get you all the ice cream and chocolate you need, and then we'll stay inside all day to cuddle, how's that sound?”

“But I want to know what happens to Raskolnikov.”

He laughs, “All right, then I'll throw in a couple of chapters of Crime and Punishment.”

“While we cuddle?”

“Mhm.”

“You'll read for me?” the loveliest eyes peek up at him from beneath fluttering lashes. You know you don’t need to do that, he wouldn’t say no to you, but it’s part of the fun.

“Yes, angel.” He'll read for you anytime, helping you feel better is just an extra incentive. “Chocolates and cuddles and a good book.”

“That's it? Aren't you forgetting something? What happened to that eidetic memory?”

He frowns, wondering what else it is he forgot in his arsenal of things to help you feel better. He wonders if this is just banter, worries that he did actually forget something important.

“You have to kiss them better, genius.”

Ah. Both. How could he be so foolish? His face breaks into a smile. Without breaking eye contact, he sets aside the ice packs, and bends your legs up at an angle so he could have an easier time reaching it. Careful, always so careful but especially now from your bruises. Beneath all teasing, he knows you’re in genuine pain.

Slowly, achingly sweet, he brushes his lips over the bruised knee, the barest caress, warm lips against chilled skin. You suppress a shudder. He moves his lips up to your thigh delicately, teasingly. It's gone before the gasp leaves your lips, though that one brief second sends goosebumps crawling up your skin.

He moves to your other knee, touching his lips to the rapidly blooming purples on your skin, before finally pulling away.

“Better?”

“Much,” you nod, scooting over the couch to get closer to him. His body adjusts around yours in the cramped space, joints and angles poking into your soft, curling limbs. Tangled mess, but you love it all the same. You find yourself somehow nestled between his thighs, your head tucked beneath his chin. He holds the book with one hand, while the other is cupped at your knee, balancing the ice pack and drawing mindless circles over your skin. 

“What chapter shall I read?”

“Part one, chapter six. But Spence?”

“Yes, angel?”

“You owe me more kisses.”

Not that you need to ask, but okay. His lips land on your temple automatically, “Always a pleasure.” he mumbles, breathing in the familiar, soothing scent of your hair, “But may I know why?”

“You said I’d be Rodya's third victim,” you reply, remembering the details of the book and what he’d said earlier, “He was only planning to kill that old lady so… he kills more?”

There’s a pause, before he laughs, “That's a spoiler.”

“Book's been out for centuries,” you roll your eyes, “And yes, that's a spoiler, but one that you unintentionally gave me!”

“I'm sorry,” he laughs, putting down the book to cup your chin. Turning your face to him, he regards you with large brown eyes that seem to dance with love, “I guess you're right, I do owe you more kisses.” he says, before finally kissing your lips.

[soombee]

𖠋 anton lee as your cutie boyfriend !! ; headcannons ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

chanyoung x the five love languages :3

pairing ; lee chanyoung (anton) x reader

contents ; gn ! reader (period mentioned but u can ignore that if u want) , pet names , so much love (LOL) , not proofread ! :c

an ; he’s so boyfriend bruh im crying 😢😢😢 loveyouantonitoni , i was giggling when i made this hehehehhe

publish date ; dec 6, 2024

⟢ you love how you don’t have to ask him for anything. he will always know what you want, what you need. he understands all of your languages fluently, you will never ever have to spend your whole lifetime translating your soul for someone who refuses to understand your heart.

( written content under cut )

physical touch ᰔᩚ

꩜ bf ! anton who’s lifeline is your skin, always looking for an opportunity to stay close to you.

꩜ bf ! anton who’s absolutely in love with holding your waist

꩜ bf ! anton who always keeps a hand on your thigh while he drives, squeezing it occasionally, playfully rubbing circles on your skin

꩜ bf ! anton who pulls you into his lap when he’s sitting, wrapping his arms around your waist (as he watches tv on the couch, as he plays games with seunghan, it doesn’t matter)

꩜ bf ! anton who gives massages whenever you’re sore, always ready to ease your tension (and vice versa)

꩜ bf ! anton who can’t resist tickling you, even though he jumps when you even touch his sides

꩜ bf ! anton who strokes your arm ans rests his head on your shoulder in quiet moments

꩜ bf ! anton who fidgets with your hands when he’s nervous. who lets you, and only you, play with his face and luscious locks (as he calls it)

꩜ bf ! anton who loves when you do his skincare routine or put his hair in little pigtails (maybe both?)

꩜ bf ! anton who will carry you bridal style to the bedroom if you tease him a bit too much..

꩜ bf ! anton who dances with you in the middle of the night to slow love songs, pulling you close and dipping you into the softest of kisses

꩜ bf ! anton who teaches you his group’s choreography, placing his hands gently on your hips and hands to guide you

꩜ bf ! anton who puts your legs on his lap when you’re sitting together

꩜ bf ! anton who slithers his hand under your shirt as you both fall asleep in each other’s presence

꩜ bf ! anton who always holds your hand, no matter what—sweaty palms? don’t care. busy? you have another hand. you need two hands? his other hand is free.

꩜ bf ! anton who, if you’re cuddling and he’s uncomfortable, will lift and readjust you with ease, ensuring you’re still comfortable

꩜ bf ! anton hugs you endlessly, until his cologne clings to your skin, until he makes an imprint on your skin

acts of service .☘︎ ݁

꩜ bf ! anton who fixes your clothes when he notices they’re misplaced or wrinkled, always making sure you look your best

꩜ bf ! anton who ties your shoes for you, even if it means dirtying his knee (you’d feel bad) (he doesn’t care)

꩜ bf ! anton who feeds you his food on dates because he catches you staring at his plate

꩜ bf ! anton who gently wipes your face with tissues, whether it’s messy from food or streaked with tears

꩜ bf ! anton who carries pads or tampons with him just in case you’re caught off guard (stupid periods)

꩜ bf ! anton who offers to paint your nails when he notices they’re chipped, making them perfect again

꩜ bf ! anton who keeps a lint roller in his car because he knows how much you hate lint on your clothes

꩜ bf ! anton who carries you from the beach to clean the sand off your feet, knowing how much stepping on wet sand irritates you

꩜ bf ! anton who plans self care nights with matching pajamas, face masks, and doing each other’s skincare routines

꩜ bf ! anton who takes care of you when you’re sick, drunk, or just feeling down, because loving you is his favorite thing to do

words of affirmation ⋆｡°•☁︎

꩜ bf ! anton who will always want to know how you feel, how you’re doing, and loves getting updates about your day

꩜ bf ! anton who sends you random paragraphs while you’re asleep, pouring his thoughts into messages you’ll wake up to

꩜ bf ! anton who loves to writes silly love letters when you’re away, hiding them in your jacket pockets for you to find later

꩜ bf ! anton who calls you beautiful, the love of his life, his wife, his everything—making sure you always feel adored

꩜ bf ! anton who is soft spoken but intentional, leaving no room for doubt about how much he loves and cherishes you

꩜ bf ! anton who craves long, intimate talks in the dead of night, with only your voice and soft music filling the air

- but i’m falling behind. “i’m still so proud of you, my yn”

- do you still love me? “always in all ways”

- i did it!!! “i knew you could do it!”

- did you see that, toni?! “that’s my baby”

- you deserve more than me.. “you complete me”

- i look so ugly today.. “the presence of you give my butterflies”

- i hope you have fun w riize today!! don’t worry about texting me :) “don’t be ridiculous, i’ll update you, baby”

gift giving / receiving 𝜗𝜚

꩜ bf ! anton who loves giving you gifts, whether they’re expensive or handmade, because he loves spoiling you

꩜ bf ! anton who surprises you with two jellycats every week—one resembling you and the other him—because you casually mentioned wanting one

꩜ bf ! anton who immediately says, “okay, let’s go,” when a new movie you’ve been waiting for is released, happily paying for tickets

꩜ bf ! anton who fully supports your new collection, making sure to contribute whenever he can (smiskis, sonny angels, legos, etc)

꩜ bf ! anton who snoops through your tiktok reposts to find things he can buy or create just to make you smile

꩜ bf ! anton who makes pipe cleaner versions of your favorite flowers, even though they’re slightly (noticeably) wonky

꩜ bf ! anton who turns your polaroid obsession into a reason to make you a custom journal filled with your memories

꩜ bf ! anton who isn’t great at arts and crafts but always tries, just to see your radiant smile and flushed cheeks that he loves so much

꩜ bf ! anton who cherishes the gifts you give him just as much, turning it into an unspoken little competition between you two

꩜ bf ! anton who lights up and lifts you up in the air when you surprise him with the shoes he’s been wanting for months

꩜ bf ! anton who treasures the little things, like the seashell you found and thought of him

꩜ bf ! anton who proudly wears the white tee you transformed with pink lipstick kisses, saying it’s his favorite shirt

꩜ bf ! anton who notices the way you handpick his favorite candies just because they’re his favorite color

꩜ bf ! anton who doesn’t care about any material thing because to him, you’re the greatest gift he’s ever received

quality time 𖤐

꩜ bf ! anton who doesn’t care whether you go out or stay in; he just wants to bask in your presence

꩜ bf ! anton who refuses to let you spend money on him because your company is all he ever needs in life

꩜ bf ! anton who will follow you anywhere—even if he’s sore from practice—because being with you is worth the cramps

꩜ bf ! anton who stays mentally present, writing down random plans in your shared calendar and putting his phone away to focus on you

꩜ bf ! anton who never sees you as needy and never complains about the time you spend together, only that there isn’t enough time in the year

꩜ bf ! anton who drags you along to his photoshoots, shoots, and backstage moments, just to have you nearby

꩜ bf ! anton who will always ask if you want to run errands with him, knowing your answer is (and will always be) yes

꩜ bf ! anton who loves random facetimes, sleep calls, and mornings spent getting ready together

꩜ bf ! anton who “helps” you in the kitchen but really just makes a mess and watches you with heart eyes, his drool pooling below him

꩜ bf ! anton who craves the simplest forms of intimacy: skin to skin, soft words, and just being near each other

purely © soombee ‘s work ― all rights reserved !! please refrain from copying , stealing , or translating my work ( w/o permission ) thanku!

taglist (open) ! @1starqi

[nonranghaes]

"nononono--i'm still sweaty! i'm sweaty! i was at the gym and didn't get to shower!"

changbin ducks underneath you trying to kiss him, as much as he hates doing so, to try and make a beeline to the bathroom. he drops his gym bag in the process and nearly trips over it kicking it against the wall, and it's unfortunately the exact thing you need to latch onto him and press a quick kiss against his cheek.

"i know," you say, wrinkling your nose a bit (he did warn you, after all: he's stinky). "i just..." he feels the way your hands relax at his hips, the way you pull away him after a moment. "i dunno. i missed you today."

it's not much, but it's all he needs to know something is up. he stops, turning to look at you properly as he sees the way your smile doesn't reach your eyes. you usually try to sneak a kiss when he gets home, and sometimes it does turn into this playful game of him trying to set his things down while you tease him... but there's something in the way you flex your fingers a little. the way you hug yourself a second later, a little tighter than normal, and the way your gaze drifts... he frowns. between running errands, visiting people, being at the gym... he hasn't really had a chance to see or talk to you at all today.

so he steps over to you, leaning so that he can kiss your forehead for now. "i'll be quick, so we can cuddle after." he says, hands resting on your biceps. "i missed you, too."

and that's all you needed to hear to put the light back in your eyes as you look at him again, reassured. ah. it's one of those days, isn't it? changbin understands. he'll just have to cuddle with you extra hard after his shower and say all the sappy things he's been holding inside. just to remind you of how much he adores you.

[bookworrm1999]

How Far Away? Part 1

Caleb x Mc Fanfiction

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she’s pregnant.

She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

AO3

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Epilogue

Caleb and you usually get along quite well. Ribbing each other, demanding little favors, holding things hostage until the other breaks down in laughter as you keep them in suspense.

This was not one of those days though. He was set to leave tomorrow but all of your emotions about him leaving for 4 months, leaving you behind again with no communication.

It was too much.

You should be better than this, you should be able to just tell him like an adult. But something about Caleb always brought out the dependency in you.

He was the one who danced around the conversation about finalizing what your relationship was.

He was worse than you in this.

So instead of following him to the living room to help him make breakfast one last time before he leaves. You stayed in bed, you didn’t make a peep when he pulled away from cuddling you to go out.

“Baby?” Caleb brushed your hair back but you didn’t answer. Pretending to still be dead asleep.

He sighed affectionately and kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving the room.

Opening your eyes to stare out the window, you let a small tear slide out. But you hastily wiped it away, he was being stubborn. He was the one who refused to communicate and talk out exactly where you wanted to go in life together.

That was your justification to yourself, why you felt like you had to pull away a bit.

A small voice still whined inside to go hug him like a koala and beg him not to leave you. The voice got thoroughly smushed by your inner realist.

It was his job but you still hoped he’d say something, anything.

You sat up and stretched but that brought about a new problem. The world tilted as you instantly felt nauseous.

A bit of bile slid up before you quickly swallowed it. Coughing now, you reached for the water on the side table to soothe your stomach.

“You okay?” Caleb called out to you from the other room.

“I’m fine!” You call back, yeah you’re just peachy.

Sighing once more, you let the melancholy hold you for just a second more before you head out the door too.

“Good morning!” He turns to look at you with a bright smile before turning back to his task of making breakfast.

The smell turns your stomach, your nose wrinkles as you heave a bit into your hand.

He turns at the sound so you quickly assume a neutral face.

You were upset with him still so you didn’t need Caleb to turn on his safety above all else mode.

Knowing him, he’d probably try to keep you in the Fleet’s medical ward and monitor you through channels. Even while he was away.

Stupidly overprotective man who can’t even tell you that he wants you to be his girlfriend.

“Your food is served milady!” He makes an over dramatic bow and places down dishes onto the table.

You sit down thinking that this is where you usually respond with something along the lines of- oh good sir, you flatter me!

Caleb and you usually love to ham it up together, it’s what makes life together so fun.

Staying at his house for stretches of time before going back to your own place for work.

He won’t be here for a while though and everything that reminded you of what you’ll be missing, just made you depressed. So you just sit down at the table silently, picking up a small bowl of rice with your chopsticks. Caleb stares at you for a moment before asking quietly

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you think Caleb?”

He sighs deeply as he takes his seat across from you. The food looks delicious but the smell and the turmoil of it all sent your stomach twisting. You swallowed back a gag but he noticed your discomfort.

“What do you want me to do? I wish I could stay home but-“

“I get it. I’m just tired of you not talking to me. That’s all.”

“Not talking to you? What do you call this?” He flicks his finger between the two of us with a half grin, but his eyes are a little panicked.

“Talking out of your ass is what it is…” you mutter barely audible even to yourself.

“What was that pipsqueak?”

“Nothing!….panty sniffer.” You give him an over the top toothy grin while saying the last part just loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey! That was once!”

“You mean the only time I caught you?!”

“I-I well don’t call me that!”

You sniffed derisively, “Don’t call me pipsqueak then.”

He glares at you a bit for bringing it up in the first place before reaching over and yanking your hair a bit.

“Childish much?” You scoff at him, just nibbling at your rice, not really touching much else.

“Says the one who won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“So the pot calls the kettle black! I did tell you what’s wrong.” He narrows his eyes at you

“There’s more to it.”

“Yeah, you keep avoiding me when I want to talk about our relationship.”

Caleb waves his hand dismissively

“What’s there to talk about? I love you and you love me right?”

“There’s more to this than that Caleb! You’re just scared of something. Are you really that scared of committing to me?!”

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me about it?”

He wilts like a flower in the hot sun

“I just can’t.”

“Because of the fleet? Because of the chip? Because of the professor?”

Caleb stiffens with each word you spit at him.

“Do you really think that I don’t know? I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were.”

“Well you sure treat me like I am. Keeping me in the dark for my own safety. I’m sick of it!”

“Sick of me, you mean?” He’s angry at this, standing up from the table and leaning over it, muscles taut. You can tell he’s not trying to intimidate you because he’s looking at his hands, quivering a bit.

“I never said that.”

“It sure sounded like it to me.” He spits this but not towards you, more to himself. The thought of you leaving has always terrified him.

You didn’t mean to make him feel like that, but it won’t get him out of the conversation you needed to have.

“I’m sorry if that’s how it came across. However, I just want to talk about this. Properly. Please….” You beg him a bit, standing up and laying a hand over his trembling one.

You sit in silence for a minute, just looking at his faraway eyes. He can’t look at you in the face as he says quietly

“I just can’t right now.”

You pull away from him, distraught now. He’s leaving for 4 months and this is how he acts? Fine.

“I can’t do this.”

You walk away, not giving him a chance to reply as you latched the door behind you. Your ears caught the end of a choked sob come through the wood of the door.

Hearing him cry makes you want to cry. You really just want to go out there and hug him, cry it out together. But you know that he would still find someway to weasel out of discussing it again.

Using your sympathy to keep you to himself for the day. Not acknowledging the problem.

So for the rest of the day, you ignored him. Staying in the room. His bag was already packed and in the living room so you never even bothered opening the door.

It hurt your insides but you wanted to be firm about this. But you knew that he’d be leaving early tomorrow. You might not have a chance to say goodby if you don’t go out now.

Your pride keeps you in the room though. Caleb’s presence lingers by the door a few times. Feeling like you could see him through the wood, raising his hand to knock but stopping just before.

The quiet and the sadness stretching long between you, permeating the air of the house.

You don’t break.

Night falls, you can hear him opening and closing another door in the house. Presumably to sleep in another room.

You go to bed that night, heart, head, and stomach empty. Tears soaking into your pillow.

You don’t sleep well, so you can hear the startup of Caleb getting ready to leave. The engines thrumming outside the house.

Wait! You bolt up and skid out the door. Flinging the front door open, you start waving your arms frantically but it’s too late.

He’s already in the air.

He starts to fly away. You don’t know if he glances back to look but you wave your arm as you yell

“I love you!”

He fades into the distance, leaving you alone with a hole in your stomach.

Going back into the house after a minute, you notice a small piece of paper left on the coffee table. Picking it up, you notice his handwriting immediately.

‘I’m sorry’

You fall to your knees, sobs wracking your body. Heaving a bit as the nausea in your stomach hits you with a vengeance.

Please come back safe Caleb.

Let me know what you thought! I’m going to make this a series, it’s also on AO3. Thank you for reading🤗

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22