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noyasmashing · 7 hours

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Toying with Expectations

Fem!Reader x Sub!Izuku

CW: mean reader, like really mean, fem! reader, crying, head (giving and receiving), semi public, college au, a bit of crying, and degrading

AN: yeahhh not sure what happened with this one

Your breaths came in soft, rapid gasps, barely above a whisper as pleasure pulsed through you. Your fingers rooted yourself into the bathroom wall behind you.

"Almost there, don't stop," you urged in a hushed tone, a sharp inhale punctuating your words.

Izuku knelt before you, his head buried between your legs beneath your skirt. With one of your legs draped over his shoulder, his mouth was soaked in a blend of your essence and his own saliva. He fervently slid his tongue up your folds, delving inside you with a hunger to elicit more sounds of pleasure. Simultaneously, his free hand palmed himself through his jeans desperately.

"You know, your mouth serves my pussy much better than your words ever could," you moaned, arching your back and grinding your hips against his face. He emitted a soft whimper, an unspoken affirmation of your words.

"Good boy, Izuku, good boy," you moaned outright, "oh, yes, yes..." his tongue desperately sucked at your clit as you reached your peak. Your roughly gripped his messy hair, using his locks as leverage to grind yourself on his tongue.

Izuku squirmed under your grasp, his moans muffled against your hot cunt as he let himself go. The white liquid covered his jeans, a humiliating reminder of his own pleasure as rubbed his thighs together.

You leaned against the wall, placing a hand on your chest as you took a few deep breaths. Lifting up your skirt, you nudged him away with your knee making him fall backwards, catching himself with his sweaty palms. "Jesus, look what you did..." you said, wrinkling your nose at the obvious wet spot in his pants.

He staggered to his feet, hastily readjusting himself by tucking his shirt back in. "I-I couldn't help myself..." he mumbled, still dazed from the encounter. Slowly, he wiped at his face, his tongue lolling out slowly to lick at what lingered on his lips.

"You're so fucking gross," you muttered, slipping into your panties and sliding them back on without a second glance.

"Y/N?" he spoke up suddenly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I n-need to ask you something."

Raising an eyebrow in speculation, you replied, "What?" Your tone conveyed your growing impatience as you shifted your weight and crossed your arms.

"W-would you be willing to come to my dorm room after classes today?" he fidgeted nervously with his tie, which was already a mess.

You tapped your fingers along your folded arms, contemplating his request. With a resigned sigh, you relented, "Fine."

"R-really?" he stammered, dumbfounded by your acceptance.

"Yeah, whatever," you waved lazily as you headed towards the stairs.

"Thanks, Y/N! It really means a lot to me. I've been wanting to-"

"Oh my god, keep talking and I'm gonna change my mind. And I thought I told you to stop following me so closely."

"R-right, my apologies," he replied sheepishly, staying put to give you space as you walked away. He held his burning cheeks, his face flushed with embarrassment, waiting for the sound of your muffled steps down the hallway to fade away.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You knocked on his door absentmindedly, engrossed in your phone. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he had been waiting right behind it, eager to answer the moment you arrived. Without a word, you walked past him, tossing your schoolbag onto the floor with a careless thud.

"Thank you again for coming," he said, attempting to contain the excitement in his voice.

"Get on the bed," you instructed, ignoring his gratitude as you smiled your phone into your pocket.

"H-huh?" he blinked in confusion, watching you push him backwards. He stumbled and found himself on the bed, bewildered. "Wh-what're you..." His words trailed off as you knelt in front of him, parting his knees with ease. His body froze as you deftly unbuckled his pants and pulled the zipper down. "W-wait, Y/N, y-you don't have to... I mean, this is..." His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as his skin began to burn with embarrassment.

"Lift your hips up," you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument, as you pulled his pants down. His mind went blank, and he obeyed, giving you just enough leverage to remove his pants, along with his underwear. "Aw, look at your All-Might undies, aren't you adorable," you mocked, running your hands along his freckled thighs.

Izuku let out a pitiful whine at your words, his body trembling with anticipation as he watched you. Without hesitation, you took his member, which was now only somewhat flaccid, into your mouth. But of course it didn't take long for him to become fully erect. Izuku's head snapped back, a pornographic moan escaping his lips. He clawed at his sheets, the unexpected pleasure leaving him momentarily speechless.

You dragged your tongue from the base to the slit, savoring the taste of the precum that was already leaking from his pink tip. "Let's see how long you can last without any foreplay..." you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you prepared to test his endurance.

"I-I, please!" Izuku could only manage a desperate plea as he instinctively buckled his hips in response to the overwhelming sensations. You started by sucking gently on the head, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him, before swirling your tongue around it, causing his legs to shake uncontrollably.

As you slid your mouth down, taking his full length into your throat, his eyes clouded over completely, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry of pleasure. He moaned wildly as you bobbed your head back and forth, the movement causing him to slide in and out of your mouth with increasing intensity.

He wasn't accustomed to this type of pleasure from you, usually being treated as your personal sex toy. But the sensation of your soft lips sucking on him like your own personal lollipop, while your hands traced circles so gently around the bone of his hips, had him whimpering and crying out in a way he never expected.

Out of pure instinct, he attempted to close his thighs, seeking some form of control, but you were quick to deliver a sharp slap to them. He moaned at the sharp pain, surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Your mouth slowed its motions around his puffy tip, and your fingers dug into his thighs harshly, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain that he found intoxicating.

He couldn't contain himself from the overwhelming stimulation, hot tears forcing themselves from his lash line as he let out slurred words of pleas and thank yous. His bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as heat out the cutest of noises, making you clench around nothing.

"I can't, I can't..." he cried out, his desperation evident as drool pooled and spilled from his lips. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" He whimpered, his release pulsing down your throat as you eagerly swallowed it down, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

He arched his back, the edges of his vision almost going black as waves of ecstasy washed over him, leaving him utterly spent and completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience.

You popped his cock out of your mouth, taking in a huge breath as it twitched several times, still slightly hard. Standing up, you made your way to your bag while Izuku lay on his back, his body still shaking from the leftover waves of his orgasm. Taking out a water bottle, you took a few swigs from it before addressing him.

"Okay, we're even, right?" you asked, turning to face him.

"H-huh?" Izuku mumbled lazily, his mind still clouded from the pleasure.

"This is for giving me head earlier. Fair's fair, right?" you clarified, taking another drink.

"I didn't... I didn't want you to come over for that..." he struggled to sit upright, his expression earnest. "I would never, um, ask you to do that for me..." he cleared his throat, words slightly shaking from embarrassment.

"Really? Huh," you rummaged through your bag again, pulling out a pack of gum and popping a few pieces into your mouth. "What did you want, then?"

"I wanted t-to spend time with you... just... be with you..." he admitted, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

"Ah. No," you replied bluntly, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

"I have shit to do. Bakugo and Kirishema have a study group tonight that I'm going to."

"Oh, they do? I didn't know," Izuku responded, surprised.

"Yeah. They invited the class."

"But I wasn't invited," he laughed nervously, feeling a pang of disappointment.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded. "A-ah, I see," he looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Aw, poor, poor Izuku," you teased, putting your hand on his cheek before giving it a playful slap. "Get over it."

"Yes, of course, wise advice," he grinned, rubbing his cheek slightly. "Thank you."

"If anyone asks why I was here, just say we accidentally switched book bags or something," you instructed, already heading towards the door.

"Not a problem," he replied, watching you leave. Once the door closed, he covered his mouth to prevent himself from squealing.

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muhgie · 1 year

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— Warsan Shire, crude conversations with boys who fake laughter often

#warsan shire #poetry #tw csa #feminism #male liberation #mens liberation #sexuality #menslib #virginity #the punctuation is messed up on this my apologies

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ddejavvu · 8 months

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hi! I have a request for Criminal Minds…

It’s Dom!Spencer x fem or afab reader where they’re fucking and reader is sooooo gone that she’s not even catching Spencer’s degradations and praises anymore and just says stuff like ,,you’re so pretty,, or sucks his fingers without a single CARE in the world.

IM GOING TO HELL IM SORRY 😭 also, if you happen to do this, can I be “🏹” anon? apologies if you don’t do emoji anons, ignore this if you don’t. Thanks anyway! Love your writing I’m your biggest fan <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

warning for ooc spence: i get you dom!spencer fans and this one's for you <3 but the man had to ashamedly whisper the word 'bitch' while reading it off of evidence from a crime scene so i don't think this one is really in character 💔💔💔 hopefully it's good though <3

Everything about Spencer is divine. The hair that hands in caramel-colored waves around your face, tips tickling your skin and only offering more stimulation to an already overwhelming experience. His lips, pink and plump that suckle ravenously at your neck, leaving stinging patches in their wake that won't heal for days. His cock, impressively thick and moderately long, stretching your drooling cunt and bumping rapidly against a spot so deep inside of you you're not sure you knew it existed. His fingers, long, slender, and veined, laying heavy on your tongue and putting pressure on its base so that you gag. Drool spills out around his digits as your body shakes from the force of his thrusts, and the gentle, soothing hum of his voice is with you only in sound, not in meaning.

You're too far gone to recognize the words spilling from his lips as he fucks you, terms like 'slut', 'dirty', 'filthy', and 'dumb' that, on a normal day, would send you into a stammering, blushing mess of denial and excuses. But now you're basking in his saccharine tone, letting his words wash over you and evaporate before your fucked-out brain has time to process them.

"Everyone thinks you're a genius," Spencer croons, sucking hard at a spot against your throat as he jams his fingers onto your tongue, "They say I'm lucky to have found you, 'cause you can keep up with me. But I know the truth, angel." He holds your hip in place with a single calloused hand, "You go dumb on my cock. That's all it takes, isn't it? Just a few. short. minutes." He punctuates his accusations with particularly rough thrusts, "And I've got you braindead on my dick."

"Is that true, baby?" He asks, kissing his way up your jaw and tracing the curve with the stiff tip of his tongue. You're whimpering around the three fingers he's stuffed in your mouth, lips desperately milking them like you would his cock. He curls them on your tongue, pressing down so your speech is garbled, "Answer me, honey. You go stupid for me, don't you?"

"Love you," You manage to blabber, drool spilling from your lips as you speak around his fingers. You're a spluttering mess, spit pooled in your mouth that coats Spencer's digits and seeps down your chin. You suckle at him like a man starved, and the pressure actually starts to hurt between the wayward lapping of your tongue at the pads of his fingers, "Love you- Spence, love you."

He feels your cunt clench around his dick, your body seemingly in tune with the single goal of sucking him dry. He muffles a groan into the crook of your neck, wondering if you'll ever remember the filthy way he's speaking to you now.

The words are harsh, but they're used endearingly, and he hums them into your neck with a kiss, like it's a compliment, "Dumb slut."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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reiderwriter · 8 months

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You'd Be Like Heaven To Touch♣️

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Female Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: After a whirlwind weekend, you're finally ready to go home and deal with the mess you created in Vegas. But you just cannot get your new Husband out of your head.

Warnings: Oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, no mention of birth control, and you're going to hate me by the end of this sex scene bye

A/N: They're officially out of Vegas! I'm so excited to share the next few parts with you guys, and we finally got our first taste of smut!! Also, the Reid in the gif is the exact one I'm picturing in this scene so yeah 🤡 smirk and all 😏

Here's the series masterlist, and my general masterlist!~

Prev. Chapter // Next Chapter

The race back to the hotel was easy compared to the ensuing rush to pack up an entire hotel room's worth of mess in the time between their arrival and their check-out time. Sure, they’d had to pack light as travelling FBI agents, but with the added mess you’d created in Spencer’s room, and the additional luggage of their marriage licence, the packing was needlessly more frantic than usual.

When you finally did make it down to the lobby, you froze up a little, realising that you were the final one to exit your room. You watched as seven pairs of eyes shifted to you as soon as the elevator door opened, hauling your go-bag further up your arm from where it was slipping down. You thanked your past self for having the foresight to put some makeup into the bag, having used up a copious amount of your concealer to cover up any evidence of your night with Reid. You still kept a small distance from the others, just in case.

“Sorry, were you all waiting for me?” you smiled at them as you got closer, hoping that they’d not ask questions at what had taken you so long. Your eyes caught Reid’s and you could see that he was looking down at your neck.

After an entire day morning and night in your company, you knew he’d seen the results of his handiwork. You wondered if the look that raked over you now was that of the dominant Reid from the night before, who you presumed marked you in such prominent places so people would know you were his, or that of the concerned team mate, who didn’t want to be caught and questioned by the others. You tried to shake both images from your head, not sure which would please you more.

“It’s okay, you’re not late, the cars are being bought around now and the jet leaves in 30,” Hotch greeted you when you finally got close enough.

“Late night, mama?” Morgan laughed at you as soon as he turned to you. “How did all that drinking last night go for you?”

You were so wrapped up in Reid and what he may or may not be thinking that you had to pull yourself back to reality for a second to realise that Morgan had been talking to you.

“What? Oh yeah, I guess. I don’t think I drank too much, but I did sleep like a baby, so who knows.” You laughed a little to punctuate the point, and then watched Morgan’s reaction closely. You were still looking for the two “agents” who had been witness to your marriage, after all.

“Ooh, you didn’t sample the local goods last night then? I’ve heard that Downtown Las Vegas is the best place to meet single men, and you were just complaining that you hadn’t been out in a while,” Penelope said from beside the man.

“No, no, the place Reid took me to was more library than bar, and as far from Downtown as you could get, so it was a nice and easy night for me.”

“And if the local men are anything like our resident Las Vegan,” Emily jumped in, looking at Reid. “Then I’m sure they’re not really what Y/N is looking for.” She laughed and they all start making their way out of the lobby.

You try to avoid meeting Reid’s eyes after that last comment, sure that you wouldn’t be able to stop the grimace of apology from coming to your lips. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you forced your eyes up into a small peak at his face, only to see his downturned eyes and the small smirk that was crossing his lips.

You hung back for a second, needing to clue this out, and nudged him with your elbow.

“What’s that look for?” you whisper at him in a harsh tone, hoping that no one was watching the two of you.

“It’s nothing.” He says, but the smile stays on his lips. You give him another look, silently communicating that you’re not taking that first answer and he nods a little as he walks beside you.

“If they could see the marks on your neck, they wouldn’t be thinking that I’m not what you’re looking for, right?” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, and you playfully whacked him in the arm a bit, before pushing through the doors of the hotel and feeling the sun on your cheeks once again.

You watched him climb into the car you took earlier and stop yourself from following him. You were going to need some time to think about how you should take that last comment, and a half an hour drive outside of his presence would probably do you good. Climbing up into the other SUV, you take a deep breath, feeling all the restlessness of the night before creep up on you.

–X–

You don’t know where you are, but you know that you’re burning up under his touch. His lips are on your skin, working their way down from your neck to the valley between your breasts and all you can hear is the sound of your own lustful moans as his hands trail further still.

You don’t know who it is on top of you, but you know that you’re dying for him to be there, to push his tongue into your mouth and make you submit to his will. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and roughly pull them down, opening you up to him. You feel his lips ghost down further still, until he’s there between your legs.

“Is this where you wanted me, baby? So desperate to have me, my little slut.” His words send another shiver down your spine as you roll your hips up into his face again.

He lets out a small chuckle and gives you what you want, finally lowering his tongue again and letting it meet your desperate cunt. He sets his attention on your clit, and your eyes roll back in bliss, not caring who it is between your legs giving you this much pleasure, just desperate for them to keep going.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you beg, fisting a handful of your mystery man’s hair. It’s soft to the touch, a little curly at the ends and it feels familiar, but you’re unable to think about it for more than a second before he’s pushing a finger into you.

“That’s it baby. Look at you, so fucking tight around my finger. You want me to push my cock into you, you’re going to have to relax for me baby, okay?” You still don’t know who it is, but you nod for him, knowing you want nothing except everything he’s telling you that you want.

He’s thrusting his fingers into you at a relentless pace now, adding one digit every few thrusts, until he’s up to three. His face is still buried in your pussy, tongue still flicking against your clit, his other hand pushing you down by the hips as he forces you closer and closer to the edge.

His hand drops down to your thigh, pushing your legs further apart, and it stays there feeling overly warm, almost burning you up from just that simple touch.

“You’re so wet for me baby, going to take my cock now?” You whimper and nod your head as fervently as you can, begging him with your eyes to push into you. He finally pulls his head up to your own, and you’re finally face-to-face with your mystery man.

“So wet for me, right baby? So wet for your husband?” Spencer questions you as he pushes into your wet, dripping hole, and you’re so surprised that all you can do in response is moan.

With each thrust, he drops a moan into your ears, and you feel your climax building quickly.

“Ah fuck yes, Y/N,” you claw at his back, desperate to pull him closer.

“Spencer, don’t stop, fuck.” Your name begins dropping from his lips like a prayer as his thrusts get sloppier, wetter, deeper.

“Y/N… Y/N……… Y/N….”

–X–

“Y/N, are you finally awake? We’ve been calling your name for a minute now.” Your eyes snap open and you come face to face with Emily and JJ from the seats opposite you on the jet.

“We thought you might be having a nightmare. Want to talk about it?” JJ asks, her voice in a hushed tone as a look of sympathy crosses over her face.

Whatever that was, it certainly was not a nightmare. But the scenario you were in now certainly was.

“What? Oh, yeah. I don’t know, maybe it was a nightmare.” You desperately hope you sound convincing enough for them to drop the subject. The last time you’d mentioned a lack of sleep, half of the team had approached you with different home remedies and tips for getting your full 8 hours. The last thing you needed right now was the constant reminder that you’d just had a sex dream about Spencer Reid on the jet whilst surrounded by all your close friends and colleagues.

Including the man himself, you realised, as you stretched your neck out from its awkward sleep position, and caught the sight of him there next to you. Your car had reached the jet first earlier that day, and it had taken all of two minutes after boarding before you’d been claimed by sleep, so you hadn’t realised he’d positioned himself next to you.

A quick glance down had told you he’d done more than that. Wrapped around your legs, and so big that it stretched over his too, was a large blanket, the one that he usually used on your longer trips home. He was asleep in the seat next to you, you noticed after an embarrassing amount of time, head resting in one of his hands, lips slightly open, looking the image of tranquillity.

His other hand was beneath the blanket, somewhere you couldn’t see, but as you shifted slightly in your chair trying to get comfortable again, you realised it was definitely somewhere you could feel. His hand had somehow fallen into your lap, and he had a firm but sleepy grip on your left thigh, the one closest to him. Now that you had moved, so did his hand, rubbing gentle strokes into your skin every few minutes. Slow enough that you were sure he was still asleep, but still enough to have am effect.

His hand was hot against your leg, and his touch burned. You remembered the sensation from your dream and immediately did your best to temper your facial expressions, not wanting to gather any more concern from the two women opposite you at the table than you already had.

“Y/N? If you want to talk about it, we’re always here you know? This job can be overwhelming at the best of times, and we just worked a hard case. No one would blame you for needing to take some time for yourself.” Emily looked at you in concern now, and it was taking all of your will to keep your eyes on her, and nod at the appropriate time, your brain short-circuiting now that you realised Reid was so close.

Where did this sudden infatuation with him come from? You’d always appreciated that he was a good looking guy, but you’d never thought about him so thoroughly before, and certainly not enough to lose yourself on the jet to inappropriate thoughts.

It was the insanity of the weekend, you told yourself, it had to be. You’d learnt more about him and accidentally, possibly, maybe slept together, and now your body was just getting it out of your system. Either that or you’d just learnt too much about his preferences and your brain was just trying to come to terms with each revelation.

You settled back into comfortable conversation with Emily and JJ, trying your best to convince yourself that your dream had meant nothing, blocking out any noise in your head that was suggesting otherwise.

Especially the little thought at the back of your brain that was reminding you that you hadn’t removed his hand from your thigh, and that you really didn’t want to.

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princessofmarvel · 9 months

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Nothing to fear

summary | jonathans girlfriend accidentally takes some fear toxin, while finding out that he is the scarecrow (i suck at summaries, lol)

pairing | jonathan crane x innocent!fem!reader!

word count | 1.2k

genre | fluff with some angst!

requested? | yes! thank you so much for this request @kpopgirlbtssvt i had so much fun writing it!

warnings! | the reader gets drugged, but I think that’s it! Please let me know if there is anything that I am missing! And, this is not really proofread yet, lol

author’s note! | my requests are open for these characters! please send in your requests for blurbs, headcanons, or imagines! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Jonathan has been at work the entire day, irritated and stressed beyond belief. The only thing getting him through it? Knowing that his beautiful girl was home waiting for him. She called him earlier to let him know that she was going to his place after her last class, he insisted that she just rest after, but she kept saying something about a surprise she had planned. He knew there was no talking her out of it, so he decided that it would be better to just look forward to anything she had planned.

When he met her, he could have sworn she wasn’t real. She had accidentally bumped into him while she was getting her coffee one day, and knocked his coffee to the ground. She immediately started apologizing, and asking what his order was so she could get him a new one. And, no matter how many times he told her it was fine, and to not worry about it (mostly so he could just hurry on to work) she wouldn’t stop. He finally caved and gave her his order, and she immediately ran and ordered him a new one. She gave it to him with an intoxicating smile on her face while still apologizing. After the encounter Jonathan had to dig deep into his mind and make sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Just to make sure, he went back to the same coffee shop the next morning, and saw her sitting there at a table, her pale pink nails tapping away at her computer, while sipping her drink. As he was about to leave, she looked up at him, and invited him to sit with her. They sat and talked until the coffee shop was closing up.

Jonathan unlocked his door and walked into his home, while the smell of a freshly cooked meal immediately hit him in the face. He realized what the surprise must have been. She had mentioned last week how she wished they had enough time to spend a proper meal with each other. He had something planned for the weekend, but she must have beat him to it. As he walked into the kitchen he saw the lights dimmed, candles lit, and the amazing meal set out on the table. The only thing missing? His angel was nowhere to be seen. He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings as he heard small whimpers coming from the bathroom beyond the shut door.

“Sweetheart?” He called out, as he knocked on the door. When all he got back was a scared whimper he decided that he couldn’t wait for a response, and walked into the bathroom only to be met with a sight that broke his heart.

His girlfriend trembling in the corner with tears streaming down her face, the nice dress she had on now all wrinkled up. Her once done up hair had now been messed up from what he imagined would have been her fingers pulling at it. She had her head down on her knees while mumbling something to herself that he couldn’t make out. He didn’t understand what was going on until he noticed the now knocked over, and empty bottle of his fear toxin on the sink.

“Angel?” He said calmly as he bent to her level, slowly taking her face in his hands as he tried to make eye contact with her eyes darting everywhere but at him.

“J-Johnny? There was a-” She stopped as she started to sob again. He pulled her into his chest and held her until she started to calm down.

Once she calmed down enough, he helped her into the shower to calm her, and make sure she knew that whatever it was she saw was fake, but what she was feeling was real. After he helped her get dried off, dressed, and wrapped in a blanket on the couch, he brought her a warm cup of tea, and sat opposite of her, waiting for her to talk first.

“What was that?” She quietly mumbled out, while taking a sip of her tea, staring straight ahead.

“It was a fear toxin, something I use on patients.” He tells her slowly in fear of her freaking out, but she stays surprisingly calm, while just staring straight ahead, so he continued. “I give it to them so they can face their fears, and see that it is all just in their heads”

“And the mask?” She asked, finally looking at him, her eyes puffy, and red from all the crying she had done. “I saw it in the case, I went to put it away, but when I picked it up, it was unlocked and everything fell out. It’s the mask of that man they show on the news, is that you Jonathan?”

He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how to answer this without her freaking out. “Yes, it’s me, and I completely understand if that makes you want to end this.”

Saying that to her broke his heart, he wanted her to stay, but he knew that if this was too much for her, he needed to let her leave. She was the only person in this world that he could never even dream of hurting, no matter how much it would hurt him.

“Jonathan, I’m not completely sure what it is that you do, but I do know that you make me feel safer, and happier than any other man in this city could. I’m not sure that I'm ready to know exactly what it is you do, but I’m not ready for this to end.” She has to him in almost a whisper.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’ll explain everything when you’re ready.” He says while pulling her down to lay on his chest, while wrapping the blanket around them both. As he kisses her head he notices that she has already fallen asleep, probably worn out from the fear toxin. Jonathan eventually falls asleep with her on the couch, with her all wrapped up in his arms.

The next morning, Jonthan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, and his girlfriend was no longer on his chest. He walks into the kitchen to see her, dancing around the kitchen while fixing breakfast. She jumped a little as he walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her.

“Shhhh Sweetheart, it’s just me.” He mumbles into her neck, while leaving small kisses. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I was hungry.” She said to him with a smile, while making them both a plate.

“Hey Jonathan?” She says while sitting across from him as they ate. “Am I going to get hurt?” she asked him somewhat quietly.

Jonathan made his way to kneel down next to her chair. “Never, that is the last thing that would happen, angel. You have nothing to fear.” He said, looking at her with complete genuineness.

“Okay” She said to him with a nod, and a smile. Jonathan stood up, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As they pulled away smiling, Jonathan picked her up while she gave a small squeal. He smiled down at her only to see that she was smiling back at him as he carried her to his bedroom. While they were smiling at each other, Jonathan knew that this would all end up all right.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane batman begins #jonathan crane the dark knight #cillian murphy #cillian murphy jonathan crane #jonathan crane cillian murphy #batman begins #the dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane fic #jonathan crane fluff #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane angst #jonathan crane fanfiction #jonathan crane fanfic

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 8 months

Note

Fluff night for Trav, trying to convince him to let you be the big spoon for a night🥹

Travis slumped into bed, throwing the blanket over his legs before he turned off his nightstand lamp, the room going dark. Your laptop illuminated your annoyed face.

"Travis, I wasn't done working. Can you turn the light back on?" Your words were laced with irritation, punctuating with a huff.

"Nope. Whatever you need to do, you can do in the morning. You need sleep, babe." Not wanting to get into it with him, you closed your laptop, shuffling under the comforter to get comfortable. You snuggled up against Travis' broad back, nuzzling your nose against the back of his neck.

He reached to turn the light back on, turning to you with a surprised look on his face. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? I'm going to bed like you told me to."

"You're messing up the dynamics of the bedroom." He gestured wildly across the bed, making you giggle.

"What are you talking about? There are no "bedroom dynamics". You were too tired to hold up your hands in quotations.

Travis scoffed, laying back on his pillows. "I am the big spoon. I've always been the big spoon since we've been together. I hold you, not the other way around."

"I can hold you sometimes, too, babe. You won't be any less of a man if you let your wife be the big spoon." You teased him, patting his chest.

"It has nothing to do with my manhood and everything to do with the fact that you snore, and I don't need that in my ear all night. I have practice in the morning." Travis grinned, chuckling when he saw how offended you were.

"Are you kidding me? I don't snore, you do! You keep me up all night long with your stupid snoring. I have to check if you're still breathing sometimes."

Travis simply shrugged, running a finger along his beard line. "I'm a big guy, big guys are expected to snore. You on the other hand, you're so small but listening to you is like hearing a freight train run into factory. I didn't know you were capable of that much noise." You rolled your eyes, laying back down on your side of the bed.

"Well, we don't need to worry about who's going to be the big spoon, because the only thing you'll be spooning tonight is your pillow."

"Baby, are you serious?" Travis questioned you, but you were silent, only switching off the lamp so he was left in the darkness. You both laid there, too stubborn to apologize.

Travis folded first, knowing he needed to get some sleep or he was going to be miserable at practice in the morning.

"Babe, I'm sorry. C'mon, I'll let you be the big spoon tonight." You giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist. You kissed his back, Travis pulling your arms more around him.

"I knew you would fold first." You whispered.

#traviskelce #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce concepts #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl fan fic

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barleyo · 3 months

Text

Miss Independent.

Hobie Brown X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Did y'all miss me? Of course you did! Sorry to leave you all for so long, I was on one of my world-famous hiatuses. Sorry, it will most definitely happen again though. Thank you all for sticking by me. I hope you enjoy this piece.

Tags: foreplay, fingering, established relationship, smut, explicit content

Wordcount: 869

(I guess this could be seen as a part two to Bubbles, so take it as you will! Thank you for reading, apologies for the short length!)

She pushed the door to the apartment open quietly, cringing at the small squeal it let out. She felt awful. It had been the longest night she had ever worked through, her feet, back, and arms all hurt, her hair and makeup had been completely messed up, and to top it off, she had reeked of alcohol from a stray drink that had been spilled on her.

She quickly discarded her shoes, kicking them off next to the door. She made her way over to the couch. Her arms fiddled behind her back to untie her serving apron, but she couldn’t work the knot out. Sighing, she threw her hands down to her sides before she felt a pair of large hands wrap around her waist.

“‘Ey there, (Y/N),” her boyfriend said quietly into her ear, tracing his fingers over her sides. “Rough night?”

She did not respond, instead leaning back into his touch and mumbling. “Can you get this for me?”

He hummed and undid the knot, working it out with one hand while his other one remained perched on (Y/N)’s hip. Hobie pulled the apron off and tossed it thoughtlessly, keeping his focus on his girl.

“Gonna tell me what happened?”

He tightened his grip around her and pulled her down on his lap on the couch. He placed her legs over his and massaged her shoulders with his big, calloused hands.

“‘M jus’ so tired of that place,” she said over a hum. His hands worked deep into the tense muscles between her shoulder blades. “Workin’ me half to death,” she threw her head back onto his shoulder so that she could look at him, giving him a weak smile “and my feet hurt so fuckin’ bad.”

“Ah, s’no good. My hardworking girl.” He parted her thighs slightly with his knee and placed his hand over the flesh. “Y’need to relax, can’t keep exhausting y’self like this.”

"I know, but I can't just call off. My boss barely wanted to let me off when I was sick, he won't care if I'm just tired." She softly followed his motions and spread her thighs further for him, gasping when his hand rubbed her over her jeans. "Ah, please don't stop, I need a release so bad tonight," she pleaded.

"Wouldn't dream of stoppin', baby. Just lemme take care of you, yeah?"

Her lashes fluttered, briefly kissing the tops of her cheeks. She felt Hobie's hands start to slip past her unbuttoned jeans and explore, and she just let him. Having no energy left, she allowed him to fiddle with her to his heart's content.

His fingers pinched her clit softly, squishing the little nub. He chuckled when (Y/N) moaned his name under her breath at the feeling. "God, those people take you for granted. 'M so lucky to have you all to m'self."

He moved from simple pinches and pokes to full circular motions. Small, clockwise strokes were delivered to her clit, with the calloused tips of Hobie's fingertips adding onto the already fulfilling sensation.

"Fuck, Hobie, right there." Her eyebrows knitted together tightly, jaw popping frustratedly as she chased her high. "Wait, no, don't slow down."

"Patience, love, patience."

He slid his fingers down from her clit to her entrance, teasing the slick hole with his fingertips.

"I thought you were doing this for me, not so that you could see me squirm," she said, offer a fake pout.

"Oh, but it is for you. I know you love to feel these in ya." To punctuate his words, he roughly curled his fingers into her, barely prodding the pudgy, gummy spot that she so desperately needed to be hit.

Hobie scissored her open, spreading his middle and index finger while they were comfortably in her. He placed his head on her shoulder and looked over it, eyes clouding with lust as he saw drips of arousal escaping her.

"You're the prettiest little thing, aren't you? Coating my fingers, nice n good."

His fingers made another plunge into her, this time angling to hit her G-spot. He went in and out, pounding into it until his girlfriend shifted into a huffing mess.

Her moans were no longer moans, they had turned into breathy, long exhalations. She braced herself, knowing that she would burst at any moment.

"Getting all tight on me now," Hobie mused, running his tongue over the shell of her ear. "Just let go."

So she did.

A fast, flashing set of squeezes attacked his two fingers. (Y/N) gripped Hobie's wrist tightly, trying to ground herself in any way possible because if she didn't, she thought the pleasure would surely ascend her into heaven.

She didn't sit there for long, though, ready to feel more of her boyfriend. She shifted herself in his lap so that she could face him head on. Straddling his hardened cock over his pants, she started to slowly grind herself down.

"Thank you, Hobs, I needed that so badly."

"So did I, baby. The night's not over though, is it?"

"Of course not," she said, pressing her full weight down on his length. "You know that you have to tip your servers, so hurry up and let me have yours."

#barleyxnighteye #astv #astv hobie #hobie brown x reader #x reader #smut #hobie x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #smutfic #smut fanfiction #fem reader

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jessamine-rose · 7 months

Text

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Heartbeat ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Back in June, I said it was unlikely that 1) I’d play WHB or 2) put myself through the mental turmoil of writing smut again. Fast forward to Day 3 of the game and I was so, so wrong ;-;

So far, I’m rlly into Leviathan and Sitri, and the latter instantly inspired me to write for him on Day 1. I hope you all suffer from thirst enjoy reading this spontaneous fic (*^ω^*)

Note: Sub! Sitri, riding, edging, orgasm denial, emotional sex, mention of Switch! Sitri x Switch! Reader, 1-21 spoilers, MINORS DNI

♡ 1k words under the cut ♡

As much as you adore Sitri, he has one flaw which frustrates you to no end.

“Solomon—ah!”

The movement of your hips ceases, prompting a startled cry from the devil beneath you. The sound is coupled with the sensation of cold fingertips pressing into your waist.

He’s still inside you.

As much as you’d like to continue, you still your body and examine your lover’s face. He is a beautiful mess—pale blue hair fanned out over the pillow, flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, magenta eyes glossy and half-lidded.

“You.” His voice is quiet, punctuated by ragged breaths. “Why…”

His grip on your waist tightens, paired with a desperate buck of his hips, but you slap his hand away. Irresistible as he is, you can tell that his intimacy isn’t directed at you.

“Sitri.” You click your tongue, eyes narrowed. “What did I tell you?”

He meets your gaze, confusion clouding over those pretty pink orbs. “Could you please elaborate?”

For a devil, he can be quite thoughtless.

You put your hand under his chin, tilting his face upwards. The words that leave your mouth are cold, sharp, perfectly clear.

“You called me Solomon again.”

At least Sitri understands the gravity of his mistake. His expression goes from needy to mournful, apologetic, docile. Engulfed in your shadow, it is a delicious sight.

And to think that a few hours ago, he was the one looming over your trembling body. In that moment, his normally placid expression had given way to an excited smirk.

But it’s your turn now.

“I apologize, Descendant of—”

Your hand wraps around his wrist. It incurs a soft gasp this time—from surprise or pain? His arm still bears the marks of Satan’s bites; his blood had made such brilliant weapons. Your thumb ghosts over the wounds before pressing down on his pulse point.

…You think you are starting to understand his kink. There is a spike in his heartbeat, the calm rhythm turned erratic by your touch.

“Wrong again,” you tell him. Your voice takes on a low, impatient tone. “It’s ______, remember? That’s what I told you to call me when we first met, when I promised to save Hell, when I came to your room earlier. But you keep forgetting…”

A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand releases his wrist and trails up his chest. Tracing his love bites, caressing his cheek, stroking his hair.

He makes a satisfied noise and closes his eyes. Silky blue strands yield to your touch.

Was he ever like this with your ancestor? Is that all he sees in you?

“Now,” you whisper. Your hand moves to the side of his head and finds your target. “Why don’t we try again?”

His eyes fly open, painted with shock this time. “Wait, that—!”

Your fingertips trace the curve of his horn. The action elicits a loud moan from Sitri, shaky hands returning to your waist.

He gives you a pleading look. “S-Stop. Please, it feels…”

“Go on.” Your thumb rubs the base of his horn, ruffling his hair. The ministrations don’t stop there—at the same time, you resume rocking your hips. “Say my name.”

“I…” Just like that, he becomes putty in your hands. His hips shift beneath you, out of sync with your movements, hopelessly futile in relieving his erection. “Ah…______!”

He repeats your name, louder this time. It sounds different from how his fellow devils or even Minhyeok address you, spoken with more intention. Desire. Adoration.

It sounds like a prayer in his voice.

You let go of his horn, smiling. “That’s more like it.”

“______.” He looks up, taking deep breaths to compose himself. One hand leaves your waist and seizes your wrist. “I can hear it, you know?”

You pause, glancing at his hand. His grip is stronger yet, to some extent, delicate as to avoid bruising your skin.

“My heartbeat?”

“It sounds different,” he confesses. He closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation. “You smell like him, act like him, you even talk like him at times. But this—”

His thumb finds your pulse and applies pressure. When he opens his eyes, they are shining with unshed tears and your captivated reflection.

“All yours,” he whispers. A dazed smile adorns his face as he kisses the back of your hand. “It’s the most beautiful rhythm I’ve ever heard. They’ll never—I won’t allow this melody to stop this time. Promise me that I won’t lose you again, that you…”

Butterflies. There are butterflies in your chest.

The fluttery sensation is overwhelming. You pull your hand away—not that Sitri hasn’t noticed, not that he can’t tell without touching you—but it’s too late. He gives you a knowing smile, accompanied by a wild glint in his eyes and a sudden thrust from his hips.

“Ah! Sitri, you…!”

You don’t give him time to savor your reaction, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss.

He eagerly reciprocates, strong arms wrapping around you and keeping your body flush against him. His kiss is deep, greedy, depriving you of oxygen.

When you come up for air, your heart is beating so fast that you worry it will jump out of your chest. Sitri simply has that effect on you.

“Okay,” you reply. Your lips move to his cheeks, kissing away his tears. “It’s a promise.”

“You...” The look in his eyes spells euphoria, dilated pupils akin to hearts. More tears roll down his face. “I understand, ______.”

You sit back up and match his pace. It draws out more moans from Sitri as he thrusts into you with more fervor. A reverent smile graces his features.

Beautiful. You’d like to savor that expression while you still can.

After you climax, Sitri will likely return to his composed self and put you to bed, prioritizing your comfort above his own…or would he get back at you? Flip your positions, propose another round, flash you that dangerous smirk which makes your heart flutter? Say your name differently?

A devilish smile plays on your lips.

It’s not like you have any objections. But until then, you will take your time breaking him until the only name on his tongue is yours.

♡

Read my other WHB works here Σ੧(❛□❛✿)

*cries* S-So how was that for my second time writing smut?? Cue me dying as I wrote the word er*ction….and thank you to @diodellet for proofreading this and sharing your wisdom as the veteran smut writer between us <3

If there is one silver lining in WHB’s delay, it’s that the game got released during Kinktober. I honestly didn’t expect myself to get inspired right after the game’s debut, but Sitri simply had that effect on me. And after finishing Chapter 1 and his H scene, I can officially put him on my bias list ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Sitri enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @d34dlysinner @pinkaditty @og-in-a-bog @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @potol0ver @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb sitri #sitri #sitri x reader #whb sitri x reader #what in hell is bad x reader #whb x reader #whb smut #what in “hell” is bad?#g/n reader #spicy warning #mdni #jessamine-writing

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theragethatisdesire · 6 months

Text

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

#much ado about nothing #much ado #much ado uni #much ado universe #much ado verse #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you

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euphor1a · 1 year

Text

Namjoon gives you a belly bulge

thirst drabbles (7/∞)

fandom » bts

pairing » namjoon x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni!)

genre » smut, established relationship.

word count » ~ 550

warnings » profanity, dom/sub undertones, belly bulge, big d*ck!joon, size kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, lmk if i missed anything!

Another whimper escapes you, eyes closed shut from the bliss that enraptures your mind and body. Namjoon buries his nose in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. His hand, gentle yet firm, puts pressure on the bulge that has appeared in your belly. You gasp, soon followed by a groan that reverberates in his throat.

“Would you take a look at that! Fuck. Your little pussy can’t even take my cock properly.” He nips on the sensitive flesh of your neck. You jerk a little in response, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock filling you up so well. Namjoon repositions himself to look into your eyes.

“Look at me, baby, c’mon.”

The moment you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he starts to pull out. You shudder, feeling all those veins and ridges of his length dragging deliciously along your gummy walls. Before you can process anything else, Namjoon thrusts back inside. You cry out as you’re pushed upwards from the force.

“Joonie—” your voice is small, barely audible. He sets a pace that is ruthless, cock repetitively hitting all those sweet spots inside you. The sounds you make with each of his thrusts are like punctuation. Your eyes roll back whenever his tip brushes over your cervix. You’re overflowing with fluids, leaking and gushing around him. Some of it runs down your inner thighs, slathering over him also.

“You’re making a mess, baby, fuck.” Namjoon catches your lips in a searing kiss. Your back arches, breasts pressing into the hardness of his chest. He growls when he feels your pebbled nipples against his skin.

“M– ugh, I need more!” you whine, breaking the kiss abruptly. Your hips buck up to match his rhythm. Namjoon lets his hand slip between your joined bodies, gently stroking the belly bulge.

“Oh baby,” he rasps, “wonder how your cute tummy will look when all nice and round.” Your pussy clenches when you realize what he’s implying. “You’d love that, won’t you? Do you want me to breed your little womb? Yeah?”

“Fu–fuck— Joonie! Yes!” A strange wave of carnal desire pulses in your body. Namjoon notices immediately.

“Is that what you want, hm? Pretty tits full of milk for our baby who’ll grow inside your tummy?”

You shudder against him, his hips roughly pounding into you. He takes the hold of your left leg to place it on his shoulder, cock now hitting deeper into your pussy.

“I’m gonna fill you up with all my cum, baby,” he mutters under his breath, pressing a kiss on your stomach. “And you’re gonna keep every single drop of it in your pussy like a good girl. Okay?”

However, you’re way too preoccupied to answer his question, brain addled at how good he’s screwing you, promising you things you’ve never dared to think about. Namjoon doesn’t appreciate your silence. His hand slowly runs down from your belly bulge to clit, a shocked gasp escaping you.

“Answer me, baby. You’ll keep my entire load inside your pussy like a good girl, right?”

You clench around him upon those words, lips moving to utter a breathless “yes”. Your teary eyes meet his, head nodding fervently. Namjoon can’t help but groan at your eagerness, thrusts turning sloppy.

He loves you so, so bad. And it will be the same for your kid.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading <33!! i hope you enjoyed it hehe 🫣! this a repost from my old blog but i edited it and added more... stuff 🥴! apologies for any mistakes left in there!

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! support your local writers, it keeps us motivated to create and share 🌸!

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#🪄; things i’ve written #♨️; thirst drabbles!#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kpop smut #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #editing this got me 🫢😵‍💫😳#i've written some really filthy stuff that cater *cough* to me *cough*#anyway i hope this caters to other people too jfhdfbhjjfuj

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skzooweemama · 8 months

Note

Hiii I love love loveee your past two works they’re adorable🥹🥹

I was wondering if you would be open to writing how skz members react to you like accidentally poking/touching them w something (ex: a paintbrush or the eraser of a pencil). Something that you wouldn’t expect to tickle them but it does??

IM SORRY IM TRYING TO HAVE THIS MAKE SENSE😭😭

If this is too confusing or you simply don’t want to write it please don’t feel pressured, I understand!

hi hi! i’m so happy you liked my last two works!! thank you for your kind words!!

as for this request: i’m crying and throwing up this is SO CUTE 😭

i actually have so many ideas-

thank you for being my first ask anon!! 🫶🫶 this turned out to be 6000+ words of tickly fluff omg- that was NOT intentional what the heck!!! i probably won't do this much for every ask i receive, but i certainly got caught up in this one haha

(i think i ignored the “accidentally” in some of these 🫣)

EVERYONE SEND ME ASKS!! 🔫

ENJOYY!!

~~~

Bang Chan:

When you heard the door open, you were hunched over your textbooks. It had been hours since you moved, practically yanking your hair out while gathering evidence for your research paper.

“Baby?” Chan’s voice came from down the hallway as he toed off his shoes and locked the door behind him. When you didn’t respond, he walked into the kitchen, finding you in the same spot he left you in when he went into the studio. “Have you been here this entire time?” He asked, coming up behind you to rub your back lovingly.

“Mmm…” Was your only response, not even offering your boyfriend a look.

“Did you eat?” A kiss was pressed to the top of your head. You nodded, and while Chan didn’t exactly believe you, he didn’t push. “Can I help?”

That made you look up at him, your tired eyes softening when you saw his bare face and equally tired eyes smiling back at you.

“Sure, thanks Channie…” You responded with words this time, pushing a book over to him. You briefly explained what you were looking for and he sat beside you, listening intently. Together, the two of you took notes for another half an hour before you stretched, sighing in relief as you were finally done for the night. “I never thought I’d get through those two chapters tonight!” You exclaimed, closing your textbook.

Chan giggled beside you, brushing your hair from your face. “Aren’t you lucky that I’m here?” He teased, giving you a lopsided grin.

You smiled and pressed a small kiss to his mouth. “Well duh, but don’t go getting full of yourself now.” You punctuated your last few words with a couple quick pokes to his side with the eraser of your pencil.

Chan jolted in his seat, sputtering out some giggles as you poked him. With a whine of your name, he pushed at the hand with the offending pencil in its grasp. “What are you doinggg?!”

You laughed at his reaction, trying to poke at him some more. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“You know why! Knock it off!” He cried, trying to get out of his seat so you’d leave him alone. Now feeling playful, you hooked your ankle around the leg of his chair so he’d have a harder time moving it.

“I don’t! Why are you running from me?” You continued to tease, grabbing his closest arm with your free hand so you could continue your assault. He broke into more giggles, pulling at you a bit but being careful not to hurt you.

Chan let out a small “Ah!”, his smile growing bigger and bigger the more he laughed. “Stohohop! It tihihickles!!” He choked out between laughs, body squirming away from you as much as he could from where you had him trapped.

“What? It’s just an eraser! Does it really tickle?” You asked, playing completely innocent as if Chan wasn’t a laughing mess before you.

“Yehehes!! E- Enough!!” His voice broke a bit from the laughter, so you let him have a break. You rubbed the tickly sensations away with one hand and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Sorry baby, I couldn’t help it.” You apologized, still grinning at his flushed face and slightly heavy breathing.

“You’re so mean…” Chan whined, suddenly feeling shy. You just laughed, and he made a mental note to get you back in the near future.

Lee Know:

“Min, are you sure I can’t help?” You asked, leaning against the kitchen island. Minho stood across from you, dutifully chopping vegetables to add to the stew he currently had sitting on the stove.

“I’m sure, just sit there and be patient, hm?” He told you curtly, staying focused on his knife work. You groaned, watching him chop up the vegetables longingly.

Minho was the cook in your relationship, you knew that. He could whip up just about anything if he had the recipe for it, whereas you had a track record of ruining instant ramen. Still, you always wanted to help him out in the kitchen.

After another ten minutes, you were feeling restless. Minho had moved on from chopping the vegetables and was now monitoring the stew while it simmered, waiting to add in everything else so it could cook all together. And his back was turned to you. You eyed one of his wooden stirring spoons and an idea crossed your mind.

Carefully, you approached him from behind, spoon grasped tightly in your hand. As soon as he turned around and stepped away from the stove, you held the spoon out in front of you.

“En garde!” You exclaimed, wielding your culinary weapon. Minho gave you a wildly unimpressed look.

“Are you secretly five years old?” He asked, moving your spoon aside with one hand, walking by you. You huffed and turned around, watching as he searched through the refrigerator. “Seriously, I go to all the trouble to make you food and you can help but be child-,” Minho cut himself off with a grunt when you poked his ribs with the spoon as he went to reach for something.

“I got you, Min. You’re dead now.” You told him, unaware of what you were doing. When he didn’t respond, you poked at him some more. “Hello? You good?”

Minho held out for all of five seconds before he began to giggle and try to scurry away from you. He smacked your spoon out of your hand and backed up as much as he could in the small kitchen. An evil smirk adorned your face.

“What, you done ignoring me now?” You asked, creeping towards your ticklish boyfriend menacingly.

“Honey… please, let’s just- let’s talk, okay? You wanna help me cook?” You laughed at Minho’s begging, secretly loving when he got like this.

“Nah, it’s too late for that now. I wanna hear you laugh.” With that, you lunged forward while Minho tried to dodge to the side of you. You caught him around the waist as he went, and wasted no time in digging into his hips. He screamed and clawed at your hands, breaking out into silly giggles immediately.

“Nohoho!! Nohohot fair!!” He cried out, leaning against the island once he gave up trying to fight off your quick hands. His laughs were belly laughs now, getting deeper and more intense as you abused his worst spots.

“Not fair? I think it’s totally fair, actually. You were being so mean to me! I think you should apologize.” You told him, acting as if you were actually upset. He tried to shake his head for a moment, before a well placed jab to his upper ribs had him keeling over.

“AH!! Nahaha!! Please baby!! Ihihi’m sorry!!” Minho’s voice was raw from the laughter, but he did manage to apologize so you let him go.

“Alright, you’re forgiven.” You let him go, pressing a kiss to his back and rubbing his hips briefly. “Let me help out next time, okay?”

Minho took a moment to gather himself, before turning around and giving you an annoyed look. “Fine. Just don’t be so childish then, hm?” He tugged you into his chest, pressing a searing kiss onto your lips. You squeaked in surprise, before he pulled away, biting back a smile. "You're so annoying..." He muttered and returned to cooking.

Minho's words nearly got him wrecked again, but you were hungry and his red ears told you all you needed to know. He was whipped for you, just like you were for him.

Changbin:

A whiny “Babeee” was all that you needed to know that your dark rapper was home from the gym.

“In the living room, Binnie!” You called back, setting your book down. Changbin came around the corner soon after, hair wet from a shower and a pout on his face. You sat up a bit, opening your arms in an invite to sit with you.

Changbin took it immediately, flopping down next to you and letting you wrap him up in your arms. He buried his head in your shoulder and let out a groan. “Missed you…” He mumbled into your skin.

“I missed you too, my love. How was the gym?” You asked, rubbing light circles into his back.

“‘S fine…” He trailed off, and you could tell he had more to say.

“But…?” You prompted, kissing his head gently.

“Hurt my shoulder…”

This news was surprising to you. Changbin was always so safe in the gym, never lifting more than he should and never using incorrect form.

“What? How?” The question left your lips sounding slightly more worried than you meant it. “Sit up baby, let me see.”

Changbin sat up, looking bashful. “I tried to lift too much… usually I increase by 10 pounds, but today I increased by 20.”

“Oh Binnie…” You sighed. “Which arm?” He gestured to his right shoulder. Gently, you touched the muscle there, pressing lightly until he flinched. It seemed to be the worst on his inner bicep. “Want me to try to roll it out?”

Your boyfriend nodded, looking kind of pitiful. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He was always so confident at the gym, this mistake must’ve been really frustrating. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his pouting lips, rubbing his arm comfortingly.

“I’ll be right back.” You told him, going to find his little muscle roller stick. It looked like a rolling pin with bumps on it, and it was meant to help sore muscles heal faster. Originally, you had bought it for yourself, but once you started dating a gym rat it became a communal item.

You returned quickly and instructed Changbin to lay on the ground with his right arm raised above his head. “Okay baby, I’m just going to roll this up and down your arm. Tell me if it hurts too much.” You explain, kneeling beside him. He nodded and shut his eyes, brow drawn up in preparation for the inevitable pain.

Beginning slowly, you rolled the small foam roller up and down his muscly inner bicep, pressing firmly. Changbin let out some groans, face scrunched as the pressure built up. You knew it would end up hurting, it always did. Rolling out your muscles was a real chore.

“You doing okay?” You asked, to which he nodded. You kept it up for another few minutes before you lightened it up. “I’m gonna go lighter now, okay?”

The light, gentle rolling of the foam was a sharp contrast to the deep pressure he had felt moments earlier, and when it approached his armpit, Changbin’s eyes snapped open.

“Wait-,” He exclaimed, trying to swallow the giggles threatening to burst forth.

You seemed to be none the wiser.

“What?” Once again, the roller approached his armpit, and this time, Changbin couldn’t help but stutter out a small laugh. A teasing grin grew on your face. “Oh? Does this maybe… tickle?”

A blush blossomed across his cheeks immediately, and Changbin shook his head. frantic. “No! No it really doesn’t, but I think I’m done now, so- AHH!”

You rolled the ridged massager right into his armpit this time, causing him to scream. He desperately tried to put his arm down and roll away, but you had him pinned with a knee on his elbow. He couldn’t help but break out into his goofy giggles once he realized he had no where to go.

“PLEHehase!! Bahahby!! It tickles!!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side. Of course you knew he was ticklish, but opportunities to torture him never presented themselves so nicely. How could you let this one pass you up?

“Oh, so now you’re going to tell the truth? I thought it didn’t tickle?” You asked, and Changbin simply threw his head back, his giggles becoming louder. (Part of that was your fault, as you did start trailing your fingers against his sensitive skin after the roller left it)

His squirming got more and more intense, and since he was already injured, you didn’t want him to get more hurt. Reluctantly, you got off of him and helped him sit up, massaging the top of his shoulder with your hands while he caught his breath.

“That was… really mean…” Changbin said, panting a bit in between words. He still wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side. You giggled and pressed a kiss to his hurt shoulder.

“Sorry Binnie, you were just too cute.” Changbin blushed again at your words, and shook his shoulders in the way he did when he got flustered.

“Yeah? Your Binnie is cute?” He asked, pursing his lips for a kiss.

“The cutest.” You confirmed, leaning forward to grant his wish.

Hyunjin:

“Darling, hey…” A gentle hand shook you awake. You blinked at its owner blearily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Jinnie? What’s wrong?” You asked as you made out the figure of your boyfriend kneeling over you. His hair was pulled back away from his face and he was smiling at you softly.

“Nothing’s wrong, you just fell asleep. I didn’t want you to ruin your sleep tonight.” Hyunjin told you, petting your hair once before getting up from the side of the couch. You sat up, suddenly feeling lonely.

“Where are you going?” You asked, watching as he headed towards the hallway. He turned back towards you and you realized his clothes were covered in smears of different colors.

“Painting, you wanna come watch?” He asked, turning his head to the side as he did. You nodded, unwrapping yourself from your blanket cocoon and getting up to follow after him.

Hyunjin laughed when you reached him, kissing your head gently. “You’re so cute…” He murmured into your hair before leading the way down the hallway.

Once you were in the small studio, you took in the half finished art piece that he was working on. It looked to be a portrait of an old woman who seemed to be staring right back at you, smiling kindly. She didn’t have hair or the top half of her head yet, so you figured that was next.

Hyunjin stood behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist. “I’m working on painting aged faces… do you like it?” His voice was soft and close to your ear. You leaned back into his touch.

“Mhm… she’s lovely. Reminds me of my grandma.” You told him, and he let out a huffed laugh behind you.

“I’ll keep that in mind, hm?” You nodded at his words, turning to press a kiss to his cheek before he took a seat at the small stool before the canvas. You took a seat in another chair, settling in to watch him paint.

After about 30 minutes, you still felt drowsy, and in an effort to stay awake you decided to distract Hyunjin a bit. You had spotted a fluffy old paint brush sitting by his art supplies. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in years, and you decided to change that.

“Jinnie?” You called out, getting up to grab the paint brush.

“Yes, love?” He answered, currently perfecting the shape of grandma’s hair.

“Wanna play a game?” You asked, coming to stand behind him, hands rubbing his back mindlessly. Hyunjin glanced at you over his shoulder, confusion etched into his brow.

“What game?”

You giggled at his innocence. “I’ll show you!” Suddenly, you lifted up the back of his sweatshirt to expose his skin. “You guess what I’m writing, okay?”

“Okay? But- GAH!!” He cut himself off with a yelp as your fluffy paint brush made contact with his back. You felt him begin to shake beneath your hands as you worked on writing nonsense all over his skin.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna play?” You absolutely knew what was wrong. Your boyfriend was insanely ticklish. He couldn’t even stand you tracing shapes on his back when he was wearing heavy jackets- he was just too ticklish.

Hyunjin was doing his absolute best to hold back his giggles. The feeling of the brush against his skin sent shockwaves through his body, and it was all he could do to stay still in that moment. Any sign of weakness would be a ticklish death sentence.

You, on the other hand, were having a blast. It wasn’t every day you got a chance to exploit Hyunjin’s ticklishness, so you weren’t about to give it up now. The brush slowly found its way to his side, the feather light touch on one of his worst spots finally causing him to break into giggles.

“Wahahahait!! Waitwaitwaitwait- baby PLEASE!!” Hyunjin pleaded, slumping forward on the stool and trying to squirm away from the evil brush.

You didn’t reply, just pressed a kiss against his shoulder before you went in for the kill. While you swirled your brush against his side, your free hand massaged his other side.

Hyunjin lost his mind, practically falling off the stool in an effort to get away from your attacks.

“AHHH!!!” He shrieked, now on the ground. You followed him, sitting on his long legs as he tried to escape. The brush was abandoned, and instead you just tickled him wherever you could reach.

“NAHAHA!! PLEHEHEASE!!” Hyunjin cried, grabbing for the hands currently clawing at his ticklish belly. You giggled along with him, heart overwhelmed with adoration.

“Yahhh, you’re so cute Jinnie! I need to do this more often!” You exclaimed, digging your thumbs into his lower belly and vibrating the muscle there.

Hyunjin threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut and a large smile on his face. His witch-like cackles filled the room as he eventually gave up fighting back, instead just laying there and taking it.

“My baby is tired hm? Okay, I’m done.” You decided, halting your attack and instead laying down beside Hyunjin. You pulled him into your body and let him lay his head on your chest while you played with the hair that had been knocked loose from his updo. Hyunjin was breathing heavily, but still nuzzled into your touch as the two of you stared up at the ceiling.

“What was that for?” He asked after a while, and you giggled at him. Hyunjin looked up at you, offering you a glare and a pout as you laughed.

“I just wanted to mess with you, I couldn’t help it.” You explained, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He grumbled something that you couldn’t make out. “What was that?”

All he did was shake his head, and something told you to be on guard for the next couple days. Just in case Hyunjin decided to take revenge.

Han:

“Baby! Come listen to this!”

“Ji! Don’t yell, I’m right here.”

Han gave you a sheepish grin as he took off his headphones, turning in his rolling chair to face you. You were sitting on the couch of the studio he had taken over for the evening, just keeping him company and being an occasional beta listener for his new tracks.

“Sorry baby- I didn’t realize how loud I was talking.” Han said, flushing a bit. “But come here, I want you to listen to something.”

You did as you were told, sitting beside him in a rolling chair of your own. Han tugged you even closer and handed you his headphones. You put them on, giving him a look that said “let’s see what you’ve got”. He laughed and clicked play on the track he had queued up.

A trap beat began, quickly followed by a funky melody. Immediately you liked it, and leaned forward to watch how the audio layering changed on the program while you listened. Unconsciously, you placed your hand on Han’s knee while you listened, keeping the beat with your pointer finger.

“Wow!” You exclaimed when the track finished, moving the headphones to sit around your neck. “That was amazing Ji, seriously. I can’t believe how creative you are! That was like nothing I’ve ever heard before, how do you do it?” You asked, excitedly squeezing your boyfriend's knee as you turned to look at him.

To your surprise, Han was bright red and biting his lip. “Baby? What’s wrong, are you feeling okay?” You asked, suddenly concerned.

Han coughed awkwardly, nodding. “I’m fine, just warm suddenly.” He wouldn’t meet your eye.

You frowned. “If you say so, but let’s go home if you’re not feeling well, okay? I can’t have you getting sick on me.” You said, squeezing his knee once again as you went to get up and grab your jackets.

“AH-,” He squawked out as you did so, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. You stopped in your tracks, before turning to look at him.

“Are you ticklish?” You asked, and Han’s heart sank. He had been dreading this question since you started dating.

“What? Me? No, what a crazy question! I would never- NAha!!” You cut his rambling off with another sharp squeeze to his knees. Han began to giggled freely, realizing he wasn’t getting out of this without a fight. “Baby, baby please- just think about this okay? Don’t- don’t tickle me!”

There was no reasoning with you. An evil grin spread across your face and you pounced, squeezing and scribbling at his knees, slyly sneaking your fingers inside the rips in his jeans to tickle his bare skin. Han squealed, laughing immediately as he tried to roll away from you or at least push your hands away.

“Bahahaby!! Nohoho!!” He whined out in between giggles, making small whimpering noises when you continued your torture.

“Sorry Hannie, I can’t help it if you’re ticklish!” You teased, only letting up your attack when he began to kick out at you. He may be cute, but tickling him wasn’t worth getting kicked over.

Han giggled to himself for a second longer, before glaring at you. You simply stuck your tongue out at him and turned to grab your things. When you did, he grabbed you around the waist and tugged you down onto his lap. Before you could even protest, he began to tickle you like mad, making sure you laughed just as much as he did.

It was a while before the two of you actually went home.

Felix:

“Leonardo DiCaprio used to be so cute… what happened?” You sighed, laying on top of Felix while the two of you watched Titanic for the millionth time.

“I think his head got bigger- is that even possible?” Felix replied with a laugh, running his hands through your hair.

You laughed with him and gave him a teasing look. “I guess so. But I’m just gonna say that your head better stay the same size, okay?”

Felix made an offended noise at your words. “Hey! What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

"I dunno, Lix. What do you think it means?" You laugh, nuzzling into his chest.

"Uh uh, no. You don't get to be cute right now!" Felix said, trying to hold back a laugh of his own. He reached over and plucked the remote off the coffee table. "No more Titanic for you, it's making you goofy."

"What? Hey! Give that back!" You whined, reaching for the remote in his grasp. Felix shook his head, holding it just out of your reach.

"Nope, I'm turning it off! Sorry baby." At these words, you panicked, desperately wanting to continue watching. And desperate times called for desperate measures.

Just before Felix could turn it off, you grabbed his chin, tilting it down so you could press a heated kiss to his pretty lips. When you pulled away, Felix looked like you had just given him the most mind-numbingly wonderful drug to ever exist. In his daze, he accidentally brought the remote back into grabbing range. You snatched it out of his hand quickly, sitting up with a victorious cheer.

"Haha! I win!" You cried, waving the remote around. Felix groaned, sitting up as well and giving you a pout. "Take that, Lix!" To add to your gloating, you used the remote to quickly jab him in the ribs.

Felix certainly wasn't expecting that and grunted in surprise, bringing a hand to cover the spot you jabbed.

At first, you were worried you hurt him. "Baby? Did that hurt? I'm sorr-," You cut yourself off when you saw the light blush rising to his cheeks. "Did that tickle?" You asked, laughing out in shock.

Felix's cheeks turned dark red immediately, and suddenly he was up from the couch and running towards the bedroom.

"Hey! Get back here!" You yelled out, getting up to chase him down.

Felix had run to your bedroom and he didn't even have enough time to shut the door behind him before you were on him. Quickly, you had tackled him onto the bed, hands finding purchase on his lean hips. You began squeezing and Felix screamed in protest.

"AHH!! NAHAHA!!" Felix cried out, his laughs loud as he tried to pry your hands off his hips. You just laughed along with him, swinging a leg over him to straddle his thighs.

"And to think all of this could've been avoided if you didn't try to steal the remote, hm?" You lamented between giggles, skittering your tickling fingers up to Felix's ribs. He let out another scream, throwing his head back as you began to teasingly count his ribs.

"NOHOHO!! DOHON'T DOHOHO THAHAT!!" The words were hardly intelligible through his screeching, but you understood well enough.

"Do what? This?" You played dumb, but dug your thumbs into a particularly bad spot under his third rib. Felix's hips bucked beneath you aggressively, nearly throwing you off. His laughter fell silent soon after, his hands clawing at your thighs and his face nearly turning purple.

You rolled off of him, rubbing his chest lightly and giving his shoulder kisses until he caught his breath. When he did, he turned his head towards you, blond hair all in his face, and let out a sigh of pure exhaustion. You giggled and pulled him into your chest.

He fell asleep soon after, leaving you no time to apologize for being a tickle monster. Hopefully the cuddles would make up for it.

Seungmin:

"Min! Come look at what I'm making!" You called excitedly from your place on the couch, working on your latest crochet project. It was a hobby you'd picked up recently, and after mastering some basic stitches, you decided to try to make something special.

Seungmin appeared from around the corner, t-shirt crumpled and sweatpants riding up on his long legs. He was rubbing sleep from his eyes and he looked kind of grumpy. "Whaaaat?" He whined, flopping down on the couch beside you.

You giggled at his appearance and ruffled his hair. "Were you napping? You should've told me, I would've kept quiet." Seungmin just grumbled in response. "Anyway," you held up your project for him to see, "Look! It's PuppyM!"

The PuppyM in question was your crochet project. You had found a template online and you decided to recreate it to surprise your boyfriend. The stuffy was definitely sort of wonky looking, but you tried your hardest and you thought it had come out okay.

Seungmin, apparently, did not feel the same.

His eyes widened as he took in the Skzoo's appearance, and suddenly loud, mocking laughs escaped him. "Whahaht the heheck is that?" Seungmin snickered, trying to grab for it.

You held it out of his reach, making an offended noise at his words. "It's PuppyM! I crocheted him..." You whined, feeling disappointed by his reaction. "I thought you'd like him..."

Seungmin sat up, still laughing about it. "He's so squished! What happened?" He exclaimed. You frowned at him and grabbed one of the pillows on the couch, smacking him with it.

"You're a real jerk, Kim Seungmin." You turned away from him with a huff. You took PuppyM and tried to finish the stitching on him, but you felt so mad that it wasn't going well. The crochet hooks were not behaving.

Meanwhile, Seungmin was feeling pretty guilty. He didn't realize you were so serious about the project or else he wouldn't have laughed like that. He held the pillow you smacked him with and stared at your back silently, wondering if he should apologize.

Seungmin called out your name gently. "I'm sorry, baby. That wasn't cool and I-," You turned back toward him quickly, frustration clear on your features.

"Oh now you're apologizing? Yeah, seems about right. You know, I worked so hard on this!" Your words were angry and you jabbed him with your crochet hook to emphasize your point. Instead of arguing back, Seungmin let out a squawk of laughter and clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening.

An evil grin spread across your face and you set your project down, moving towards him on the couch.

Seungmin scooted away from you as much as he could, already beginning to beg for mercy. "Baby, baby please. I'm sorry, okay?"

"What are you sorry for? Hm? Because whatever it is, it seems like you need a bit of a punishment." You spoke lowly, moving to cage him in beneath your body. Normally, this would be sexy, but now Seungmin was blushing for a different reason.

Before he could get another word out, you slipped a hand up his shirt and dug into his side. Seungmin bit his lip, desperately trying to hold in the laughter that was threatening to spill from his lips. It was working until you began to vibrate your thumb deep into the muscles in his stomach.

"NAHahaha plEHEase!! I'm sohohoryy!!" Seungmin cried out between laughs, trying to hide his face in his shoulder while his hands grabbed at you in protest. You simply giggled at him, blowing air into his ears when he turned his head.

"You were so mean to me, Min. How am I supposed to forgive you?" You asked, pretending to think while your hand destroyed his ticklish stomach. You made a humming noise and pressed ticklish kisses wherever you could, causing the tall boy to squeak and hiccup around his giggles.

"I'll do anything!! Nohoho mohohoreee!!" His words were pleading, but you still didn't feel satisfied.

"Ah! I know." You stopped tickling him, getting up to sit on his waist. "You tell me just how much you love my PuppyM and I might forgive you, okay?" Seungmin, flushed and teary eyed, nodded. Before he could catch his breath enough to tell you what you asked him to, you threw his shirt up, pressed your mouth to his lean stomach, and blew one long raspberry into his skin.

Seungmin screamed, thrashing beneath you as the raspberries just kept coming. "NAHAHA!! PLEHEHEASEE!! PUPPYM IS- GAHAHA!!! I LOVE HIM!! STAHAHAPP!!" Seungmin could hardly get his words out, and his laughter fell silent just after. You blew just one more raspberry before wiping your spit off his tummy and pulling his shirt down.

"There, was that so hard?" You asked, smiling down at your thoroughly wrecked boyfriend. He only whined in response, pulling you down to lay on top of him. You heard his breathing even out as you cuddled him. "You gonna fall asleep again?"

A sleepy kiss was pressed to your temple, along with an "mhm" from Seungmin before he fell asleep beneath you. You smiled a bit, feeling your heart swell from the amount of love you held for him, even if he was kind of a meanie sometimes.

I.N:

"Thanks for letting me do this, Innie. It means a lot." You said, pulling out your makeup supplies and setting it all down on the table. Jeongin was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, staring up at you nervously. You had asked him to be your model for a project at your beauty school, and he had agreed without thinking. The two of you hadn't been dating for long, and now that he was here, he felt kind of anxious.

Jeongin nodded, offering you a small smile. "It's nothing. I want you to do well on this project so it's the least I could do."

You smiled and leaned down to press a light kiss to his lips. "You really are the sweetest, you know that?" Jeongin blushed and looked away, but he couldn't help but smile when you giggled at his reaction. "Okay, I'm gonna start now. Just stay still, hm?"

He sat like that for a while, letting you pat various powders over his face. You painted pastel shadows onto his eyes, highlighting them with lots of glitter and sparkle to fit the theme of the project. When you finished with his face, Jeongin looked like a fairy.

“There! You wanna see?” You held up your small handheld mirror to him, and Jeongin nearly gasped. His makeup had been done countless times by many different people since he became an idol, but something about the way you accentuated the curves of his face made him feel really pretty. “Do you like it?” You asked softly, rearranging his hair lightly so he could see more of his face.

Jeongin nodded, still staring at himself. “You’re amazing…” He murmured, dropping the mirror from his face and looking up at you in wonderment. “You’ll definitely get high marks on this project, just you wait.”

You laughed at his words, a soft blush rising to your cheeks. “You think so? I think it’s just because I had an amazing model to help me out.” You grabbed something else from the table and your long, fluffy kabuki brush. Jeongin had seen those before and remembered them because of the cool name. “Alright, I’m almost done. I just need to do one last thing.”

Jeongin nodded, seeing you were holding a jar of fine body glitter. “Where does the glitter go?” He asked.

"I was thinking of dusting across your cheeks and your neck, just to highlight the colors on your face," you explained, unscrewing the lid of the jar and dipping your brush into it. "Is that okay?"

"Uh y- yeah! Yes, that's fine." It wasn't really fine, if he was being honest. Jeongin knew how... sensitive his neck was, and he wasn't wild about sharing that information. But you looked so excited, how could he deny you?

You gave him a beaming smile and began to brush the glitter over his cheeks. That spot wasn't too bad, but now you were gathering more product on your brush and-

"Ah!" Jeongin cried out, grabbing your wrist when the brush made contact with his neck. Upon realizing what he did, your boyfriend blushed and looked away, slightly nervous for your reaction.

You giggled, patting his shoulder. "Are you ticklish there?" Jeongin nodded, keeping his gaze on his lap. "You're so cute..." You cooed, tilting his chin up so he'd meet your eyes. "Can I keep going? It'll be over soon."

Jeongin blushed once again, but nodded anyway. You smiled, once again bringing the glittery brush up to his neck. Instead of freaking out or trying to stop himself, he let his giggles flow freely as they came. His eyes squeezed shut and his dimples came out as he cringed from the sensation, which caused you to ooh and awe over him once again.

"Are you really this ticklish? I'm barely touching you!" You couldn't help but tease him, entranced by his cute face and melodic laughter.

Jeongin did his best to stutter out some words. "Yehehes ihit's bahad!" The brush danced up to one of the spots beneath his ear, which made him squeal out and try to hide in his shoulder. "AHH! Nahaha!!" He was back to grabbing at your wrist.

This time, instead of trying to will him to take his hand off so you could move, you used your other hand to jab into his armpit. Jeongin let out another soft scream and clamped his arm down over your hand, leaving the brush free to finish its work. You kept your hand in his armpit, just as encouragement to let you finish up.

"Bahaha!! Nohoho!! It's so bad!!" He cried out, beginning to thrash in his seat as both his underarms and neck were seemingly tortured at the same time. You giggled at him, and worked on the last little area of his neck before you finally let him have a break.

"I'm sorry, Innie. That must've really tickled, hm?" You asked, setting the brush down. "I'm done now, not to worry."

Jeongin's breathing was a bit labored, and his face was on fire, but he looked more happy than anything. "It's okay, it did tickle but... I didn't hate it..." He admitted, once again not looking at you.

You raised an eyebrow as you packed up your makeup supplies. "Oh? I'll have to explore that more later..." You sing-songed teasingly. Jeongin let out a small whine at that, to which you chuckled.

"Come on, I need to take pictures of you, pretty boy."

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