#//thank you for sending this in dear friend :3

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[bamgyuuuri]

hiii can u do the boys when they love another member’s gf? i love angst hehe and i love your works!

⤷ washing machine heart ┈ ot5.

pairings and tags. lovesick!ot5 x members'!gf . angst . yearning . guilt . suppressing feelings . denial . longing . inner turmoil/conflict . lmk if i missed any!!

word count. 0.9k

short note ... AAA i love love love this req! thank you so much for sending me this, anon! and so so sorry that this took so long too T_T nevertheless, i hope u like it <3

soobin .ᐟ

my soobie toobie woobie :( i feel like he would be the type to silently shoulder his emotions, sometimes even trying his hardest to convince himself that his feelings aren't real or that they didn't matter. he'd go and overanalyze every interaction, making sure he isn't overstepping any boundaries he made himself,,, around her, even with the others present, he'd be more reserved and shy, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by nervous laughter, maybe even going as far as avoiding eye contact altogether or making up excuses to leave the room. he would also maintain a safe distance, actively making sure he's never put in the same room as her. in the end, he'll choose to simply suppress his emotions and feelings entirely, prioritizing the happiness of his dear friend and the peace of the group over his own </3

yeonjun .ᐟ

oh jjunie,,, at first, he'd be in denial; he'll try to convince and tell himself that it was just his fleeting thoughts, that his heart totally did not just do multiple flips after seeing one of his bestfriend's girlfriend smile of all people. but the more he dwells on that thought, the deeper his feelings become, until it's too much to ignore. yeonjun would find it hard to be his usual self around her, trying to play it cool, but in the end, he crumbles completely. as a deeply loyal friend, thinking of and having feelings towards his bestfriend's girlfriend would weigh heavily on him, and he might even try to overcompensate, showing excessive support for their relationship by saying things like, "you're so lucky to have her!" or "you guys are perfect for one another!" so he doesn't feel as awful (it doesn't work) :(((

beomgyu .ᐟ

an actual hopeless romantic :( it would most probably hit him the hardest once he actually realizes his feelings,, his first reaction would be disbelief; he would likely tell himself too that it was just a tiny crush, but the more he suppresses it, the more he'd find it impossible to ignore the pangs of longing and guilt that comes with it. he'd be more "silly" and hyper around her, a mask he puts up so his real feelings doesn't show, only to later regret it once he's alone with his thoughts. as a way to silently express his yearning, he would stay up late, using his talent as an escape, writing songs about her and pouring his emotions into music rather than towards her directly. ultimately, he would try to distance himself one way or another too, even if it left him quietly hurting </3

taehyun .ᐟ

my tyun :(( his level-headed nature would make him approach the situation with as much logic as possible, even though emotions are never entirely rational. he would keep his interactions with her polite but distant, avoiding anything that could be misinterpreted, but in private, taehyun would sit in his room with his headphones on, letting sad or introspective songs play as he processes his emotions. he wouldn’t cry easily, but the pain would show in subtle ways, like in the far-off stares he’d have while thinking about her. but then his pragmatic side would berate him, reminding himself that these feelings were unproductive and unfair, but the ache would linger, quietly gnawing at him. nevertheless, his respect for his bestfriend's relationship would outweigh any hurt he's feeling, letting his feelings fade overtime for everyone’s sake :(((

hueningkai .ᐟ

my sweet sweet hyuka </3 as someone who values the happiness of those he loves, he’d be overwhelmed with guilt the moment he realizes he has feelings for another member’s girlfriend. it would leave him confused and conflicted—he’d wonder how his heart could betray his loyalty to his bestfriend in such a way. kai would likely smile and joke around her like usual, but there would be a noticeable hesitation in his voice, and he might fumble with his words or avoid looking directly at her, as if afraid his feelings would be exposed. his kindhearted nature and empathy would push him towards a resolution: he’d choose to quietly let go of his feelings, no matter how much it hurt, finding solace in the fact that love also means wanting what’s best for others—even if it means stepping aside :(((

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[ronmanmob]

🚪 / from Zach!

Scars Meme

Though he'd earned a myriad throughout his life, Ron's scars had certain places upon him they liked to cluster. Some ran across his scalp beneath his hair - the legacy of glassings past, like the dusting of hack-marks above his left ear. Fist fights earned those that lived on his knuckles; working with his hands those that'd come more innocently along his fingers, near his wrists, on his forearms. These were boxes that'd slipped, a misadventure with a box cutting knife, barrels that'd been caught wrong. They weren't intentional. They'd just occurred.

The ones that lived higher up on his left arm though, right in the crook of his elbow and up and down from there...Those he'd meant when he'd made 'em. Those...he didn't like seen. Which was why, when Zach's sudden appearance caught Ron with rolled up sleeves and bare, pockmarked skin in that rare-seen place, he half turned away with a huff-come-growl of protest; yanked his sleeves down; buttoned his cuffs; snarled--

"Th'fuck y'starin' at?"

--heatedly but that heat...It wasn't anger. Not really. It just had its sound to it. Ron never had shocked well, least of all when something he didn't want exposed was.

[neolxzr]

stares at you with my big sad eyes. ritsuleo. perhaps?

important brainstorming session (in the middle of the floor)

[kamipyre]

@ptternminds sent in: Sarang's hands suit themselves perfectly to the task at hand, even though they're the hands of a killer. It's almost a shame, how easily she forgets they are, when she buzzes around Suki like a butterfly, a dragonfly, as opposed to the wasp she actually is. She's holding up two pairs of earrings. Right hand: silver, long enough to graze the jaw ever so slightly if the head is tilted just right, fine and soft to run through a palm. Left hand: the other, similar, but rather than appearing like a string, small light pink hearts cascade in a shorter length, ending in a larger heart carrying most of the weight between her fingers. Her eyebrows waggle. She lifts the left hand slightly higher. "You gotta pick a pair. It's all about exploring new styles, come on." ((i was writing this and realized in spite of Sarang being a WHOLE LOT ORDER when I think about these two, Suki feels more mature? in how she handles the past, in particular? BUT ANYWAYSD FDKLHGL))

UNSURPRISINGLY, SHE'S ALWAYS HAD A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH FASHION. On one hand, it is a means of expressing herself– if she dressed well enough, smart enough, or maybe even outrageously enough, would they notice that before her face? She's dreamt about it before, always wondering, always milling on the possibilities, but never quite bold enough to take the risk.

( Of the things to be timid around, it just has to be fashion doesn't it? Perhaps this is something she could ask her co-workers for advice once upon a time– man or woman or enby, most are decidedly bold in their fashion choice. From leather jackets to fur linings, to frills lining the edge of magenta overcoats, they are brazen in their choices. Confident and closed to any if not all critiques. )  

Of course Suki barely knows where to even start. It's not like she can ask her co-workers ( or at least the ones she actually still likes ) anyways– it occurs to her that just like with other areas in her life, perhaps getting a mentor is key to learning. It can't be a man though, no matter how well dressed they are and unfortunately, if not all of them happen to be well, men. Again, it occurs to her that having no femme-aligning friends is coming to bite her in the ass.

But even if it was a woman, her mentor would need to carry herself in the same manner as all the others: relentless, patient, and wise. Pro-active too– Suki's learning has always been more hands-on. So it'd have be someone like–

Jing holds up the two earrings, which as far as Suki is aware, are only different by the hearts dangling on the end of the right one. She tilts her head. "What about the rest of the outfit? I thought people are supposed to pick the accessories after they have one." Something she remembers from the one too many dramas she's watched. Would Jing also have seen and learned from them?

( Nowadays, her job is busier than ever, but in a strange contradiction, Jing has been around even more...almost as if she knew most of the people whom Suki used to hang around are gone. )

But of course, Jing, who handles everything with a light touch, insists on making a choice. That, Suki can empathize with. There is only so much time for one to deliberate before the waiting becomes the choice. And Suki?

Doesn't have the luxury of time. Especially not in her job.

She points to the one on the right. "I like the hearts but–" She pouts, exasperated. "I need them to look at me as an equal. I'll look more like a kid if I wear the other one."

[prommethium]

People I wanna know better! ✨

@fismoll7secinv Yzz!! My love!! my darling!! Thank you for the tag 💛 love reading you!!

Tagging: @oneiro-nautical // @shooting-the-stars // @jadedzer0 // @quilleth // @rabbitkissed // @nautilus-deepblue // @subtlybrilliant // @111wszystkichswietych // Feel free to ignore or not answer any of the following <33 so many love and kisses to you all!!!!

Last Song? Ever dream by Nightwish I've been listening to them since I was twelve, somethings never change :')

Favourite colour? Oh so many! but I love black, yellow and pink.

Currently watching? Tian Guan Ci Fu season two and Killing Eve (not really loving Killing Eve, but haven't found something to obsess over, if any of you want to recommend something, please go ahead, I love horror and suspense.)

Currently reading? The three body universe (gorgeous piece of art, best thing I read this decade so far,) and fic rec by Jade (currently emotionally bleeding, THERE WAS NO WARNING OF HURT NO COMFORT.)

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Relationship status? cursed.

Current obsessions? You know me, ALWAYS tgcf and erha, but recently hellcheer (a little sub-fandom from Stranger Things, I still can't believe this exists JUST BECAUSE OF LESS THAN 5 MINUTES OF INTERACTION BETWEEN TWO CHARACTERS!!)

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Selfie? sure, but blurred because of reasons. and will delete in some days. //

[howls-memeing-castle]

Wait no but I actually really fuck with Gawain (GAH-win) as a name

I don’t know that I could be a Gawain - to much muchness to it whereas I find myself lacking muchness much of the time - but I think I may like to be

[zumicho]

stamped

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

SYNOPSIS : your brother’s best friend is a travelling volleyball sensation. he sends him letters from every country he visits, & you could care less. till.. he starts addressing them to you.

PAIRING ; oikawa tooru x reader SMAU 📼

TAGS / CWS : none of the art is mine unless stated, language, sexual & kys jokes, suggestive, borderline angsty, childhood enemies to lovers *wink wink*

completed 𖦹°⋆ TAGLIST closed

♥︎ .ᐟ.ᐟ FILM BRO POSERS + IWA ; SIDE HOES

────────────────────────

mailbox boy — where it all started

01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . ✎ 05 . 06 . 07 . 08 .

signed sealed delivered — the end of it all

the letters : bonus

────────────────────────

author’s note: it’s over! sad to say this is probably the most poorly executed work on my account — but I’m keeping it up for the sake of those who hold it dear to their heart <3 thank you for reading

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[pretty-little-mind33]

Sergei Kravinoff x waitress fem!reader

Summary: Sergei takes you home after an incident at your work.

Genre: hurt and comfort, SMUT (mdni)

Warnings: the beginning is very hurt and comfort and then end is filthy smut, sexual harassment, creepy men, pinv, unprotected sex, kinda dubious consent bc reader is in an emotional state (there is still consent but yk), fingering, biting, bruising and marking, blood, hint to animalistic/rough sex, size kink, cum play, breast play/sucking, hint of a pain kink, overstimulation

~ inspired by this and similar asks! thank you dear anon <3 and thank you @lady-jane3 for the translations! ~

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

You're the prettiest woman he has ever seen. You're so gorgeous he's almost convinced he's made you up as some form of torture: a fantasy he knows he can't have, and still, whenever he opens his eyes you're there in front of him in your sheer tights and that mid-length skirt that hugs your ass so nicely.

It's almost criminal.

He's already in deep and he hasn't even spoken a word to you. 

You have always been intrigued by the group of rugged looking men who walk into the club, especially the ones who speak in a language you don't understand. You've grown accustomed to their orders and you know that the one with the scar on his upper lip reaches for your ass whenever he can, so you've learned to avoid serving near him, and you know one of the younger ones—the one with the ocean blue eyes and dark chestnut curls, always tips you the best. 

And yet, he's never spoken a word to you outside of a grunt of acknowledgment. 

He just stares from afar, as if calculating your moves, like he's a predator ready to pounce on his prey. It's intimidating. 

The first time he'd come around alone, you nearly asked your friend to cover his table, but curiosity had won you over and you'd learned his name. You also learned that his voice is gruff and that he holds incredibly good eye contact when he speaks. He'd tipped you more than necessary that night, sending you a little smile as he left, the innocent flirting you had both been guilty of lingering in the air. 

By the sixth time he comes in, you're more comfortable around him. Even when you see he's with the other men, you can't help the smile that illuminates your features as he walks in. You almost bounce over, composing your excitement as you stand beside him. "Hi, Sergei," you say, fumbling for your little notepad (not that you need it anymore, you're just nervous).

The men snicker, mumbling something in what you learned to recognize is Russian. They nudge Sergei's arm, leering at you. Your expression falls a little, holding your breath as you keep your eyes on him. 

"Hi, зайка (bunny)," Sergei grumbles, ignoring the laughing. "Our usual—please."

You nod, walking to punch in their orders. Sergei's jaw tightens as the men around him start making unnecessary comments on your behalf, and he's happy you're too far away to hear them.

He's never wanted to hurt anyone as bad as he does these men right now. The way they speak about you makes his stomach churn, which says everything considering he's used to this behavior from the men his father associates with. God, he's really regretting coming to the city even more than he already was.

He watches, making sure you're still preoccupied, before he leaves for the bathroom. He's only supposed to be gone for a few minutes so he's back when you return but, unbeknownst to him, you return earlier.

You walk over, carrying the tray of drinks in one hand. You hesitate when you see that Sergei isn't sitting there anymore and the men seemed to have suspiciously quieted down upon your appearance. 

You shake away the nerves and plaster on your best fake smile and avoid the man with the scar on his lip as you bend over to place the drinks down. You can hear them chuckle, talking in Russian, and suddenly you feel someone else's hand on your ass, grabbing at you. 

You're used to the groping around here. Rich, powerful men think they can have whatever they want and you're taught to just turn away and ignore them. Keep your head down, as your boss says, so you angle yourself differently, reaching over to put Sergei's drink in front of his seat. 

When you do, you feel an arm purposefully skim your shirt over where your nipples are under your bra and you jolt up in surprise. After another short round of laughter, a hand on your arm to prevent you from turning away, and then a harsh slap to your ass, all the remaining drinks fall from the tray and spill all over them and your uniform. 

You hold your breath, immediately crouching down to gather the broken glass, but as soon the shards puncture your skin and the men begin to shout in anger, insulting you, you feel threatened.

You stand, yanking your arm away from one of the men's grip before he can grab you and force you closer to him. You run into the girls bathroom, slamming the door behind you and fumbling with the lock, your vision blurry from your tears. 

When Sergei comes back, he narrows his eyes as he sees the broken glass on the table and on the ground. His eyes narrow on the blood from where you'd hurt yourself, smelling it instantly. "What happened?" he asks, standing in front of the table.

He can't help but look around, looking for you. 

"Your woman is difficult, boy, you should consider whipping her into shape," one of the men chuckles, sniffling. He's half joking, teasing Sergei over his obvious affections for you, but Sergei's eyebrows scrunch in disapproval. 

"What did you do to her?" he growls, grabbing the man by his collar and lifting him so he's standing. His gaze is murderous. The older man barks out a laugh. 

"What did I do? You mean what did we do?" He smirks, clearly taunting, "We all wanted a feel—" The man doesn't finish his sentence because Sergei punches him, blood splattering across another man's cheeks, as the man he punches stumbles back into the bench. 

"какого хрена (What the fuck)?!" The man groans, blood falling from his nose. 

Sergei's jaw tightens and he leans forward, grabbing one of the forks, and stabs it into the man's hand before he can lift himself up. The man scream of pain, eyes clamped shut. The other men pause. They remain sitting because of the anger in his eyes as he twists the fork. He doesn't speak, which is possibly more intimidating than if he was to say anything. 

He pulls the fork out, letting the man's hand bleed freely, and he doesn't stick around to hear the whining as he turns to find you. He can smell you, your faint perfume, the smell of your blood from a wound, and worst of all he can almost sense your fear. Without hesitation, he's forcing the one-room bathroom door open. 

You gasp and stand straighter, instinctively throwing a roll of toilet paper at the intruder.

Sergei dodges the hit easily and stares at you in shock. "Did you just throw toilet paper at me?" He asks, bewildered. You're standing by the tiny sink now, hands gripping the ends as blood pours from your fingers and tears well in your eyes as you look at him. 

He can hear your rapid heartbeat.

"You broke in!" You whimper, the tears overwhelming you as they fall. You break and Sergei's gaze softens.

He walks over, taking your hand gently, pulling you into his chest as he leans against the fancy bathroom's wall. His hands find your hair and he holds you close. You sob into him and you whine your words: "I'm sorry I dropped all the drinks!"

Sergei couldn't care less about the drinks and pulls away, his large hand cupping your damp cheek as he takes your hand in his other one and examines the cuts. He runs your hand under water, testing the depth of your injury. They aren't very deep.

  "Did they touch you?" Is all he asks, his gaze hard. 

You hesitate and he moves his other hand so he's gripping your chin now. "зайка (bunny), did those men put their hands on you?" 

He swipes his thumb over your skin. You nod, looking so beautifully broken and Sergei's heart squeezes. He can only imagine what they did for you to be crying. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead and looks down at the cuts on your hand again. His jaw tightens again and he wraps them up with paper towel, stopping the bleeding. They should heal quickly.  

"They shouldn't even be allowed to breathe in your presence and yet they have the audacity to touch you?" He grumbles, his voice hoarse. "I'm going to kill them."

You shake your head, holding onto his sleeve once he turns to leave the bathroom and beat his father's associates to a pulp. You stop him, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Please, stay with me. I- I feel safe with you." You say it so quietly but he hears you plainly. He looks at you, all the desire for revenge that was poisoning his blood replaced by the need to hold you close. To promise that no man will ever hurt you like that again. 

"Shh, I'm here," he whispers slowly, pulling you in again and holding behind your head. Your nose collides with his chest and you inhale his scent. His arms tighten around you, fingers in your hair as he twirls the strands. He inhales the scent of your shampoo, wishing he could nuzzle his head into your neck to smell your natural scent. He holds in a grunt and simply tightens his hold on you. He'll hold you as long as you need it.  

"Can you take me home?" you ask and he can't think of anything more he'd like to do then make sure you're home safe. 

Your apartment smells like you. He notices all the little things about you from the way you keep your apartment and he smiles. You sniffle, sliding off your shoes and throwing your keys onto the entrance table. You pause, looking at the bloodied paper towel wrapped around your hand and you open it. You see that the cuts have stopped bleeding and you throw away the makeshift bandage. 

"Do you want a drink?"

Sergei turns, a little surprised you would ask. He shakes his head. "I should go home," he says and you grab his arm, shaking your head. You look up at him, touching his cheek and the prickles of his beard. You shake your head. "No?" he asks, confused. 

He can see the tears in your eyes and he tenses. 

You lean up, whispering, "No. I want you. Make me forget about them," I say, no hesitation in your voice. You can still feel the other men's hands on you, their cruel voices ringing in your ear, and you hate it.

You've wanted Sergei for so long now. You yearn for him to make this situation better.

Sergei's blue eyes burn into yours. He can't smell any alcohol on you but he's a little hesitant. "What are you asking for, зайка (bunny)?" he whispers to you, his large hand running up and down your sides, squeezing your hip. 

You kiss him, hoping to answer his question that way. You expected a little hesitation, but the moment you kiss him, Sergei's lifting you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his torso, as he deepens the kiss. His hand finds your hair, tugging on the strands, as you try and catch your breath from the kiss. 

"Are you sure?" he grunts into your neck, licking a strip up to your jaw as he nibbles on your skin. "You have no clue what you're asking of me. I'm going to ruin you." He means it too, you can tell, and he finds his way to your bedroom in no time. 

As soon as he drops you to the bed, you look up at him. You already look like a mess and his cock twitches in his pants. He growls, teeth flashing as his eyes turn yellow for a split second, and you scramble up to the headboard, your chest rising and falling. 

"What are you?" you ask. You feel like prey and arousal pools in your stomach. 

You don't receive an answer as he practically tears his shirt with one hand, climbing onto the mattress and pinning your hands to your sides. You're breathing heavily but you aren't scared. He looks almost animalistic now but you still feel safer with him than any man you've met at that club. He kisses you again, pushing you down further into the mattress. 

"I can smell you, little one," he laughs, kissing behind your ear as he inhales your scent. "Everywhere," he laughs, one of his hands releases your wrist and skims down your stomach with his knuckles. He presses a palm over your skirt and you catch his gaze. 

You nod, using your free hand now to touch his cheek as if to convey your trust. You can't pretend this isn't exactly what you've dreamed of for months. 

"You're mine," he growls, ripping your skirt and biting down on your skin. You gasp, wrapping your leg around his hip as his hand pulls down your panties. "After tonight, all you'll feel is me."

You moan, feeling the light sting on your shoulder from where he'd bit you. You know that you'll be covered in bruises and marks once he's finished with you but you don't complain, instead losing yourself in the way he feels; his his fingers open you up for his cock, the grunts and groans he's making in your ear as his lips explore your skin. Everything that had happened before this moment is a now lost memory and all you can think of is him. 

You feel him against your thigh once you realize he's removed his trousers and he's as big as you imagined. "You won't fit," you warn him, breathlessly as you pull up his face and look into his eyes. He just smirks and kisses your lips almost sweetly. 

"I will," he says and nuzzles his nose into your neck. He gently spreads your legs wider and you let him. You relax onto the pillow, your eyes locked onto his. You watch him, nails digging into his shoulders as you draw blood the moment his cock breaches your entrance and you let out a pained whine. 

"Shhh, зайка (bunny)," he says, going slower so you can take him all. You're so wet but it isn't enough. Sergei spits on his fingers, bringing them down to add more wetness and help him ease inside you. "I got you," he promises and you nod, focusing on the future pleasure instead of the pain. 

You lift up as he bottoms out, and you bite into him, making him in return as you muffle the cry of pain. Sergei hisses, moaning as he stills inside you for a moment. He waits patiently until you're ready for more. He's used to being patient.

All great hunters are. 

"Okay, move," you almost demand, relaxing again and he smirks. 

"Impatient little thing," he teases under his breath, rocking his hips forward. It's still a little painful, but in a way that draws moans and whines from your lips. You arch your back, the buttons of your shirt straining against your breasts. Sergei grunts and moves the hand that was on your hip to rip your shirt open, taking your bra with it. His mouth attaches to your nipples, teeth grazing them so you moan. 

He's marking your breasts now, hips slamming into yours. He was right, are are taking him all in. "Sergei," you moan, head falling back as your eyes flutter shut. You're breathless and already exhausted as he draws an orgasm from you. 

"Mhm, you feel so good around me." Is all he says, still fucking into you. He bites and sucks at your breasts, his large hand palming against your hip bones as he holds you down. You keep your eyes half-open, looking into his as he fucks you again and again and takes another orgasm from you. 

By the third, he's flipped you over onto your stomach, hips up, as he pounds into you with no mercy. The only sound now is your whimpered moans and the creak of the bed. "Please," you whine and you can barely keep your eyes open anymore. You have no clue how longs it's been.

"Please what, зайка (bunny)?" Sergei grunts. He's close. He can tell you're at your limit and he doesn't want to push you. He slows his thrust, focusing on the pleasure as he reaches his high.

You whimper into the pillow as he fills you up, his cock slipping out and spilling more cum onto your back. You whine, eyes fluttering shut at the empty sensation. 

Sergei catches his breath, pausing to rub the cum into your skin as he slides his hand up to your hair and leans over your back. He pulls you up, turning your head and kissing your cheek gently. His beard scratches against your cheek. "Hi, little one," he smiles and gently strokes your hair now. "Are you okay?"

You hum, letting him guide you onto your back as he rests his head between your breasts, right over your thumping heart. He slides his calloused hands over your sides and presses kisses on your bare skin. You smile, eyes fluttering. He's as rough a lover as he is a gentle one. 

"Dove, are you okay?" he repeats, slotting his thigh between yours as he takes a breath. It's late now, exhaustion overtaking you as you rest your cheek on his head. You lift your hand, gently scratching your fingers in his hair. Sergei smiles and kisses your stomach again. 

"'M okay," you say happily, "better than okay. I just wanna lay here. With you." 

Sergei nods, tightening his hands around your waist. He soothes you, his voice low. "Go to sleep, зайка (bunny), nothing can hurt you when I'm here. я обещаю (I promise)." 

You nod, feeling safe as his breath mixes with yours. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep knowing he's there. Knowing that now that he's around you don't have to worry about any sleazy men or unwanted touches.

He'll protect you, you're damn sure of it.

[mountain-in-springtime]

🌹❤️🥀 Hello beautiful!! February is the month of love and someone wanted to show you some by sending you this! What better way to start the month by sending this to a person you love! 🥀❤️🌹

allie!!!! this is so sweet <333 i love you so much!! i hope february is infinitely kind to you and brings you all the love in the world

[thebestsetter]

"3...2...1...go!" You said, pressing the record button and smiling

"Hello everyone! This is Bachira Meguru!" He smiled, grinning at the camera you were holding and pointing at himself

"Hi! My name's Isagi Yoichi!" He also smiled and waved a little while you adjusted the camera in the tripod

"Itoshi Rin." You rolled your eyes at his tone

"And today" Bachira made up for his friend's lack of enthusiasm "We're going to do a livestream answering questions from fans! So don't be afraid to send them! Our helper is going to read as most as possible so we can respond!" Of course, by helper, he meant you, so you just turned the camera a little (without showing your face) and waved.

"Hello everyone! I'll try my best to read them all! Just write the name of the player at the beggining of the sentence so I can know who to ask!"

In instants, lots of questions flooded the chat

"Wow! There's a lot of questions" you adjusted the camera back to the athletes.

So, here's the thing: you were a sports journalism student, which means you were usually the person the "Blue lockers" asked for help when it came to interviews and other things envolving the media. Also, you were the japanese team's official journalist, so you did lots of interviews with them and they felt more comfortable around you.

Ah, there's other thing worth mentioning: you were the one and only Isagi Yoichi's very first girlfriend.

"This one's to Bachira!" You smiled and mimicked that good old journalist way of speaking "How did it feel to carry the Barcha team on your back during the Neo egoist League?"

"Well... I did play pretty good" he smirked, chest puffing with pride "So I'm gonna say it felt great. But there were other good players, like Otoya."

"And who else besides Otoya?" Isagi teased, crossing his arms "We both know damn well you were the only ones to participate in the team's goals"

"You're the one saying it, not me"

"Next question" Rin interrupted, clearly not wanting to be there and wanting this livestream to end as soon as possible

"Since you're so eager to continue" you smirked "This one's for you, Rin. It's from 'It0shis_lover'" he rolled his eyes at the name "'Let's go on a double date: you and me plus Isagi and his cute girlfriend'" you smiled "Why, thank you for the compliment, dear!"

"No." Rin estated without any emotion

"Don't be rude, Rinrin!" Bachira smiled "Why not?"

"I don't want to watch Isagi and his girlfriend almost eating eachother with their eyes. He's such a loser it makes me sick"

"Hey!" Isagi cut him off, blushing a little "I am not a loser!"

"Sure. And you also weren't pouting when the person from the comment called your girlfriend 'cute'" Rin retorted

"I wasn't!" Isagi blushed even more

"Yes you were~!" Bachira shook his friend's shoulder while laughing

"It looks like the chat is going crazy with this brand new information!" You laughed "Guys, Isagi do acts like a loser. He got better after 3 months of dating, but he was so clueless at the beggining!"

"Hey! You're supposed to back me up here, love!" Isagi crossed his arms and pouted at you

"I can't lie, can I?" You smiled at him (which made him smile back, since he couldn't look at your smile without feeling the urge to smile too), gazing back at the chat for a while "People are asking 'why do we think he's a lovesick loser'. Who wants to answer first?" You teased

"Oh! Me first, me first!" Bachira shot his hands up high.

He put his finger in his chin in a thinking position, then suddenly perked up (if you squinted your eyes enough, you could almost see a light bulb appearing on the top of his head) "Oh! Do you guys remember that time when Reo accidentally used and broke her hair tie?"

"I do!" You laughed behind the camera "Do you guys want me to tell you the story?"

"No way you're going to expose me like that" Isagi sweatdropped

"People want to hear more about Japan's hero Isagi Yoichi, it seems" you smiled "Alright. You ask and you shall recieve!" You cleaned your throat and began "It all started when I gave him my favorite purple hair tie, telling him this exact same sentence:"

"Yoichi! I know you have an important game tomorrow, so I decided to give you a good luck gift!" You smiled, your hands behind your back so he wouldn't see your gift. Your boyfriend was just heading to his daily practice when you stopped him.

"Really? You didn't have to, babe!" He blushed a little, curious about the gift "You are my good luck charm already"

"Do you guys get what I mean?" Rin rolled his eyes "He's so corny it makes me wanna vomit"

"Don't interrupt her!" Bachira exclaimed "Continue, please"

"As I was saying..."

"...you are my good luck charm already"

"I know, but I wanted to" you giggled, grabbing one of his arms and strechting it with one of your hands while the other stayed behind your back "Close your eyes and open your hand"

"Sure..." Isagi smiled gently and did as you told him.

He then felt something circular and soft in his hand. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Your gift was...

"A hairtie?" He asked, confused "I don't even have enough hair to use it"

"First of all: it isn't any hair tie. It's my favorite one" you pouted "And second: you don't use it in your hair. You wear it around your wrist, like a bracelet" you smiled, taking it from his hand and putting it in his wrist for him (which made him blush hard. Even the smallest brush of your skin against his made him go insane).

He analysed the hair tie with such a complex gaze that you couldn't help but feel a little self conscious about the gift.

"Y-you obviously don't have to use it, you know?" You smiled shyly

"No." Isagi said "I'll wear it. Even if it was the ugliest thing ever -which it isn't - I'd still wear it, cause it's from you. Thank you. Thank you so much for this. I'll treat it with care, I promise" he caressed your cheek "In fact, I'll even take it to practice with me today, just so I can get used to it!" He smiled, his eyes glowing

"Sure, babe" you giggled, putting your hand on top of his "And you're welcome. Now go! We don't want you to be late."

"Okay, okay. I'm going" he laughed, and then stopped when he was closing the door

"Thank you again!"

"Don't mention it"

"And then when he got to the training" Bachira said "He showed it to everyone. And when I say everyone, I do mean it. Even Ego couldn't escape it!"

"Of course I did!" Isagi shouted "It's the greatest present I've ever got. Well, at least it was, before that stupid purple haired idiot with attach and trust issues broke it."

"It's clear he still holds a grudge" Rin rolled eyes, and -wait, was that a smirk on his lips?- "Everything was going well, until Reo asked if anyone had a hair tie, since he forgot his at the dorms and couldn't play well without one. Meanwhile, Isagi went to the showers and left his 'good luck gift' in his locker, which was open. Someone probably passed by and made it fall to the floor, so Reo picked it up and used it."

"He literay stole it!" Isagi argued "He should be arrested or something!"

"Yoichi, no one's arrested for stealing a hair tie." You giggled (your cheeks were already hurting from how much you were laughing today)

"And then while that dumb son of a -"

"Yoichi!" You interrupted like a mother scolding her kid

"While the lovely Reo Mikage was playing with it" he continued "I was looking for it everywhere-"

"He was almost crying" Rin side eyed him

"No one told me that before!" You said, amused "Did you really cry, love?"

"He did. He began to sob a little-"

"Let me continue!" Isagi blushed even more "And then I saw it on Reo's hair, and..."

"I remember that part!" Bachira said "When Isagi saw the hair tie, he said:

"What. The fuck. Are you doing with that hair tie?"

"What?" Reo asked "Oh, is it yours? I didn't knkw. You don't even have enough hair to use it"

"That's none of your business. Give it back, now."

"Alright, alright! My bad! Calm down, it's just a hair tie."

"I'm not gonna ask again. Give. It. Back."

"Sure" Reo tried to take it off of his hair, but realized there were knots stopping him from completing the action "Shit, it's not coming out" Reo said "Wait a second, I'm gonna pull harder"

"Be careful. Break it and I break your fucking spine."

"Of course I'm gonna be careful! When was I not careful-"

Cleck.

Oh oh.

In Reo's hands, laid the now broken object.

"Oopsie?" Reo smiled nervously while putting the hair tie on Yoichi's hands "I'll buy you another, don't worry. An even more expensive one, even."

"Shut up. I'm gonna kill you." Isagi said, seething with rage "How the fuck do you even manage to break a hair tie? Are you dumb? That's the only plausible answer. You're so dumb that you still keep going back to your so called "best friend" who left you to rot. You're stupid. You're useless. You're just an shitty, poor excuse of a player. You should just give up on football already, motherfucker. Why don't you just jump off a cliff bla bla bla..."

"Reo still has nightmared about that day" Rin stated "Isagi humilliated him"

"He was stupid. How do you even break a hair tie?"

"And then he got home and told me sorry at least 100 times" you laughed "I just gave him another one and thought everything was solved. I still want to know what happened to the broken one though"

"Don't worry about it, babe. I love the new ones"

"Ugh. I actually hate you both" Rin said "Not to mention that this wasn't the only time Isagi did something that proves he's a loser. There are other examples. Like, when they first meet and she told him what was her favorite series, who he spent the whole night awake binge watching it just so he could have something to talk about with her"

"It was good though" Isagi retorted

"Or when the U-20 guys spoke to her" Bachira added "And he got so jealous that he swore to - how did he word it? - Ah! He swore to 'step on their head and use their pathetic habilities at football as a stepping stone for his growth'"

"They were literally eyeing her up and down!"

"He also told me one time: 'I'm gonna score a goal for you today!' And scored none" you smiled fondly at the memory

"Hey! Don't bring that up!" Isagi had smoke coming out of his ears from how embarassed he was "Whats with you guys and making fun of me today?!"

"Whatever. Even if he's a loser, I love him. So don't laugh at him guys. He may be a loser, but he's my loser" You joked. But you should know that your words always have an impact on Yoichi. And it's not subtle.

He was now was red as someone who stayed 5 hours on the sun withou sunscreen. Maybe even redder.

"...why would you say this!?"

"Someone's blushing~"

"SHUT UP!"

"This live was a fun idea" you laughed "The next one's for Isagi: 'Care to share your girl with me?'"

"...What's the user of this motherless fucker?"

Needless to say, the livestream ended up getting millions of views. People were amused and curious about yours and Yoichi's relationship, so he was flooded daily with questions about you on interviews. Tik tok was filled with edits of you both. Even fanfiction was made!

Journals now referred to him as "The lovesick japanese player", and fans jokingly called him a loser. At least he thinks it's a joke. He hopes so.

Whatever. They didn't need to know how every goal he made was dedicated to you and only you. Didn't need to know that you were the one comforting him after the games he lost, patting his head gently and letting him cry or shout on your shoulder. And they definitely didn't need to know that he kept the broken hair tie, which he ties in his football shoes' laces every game, kissing it as a good luck charm (cause it was his good luck charm. You were the one to bring his good luck.).

Cause, as you said, ha may be a loser, but he was your loser, and he'd wear that title with pride, just as he wears your hair ties. And just as he hopes you'll wear his last name soon, too.

Afterall, if he wears your hair ties with so much happiness, imagine him with your wedding ring.

God, he really is just a lovesick fool.

~ A/N: not proofread!

Masterlist

[ronmanmob]

From Zach!

"--Tha's a lot more checked boxes than I f'ort, aye?" Ron mused, eyeing the slip of paper curiously. He'd not meant for them to fall into a local boozer's game night, but this 'ere lark they were having with the bingo was a definite plus to the evening. If nothing else, he understood better the sort of relations he and Zach might come to have. "-Ere" Ron said, sliding Zach's sheet back to him. "Did yours too."

[kasiers]

A LITTLE LONGER — SHOYO HINATA

pairing: brazil!shoyo hinata x reader

synopsis: a lazy morning waking up with your dear boyfriend while he tries to convince you to stay in bed with him a bit longer <3

contains: gn!reader, pure fluff, established relationship, timeskip!shoyo hinata and even more fluff !! slight spoilers since this is timeskip

word count: 1.1k

a/n: based on this req ! when i was editing this the wc was originally 998 so i decided i might as well push it to 1k+ LMAO

Soft morning rays peeked through Shoyo’s blinds, casting an ethereal golden glow over everything in his small bedroom. The light bounces off the glossy covers of the various books scattered on his floor, ranging from volleyball training manuals to English learning guides and the Dragon Ball DVDS numbered from the very first until the latest.

You stirred lightly in your sleep, feeling a gentle pressure on your neck which pulled you awake. You shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. As you moved, his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him as your back pressed against his chest. He hummed softly, his warm breath brushing against your skin. 

The gentle buzz of the city outside his apartment was a comforting distant backdrop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen filled your nostrils. Must be his roommate, you thought. 

You shift slightly in his embrace, still amazed that you and Shoyo can lay comfortably on his small twin size bed. You frown softly at the weight of Shoyo’s arms wrapped over you thanks to the muscles he’s built up. You gently lift his arm, catching a glimpse of the large delivery bag by the end of his bed. You carefully hold his arm up as best as you could without waking him up, turning around to face him. 

When you had finally settled into a more cozy position, you were met with his sleepy expression which made your heart flutter. You could tell he was half-asleep and tired, likely trying to recover from his games that had run late from the night before presumably with that high school friend of his that he told you about.

You nestled closer to Shoyo, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you once more, keeping you in a comfortable lock.

“Good mornin’ baby,” Shoyo murmurs, his voice thick with sleep as he presses a soft kiss to your head, taking in the time to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.

“Good morning, Sho,” you replied back, your voice equally hushed. You look up at him, though he doesn’t open his eyes as he’d rather not be greeted by the sunlight just yet. His hair at the moment looked unkempt and wild, you can’t help but form a soft smile on your lips. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice a drowsy murmur as he tries his best to fight back his fatigue. How could he fall back asleep when your presence was like a warm blanket he never wanted to let go of? He could stay like this forever.

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You could smell a hint of his cologne and natural musk. You threw your arms over him, both your legs tangled with his and the white blanket draped over both of you. 

You traced small lazy patterns on his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. Your actions gave him a sense of belonging, grounding him in this very moment. 

“Yeah, I did. How about you?” you murmured against his skin, your voice soft, “ You must’ve been exhausted after last night.”

He felt the vibrations of your words, sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m okay,” he says quietly, his fingers gently fiddling with the ends of your hair.

You both lay there silently, seconds turning into minutes stretching into a blissful eternity. You finally had a sense of peace that you felt like you hadn’t experienced in a long time, thanks to your busy work schedule. 

“I don’t want to get up,” Shoyo admitted, his grip on you tightening slightly. “This is too nice.”

You laughed softly, nudging him gently as you pushed off him just a bit to look up at his face and hum in agreement. “Mhm, I know Sho, but don’t you have training today? Are you seriously trying to slack off on your responsibilities?”

Shoyo sighed dramatically as he nuzzled his face into your hair, “baby, would ya kill me if I asked for a few more minutes?”

You shifted your gaze up at him, your lips curving into a soft smile. The warm sunlight streaming through the blinds shined down on his sleepy yet energetic face, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else but the comfort of his presence. 

You knew you had to get up soon— there was work waiting for you, and Shoyo had training scheduled for the morning. But the longer you looked at his bright, hopeful eyes, you found it hard to resist. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, completely giving up, your voice a gentle tease. “I’ve got work, and you have training today. We can’t just lie here all day.”

Shoyo’s lips held a small cheerful grin, it was as if he wasn’t just worn out minutes prior, his eyes sparkled with a mix of charm and enthusiasm. “Come on, lemme enjoy this time with you baby,” he says smoothly, voice filled with genuine affection.

He squeezes you gently as if to plead, you’d be lying if you said his energy wasn’t infectious, it was difficult not to deny him of such a request especially when he looked at you like that. “I’ll get up right after, I promise,” he added, his tone hopeful.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his persistence. It was hard to stay annoyed when he was being so affectionate. “You’re really trying to sweet-talk me, huh?” you said, shaking your head slightly but not pulling away. “Alright, fine. A few more minutes. But you better not be late for your training.”

His face lit up immediately upon hearing your words, muttering sweet and small thank you’s as he pulled you in even closer, nestling his face into your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Thank you… thank you baby…” he murmured, it was hard not to be charmed by his gratitude.

Once again, you found yourself sinking back into his embrace, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as it soothed you. Shoyo tightened his hold on you, his fingers brushing gently against your back securely. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was comforting while the soft hum of his breathing was like a gentle breeze that carried you into a peaceful slumber. 

Maybe you could call in sick to watch him and Heitor for the day, Nice would love your company after all.

[abbyshands]

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

series masterlist (coming soon ...) | series document | READ THIS | DAILY CLICK | PALESTINE LINKS | main masterlist

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks. 

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

[feenoire]

Heartfelt Veils II. A Doe Loves Its Wolf

stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ minors dni

word count: 6.2k

warnings: age difference (18/50), sexual harassment (cat call), fluff, angst, sexual tension, sexual acts.

summary: spending your 18th birthday with your stepdad ended up being an unforgettable day, one that will forever linger in your mind.

a/n: Joel quoting Romeo’s line in spanish, that’s the note. i hope you enjoy this chapter <3

series masterlist

The drizzle cascades outside, tapping the window of your bedroom. The pumpkin spice candle fills your room with its warm, comforting scent. You’re sitting on a chair, pen in hand, as you pour your thoughts into your diary at the study desk.

“Dear diary, I almost cry at the sweetness of October. Woken early by Joel, who made breakfast for me: avocado toast and raspberry juice. Days seep by like the stain of a raspberry on my pearl blouse. A week has gone by since I arrived in this small town, this new haven—Joel’s home. I could make a list of all the warmest things: my new chamber, forest saunter, delicacies, cold weather, the sleekness of his wood carvings, and Joel.

I’m afraid to admit it, but I think I like Joel, he’s like a sin worth hunting for. Something’s wrong with me because I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. My heart beats steadfastly for him, his brown eyes warm like the morning sun. For the first time, I feel like someone truly pays attention to me and genuinely cares what I have to say. I feel seen. Unlike the ghost I have been for the last seventeen years. He is flowers in my stomach. I always think of him before I fall asleep. Nightmares fade.

But I tried to convince myself that he was just being nice like most stepdads would do, because they can be kind at first but become total assholes later, that it was all just a pretense, they just want your mother, not you. That’s what I heard from my friends. But I truly hope Joel isn’t like that. That this feeling I have right now is just a phase, that he’s just a phase…”

The knock on the door startles you as you’re lost in your thoughts, letting them flow onto the book in front of you. In a panic, you quickly shut your diary and hide it in the drawer. Knowing you’d be dead if someone read it.

“Sweetheart, are you ready yet?” his deep, husky voice speaks.

“Yeah. I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Alright. I’m gonna wait outside, okay?” says he from behind the door.

“Okay.”

After his footsteps fade, you put on your jacket over your sweater and grab your school bag. Not wanting to make him wait too long, you quickly grab your walkman before running downstairs. There, you find Joel leaning against his black 1978 Ford truck, looking like a man straight out of a magazine.

Your breath hitches and your cheeks warm at the sight of him as you stand on the front porch. He wears a denim shirt under a brown jacket that hugs his frame, showing just how big his arms are. He is divine, like the Seleucid prince. It makes you flutter.

Like the gentleman he is, he opens the car door for you with a smile as you stride toward him. You can’t help but smile and blush at his lovely gesture.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say softly.

“Ain’t no worries, little girl.”

Little Girl. You like the way he calls you that, it sends a warm sensation to your core. You don’t know why. With the husky voice of his, you secretly wish he could whisper it in your ear.

Joel gets inside the truck and starts to drive. Meanwhile, your mother leaves for work early today. Joel told her that she could stop working if she wanted to and let him provide for her, but she said no, as work keeps her busy and she likes doing it.

It feels comfortable and calming to the mind as you look at the scenery through the car’s window. Observing the little town with its shops, parks, and sidewalks covered in fallen leaves. There’s an old man riding a bicycle, with ten dogs following him, stepping with their little legs. The sight brings a smile to your face. In the distance, a big mountain blanketed in fog. The weather is getting colder, as it nears November.

“What are you listening to?” Joel says, breaking the silence.

You don’t turn the volume all the way up on your walkman, so you can still hear Joel talking through the headphones.

“Um, just an old song from my mixtape.”

Joel smiles. “Why don’t you put your little mixtape on the stereo so I can listen to it too?”

Part of you is embarrassed at the thought of Joel listening to your playlist, or maybe you’re scared that he will judge you for it, without realizing how much you care about what or how Joel thinks of you. But a small part of you is delighted that you could listen to your favorite songs with him.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take off your headphones and put the tape in the player. The soft melody of Mazzy Star’s “Blue Light” fills the car.

Joel smiles as he listens. “Yeah, I’ve heard this one.”

“You have?”

“I have, it’s glorious.”

You smile, glancing at him. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You look like this song would if it were a person.”

His words make your cheeks flush. It’s the best thing anyone has ever said to you, especially when it comes from Joel. You try to shift the conversation back to him. “What kind of music are you into?”

“Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, David Bowie—”

“I love David Bowie!” you say enthusiastically.

Joel laughs softly at your enthralled reaction. He watches you with a look of admiration in his eyes. “Me too, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you whisper as you bow your head. Scolding yourself internally for losing your composure in front of him.

“Don’t be.”

The song changes to “Storms” by Fleetwood Mac as you look out of the window again, gazing at the white swans swimming on the lake, beautiful as a painting. Time seems to speed up, and soon you see the big wooden sign on the side of the road that reads, ‘Welcome to Lakewood.’

The car passes by towering trees as you approach the small town. You’re so caught up in the scenery before your eyes that you don’t realize Joel has been looking at you. The town is beautiful, much like Silvervale, but a bit bigger.

Finally, you arrive at Lakewood High School. The school is big and built with maroon-colored bricks. Forest trees stand tall behind the building. Joel pulls over in front of the entrance. Some students head inside. The parking lot is full of cars and motorcycles, with teenagers hanging around despite the forty-five degrees weather.

You feel nervous, and your hand is slightly shaking. But you don’t realize it until Joel reaches for your trembling hand and holds it, enveloping your small hand with his large, warm, and calloused one. The contrast between his rough skin and your softness is noticeable.

“Are you okay?” he asks calmly.

You look at your trembling hand covered by Joel’s. Trying to control your anxiety and take a deep breath.

The idea of starting all over again, introducing yourself to strangers scared you more than you realize. You’re scared of being perceived and what if you’re not able to find a friend? You’ve always been a wallflower at your old school, with only one or two friends.

But you push the thoughts away—you’re not going to break down in front of Joel. Instead, you try to focus on the warmth of his hand. It calms you down and alleviates your pounding heart and trembling body.

You nod. “Yeah, I-I’m okay.”

His eyes are full of concern. “You don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. I can take you back here tomorrow.”

“No, no, I’m okay, I promise.”

You don’t want to burden Joel, who already takes time before work to drive you here. You’re not going to let a little anxiety ruin your day, especially his.

“Are you sure?”

You give him a smile as a sign that you’re okay. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you for driving me.”

“Not at all.”

You open the car door and as you try to get out, Joel still clasps your hand, stopping you.

“Joel?”

His gaze is unwavering and intense as he looks at you. “Call me if you need anything okay? Don’t hesitate,” he says with his thumb gently caressing your hand.

Your breath hitches from the intense eye contact. The tension between you is palpable, making your heart race. Unsure if he can feel it or if it’s just you. The pulsing in your core returns and it starts to ache—you’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You rub your thighs together to ease the ache. Joel’s gaze shifts from your eyes to your thighs, and his eyes darken.

“Little girl,” he whispers.

You try to hold back the whimper at the sensation and the way he calls you. “I-I have to go,” you murmur.

You withdraw your hand from him and get out of the car with a pounding heart. You welcome the cool refreshing air and take a deep breath. No one has ever affected you the way Joel has, and you can’t comprehend why. Trying to calm down and gather your thoughts, you head inside the building without looking back and decide to find the front office to collect your schedule and the school map.

Time passes, and the school bell rings signaling the end of the school day. Finally.

You didn’t really pay much attention to your surroundings today. You spent your lunch break alone in the wildflower meadow in the forest behind the school, sipping the cherry cola you bought from the vending machine and smoking a few cigarettes. With your walkman on and your favorite book as your companion.

You got to know a few people from your classes, but not many. Some of the teachers were nice and helpful. The thing you hated the most was the boys hanging out in the hallway, whistling loudly at you as you walked to class. Shitheads.

The last class of the day was English, taught by the handsome teacher Mr. Wayne—according to the students. He’s around thirty, with light tan skin, brown hair, brown eyes, and a slightly graying beard. He’s the youngest male teacher at school, which is why most of the girls are after him. It seems like everybody pays attention to what he teaches in class, or maybe they just admire his looks. He assigned everyone in class a copy of Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare and asked them to write an essay about it.

After you leave the school building, you don’t call Joel to pick you up as he asked you to. Instead, you walk through the forest, but not too far from the road. Keeping your phone’s map open to guide you home.

The earthy and musky scent of the fallen leaves is prominent. The faint breeze gently blows through your hair and rustles the leaves scattered around you. The sky is getting dim, and you have no idea why. You check your watch—it’s only 3:20 PM. You’ve been walking for twenty minutes, with just thirty more to go until you arrive. So, you tighten the jacket around you and walk faster.

After what happened this morning, you don’t dare to face Joel, so it’s best to just avoid him. The way he held your hand, his eyes darkening as he stared at you, was all too much. What if he feels the same way you do and is struggling with it just like you? You swear it was there—the palpable force of tension and electricity between the two of you. Maybe you’re just crazy, imagining things that weren’t there, that it was all in your head. What is wrong with you? He’s your stepdad—why do you feel this way? You’re certain that if someone could read your mind, they’d put you in a mental institution.

Now that you’re alone, you let the tears fall from your eyes. Your heart aches as you wonder if what you feel for him is genuine. Joel is a very kind man and a great partner for your mother, and you’re just a dumb seventeen-year-old girl who holds a secret longing for him. You secretly pray to God that these feelings will fade away. Reminding yourself that you need to control how you feel and distance yourself from Joel from now on before something bad happens.

As you continue walking you hear a faint crunching sound on the fallen leaves behind you. Heart pounding, afraid someone might be following you. It turns out it’s a black kitten trailing behind you as you look back. It meows at you as you approach, and your heart softens.

“Hey, are you alone?” you say softly.

Of course, it only answers you with a meow. You look around but you don’t see another cat. The kitten is alone. You wonder where its mother is. As you kneel on the ground and inspect it, its fur is dirty and tangled, and one of its legs is crooked. It’s a girl. You can’t leave her here alone—what if she dies?

“Why don’t you come home with me?” you whisper to the kitten.

You carefully lift her from the ground and carry her with you. She purrs and snuggles into your jacket as you hold her small form gently in your hands. You smile at the sight.

“You’re okay now, let’s go home.”

The kitten occupies your mind now; all you can think about is getting her home, giving her a warm bath, and tending to her crooked leg. The thoughts about Joel leave your mind.

It’s 4:20 PM by the time you arrive home, soaking wet. Late because you had to take shelter from the rain under the bus stop pavilion, shielding the kitten in your jacket’s inner pocket. You cursed yourself for wearing a black mini skirt today, and now your legs are so cold they almost feel numb.

The driveway is empty, signaling that no one is home. You take the spare key from under the doormat and quickly get inside. You bathe the kitten and take a hot shower yourself, then tend to her tiny, crooked leg before falling asleep in your bed with her.

Unsure how long you’ve been asleep—whether it’s been minutes or hours. You feel a big hand gently caressing your head, which wakes you up from your slumber. You open your eyes slowly and adjust your vision; there you see Joel bent over looking at you with a face full of concern, and his hand on your hair.

“Joel?” you murmur.

“Little girl, where have you been?”

You rub your eyes and slowly sit up, gathering your consciousness. “What?”

He sits on the edge of the bed. “I called and texted you, but you didn’t answer. I told you to call me to pick you up. Then, I went to your school, and you weren’t there, I was sca—” he bows his head and takes a deep breath.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen Joel looks so scared. His eyebrows are drawn together, his jaw tense, and fear is evident in his eyes.

“Joel, I—”

“I’ve been searching for you everywhere, and your mom too—she was terrified. Where the hell have you been?”

You made everyone worry about you, and you feel so guilty about it. You should have at least let them know. Overwhelmed and too caught up in what happened this morning, you don’t dare reach out to him.

“I-I’m sorry, Joel. I was taking a walk home through the woods to… to clear my mind,” you say, your voice slightly shaking. “I’m so sorry for making you worry; I didn’t mean to.”

Joel’s face softens at your explanation. “But sweetheart, that’s like an hour’s walk.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“It’s still too dangerous, baby. You can’t just walk around the woods. What if you get attacked by animals or worse?”

“I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t ever do that again.”

Joel is a remarkably handsome man, even when he’s worried, and you can’t help but admire his beauty. In return, he meets your gaze, his brown eyes make you feel safe and warm. His hand tries to reach your face, but you turn your head away and shift the conversation. Joel pulls back his hand.

“I found a kitten in the woods, her leg’s injured. So, I brought her home,” you say, pointing to the kitten sleeping on your pillow.

A smile starts to form on his lips as he looks at the little creature. “I didn’t even realize she was there.”

“Is it okay? I can’t leave her alone.”

“It’s okay, little girl,” he says warmly.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say with a smile. “Where’s mom?”

“Downstairs. She’s upset, I’m gonna talk to her.”

“No, it’s alright. Let me talk to her,” you say. “After all, it’s my fault.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Unconsciously, you remove the blanket from your lap and climb out of bed, stepping over Joel’s thigh. The cold air and the rough fabric of his jeans against your bare legs remind you that you’re only wearing a t-shirt and panties. Joel clears his throat, his cheeks turning red. Embarrassed, you quickly apologize and stride to your closet, shutting the door behind you.

God damn it. How could I forget?

As you go downstairs, you find your mother sitting in the dining room. Joel was right—she’s upset, it’s evident on her face. You stand across the table as your mother’s gaze shifts from the window to you. Your heart feels heavy with guilt as you look at her.

“Mom, I’m so—”

“Where have you been?” she says, her voice elevating.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I was just taking a walk home, that’s all. I didn’t go anywhere else.”

“Well, you can’t just fucking disappear like that! We were looking for you everywhere. If Joel hadn’t told me, I probably wouldn’t have known.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold back your tears.

“No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t have fucking done it if you had known.”

Her words make your tears fall down your cheeks, and you sob quietly. Your mother is always like that—very strict about everything: where you go, what you wear, what time you come home. It’s as if she has been scared for you your whole life, and you never understand why. That’s why you are always cooped up at home.

“You go straight home from school from now on. Joel will pick you up, and no more taking a walk bullshit!” she exclaims. “You’re not going to let everything I’ve done to move here and protect you go to waste—”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but instead, she lowers her head and shakes it.

“Protect me from what?” you ask softly, but your question is met with silence. “Mom—”

“Go to your room!” she yells, making you flinch. “No dinner tonight.”

Without a word, you obey her and go upstairs to your room. In the hallway, you catch a glimpse of Joel sitting on his bed with the door open, his face full of concern. You close your door and cry into your pillow.

In the middle of the night, a knock on your door wakes you up. When you open it, you find a tray of food on the floor: a plate of salmon noodles and a glass of milk. It must be Joel; you know your mother wouldn’t do this. You eat the food with your kitten and then go back to sleep.

October 31

On Halloween day, you lie in the wildflower meadow behind the school like you always do every day during lunch break. Too overwhelmed by the crowd inside, especially the cafeteria, you’ve never eaten there, not even once. You don’t care, though. You love spending your time alone here, with no one to bother you.

The school hosting a Halloween-themed event, allowing students to wear costumes. With a pair of wings, a flowing white dress, and a crucifix necklace, you completed your Juliet Capulet costume. It honestly makes you feel angelic.

It’s your birthday today, and you turn eighteen. You wonder if there’s someone who has a birthday on Halloween as well. If so, they probably live on the other side of the world.

It seems like your mother and Joel forgot your birthday since they didn’t say anything to you. Which makes you feel a bit sad today. To celebrate your birthday, you bought a slice of chocolate cake from the vending machine. You don’t even know what to wish for as you want to blow out the candle, so you just blow it out and eat the cake.

A little while later, you notice a doe standing near the shrubs around the trees, not too far from you. She catches your eye, she’s beautiful just like the one in your painting. So, you get up from your spot and slowly approach her, stopping a few feet away so you don’t scare the doe. You wish you could caress her soft fur and give her gentle kisses. Her eyes are captivating as she looks at you. Maybe it’s your deepest desire that comes true right after you blow out your candle. This very moment makes you feel like you’re in some kind of fairy tale.

The doe slowly steps towards you, but suddenly runs away when she hears a branch crack behind you. As you look back, you catch a glimpse of a man, but he is quickly hiding behind a tree. Heart pounding as you come to the realization that it’s similar to what happened in your dreams. Without thinking further, you run back towards the school. Suddenly, it feels so far, maybe because you have gone too deep into the woods than you realized. All you can think is to run and run; your breath is heavy and your stomach hurts. You hear footsteps behind you, but you do not dare to look back.

Keep running, keep running!

Finally, you reach the school building. Knowing that there are many people around, you dare to look back, and there’s no one is following you. You stand at the edge of the school, confused and feeling like you’re losing your mind. But you’re sure that what you saw was real, not just some trick your mind wanted to see. Suddenly, a hand touches your shoulder, making you flinch and turn around.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

It takes you a few seconds to calm your breath and pounding heart as you look at the person in front of you. His face is full of concern as he looks at you.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Wayne,” you say.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you sure?”

“I just… I thought I saw something, but it’s nothing.”

He nods and speaks calmly, “Okay. Why don’t you just join the party inside with the other students.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.”

Joel picks you up after school like he always does. By the time you get home, the house smells like baked goods and cherries.

“Take a walk with me?” says Joel from behind you. His deep voice echoes through the living room.

You turn around and look at him. “Alright. But where are we going?”

He smiles. “You’ll see.”

Joel holds your small hand with his large one as he leads you into the forest behind the house, his other hand holding a picnic basket covered with a white napkin. When you ask him what it contains, he doesn’t answer.

You can’t help but secretly admire Joel’s veiny hand, side profile, and salt-and-pepper curls. He looks so good it makes your heart swell.

“Watch where you’re going, little girl,” says Joel, with a smirk on his face. He catches you eyeing him, like a moth drawn to a flame.

A soft blush tints your cheeks from being caught. “Why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?”

“Patience, baby.”

Walking in the woods again reminds you of what happened earlier. So, you stay cautious throughout the entire walk, hoping no one is following you this time.

A little while later, you arrive at the spot Joel wanted to show you. Hidden behind the tall bushes is a serene lake, where swans swim gracefully. The lake is surrounded by trees and bushes, making it feel like a secret garden.

By the side of the lake is a bone-colored picnic blanket stretched out on the grass, with a few unlit scented candles placed on top of it.

“Joel?” you say, shifting your gaze to him who’s already looking at you with admiration.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Overwhelmed with happiness, you hug him. “Thank you, Joel. I thought everyone had forgotten.”

“Of course, I didn’t,” he says, his lips brushing your hair.

Pulling back, you gaze up at him. “But mom did. She didn’t say a word to me today. When I woke up, she was already gone.”

Joel caresses your hair with his hand. “Your mom’s busy with work as usual, but I got your present from her.”

That makes you feel a bit better, at least your mother hasn’t entirely forgotten your day. She’s never been there, and you’re always home alone on your birthdays—just buying takeout and watching TV, nothing special. The last time your birthday was celebrated was when you were six. If you’re being honest, you don’t really like having your birthday celebrated. You hate getting older and seeing it as a reminder that death is getting nearer.

But seeing Joel surprise you with all of this makes you think that maybe you deserve it for once. You’re forever grateful that he came into your life and his kindness, for treating you like his own family and making you feel cherished.

The two of you sit on the blanket. Joel takes out the items from the basket while you admire the view. There are countless lavender flowers growing around the lake, and fireflies fly around, glimmering in the foggy air.

Joel takes out the most beautiful cake ever—a heart-shaped cake with pink icing and red cherries on top. He places a tiny candle in the middle.

You blush and smile so widely that your cheeks almost hurt. “Joel, it’s so beautiful. Did you make this?”

He grins. “Yeah, how do you know?”

“The house smelled like cake when we arrived.”

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, Joel, I really love this. Thank you.”

“You deserve this, little girl.”

Have no idea when this will happen again, you savor this beautiful moment and every small thing. You’re not going to let this day be forgotten.

Joel takes a picture of you with his beat-up phone as you blow out the candle. But the birthday cake isn’t the only thing he brings; there’s also grapefruit juice, brownies, chocolates, blueberries, and much more. The two of you eat together, adoring the view and the swans.

“Wish I could stay here forever.”

“You like it here?” he asks.

“Of course I do. I mean, just look at this place—it’s beautiful here,” you say with a smile. “You’re lucky to live here.”

He smiles. “Well, you live here too now, sweetheart. It’s your home.”

“Thank you, Joel, for letting us live with you and for everything.”

“I’m glad to have you here, little girl. It feels more like home now with people around. I’ve been alone for a long time; I came home to a cold house, and it’s warm now with you here.”

The idea of Joel coming to a cold and empty home tugs at your heart. You can’t imagine him being so lonely all the time with no one to care for him. He deserves love and comfort. It makes you a bit glad that your mother has come into his life to fill the emptiness and give him what he needs, even though you secretly wish you could be the one to give it to him.

“I’m gonna keep the fire warm for you.”

Joel’s face softens as he looks at you. “I know you will, sweetheart.”

Your heart warms as you gaze into those dazzling brown eyes and see the sincerity on his face. “I haven’t thanked you enough for everything you’ve done for me—the room, this wonderful birthday, taking me to school, making me breakfast every morning—”

“Sweetheart—”

“For letting Ponyo live with us—”

With a soft expression, he giggles at the mention of your kitten, and you giggle too.

“And so much more,” you whisper.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me for any of it. I’m doing it all for you, and I love every second of it,” says he. “It feels good to have someone to care for.”

You beam.

“So, how was school? Did you make any friends?”

At the mention of friends, your smile slowly fades. “Not really. I’ve been spending time alone. But it’s okay. I mean, I’m not really a people person anyway.”

He gives you a warm smile. “That’s okay, little girl. Sometimes it just takes time. But promise me, if something happens or if you need someone to talk to, you’ll come straight to me, okay? I’m always here.”

“I will. Thank you, Joel.”

You’ve never felt so heard before; it’s like a burden has been lifted from your shoulders. The two of you sit in silence for a while, savoring the peaceful moment.

“They’re beautiful, the swans,” you say.

“They look just like you,” says he, with a heartfelt tone.

You blush and smile, and frankly don’t know how to respond to Joel’s sweet words. Every time he talks to you, it’s as if poetry flows naturally from his mouth.

“Have I told you that you look like a damn angel today, sweetheart?”

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper and look at him, feeling his breath on your cheeks from how close you two are sitting. “That’s because I’m dressed as Juliet.”

“Belleza demasiado valiosa para ser adquirida, demasiado exquisita para la tierra,” says he.

Cheeks warm and heart racing at his words even though you don’t what it means or what he’s saying. Suddenly, it feels hard to breathe from the strength of the invisible string pulling the two of you together.

You keep your gaze on his eyes as you ask softly, “What does it mean?”

He gently bumps his forehead against yours, making your heart skip a beat. “It means you’re beautiful, little girl.”

It must mean more than that.

You try hard to keep yourself from grabbing his curls and slamming your lips to his, letting him take your breath away. He’s too tantalizing, like a forbidden fruit. But you quickly remind yourself that he is your mother’s boyfriend, not yours.

Joel slowly caresses your soft cheek with his calloused hand and leans forward until your noses touch. But you turn your face away and lower your head. Refusing to let yourself forget the reality.

Did Joel just try to kiss you? The thought races through your mind as you try to make sense of it, sending a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Can… can I open the presents?” you murmur.

Joel clears his throat. “Yeah, sure, sweetheart.”

Joel takes the wrapped presents out of the basket, and you glance at him, catching something in his expression—is it sadness? You’re not sure. But you try your best to brighten the moment again.

Your mother gifted you a cozy, beautifully knit sweater and a new pair of shoes. Meanwhile, Joel surprised you with an “Among My Swan” vinyl and a lovely wood carving of your kitten, Ponyo, which makes you feel as jolly as a child.

“Oh my god, Joel, this is amazing. Thank you!”

Without further thought, you throw yourself at Joel and envelop him in a hug. In return, Joel laughs softly, circling his arms around you and pulling you into his lap, enveloping your much smaller body.

“You’re welcome, little girl.”

The masculine scent of cedarwood and leather is strong as you bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting and arousing at the same time. You wish you could stay in Joel’s embrace forever, knowing that everything will be okay.

As you try to pull back from his embrace, Joel tightens his arms around you, holding you closer.

“Joel?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

He loosens his arms a little so he can glance at your face. From this close, you can see the texture of his skin—a little wrinkled around the eyes but soft at the same time. His eyes are rich, chocolate brown, but the pupils take over as they dilate when you lock eyes with him. His lips look soft with a natural pinkish hue, and his breath smells like coffee and grapefruit juice.

Joel Miller is beautiful.

His gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips as you start to talk. “Joel, I—”

He interrupts you with a bruising kiss on your lips before you can finish your sentence. His large hand lands on the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while his other arm tightens around your waist.

Oh my. You close your eyes and let him kiss you, feeling his beard rub against your cheeks and chin. Kissing Joel feels like you can finally breathe like he’s giving you his breath to make you feel alive.

Truthfully, you don’t really know what to do—this is the first time you kiss someone. Joel Miller is the one who takes it.

Your hands fist the back of his shirt and tangle in his curls as you moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. Joel groans into your mouth at the sound of your sweet noises. He takes it as an invitation, so he passionately explores your mouth with his tongue, stroking yours and getting lost in the dance.

“Tastes so sweet,” he murmurs between kisses.

His lips are a bit dry but soft, tasting like the blueberries he just ate—sweet and intoxicating. The kiss grows firmer, more desperate—something you’ve never felt before. He sucks on your bottom lip and slips his tongue inside again, leaving a trail of wetness.

You feel something hard pressing against your core, but you don’t know what it is. The warm sensation in your core worsens, pulsing to the point that it starts to hurt. You can’t hold back a whimper at the sensation and start to grind on it slowly to ease the ache, and he begins to groan.

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Little girl,” he murmurs, panting.

He tightens his grip on your waist to stop your grinding. Slowly, you open your eyes and see the pain on his face. It grounds you to your senses, making you realize that what you’re doing right now is completely wrong. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid.

“This is wrong,” you whisper, starting to cry.

You try to pull back from his embrace, reaching for his arm to let you go. His face shows hurt and the realization of what he’s just done. He releases you from his lap, and you sit on the blanket, concealing your face with your palms as you begin to sob.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” you murmur, your voice muffled.

“No, baby, It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

You feel his hand carefully touch your shoulder, and he begins to hold your trembling form in his embrace. You can’t look at him, feeling too guilty about what you’ve just done. Joel is your stepdad; this is deeply wrong. You ruined everything and betrayed your mother.

“Oh God, what have I done?” you whisper under your breath.

“I am so sorry, baby. This is not your fault, okay? Please listen to me,” Joel says, his voice filled with pain, as if he’s on the verge of crying.

You keep apologizing to him, even as he tells you to stop. Yet, he still embraces you gently, as if you’re something delicate and fragile.

After a few moments, you’re able to control your sobs and stop crying. You let him hold your hand as he walks you back home. Once he’s sure you’re okay, he returns to the lake to clean up and give you some time alone.

Lying on your bed, eyes dry from tears, you replay everything that just happened. You start to feel numb, unable to cry anymore, and your head aches. You try to focus on the good things that happened today, but the image of kissing Joel and the guilt cloud your mind, making it impossible to forget.

The sky grows darker outside the window, and the sound of children laughing and trick-or-treating from the street reaches your room. But you don’t hear any noise from downstairs or any sign of Joel coming back.

Where’s Joel? Is he okay?

Feeling lonely and cold, you feel guilty for wishing Joel could be here to hug you and keep you warm. Ponyo’s presence snuggling on your chest makes you feel a bit better; maybe you’re not as lonely after all.

Eventually, you fall asleep with your wings still on.

taglist @morganlolitta

[merbear25]

One piece characters x Small female reader???😇 like them comparing hand size or something??

Hello, thank you for sending in this request! Okay, so since you didn't specify any characters, I chose 3 I had some ideas for. I hope you like what I've written for you 💜💜

CW: fluff, fem!reader, headcanons, size difference

With a small fem!reader (Corazon, Zoro, Law)

Rosinante: He was such a large man already, meaning so many were already much smaller than him. When he first met you, he couldn't deny how sweet you looked—sweet and fragile. The closer you got to each other, the more he simply wanted to hold you. Even though his embrace completely engulfed you, you couldn’t get enough of his long arms wrapping around you. Of course, he enjoyed it too—feeling as if he was shielding you from the terrors this world had to offer. Most of all, he adored taking your small hands in his and bringing them up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on their tiny fingers. 

“You’re so darling, my dear.”

Zoro: Seeing as he’d taken on a protective role naturally, you were no exception to this. However, you were given a bit more attention than the others. Your small frame, your delicate features, and your tiny hands all gave off the impression of someone in need of being taken care of. Such gentle touches were accompanied with your late night talks when neither of you could sleep. He’d trace over your small fingers with his, admiring how dainty they were. Holding you closely, he reveled in how your form fit so perfectly in his arms. You knew that he’d never let anything cause you any harm; warmth blanketed you when you heard the sincerity in his voice.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Law: Despite his aloof demeanor, he cared very deeply for those closest to him. He was selfless when it came to aiding his friends, especially if they required a bit more attention. Seeing how small you were ignited the same devotion, yet he craved a bit more intimacy. Holding you close, caressing your gentle body, looking down at you: silent vows were made in such tender moments. Promises of always being there when you needed him, taking down anything or anyone who dared to pose any threat. You were perfect to him. As you sat there, enjoying the sounds of the sea, when he placed a firm kiss on your forehead.

“I promise to keep you safe.”