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dilf-docs · 2 days ago

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Hand To Heart (I'm Gonna Stay Faithful)

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: a pregnancy scare makes you realize just how deep you are in this.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pregnancy scare, fingering (WE GET IT U LIKE IT), bit of praise kink, humilliation kink, breeding kink (they're stupid and insane acc), dacryphilia, sex thru the looking glass (there's a mirror in reader's dorm), ANGST in capital, they're starting to catch the feels™ ur honor, hurt/comfort, plot thiccens, this people are clearly NOT in a good headspace btw idk we listen read and don't judge.

word count: 4,757 words

side note: everyone calling this joel nasty but thirsting after him too? was going to hold a trial over my citizens but yk... what the hell, sure! i too want nasty bfd!joel to ruin me: he can be my baby daddy who doesn't pay for child support of our 4 kids and we'd make way to bed for our 5th LET'S GO also spam time! but i also happen to write in wattpad, and got a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) it's on spanish tho, but if u speak the language and would like to tune in, u can read it here

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It's a regular Tuesday when his phone rings at ten in the morning.

"Dad"

Joel gets up from his desk in a brash move, immediately picking up his daughter's worried tone. Tommy bursts inside, telling him to calm down, but all Joel can hear is the anxious beat in his chest.

"What's it, babygirl? You okay?" his throat tightens. "Talk to me"

There's silence before she answers, as if she's unsure to continue.

"It's not me" he feels his muscles relaxing, but then Sarah drops the bomb. "It's y/n"

Joel's heart beats with a different type of worry.

"What's wrong with her?" voice firm but emotionless.

It's almost summer again, and he's still seeing you. In a way, you had carved a space for yourself in his cold heart, so naturally, fear settles in. He'd never admit this things out loud, though.

"I don't know, dad" his daughter starts to rush the words out, panic evident on her voice. "She has locked herself in the bathroom and won't stop crying. I-I didn't know who else to call"

"Don't worry" but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "M' comin'. S'anyone else in there?"

There's a pause on the line before she answers.

"No"

He thinks of you. He'd seen you cry before, of course, but it'd been over silly childish stuff, like getting sent to bed early or not getting what you wanted for Christmas.

He thinks of you. Images of your pretty face, etched in pain, make his stomach drop. It isn't fair: your face was one destined to be happy for eternity, your smile so contagious Joel would sometimes find himself surrendering to your juvenile joy, his crow feet a little more notorious since you entered his life and carved your space on it by force; a light in the dark.

He just couldn't bear to see a mirror of his dullness on your face. It wasn't right.

"Stay put. I'll be there"

He tries not to think about your eyes drained of life. He tries not to think he's the cause. And then, he hangs.

As soon as Joel enters your dorm, your perfume is up his nostrils, providing him with a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. It was comforting and familiar, words that used to be hollow now carrying a knowing feeling that stung right on his chest.

"Dad" Sarah calls out, going for a hug. Joel embraces his daughter tightly while caressing her hair. "I'm so glad that you're here. I didn't know what to do"

"Breath in, babygirl. S'alright" he looks at your door, closed. Broken sobs can be heard, and his wounded heart feels like a heavy burden on his chest.

"My class starts in ten" Sarah speaks against the fabric of his flannel, "but I just couldn't leave her like this"

His daughter has a good heart. At least one of them did, anyway.

"Go to your class" he's commanding before he can fully process what he said.

Sarah breaks the hug, looking at him with a look he can't quite place.

"What? But, dad-" she tries to protest, concerned for your wellbeing.

"I'll take care of it. Always do, haven't I?" he sees her hesitation, and afraid of where her doubts would take her, Joel adds a small joke in there. "Y'know those classes ain't free, kid. Go ahead"

"Okay" she gives up. "Just... tell me if anything happens, yes?"

"F'course. Trust me"

"I trust you"

He still remembers when Sarah's kindergarten teacher handed him that drawing: Joel was wearing a cape, and she said his little girl had told everyone in class his dad was a superhero because there was nothing he couldn't do. That same admiration and faith is there in her eyes, even as the small naive kid slips from his fingers and turns into the woman that stands before him. He's not the devil, but the worst father in the world, and that is pretty much the same to him.

When Sarah is out of your dorm, he's trapped inside the small room with your heavy crying on the other side of the door. He looks at the small place, thinking about all the times he's sneaked inside during the night, hiding like a criminal as you wait for him behind the door full of scrapped stickers, ready to capture his lips with an eagerness that gnaws his chest.

Now it's just him and your sobs, his terrified reflection displayed in the mirror in front of your bed, mockingly staring back.

What are you doing? it questions, and Joel, always ready to answer, has suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Forcing himself out of such a pitiful state, he approaches the door, knocking softly.

"Sarah" your hoarse voice speaks up, and just then, he realizes how much he loves hearing your voice, no matter how it sounds. "Don't you have classes to go to? Leave me, please. I promise I'm good, I-"

Joel hears your distress, so he interrupts what looks like the start of a nervous rambling wreck. Huh, doesn't he know you so well?

"Sarah's gone" a beat, "It's me, Joel"

As if you wouldn't recognize that deep voice even if you were deaf.

There's silence before the door flings open, surprising Joel, who takes a step back, barely noticeable to the rest, but obvious to you, who has spent hours admiring him and all his small movements, he who you could draw by memory and built in your head as real as he who was standing before you, his eyes circling with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place, yet make your heart race.

Joel takes in the sight of you, deciding it's unfair how good you look, despite your disheveled hair, run mascara and red-rimmed eyes: you are still the prettiest sight he's ever seen, and now he doesn't know what scares him the most.

"You're wearing my shirt" he says out loud his latest discovery. It's all he manages to say: not an are you okay? nor an what's wrong?

No, Joel just happens to be very stupid(ly in love).

"Sarah didn't see me" you hug the fabric that makes your frame look smaller, or maybe it's your tired composture that makes it seem that way, avoiding Joel from enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. "If that's what you wanted to know. Been inside there for hours, already was when she came by"

The fact that you rather explain and assure him of his supposed possible worries instead of sharing your own, makes his stomach tie on a knot. Were you too kind or perhaps selfless? Maybe just stupid(ly in love).

Joel grunts, and you're not sure if it's his way of dissmissing your comment (maybe he thinks you're lying), chastising you in a shallow manner or the fact that you're poorly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Maybe he thinks you're still a foolish careless child who can't comprehend the weight of whatever it is you're doing by being with your bestfriend's dad behind everyone's back.

"Tell me" he gets closer to you, fingers on your cheeks, but they don't dig the skin, instead, his roughness hiding a surprising tenderness to them. "What happened, y/n?"

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. Joel Miller, who seemed a man impossible to waver, now stood before you, wrapped in a gloom that left you at loss for words, something akin to hope planting it's seed on your heart.

"Tell me" he demands, yet his pupils move as unsteady as your heart. There's no power for command in his voice, only what you could allude to helplessness.

Was it because you were putting up walls like he did?

Was it because the consequences of being with you are starting to dawn upon him?

Whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What's wrong?" he's pushing for an answer softly, such a contrasting image to that of him in bed. "Please, talk to me"

Please.

The words slip past his trembling lips, defenses crumbling.

Joel Miller hasn't pleaded since Sarah's mother packed her bags and walked out of their shared home. He promised himself he would never be vulnerable again, never at the feet of a loved one, beggin to be seen.

To be heard. To not be hurt. To be loved.

But here you were, red eyes blown wide at a confession spoken through other words.

Please.

Your chest feels heavy, breath constricted.

"Joel..." you utter his name like a prayer. As something to believe in; something to hold.

He rushes to your side, strong arms caging around you as your labored cries fill the tiny room.

"S'alright" he whispers against your ear, burying his face on your shaking shoulder. "M' right'ere, doll"

Your hold turns more desperate, practically clinging as if your life depended on it.

"Take your time, y/n" your name so soft, you feel like crying more. "I ain't goin' anywhere"

"Promise me" you whimper, holding tightly.

"I won't go" he assures. There it is, the same unwavering strength you know. It's for you, he thinks.

"Joel" you call out again, tone terrified. "I think I'm pregnant"

It takes him at least a minute to speak. Even to breathe.

"...What?"

He feels your erratic pulse against his chest.

"Joel. Look at me"

He doesn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Just then he realizes he's backed down, embrace letting go of yours. Joel takes in your eyes, shimmering with new tears and fears.

"Joel?"

"I'm here" his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, and the reminder like it's for himself.

"I know" your small voice speaks up, "but, just- please, look at me"

Joel holds your gaze, and it's like your air supply as been cut.

You don't want this.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks cautiously, as if you were a small animal he's afraid to scare.

"No" you breath in. "I bought the test, but I couldn't take it... I was, for the very first time in my life, scared. But there's always a first, isn't it? That's when Sarah found me"

There's always a first. You weren't afraid when he pounced you next to his sleeping daughter, neither when you didn't stop coming and he let you in everytime, and absolutely not when he obscenely ate you out while Sarah was on the phone. No, you were brave―brave enough to stand defiant when his conflicting gaze pierced through you, daring you to be the first to leave this mess and forget about him. But you were brave because you stayed, despite it all.

That had to mean something, right?

"You said you wouldn't leave me" it comes out in a shaky breath; a threat. Your voice seethes with a quiet rage. "You promised, Joel"

Like the word promise was a dagger twisting on his insides, not a sacred oath.

So he forces himself to be that hero Sarah still thinks he is. After all, he promised her he's going to solve this, didn't he?

"I did" he runs a hand through his hair. "Got the test with you?" You slowly nod. "Take it, then. I'll wait here"

You don't move from your spot, chest still moving uneven under your labored breaths.

"When you come out, I'll promise I'll still be here"

He can't promise you more. The world? It's what you deserve but not what he can give; Joel can only give so much.

"Okay" your tone is clipped, and that's all you say before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The room feels smaller than it is, the small plastic stick feeling heavier in your fingers than it actually is. You hear the clock's tick, Joel's frantic pace and your own irrational beat. It feels like a bomb: ready to explode and destroy everything within it's range.

Time drags like a cigarette, walls closing over your shaking pale frame. Your phone has a timer going on, yet for some reason, it feels an end to your beginning. You hug your body, wishing it was Joel's arms doing so.

But you saw it: fear, hesitation. It was on his eyes, auburn cracking like wood under fire. He was weak, and so were you. All of this... it starts to loose it's meaning. What started as a summer fling now falls upon you like a second skin you can't quite wash off, and it's suffocating as much as the enclosed space where a stupid line could change the rest of your life forever.

Joel outside isn't doing much better. He's aware his walking probably set you on edge, so now he's sat at the small bed that dips under his weight. He takes one deep breath, two―then looses count.

How could he be so careless? For a brief moment, why did he let himself believe it could be?

For God's sake: you were his daughter's friend. He had seen you and Sarah play on his house, laughing on his porch, gossiping on her bedroom. Growing up.

He wanted you, a desire so consuming it sometimes kept him up at night, thoughts confusing with something else. Probably fear, probably acceptance.

Joel is aware you changed his life. You, with your wild spirit and obnoxious laugh. You whom he couldn't tear his gaze away when standing in the same room, a magnetic force making the world around you drawn to you and that dangerous allure you had that made it impossible to resist you. To forget you. To leave without you.

He feels dirty. A monster. A wolf with an insatiable hunger, sinking his canine teeth on your soft flesh. He'd drink your blood, to always keep a part of you with him; to be one. Like a lamb sent to the slaughter: but you wanted it. You had placed your head inside his jaw; trusting. As if knowing he could devour you, yet he'd never hurt you. Daring, almost.

Show me you can love me. Take a bite. Take me as yours. Mark me. Ruin me for anyone else. My blood, it belongs to you. This isn't a sacrifice―this is love.

When you exit the bathroom, hand holding the pregnancy test, it's all clear to him.

For a moment even, Joel forgets there's a world outside and sees a small baby: they have your smile, your eyes―and nothing of him, because you're the sun of his moon, the light of his darkness, and that baby is a mirror of you and your beauty. You and your warmth, devoid of his cold and far from where his filth can taint it. They have to look like you, because you are the most beautiful person in the world, and suddenly, the idea one more of you is possible, makes it feel like just you isn't enough.

"It's negative"

For the second time in the day, Joel is rendered speechless. His gaze is trained on the floor, lost in thought. Besides his lack of an answer, whatever he's thinking makes you nervous.

"Joel, are you okay?" you call out.

He swallows the lump on his throat, pose akward before he moves next to your bed.

"M' fine, baby. C'mere" he sits over it again, motioning with his hand the empty spot next to him. Joel's embrace is warm, like it shields you from the cold harsh truth.

"Are you upset?" you ask over the comfortable silence, the underlying tension stretching like a rubber band.

"No" his answer comes quick, "but I won't lie to ya', doll. Thought for a sec and ol' man like me could give a pretty girl like yourself a baby as beautiful as their mamma"

A treacherous pink dusts your cheeks. Had you lost all your common sense? Seconds ago, your life hung by a fragile thread, and now all your body can think is to go for the same risk again. Fuck it.

"Did you? I thought you were too busy freaking out"

Joel lets out a nervous laugh. "M' a busy man, doll. Learned how to do two things at once"

A fire settles in your stomach when his touch lingers over your soft flat belly, longing.

"Hmm, I see" your fingers move from his hold to his collarbone, as they play with the buttons he hasn't wore.

"Y/n" he warns. You stop for a moment, not because you're unsure, but because when you look up, his eyes don't shine with that glint of danger and hunger that gives you the thrills. Instead, they look at you with a fondness he doesn't seem to even realize―the one that gives you the hope of it all.

"I want this" you speak up, voice confident.

"I don't think that's a good idea, doll. What'ya need is-"

"You" your face gets close to his, cutting his words and breath. Joel's adam's apple bobs, your throbbing pussy going through a Pavlovian response, such action an indicator he's surrendered to you, mouth watering at just the thought. "You said you could do two things at the same time, right? The comfort me in the only way you know"

There's hesitation on his eyes, and while you think it's because he's still hung up on the idea this isn't what you need, Joel's mind is stuck in the fact you think he can just warm your bed but no your heart. It's stupid, indeed. It can't affect him that much. Ashamed, he cuts the space hanging between your lips and traps them in a heated kiss.

"Hmh, Joel" your voice barely audible as Joel's fingers grip on your hair, his sleazy tongue sliding it's way into your mouth until you can feel it in your teeth. "Please..."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Please, what?"

"Please" you whimper, feeling your back heat with droplets of sweat under Joel's shirt, the sticky feeling akin to that starting to pool in between your thighs. "Please, make me feel good"

Joel smiles adoringly, moving your body until your legs are up his shoulders. Sure, his knees covered by his dirty worn-out jeans are ruining your fresh laundry, and his joints may crack here and there, but you don't pay mind to this little things: all you care is how he's kissing your bare thighs, his salt and pepper stubble tickling skin that feels more sensitive than ever; burning almost.

"Gon' touch 'tis pretty pussy 'til you forget y'r name, doll" he breathes out. "Will ya' let me?"

You nod eagerly as he helps you get out of your panties, throwing them somewhere around the room. You smack his arm playfully at his rough manners, but then he's pressing his lips with wet ticklish kisses on your legs and laughter bubbles at the tingles it's causing.

"S-stop, Joel!" you beg, legs shaking. Your giggles are contagious, and soon the foreign feeling lifts the corners of his scowl into a smile, a concept becoming more familiar with time.

"I ain't stopping" his fingers then graze your clit, tauntingly. You whine, as Joel doesn't let up on your clit, his calloused digits coated in your arousal. "'Tis what you asked for, baby. So 'm gonna make you feel good. So good until you can't speak nothin' that ain't my name"

The threat feels like a delicious promise, so you tell him you'll behave.

"I wanna try somethin', doll. Wait" you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, and then he's moving your body until he's against the wall and you're on the border of the bed. With your eyes, you follow his line of view. "So needy, ain't ya'? Cockhungry slut. Jus' scared the shit out of me and now you want me inside?" he tsks. "Sick fella"

"Joel..." you breath out, desire pooling into your orbs.

"Wanna see you, doll" you see your reflection in the mirror as Joel lowers his head to whisper on your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. "Want you to see yourself, too. How you'll be beggin' for me"

His middle and ring finger dip between your folds as he continues the minstrations, fingers pumping in and out as they graze your moist cunt. They start to go in circles, and even if it's not exactly next to your bed, you can see the mirror begin to fog, whines condensed in the heavy air.

His shirt clings uncomfortably to your body, but you don't care. In a way, he feels even closer to you, as if he was an extension of yourself.

Joel's body radiates heat on it's own, making the room's temperature skyrocket.

You lean your head back onto the mattress, moaning.

"Need ya' to use that pretty mouth of y'rs, doll. Say it" his fingers linger on the dip of your hips, waiting for an answer with a smirk and daring manner. "Say what ya' want; that's if you can"

It takes you a while to speak up, the slippery sound of Joel's coated fingers the only sound to be heard on your dorm.

"I... I need" you whine through labored pants, "I need you, Joel"

I need you, Joel. It's in the heat of the moment, really, yet on that very instant, he makes a silent vow that hangs unspoken in the air.

"Good girl" he bites your earlobe, making a chill run down your spine.

His fingers fuck into you just how you like it: swirling to explore your inner tight walls.

"Fuck. Love how your pussy takes me, doll. 'S mine, isn't it? Say it, say who this pussy belongs to. Who's the only man allowed to have it"

You close your eyes, but the answer comes clear. "You, Joel. Just you"

You whine, feeling him go harder in a new-found confidence. Your nails dig on his biceps, but he doesn't flich, still busy burying his fingers inside your clit as his mouth continues spilling filthy shit you barely can comprehend, mind starting to go numb.

Normally, Joel would make you cum on his fingers, always making sure to lick it after, claiming it was bad manners to leave to waste. But today, the clock ticking in your wall, he knows he must hurry.

"Eager, eh?" you taunt back, seeing how quickly he's pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Your dripping cunt welcomes his cock, tip teasing your entrance.

"Don't" he seethes.

"Don't?" you laugh. "Don't what, laugh?"

His fingers grab your jaw tightly, forcing you to look behind you.

"Don't stop lookin', doll"

Joel slips the tip of his cock into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady you. He looks at you through the mirror, seeing your dazed eyes, waiting as you bite your lip.

"That's it, good girl" he praises, purring against your ear. You see his face go down and lick the side of your neck before sinking his teeth in it. "Gonna reward you for'at"

Your mouth falls agape when he fully pushes his cock inside of you, burying himself to the limit in the first thrust. You moan, stretch wet pussy trying to adjust to his girth. He groans, his hips moving back and forth with yours, to meet his thrusts.

"R-right there" you whimper, feeling eyes starting to water. It had been a long day, and with his cock buried deep inside you, you can't think of anything else: just him―like this, for the rest of your life; you don't need more. "Fuck, don't stop"

His thumb rubs across your cheekbone, capturing a tear that had slipped past your foggy mind in a brittle moment of vulnerability, brown eyes flickering with something else. It could be.

We could be.

"Fuck, you cryin' over this cock, doll? What'a fuckin' slut" he laughs incredulously, but there's a hidden fondness to it. "S' that how good 'm makin' you feel?"

You can only moan, his dick harder now, his infatuation with your fucked-out state evident in the way his movements become more hectic.

"Can't even speak? What'a dirty minx inside 'tis sexy little body"

"Mhm" you blabber, tears running hot down your cheeks, landing on the mattress in fat droplets, noticeable through the reflection even. Joel stares back at your puffy eyes, devotion pouring at your glossy gaze, coated in a faint red tint, more pronounced from your earlier cries. Fuck. Never did he think your lambent eyes and sniffle sounds could turn him on this much. Something about him being the cause of it has his head spinning.

"New rule" he growls, "you keep those pretty red eyes lookin' at me when you cum"

You whimper at his words, the powerful aura they carry pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. You feel your tight folds clenching around his cock, hands holding to his back while your nails dig in it. You feel yourself approaching your release, multiple tears escaping down your cheekbone. In an obscene gesture, it isn't his thumb but his tongue what removes the wet stream from your body, feeling the salty drops on his tastebuds.

You were already so worked up, it was a matter of seconds before you could cum at any moment. Your walls clench around his length, and before you can process, Joel pulls your body up, caging your tits until they're pressed against his soft chest. You face the white paint of your wall, and Joel can see your back in the mirror as he's still buried inside of you. You gasp at the change in position, all of the sudden, a painfull delicious sensation flooding your senses.

"You're gonna cum, aren't ya', doll?" Joel's asking, hot breath nestled in your neck.

"Hmh" you barely manage to blurt as he fucks into you harder, your arms clutching onto him. You were being so loud now that you were sure you'd get at least one noise complain, hoping it stays there; if they found out not only had you been fucking, but with a fourty year old man who happpened to be the father of your bestfriend, you'd probably get expelled. "So close..."

"You know?" he whispers, voice fragile over the sound of your pants and worked up breaths. "I was scared, ealier. M' sorry you had to see that" your body trembles, making you close your eyes. "But I need ya' to know, for'a moment, I did think about having a kid with you"

Your forehead drips with sweat, mixing with the sodium of your tears.

"Maybe in 'nother life, huh?"

Your heart feels like it's about to burst when he sloppily kisses you, as to prevent any words come out of your mouth―humilliating or full of regret, avoiding the heart ache of a rejection. Joel, for a moment, lets his heart wander off to territories he shouldn't, thinking of things he should leave to be. Joel digs his hole deeper, but he doesn't care: he just wants to be the best grave in your cementery.

"Maybe" you answer, but it sounds like a possibility, the promise of a foolish mind betraying the guarded hidden hope.

"Fuck, Joel" you bury your face against his soft pecs, your orgasm crashing over you. Your whine comes our rather loud, trying to drown the sound against his body. He doesn't stop holding you on his arms, firm; you'd probably fallen if he didn't.

"Wait for me, doll. 'M close"

"Please" you plead, kissing his jaw. "Need you. Want to feel you, Joel"

Not daddy, but his name. I want you. I need you. Want to feel you; for you to fill me. He groans, rhythm sloppy as he crashes his lips into yours. he should stop, especially after today's events, but God, his traitorous head is filled with images of you, belly round with his child, one carved to be the spitting image of you.

Do it.

You moan inside his mouth when you feel him finish inside of you, thick, your fingers running through his dark greying hair damp with sweat.

"M' right here" he says his words from earlier, and you feel yourself hugging him to keep his body next to yours even as he pulls out.

"I know" you hum, arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming"

"What of both?"

You let out a laugh.

"Jesus, Joel" but your tone is devoid of malice, adquiring that layer to it, just like his own. There's a shift in the air, and if you felt it before, now you know there's no point of return. "You sure are something else"

dts: @ann-gell; angél de mi corazón, tkm mucho, gracias por llegar a mi vida, ah.

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #bfd!joel miller #bfd!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction #to the devil i know series

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vrystalius · 2 days ago

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IN-HO // THE FRONTMAN AS YOUR YANDERE.

What will happen if the Frontman falls completely and chronically painful in love with you?

Pairing: In-ho x fem!reader (x Gi-hun)

Warnings: non-con themes, a lot of touching, stalker-ish behaviour, obsession, manipulation, gaslighting

Summary: Introduction, yandere profile (sfw), his jealousy of Gi-hun

Note: I kind of struggled with writing NSFW so I didn’t do it, I’ll write a personal piece for him someday that will live up to my usual quality!

Introduction.

The Frontman was watching the first of the games comfortably from his study, a glas of whiskey in his hand as he watched the first few players getting eliminated and their deaths creating a massive wave of panic on the large screen in front of him, absentmindedly swishing the alcohol in the glas around. His mask was put aside for comfort and a better view on the player his eyes were glued to the whole time: Gi-hun, player 456.

In-ho watched as the man shouted instructions desperately, trying to guide as much people as he can to safety. He huffed and was about to take a sip from the glas but his eyes got ripped back to the screen when he heard the lack of Gi-huns instructions. His eyes searched across the screen for the man until he found him, holding another player tightly to his side.

His interest in his drink quickly wavered as he put is aside, watching the man guide a shaking girl across the safety line. You were shaken up, close to tears, on your knees for Gi-hun. A frown grew on the Frontman’s face.

Gi-hun cheated the game, saved more players than In-ho expected and now has a pretty thing like you on your knees for him in thanks? It was all contributing to the man’s desire to join the games himself just to personally contribute to his suffering.

In-ho pushed himself out of his leather chair and activated his handheld radio.

“Prepare for code blue light.”

Yandere profile (SFW part).

- Physical touch -

After becoming completely and utterly in love with you, In-ho will begin to have his hand(s) on your body in some way or form, all day every day. At first it was pleasant and reassuring to have his hand rest on your shoulder, firmly holding you close to his body to keep you safe, or have his fingers brush some annoying strands of hair out of your face, but as you continued to allow these simple touches, In-ho got more and more daring.

His hand began to rest on your thigh almost casually, giving you a squeeze here and there, his eyes watching in fascination as the softness of your thighs almost spilled out of his grip, or his hand travelling lower and lower as it rested on your back, testing how much of his touch you tolerate and allow.

His touch is his way of testing your limits without completely scaring you off. In-ho wants to know if you are a timid and shy person, allowing his touch no matter how inappropriate it seemed, or are you fiery and defiant, wiggling out of his grasp or giving him a piece of your mind. In-ho likes it either way.

“Ah, sorry. I thought you’d feel better if I held you. My mistake.”

In-ho almost guilt-trips you into liking his touch, hanging his head and giving you an apologetic smile after you told him that his touch is making you a little uncomfortable. Maybe he is just as scared as you are, you thought.

Besides, in your oblivious mind you still believed that his poor, pregnant wife is in the hospital while he is trying to win the money for his future family. Perhaps the man that is old enough to be your father needs to be held as well, so how about you tolerate his touch a little while more.

His touches are always very secret, intimate almost. Barely anyone ever noticed his hands travelling to places they shouldn’t or rest on areas that might imply that you two are closer than just allies in a death game.

In-ho is calculated and careful, thinking about his every move hours in advance before acting on them, checking if anyone is watching or if you will speak out to him.

Sometimes, in the back of his love-hazed mind, In-ho wants Gi-hun to notice the way he is treating you, touching you and showcasing how intimate you two can be, how you are only his to touch. He wants the other man to know that you are off-limits despite you not even really consenting to all of this.

If someone else were to touch you, even just accidentally brush against you or push you out of the way of danger, In-ho makes sure that exact area gets “cleaned” by their touch, replaced by his.

Dae-ho grabs your wrist and drags you to safety during mingle? In-ho will make sure his grip on your wrist afterwards will leave blue marks. Jun-hee reassuringly grabs your shoulder while comforting you after an especially brutal game? In-ho’s grip on your bone will rival that of a predatory animal while keeping his soft smile on your face, acting oblivious to your wincing and squirming.

- Compulsive thoughts -

In-ho will replay every single interaction he had with you in his mind over and over like a broken record. Your gestures, subtle facial expression, movement and the way you hold yourself; he is overthinking about everything and anything. It makes him want to kick his legs a little and smile at himself while obsessing over your whole body and how perfect you always managed to look.

Covered in blood makes you look sexier, even if you cringe and cry at the feeling. Your sweat sticks to your shirt, exposing your curves in the best way possible for his staring eyes and the image of you being dwarfed by his jacket being draped over your shoulders makes his nether regions tingle in delight.

Scenarios about you and only you makes In-ho feel utter bliss, especially when you’re isolated from everyone and everything else, only for him to look at and admire.

His favourite scenario his depraved mind came up with so far is you being utterly devoted to him and him only. You depend fully on In-ho while he provides you with clothes he regards as appropriate and perfect for you, personally feeds you foods he believes are good for your health and happiness, bathes you in a large tub with all the most luxurious products that make your skin just a little softer.

He of course doesn’t want you to loose your personality with him pampering you 24/7 and controlling your every move, he still wants you to be your usual self. In-ho just wants you to love him as much as he loves you.

The need for utter control over your whole being is actually rooted in separation anxiety. In-ho cannot physically stand being away from you for more than one hour. He gets physically sick with stomach aches and migraines, thinking of all the possible ways you could either be getting hurt or having a pleasant time with someone else other than him.

In-ho’s face may look unchanging and casual as always, but his mind is spiralling when you are out of his sight. He curses himself for becoming a player just to monitor Gi-hun more closely and not being up in the control center where he has so much more control.

At least he can instruct the stationed guards to give you extra portions of food during meal time and to never harm you in any way possible. Sadly he cannot instruct them to shoot players like Thanos in their face for trying to charm you. Or at least In-ho thinks that that man’s weird raps and name-calling is an attempt to flatter you. It didn’t work anyway.

Right?

- Playing the perfect protector and saviour. -

You think of In-ho as your saviour, an older, more experiences and stronger man you can rely on and talk about all the things you are scared of and bad thoughts that plague that pretty mind of yours. You feel safe around him and he always has that reassuring smile of his that could make you cry. Not only does In-ho radiate a comfortable aura, he is also somewhat of an heaven sent angel. A touchy and demanding one but one nonetheless.

In-ho managed to save your life at least once in every game, both by physically grabbing you and dragging you out of harms way but also by his scarily accurate talents. Even if he struggled with the spinning top game, without his quick reaction to pull his and Gi-hun’s leg forward to kick the ball one last time, your whole team probably would’ve died.

During the mingle game, he accurately predicted how many players are going to be needed in the rooms every round with no fail.

⁎⁺˳ — A mini scenario starts here. — (In-ho will be refered as Young-il!)

“The next round will be two players in each room.” His low voice pulled you out of your thoughts while you tried to concentrate on not feeling dizzy on the spinning carousel. “How do you know?” Gi-hun, standing to your left, glanced at his friend in disbelief. You could’ve sworn that Young-il threw a glare at his direction for even talking. “It’s easy. There are 50 rooms. If two players go in each one, one hundred will still be left. Enough to go on with the games.” You felt some awkward tension as the two men beside you stared at each other and then moved their gazes to you. Nausea was building up in your stomach, and it was not thanks to the spinning platform or the sweet smell of death around you.

As the lady announced 2 Players through the speakers, Young-il grabbed your arm harshly without a second thought, practically forcefully dragging you alongside him. He harshly pulled you close against his torso as he pushed and shoved players aside. As another player attempted to get into a presumably empty room, Young-il kicked him in the shin forcefully and threw you into the safe room, closing the heavy door behind himself. As you two turned around, a third player stood inside the room.

“We were here before you guys—” he mumbled, clearly terrified to death. The other player attempted to break into the room and without another thought, you pushed your whole body against the metal door with all your might. Young-il death glared at the man in the room. “Out.” He grumbled before tackling him against the wall and swiftly moving behind him to cut the air circulation from his neck. Hearing the desperate choking from behind you, you whipped your head around to watch Young-il snap the neck of the man. Silence. A breath of relief escaped his lips as the shots fired behind the door.

You knew that he just saved your life, saved both of your lives if he hadn’t snapped his neck in time. Yet you couldn’t stop the feeling of utter horror and terror wash over your whole body. Your knees threatened to give in as you pressed your whole body against the heavy metal door, wanting to create more distance between you two, to get away from him and the corpse, to get away from him and to safety.

Young-il quickly dropped the dead man and slowly approached you. His stride was careful and his hand was slightly outstretched as if trying to pacify or soothe a wounded animal. You couldn’t move away or run as he cornered you, his arm gently wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you into his arms while shushing your whimpers. “I’m sorry, I had to. I had to.” His hand pressed your head by the back of your head and into his warm chest. You felt disgusted, angry, scared. You wanted out and away. When is the damn metal door going to open up again?!

“Shhh. It’s okay.” His voice was hoarser, his lips finding your forehead over and over, gently placing kisses all over your skin, thinking it would soothe you. “I had to or else we would’ve died. I did it for you, for us. I kept you safe.”

Slowly, you felt your body calm down at his almost hypnotic voice. Your whimpers slowly subsided but your grip didn’t. You held onto his warm body for dear life. “I-I’m sorry.” You didn’t even know what you apologised for. Maybe because you doubted him?

He nuzzled into your hair and hummed in approval, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. “It’s okay, I forgive you. You were scared and still are.” His hand slowly shifted from your shoulders to your waist, holding you against his body in an intimate hold.

“Always stick to me, I can keep you safe. Understood?”

⁎⁺˳ — The mini scenario ends here. —

His jealousy of Gi-hun and their rivalry.

In-ho is the type to be quietly but extremely jealous when it comes to anyone being in your vicinity, especially that parasite Gi-hun. His jealousy doesn’t manifest by sudden outbursts or very obvious displays, but rather calculated, subtle gestures and manners.

He’d likely watch from the shadows, picking on loose skin around his nail while overanalysing and interpreting your interactions with Gi-hun. If that parasite makes you even crack the smallest of smiles, his expression wouldn’t betray much jealousy, but his jaw would clench ever so slightly and the skin he previously picked is now bleeding and stinging terribly.

Firstly, In-ho would ensure Gi-hun knows exactly who is in charge, has the upper hand. He’d “accidentally” place a hand on your lower back as he approaches your conversation from behind or lean closer to you lips, acting like he can’t hear you properly just to get a little closer to your face and block your view of Gi-hun so your eyes could focus solely on him.

In private, In-ho would question you about your little small talk, subtly hinting at how he dislikes you talking to him. “You seem to enjoy his company. What about him interests you so much?” His tone was calm, comforting even if not for the deadly glare he gave you on accident.

His jealousy gnaws on him too much. In-ho tries to make Gi-hun take more risks in order to get him killed. Pushing him to provoke other players, advising him to do the stupid things during the death games… anything really to make him disappear without arising suspicion on his part.

In-ho’s jealousy is a slow burning fire that threatens to spread like a wildfire. He can barely contain it, with your help of course. Subconsciously you soothe his anger and clean his mind of all worries a man in love could have. You make him safer for other people.

Everyone but Gi-hun.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Aghsgshdnf I always feel so much better when writing tooth rotting fluff, this is totally not my comfort zone! In fact, it’s my war zone 😭 I hope you enjoyed it anyway and it was the way you guys hoped/imagined everything. Again I am pretty nervous about posting this, soo… I hope this is alright 😀

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Stay safe and take care of yourselves <3

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dnsknr · 3 days ago

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Adding unspooled thread below the cut for accessibility and also because fuck the bird site

"One of the cruelest things about Autistic/ADHD masking is that you learn to treat positive emotions as a warning sign that you're about to do something "wrong" and that it is therefore "safest for everyone" if you maintain a constant, low-key negative internal emotional state.

To feel joy, you have to be in yourself and in the moment. You're not worried about how you appear to others. You can't be both hypercritical of your existence while also reveling in it.

Joy means that the mechanism for monitoring/policing yourself for the comfort of others no longer takes priority. And when being yourself is so often a "wrong" way to be, being yourself without surveilling/"mitigating" yourself can feel perilous.

In fact, we've often been told it *is* perilous -- to others. We're told that we're "rude", "weird", "extra", "unthinking", "impulsive", "over-the-top", "self-absorbed", "oblivious", "annoying", etc.

We don't hear those messages when we're already over-analyzing our behaviours from the point of view of everyone else and adapting them accordingly.

We hear those messages when the connection with that normativity-focused inner critic drops and family, bosses, educators, colleagues, etc. step in to play that role. That might come from a meltdown or shut down, but it also happens in moments of true unselfconscious joy.

So joy feels dangerous. Joy becomes associated with alienating others, and eventually we come to feel alienated from joy itself.

I realized today that whenever I feel truly immersed in positive emotions (heck, even plain uncomplicated contentment), I am immediately fearful of who or what I must be irritating, neglecting, overstepping, steamrolling, etc.

I have received the message that my joy comes at a cost to everyone else. My happiness is something I do to others. So I have learned to always keep my emotional barometer just slightly inside of the depressed range.

I can have a little mirth, as a treat. 🫤

CW: suicide/self harm This is deadly. There is nothing surprising at all about the suicide and self-harm statistics of ADHD and Autistic folks once you understand that we are conditioned in this way. Training people to be depressed is deadly.

Sometimes I say that I am happiest when I am by myself, but I wonder if maybe I am just only actually *allowed to feel* happy -- like truly happy without that lingering soupçon of impending indecorum and fuckuppery -- when I am by myself.

(Well not completely by myself. Usually also with my cats. Because they're always game for a little indecorum and fuckuppery.)

Oof I'm sorry this is all resonating with folks.

This feeling exactly: [broken link] https://t.co/ZVanrQSxWJ

Another reason why I find myself trying to "manage my emotional expectations" is bc of the whiplash you get from being kneecapped when only moments before you were truly, neurodivergently happy. It's a hard fucking landing.

It's like the physical feeling of getting the wind knocked out of you but on an existential level. 0/10 would not recommend

This thread was brought to you by one of those "find words for your feelings" charts and the jarring realization that I view every emotion listed under "happy" with suspicion and try to limit how much of it I experience. 🫠"

Original post was made unrebloggable so I'm reposting the link. Click through for the whole thread.

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 2 days ago

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baby, can i please taste?

genre: smut, very little plot

warnings: periods, blood, mentions of scent, mentions of masturbation, oral (f.receiving dont yell at me!) , biting, unprotected sex, pet names

an: i literally texted bestie “is vampire chan period smut too much?” lmao yall might be grossed out. feel free to skip this one if that’s the case. but holy shit this got away from me and it’s.. so hot lol i screamed and giggled as i typed it. i’m nervous and embarrassed and giggly. 🙈 don’t look at me.

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

you cuddled closer, your head against his chest, arm lazily thrown around his middle. you were both cozy on the couch, your latest drama obsession on the tv. he laughed at something on the screen, his stomach muscles flexing under the material of his shirt. it sent a shot straight to your core. how can the smallest thing turn you on? feeling his abs flex under your arm? it was also cruel that you were on your period. your body likes to play this mean joke on you every month. your period will start, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, your libido will rise. craving to be touched, but unable to do so. you groaned.

“what’s the matter, love?” his arm around you squeezed you tighter. “another cramp?”

he knew you were on your period. of course he did. he’s a vampire. he knows when it’s coming even before you do. he can smell it. he knows days before and he’s always prepared with your favorite snacks and shows. you loved that about him. but do you tell him what’s really on your mind?

you were silent for a moment, weighing your options. you didn’t think he would ever judge you. so you decided that you felt comfortable telling him.

“no.. not a cramp.”

you slid your hand under the fabric of his shirt, your palm splayed across his hard stomach. he stiffened. “baby don’t tease.” he said. “not when i can’t do anything about it.”

you hummed. “that’s exactly how i’m feeling.” you confessed. “frustrating, isn’t it?”

he sat up straighter, slightly pushing you away so he could look down at your face. “uh.. i’m confused?”

for a vampire that’s hundreds of years old, sometimes it takes him a minute to catch on. “i’m horny.” you said, deadpan.

he looked flustered. “oh.” he looked away from you, shifting his weight to hide his growing erection.

“does that bother you?” you asked. “that i’m on my period and i still want you?”

his gaze snapped back to you. this conversation made him nervous but he wanted to be very clear that you could never bother him. “of course that doesn’t bother me.” he said. “you could never bother me.”

“i don’t know.” you said. “i just thought maybe it would.. gross you out?”

“gross me out?” he scoffed. “why? because you’re bleeding?” he dramatically pointed at himself. “vampire. blood is kinda my thing.”

you laughed. “yeah but this is.. different?”

“how so?” he asked. “blood is blood.”

“yeah but this is coming from my..” your sentence trailed off, you couldn’t finish it.

“oh i know where it’s coming from.” he reached down to readjust his now fully erect tent in his pants. “and why would that all of a sudden make it gross? if anything.. it makes it better.”

okay now you were confused. “better?”

he closed his eyes for a minute, trying to compose himself. “you think that i don’t smell you?” he said. “every month i have to go an entire week with your scent being so much stronger. and i know it’s nothing compared to what you have to deal with during that week. that’s not what i mean..” he was rambling. “i just.. it’s the smell of your blood but it’s.. mixed. combined with the sweet smell of your pussy..” he inhaled deeply. his hands balling into fists. “i’m on edge all week.”

your clit pulsed with need. begging to be touched. “does.. the smell get stronger when i’m aroused?” you let your fingers explore the ridges of his muscle, rubbing your thighs together. “because this happens every month.. i always get needy around this time.”

“yeah it gets stronger.” his jaw was clenched. his nostrils flared. his eyes wild. “i know when you’re feeling that way. i.. i’ve had to excuse myself to the bathroom before to relieve some.. tension.”

you bit your lip. the mental image of him, locked in the bathroom, secretly fucking his fist to the thought of you on your period.. you couldn’t lie. it was hot.

“why haven’t you ever done something about it?” you ask. “why hide in the bathroom?”

he looked down at you. “i never wanted to make you uncomfortable. i didn’t want you to think i was some sort of.. deviant or something.” he chuckled nervously.

“i don’t think that.” your hand traveled down, ghosting over his clothed cock. “and.. what if i said i didn’t want you to hide?”

“then i would fuck you. with your permission, i won’t hold back any more.”

you squeezed his erection in your hand. “you have my permission.” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

and it was like something in him.. snapped. with a growl he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

he sat you on the counter. standing between your legs, he cupped your face in his hands. he kissed you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth. you clawed at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off. you wanted to see his beautiful body. he broke the kiss and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. he leaned into the shower, turning the knob. the water started running, steam slowly filling the room. you looked at him.

“i figure you don’t want to have to wash the sheets tonight.” he said.

you nodded. “you’re so smart.”

he kissed you again, before pulling your shirt off and throwing it on the floor next to his. he kissed down your neck, down to your breast. he nibbled gently, careful not to cut you with his fangs, which were fully revealed now, poking at his plump lower lip. your hands tugged at his curls, your head thrown back.

he grabbed you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you off the counter and placing you on your feet. he delicately traced his fingers along your skin, kissing you once more. he always knew how to make you feel beautiful. how to make you feel like you were precious to him. and that’s exactly what you were.. precious.

you tugged at the elastic of his boxers, wanting to feel the soft skin of his cock in your hand. he helped you pull them down, kicking them to the side. he stood before you, fully naked, and devastatingly handsome. he was all muscle, especially right now, his vampire body was tight and on edge. you wrapped your hand around him, pumping him slowly. he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder. he let you stroke him for a moment, enjoying the way your small hand felt against him. but he was growing impatient.

he dropped to his knees, hooking his fingers in your panties. he looked up at you, keeping eye contact as he pulled them down your legs. you were slightly embarrassed by the sight of your pad, attached to your underwear, but he didn’t seem to care. he paid it no mind, setting your panties to the side. his big hands gripped at your thighs, his mouth watering. your scent was so strong, his face only inches from your center, with no more obstacles in his way. he could taste his venom on his tongue.

he gazed at your pussy, the look on his face almost.. hypnotized? he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your mound, fighting the urge to bite. “baby..” his voice was rough and deep, gravely with desire. “fuck.. angel.. i want you so bad.” his hands traveled around to squeeze your bare ass. “we better get in the shower before i make a mess on the rug.”

he stood up, kissing you, his erection poking at your skin. he held the curtain open for you, offering you his hand to hold as you stepped in. “careful baby.” he said. “and don’t stand in the water yet. i don’t want anything washed away.”

your cheeks flushed at his admission. he stepped in after you, opting to stand in the water himself, the droplets cascading down the ridges of his chest and tummy. he wasted no time in dropping to his knees again. he kissed along your thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “can i?” he asked. he kissed his way over to your hip and then back across to the other side. “baby can i please taste? please?”

you nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. his pupils were so dilated that his eyes almost looked black. his dark eyes gazed upon your bare pussy again, his hands coming up to spread your lips apart. he inhaled, closing his eyes to fully appreciate your sweet scent. his cock jumped, slapping softly against his tummy, begging to be touched.

his fingers spreading your lips apart, he leaned forward and let his tongue slowly lave against your clit. you whimpered at the contact, finally getting some relief. he let his tongue dip into your hole and his chest rumbled with a low growl. he lifted one of your legs and draped it over his shoulder, giving him better access. his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, helping to hold you up. he lost himself in the taste of you, he had never had anything so delectable in his entire existence.

his fingers dug into your soft skin, his tongue pressing deeper inside you, licking at your walls. the sounds coming from his throat were almost animalistic. he groaned and grunted as he savored you. one of your hands tangled in his curls, pushing him further into you, his nose brushing your clit. “fuck..” you exhaled. you rocked your hips, rolling them against his face, riding his tongue. with each pass of your hips, your clit rubbed back and forth against his nose.

normally, in this situation, he would slide a finger or two into you. but he refused to pull his tongue out to make room for his fingers. and you didn’t mind, you were lost in the pleasure, loving the way he made you feel. “channie..” you breathed. “fuck.. i’m gonna cum..”

his nails dug into your flesh, sure to leave little crescent shaped bruises. he moaned against you, the vibrations spreading through your body. he drank from you, while never having to use his fangs. you ground yourself harder against his face, practically humping his nose. his cock was painfully hard. he wrapped his hand around himself, slowly stroking as he continued to taste you. your body began to shake above him. he slurped against your pussy, not ever wanting this to end.

with one final moan, you came apart. your thrusting hips stilled as your body convulsed. a new taste landed on his tongue, and he lapped it up, not wanting to waste a drop. he continued to eat you, lost in the taste, refusing to let go. his fantasy had finally come true, he just wanted to enjoy it a little longer.

instead of pulling on his curls, you started to push. “channie.. to much..” you complained, starting to feel overstimulated. with one final pass of his tongue along your walls, he forced himself to stop. he leaned back, resting on his heels. his lips and chin were red with your blood, his eyes closed, a stupid blissful smile on his face.

“that was amazing..” he panted. his eyes finally opened to look at you. you giggled at him.

“it was.” you agreed. “did you enjoy yourself?”

“fuck.” he scoffed. “i wish i could do that for the rest of eternity.” he leaned back into the stream of water, rinsing his face clean. you admired the way the water clung to his lips, how his hair stuck to his forehead.

he slowly stood up, his hands finding your hips, his lips finding your lips. his cock poking between your legs. he was still so hard. “i almost came in my hand.” he confessed. “but i want to be inside you when i cum.”

he kisses along your neck, over your pulse point. “is that okay, baby?” he breathed against your skin. “can i cum inside you?”

you head was cloudy. dizzy with desire. “y-yes.”

“hold on to me, yeah?” he put your hands around his neck. you locked your fingers together, gripping him tightly.

he gripped you by your thighs and lifted you off the ground, you legs wrapped around him, his tip prodding your entrance. “i know you tired baby..” he cooed into your ear. “i’ll be quick.”

he gently slid inside of you, the stretch making you whimper. he gave you a brief moment to adjust to him before he started slamming into you. he bounced you on his cock, used you like a toy for his own release. “you’re so perfect baby.” he praised. “letting me taste you and use you during this time.” he grunted. “gonna let me pump you full.”

you were practically limp in his arms, your body exhausted. but still your pussy fluttered around him, loving the way he felt inside of you. “mmm” he moaned. “there she is. there’s my girl pulsing around me. you gonna cum too baby?” he kissed along your shoulder, along you neck, licking at your skin, looking for the perfect spot, warning you.

you moaned, unable to form any words, but still your high approaching. “there you go baby. i’m not going to last much longer. you feel so good.” he rambled. “cum with me baby. come on.”

and after a few more thrusts, and a carefully placed bite, you did. the feeling of his fangs sliding into the delicate skin of your neck, caused you to clamp down around him, your nails digging into his neck as you held on, your body shaking. he stilled inside you, his cock twitching, releasing all he had. he only took a couple mouthfuls from your before he released, licking across the wound to help seal it.

he held you for a moment, both of you panting. he carefully slid out of you, and placed you down on shaky legs. “can you stand?” he asked, your feet on the floor but your weight still being held by him.

you nodded. “i think so..” he cautiously let you go. you held onto his arms, but were successfully able to hold yourself up. he held your hands, slowly stepping backwards, pulling you into the stream of water. he turned the knob, making it warmer. he grabbed the soap, squeezing some into his palm and gently cleaning you up. he cleaned himself and then shut the water off. he reached out around the curtain and grabbed a large towel, wrapping it around your body.

“are you okay, honey?” he asked, tucking your wet hair behind your ear.

you looked up at him, smiling. “mhm.” you said, before leaning into him. he wrapped his arms around you, your face against his chest. “are you okay?” you asked him.

“i loved every second of it, baby.” he said, kissing the top of your head. “as long as you don’t think differently of me.”

you looked up at him. “of course i don’t.” you brought your hand to his cheek. “i love you.”

“and i love you.” he smiled, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. “now let’s dry off and go finish our show. i have to know what happens.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

#stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x you #stray kids bang chan #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #vampire chan #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #hyunjins orange slice too

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sqh3e · 2 days ago

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random habits BONEDO picked up because of you

⊹ ࣪ ˖ habits bonedo picked up because of you ! : 𑁤

bnd ot6 | bf!bnd x reader ♡ scenarios !

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⋆｡˚୨ jaehyun : grabbing your hands

he noticed that randomly you’d reach over for his hand if you were sitting down, standing next to each other. he gradually picked up on this and whenever you didn’t take the lead and grab his hand he’d grab yours, but he’d interlock your fingers with his. at first you thought he was doing it just cause but you seen he did this will others so you knew he got it from you.

⋆｡˚୨ sungho : squeezing your cheeks

this was something you usually did when you both were laying in the bed after a long a day, he’d be so tired but that’s when you thought he looked the cutest, tired and trying to hold a conversation with you, so you’d squeeze his cheeks. and eventually he started doing it to you not even when you’re tired but just cause. when you noticed it you told him about it and he claims you got it from him.

⋆｡˚୨ riwoo : clapping when he laughs

you’d always clap your hands when you laughed, which he thought was cute. you did it so much you didn’t even realize you did it so he started teasing you for it until he actually started clapping when he laughs and you started teasing him for it just as he did you. “i’m only doing it to tease you.” he’d say but you knew that wasn’t true cause you’ve caught him multiple times doing it.

⋆｡˚୨ taesan : saying “shit”

“shit” is your go to word when you do anything and something bad happens like if you’re eating and you drop food on your shirt you’d say “shit” it fits every scenario, and every time you say it taesan laughs but he started to notice that he does it as well, like when he was walking and tripped over his own foot he said it. when you heard him you burst out laughing and so did he, “you’re really rubbing off on me” he’d say.

⋆｡˚୨ leehan : squinting when you’re confused

you do this ALOT especially when leehan sometimes talk to you and just yaps on and on you never noticed you did it until he said something about it and whenever you did it you know cause he’d smile at you while you did it, one day you were talking and he did it and you pointed it out to him. and he blamed you since you two are always hanging out.

⋆｡˚୨ woonhak : scrunching your nose

whenever you eat something spicy you’d scrunch your nose or whenever you just did anything in general you sometimes did it out of nowhere but mostly while eating spicy things though, you woonhak took notice of this and always called you cute when you did it, you both were having a conversation one day about whatever and he scrunched his nose mid conversation, so you called him cute and he hadn’t even noticed he done it.

authors notes: HEY! i really like these lol (also two post in one day??) i really hope you all are enjoying your day or night! senior year kicking my ass rn pls blows cigarette smoke. but in all seriousness i appreciate all the support everyone has been showing me! i know i’m not the best writing out there but the fact you took time to read what i write means so much i truly appreciate it 🩷

bonedo masterlist | bnd taglist: @mimimimiaa (open)

#sqh3e #boynextdoor #boynextdoor jaehyun #boynextdoor sungho #boynextdoor riwoo #boynextdoor taesan #boynextdoor leehan #boynextdoor woonhak #boynextdoor x y/n #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor fluff #bnd #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #bonedo

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spencerreids-wifey · 2 days ago

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𝐈 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐒. 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

Category: Angst, fluff

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning: infertility issues

Summary: After a whole year of trying for a baby and being left with nothing, reader goes to the hospital for answers only to get bad news, Spencer later than comforts her after she blames herself.

You were seated on the couch in the living room of you and Spencer's apartment. The tv was on, but you weren't listening to a word that was being said. You just quietly sat, replaying the words that the doctor had said to you earlier.

"So I've run some tests, multiple actually." Your doctor said as she came into the room, closing the door behind her. She looked down at the papers in her hand.

With hope, you looked at her. "And?"

She cleared her throat and hesitated for a bit before she spoke. "I'm sorry, but results show that you have a primary ovarian insufficiency."

You just looked at her with confusion, "I- I don't know what that means, what does that mean?"

"It means that, unfortunately, your ovaries aren't functioning the way they should, and your body isn't producing enough eggs for conception."

Your lips parted, and you let out a breath. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Primary ovarian insufficiency?" She repeated quietly, more to herself than to the doctor.

"I want to let you know that this is common and can happen for numerous reasons." The doctor looked at you, giving you a pity look. "Generic factors, autoimmune conditions, or sometimes there isn't a a clear cause."

Listening to her talk, you felt the inside of you shatter, but you didn't want to break down in front of her. "Thank you." You mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Reid." The doctor frowned and added. "Do know that there are plenty of ways to-"

You shook your head. "Don't..please."

The drive home was a blur, the world outside your car window smearing together in muted shades of gray.

You barely remembered unlocking the door to your shared apartment, your mind consumed with one thought: How am I supposed to tell Spencer?

Having kids was something you and Spencer had talked about before you even got married.

You saw how his eyes lit up at the thought of having kids of his own, the way he'd interact with Henry and Michael, and it warmed your heart, and you wanted nothing more than to bless him with the opportunity to be a Dad.

But now that was just a mere dream, a dream that would never happen, because of you.

That's when you heard Spencer's key from outside, and he opened the door, stepping inside and setting his bag off and closing the door behind him.

Immediately, he went over to you, leaned down, and gave you a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, sweetie."

You didn't answer, and that's when Spencer got a good look at the expression that was held on your face, and he knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned.

You looked up at, your heart pounding and tears welled up, threatening to spill, and Spencer was in front of you in an instant, his hands gently resting on your arms.

"Sweetheart?" He prompted softly.

"I went to the doctors..." You mumbled.

Spencer's expression softened, before he left to go on his case you had mentioned how you wanted to go to the doctors and get some tests ran, he knew it bothered you that for a whole year the two of you had been trying for a baby, only to be disappointed every time.

"And?" He sat down next to you on the sofa.

That's when tears rolled down her face. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Spence-"

Spencer frowned and his hand came up to your face and he calmly spoke. "Hey..hey...talk to me."

"I'm sorry, I'll never be able to give you kids."

The silence that followed felt deafening. You kept your eyes on the floor, bracing yourself for his reaction, for disappointment, for anything.

Then, without hesitation, he closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair and he sighed. “I know how much this meant to you.”

You broke then, burying your face in his chest as sobs wracked your body. “I—I’m so sorry, Spence. I can’t give you kids. I know how much you wanted a family. I feel like I’ve failed you.”

His grip on you tightened, and he gently pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, look at me,” he urged, his voice steady and reassuring.

When you finally met his gaze, you saw nothing but love in his warm hazel eyes.

“You haven’t failed me,” he said firmly to make sure you understood the words. “Not now, not ever. I don’t need anything else to be happy, sweetheart. You make me happy. All I need is you."

"But I know you’ve always wanted to be a dad,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“And I’ve always wanted you more,” he countered without missing a beat. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from the team, it’s that family isn’t always about blood. We can figure this out together—whether that means adoption or something else—or we can just be us. You’re everything I’ve ever needed, and that’s never going to change."

You looked up into his eyes and saw that he meant every word he was saying.

He wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. "You have given me so much. First off, all you let a loser like me take you out..."

You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his words.

"And then you proceeded to give me the chance to call you my wife..." Spencer took your hand and smiled. "You've given me so much, and I appreciate you, and this....information doesn't change the way I see you or feel about you."

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, a faint smile breaking through your tears.

“Of course, you do,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I’m going to remind you of that every day if I have to.”

In that moment, you felt the weight on your shoulders begin to lift. You weren’t sure what the future held, but as long as you had Spencer by your side, you knew you’d be okay.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr reid #cm #mgg #angst #angsty fluff #fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x self insert

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enyaliuswrites · 2 days ago

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➽ Things Sylus would do as a lover

Sylus x afab!reader tags: fluff, sfw, mentions of periods, reader doesn’t have to be mc wc: 443 A/N: I love this man so much, he’s such a green flag <3 First post!! Please submit anything you'd want me to write I'd love to try more!

Sylus is the type of lover to open the door for you, whether it be his car door when he drives you to wherever you want, or a restaurant door, mall door, shop door, all doors. Honestly, it’s quite cute when he uses his evol to almost push you back just so he can open the door for you. Afterwards he definitely plays it cool like nothing ever happened. When you ask him about why he pushed you back, he’ll give a half-assed answer like, “It seems the wind is strong today.”

When you’re on your period Sylus is so gentle and so understanding, but also so knowledgeable that it makes you question how?? You asked him one time and he just said, “I know everything, sweetie.”

Sylus somehow has everything prepared in the base, pads, tampons, menstrual cups, chocolate (along with a lot of other desserts that he had a professional baker make), soft self-heating blankets, a hot water bottle, a heap of crow plushies. He also gives the best tummy rubs, his hands are big but also warm so you sometimes use him instead of the blanket or hot water bottle.

Even though he has a chef, he prefers to cook for you and even when you offer to help he refuses, only letting you ‘help’ in the simple things, like picking out a salad dressing, or picking the sauce for barbeque, adding the finishing touches on a dish (placing a basil on the pasta he made).

Sylus is the type of lover that knows all of the ‘rules’ and sometimes plays around with them, for instance he abides the sidewalk rule and walks at your pace if you’re walking a little bit slower. He’ll gently drape his jacket (or suit) on your shoulders when you’re cold and hold your hand tightly when navigating through crowds or just going around anywhere, albeit the N109 zone or in Linkon. He often jokes around, he’ll always have something to say when he does these things. When you say you’ll be fine and you won’t need to bring a jacket he’ll say something along the lines of “And then you’ll come and ask for mine like before. I’m not a philanthropist, kitten.” as he shakes his head. In the end he gave you his jacket.

Sylus is the type of lover that’ll agree to letting you do all sorts of skincare on him. He walks in one night and sees a face mask on your face and he’s immediately roped in to be your little test subject as you try out different things on him, shaving his stubble, applying a face mask and moisturizer.

Art creds: Nightplumes - Love and Deepspace Dividers by @cafekitsune

#l&ds #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x you #love and deepspace x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus x reader #sylus fluff

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mapis-putellas · 10 hours ago

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𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

It started as any other day in Barcelona. The sun was shining, the air warm but pleasant, and Alexia was finishing up her morning routine, methodical as always. You watched from the sofa, scrolling absently through your phone while she moved around the flat, gathering her essentials for a planned lunch outing. Her cupra keys hung on the hook by the door, glinting temptingly in the light. That’s when the idea struck.

For months, you’d been relegated to the passenger seat of her beloved car, and while you adored her insistence on taking care of you, you sometimes longed to be in control. You had your licence; you were a good driver. Yet every time you reached for those keys, she would scoop them away, pulling you into one of those deceptively gentle hugs that left no room for argument. You’d tried reasoning, teasing, even sulking, but nothing swayed her. Today, though, you decided it would be different.

You slipped off the sofa as quietly as possible, grabbing the keys and slipping out of the flat. It was a little thrill to descend the stairs and approach her car, knowing she was still inside, oblivious. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you adjusted it to your height, smiling mischievously as you waited for her.

When Alexia finally appeared, her bag slung over one shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, she froze mid-step. Her eyes locked onto you through the windscreen, her brows furrowing in confusion before the realisation hit. She pointed at you and shook her head, already muttering to herself in Spanish as she strode towards the car.

You rolled the window down just as she reached the driver’s side door. “What are you doing?” she asked, her accent thick but her tone unmistakably firm.

“I’m driving,” you said simply, flashing her your most innocent smile.

“No,” she said immediately, gesturing for you to get out. “Move.”

You shook your head, hands gripping the wheel as if your life depended on it. “Not today, baby. You always drive. It’s my turn.”

She sighed, exasperated, her hands going to her hips. “You can’t drive my car. You know this.”

“I can, and I will,” you replied, grinning up at her. “Come on, Alexia, just let me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “No. Get out.”

You leaned back in the seat, feigning relaxation. “Not happening.”

She tugged at the handle, which of course you had locked, then let out another huff of frustration. “Unlock the door, mi vida,” she demanded, but her voice had softened slightly, as if trying a gentler approach might work.

“Nope. Passenger side’s open, though,” you quipped, gesturing to the other door with a cheeky grin.

She threw her hands up in frustration, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t quite catch. Then she marched around to the passenger side, yanking that door open. For a moment, you thought she’d given in, but no, she leaned over, reaching for the keys still in the ignition. You quickly pulled them out and held them up.

“Nice try,” you said, grinning.

Her glare could’ve melted steel. “You are impossible,” she said, straightening up and storming back to your side of the car.

“Am I, though?” you teased, twirling the keys in your hand.

“Yes,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “Get out.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the keys back into the ignition and revving the engine lightly. The sound made her stop in her tracks, her eyes widening slightly.

“You wouldn’t,” she said, her voice quieter now, a hint of disbelief creeping in.

You raised an eyebrow, foot hovering over the pedal. “Try me.”

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought she might genuinely lose it. But then she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose before muttering something else in Spanish. Finally, she walked back around to the passenger side and got in, slamming the door behind her.

“Happy?” she said, her tone sharp.

“Ecstatic,” you replied, trying -and failing- to hide your grin.

The car pulled out smoothly, and you couldn’t help but glance over at her. She sat stiffly, arms crossed and her lips pressed into a thin line. You reached over, placing your hand on her thigh the way she always did with you.

“Relax, baby,” you said, giving her leg a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got this.”

She didn’t reply, her gaze fixed firmly out the window.

“Oh, come on,” you teased. “You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Dramatic?” she repeated, finally turning to look at you. “This is my car.”

“And you’ll get it back in one piece,” you assured her. “Probably.”

Her eyes widened again, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Kidding! I’m kidding!”

“Not funny,” she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” you said, unable to resist.

She shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Stop talking.”

“Not a chance,” you said cheerfully. “I have to enjoy this moment while I can. It’s not every day I get to call you the passenger princess.”

Her scoff was immediate. “I am not-”

“Oh, but you are,” you interrupted, grinning at her. “Sitting there, all pretty and pouty. It suits you.”

She muttered something in Spanish, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment.

By the time you reached the restaurant, she looked like she was ready to explode -or possibly murder you. You parked the car with a flourish, turning to her with a smug smile.

“See? No scratches, no dents. I’m a great driver,” you said.

She didn’t reply, simply shaking her head as she got out of the car. But as you walked around to meet her, she caught your wrist, pulling you close.

“Never again,” she said firmly, her voice low.

“We’ll see,” you replied, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

Her lips twitched, but she quickly schooled her expression into something neutral as she dragged you into the restaurant.

The moment you slipped Alexia’s car keys out of her back pocket, you knew you were in trouble. The sharp intake of breath you heard from her told you everything you needed to know before you even turned to look at her. She was standing still, her hands on her hips, her jaw set. Her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of annoyance and incredulity, and for a moment, you thought she might actually explode.

You froze for half a second, your fingers curling tightly around the keys as you gauged your options. Her voice, low and firm, broke the tense silence between you.

“Dámelos,” she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Your eyes widened, but instead of obeying, you did the exact opposite. Without a word, you bolted across the nearly empty car park, the keys clutched tightly in your hand.

“¡Dios mío!” Alexia muttered under her breath before taking off after you.

You could hear her footsteps behind you, heavy and determined, but you knew you had the advantage. She may have been taller, her stride longer, but you were faster, and you had no intention of giving up your prize so easily.

“Stop running!” she called, her voice sharp as she chased you around the rows of parked cars.

“Then stop trying to take the keys!” you shouted back, throwing a grin over your shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed, and she quickened her pace, but you zigzagged between cars, keeping just out of her reach. You could hear her muttering in Spanish, words you didn’t quite catch but that you knew were probably not the most flattering.

“Esto no es gracioso!” she called, her tone somewhere between frustration and disbelief. “Give me the keys!”

“Not a chance, baby!” you teased.

She huffed audibly, her strides becoming more purposeful. “You’re going to make me really angry,” she warned, but her empty threats only spurred you on.

You darted around a lamppost, narrowly avoiding her outstretched hand as she tried to grab you. “You’re going to have to work harder than that!” you taunted, feeling a surge of adrenaline as you stayed just ahead of her.

“Eres imposible!” she shot back, her tone full of exasperation.

Despite her irritation, there was something playful in her eyes that told you she wasn’t entirely serious. Still, her determination was undeniable, and you could feel her frustration mounting as the chase continued.

Finally, after a few more laps around the car park, you noticed her pace slowing slightly. She stopped in the middle of an empty lane, hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Her shoulders rose and fell heavily, and when she looked up at you, there was something different in her expression.

“Amor,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of weariness.

You slowed to a stop, guilt creeping in as you saw the faint trace of hurt in her eyes. You didn’t want to actually upset her. Clutching the keys tightly in your hand, you hesitated for a moment before walking towards her.

“Alexia,” you started, your voice gentle. “I didn’t mean to-”

Before you could finish your sentence, she straightened up and lunged forward, grabbing the keys from your hand in one swift motion.

Your jaw dropped as you realised what had just happened. “Wait, what?!”

She stepped back, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as she held up the keys like a trophy. “Gotcha,” she said smugly.

It hit you like a tonne of bricks. She’d played you. She’d used your soft spot for her to her advantage, knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist comforting her.

“You tricked me!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and betrayal.

Her grin widened as she twirled the keys around her finger. “You deserved it,” she replied.

“How dare you!” you pouted, crossing your arms and sinking down onto the curb in dramatic fashion.

She let out a soft laugh, her steps slow and deliberate as she walked over to where you were sitting. “Vamos,” she said, nodding towards the car.

“No,” you replied stubbornly, refusing to look at her.

“Amor,” she tried again, crouching slightly to meet your gaze.

You shook your head, keeping your arms firmly crossed. “Not talking to you.”

Her expression softened slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she reached out to brush her fingers against your knee. “Don’t be like this,” she said softly.

You shrugged her hand off, turning your face away from her. “You played me, Alexia. That’s low.”

She let out a quiet sigh, standing up straight and crossing her own arms as she looked down at you. “Okay,” she said simply, her tone almost too casual.

Before you could process what she meant, she rounded your body, bent down, her strong arms wrapping around you as she hoisted you up off the curb like you weighed nothing.

“Alexia!” you squealed, your hands instinctively gripping her shoulders as she adjusted her hold on you, bouncing you up slightly so arms were beneath your ass.

“Now you come,” she said firmly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as she started walking towards the car with you still in her arms.

You squirmed in her grasp, but her hold was unyielding. “Put me down!”

“No,” she replied simply, her tone light but final.

You huffed, your pout returning as you rested your chin on her shoulder. “I hate you,” you muttered, though the lack of conviction in your voice made it clear you didn’t mean it.

“No, you don’t,” she said confidently, her lips brushing against your shoulder as she spoke.

When she finally reached the car, she set you down gently, her hands lingering on your waist for a moment as she looked at you. “You’re very stubborn,” she said, her tone soft but teasing.

You rolled your eyes, still pouting as you leaned back against the car. “Takes one to know one.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile as she opened the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in. “Come on, mi vida.”

You hesitated for a moment, still tempted to cling to your sulk, but the warmth in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile made it impossible to stay mad at her.

“Fine,” you muttered, sliding into the seat.

She leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.

As she started the car, you couldn’t help but glance over at her, a small smile tugging at your own lips despite yourself.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you said quietly, echoing her earlier words.

She glanced at you, her smile softening. “I know,” she replied, her voice filled with affection.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

#alexia putellas x reader #groucy alexia putellas #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine

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chrattho1 · 2 days ago

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bsf!chris x reader!!

“what took you so long?”

summary: chris is in love with you more or less,he never made a move on you though,always scared that might ruin your friendship. but now that you’re taken,he wants you even more. in your grey set that he loves so much,you come around for a movie night and he is painfully hard the moment he sees you walk in.

warnings: male masturbation,pet names(?) idk what else to put in,not proofread

a/n: this is a blurb for my bsf! chris au,find more of it here

“we’re not watching cars for the third movie night in a row chris!” you snatch the remote from his hands and settle down next to him on the bed.

too close for his liking. dont get him wrong being close to you only makes him happy,the way you smell,the way your hair smells and sometimes tickles his face when you move. but right now he is focused on covering his lower body with the covers,to say that he is bricked is an understatement.

“do whatever man,and can you move i feel nauseated by your perfume” he puts his head on the headboard,trying to act like he is not in excruciating pain

“woah there,whats got you all riled up?” you ask him,moving your face towards him

“nothing im just snacky,mind getting me some snacks from downstairs?” he asks with a sincere smile.

you nod thinking nothing suspicious of it,he does get hangry alot so this was nothing new,you walk out the room telling him to pick a movie before you come back

chris watches you walk out,your ass swaying in perfect sync,in that soft material that sticks to you. his thoughts not helping him one bit. he quickly puts a hand under the covers,reaching his hand down to adjust himself just a little bit before come in again. that slight friction from his hands making him bite his lips.

“okay..i got you skittles and pepsi,thank you for restocking redbull before i come,you know me so well” the comment earning you a wink from chris to which you smile,his cheeky behaviour is not-not normal to you,thats how he has always been.

you both settle on watching “how to lose a guy in 10 days” , chris lost the rock paper scissors game.

not even halfway through the movie,you notice chris moving every few seconds “motherfucker could stay still for a moment im trying watch the movie!” you scream at him clearly not having a single clue about the agony he is in right now.

“my allergies are making me itchy” chris says lowly knowing you’re too focused on the movie currently.

“im going to go to the bathroom” he finally decides he’s got to do something about it or else he might come in his pants just by looking at you for so long (he has been staring this entire time,ofcourse), you nod in response watching him go up to the bathroom in his room.

“turn the volume up will you? i wanna hear whats happening in the movie” he says standing by the doorframe of the bathroom,his oversized hoodie kinda covering the tent in his sweats.

“i can just pause it until you come back weirdo” you shrug at him with a mouth full of skittles.

“nah,i might take a little while” he smiles at your disgusted face,watching as you turn the volume up.

he closes the bathroom door behind him and lets out a huge sigh,he looks at himself in the mirror not believing what he is about to do with you sitting right outside.

he pulls his sweats down,looking down at his boxers which have a dark patch growing on them.

he cups his dick through them,biting his lips to prevent letting out any sounds.

he strokes himself a couple of times over his boxers before pulling them down,his cock desperate for touch more than ever. his tip swollen and leaking.

his thumb spreads the bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip,making him moan softly,his hand drags from there to the base of his dick,slowly starting to pump his cock in his hand.

“fuck” he curses softly,thinking about you who is in his room right now,sitting on his bed,the bed that he has imagined doing the most unimaginable things to you on.

“oh-shit” his strokes get faster,the contact of his hand with his dick making sounds,but the movie is still louder outside.

“chris!” he hears you call him outside,but he doesn’t respond,scared his voice might betray him and let out a moan.

hearing your voice only made him closer,closer to cumming,cumming on your face,cumming in you,cumming in your mouth,these are all the things he thinks about,that grey set stained with his release.

“fuck-f-fuck-oh—-fuck ma- im-gon” his voice breaking apart,his whispers so low not a chance you could hear him.

“ah—shit” with that,white ropes of cum spray all over his hoodie.

his legs trembling for a few seconds,he knew he was going to cum hard but…this is a mess.

he quickly gets rid of the hoodie,balls it up and throws it into the laundry basket that he started keeping in the bathroom after nick told him too,thanks nick-he thinks.

he was still wearing a black tee under so he wasn’t walking out shirtless,its not like you’ve never seen him shirtless but he wanted to be decent (?)

he quickly cleans himself up and walks out of the bathroom in a record of 6 mins. yes .

he quickly sat down next to,now comfortably snuggling close to you.

“what took you so long? and wheres your hoodie?” you ask him,noticing that his hoodie is not on him anymore

“had some bad food for dinner last night,and the hoodie was making me hot and itchy” he smiles at you when you reply with an “ew” not questioning his response.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @nononononshahsbba @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @kier-with-a-k @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @numberonekiddie @whore4chris @chris-hallelujah @sl4ttformattsturniolo @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrisslittleslut @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @idkwhatthisis2009 @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @herewegoagain-b @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

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Luke Castellan is the type to look at you with mischief and somewhat knowing, almost as if he was aware of something that you weren’t yet aware of.

Luke Castellan is the type to walk up silently behind you and wait for you to notice his presence, warning the campers you’re talking to to remain silent so they didn’t ruin the surprise. So when you did notice him, albeit screaming at how he scared the shit out of you, he only laughed as he defended himself from your weak slaps to his biceps.

Luke Castellan is the type of man to steal stuff for you in thanks to him being Hermes’ kid. So he sneaks into cabin with the gifts that he -or with his usual partners in crime the Stolls- had snuck in that reminded him of you. He loves the look upon your face when you did find all the trinkets he has scattered throughout your cabin, seeing the way your eyes softened and your smile only grew at how well he knew you and how he went out of his way to do this for you.

Luke Castellan is the type of man to gift you his hoodies just so he could watch the dejected looks upon others faces when they realised that you were taken, when in reality he has yet to confess his feelings but you in his hoodie made the message clear; you were off limits unless they want to be humiliated in training later. He likes how you look in his clothes but likes it even more that when you do give it back -hesitantly of course- it would have your scent lingering in the fabric. However there would be days where he’d suggest that you’d keep the hoodie entirely, shamelessly wanting to see you in his hoodie for just that little bit longer.

Luke Castellan would most likely be the type to target you when it comes to capture the flag. He would make sure everyone on his team knew that you were his primary opponent, he would make sure to chase you into an empty area under the guise of battle, when in reality you were just going to get backed up against a tree as he smirks in triumph when his team wins and your left sulking and trying to brush him aside as you both return to camp together; completely unscathed. Making everyone in camp suspicious of what happened between the two of you.

Luke Castellan would be the type to get a little jealous when his friends work against him to make him jealous into admitting that he felt something towards you. So Clarisse, Chris, Selina, Charles and sometimes even the Stolls would go out of their way to spend time with you and would drag you away whenever Luke was coming towards you. This does piss Luke off whenever he sees one of his friends pull you towards the other side of the camp, away from him in specific and would even dare to look back at him with a smile before mouthing: ‘say something to them or we will.’

Luke Castellan is the type to be vulnerable towards you, only letting you in when he felt you were close enough for him to pour his heart out to, his feelings towards you don’t come out like his friends hoped but he’d claim to them that he was working on that. However most nights he spent sneaking into your cabin to tell you about his nightmares and the failed quest he went on that mockingly gifted him the scar he bore upon his face.

‘You’re so pretty.’ You muttered softly as you caressed the scar.

‘You’re not scared?’ He’d ask, beautiful deep eyes shinning with unshed tears.

‘How can I ever be scared of someone as beautiful as you Luke, I could look at you forever because I don’t want to miss a single expression your face makes. I want to know your every emotions and know what you’re feeling in certain situations and know how to handle it and comfort you.’ You replied honestly and before you could comment on the sound of his hitched breath, his lips were on yours and your mind went blank in that moment before reciprocating upon realising that this was reality and not the dream you’ve had for a while.

Luke Castellan who seemingly has his arm through over your shoulders at any given moment, refusing to let go as it meant letting you go and now that he has you the way he wanted, Luke didn’t want to go anywhere else unless it was with you in tow. He’s visibly happier as many campers could tell whenever he’s with you, looking at you adoringly whenever you talked passionately of your interests and facts that you’ve learnt recently. He -in Clarisse words- looked like a lovesick puppy with you but he couldn’t help it, he finally got you and he was more then eager to take advantage of getting to be as clingy as possible with you without raising suspicions that everyone knew was the truth.

Luke Castellan is the type to know he’s truly happy with you and strive to have a normal, somewhat domestic relationship with you, which may or may not lead to the two of you being the envy of camp…maybe even being the blueprint of the relationship most wish to have that some will later have in the future. (Percabeth)

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signanothername · 1 day ago

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Is there ever good moments in nightmares castle with the mtt? Maybe not explicitly good but easier than other days?

Where it makes them realize that underneath all the blood shed and murder there's still a monster (the species) underneath it all. Kinda like, a "oh" moment.

There is, they happen as often as their environment allows at least (which is not very often, somewhere along “sometimes”)

MTT are usually pretty much assholes to each other, their abusive environment forces them to do what it takes to survive, even if it means causing each other’s misfortune, but let’s also be honest with ourselves, they aren’t necessarily assholes just because of their environment, they all definitely got a bit of snark to them either way

but depending on the situation, they sometimes do actually help one another, not even truly necessarily out of love for one another, but because they’re all stuck together under the same abusive circumstances, sure, maybe their abuse differs slightly from one another, but they’re all under the same shitty boss anyway, might as well try and make it easier on themselves sometimes no?

Horror and Murder are almost chill with each other, i’d say they’re the only two that have a relationship going on, not a stable or healthy one, but they do like each other’s presence to an extent, but there’s always this division between them and Killer, still, sometimes Killer protects them in his own twisted way, and they protect him in their own twisted ways too, but they just do not trust each other, they’d be fools if they genuinely thought they could rely on one another without consequences, whether one of them stabbing another in the back or even spelling their secrets to Nightmare, whether by habit (Killer) or to get something in return (Horror), or spite and even avoiding punishment (Murder)

But these times they protect each other usually come in the form of warnings that Nightmare is best left alone and to stay as far away from him as possible, or even saving each other from Nightmare’s grasp had they ended up under his nonexistent mercy for any reason, they obviously have to be smart and careful about it, cause if Nightmare catches wind, it’ll only serve to make whatever bad situation they’re in even worse

Nightmare sometimes has suspicions, but he doesn’t usually act until those suspicions are confirmed somehow, so you can imagine how nerve wracking it can be to keep your emotions neutral around a being that can easily tell if you’re feeling something and especially if you’re feeling it a bit strongly, I think these moments they protect each other from Nightmare especially are their most “oh” moments

There are moments where there aren’t really any missions planned and they’re pretty much gonna be chilling in the castle for a few days, maybe a week or two, they mostly prefer to spend these off days by themselves, but sometimes they do spend it together, just chatting about anything to pass the time, maybe even shit talk Nightmare together

Other times they all find themselves in Nightmare’s library, and they spend their time there reading whichever book that caught their attention, simply each reading their own book in silence, and in a few occasions, maybe discussing something interesting they read (a semi-book club of sorts), it’s one of the few forms of entertainment they got anyway

These are the times I’d say are most easy, otherwise, it’s always guard up, try not to die or end up under the self proclaimed’s king’s nonexistent mercy on a bad mood day

#anothers ask #murder time trio #nightmare sans #killer sans #murder sans #dust sans #horror sans

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weedpicnic · 5 hours ago

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I’m gonna derail just a little bit to tell a relevant story but do hear me out; I am 22 years old meaning I only graduated highschool like 3 years ago. I am also Canadian and attended highschool here. I DID go to primary school in America, and at least back then everybody stood for the pledge every single day. Obviously kids of that age aren’t as likely to have any sort of fully formed political opinions as older teenagers so I can’t speak for what it’s like in American highschools.

However the equivalent here in Canada, is that the national anthem plays over the loudspeakers every morning in every school, and we are all expected to stand. When I was in grade 9 I started disregarding this rule. Was this out of pure apathy rather than a particular political motivation? At first, sure, maybe. But only AT FIRST. Did it have consequences? Yes, to me, but eventually to others too. I was caught walking around during the anthem by our vice principal who already had several reasons to dislike me, and he demanded I stand still. He told me I would be pulled from class if I kept walking so I sat down on the ground in front of him while the rest of the song played. At this point it started to feel very political to me at the time, because I have a very strong general dislike for authority, I had been told I had oppositional defiance disorder. I was 14 years old and only just at the very beginning of forming my understanding radicalism/liberation. I would go to protests, why not have my own small form of protest. I didn’t yet know what I know now about canadian imperialism. I would sneer at him and tell him I wouldn’t participate for religious reasons (I am not religious lol.) I basically just knew that the same guy who would confiscate peoples weed and police the bathroom use of trans students was trying to tell me what to do as to police my bodily autonomy and movement, and I did not like that.

So, I started doing it every morning in every one of my classes, even having some of my own peers starting arguments with me about it; and then got sent to the office by an English teacher. This man was gay, liberal, and he basically told me “I know you’re trying to make a point or something, that’s cool, but, not in my classroom. If you’re gonna do that next class you can go do it in front of the office.” This was the same man who was teaching us standardized curriculum about Canadas history of indigenous genocide. This would’ve been in like, 2018.

In 2019 protests began spreading out west in British Columbia about indigenous land rights and the plan to destroy millions of huge, 100+ year old old growth trees in order to build the coastal gas link pipeline. Protesters were chaining themselves to trees until they got bulldozed and being mass arrested. The concept of protest by mass occupation became more prevalent in the media. Activist groups led by indigenous leaders and land defenders were stopping cross country freight and passenger trains by blocking the railroad. In 2020, the unmarked burial sites of thousands of murdered children, victims of the abuse within residential schools, were uncovered. Survivors started speaking up about the violence and trauma that the church and the state had inflicted on them and their family. Priests were getting sent to trial for abuse they had inflicted years and years ago.

Over the years since my freshman year I watched something… interesting happen. More students, sometimes just one or two people, small insular friend groups, but, sometimes the majority of a classroom, would also refuse to stand for the anthem. Some of them said it was because it was 9AM and they were just too tired for that shit (the anthem is a lot longer than the pledge of allegiance lol.) But this meant I no longer got shit for it because they can’t suspend almost a whole classroom of us, right?

I did a “victory lap”/fifth year there to finish up some more courses and by my last days there, no one and I mean literally fucking no one stood for the anthem anymore. It was only a few short years ago that I had been threatened with suspension over doing this, and yet at that point I could not imagine any faculty member having the gal to tell me that I simply had to stand up for the imperialist anthem knowing what we all know now. My apathy had evolved into ideology/ further understanding of what my own actions could mean. What started out of vague distain, a tendency towards disobedience, and a bit of laziness had become a small form of protest that later became the norm among the student community. It was no longer in the hands of the authority figures. And if seeing me continue to do that every day despite sometimes getting in trouble in the earlier years gave even a single one of my peers pause to stop and think about why we have to do this, why SHOULD we have to do this, why should we stand for “our home and native land” that we colonized and stole through violence and genocide, are we really “the land of the free and the home of the brave” if we hid so much of our history for so long, then, that’s not nothing, and it was worth every bit of trouble.

But here’s the even scarier part: my sister is two years younger than me and she attended the same highschool. At some point in her final year in 2023 when I was long gone I asked her what the deal was with that now, and she told me most of the students were standing for the anthem again, and that most of the people her age always had been and usually did. It was pretty much just my grade and older that had been rejecting this en masse.

There are so many studies out there indicating that the younger generation, current teens and young adults, are becoming more conservative at a faster rate. The propaganda machine doesn’t ever just stop because one group at one time and place resisted it. I grew up as someone who is has always been very outspoken and proudly transgender. So I certainly had PLENTY of adults telling me as a teenager, “your generation is going to save the world” and all that bullshit and trust me I fucking hated it. It’s absolutely infuriating and I totally sympathize with powerburials frustration. But I think regardless of whether OP is actually in fact an “embarrassingly aged millennial” (whatever that means lol) giving teenagers ideas, information, resources, big or small, of how to fight back against oppressive power is truly very very fucking important right now. Many of them want to and don’t even know why they want to and that’s okay because they will learn, but they won’t learn and many of them won’t have any place to start without the authority/adults in their life (even if that adult is simply a blog on Tumblr) pushing them in that direction. I didn’t have adults in my real life to materially do these things with me as a teen, I had other trans teens, and I had anger issues, and I had this fuckin website teaching me about communism, decolonization, mutual aid, and direct action.

My school was at the edge of a highway next to a bridge that was essential to connecting the two sides of the city. I would sneak out of class and go for cigarettes by myself and stare into the valley and feel so so angry at the government, at the world, at the medical system, and I would think about all the people who killed themself by jumping off that bridge and wonder what powers made their lives so hard for them, I would wonder if they were like me, and I would feel so, so alone. I would let the sound of the cars on the highway drown my thoughts out. A couple years after graduating I participated in a protest demanding policy reform for climate change and environmental protection that shut down this highway right in front of my high school for the entire day. I was relieved to even see a few of my former peers there, although not that many.

Today I am currently organizing a student strike at my college to demand their disclosure and divestment of funding of the genocide in Palestine. At our first walkout, the dismissal I received from so many of my peers primarily my age and younger was fucking brutal and extremely disheartening, but, we reached a lot of people. We gave people resources to learn about the issue at hand and we strengthened our movement. We will be going on strike in the next year. I have been tirelessly organizing with the help of so many volunteers from my community a fundraiser event tomorrow, which I anticipate will raise a good amount of money for Palestinians, a local food bank, and an organization that helps youth access gender affirming care. If you told that angry kid all those years ago that he would be doing these things today he very well might’ve laughed in your face, he probably would’ve thought it to be a ‘nebulous fantasy’ too.

What I would tell my 14 year old self (who I could even argue only started rejecting the anthem for attention) and what I would tell highschool aged kids everywhere who want to fight fascism and imperialism, is to start organizing locally sooner, trust that you WILL find your people and you will find strength in numbers. start online if you have to, but use these tools to connect with likeminded people in real life. Material direct action is much more important than the symbolism of rejecting participation in something you disagree with. It’s deluded to think that mutual aid and activist organizations in your community don’t exist whatsoever. But as this story hopefully sort of illustrates, symbolism is also important. Start small if you have to but don’t you dare stop there. A tree can’t grow without a seed, so plant that seed and water it. Even if you really do sometimes have to sit there sweating and embarrassed and alone. Because it is ALSO deluded to think the world doesn’t need teenagers to be doing stuff like this lest they become fascist adults as many of my own peers and so much of the younger generation unfortunately now have.

dear usamerican high schoolers looking for a way to resist fascism: sit through the pledge of allegiance.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.

everyone will be looking at you. you'll be sweating like a fucking hippopotamus. your teacher will sternly tell you to get up. you'll feel stupid and that maybe its not worth it because you're just a kid in a classroom. but I'm here to remind you that there are no real life consequences to detention. there are however real life consequences to resisting a thoughtless performance of nationalism.

#.#canadian politics #KKKanada #anti facist #direct action #student strike

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insidekatmind · 3 days ago

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Your Brother's Best Friend- Noni Madueke

Wearning: slight smut

Request: yes!

Being Levi Colwill’s younger sister wasn’t always easy, especially with how protective he was of you. Ever since you were little, Levi had always kept an eye on anyone who came near you, which made you feel safe but sometimes a bit suffocated. Now that he played for Chelsea, his life was a whirlwind of training sessions, matches, and, of course, his teammates.

Among them was Noni Madueke. His radiant smile, contagious energy, and the way he joked with you every time he came over were impossible to ignore. You found yourself looking for any excuse to spend even a few minutes with him whenever he came home with Levi after training.

“Y/N, are you really staring at the wall, or are you watching someone?” Levi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you sat on the couch. Noni had just gone into the kitchen to grab a drink, and, of course, your eyes had followed his every move.

“What? No! I’m just… thinking!” you replied, trying to sound casual. Levi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh, sure. Keep your eyes off my teammates, okay? Especially Noni.”

“Oh, come on, that would never happen!” you lied, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks.

Right at that moment, Noni walked back in with his signature grin and a couple of jokes ready to go. “What’s the topic? Hope you weren’t talking about me, eh?”

Your heart did a somersault, but you just laughed nervously. “Nothing important, we were just chatting.”

He gave you a curious yet kind look, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. He asked you about your university course, and as you talked, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

When Levi noticed that Noni was paying you just a little too much attention, he stepped in. “Alright, enough chit-chat. Noni, let’s go. We’ve got clips from yesterday’s match to review.”

Noni chuckled but, before following Levi, he glanced back at you. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as your heart raced, you couldn’t help but hope that “see you later” meant much more than just a quick chat.

The next day Noni shows up at your house.“Hi, if you're looking for Levi, he's not at home right now,” you say, trying to act normal.

Noni’s cheerful smile widens upon seeing you.“I know, I came to see you, actually,” he replies, his voice oozing confidence.

Your heart flips. He came to see you? Why?

A hundred thoughts race through your mind, but you try to hide the excitement bubbling up. “Me? Why?”

Noni takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.“I figured I needed a break from all the football talk. Plus, I wanted to spend some time with a beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment. It’s hard to think straight when he’s standing so close to you.Clearing your throat, you manage to stutter out a response. “Wh-what do you want to do then?”

Noni grins, enjoying the flustered look on your face.“I don’t know… maybe we could have a quick chat? We’ve never really talked much just the two of us, have we?”

You nod, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. Spending time alone with him is both thrilling and terrifying.“Sure, yeah, we can chat.”

You let him into your house while you try not to freak out and close the door.

Noni follows you inside, his presence filling the room as you both find a place to sit down. He flops onto the couch, completely at ease, while you perch nervously on the edge of the armchair opposite him, trying to slow your racing heart.“So,” he begins, a playful smile on his lips, “What shall we chat about?”

Your mind goes blank for a moment as his piercing gaze fixates on you. You’re used to seeing his carefree smile and hearing his jokes and banter. Being alone with him feels different. Suddenly, your brain can’t seem to come up with a single topic of conversation.“Um… I don’t know… you tell me,” you say, attempting to sound casual.

Noni leans back on the couch, one arm stretched out across the back, still gazing at you intently.“Well, let’s see… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with a smirk.

You smile in amusement at his question. "Do you want to know my favorite color?"

Noni chuckles, enjoying the exchange.“I do. It’s a very important question.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. You can’t believe he’s asking about something so trivial.“Fine. My favorite color is purple.”

Noni raises an eyebrow, pretending to consider your answer.“Purple... interesting choice.”

You can’t help but smile at his exaggerated response. “What’s yours then?”

He pretends to think about it for a moment, though you’re sure he knows his answer immediately.“Mine is whatever color your cheeks turn when you’re embarrassed.”

You blushed at his words and looked away, biting your lip to hide the smile that was breaking out of you.

Noni watches you intently as the blush spreads across your cheeks. He clearly enjoys the effect he has on you.“See, that’s the color I’m talking about,” he grins, pointing at your flushed face. “That’s the prettiest color there is.”

You try to regain your composure and look him in the eye.“You say that to every girl, don’t you?”It’s a half-joke, but there’s a hint of insecurity in your voice. Noni’s smooth with everyone, why should you be any different?

Noni cocks his head, his smile faltering for a moment. He seems to pick up on the hint of vulnerability in your tone.“You think I say that to every girl?” he asks, a flicker of seriousness in his expression.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “I don’t know, you seem pretty charming with everyone around.”

Noni leans forward, his eyes locked on yours.“Maybe it’s different with you.”

Those few words send a shiver down your spine, but you keep your cool and raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh really? What makes me different?”

Noni contemplates his next words for a moment, his gaze intensifying.“It’s just… when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel like a game. It feels different. Real.”His words hang in the air, making your heart pound even faster. You’re not sure if he’s just flattering you or if he really means what he’s saying.

You try to keep your voice steady, not wanting him to realize how much his words affect you.“Real how?” you ask, searching his face for any hint of insincerity.

Noni takes a moment to reply. When he does, his voice is softer, more sincere.“With you, it’s not just about the football or the banter. I like talking to you. Genuinely. It feels like we’re actually connecting, and I don’t feel that with just anyone.”

You smiled softly at his words and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.Seeing your soft smile, Noni's gaze softens further. He leans back against the couch again, watching you intently.

"You know, I don't think you even realize how cute you look right now," he says quietly, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Your heart skips another beat at his compliment. You quickly look down, trying to hide the redness in your cheeks that you know is giving you away."Stop it," you say with a shy smile.

But Noni’s not finished. He moves a little closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone."No, seriously. You're so damn cute when you're flustered."

You can feel his eyes on you, making you feel a mix of nervous and exhilarated. His proximity is intoxicating, and the air between you feels charged."I... I'm not trying to be cute," you stutter, still unable to meet his gaze.

Noni chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you."I know you're not trying. That's what makes it so adorable."

You finally muster up the courage to look at him, and when you do, his gaze pins you in place. It’s intense, almost overwhelming. But there’s something else in his eyes too – a hint of desire, and a flicker of something deeper.

As he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.“You drive me crazy when you blush like that, you know.”

You gulp, feeling the truth of his words sink in. The way he’s looking at you sends a shiver down your spine."I..." you start, but your voice trails off. You can’t form a coherent thought with him so close and his eyes on you like that.

He notices your struggle, and a slow, languid smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He obviously enjoys having you at a loss for words.

The tension between you grows more intense by the second. He slowly reaches out and places a hand on your knee. The touch of his fingers on your skin sends electricity through your body."You know," he murmurs, moving his face closer to yours, "I'd love to see just how red you can get."His words are like a flame igniting a fire within you.

You can feel your heart racing in your chest as he inches nearer. He's so close now you can smell his cologne, a perfect mix of spicy and musky. All your rational thoughts seem to disappear, leaving only the pounding in your chest and the burning desire in your veins.

"I..." you begin again, but he cuts you off with a knowing smile.

"Shh," he whispers, bringing his fingers to your lips delicately."Don't overthink it. Just let me do this." His other hand moves up to caress your cheek, the pads of his fingers soft against your skin. You’re lost in his eyes and the sensations he's evoking within you that you barely notice him leaning in even closer."Just... relax," he murmurs, his breath warm on your face.

He's so close now you could count every one of his eyelashes. Your breaths mingle together, and you feel as though the world has shrank to just the two of you.With a tender yet firm touch, he slides his hand behind your neck, pulling you even closer. The way he touches you is electrifying, sending sparks through every nerve in your body.

"You're trembling," he whispers, his lips so close to yours now you can almost taste them. "Are you nervous?"

You nod. It's a lie. You’re not nervous. You're overwhelmed, excited, yearning.

"Good" he says, the word a hot breath against your mouth. "That means you want this as badly as I do."

And then, finally, his lips brush against yours. It's a soft, hesitant touch at first, as if he's testing your reaction. But as soon as your lips respond eagerly to his, he leans in further, deepening the kiss.Your mind goes blank, consumed by the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him on your tongue. Every nerve in your body is alive and on fire.

The hand on your neck tightens, pulling you against him. Your bodies are flush now, molded to each other. His free hand slips from your knee to your waist, pulling you even closer. The contact is almost dizzying.

He breaks the kiss momentarily, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed."You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You let out a shaky sigh, your head reeling from the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as you try to ground yourself."You... you have?" you manage to ask, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.

Noni opens his eyes, his gaze intense as it locks with yours."For weeks. Maybe months," he admits, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your waist.

"I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you."His confession sends a thrill through you, making your heart pound even louder. You can’t believe he's been harboring this kind of feelings for so long."But... why didn’t you say anything?" you ask, searching his face.

He smiles at your question, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes."Your brother would've killed me," he laughs quietly.

The mention of your brother snaps you back to reality for a moment. It’s true. Levi would absolutely lose his mind if he knew about this.You bite your lip, not wanting to think about that right now. Right now, you just want to be with Noni and forget everything else.

Noni seems to pick up on your concern, and he gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes.“Don’t worry about him. For now, just focus on me.”

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another fiery kiss. This time there’s no hesitation, just raw, unfiltered passion.His hands move to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulls you up closer. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and you find yourself straddling him, the heat between you almost unbearable.

Your fingers slide into his hair, grabbing handfuls as you kiss him back with equal fervor.His hands now free, they explore your body greedily, tracing up your back and along your arms, as if trying to memorize every curve.The sensations he’s evoking in you are unlike anything you’ve felt before, and you find yourself yearning for more, arching against him shamelessly.

He groans into your mouth, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His hands move down to your hips, anchoring you firmly against him. You can feel the evidence of his desire for you, pressing into your core, making you want him even more.He kisses along your jawline, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He continue down your neck, lingering on your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and uneven. He nips at your collarbone, sucking at the sensitive flesh in a way that makes your head swim.His hands pull at the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your jeans, his fingers gently caressing the bare skin of your back. The touch of his fingers is like a brand, marking you as his.

The need to feel closer, to feel his skin against yours, is overwhelming. You tug at his shirt, wanting to get it off, but Noni stops you, his hands finding your wrists and pinning them to the couch cushion beside your head.He pulls away from your neck just enough to look at you, eyes fiery and dark with a hunger that makes you shiver.

"Slow down," he breathes, his voice gravelly. "We've got plenty of time."

You try to catch your breath, your body thrumming with unsatisfied desire. Noni notices and smirks, enjoying your impatient state."Slow," he repeats, this time emphasizing the word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips against yours.

A strangled gasp escapes you, the friction of his body grinding against yours sending a wave of pleasure through you.

The smirk on his face grows as he feels the effect he’s having on you."Feels good, doesn’t it?" he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours.

Noni does it again, grinding against you slowly but firmly, eliciting another gasp from you. You can feel him against you, hard and ready, and it’s driving you wild.

“I want to touch you,” you say, your voice a bit whiny.

“You are touching me,” Noni points out, still grinding against you tantalizingly. “Be patient.”

You bite your lip, trying to regain some control over yourself. But it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like that, like you’re the most desirable woman he’s ever seen.

He lets go of your wrists, his hands moving down to the button of your jeans.“Is this what you want?” he asks, hooking a finger in the waistband.

You nod, unable to form words, your heart pounding with anticipation. His free hand slides up under your shirt, splaying across your stomach. You arch against him, wanting – needing – more touch.

Noni unbuttons your jeans, his fingers sliding slowly down the zipper. His hands linger at the edge, teasingly not going any further. Each touch is like a taunt, making you ache for more. You squirm under him, unable to bear the torturous slowness of his movements.

"Noni, please," you whisper, your voice taut with need. "Stop teasing me."He chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

“But I like teasing you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your exposed skin. “Your body responds so beautifully when I play with you.”

Despite your protests, he continues his torturous pace, his hand finally sliding into your jeans, caressing the sensitive skin of your hip. You arch against him again, a small moan escaping your lips."God, you're so ready for me, aren't you?" he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

You can’t deny it. Every inch of your body is burning for his touch, yearning for more than the teases he’s currently giving you. You feel like you’re going to burst, like you need him in ways you’ve never needed anything before.“Noni, please,” you say again, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. “I can’t take this anymore. I need you.”

His answering smile is almost predatory. He can tell he’s got you exactly where he wants.“What do you need?” He asks, his fingers continuing their slow, lazy movements. The hand under your shirt slides up higher, just grazing the underside of your breast.

You can barely string a coherent thought together, let alone form a proper sentence.“You,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “I need you. All of you.”

His smile widens at your words, and his fingers start to move a little faster now.“Is that right?” he asks, his voice a low growl now. “You want all of me, don’t you?

“Yes,” you breathe, your body responding to his every touch. “All of you. Please, Noni. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Noni leans in to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Impatient,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

“Can you blame me?” you ask, your voice wavering as his fingers start to dip even lower. “You’ve been torturing me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes finding yours. The heat in them makes your heart skip a beat.“Patience is a virtue,” he reminds you, his tone almost chiding. “And I want you to beg for it.”

You almost let out a whine at his words. He wants you to beg? You’re already on the verge of begging, but you’re not quite there yet. You hold onto the last shred of pride you have left and shake your head.“I’m not going to beg,” you say, trying to sound defiant.

His eyes flash with desire as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.“Oh you will,” he says, his lips right next to your ear. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

You were about to say something but you hear a door open, you quickly get off Noni and fix yourself trying to act normal.Noni is equally caught off guard, and he stands up, adjusting his shirt and trying to look casual.

Levi steps into the room, his gaze moving between you two. There's a moment of awkward silence as he takes in the scene before him.His eyes narrow slightly as they land on you, and then on Noni, who's standing a little too close to you for comfort.

"Everything okay in here?" Levi asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you say, a little too quickly. You hope he doesn't notice how out of breath you are.

Levi's eyes flick back to Noni, his expression cool."What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone clearly hostile.

Noni responds with an easy smile, as if this kind of hostility is nothing new to him."Just wanted to stop by and say hi," he says smoothly. "Is that a crime?"Levi scowls at his response, his hackles clearly raised.

You notice your brother's look inviting you to go to your room and you nod, getting up. "Ok, it's getting late, I better go to my room" you murmur, giving Noni one last look.

Noni locks eyes with you, the intense heat still there, but you can also see a trace of disappointment at the premature end of your time together.You give him a small smile, silently communicating that you'd wanted things to end differently too.

As you walk by Levi, heading towards your room, you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, but you don't dare look back.You close the door quietly behind you, your heart still racing from Noni's proximity and your brother's unexpected appearance.

You flop down on your bed, not bothering to undress. Your mind is racing with thoughts of what might have happened if Levi hadn't interrupted you. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but wonder...

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satellite-evans · 1 day ago

Text

Unfaithful

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Going trough a breakup hits harder whe you realize only your hearts gets broken.

Word count: 1.6k+

Warnings: angst, no happy ending. mention of age gap.

A/N:

I wrote something similar for Chris Evans a couple of years ago and wanted to write it now with Lewis bc I liked the concept xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Love. It’s a difficult word to understand, even harder to feel. Everyone has felt it at least once, but in different amounts. That’s why people sometimes compare it to chemistry. If you pour in too much, if the balance is even slightly off, it can become dangerous. It can destroy you.

And that’s exactly what happened with you and Lewis. You loved him too much. At least, that’s what your friends told you. They spoke in hushed voices, their pitying eyes following you across rooms, as if love had left you fragile. As if you might shatter if someone breathed too hard in your direction. You’d hear what your therapist had to say about it next week, but you weren’t looking forward to it.

What was she going to tell you anyway? That you had issues to work on, that it wasn’t your fault, and that healing takes time? Nothing you didn’t already know. Nothing you hadn’t told yourself a hundred times over in the dead of night while lying awake, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself not to check your phone. Because you knew there would be nothing from him.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting.

It hurt, like all endings do, but this was different. It hurt that it ended for you, but it also hurt that it never truly started for him. That realization struck you in the middle of the night sometimes, jolting you awake with a sharp pain in your chest. You would reach out for him instinctively, fingers fumbling against empty sheets, the cold linen burning against your skin like ice. The loneliness of your bed mocked you, whispering the truth you had refused to see for so long.

“You should’ve seen this coming, Y/N.”

How could you? He acted, he talked, he listened, and he loved like he was yours. In the 29 years of your life, you had never felt more alive than when you were with him. He made you want to do more, to be more. You remembered the way he used to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way his voice softened when he said your name, the way his hands always found yours in crowded places. He was your best boyfriend.

Until he decided he wasn’t.

And looking back, you wondered if he ever really was. If it had all been an illusion, a cruel trick you had played on yourself. You combed through every moment, every smile, every touch, every whispered “I love you,” dissecting it all with a surgeon’s precision, trying to find the exact moment it all went wrong.

Was it the first time he hesitated before saying “I love you” back? The time he forgot your anniversary? The night he turned away when you reached for him? Or had he been leaving you long before that, piece by piece, while you remained blissfully unaware, drowning in a love that only you were truly feeling?

In all honesty, you never thought that someone you loved so much could become the person you hated most. But then again, you can’t hate someone you never truly loved, can you?

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” someone once told you. “People cross that line all the time. Sometimes, just one word can make you fall in love, and just one word can make you despise someone.”

In your case, it was two.

“I cheated.”

You remembered the way he said it—calm, almost indifferent, like he was commenting on the weather. Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.

The world had blurred around you in that moment. Your vision tunneled, sound faded, and for a few seconds, it was just you and those two words, echoing through your skull, carving themselves into your bones. You had expected guilt, regret, maybe even tears. But all you got was a hollow confession and a half-hearted apology that came too late to mean anything.

The worst part? You hadn’t even screamed. You hadn’t cried. You had just stood there, nodding, as if accepting the inevitable. As if you had known all along and had simply been waiting for confirmation.

But that was the thing about love—it made you blind. It made you believe in things that were never real.

And now, you were left with nothing but memories and an emptiness you didn’t know how to fill.

The words still echoed in your mind, playing on a cruel, endless loop. They replayed every time you closed your eyes, every time you saw a couple on the street, every time you passed a place where you had once been happy together. The thought of it made you want to pull your hair out. How had you been so blind? Had love really done this to you? Were you so deeply in love with him that you ignored all the red flags?

No. You weren’t doing this again. You weren’t blaming yourself for someone else’s choices. Lewis had painted all the red flags green with his charm and his words.

Until your tears washed the paint away and revealed the truth.

What hurt the most was that he didn’t care. He didn’t care that you stayed up talking to him for hours when you had early morning meetings. He didn’t care that you flew across the world just to surprise him at his race. He didn’t care that you were always the one encouraging him before every challenge. That realization cut the deepest. Not just that he had hurt you, but that he had never really cared if he did.

He. Simply. Didn’t. Care.

And now, you were left alone, with no one to talk to, no one to travel across time zones for, no one to encourage you.

“Why?”

It was just one word, but it held a thousand meanings.

Why did you cheat on me? Why did you make me believe I was yours? Why did you let me fall in love with you? Why me? Why did you hurt me?

It didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t worth your tears. He wasn’t worth your anger, your heartbreak, your sleepless nights.

Lewis didn’t deserve your love. Just like he didn’t deserve your pain.

Alcohol. That was his excuse.

"I—I swear, Y/N. I didn't mean to. I had too many drinks, and when I woke up, she was just… there."

Of course, he would blame it on everything but himself. Why would he take responsibility? Lewis Hamilton, the man adored by millions, was a selfish coward when it came to love.

At least he wasn’t a good liar. His stuttering, his clenched jaw, his hands running through his curls—all signs of guilt. He was suffering in front of you, and you should have enjoyed it.

But you didn’t.

Even now, even after everything, you felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because of your mother, who had always told you to see the good in people, to have empathy.

You wished she hadn’t. Especially now.

Deep down, you had known. Lewis had changed, right in front of your eyes. He went from the man who would rather stay in with you, watching movies on a rare free night, to someone who partied and came home at 3 a.m. You blamed it on stress, on pressure, on everything except the truth.

The truth was that it was all him.

“Whatever. I’m done listening to your excuses, done pretending everything is okay. You can’t even lie to me properly, Lewis. And maybe I should’ve known. You never cared about my feelings anyway.”

His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken. But his eyes—they told a story of regret. And you knew, if you stared too long, you’d start believing him again.

So you looked away.

“Please, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you.”

The urge to slap him, to scream, to break something, surged through you. But you held it back. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he still had that power over you.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to stand tall.

“And I don’t want to keep waiting, hoping that one day you’ll realize I’m what you want, Lewis. I’m done. I lost someone who never cared about me. But you? You lost someone who would’ve done anything for you.”

His eyes were glassy now, staring straight into yours.

“What are you saying?”

“I was the only one who actually fell in love. You just pretended.”

With that, you grabbed your keys and walked out of his apartment, slamming the door behind you—just like he had slammed shut the door to your heart.

Your first instinct was to drive away as far as possible and never look back. But for some reason, you couldn't. For some silly reason, you looked back to see that he would come after you, begging to stay, but he didn't. The street was empty and cold, just like him.

The moment your forehead touched the steering wheel, your eyes began to cry uncontrollably. Like a leaf in the cold night, your whole body started to shake, and the only thing you could do was cry even harder. It was a blessing you hadn't cried in front of him; you didn't want him to see you vulnerable and broken. Yet every fiber of your being had fought to hold those tears back, and now, they were no longer strong enough to keep them inside. In fact, you didn't want to be strong anymore. All you'd done in life was pretend everything was okay, acting as though words didn't hurt you. As though Lewis didn't hurt you.

You were done.

After drying your face with some tissues you found in your car, you took a deep breath, started the car and started driving.

You had no exact destination in where you wanted to go, you just kept driving. But one thing was clear:

You were never going back. Even if your heart ached, too.

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