#Sorry - Right Round The Clock

[krosiefics]

is that a bet? • stray kids ot8 x reader

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: at some point of playing ‘never have I ever’, you make a bet that you could make all eight of your best friends cum within 10-15 minutes…and well, you did.

WC: 3.7k (I have issues)

Tags: PURE SMUT, afab!reader, softdom!chan, dom!minho, dom!changbin, softdom!hyunjin, sub!jisung, sub!felix, dom!seungmin, switch!jeongin, switch!reader, piv, unprotected sex (wrap the eggplant yall), same hole double penetration, ass smacking, squirting, begging, overstimulation, hair pulling, spitting, oral (f. receiving), lwk gangbang, praise (pretty, good girl), degradation (slut, whore), light dacryphilia, breeding kink, creampie, biting(?), grinding, pet names (baby, babe, princess, hun, darling, kitten, bun, etc), marking/hickey, probably forgetting some…sorry :P

a/n: this is so smutty i am so sorry…but yw 🫠

You don’t remember how exactly you ended up in this position…something about a bet, yet here you are, half-naked spread out on the floor with eight pairs of eyes burning into your body.

8 minutes earlier

“Never have I ever,” Minho pauses in thought, “nutted before my partner.”

“What the actual fuck Minho.” Seungmin grimaces, though he takes a swig of soju. “What?!” Minho shrugs defensively, “It makes the game more interesting.”

“That’s a fucking lie though.” Jisung snorts as he also takes a shot of soju. “And how would you know that?” You ask with a sly smirk.

“I’ve seen him watch porn,” He deadpans, which sends everyone into a fit of laughter.

“You wanna bet Ji?” Minho challenges.

“Y’all seriously aren’t about to jerk off right here…right?” Chan looks at them in disgust and then at the white shag carpet underneath them, “Why, you wanna join?” Minho pokes.

“I bet none of y’all virgins can stop yourselves from cumming as soon as someone touches you.”

“You wanna make that bet.” Changbin chimes in. You groan at them which catches their attention, “Do you have something to say princess?” Jisung raised his brows teasingly. You groan yet again at the nickname before saying, “I bet I could make all y’all cum in fifteen, maybe ten minutes.”

“You really wanna do this?” Hyunjin lifts your chin with his finger. “Hmm,” you hum, “if you guys cum before I do, a hundred…from each of you.”

“That’s eight hundred bucks!” Jeongin blurts out, you nod slyly. “And if we win?” Felix tilts his head. “Y’all can decide on that.” you state.

You move to get up, dragging your hoodie over your body and exposing your oversized shirt underneath. You turn around looking at the eight boys. “Are we doing this or not?”

Everyone unanimously agrees. It went so fast, the soju from the previous rounds probably getting to everybody’s heads and letting you carelessly make these decisions.

“Oh and rules-“ “RULES?!” Minho, Seungmin and Jisung cried out. “Guys it’s her body, she can make rules.” Felix interrupts their protests. “Thanks Lix,” You smile before continuing, “no touching…well to be more clear no touching me or yourselves…but I can touch you.”

“What?!” They all exclaimed in disappointment.

“It makes the game more interesting.” You shrug, spewing Minho’s previous words at them, the said boy shoots you a playful glare.

You glanced over at the digital clock that hung from the wall. 12:48.

Present

And well, that’s how you ended up here.

Your hand trails down your body stopping at your soaked panties before circling over your clit, toes curling at the feeling.

You stare up at the eight boys, their eyes dazed on your leaking cunt that stains your panties. You let out a moan as you hook your fingers around the material and slip it down your legs, exposing your now bare glistening cunt. You let a finger plunge into your heat, biting your lip. You lock eyes with Changbin, his knuckles gripping at his sweatpants, the outline of his cock bulging through the material. You bite your lip as you stare at his bulge.

The sound of a small whine prompts you to look over at another flustered and painfully hard boy. Jisung looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip is caught between his teeth. “Please, Y/N.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” You coo, pulling your fingers out of your cunt and crawling ever so slowly towards the round cheeked boy. As you settle by his side, you purposefully arch your back and push your ass out so that the guys sitting criss crossed on the floor behind me have a nice view. You trail your fingers up his knee and towards his thigh

He shivered under your touch as you made your fingers dance along his inner thigh. A desperate whimper left his mouth as you pulled back teasingly and went back to your original spot on the shag carpet.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin breathed out, “you’re ethereal.” His usually perfectly sculpted face contoured into a needy look- yet through his desperation he still looked as beautiful as ever. You moan softly as his praise. “Oh, does our little slut like to be praised?” Minho said to your right, you turned to him and bit your lip, your legs instinctively closing as his degradation surged throughout your body. “Fuck and degration too.” Seungmin hums as your eyes trail to him.

The hot touch of a hand on your lower hips snapped you out of the trace that Seungmin had basically pulled you into. You look towards your right, and there Minho is, smirking as his hand squeezes at the curve of your ass. “Hey!” You slapped his hand away, “No touching!”

“You never said what would happen if we did though, kitten.” The stupid pet name had you squeezing your legs together even more, “Aw, such a filthy slut for us.”

“Shit he’s right,” Felix breathed out, “what happens if we do touch you?” Shit, you didn’t think this far ahead- fuck you don’t even remember what the prize of the bet was…or if there even was one. Why are you guys even doing this again? “Fuck,” Chan groans gently, “does this pretty little cunt of yours want to be filled, love?” You feel his rough hands cup your bare cunt, jerking at the sudden touch. “Y/N?” Jeongin’s soft voice cracked as he whined out your name. You hummed in response as you fought the urge to grind against Chan’s large hand. “Can we touch you now? Please.”

“Oh God,” You throw your head back with a moan as Chan teasingly slips a finger inside your glistening pussy, “fuck yes! Please Innie!”

With that Jeongin springs up to his feet and quickly makes his way towards you. At the corner of your eye, you see the other five move from their spot to get closer to you. “Fuck,” you moan, feeling Changbin’s hands run under your tshirt, lightly teasing your pebbled nipples, “why did we do this again?” A small chuckle resonated from Seungmin’s sweet lips, “Because you wanted to win a bet, right pup?”

You bite down on your lower lip, Jisung’s lips attaching themselves to your clit next to where Chan’s fingers are plummeted inside. Felix helps you out of your shirt as Hyunjin and Changbin each take one of your breasts into their mouth. It all happened so quickly and at the same time, you feel your climax nearing faster than ever. And just like that your release is stolen from you as the four boys pull away from your body. You whine out desperately, “I swear to fucking God if y’all do that again I’m leaving and finishing by myself!” You threaten, sitting up onto your knees.

“Okay, okay princess.” Jisung purrs as he tilts your head up by hooking his knuckle under your chin.

You whimper as he nears your face, “This okay?” you gulp and nod quickly and to that he just clicks his tongue, pulling back slightly. “Words babe.”

“Yes.” you sigh breathlessly, Jisung attaches his lips to yours ever so roughly, a pair of soft hands grab at your hips, placing you down onto their lap. Your legs slotted against your chest being held by the man whom you’re laying on, while the said man leaves butterfly kisses along the nape of your neck.

Chan slipped his fingers out of your cunt prompting you to whine but the feeling of something warm and wet poking at your clit causes the whine to turn into a gasp, Jisung takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your thighs instinctively clench around the head that’s propped between them.

“So sweet.”

Jeongin muttered against your folds before slotting his tongue alongside it yet again. “Holy fuck Innie!” you throw your head back, lips detaching from Jisung’s, with an erotic moan, your head now resting on the shoulder of the man behind you. At this angle you catch a glimpse at the the man- fucking hell.

He sinks his teeth into your neck, though the action seems so rough he doesn’t bite down to the point where it hurts. “Fuck, keep her making those faces.” Felix bites his lip, his hand rubbing himself through his shorts. You whine, shutting your eyes as Jeongin continues to assault your throbbing cunt as Changbin moves into massage your breasts. “Look at you,” Minho purred into your ear as he started grinding his hardened cock against your ass, “being so obedient and submissive for everyone, just like the little slut you are.” You moan out at the overwhelming mixture of sensations; Hyunjin nibbling at your nipple, Jeongin’s tongue running up and down your folds, and Minho breathing dirty words into your ear while peppering your shoulder with kisses and love bites.

The cat eyed boy sneakily brings his hand to your cunt and smacks it slightly, not too hard but enough that it stung a little. “Fuck you,” you groan out as Minho massages your core, his fingers dipping further down towards where Jeongin’s face is buried. “No,” Minho tsked, “I’ll do the fucking.”

“Don’t be too rough on her Min.” Chan spoke, you glance over to him and he had his hand shoved down his pants. “She likes it.” Seungmin said confidently, “Right, whore?” You do nothing but whimper at his words meanwhile your body starts to shake slightly. “Answer with words pup.”

“God, fuck yes! I love it- please don’t stop.” You can feel Jeongin smirk against your heat.

Your eyes wandered to the boy next to Seungmin, his eyes stuck on mine as his pretty face scrunched up, his shorts rustling while his hand too was shoved inside, and his freckled cheeks flushed so very red. “Lix,” you gesture for him to move closer, almost immediately the freckled boy quickly rushed down from his spot on the couch and next to you on the floor. He looks at you with pleading eyes, “take it off.”

You grab at the hem of his shirt, he swiftly pulls it over his head awaiting your next instruction. You were about to ask him something but the feeling of a harsh bite on your inner thigh caused you to squeak out instead. Your head whips down to see Hyunjin licking at the skin he just bit. They’re moving so quickly you can barely keep up with who’s doing what.

“Can we fuck you already?” A voice said from your left, your head instinctively turning towards the source. Seungmin stared at you with prying eyes. “Kim Seungmin!” Chan lightly smacked his shoulder, “Let her choose, remember?” The oldest shakes his head at the younger. “Min,” You whimper from the stimulation. “Yeah?” Both Seungmin and Minho responded. “Lee.” Seungmin pouted as Minho leaned in closer, hooking his chin on your shoulder.

Though your senses are so overloaded, you snake your hands down the space between your bodies, shifting your hips up to grab at his hardened cock. Minho’s brows furrow as you stroke his clothed dick. “Desperate are we?” He smirks, “You want all eight of us tonight? Or just a few?” Chan questions, he’s so thoughtful and that makes your heart hammer in your chest. “All.”

”Fuck.” Each boy’s voice sounds throughout the room, they all stare at you with lust-filled eyes.

Your hand that’s still wrapped around Minho’s cock, begins pumping it. Minho hisses at the feeling, precum leaking from the tip. You tease his slit before shifting your hips in his lap. Lifting your hips, you grind down on his cock, your arousal coating his shaft.

“Oh, fucking hell.” Minho throws his head back erratically as his tip pokes at your clit, he could feel as you throbbed against him. He wanted nothing more than to slip inside you already. Unbeknownst to Minho, you gesture with your head for Hyunjin to move closer.

The taller boy obeys, moving into your space, sealing your lips against his. Hyunjin’s hands moved to your hips, gently- yet quickly- pushing you down onto Minho’s cock. Both you and Minho moan out as you clench around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so well, yeah slut.” Minho grunts before he slams his hips into you roughly, not even allowing you to adjust. “Min, not too rough.” Chan warned as you dug your nails into Hyunjin’s shoulder as he continued kissing you.

“Yeah, she’s still got all of us!” Jeongin whined from Chan’s left. You clench at Jeongin’s words, the thought of you having all eight of them tonight makes you spiral towards your climax. “Not yet kitten. Hold it off.” Minho snarled into your ear, his cock continuously hitting your gspot.

“Hyune.” You whined, reaching down to pump his cock, jerking him towards your pussy that is getting pounded into by Minho. “Shit, you want me too darling?” Hyunjin smirked, his eyes gazing down towards where you and Minho are connected, where you’re pulling him towards.

You hastily nod, nothing but whimpers and moans spilling out from your mouth. Hyunjin shoots Minho a look over your shoulder, the latter smirks at him, taking your thighs and pushing them farther back to give space to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin’s tip pokes at your entrance before he pushes in. The stretch didn’t hurt too bad, but it was enough for tears to prickle in your eyes. As Hyunjin and Minho fucked into you, tears finally fell, cascading down your cheeks from the mixture pleasure and pain.

“Aw, don’t cry bun.” You hear Changbin coo. The built man moving over to you, kissing the tear stains on your cheeks. “They making you feel that good?” He gives a sly raise of his brow, his bottom lips jutting out. “F-Fuck Binnie.” You moan, you can feel both Minho and Hyunjin twitching inside you.

A harsh slap stings on your ass as Minho rubs at the now red spot. “I’m so close princess, can I fill you up?” Hyunjin grunts against your neck. “Yes, God, please, Hyune.” Your body begins to shake as Hyunjin spills into you, Minho following close after at the feeling of your clenching and Hyunjin’s cum coating his cock.

Jisung pushes Changbin out of his way before helping you up off of Minho and Hyunjin’s sweaty bodies, greedily taking you towards the sofa, sitting down and playing you on his lap. Jisung’s cock slips in with ease after being stretched out by Minho and Hyunjin.

You melt into Jisung touch as his hands guide you to roll your hips. His hands make their way towards your ass, spreading your cheeks apart revealing your swollen cunt to the boys behind you.

“Fuck you’re so warm baby.” Jisung groans into your ear. Suddenly another pair of hands are on you, massaging at your hips before rutting his cock between your ass. “Can I have a turn hun?” You hear Felix hum behind you.

You turn your head and give him a weak smile as a go ahead. With that Felix slips his cock alongside Jisung’s, both boys moaning at the feeling. Having almost orgasmed earlier, you feel it build up quicker than last time. Your thighs began quaking as Jisung bucked his hips and Felix thrusted into you.

Your hands shoot up to Felix’s blonde hair, tugging at it when the two boys hit your gspot directly. Felix released a low whimper, “Darling please, I won’t- last long if you do that.” He stumbled over his words, his freckled cheeks a deep pink hue.

You decide to tease the boy, clenching down on his (and Jisung’s) cock, pulling at his hair. You feel as he twitched inside of you before unexpectedly releasing. The freckled boy’s face scrunched up in pleasure as he leaned his forehead against yours as Jisung thrusted into you a few more times before emptying himself into you as well.

“Holy shit.” Felix shook, biting his lower lip before slowing his thrusts, robbing you from your orgasm again. “Save it for me, yeah love?” You heard Chan chuckle to your right. You turn to look at him, flinching when Felix and Jisung ease out of your clenching cunt.

Jeongin helps you off of the other’s bodies. He holds you up when your legs threaten to give out on you. Holding you by the waist, his pretty brown eyes flicker down to your lips, hesitant to lean in. You chuckle before cupping his cheeks and pulling his lips towards yours.

Jeongin groans into the kiss as he grinds his clothed erection into your hips. He pulls away, an embarrassed flush taking over his cheeks. You chuckle before setting him on the sofa like the other had been previously positioned.

Throwing your legs around his lap, you straddled the flustered boy under you. “This okay Innie?” You asked, even though you’ve already crossed that friendship line with him having already eaten you out, you still wanted to make sure he was okay with this.

“Oh fuck yeah I’m okay.” Jeongin grinned, his hands immediately roaming your breasts, squeezing and massaging at the flesh. You hastily undo the zipper of his jeans before tugging his cock out of the slacks. Jeongin hissed at your touch.

Suddenly a hot sting spread through your ass. You whimpered at the slight pain, turning over to see Seungmin glaring down at you. “Bend.” Jeongin stared up at the elder and you in a daze. You leaned as much as you could onto Jeongin before another slap landed on your ass.

A moan echoing from your mouth. With you moaning into his ear, Jeongin grew impatient, grabbing his cock before pressing inside of you. The mixture of the slaps and Jeongin’s cock filling you up made your back arch.

Before you could even begin to process what was happening, Seungmin rammed his cock inside your sopping cunt. You practically scream from the sudden intrusion, nails digging into Jeongin’s shoulders.

The two youngest boys out of your friends absolutely railed you, both stopping whenever your moans would pitch and you would start squeezing their cocks uncontrollably. “Minnie, Innie- let me please, I’m so close.” You cried, that knot in your stomach so tight that it almost hurt.

“You think you deserve it, after driving us all into this stupid bet, you whore?” Seungmin snarled, grabbing your hair and pulling your head backwards, “Open.” You oblige, parting your lips, lolling your tongue out as you understood what the man was hinting at. Seungmin let a drop of saliva fall from his mouth and into yours before harshly pushing your head back towards Jeongin’s neck.

The two boys continued using your cunt until they were spurting out warm ropes into you. Yet again you were robbed from your orgasm as the two roughly filled up your cunt.

“Fuck, you did so well pup.” Seungmin panted against the nape of your neck, leaving a small kiss there before slipping out of your pussy. When you pulled away from Jeongin’s sweaty body, he stared up at you with a wide grin and a dazed look, he looked absolutely fucked out.

Changbin helps you off the boys before pushing Jeongin off the couch and getting comfortable in that same spot, pulling you onto his lap. “You wanna take a breather?” Chan asked, crouching down to your seated level. “No…just…please, I’m so close.”

Changbin chuckled from behind you, guiding you to straddle him in reverse. You sink onto Changbin’s thick cock, the built man’s hands flying to your tits, holding and squeezing them as they bounce with your movements.

You peer through your eyelashes, raising your brow at Chan, insinuating for him to hurry up and fuck you. The oldest of the eight chuckles before slipping his cock out of his pants. “Gonna fill you up so good, yeah baby?” He says before sliding right inside your stretched out pussy.

“Holy mother of fuck!” You cursed, the stretch of Changbin was already overwhelming- but now adding on Chan’s way above average length…you don’t think you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

Changbin thrusted harshly from underneath you, roughly pinching at your nipples. “Fuck bun, your squeezing us so much, might just bust right now.”

You loll your head back into his shoulder, “Bin…fuck- Binnie please.” You beg, your arms moving to tug at his wavy hair.

“Shit,” he huffed, his cock twitching inside you as he fastened his speed. Chan just watched as Changbin rammed into your cunt alongside his. The intense feeling of Changbin railing into you from underneath had you reeling, though the sudden circling of your clit made your orgasm finally hit you.

Liquid squirting out of you as you cried out, before Changbin released inside of you, Chan now picking up his pace, edging towards his climax.

“I know love, I’m sorry…just a few more.” Chan cooed as you whimpered from the overstimulation, he continued railing into you, not stopping when Changbin had pulled out of you.

Chan nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving kisses and sucking at the skin there. “Almost there love, gonna fill you up so good, yeah. You’ve been such a good girl for us.” His praise had you crying out, squeezing around his cock. At that Chan finally came, filling you up with his warm release.

Chan slowly eased out of you before gently moving you to lay on the less dirty part of the couch.

“Imma go get the towels.” A voice you’re not even sure who’s said. “I’ll get her some water.” Another stated.

Sometime later, Felix returned with some damp warm towels. As he wiped your lower region, you flinched at the sensitivity. “I’m sorry darling, almost done.”

A sudden hand gently raised your head from the back, supporting you to sit up. “You okay? We didn’t go too rough on you, right?” Seungmin asked as Minho handed you a glass of water. You took the glass with an appreciative smile.

“You guys were fine- oh.”

“Oh?” Hyunjin smiled in confusion. “The time.” You said pointing at the digital clock. 1:03. Exactly fifteen minutes.

“I win.” Some of the boys groaned while some chuckled, a bet is a bet after all.

taglist: @katsukis1wife

[anxiouscherubs]

sunday morning

𖤓 summary: the one where you wake up too soon from a wet dream and your boyfriend is there to help you... relieve the tension. 𖤓 warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, established relationship, some degradation, bdsm dynamics, yeo is a bit of a mean dom!! you've been warned!!, use of the color system, some choking, fingering, spanking, lovebites, oral sex (f receiving), edging, unprotected sex (don't do that), yes there's aftercare im not a monster 𖤓 dom!yeosang x fem!sub!reader 𖤓 author's note: i know i said i would post this by the end of march but wedding planning and school and work are consuming my life!!!!! finished this with a literal ear infection bc i NEEDED to put it out into the universe lol. this was originally inspired by the fact that yeosang uses the replica lazy sunday morning fragrance and quickly spiraled into depravity. yeosang wrecks me every day of my life and i KNOW he gets nasty. he's too quiet to be anything other than a dom, sorry! this is also my first time writing a relationship with bdsm dynamics so please feel free to leave (constructive and kind) feedback! 𖤓 word count: 5.9k 𖤓 read it on ao3 here

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“Sangie, please” you moan into your boyfriend’s neck, his cock plunging in and out of you at a relentless pace. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” he teases, his fingers finding your clit, circling the sensitive bud to match the pace of his thrusts. 

”I’m so close, baby, fuck,” your hands tangle in his dark hair as you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. He licks a firm stripe from your collarbone to right below your ear, never slowing his hips. 

“Come on then, baby, fall apart around my cock,” he growls into your ear. 

The pleasure settles in your core, hot and heavy, building and building as your bodies move in sync. He hits that soft spot inside of you, and you cry out, his name falling off your lips over and over like a mantra. 

“Yeo, oh my god,” you whimper, “fuck, I’m gonna —“ 

A loud crash startles you from your sleep, pulling you from your delicious dream. The soft morning light creeps through the blinds of your shared bedroom, casting gentle stripes across your duvet. The city outside is still quiet as you try to shake the heat from your system, Yeosang’s cold empty side of the bed helping bring you back to reality. You let out a slow breath, stretching your tired muscles, trying to jumpstart your body, ignoring the wetness that had begun to pool in your sleep shorts thanks to your subconscious. You roll over to face your nightstand, squinting at the clock — 9:15 AM. Yeosang always wakes up earlier than you, and sleeping this late is out of the question, unless he’s on his deathbed with a cold. 

You untangle from the sheets, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to stretch, letting your feet rest on the sun-warmed wooden floor. The morning light shines bright through your window, the warmth melting into your skin. You hear rustling in the kitchen, and realize the sound that startled you awake must have something to do with your boyfriend making you both breakfast, like he does every Sunday. 

Dragging yourself out of bed, you throw a fuzzy cardigan over the tank top you slept in, to match your shorts. Yeosang always gifts you sets of loungewear, because he knows how happy it makes you to laze around the house in something cute. You make your way down the hallway, the warm smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafting around you the closer you get to the kitchen. You round the corner to see your boyfriend bent over the sink, washing dishes from last night’s dinner. A fresh pan of cinnamon rolls sits on the counter next to him. Your favorite.

“Good morning, Sangie,” you softly say from the doorway, so as not to startle him. He peaks over his shoulder at you briefly before turning the water off, a breathtaking smile consuming his features. His gray sweatpants hug his slender hips, and the tight black tank top he’s sporting gives you an unobstructed view of his broad shoulders and strong arms. God, he looks good.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he coos, his deep voice still raspy from sleep. He quickly dries his hands on a dish towel before discarding it on the counter and making his way over to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a warm hug, his familiar scent enveloping you. His fingers rub absentminded circles on your skin as he holds you, his hot touch reminding you what you were dreaming about before you were jolted from your sleep. You feel your cheeks warm, thinking about how, in your mind, he was inside of you moments ago. 

“Did I wake you? I tried to wash everything quietly, but the pan we used last night slipped and I banged it on the counter,” he kisses your forehead, the lingering warmth of his breath working you up even more. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you pull back to kiss his nose, trying to shake the heat from your body. “I needed to get up anyway. I missed you.” You wonder if he can tell how hot and bothered you are. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and when you’re needy, he picks up on it right away. 

“Yeah? Were you dreaming about me?” He squeezes your hips before releasing you, picking the dish towel up and walking back to the sink to hang it up.

“No,” you blush, sensing he already knows the answer. He chuckles darkly, leaning back on the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“If those pretty little moans I heard coming from our bedroom are any indication, I’m gonna have to call you a liar, baby,” he smirks at you as your soft smile falls from your face. “Wanna try to answer truthfully this time?” The tone of his voice has shifted from the sweet, doting boyfriend he was moments ago, the version of him you only see in the bedroom starting to crack through the surface.

“Y-Yeo, I—“ you stumble over your words. Of course you gave yourself away, how embarrassing. Your face feels like it’s on fire. 

“What was I doing, hm?” Yeosang prowls toward you slowly, a strand of his dark hair floating down onto his forehead. “Tasting you? Fingering you? Fucking you?” He stops in his tracks, waiting for your answer. 

The words coming out of his mouth have your mind reeling, a pit of pleasure settling in your belly. You let your cardigan fall from your shoulder, suddenly aware of how his hungry eyes are raking over your body. 

“Fucking me,” you barely recognize the sound of your voice, breathless and desperate, “you were fucking me,” 

“Mmm,” his deep voice sounds like honey, “and how was it, hm? Did I let you come?” He creeps closer to you, only a few steps away. 

“I-I woke up, before I could,” you start, trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“Oh, jagiya,” he finally closes the distance between the two of you, slowly wrapping one arm around your body, his hand snaking down to cup your ass. “You must be so pent up, my love.” His other hand comes up to your neck, brushing your hair away to ghost his lips over your bare shoulder. He trails featherlight kisses up your shoulder, to your neck, settling right by your ear. “Do you want me to help you with that?” His deep voice whispering over your sensitive skin… he knows what that does to you. 

You’re nodding before your voice catches up. “Yes, Sangie, please,” you whisper, bracing yourself on Yeosang’s shoulders as he nips at your neck. He nods at your pleading, willing as always to take care of you.  

“Should I bring you to bed, or take you here first?” He bites down on your shoulder, growling into your skin. 

You whimper at the sensation, “now, Yeo please, I need you to touch me now,” your hands float up to his hair, lacing through his dark locks. 

“Mm,” he tuts, “what if I want to do both?” He pulls away from you to look into your eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. He brings a hand to your chin, thumbing your bottom lip. You open your mouth for him instinctively, and he hooks his thumb on your bottom teeth, tilting your head up at him. “Why don’t I make you come once here, and then I’ll take you to bed and fuck you back to sleep.” 

You nod as you close your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around it, drawing a deep groan up his throat. 

He moves quickly, popping his thumb out of your mouth to plant his hands on your hips. The room around you spins, and suddenly your back is pressed up against him. He wraps an arm around your stomach and brings his other hand to your throat, caging you in his grip. You feel his hardness pressing into your ass as he rolls his hips into you. You whimper, leaning into him, chasing every little touch he’s willing to give you. 

“What does my baby want?” He whispers in your ear, tightening his hand on your throat and sliding his other down to ghost his fingers under the band of your shorts, “should I bend you over the counter and have you come around my fingers? Or should I put you on the counter and fuck you with my tongue?” He squeezes the sides of your neck gently, just enough to make your head spin. 

“F-fingers,” you choke out, rolling your ass over him. 

He shoves you forward, into the counter, the hard marble digging into your hips as he moves his hand from your stomach to the middle of your back to push your torso over the countertop. You brace yourself, planting your hands on either side of your head, and he releases your throat to grip your hair, tipping your head to the side and squishing your cheek into the cold surface. 

“Don’t tell me you’re so fucking cock hungry that you forgot your manners,” he scolds you, ripping your sleep shorts down with one hand and smacking your ass with a loud crack. 

“Ah-! Fuck,” you cry out, the pain warming you from the inside out, a rush of arousal flooding your center. “Please, I want your fingers Sangie, please,”

”Good fucking girl,” he coos, “and no panties, huh?” He pulls his hands from you and takes a step back, leaving you bent over the counter with an angry red handprint blooming on your naked ass. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this, fucking hell,” he runs a hand through his hair as he admires you. 

You know he’s teasing you by not touching you right away, so you take it upon yourself to kick your shorts to the side and prop one shaking leg up on the counter, presenting yourself to him. 

“Mmm, you’re practically dripping, jagi,” he zeroes in on your center, “you must’ve been really close in that little dream of yours, hm?” 

Before you can formulate a snarky reply, he’s behind you, plunging two fingers deep inside of you, using his free hand to grip your hip and hold you in place. You stammer out a curse at the sensation, your mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as he stretches you out. He immediately finds that tender spot inside of you, pressing the pads of his fingers against it over and over and over. 

“Yeo, oh my god,” you whimper, that familiar pit of warmth settling in your stomach. 

“Already squeezing around my fingers like you’re gonna come? I’ve barely touched you,” he teases you, his mean, dominant facade slipping into place. 

“F-feels so good Sangie, can’t help it, mmhn,” you’re practically drooling on the counter as he pistons his fingers in and out, reaching deep inside of you. 

He pulls his fingers from your center, bringing his hand down hard on your ass again. You cry out against the marble, tears blurring your vision as his fingers find your swollen clit. Your knee almost buckles underneath you as he expertly swirls around it, so familiar with your body, but he holds you up with a firm hand on your hip. 

“You wanna come, baby? Hm?” He quickens his pace, dipping his fingers inside of you to gather more of your arousal. 

“Yes, please,” you whimper. 

“Then come.” He almost sounds bored as he applies just the right amount of pressure to make you crumble in his hold, holding you steady as your body shakes. 

“T-thank you,” you cry out, your climax washing over you, wiping out all your strength. 

“So good for me,” Yeosang whispers, holding you in place, letting your body go limp over the countertop. He rubs both thumbs into the small of your back, letting you come down for a few quiet beats before bringing you back to the moment. 

“Color?” He quietly asks, the tone of his voice softening for a moment as he turns his attention to your hips, softly massaging your joints. 

“Green, very much green,” you sigh between breaths.

“Then come on, pretty girl,” he growls from behind you, pulling his hands from your body and taking a few slow steps backwards, “you want me to fuck you, don’t you?” 

You push yourself up on the counter, slowly lowering your trembling leg to the floor. 

“Yes, please Yeo,” you turn to face him, leaning back on the sturdy surface behind you, your brain still fuzzy and your hearing a bit muffled. His fingers are glistening with your arousal, the outline of his cock pressing against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. Your core pulses at the sight. 

“Then let’s go,” he beckons you, taking a few more steps backwards toward your shared bedroom, fire simmering behind his eyes.

You follow his lead, your unsteady legs carrying you a few steps before your boyfriend raises a hand up to stop you. 

“Nuh-uh,” he scolds you, shaking his head. 

You tilt your head at him in question, the teasing lilt in his voice making you dizzy as you realize what you’re in for. So he’s in this kind of mood. 

“Crawl.” 

Dropping to your knees without a second thought, a gasp leaves your lips as you hit the floor, the deep growl in his command making your body react instantly. 

“Good girl.“ His cock twitches in his sweatpants. “Now, you can follow me.” He smirks at you as you lower your hands to the floor, and you feel thankful that the warm sun flooding through your kitchen windows has heated the floorboards. 

You keep your eyes locked on his while you follow him on all fours, making sure to exaggerate the sway of your hips and the arch of your back as you crawl.

“Well, don’t you look so pretty on your hands and knees for me, hm? Obedient little slut.” 

Heat spreads across your cheeks at the emphasis on his last word, knowing he’s only saying it because he knows how much you love it.

He walks backwards the whole way to your shared bedroom, power radiating from him in the way he carries himself, his dark eyes trained on you as you crawl for him. His mouth hangs open as he watches you, and you can tell he’s testing his own self control. You follow him over the threshold, watching him as the backs of his knees hit the mattress, dropping down onto the edge of your bed. He spreads his legs wide, leaning back as he tilts his head to the side while he contemplates his next move. 

“Come,” he pats the mattress between his thighs, and you crawl forward to the edge of the bed, kneeling between his legs, looking up at him through your lashes. He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your head back. 

“As much as I’d love to have you falling apart around my cock in the next few minutes, I haven’t gotten a taste of you yet.” 

“O-oh,” his words warm your center, the way he’s looking down at you only making you feel more desperate for his touch. 

“Normally I’d make you earn it, but after listening to your slutty fucking moans all morning I don’t think I can wait any longer,” he wraps his hand around your throat again, squeezing firmly before guiding you up to your feet, standing along with you. He flicks at the shoulder of your cardigan with his free hand. “Off,” he demands. You shimmy out of it instantly, letting it drop to the floor and pool around your feet. 

“Give me your color,” he whispers, his grip on your throat loosening.

“Still very green, my love,” you smirk at him as he nods, squeezing tighter again. 

“So pretty with my hand around your neck,”  he praises you, your head spinning as you work to inhale. “I can’t, fuck,” he lets his resolve crack, crashing his lips into yours.

He kisses you hard, fingers carding through your hair as he parts your lips with his tongue. “I’ll take my time with you later,” he mumbles against your mouth, swiping his tongue over yours. You kiss each other like you’ve been apart for weeks; desperate pawing, panting, whining. 

“Lay down,” he orders you, groaning at the string of saliva connecting your mouths as he pulls away from you. He holds your waist as he spins the both of you around, putting you at the foot of the bed before pushing you onto the mattress. You catch yourself on your elbows, scooting back as he crawls on top of you, sloppily kissing you the whole way, moving together until you’re settled in the pillows against the headboard. 

He kisses you from your lips, up to the hinge of your jaw, down the column of your neck. You lay back against the pillows, so familiar with the way he loves to map your body with his mouth. He spreads your legs with his knees, splaying you open wide for him, your bare cunt clenching around nothing at the sudden exposure. 

He kisses down to your chest as his hands run up your thighs, bypassing your aching core to run up your stomach, one hand dipping beneath your tank top to palm your breast. You gasp at the sensation of his calloused hand kneading your supple flesh, a whine escaping as he runs a thumb over your nipple. He pulls your tank top up with his free hand, exposing your breasts to the cool air. 

“Sangie,” you thread your fingers through his hair as he kisses down the valley between your breasts, tightening your grip when he catches one of your nipples between his teeth. “Fuck,” you whisper, looking down at him as he flicks his tongue over it. His eyes meet yours briefly before they roll back as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. 

“Baby,” you whine, the feeling of his mouth on you making your head spin. “I need you,” 

“Mhm,” his mouth pops off of you briefly before his teeth graze over the top of one of your breasts, the sensation dissolving into pleasurable pain as he bites down. 

“Ah!” You yelp as his teeth scrape over your skin, panting as he soothes the bite with his tongue, sucking with the intention to leave a mark. 

“You forgot your manners again, pretty girl,” he bites you again, on your stomach this time, and you glance down to see the first mark blooming with shades of red and purple as he paints another. 

“Fuck, I—“ your voice catches in your throat at the third bite, lower on your stomach, inching closer to where you need him. ”Please Yeo, I need it,” 

“Need what, hm? Use your words,” the next bite is harder than the last, and it has you squirming, desperately pushing your hips into him as his teeth dig into the inside of your thigh. 

“Your mouth, please, please,” you rock your hips against nothing, your boyfriend keeping his distance to encourage more of your delicious whining. 

“You sound so pretty when you beg, my little whore,” he spreads your legs wide, fingers splayed across the insides of your thighs. He watches your cunt clench at the word, smirking to himself before spitting directly on your heat. 

“Oh,” you feel his warm saliva slide from your clit to your entrance, the sensation making you squirm underneath him. “Sangie, please,” 

“Mhm,” he finally settles between your legs, threading his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth. 

He licks the blooming purple bite on your thigh, trailing wet kisses up, closer and closer, pressing one last kiss before finally spreading you open with his tongue. Your back arches instantly, leaning into his mouth. He licks you from your entrance up to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. 

“Fuck,” you whine, gripping his hair, holding him against you. He laps at you, flicking the firm point of his tongue over your swollen clit over and over. 

“Mmm,” he growls against you, the vibrations drawing a whimper up your throat. He eats you like a man starved, as he always does, digging his fingers into your hips and caging you in against his mouth. 

“So good, Sangie, ah–�� you yelp as his teeth scrape against your clit, a low chuckle vibrating through you at your reaction. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth, one hand loosening its grip on your hip to weave around to your throbbing entrance. 

You feel two fingers inching up the inside of your thigh, the light touch prickling goosebumps across your skin. The moment you look down at him, he pops his mouth off of you, briefly sucking his fingers into his mouth, your arousal shining on his chin. His dark eyes don’t leave yours as he guides his fingers to your center, teasingly running them through your wetness before plunging them deep inside you. 

“Ah!” You cry out at the sudden sensation, deep arousal coursing through your body as you watch your boyfriend rut against the mattress in time with the thrust of his fingers. He finds that tender spot inside of you easily, hitting it with each pump.

“So tight, are you sure you’ll be able to take me? Hm?” He scissors his fingers inside of you, the sound of how wet you are making his cock twitch in his sweatpants. “Gonna stretch you open so I can stuff you fucking full,” you whine at his words, his dirty mouth driving you mad. “My pretty little cocksleeve, made for me,” 

“I can take you,” you nod, watching him add a third finger, the stretch stinging at first but quickly dissolving into pleasure. “I can, I can,” you repeat, “m-made for you Sangie, I was–” your words evaporate into thin air as he sucks your clit into his mouth again, rolling his tongue over and over. 

You feel your orgasm quickly approaching, warmth rushing to your center. You roll your hips on his mouth, holding him against you, hoping he’ll let you get there. He must sense you trying to take control, slowing his fingers slightly. Feeling your orgasm fading away, you whine, struggling to push your hips harder onto his fingers. He chuckles against you before pulling away completely. 

“Fuck!” You cry out in frustration, “what the fuck,” 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he scolds you, pushing up onto his knees between your legs, a dark patch spreading on his sweatpants where the head of his leaking cock presses against the fabric. “Trying to come without my permission, and you think you can speak to me like that?” You feel your cheeks reddening as you realize what you did, your eyes widening at the hard set of his jaw. He’s pissed. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, tilting his head to one side until his neck cracks. 

“Flip over.” 

You’re frozen, propped up on your elbows staring at him, mouth hanging open. “W-what? I–” 

“Did I stutter? Flip the fuck over. Ass up. Now.” 

You scramble to roll onto your stomach, pushing up onto your hands and knees. “I didn’t mean to, Yeo, I’m s-sorry,” your cunt is throbbing in anticipation as you spread your thighs wide, dropping onto your elbows just how you know he wants you. 

“I’m sure you didn’t, greedy girl,” you hear shuffling behind you, feeling him getting closer to you, but not yet touching you. “How many, hm? Five?” You feel fingers ghosting across the middle of your back, trailing slowly down your spine. “Ten?” You shiver, knowing you can take ten but desperately wanting him inside of you sooner than that. 

“You’re lucky my cock is fucking aching right now or I’d do fifteen,” he growls, “how about five, hm?” His hand glides over the swell of your ass, and you have to stop yourself from leaning into his touch.

“Five,” you confirm, settling into the pillows beneath you.

“Five it is.” His hand disappears and your breath hitches in your throat. “Count.” A crack rings through the room as he spanks you hard, the warmth of the sting rushing straight to your core. 

“One,” you cry out, breath heaving. 

“Good.” Another spank, a little harder than the last. 

“Two,” your pussy clenches at the burn, and you can already feel the skin of your ass turning red. 

He doesn’t warn you before spanking you a third time, but he lets his hand linger to soothe your angry skin for a moment. 

“Three,” 

Another. 

“Four,” your voice cracks, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Color?” Your boyfriend asks from behind you, a hint of worry in his voice. 

“Green, I can do it, one more,” your words rush out, wanting to let him know you’re okay. 

“One more,” he confirms, bringing his hand down one last time, keeping it there to massage your sore skin. 

“Five,” you sob into the pillow, finally leaning into his touch, letting him guide your hips down to the mattress. 

“You did so well, pretty,” he leans over you, kissing you behind your ear as he brushes your hair to the side. “My good girl,” 

“Please, baby, I want you,” each hard smack on your ass only made you more and more desperate for your boyfriend. You know he wants to take care of you, check in, make sure you’re okay, but you need him badly. You roll over onto your back, and he hovers over you, only softness and concern in his eyes now. You open your legs, pulling him between them, his hardness resting against your core through his sweatpants.

“I’m okay, please Sangie,” you reach for him, cupping his cheek in your palm, wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck, tugging him closer. 

“Jagi,” he whispers, “are you sure?” He kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger a moment before pulling back to look at you.

“Mhm,” you nod, your hand trailing down to the hem of his tank top. He lets you pull it up slightly before helping you take it off completely. His skin glows under the sunlight streaming through your windows, casting gentle shadows to emphasize each one of his muscles. You pull your own top off over your head too, fully bare for him. You roll your hips against his clothed cock, drawing a groan up his throat.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he drinks you in, admiring your soft form. All dominance has faded from his mannerisms, loving and sheer want taking over. 

“Kiss me,” you reach for him, and he meets you halfway to press his lips to yours. His need for you takes over, and he licks into your mouth as he rushes to pull his sweatpants and boxer briefs down. His length bumps against your heat, Yeosang hissing at the feeling, rocking against you as he kicks his pants off completely. 

He breaks the kiss to kneel between your legs, fisting his angry, leaking cock. He pumps himself twice as he adjusts his positioning, running the tip of his cock through your arousal. “Ready?” He asks, nudging at your aching entrance. 

You nod, reaching for him. He leans over you, letting out a shuddering breath as he pushes into you, filling you in one swift thrust. You moan at the feeling, the sound swallowed by his mouth against yours. He pulls out to the tip as he glides his tongue over your bottom lip, then slams into you.

“Shit,” you mumble against his lips, licking into his mouth. He meets your kisses hungrily, tangling his tongue with yours as he moves his hips, slowly at first, then pumping into you with a slow and steady rhythm. 

You wrap your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back as he picks up the pace, hitting deeper with each thrust, but not quite deep enough. 

“Harder, Yeo,” you break the kiss to ask, “need you deeper,” 

He chuckles darkly, knowing just how to get the angle you need. He straightens, staying inside of you as he lifts your hips with ease, keeping you suspended in a solid grip as he guides your hips to meet his thrusts, instantly hitting your g-spot. 

“Fuck, yes,” you cry out, letting him masterfully handle your body, bumping against that sensitive spot over and over. 

“So pretty taking my cock,” he praises you, fucking into you impossibly hard, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. “I love you so fucking much, my good girl,” 

“I love you,” you pant, getting closer and closer to the edge as he fucks into you, but you want to take care of him first. “W-wanna ride you, Sangie,” he slows down at your proposal. 

“You sure?” He knows your body must be spent, but you’re determined. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you whine, “please?”

“I can’t say no to those eyes,” he grins.

He pulls out of you to roll you on top of him, easily maneuvering your body until you’re straddling him, his head nestled in the pillows. He lays back, eyes twinkling as he waits for you to take over. 

You reach for his cock, wrapping your fingers around it, his eyes rolling back as you slowly pump him. “Mm,” he moans at the feeling, resting his hands on your thighs as you adjust to line him up with your entrance. His fingers dig into your thighs as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping as your clit grazes his skin once he’s fully seated inside of you. 

“Fuck, jagiya,” he runs his hands up your thighs and around your hips to hold you still for a moment. “Be gentle with me, I don’t want this to be over too soon,” he chuckles. 

“We have all day, baby,” you lift your hips slightly despite his firm grip on you, but he doesn’t stop you. You drop back down, drawing another beautiful moan from his lips. His grip loosens as he gives in to you, and you start bouncing your hips, his cock reaching deep inside you. You plant your hands in the middle of his chest as you find your rhythm. 

He watches you with lidded eyes, his jaw hanging open as you take what you need. He reaches a hand up to palm your breast, your head falling back as he thumbs your nipple. It doesn’t take long for your climax to start building, his thumb on your nipple and your clit rocking against him bringing you right back to the precipice. 

You know he’s close too, his breathing turning shallow and his grip tightening on your hips. 

“Come here,” he wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down to kiss him. 

The new angle gives him space to plant his feet on the mattress and roll his hips up into you, matching your rhythm. 

“Need to fill you up,” he pants, 

“Yes, please,” you squeeze around him, feeling him twitch inside of you. Warmth spreads throughout your body as you inch closer and closer to release, each rock of your clit against him pushing you there. 

“Come with me,” he commands you, your body tensing in his grasp as it washes over you. He fucks up into you twice more before he stills, spilling hot inside of you, groaning into your mouth. He lowers his hips slowly, guiding yours with him, staying inside of you, letting you collapse against his chest. 

You both struggle to catch your breath, holding each other close while you come down. He strokes your hair, and you let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, listening to the slowing beat of his heart.

“Wanna get more comfortable?” He asks, and you laugh, suddenly aware of how sore your hips are feeling, and the stinging lingering on your ass from your earlier punishments.

“Mhm,” you let him lift you off of him, guiding your pliant form onto your bed. He rolls you onto your belly, settling behind you to massage your hips. He rubs gentle circles into your skin, the soreness and tension in your tired muscles melting away under his skilled hands. 

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he softly says as he hops up to wiggle back into his sweatpants, “I want to get something to clean you up, I’ll just be a minute.” He kisses your forehead before padding out of the room. You stretch your tired limbs, listening to the rustling and sounds of running water from down the hallway. 

A moment later, Yeosang comes back into the room, his arms full of various things for you. He plugs in your heating pad, letting it warm up as he wipes his release from your inner thighs with a warm towel. You watch him as he bustles around the room, setting water and Tylenol on your nightstand and fluffing up your pillow for you. He grabs you a clean pair of underwear and one of your big sleep shirts, gently helping you dress, peppering you with kisses all the while. 

You snuggle up facing his side of the bed, letting him cover you with a blanket and lay your heating pad over your lower back. He finally slides under the blanket with you, and you lay your head on his chest, throwing one leg over him, effectively caging him in. He chuckles at your clinginess. 

“How’re you feeling?” He whispers, peppering kisses along your hairline. 

“Perfect,” you nuzzle into him, and he rests his chin on top of your head. 

“That wasn’t too much?” 

“Of course not,” you assure him. “If it was, I would’ve told you to stop.” 

He nods, accepting your response, wrapping an arm around your waist. You lay together in comfortable silence for a moment. You feel yourself starting to drift off, until his voice cuts through.

“Baby?” Yeosang says, a note of hesitance in his tone. 

“Hm?” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers, squeezing your waist. 

“Of course,” you respond, rubbing a finger over a freckle on his chest. 

“I dropped that pan on purpose.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he confesses to you. 

“Kang Yeosang!” You scold him through your laughter, lightly smacking his chest. You prop yourself up to look at him, and he sheepishly smiles back at you.

“Sorry!” He apologizes half-heartedly, “I didn’t want you having all the fun without me.” 

“Well next time,” you inch closer to him, “why don’t you wake me up with your mouth instead,” you brush your lips over his as his arm tightens around your waist. 

”You don’t have to ask me twice,” he kicks the blanket off of you to roll you onto your back, crawling on top of you, swallowing your giddy giggles as he kisses you. He spreads your legs with his knees, dropping gentle kisses down your jawline. You quickly pull your heating pad out from under you and toss it on the floor. 

“Quick,” he whispers, “pretend to be asleep.” You close your eyes as he slides down your body, settling between your legs once again, and you realize you’ll definitely be in bed for the rest of the day. 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

hope u enjoyed (: xo

[mandukkul]

the grinch that stole my… pants? — n.rk

synopsis: ni'ki's been losing his clothes; wonder who the culprit is??

tags: bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship, crack, humour, no mention of "y/n" (ni-ki calls you sweet girl because thats a nickname ive been hyperfixating on!)

warning: none

wordcount: 1.4k

likes + comments appreciated

authors note: LOL SORRY FOR DIPPING FOR AWHILE! but i was insanely inspired… while in the train so i wrote this little scenario!! enjoy! inspired by this sakusa fic! check it out and support this author!!! enjoy!!!

Ni-ki, in all his teen-hood, would have never guessed that he'd find himself in this predicament.

After a long day of work, Ni-ki expected to come home to see you for your bi-weekly sleepover. He had been anticipating this moment since the second he awoke early that morning. Sending his obligatory “morning stink” text, waiting for some feral response from you (it was a photo of his own feet, in which he wonders when you took them). Making a mental itinerary of what the two of you would be doing that night; take out, a movie, face masks, gossip, make out (if the cards were in his favour).

But he wouldn’t have guessed catching you mid sneak out his room, dressed in his hoodie, sweatpants, somehow mismatched socks (did you pull out him apart??) and slides— all his. As if getting caught red handed (you were), you straighten up, humouring the idea that your full height would rival his 6 foot thousand stature.

“What're you doing?” Ni-ki interrogates, eyebrow raised skeptically as fixes his stance to block the hallway. “Nothing! I wasn't doing anything, my Ni-ki tingle went off and i wanted to surprise you” you chirp, clearly acting suspicious, as you skip towards him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“I missed you!!’ you squeeze and gently rock side to side, and Ni-ki can't help but relax in your hold, embracing you gently back. “Me too, Sweet girl” he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Too lost in the moment, Ni-ki doesnt realise that your rocking was clearly deliberate, slowly maneuvering the two of you around so that he was on the inner facing side of the hallway and you had easy access out the hallway.

Ni-ki doesn’t realise this move until you pull away, faux innocence plastered on your face in which he clocks almost immediately.

To anyone else, Ni-ki’s grasps onto your biceps seem caring and gentle, but to the keen eye; the glint in his eye says otherwise, as does the whitening of his knuckles.

“My room's this way” Ni-ki says, and it sounds more like a command than a statement. You laugh, but there’s no humour in your tone, as you try to pull away. “Just wanna get some snacks from my car. You know, before they go bad.” you try your best to excuse but Ni-ki, being your loving boyfriend, can read right through you.

“We have plenty here in the dorms”

“Not the ones i got”

“Your favourite ones are here”

“They're not my favourites anymore”

You and Ni-ki battle it out, with an intense staring contest, waiting for the other to react first.

“Why are you having a standoff in the hallway” Suddenly, Jake’s voice breaks the tension between the two, as does it snap Ni-ki’s attention which is just enough time for you to dash away towards the door.

Curse you, Jake!

Ni-ki chases you like Tom the cat, but clearly you’re a very good Jerry because you seem to evade him easily.

“Come back you thief!” You and Ni-ki are rounding the table. “I won’t stand for these silly allegations!” you take a step to the right only for Ni-ki to mirror and block you.

“Everytime you walk out with my clothes i never see them again!”

“Well these are mine! so you won’t see them regardless”

“THEY DON'T EVEN FIT YOU!” Ni-ki exasperates and your facade falls apart as you immediately confess, “OKAY? SO WHAT!”

Your lips stretch into a mischievous smile as Ni-ki chuckles at your statement, “So I want my clothes to stay with me” he states as he reaches over to grasp you, Only for you to take a step back.

“You love your clothes more than me!” you accuse, “yeah, I do!” he counters and you gasp, offended.

How dare he!

“Take that back!” you whine, and he can envision you stamping your foot into the ground.

“No way! give my clothes back!”

“Do you want me to walk around naked?!”

“I’m not opposed to the idea”

“Who cares! i look better in them anyways” you declare, angrily huffing.

Obviously, Ni-ki agrees, you look cute in everything you wear, be it a garbage bag to a fancy dress, especially if it’s his clothes. but it’s about the principle!!

“You have your own clothes!”

“Your clothes always look better than mine!”

“Of course they do, I have better style”

You audibly scoff at this, which sets your defences down for a split second but that was enough for Ni-ki to catch you. He steps around the table and reaches out with his long eagle-wingspan he calls his arms and wraps them around your torso, picking you up like a sack of potatoes.

You relent, giggles filling the room as you slump over his shoulder as if you lost all your bones in your body. Ni-ki’s heart fills with so much euphoria listening to you laugh that he almost forgets about the little thief he calls a girlfriend.

Ni-ki huffs as he starts to walk back to his bedroom, not missing the judging eyes of his group mates as he walks by, probably wondering what the heck was going on.

As he opens the door to his room, Ni-ki speaks up, breaking the silence, “you do look better”.

You perk up, all your bones coming back to your body, “huh?”

Unceremoniously, Ni-ki drops you into his bed, frazzling you a bit. “In my clothes, you do look better” he elaborates as he crawls on top of you, settling his head on your sternum.

you let out a soft giggle and he can feel your chest vibrate softly from it, “I think you’d look better in my clothes as well”. Ni-ki pulls away from your chest, just to stare incredulously into your eyes that hold nothing but mischievous. Wrapping his arms around your body he squeezes lightly and sighs.

“Whatever” he relents, but Ni-ki can’t help but grin widely like the silly loverboy he is.

epilouge

“i didn’t have snacks in my car”

“i know, Sweet girl”

“these are still my favourite”

“i know, go to sleep now”

“you love me more than your clothes, right?”

“i love you more than anything, Sweet girl”

“i love you too, Riks”

author's note pt.2 : EDITED!! including pictures and proofread to the best of my abilities. I WANTED TO TRY SOMETHING NEW but i cant so im adding in the cute photos like i always do

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you deserve better.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, size kink, skinny dipping, angsty, kinda asshole/grumpy Joel, mention of alcohol

Celia's note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG. but i threw in that much request angst i hope yall enjoy!!!!! Also happy valentines day!!! peace n luv fr

Aint Right part 1 Ain't Right part 2

Recently, life has been great for you.

Winter was gone as fast as it came, and spring started to take root in Jackson. Your favorite season.

The months that passed since Christmas had been like a dream. You and Joel's relationship had been all unicorns and rainbows—well, to you, anyway.

Finally, you were starting to pry open the gates to Joel's thoughts. Becoming close with him meant so much to you, even when he would off-handedly share information about himself by accident, you'd immediately commit it to long-term memory.

He didn't like to talk about himself much, but when he did, you were all ears.

Joel, on the other hand, didn't have to try as hard with you.

There was a constant flow of words out of your mouth, especially around him. You couldn't help it, really. You talked when you were nervous, and you were always nervous around Joel—that never went away.

But all in all, you were overflowing with happiness.

Joel, however, was feeling a little differently.

Ever since this relationship with you started, he's had this subtle ache about it.

His insecurities of being an old man were eating at him, day by day. His conscious just couldn't stop pestering him with the idea that you deserved better.

He felt that by being intimate with you, as much as he liked it, was holding you back from living your life.

By allowing you to indulge in this relationship with him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was setting your life up for failure.

He was picturing some White Fang situation where you were some wild animal that was getting too close to him, and in order to prevent you from getting hurt by domestication, he'd have to throw rocks at you and tell you to 'go on an' git'. Even though he deeply cared about you.

These insecurites really came to the surface whenever you two were in bed together.

He was 56 years old, for crying out loud. He had two rounds in him max, anything more might give him a heart attack.

He'd clock the little disappointed pout you'd make when he couldn't go again, even when you tried to act otherwise. He was just in his head about the entire thing—which was so unlike him.

You were doin' things to him, thats for damn sure.

Joel couldn't deny the affect you had on him anymore. You were starting to become a top priority; he was unable to stop himself from putting you first.

How was it so easy for you to become to important in his life?

He pondered this thought while coming back from a supply run, riding in on horseback. The sound of hooves crunching twigs and rocks was an oddly theraputic sound, one that helped stop him from thinking so much.

Upon his return, Joel drops off his supplies and guides his horse back into its stable. He gives it a few loving pats before leaving, walking down the main road with the breeze in his hair.

His eyes scan the people crowding the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite face.

And he does.

Eventually, Joel spots you, helping an older lady up her porch steps. You’re smiling, eyes sparkling like everything in the world was all fine and dandy.

It never got easier seeing you wear cooler clothes in public.

Sure, he's seen your naked body plenty of times, but there was something about you in a tank top, jean shorts and cowboy boots that just did things to him.

His heart tugs in his chest as he watches you complete the kind act, skipping back down the steps once the lady waves you goodbye.

That’s when you see him, across the street, just staring at you.

Your face lights up like fireworks when you notice. It always did. But Joel never got tired of seeing it.

He watches you jog his way, nearly running straight into him but managing to stop yourself last second.

“Hey! How’d that run go?” You ask, beaming up at him and trying your hardest not to smack his lips with yours.

“Good.” He nods, clenching his jaw.

Jesus, you looked so good right now—Joel was having a very hard time focusing on what to say when you were distracting him with your bangin’ bod.

“Good.” You copy, finding a moment to assess him. He seemed tense, more tense than usual. Joel knows you’re about to ask him what’s wrong—and he can’t face that question right now.

So he speaks before he knows what he’s saying. “You should come out with me again, next time, I mean. Actually try n' help instead of.. flirt.”

He's disgusing his intense feelings for you with an insult, because of course he is.

You scoff at his diss, rolling your eyes. “You loved my flirtin’.” You copied his texan drawl to mock him, earning you a glare.

“Well, I’d love to. Is it a date?” You purr, stepping into his personal space, prompting Joel to make quick use of his self control.

If he could act on his impulse, he would have bent you over and fucked you right there on the sidewalk.

He clears his throat before nodding. “Sure. Tomorrow. It’s a date.” He bites out like it pains him, because in truth, he'd rather take you out to dinner or something than another stupid supply run.

You’re smiling again, swaying on your feet. You make a few glances around to make sure no one’s watching before popping up and kissing him on his cheek.

“Kay, see you then." You chirp ever so sweetly, walking away in your small jean shorts.

You were really tugging on his heart strings.

When tomorrow comes, you're sitting on your porch swing, waiting for Joel to come and get you.

You were excited—mainly because you two would be out of sight from prying eyes. You could act on all your impulses.

You didn't mind people figuring you two out, you're kind of sure they already had, but you felt that Joel did care, and you wanted to respect his boundaires. Even though he never made those clear.

But, you felt you were pushing it with that kiss on the cheek yesterday, and you didn't want him upset with you.

The sudden thought made you worry.

Maybe he was upset with you. He did glare at you yesterday.

You probably did something, your anxious mind tells you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts due to the sound of hooves clopping against the road. Looking up, you're met with the pleasure-inducing sight of Joel.

He's walking with a horse beside him, holding its lead with a trained hand.

He's wearing that faded gray shirt and those jeans that seem like they're hanging on by a thread. So casual.

But, then you take a closer look at his appearance. He...trimmed his beard and attempted to slick back his hair...?

...Was he trying to look nice for you?

"Did you get all pretty for me?" You ask with a giddy smile, skipping down your steps.

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath before rolling his eyes. Yet, you swear you can see the faintest bit of blush on his cheeks. "You ready to go?" He asks, gesturing to the horse.

He's trying to change the subject, but you need to let him know you appreciate his efforts.

"You look really good, Joel. I mean—you always look good, but today especially." You bring your hand up to feel his hair, smiling happily. He can tell you're being geniune, but he's never been good with compliments.

"Thanks, sweetheart—now get on the damn horse." He sounds exasperated, but theres a small smile on his lips.

He helps you up onto the back before climbing on himself. "Wrap yer arms 'round me. Don't fall off." He murmurs, steering the horse towards the gates.

You slide up so that your chest is pressed against his back, and outstretch your arms to wrap around him. Once you two successfully leave the town and no one is watching, that's when you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade.

It's cozy. It's intimate. It's Joel.

You could fall asleep against him like this.

He remains silent because he knows how peaceful you feel right now. He wants to let you enjoy the moment.

You're admiring the forest scenary, occasionally resting your eyes. You don't know where Joel is taking you—maybe he's heading straight towards the middle of nowhere to drop you off and leave. Getting rid of you probably would've been in his best interest.

You're smiling at the thought because you know yourself. Even if he did do that, you'd find a way back to him. Like a loyal dog.

"Wait," Your voice cracks through the silence. Joel stops the horse, turning his head back to look at you. "Is that a lake?" He turns his head to where you're looking, his eyes catching the blue water that you're so enamoured by.

"Don't know what else it would be."

You roll your eyes at his smartassary. "...Can we go?"

"To the lake?" He reiterates, a confused look on his face. "'N do what?"

You shrug your shoulders, feeling stupid for asking all the sudden.

Immediately, Joel notices how you shrink into yourself. He wants to punch himself in the dick because he's being an asshole.

To fix his mistake, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and steers the horse down to the body of water.

You're giddy again in no time, a soft but excited squeal escaping your throat.

He manages to find a small clearing within the brush; open tall grass, a fallen tree trunk perfect for sitting, and direct access to the lake.

"So pretty." You muse, simply in awe of the nature around you.

You didn't really leave town much—only when you had to. So, seeing stuff like this, really meant a lot to you.

Joel gets off the horse and immediately turns to help you down. His hands find themselves on your hips while yours latch onto his shoulders.

He lowers you effortlessly, his grasp lingering for longer than it needed to.

Your skin lights on fire at his touch, dirty thoughts instantly flooding your brain.

The lake, the seculsion, the tension...there was really only one thing you were thinking about right now.

"Hey, what if we just...didn't go on that supply run?" You muse, avoiding eye contact for a moment because no matter how close you've gotten with Joel, he still made you nervous.

He shoots you a questioning look, which gives you the idea to show rather than tell.

You step closer to the waters edge, beginning to take off your boots. Joel's watching with that stern look, but it quickly fades, replaced with lust when you start shedding off your clothes.

First your shorts, then your tank top.

"Let's go swimming!" You say with that happy smile, the one that makes his heart beat soar.

He can't stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your stark naked body.

Not only did Joel enjoy your pert breasts and supple ass, he was also equally obsessed with the not overtly sexual things about you. Your hair, shoulders, collar bone, forearms, the curve of your spine—everything, he was consumed by it all.

He realizes that he needs to answer you, but all that comes out is a scoff.

"Hey—no. We don't know what the hells in that water." He huffs as his boner peaks through his jeans.

"Fine, guess I'll swim alone then." You say nonchalantly, knowing if you went in, odds were, Joel wouldn't be far behind.

And you were right.

As soon as you enter the cool water, you see Joel starting to undress in the corner of your eye.

You pretened you're not watching, and eventually he joins you in the lake.

You've waded out rather far into the water, waiting to speak until you know Joel is close.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" You ask, letting your body float above the surface, limbs outstretched while you stared up at the fluffy clouds.

If you could do this forever, you would. Naked as the day you were born, floating in warm spring water with Joel's company—maybe this was heaven.

Sure felt like it.

You almost don't even notice Joel's palm run up your shin and thigh, only when his hand lightly drifts over your lower stomach, is when you become all too aware.

Yet, he doesn't venture south.

Instead, he makes a path further up your stomach, then your ribs, then the valley of your breasts, until he rests his hand over your heart.

You stare at his face as he completes this insane act, completely baffled at the fact that he seemed so entranced and calm, while you were trying not to freak out.

He notices your stare, and finally meets your eye contact. No words leave his mouth—he can't seem to find any that feel right.

But he's thinking about how beautiful you are. How sweet and doting, how smart and witty. Everything about you encompassed into a few short words just didn't feel worthy enough.

But you can't just leave things the way they are.

Slowly, you situate yourself around him, attaching to his body like a koala bear. Your arms slide around his shoulders while your legs wrap around his waist.

Skin to skin, face to face, so fucking intense.

Joel's strong arms find themselves around your torso, keeping you close to him.

"Yeah, it does feel nice." Joel replies, his voice soft, his eyes even softer.

You smile, big and geniune, a feeling of bliss taking over you. "Isn't this so much better than some silly supply run?"

Joel rolls his eyes, which spurs you on even more.

"Come on, admit it; you'd rather be out here with me, than some stinky convience store looting pills." You tighten your legs a little around his torso, feeling your cunt become flush with his bare stomach.

You feel a surge of pride when his breath hitches and his erect cock prods at your ass.

But it doesn't take long for his expression to fall back into its natural scowl.

"M'not admitin' shit." He murmurs, bringing a hand up to move your wet hair over your shoulder and onto your back. It's an absentminded motion, one that Joel isn't really thinking about doing.

He just felt the urge to touch you.

You giggle at him, dropping your forehead to his shoulder to laugh.

Joel huffs, trying to stop smirking because your giggle is contagious. "Quit." Is all he says, shaking his head. "Can't believe you got me out 'ere doin' this shit." He grumbles, adjusting his hold on you slightly.

"What 'shit'?" You mimick him and his texan drawl, earning you a stern glare.

"Naked in a lake like m'some fuckin' teenager." He speaks with an unamused expression, before his eyes land back onto you and his gaze softens. "What're you doin' to me, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question, but he says it like he's truly desperate for an answer.

You're not sure how to respond. His eye contact is making your brain all foggy.

It's silent.

You can only hear the rustling water, your breathing, and the general nature sounds in the distance.

Joel knows he confused you with his words, so he takes a moment to look away.

"Alright," He huffs out eventually. "Time to go."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest because he's already walking back to the shore, his arm remaining secured tightly around your back, basically carrying you.

You're not ready to leave, but you know Joel is, so you just opt for a dejected sigh.

He lets you back down on your feet when you're both on the grass, lingering his hand on the small of your back when he picks up your clothes. He uncrinckles your shirt before opening it up so you could easily put it on.

"This is becoming a habit of yours." You murmur softly, putting on the tank top and cringing at the way it sticks to your wet skin.

"Mm?" Joel doesn't know what you're referring to. He's never realized his pattern of clothing you. It was a simple act, but one you found endearing.

"Nothin'." You chirp, sliding on your shorts and boots.

Joel looks at you assessingly while buttoning his jeans back up, sucking in his stomach to zip them.

You're looking right back at him, admiring the way his wet hair looks, how the grays peak out in the most perfect way.

In a nervous manner, you shift on your feet, sliding your hands down into your jean pockets. "You sure you don't wanna...fool around?" You muse, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Joel smirks down at the ground as he continues to button up his shirt, shaking his head.

"You're too late kid, should've asked when we were naked." He's teasing, walking back over to the horse and gesturing for you to come.

You groan out, dragging your feet as you walk over to him and the horse. You were being dramatic, and Joel see's right through it.

"Quit whinin'. C'mon," He mutters, grabbing you by the hips to hoist you back onto the saddle.

"You're no fun, old man." You mumble, which freezes Joel in his tracks.

He doesn't know why, but that one off-handed comment ignites a blazing string of destructive thoughts.

As if he wasn't already insecure enough about being old and no fun.

His brain is jump-starting the self-depricating train of thought he had grown accustomed to, only this time, it had more fuel because you unknowingly confirmed it.

Of course, that isn't what you meant at all. It was just a teasing little comment, one you didn't think twice about. You weren't actually upset—at all.

Nevertheless, Joel's already in deep.

Slowly, he swings himself behind you onto the horse, grabbing the reins and starting forward.

You're quick to notice his demeanor, but choosing to keep your mouth shut.

The entire ride back is silent.

It was just like the ride there, only with a more suffocating air.

You have an inkling, but you have no idea the extent of his turmoil behind you.

Eventually, you two make it back to the stables. Joel helps you down from the horse, moving like a robot with no facial expression.

He's got that look in his eye that worries you. Every atom in your body wants to ask him what's wrong, but you also don't want to pry.

However, Joel would never open up to you unprompted. So, you at least try.

Your hand drifts upwards to his face, smoothing some of his hair down by his ear. "Is everything okay?" You finally ask, your voice purposefully soft and light so you don't startle him like he was some wild animal.

He inhales through his nose and clenches his jaw.

Oh.

Something was really wrong.

Your gaze goes from slightly weary to concerned in a flash, nervously biting down on your lower lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask, very evidently willing to do whatever he needed.

Joel had never been good with emotional timing. At the end of the day, he was still a man.

“We’ve gotta stop this.” He blurts.

You’re still for a moment, confused with his abrupt and vague words. You wait patiently for an elaboration.

Eventually, one comes, to Joel’s own dismay.

“We can’t see each other anymore—not like this.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

And then another.

You’re frozen with dread.

It’s like your body has forgotten all functions as you sit there and stare at him.

Surprisingly, the only thing you’re able to think of in this life changing moment, is the Christmas party at Maria and Tommy’s.

You’re thinking about how Joel fucked you in the guest bedroom, and how he said he didn’t want you having sex with anyone else.

You remember how happy you felt—like you two were exclusive or something.

How stupid were you?

With a quick intake of air, you swallow and look away.

“Did I do something wrong?” You croak, your voice akin to a wilting flower.

Joel is wracked with guilt the moment he hears you. But his mind is forcing him to do this.

“No—no. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. This is all me, I fucked up and let this go on for too long.”

His answer provides no relief.

“But, I thought we—I thought you liked me?” You’re stumbling over your words because you’re so distraught, trying to blink away your persistent tears.

Shit.

Joel can hardly look at you. He would crumble and die if he did—the sadness in your expression is like several stabs to the gut.

Truth is, he did like you.

Thats why he wants to end things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can manage, head hanging down to look at the dirt.

You’re not looking at him either, instead opting to blankly stare at one of the horses in the stable.

“So,” You start, your voice cracking because you’ve started crying at this point. “You don’t wanna hook up, does that mean we can still hang out?”

Joel takes a big deep breath before answering.

"It would be best if we didn't see each other at all." Finally, he makes eye contact with you, and immediately regrets it.

You look like you've just been shot, for christsake—might as well have.

It was like he just tore your heart out, threw it to the ground, curb-stomped it, and kicked it down a gutter.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding slowly, trying to seem some-what chill about things. Inside, however, it was like World War III. "Uhm, I'm just gonna go home." Your voice is a croak, and Joel watches with the utmost remorse as you walk away.

It feels like shock.

Was this a break up? Were you even together in the first place? Why didn't he want to see you at all? Questions, questions, and more questions rattle in your brain as you shuffle away, hands shaking and eyes pouring.

You look down at the ring Joel gifted you on your finger, debting whether you should take it off or not.

Joel feels awful.

And it's not like the awful he felt the very first time he regected you—this time it's far more painful. It's a deeper wound, an uglier, gross, puss-infested cut that keeps getting worse the farther you walk away.

He thought he'd feel some relief.

He thought that after ending things, he would be rid of that nagging voice in his head.

But no, it remained.

Only now, it barked thoughts of wrong-doing.

'Why would you do that? Things were going great, you've fucked everything. You just broke her heart—’ and it goes on and on and on.

For a moment, the panic he feels registers in his mind as a heart attack. Thats what it felt like, anyway.

He has to brace himself against one of the wood beams in the barn, aggressively rubbing his chest to try and get his heart rate normal. Joel loses his breath in the process, not realizing that he's having a panic attack.

Whatever happens next, you don't see.

You never looked back after you walked away. *** "I don't know why you're all caught up about this, Joel." Tommy admits, a disappointed expression on his face.

Joel glares at his younger brother from the bar top, clearly disgruntled by Tommy's inability to understand his side of the situation.

It had been exactly 17 hours since Joel cut things off with you. He'd been drinking for at least 10 of those hours.

Somewhat drunkenly, he had told Tommy a very short and curt version of what happened.

But he got the picture. Tommy sighs, hanging his head for a minute before bringing it back up to speak again. "All m'sayin' is, it's the end of the damn world, Joel. Her 'future' ain’t graunteed; she'll be lucky if she makes it past 30 with the way things are. She's been 'round long enough to know that herself, n'for some fuckin' reason, she wants you—"

"She don't know what the hell she wants."

"See—that's where you're wrong, Joel." Tommy slams the whiskey glass that he was cleaning down on the bar, fed up and frustrated. "I've known 'er longer than you. She's a smart girl n'you're sellin' her short. Wake the hell up." He bites out before walking away, clearly finished with the conversation.

He had been watching and listening to Joel mop and groan about it all day and night—he had enough.

Other than the anger from being talked to in that manner welling inside of Joel, there was also a moment of clarity.

As much as it killed him to admit, Tommy was right.

He was selling you short.

The world is too ugly and fucked up for him not to act like everyday might be his last. He would be stupid to not just settle down and be happy with you for however long he had left.

Shit.

All alone in Tipsy Bison, Joel was slowly beginning to realize how majorly he screwed up.

He ruined things because he was too damn scared.

He didn't think there was a worse feeling than this—dealing with this huge fucking mistkae.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to come back from how things ended.

That look that you had in your eyes...Fuck. Joel didn't think he even deserved a second chance.

But goddammit if he didn't try.

After throwing the rest of his whiskey back, Joel got up from the barstool and hurriedly walked out, slamming the doors behind him.

He marches all the way to your place, ignoring whoever tried to talk to him on the way.

He had to do this. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

Finally, he makes it to your quaint little home, haulting in front of it. There is some imaginary force stopping him, something pulling him back.

It's that nagging voice in his head again, the one that caused this whole mess in the first place.

But this time, he ignores it, and trudges up your porch steps.

Joel knocks rather forcefully, his jaw clenching when you don't answer within seconds.

He bangs on the door again with his fist, hard, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

When you still don't answer, he enters anyway with your spare key (he always kept it on him), calling out your name as soon as he steps inside.

You hear him from your bed upstairs, though you honestly think you're hallucinating. You've been crying for hours, the only sound in your ears were your sniffles and sobs.

His heavy footsteps seem to get louder and louder, and when he calls out your name outside you're door, that's when you realize you weren't hallucinating at all.

You sit up just as Joel opens your door, your eyes wide with shock and tears.

He takes a couple steps inside before he sees how utterly devastated you looked. The sight of you renders him immoveable.

He feels…like the biggest asshole-asshat-douchebag-fuckwad-dickhead thats ever walked the planet.

“Why…are you here?” Your broken voice asks, trying your best to hold back tears.

Even after all he did, you still spoke so softly, all your respect for him still there.

He had talked himself up the entire walk over, but all his words were dying on his tongue.

He was beginning to think that there was nothing he could say that would make what he did right.

“Babygirl I—”

He sees you psychically flinch at his voice, and it makes his heart break all over again.

His feet carry him to the edge of your bed, hands coming out to hold your face.

You’re not sure how to process his touch, not sure how to process any of what’s happening, but you’re trying your best.

“I was wrong,” his thumb is wiping off the tear stains on your cheeks, a forced gentleness to his touch. “So fuckin’ wrong, babygirl. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing his words, you can’t stop the floodgate of your tears. You start bawling, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

“I was so scared.” You cry, bringing your hands up to latch onto him. You wanted to explain more, explain why you were scared—because having Joel and then suddenly not having him, was like ripping your heart out.

He can’t scoop you up in his arms fast enough.

He gets in the bed with you, lifting you onto his lap while he cradles your head to his chest, kissing the top of your scalp.

"M'not lettin' you go. I promise." He husks, his grip on you strong.

And Joel kept this promise.

He held you the entire night, ensuring that you were secure and warm.

In the morning, you immediately asked what changed his mind.

"I was frustrated." He starts, exhaustion etched into his face. "I couldn't understand why you wanted me. Felt I was keeping you from some great life—a young husband n' some white picket fence. But..life here is probably as good as it's gonna get. And this," He looks to the both of you, alluding to the relationship you shared. "Is really fuckin' good."

Your heart is crumbling at his confession.

Discovering that he spent so much time insecure about things, both infuriated and saddened you.

When you were about to respond and explain away his worries, he speaks again.

"M'not lettin' you go. What I did was a mistake. M'sorry."

You're crying again, sniffling softly against him.

"You should've just fuckin' talked to me," You whimper, burying your face into his neck. "I could've—”

"Ain't nothin' you could'a done. You never did anythin' wrong." Joel reassures, pulling you from his shoulder so he can look at your face. "You gon' forgive me?"

"Obviously," you mumble, looking at him with a fake frustrated expression. "I meant it when I said I've always been yours."

And just like that, things were resolved.

You brought your hand down to grip his flannel, sighing into his chest. Joel also sighed in relief, realizing that you weren't going anywhere.

To raise the spirits in the room, you crane your neck up to look up at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"M'still mad at you. How are you gonna make it up to me?" Initally, you weren't really insinuading anything sexual—you were thinking he could take you for dinner or ice cream or something.

But Joel has something different in mind.

He gently grabs your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you how he wanted. His tongue is warm in your mouth, his mustache prickly against your face.

When he breaks away, you're out of breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I got an idea." Joel mumbles, carressing your jawline with his thumb.

Slowly, he sits up only to position himself between your thighs. With his calloused hands, he slides his palm up the planes of your legs until he reaches your pants.

You shiver when he dips his fingers under your waist band, pulling them down agonizingly slowly.

"This okay?" He asks in a gentle tone, one that makes your stomach do flips.

"Yes," You say immediately and breathlessly. "Very okay."

The corners of his mouth turn up to resemble a smirk, before his gaze returns back to the area between your legs. He runs his fingers down your clothed slit, feeling the way your wetness coated the stringy fabric.

You let out a soft gasp, slightly bucking your hips, hungry for more of his touch.

He plays there for a while before finally taking your underwear off, setting it somewhere on the bed.

Joel inhales through his nose when he sees your glistening cunt, trying to not cum in his pants at just the sight. He doesn't stop his impulse to pull your folds apart, running his thumb along your lips.

He's being so slow and gentle—it’s making your heart rate each dangerous levels.

His thumb then ventures up to lovingly rub your clit, his eyes scanning your face to watching your reaction.

Your legs are shaking as you kept them apart for Joel, your hands fisting the sheets as you cope with the sensations he's allowing you.

Your chest is heaving up and down and your eyes are glazed over with a hazy fog—one that Joel loves to see.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel lowers his head and connects his lips to your clit.

The act makes you jolt, mostly because you weren't expecting it.

His tongue laps at you, slowly at first, but then something shifts in Joel.

It's like the hunger for your cunt overwhelms him, and his grip on your thighs tighten. Within seconds, he's devouring you like a man starved, licking long strips up your cunt before focusing on sucking your clit.

You can't stop the moans and mewls slipping past your lips, and you don't really want to. You want Joel to know how good he's making you feel.

"OhhhfuckJoel," You whine, shooting your hands down to grab his salt and pepper hair. He focuses solely on your bundle of nerves with his tongue, using his fingers to give your desperately empty hole some attention.

When he slides two fingers inside, you effectively fall apart.

Tear prick in the lining of your eyes, your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out his name.

The fact that he's never eaten you out before and he's been this good at it the entire time, felt criminal. You honestly might've been more offended that he waited so long to reveal this talent than when he tried to end things.

"Dontstopdontstopdontstop," You sob, feeling yourself reach that climax you craved.

You come with a loud moan, and Joel lets you ride it out on his tongue and fingers.

When your body goes limp, thats when Joel lets up. He brings his head out from your legs and slips his digits out of your spasming hole.

You mewl at the feeling, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" You asks, voice quiet and cracked.

"M'fifty-six years old—been around the block, babygirl." He's face is glistening with your juices, and his mouth is wearing that lopsided smile of his. It makes you wanna smile back.

"...Damn. So I'm not the first, huh?" You huff, not upset in the slightest, just wanting to tease him a little.

He chuckles and unzips his pants, letting his cock slap against his stomach. "No sweetheart, you ain't the first." He rasps, effortlessly manhandling you to straddle his lap. "But you are gon be my last."

His hands caress the plush surface of your hips, kneading them like dough while his eyes scan your face.

You're blushing so hard, your face probably looks like a spanked ass.

He really did have a knack for leaving you breathless with those one-liners of his.

You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, looking back down into his big brown eyes. All you can do is stare, because your brain is too focused on how hard your heart is beating to come up with a response.

"What? Now you ain't got nothin' to say?" He husks, his massive palm venturing down to your grab and squeeze your ass. Your back straightens and your lips part like you want to say something—but you're not quite sure what. "C'mon, use those pretty lips."

An idea pops into your brain.

"I'd rather use these lips," You whisper close to his mouth as you raise your hips up to hover over his member, slowly dipping his tip inside your warm hole.

"Fuck," Joel grunts, exhaling through his nose.

You grin at his reaction, lowering yourself down further with bated breath. You watch as his head lolls back and his grip tightens on your waist.

"What? Now you have nothing to say?" You mock, even though you're equally as breathless as he is.

He flashes you a glare before sliding a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand doesn't let you break away from his lips, and you don't plan to.

His tongue establishes dominance in your mouth, which you eagerly let happen. It's passionate, deep, bordering on punishing—sometime during, he manages to rip your top off, leaving you completely nude. But sooner or later, you both decide breathing might be a good idea.

You break away, chests heaving, mouths panting.

Eventually, you sink all the way down on him, giggling deliriously when you make eye contact again. You decide to forget your fake little fued, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Have I ever told you how big your dick is?" You mewl, squirming your hips around a bit but not lifting them up and down. It has Joel reeling.

His hands are holding you so tight, you're sure that it'll leave a bruise. "No," Joel huffs out rather distractedly, his eyes laser-focused on the way your cunt is gushing all over his lap. But you swear you can see the faintest blush on his tan skin.

"Well—your dick is real big." You whisper nearly inaudibly, making Joel snap his gaze back to your face. A lazy smile curls at your lips before you begin dragging you tight cunt up and down on his violently erect cock.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief, as he often does, but is unable to answer becase the feeling of being inside you is rendering him speechless. His hand absent-mindedly dips down to rub your clit—the act has you doubling over onto his shoulder, starting to bounce on him like your life depended on it.

"OhJoel, Iloveitsomuch," You blabble into his ear, noticing how he had taken the reigns at this point. He was manually lifting your hips, bringing them down with intense vigor.

He was stretching you out so good and his tip was so fucking deep—you were having a hard time staying conscious and not going brain dead.

It appears Joel's in the same boat too. "Fuck—you're killin' me." He grunts, bucking his hips up to meet you.

You giggle airily before immediately getting your karma—his dick paired with the position and the way his face looked—your cunt clenches down on him and you cum hard.

Your body jolts as you grab onto him, not expecting him to keep fucking you. But his grip on your hips doesn't falter, and Joel continues to bounce you up and down.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt. Just letting him manhandle your body and do what he wanted was a surprising relief—even if you did just come.

You're reduced to whimpers and moans as you slump into his chest, letting him ground you and fuck your abused cunt.

Finally, slams you down one final time, unloading deep into your warmth. His groans sound like music to yours hears, especially because you know it's you that's making him feel so good.

He's panting in your ear, slowly starting to move his hands up to wrap around your torso.

He's hugging you before you can register it; his big arms securing you tightly to his chest while you both tried to catch your breaths.

Seconds pass...which turn into minutes, and you're wondering if Joel ever plans on letting you go.

He's made no efforts to remove his dick from inside you—it's soft now, but still buried deep nonetheless.

Your pussy will occasionally flutter around him, which'll earn a soft sigh from his lips.

You place a soft kiss on his temple before straightening your back to look at his face. "You tryin' to make sure your seed takes or something'?" You murmur, that teasing lilt in your voice that Joel is all too familiar with.

"Somethin' like that." He mutters into your chest, pulling you down with him to lay on the bed. "Want me to pull out?" He asks after a moment, scanning your face for any traces of displeasure.

You nestle into his chest, hooking your leg over his waist to lodge him deeper inside. "Never."

You and Joel fuck all day, all night and even into the morning. With, of course, breaks in between so Joel can recharge his stamina.

It happens multiple times in your bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the hallway, and even in the kitchen come morning.

Joel was making coffee while you were traipsing around with just his flannel on—humming along to some made-up song. It was like you two were an old married couple; him hovering over the moka pot and you scowering the fridge for some breakfast.

"Blueberry pancakes orrrr...." Joel watches as your head is stuck in the fridge, trying to find ingredients for meals. "Blueberry pancakes."

He snorts. "Surprise me." He huffs sarcastically, knowing he'd be eating a plate of blueberry pancakes.

You grinned and started making the batch, feeling Joel's eyes all over you because of the way his flannel was slipping off your shoulder because it was far too big on you.

His stare was turning you on—so you just bent yourself over the cool surface of the countertop and Joel did the rest.

Eventually, your safari of fun had to stop sometime during lunch. You both had succesfully cleaned yourselves and had started dressing for the day.

"I just told Maria I'd help set up." You murmur distractedly, tying your hair up in the bathroom mirror. Maria was holding a little town party in one of the recreational centers, and asked you, as well as some others to help her with the decorations.

There's a pause before Joel steps into the tiny bathroom, situating himself behind you and sliding his large hand over your stomach. He places a soft kiss to your head before dropping his hands to softly squeeze your hips.

"I'll walk you there."

A beat.

"You will?" He nods in confirmation, which has you turning around to look at him. You smile and tilt your head playfully. "You gonna walk me to first period too?"

Joel immediately rolls his eyes and scoffs, though you swear you can see him smirk.

"Smartass." He huffs out, grabbing your forearms to move you out of the way.

"Kidding." You chime, leaning on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. You weren't sure why you were so surprised by his offer, but you could tell it was a sign of something.

Maybe he wasn't stressed about people finding out about you two anymore. He never said that he was—but you could tell.

And it wasn't like he was embarrassed of you or anything—he's just always been a private person. It wasn't anyone's business who he was falling asleep next to every night.

But you—he'd be willing to change that for you.

When you both are ready, you exit your house, locking the door behind you. You look up to see your neighbor watching as you and Joel descend your porch steps.

You never liked her—gossipy woman who was always sticking her nose in places it didn't belong.

Quickly, your gaze snaps to his face, wanting to see if he was okay or anxious or whatever it may be.

But Joel's just looking right back down at you. "Lead the way, pretty lady." He murmurs lowly, his jaw clenched but his eyes soft.

You smile, and fall into step with him as you both walk down the sidewalk. The birds are chirping, the breeze feels amazing, and Joel is cracking smiles at your jokes.

Life felt good again.

Suddenly, Tommy appears out of nowhere, as he often does, blocking you and Joel's path.

You freeze, trying to keep a neutral face. You still weren't sure how to act around people with Joel, so you were just planning to play if off like you guys were just two buddies walking or whatever.

"Hey," Tommy greets, looking at you and then Joel, his eyebrows pinched together like he was confused at seeing the two of you in the same vicinity.

Oh. He probably knew what happened, or bits and pieces of it.

For some reason, you feel anxious that Joel might be feeling anxious, so you look down at your feet and nervously fidget with your hands.

"What're you two doin'?" Tommy asks, a detective look in his eyes as he shifted on his feet.

Joel clears his throat before looking down and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his calloused grip. He can't help but glare at Tommy with a stern face, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

Your breath catches.

Tommy's eyes venture down to your joined hands, then you, then Joel.

After a beat, a sharp and knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Well I'll be damned." THE END.

[screampied]

just need a oneshot where toji being so extremely soft with his pregnant wife.😔

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, toji's a big softie, calls reader 'mama' + 'baby' & 'darlin'

wc. 2.0k

toji rubs his eyes, pure static forming into his irises for a bit as he’d awaken up from his nap. with a quick glance at the clock, it read two thirty. in the background played the intro from some old western movie that was on repeat. ah, ever since you’ve gotten pregnant he’s always been staying up with you, ruining his sleep schedule in the process. not that he necessarily minded, you were his wife and he’d do anything for you,

his ears twitch a bit as he hears a sudden ruffling noise of feet — verdant eyes of his focus on you and it’s you trodding towards him and he smiles. “heyy,” he murmurs in a drowsy tone, he figured you’d be awake. toji stares at you so lovingly, the cute baby blue nightgown you wore, winnie the pooh slippers that dragged across the fleecy carpet. with a yawn, he pats his lap for you to take your seat. “y’er lil waddle never stops bein’ cute, mama.”

“stop.” you frown with a pouty look, he’d always tease whenever you do your cute little walk. he grows to adore it, the cute rounded bump on your belly only getting larger. pretty soon, you were about to reach your second trimester. time flew by so fast, it was almost like before you could blink, you’d be meeting your beloved new baby. you slowly make your way onto toji’s lap and he slings an arm around you. he smells good, you were a bit tired already from that ten second walk, cute..

“sorry baby,” toji utters in a soft voice, kissing the back of your head as you relax into his embrace, leaning back. “was gonna wake ya up but ya looked so peaceful,” and he brings a kiss near the inner crevice of your neck. “miss me already?”

you still remain with the cute glowering expression. with a sigh, you shrug. “yes, actually. missed you a lot.”

“awww,” toji caresses against your thighs, his touch was delicate and gentle. as he spoke in a gruff voice, he nips a few more kisses toward the corner of your neck as you faced the other direction. “missed you more. ‘n i missed our girl too,” and that catches you by surprise, he’d always refer to the baby’s gender as a girl. as if he could read your mind, he chuckles before leaning his head against your shoulder. “whaaat? got a feelin’ ‘s gonna be a girl.”

“i think it’s gonna be a boy,” you mumble, feeling your heart flutter a bit. oh, it was always like this between the two of you. the constant banter of the gender, toji just knew it was gonna be a girl while you thought otherwise. he’d be happy with either or though. you, likewise. toji watches with half-lidded eyes as you turn your body a bit to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you plant a kiss on his chin, lips brushing against his stubble and he hums in amusement. “did you get any sleep at all? you have eye bags, ‘toj.”

“ah, ‘m fine,” he grins at your concern, the scar slashed near the right side of his lip twinging in response. you were so cute—the pregnancy glow you had bestowed on you, he could stare at you all day. toji leans in to kiss your nose, yet he notices your deadpan. with a grunt, he surrenders.

“okay okay, the most i got was maybe four-ish hours,” and the look of worry on your face made his heart twist. toji pats your head, smoothening his tone. “don’t worry, baby. it was for a good cause. was up all night readin’ that book you bought like last week.”

with your brows furrowing in confusion, your lips part at your abrupt realization. “oh— the pregnancy fact book?” and then you giggle. “really? i thought you said books were boring, toji.”

“trust, they are,” he sulks, bringing his wrist to rub his eyes. you take a brief glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday. despite it being unable to tell time anymore, he still flaunts it, all because it was a gift from you. with a low sigh, toji moves a few strands out of your face. “but, ‘m willing to try new things for you—er, for us. and it’s quite informative, it told me about y’er strange cravings ‘n it checks out.”

you frown. “what’s wrong with my cravings? you told me you like them.”

“well, darlin’ i love you a lot okay,” and he paints a wet kiss against your cheek. “but if i have to eat another peanut butter pickle sandwich with you, ‘m gonna lose it.”

“it’s not that bad,” you protest, bringing a palm near your stomach to rub it. the bump was easily growing as the weeks progressed—you couldn’t help but be excited once the week of forty rolled around. “you just have a bland appetite.”

toji rolls his eyes. “peanut butter and pickles, baby. not jelly, pickles. pickles?” and you look at him, he’s gently holding both of your shoulders before you giggle. “and i thought nothin’ could top the toast ‘n ice cream.”

you deadpan again. “okay now you’re just being dramatic.”

“i love you,” he boops your nose. “i love you and y’er weird food cravings,” and toji’s eyes trail down toward your tummy. so cute and round, he gingerly moves the fabric of your gown up to reveal your skin, a palm ghosting against your belly. “any cramps today? pain i should know about?”

“no,” you hum, immediately relaxing from his touch. the warmth of his hand made your breathing slow a bit. he moves it around in a smooth circular rotation before brushing a thumb against your belly button. “kinda scared toji.”

leafy, viridescent eyes meet its way back up to yours before his face softens. “what for, darlin’? good scared or bad scared?”

in a sweet, timid tone, you puff out a single shaky breath. “like … both i guess? i’m excited of course but ‘m kinda scared. we’re having a baby, toji. pretty soon i’ll be on my third trimester,” and he’s so attentive as you’re talking, quite literally getting lost in your eyes. who knew that you could turn this man into such a soft sap, he adored you. as you continue to rant, toji strokes your cheek with a warmhearted simper. “i watched lots of videos about birthing and it looks scary.”

“not gonna lie to you, baby. ‘s gonna be scary, but y’know what? ‘m gonna be right there with you,” and he strokes a thumb against the enlarging stretch marks growing against your belly. he’s gentle, tracing a finger against each one before his eyes avert back up to you. “i’ll be right beside you. holdin’ y’er hand ‘n all,” and he kisses the crown of your head. “y’er gonna be the prettiest mommy. our girl’s lucky to have you. i’m lucky to have you.”

for some reason, those last few words struck right through the veins of your heart. mentally, you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry—

but alas, your eyes start to swell up, bottom lip quivering and toji notices immensely at your change of body language.

“awww, was that too much?” he purrs, bringing you towards his chest. you sniffle, your nose digging into his neck and an arm of his cradles you. toji starts to rock you, he presses another kiss against the top of your head before humming. “didn’t mean ‘ta make ya cry, darlin’ but ‘s true. ya don’t gotta worry that pretty little head, ‘m gonna be right here for anything..”

a solid tear drops against his tank top before your chin rests against his chest. you slowly look up at him with that familiar pouty expression before he swipes a thumb against your eyes. “cutie,” he takes your tears away, your lashes all damp and long. “y’er even more emotional because of the baby too. hormones, aw yeah i know these facts by heart.”

“you’re such a dork,” you wipe your face with a laugh, the mood suddenly light again. toji was gonna be spewing out pregnancy facts at you all day, you knew that now. whilst you sat up, trying to re-collect yourself, you speak in a soft voice. “but really, thank you toji. i love you,” and you grab ahold of his hand. your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing it tight. “you’ll be a great daddy.”

“heyy girl, don’t make me cry now,” he teases, a thumb of his running across the softness of your hand.

toji’s face relaxes, the more he stares into your eyes, the more he falls more and more in love.

toji was just as excited as you, maybe even more.

he couldn’t wait to start this new milestone, this new journey with you. a baby, the two of you would be proud new parents. the thought of it alone brings a soft smile to his face before he leans in to kiss you.

you return the gesture,

closing your eyes while feeling his warm lips mash against your own. toji was so weak for you, happily so.

life was worth living for him again now that he had you and the growing baby in your stomach. once you met him, he thought he’d never move on. he was a broken man who came to the mere conclusion that he had no purpose— all until you came along. toji didn’t believe in second chances, but maybe he’d start. you were his everything, and he couldn’t have been anymore grateful to have you in his arms at this right particular moment.

after a while, the kiss departs and toji smears a thumb against your glossed lips. “you drive me crazy,” he whispers, soft jade like irises peering into yours for about fourteen seconds before he sneaks a kiss near your jaw. “oh, you just reminded me. i ordered somethin’ the other day.”

with your interest piqued, you watch as he grabs out his phone— toji opens some shopping app, swiping a thumb near the check out section before showing it to you. what you were staring at was a cute huge pink sticker for cars that displayed the words of, ‘BABY ON BOARD!’

“you’re so cute,” you lean in to hug him, finding his enthusiasm adorable. a hand of his strums against your back before he leans against the couch. “you’re really set on it being a girl though, huh?”

“yeah,” he presses his nose against yours. “or if it’s a boy, we can name ‘em toji. such a manly name.”

your eye twitches. “one of you is enough,” and he smirks, feeling your thumb play against his scar. “but toji, ‘s like the afternoon. you should go back to sleep.”

“not tired,” he shakes his head, wrapping two arms around your sweet frame. your scent had him always wanting more of you, so sweet. toji pats your back gently before his face buries into your neck. “i’d rather stay up ‘n talk with you.”

“but i was gonna go back to sleep,” you pout.

toji huffs with a smile, kissing the shell of your ear. “oh, you want me back in bed, ‘s that it? darlin’ you could have just asked.”

you blankly stare at him and he guffaws, standing up and pulling you with him. “ah, c’mon. let’s go sleep for another fifteen hours i guess,” he teases, and he helps you walk. toji gawks at your cute waddle. so cute, you felt like you had so much water stored in you. entirely full, your heels slide against the floor before you hold onto your husband’s bicep. “there we go, one step at a time.”

“i’m not a baby, toji.” you mutter, secretly feeling yourself get hot from his doting affection. he’s holding onto you and you’re holding on to him.

“y’er my baby,” he corrects, and once the two of you reach the empty bedroom filled with infant supplies and boxes of baby furniture, you take a seat on the edge of the mattress. toji towers above you as you sit, cupping your face with a sly smile. “wife,” he coos in a gentle voice, two thumbs fondling against both sides of your temples. “i love you. never forget it, yeah?”

“i .. love you too toji.”

he hums. “heh, before we sleep though. how about some pickles?” and your face lights up.

[bcksbarnes]

you always tried to keep the house clean and tidy for when bucky came home. not because it was ingrained in some domestic need to be a homemaker, but because most most nights bucky didn't get home until late. it was the very least you could do after he spent the day protecting the world.

that didn't mean every night was perfect.

this specific night your chore list wasn't too long. all you had to do was the dishes, but your body was tired. you managed to talk yourself into resting for a few minutes.

a quick nap. twenty minutes. that was all. then you'd get up and finish them.

apparently, your body had other plans for you, because you awoken hours later to find the once bright blue sky had darken. the alarm clock on your bedside table flickering that it was well past midnight.

for some reason it doesn't register in your brain that you can hear the water running downstairs until you reach the last step, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. you round the corner into the kitchen to find bucky standing over the sink, his hands meticulously scrubbing a cup with the sponge, still in his tactical gear, his shoulders hunched over.

"buck," you say as you approach him. "i'm so sorry, i meant to finish those before you got home."

bucky looks over his shoulder and smirks when he meets your gaze. he places the cup in the dish rack and shuts the water before he grabs a towel to dry his hands, tossing it to the side when he finishes.

"why are you apologizing?" he asks, stepping forward until he's right in front of you, his hands finding your face and tilting it up to look at him. "because you were tired? because i can also do some chores every once in a while."

he had you there.

leaning down, bucky presses a few kisses to your forehead. soft and comforting.

"let's get you back to bed," he insists, already guiding you back towards the stairs - ready to watch you fall asleep in his arms.

[ilium-ilia]

calyptra thalictri

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | "single mom" au | masterlist

8: pupae

No matter what form it takes, all meat looks the same. 

Swine. Sheep. Man. The fibres are all kindred—pale connective tissue, blooming red cells. Two legs or four, Simon can always mark the cuts with a single glance. Chuck, round, flank, plate—a dancing blade, flesh slicing apart, splitting open until it reveals itself and all its gorey glory. Even the scent is the same; come human or pig, the offals are just as rancid no matter the name.

It’s the only job Simon was able to pick up after being discharged. Trading his gun for a knife only made sense. Being a butcher isn’t too different from being a soldier, and even after all his time spent away from the craft, his hands still have each cut memorized. Everything smells the same, just with less gun powder. When things get too quiet, he turns on the radio and cranks it up until the crackling voices sound like barking commands given over a shotty earpiece. 

The order is comforting. When 17:00 stares down at him from the analogue clock hung high over his head, he gets to put everything in its place. Cold, coagulated blood washed down the sink, stainless steel turning pink, knives sharpened and honed until he’s able to store them on the magnetic rack above the chopping block. When he suds up his hands—antibacterial soap stripping his skin until it’s dry and cracking—he nearly misses the redolence of death that he’s grown so fond of. 

As he locks up the shop and wanders towards his car with a cigarette pressed to his lips, Simon thinks about how he never really needed this job. Between his disability payments from his time in the service, and his offshore accounts, he could vanish. Slip deep into the woods where no one would hound him. Just him and the flies for company. 

Though, if he is going to take care of you and his child, the extra money won’t hurt. 

“Ghost.” 

There’s someone leaning against the driver’s door to his car. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, navy jacket stretching over his shoulders—it’s been a long time since Simon’s seen the fellow before him and the russet eyes and telltale scar on his cheek that creases with the brassy smirk on his lips. 

“Gonna scratch my paint, Gaz,” Simon grunts through his nicotine haze. 

“Right, sorry,” Kyle says with a chuckle. The man gently pushes himself away from the car with a quiet wince. Simon isn’t blind to the off kilter limp in his gait. 

“You broken?” he asks bluntly. 

Kyle dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Temporary medical leave.”

“Reckon your back isn’t treatin’ you too kindly after all the shit you’ve put it through.” 

“No sir.” 

Though his cigarette is only half finished, Simon tosses it to the ground where it sputters on the asphalt for a short moment before he smothers it with the toe of his boot. The flickering embers make him hungry. 

“Here for a tour?” Simon questions bluntly. 

“I’d rather a drink,” Kyle quips. 

He thinks it over for a moment. There’s this thought of you that lurks at the base of his skull for all hours of the day—waking and unconscious. You. Ever rounder with his child, you’re probably home by now having thrown yourself on the couch or into bed, groaning over your hips and swelling feet. His teeth hurt at the thought, and his hands itch to return to you, but as he stares at Kyle, he thinks he can pretend to be human for at least a little while. 

The pub is just the same as all the other times they’ve gone out for drinks. That forever lingering scent of smoke taints every pore in the walls and ceiling, souring the hoppy beer and fresh chips, but it doesn’t turn either of them off from grabbing a seat. Kyle slinks into his chair slowly with his palms flat on the table before he falls back into the seat with a strained grunt. Simon can’t help but chuckle. 

“Yeah, real funny,” Kyle murmurs. 

“Just wait ‘til you’re my age,” he hums. 

“What, thirty-eight going on fifty?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” 

Both men sip on the pint glasses in their hands while the sconce lazily flickers overhead. The wooden table beneath Simon’s elbows is in desperate need of a good clean. His jumper sticks to the top, and the scratch marks threaten to leave splinters in his forearms if he makes any sudden movements. 

“Settling into civi life alright?” Kyle asks after a short stretch of silence. 

Simon eyes the man carefully; studies every inch of his face. The concern is real, but the verbiage isn’t his. “Ol’ skipper worried ‘bout me?” 

“Of course he is,” Kyle shrugs. 

“Can take the man out of the military…” The rim is cold against Simon’s lips as he takes a sip, thin layer of foam breaking over his tongue until the amber liquid washes down his throat with a gulp. “Thing’s are fine.” 

Kyle smirks. “Never been one for details.” 

“Only the important ones.” 

The laughter is tight in Kyle’s throat, and Simon can’t tell if it’s from the discomfort of pain or his gauche company. He’s always been a rough man. Hardly agreeable. Built for one thing, and it certainly isn’t for being a gracious host or a model citizen. 

“But really,” Kyle pushes. “I mean, after everything. Makarov and Soap… I guess worried might be a bit of an understatement. You might not be active duty anymore, but Price still considers you one of his men. We all do.” 

All. He says the word as if there’s any more than a small handful of members who aren’t corpses in the ground buried too far out of reach. Kyle, Price, Laswell; and who else? Not Soap. Not his Johnny. Still, he has a trail to diverge. A scent to cover. 

“I work. I sleep well. I eat. I’m gettin’ there, Gaz.” Not too perfect that it’s faux, but blunt enough to be from his mouth all the same. 

Kyle nods as his eyes study his face. He gazes deep at every scar that mars his features, the creases in the corners of his eyes, the puffy texture of his skin. A war torn, battle scarred man. Something so rigid in a world of softness—sharp edges waiting to puncture and wound. 

Still, it’s enough to muddy Kyle’s senses for now. “Glad to hear it.” 

Neither of them linger for long. Between Kyle’s injury and Simon’s intense distaste for most social interaction these days, the two men wander up to the front with their wallets drawn to pay for their tabs. The cash is flimsy between Simon’s fingers as he relinquishes it, watching the notes flutter onto the counter, but the only tangible thing he can keep his mind on is you. 

His skin itches. Unrestrained want slithers beneath his skin, bloating him as it wraps around his organs, his bones, his throat. A desire of the most primal instinct. To keep. To protect. 

“Holy shit.” Kyle’s exclamation is near breathless. It draws Simon’s attention, and his hairs stand on end when he realizes the man isn’t looking at him. Blinking, Kyle gestures to his wallet. “Congrats, man.” 

That’s when Simon remembers the sonogram. Delicate black and white film is shoved carefully into the ID slot in his wallet, displaying his child with pride. Still forming limbs, curled towards the torso, head bent forward as if swaddled. He runs a thumb over the plastic before humming. 

“How far along?” Kyle prompts. 

“Almost six months,” Simon says after a short moment of consideration. 

This is the first time he’s discussed the baby with anyone other than you. Otherwise, it’s been kept a secret inside of him. A jittering truth fluttering in his chest, tightening every muscle in his body until his desires bear fruit. 

“Do you know the gender?” 

Slowly, Simon begins to fold his wallet, carefully creasing the leather so as to not blemish the sonogram; one of the instances of proof of his baby. Still, he cannot deny the pride that purrs in his stomach. 

“A boy.” 

The drive home is quick. Heavy foot on the pedal, streets speeding by—it isn’t long before he’s trekking through the door. Though enervation nips at his heels from a long day on his feet, all that weariness vanishes when he finds you in the living room. 

You have a harder time curling up these days, so instead of your legs being tucked underneath you, they spread straight out while your feet rest on the floor. A blanket drapes over your lap as you lazily watch whatever programme is droning on the television, but your eyes light up once his heavy steps break into the room. 

“Simon!” you exclaim. “Come here!” 

He’s trained you well over these last few weeks. You’re more dependent on him. Less likely to push down your feelings and hide away. Instead, you come to him with wet eyes and outstretched fingers, ready to fall into him, ready to let him kiss everything away until it’s numb. Just as you ought to. 

Following your request, he sits beside you on the couch and it isn’t long before you’re snatching his hands into yours. Placing his palms flat on your stomach, you rest your touch on top of him, buzzing as you scoot closer to him. 

“He’s been really active today,” you inform with poorly hidden glee. 

And you’re right. Simon feels him right away—the movement. The fluttering kicks against your womb and how it displaces your stomach. He can’t hide the way a smirk pulls at his lips as he presses harder, desperate to feel every morsel of movement his son will give him. 

“Quite the kicker,” Simon hums. 

“It’s fun until he lands one against my ribs,” you tease. 

Smirking, Simon bends forward low enough until his lips brush against your clothed stomach. As if feeling him, the baby prods at his mouth, and he imagines tiny fingers reaching out to poke him. 

“You be good to your mother, young man.” Then, he kisses you. The warmth from your stomach bleeds into him and for a moment everything goes quiet. There is no ticking bomb, or gunshots and ichor, there is only you, him, and his son in the palm of his hands.

“Don’t worry, you and Daddy will meet real soon.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | early access to chapters here

[newrochellechallenger2019]

line cook!art who makes you hold his cigarette while he's fucking you because it's 'easier'... hmmm........ hm....................

ava i could kiss you right now...thank you... headcanons here!

a ticket.

"your place or mine?" scrawled on the back of table 49's order in his familiar handwriting. you'd been wondering when this 'invitation' would appear, ever since you'd caught art's eye as he leaned on the doorframe of the kitchen, his arm muscles flexed. you'd heard the rumours, the warnings from other servers when you'd started, "don't ever sleep with the line cooks!" "are you crazy? it'll fuck up the whole job!" but art was different from the other line cooks, he wasn't some constantly hungover teenager or the 50yr old man who you were 99% sure sold drugs on the side. so, you started rolling up your skirts just a little higher, leaning over the counter just enough that your boobs pushed up in the right way and it worked. art noticed, and he reciprocated, leaving you leftover fries or hashbrowns on the side of the kitchen, for which you were incredibly grateful.

"yours" you scribble back hastily with a smile on your face, walking back to the kitchen, making some excuse about forgotten items on the ticket to the other servers eyeing you suspiciously as you pass by, handing the order back to art, who just offers a small, innocuous nod in response.

art's waiting for you when you clock out, leaning against a car that must be older than either of you, arms folded across his chest in a way that makes the muscles bulge yet again and you fight the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl at the sight. your eyes drift back to the car to distract yourself, noting the dented wing mirror and scratched doors.

'grandma's.' he offers as a curt response to his old car before you even open your mouth to ask.

you nod awkwardly, 'how is she?' you say out of bumbling politeness.

'she died.' he shrugs, though you note the flicker of grief in his eyes when he says it.

'i'm sorry.' you mumble sympathetically, holding his gentle gaze.

art looks away from you at that, running his hand through his unkempt hair and opening the passenger door. you take the hint and scurry over, slipping into the seat and he winks at you as he shuts the door, back to the art you knew.

he walked round and got in the driver's seat, the car spluttered to life and he put his arm round your headrest to see if he could pull out safely and you blush, unbeknownst to you he spots the pink dusting your cheeks and smirks.

the journey to his place is fairly silent and outside your window the bustling city centre is slowly fading into downtown, the streets getting quieter and more deprived. art's humming beside you, tapping his calloused fingers against the steering wheel in tune to some rock band cd you don't know.

pulling into a backstreet, an apartment building slowly comes into view as art parks deftly, car creaking slightly as he does. he gets out the car and comes round to open your door, and you step out, his arm going round your waist protectively as he ushers you into the building.

'elevator broke weeks ago' he mutters, shaking his head in disappointment as you glance at the taped up silver doors and back at the steep staircase. art seemed to realise your fear and nudged you playfully, 'don't worry baby, i'm only on the first floor.'

baby. that pet name sent shivers down you spine and you struggled to keep your composure as you nodded in acknowledgement before the two of you climbed the stairs, his arm encircling your waist even tighter.

'welcome...' art grins as he turns his jangling keys in the lock, '...to Casa Donaldson' he jokes, stepping inside the apartment with his arms outstretched.

it was crappy, no other way to describe it. a dimly lit studio apartment with a few standard kitchen counters on your left, a minuscule bathroom to your right and just beyond the kitchen island is his bed, the bed. you're surprised it even has a bedframe based on how bare the rest of the place is.

art steps back towards you, cutting the impromptu judgemental tour in your head short. he's taller but not by much, just enough for him to tilt your chin to face him, a flirtatious smirk on his face as he looks you up and down. 'now...where were we?' he leans down, blue-green eyes closing as he press his lips to your supple ones.

you gasp into the kiss, melting into the feeling as he pulls you closer, your bodies moulding into one. at some point the kisses grow hungry, tongues colliding between parted mouths, and your back hits the door as art cages you in. 'you're so hot baby' he murmurs between hot kisses, fingers unbuttoning your white work blouse. 'c'mon doll show me those pretty tits of yours' he growls against your neck, his hands snaking down to your bra and pushing your chest up and you whine. 'you like showing these off huh? tryna get my attention that badly?' he taunts as he unclips your bra, 'mmph...yes...' you pant, your hands roaming all over his body desperately.

'well...you've got it' he grunts, his hands slipping under your thighs and lifting you so you have no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the bulge in his trousers start to grow. he drops you unceremoniously on the bed, lifting your hips to slide your work skirt off and reveal your lacy panties. 'wearing these for me too?' he teases with a devilish smirk, finger slowly running up the fabric and you squirm, 'art-'. wordlessly, he slides the panties off your legs and tosses them onto the wooden floors of his apartment, his own trousers and boxers following suit. he leans back down and captures your lips in a ravenous sloppy kiss, before pulling away. 'c'mere doll' he says, crooking a finger and you sit up, surprised. 'here.' he repeats, patting his lap, his cock standing to attention.

you shuffle over towards his lap under his watchful eye, and he grips your hips, lifting you onto his cock. you feel the tip start to penetrate you and you squeak, 'that's it...' he purrs encouragingly as you sick down on his cock. it's big and you can feel it stretching your walls and you moan, 'ngh- oh-' until you bottom out and art groans, throwing his head back, 'fuck...yep...good girl...' he says through gritted teeth. your brain short circuits at 'good girl' but you remember something about coconut so you slowly start to move on his lap and art's breath comes in short pants, hands gripping your hips so hard you know they'll be marks left there tomorrow.

however, it doesn't take long before art starts to get bored, your movements not creating any stimulation for him. he reaches down and grabs a cigarette from the jacket crumpled on the floor beside the bed and you still, 'did i-?' 'one sec baby' he interrupts you, thumb flicking at a lighter as the cigarette catches flame, he takes a long drag and breathes out a plume of smoke whilst you stare at him in shock. 'could you hold this for me doll?' he smirks, slipping the cigarette between your teeth and you cough in surprise, smoke spluttering from your mouth. 'thank you' he pats your cheek mockingly before his hands return to your hips, 'now...baby...may i help? he croons and you nod dumbly.

art starts to lift his hips up into you and you gasp, his tip hitting your gspot roughly, 'mm-ngh-' comes art's moans as you flop around like a ragdoll in his lap as he repeatedly rams into that spot that makes you see stars from below. 'oh! oh!' you shriek, as art leans in and takes the cigarette from your mouth with his own, inhaling smoke with pleasure. you clench around him and he moans, 'oh baby-hughh- that's- yeah-' as he feels himself nearing release. his lifting hips become more erratic as he continues to pump into you, 'i'm- uh- fuck- i'm gonna-' is all he can manage before he's shooting his load into your tight pussy and you gasp, eyes wide as you feel his seed fill you and that action is enough to cause you to clench around him, 'art please- please-' you burble as you cum on his cock, draining ever last drop from him as your juices swirl with his own. you rest your head on his shoulder as you come down from the high, both of you panting in unision. 'please tell me you're on birth control' he pants and you nod meekly, 'oh thank god' he murmurs, slowly helping you off his cock and into the bathroom, seeing your own slick coating your thighs and smirking with pride.

you're awoken the next morning by an empty space beside you and the sound of cooking. you open one bleary eye and see art stood at the kitchen island. he winks at you 'and here i thought i'd killed you with my mega cock' he laughs and you groan, turning your face away and hiding in the sheets in shame. there's a creak as he sits down on the bed beside you and holds out a plate, 'grilled cheese?'.

tags: @blastzachilles @s0ftcobra @femme-lusts @glennussy @cha11engers @stanart4clearskin

[bookshelf-dust]

stubborn

billy hargrove x fem!reader

gif by @hawkinsboys

word count: 2,970

warnings: swearing, a couple sexualish comments, mechanic!billy, enemies to lovers type beat, set post-college

synopsis: working with billy hargrove is the bane of your existence. you can’t stand him. can’t stand how gorgeous he is. or that he might not be the bad guy you thought he was.

a/n: hi lovelies!! it’s been forever since i wrote for billy—most of which is due to focusing on school and all the writing i do for that, but also i just hadn’t had any good ideas for him. but alas, this one came to me, and i think it turned out pretty cute. let me know what you think!! lets yap about him!!! ♥️

————

“Nah, you’re all good, Mrs. Peterson.” 

Billy says your name, amiably walking the elderly woman up to the front desk with one hand hovering behind her in case she needs to be steadied. “She’ll take care of you, and if you need anything else you can give us a call.” 

Mrs. Peterson grins, patting the skin on Billy’s forearm. She slips him a butterscotch candy. You cringe when he winks and pulls the plastic wrapping away, popping the treat in his mouth. He hates butterscotch, but he eats it whenever Mrs. Peterson comes in to get her oil changed because she always gives him something to snack on. 

Fucking kiss-ass, you think. 

“Thank you, sweetie.” Her gaze shifts to you as she settles her pocketbook on the countertop and begins digging around inside. “Nice boy, that one. Makes me happy to see that boys are still being raised properly.” She rubs her chest.

Her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. “If I were you, young lady, I’d be sure to snatch up a man that well-rounded before it’s too late.”

Your palms go all sweaty just as the cash drawer opens. If only she knew. You start counting out her change. “Mrs. Peterson, Billy and I are just coworkers. Besides, I’m not really his type.”

The woman sighs. “What’s all this about types? If you like someone, you like them. You kids make things much too complicated nowadays.”

“Tell me about it,” you mutter under your breath. You watch as Mrs. Peterson grabs a mint from the counter on her way out. 

A quick glance at the clock has you rolling your eyes. It’s just you and Billy on shift today, no buffer between you to keep the peace, or at least prevent you from having to look at him for too long. You don’t have another appointment for close to two hours. Your nails tap against the vinyl tabletop. There’s a Dr. Pepper you left in the back of the fridge—maybe that’ll help you power through. 

You turn around and your entire body jolts. “Jesus fuck!”

Billy laughs. “Sorry, sugar. Figured you heard me walk over.”

“I was too busy thinking of how I could avoid you until our next appointment gets here.”

He crosses his arms and leans up against the doorframe. He’s so stupidly attractive when he does that that it makes you want to knee him in the balls. “How sweet. Anyway, I’m gonna go pick up lunch. You want me to get you somethin’?”

“I’m good.”

You start towards the break room. Billy steps to the side and blocks your path. “I’m going to that sandwich place up the street. What do you want?”

You duck below Billy’s arm. He just lowers it so you can’t get around him. 

“I said I’m good.”

Billy’s gaze drops to your mouth and back up to your eyes. He takes a step closer to you, enough so that you can smell his cologne. You tell him at least once a week that you hate it, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t cherished the way it lingers after he leaves a room. 

“And I asked what you want. You didn’t bring lunch.”

You scoff. “How the fuck would you know that?” You raise your hands, gesturing with them as you fuss at him. 

“Because every morning you come in here with all those fuckin’ bags and you were missing one. Probably because you were late.”

“Oh, right, because I can control when my car won’t start and then there’s an accident on the freeway!” 

Billy’s arms drop. “Your car wouldn’t start?”

“Go get your lunch, Billy.”

He keeps his eyes on yours when he snatches his keys off the hook under the front desk. “You want a pickle today or no?”

“Oh my god, Billy!” 

You practically shove him out the front door and then flip the welcome sign to say Be Back Soon! He blows a kiss at you from the driver's seat of his car. You flip him off in return and just know he’s laughing when he pulls out of the parking lot.

When he gets back, you’re chugging your Dr. Pepper. For a moment, you’d been scared that one of the other mechanics on shift the past few days would’ve taken it, especially because you forgot to write your initials on the cap. 

It bothers you that Billy realized you’d forgotten to pack lunch. It bothers you that he knows what time you get to work. It bothers you that he could tell you’re hungry. But at the same time, knowing that he pays enough attention to you to know those things—it sends a startling recognition down your throat. Your shoulders stiffen.

You like that he knows those things. And you hate it, because he is the last person you want to feel any attraction towards. 

You inhale through your nose and hold your eyes closed for a few seconds before you exhale. You’re not going to think about that right now. 

You make your way back to the front of the shop. A frown forms on your face when you see that Billy has set up on your desk, housing his lunch. There’s a matching sandwich across from him. 

“Jesus, Billy, I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

His throat works as he swallows. Your eyes drag down the length of his neck, all thick veins and lustrous skin. 

“And I told you I don’t give a fuck. Eat.”

A spark of anger rises to the forefront of your thoughts. You want to tell him not to boss you around, but you pause, feeling like that will only make you sound like a petulant child. You might as well stomp your feet and squeal. 

You sit down on your stool with a huff. You look Billy in the eye and rip the paper covering your sandwich. “Fuck you.”

Billy sucks something off the tip of his thumb and laughs through his nose.

“Do you have to be such a priss all the time?” he asks. “Just accept when people do shit for you. Say thank you or somethin,’ even.”

“Don’t worry, I promise I save all my prissiness for you, Hargrove.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Thank God for that.”

“What? I heard you talking up Mrs. Petersen earlier. Yes, ma’am. No ma’am. Of course ma’am. Do you need your feet rubbed, ma’am?”

“Funny.”

“You’re so good at wrapping everyone around your finger. It’s nauseating.”

“And you aren’t? You’d think you got some condition with how often you bat your eyelashes.”

“It’s called being nice? Customers are supposed to come back, not run screaming because one of you was a dick.”

Billy scoffs, shaking his styrofoam cup around. “That was quite literally one time.”

“You were a dick to that lady! She wrote a hate letter and copied it and then put it up outside the library and Benny’s and fuckin’ Melvald’s!”

“Oh, come on.” He says your name once more. There’s something about the way he says it that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like he might as well be whispering it directly into your ear. “You know she was a total bitch! She kept asking me if I was old enough to be working here and telling me that my hair was a safety hazard and that I should cut it. Then, when she asked where I was from and I told her, she said, and I quote, ‘Hawkins used to be a nice place. You west coasters are killing all the mom and pops.’ What does that have to do with me?”

You’re silent for a minute. You absolutely know he’s right. But do you want to admit that? No.

“She’s kind of right about your hair though. You always forget to tie it up. Even I wor—notice it when you’re under a car and cringe.”

You hope Billy hasn’t caught your slip up, but by the look on his face, he totally has. A smirk plays on his lips. She worries about me, it says. Before the conversation can go any further, you grab hold of his wrist where it’d been resting on the counter. His brows raise in confusion, less from the fact that it’s random and more because you’ve literally never touched him before. 

He watches as you roll a hair tie off of your forearm and onto his. You give it a playful snap once it’s settled at the joint of his wrist. “There,” you say. “No more excuses now, Hargrove. And thanks for the sandwich.”

He never noticed you take it, but when he snaps out of his daze brought on watching your hips sway as you walk away, it’s gone from where he left it.

————

Billy is worried. It’s past the time you could be even remotely late to work. You’re not there. You’re not at work.

He doesn’t second guess himself when he looks you up in the book—never having been given your number—and dials. Straight to voicemail. What the fuck?

It’s unlike you to just not show up. Surely you would’ve called out if something happened. But Billy asked around, and no one else on shift has heard a thing.

The phone at the front desk rings. Normally, you’d be the one to answer, but you’re not here. Billy hastily picks it up. 

“Roane Park Automotive, this is Billy.”

“Billy!”

He says your name, along with a slew of other curses. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you here?”

“Um, about that. Do you remember when I mentioned that my car wouldn’t start?”

“You mean when I tried to talk to you about it and you brushed me off?”

“Save it. Anyway, it broke down this morning. I thought I could fix it myself but my knowledge is limited to what my dad taught me—which it turns out, isn’t much. I had someone try to help me jump it off, but that didn’t work either. So I walked—

“You walked?”

“Let me finish! I walked to the nearest pay phone and well, here we are.”

“Keep your pretty little ass right where it is. I’m coming to get you.” 

“It’s fine, really. I just need a tow, I guess? I don’t know. I can call someone else or—

“Hush. Give me a landmark or something—I still haven’t learned the names of these damn roads.”

When Billy gets to you, he swears his head is gonna explode. You’re sitting on the hood of your car, swinging your legs. Swinging your legs. You’re driving him insane. He thinks he could be truly mad at you if you didn’t look so damn cute while doing the most obnoxious thing you could be doing. 

He calls your name and you wave from your seat, quickly sliding down to meet him. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he huffs.

You guffaw. “Okay, wow. What ever happened to hello?”

Billy opens your driver's side door and presses the switch to unlatch your hood. He’s popping it within seconds. “I fuckin’ told you to let me look at your car. You had me worrying my ass off up there, thinking something happened to you—”

“You were worried about me?”

Billy glares at you, his hand somewhere within the depths of your car. You might work in a shop, but you don’t know a thing when it comes to cars. 

“You never listen. You know how infuriating that is?” 

Of course he’s avoiding the question. 

“Why do you expect me to listen to you, Hargrove?”

The sound of metal on metal makes you cringe. “I don’t know, maybe cuz it’s basic fuckin’ decency to listen to people trying to help you?”

“Yeah, well some people are just assholes and not worth listening to.”

Billy straightens so fast you’re worried he’s gonna hit his head. You hate the way your arm jolts, wanting to protect him from injury. 

“Who are you calling an asshole, princess?”

You cross your arms. “I think you know who,” you say. 

Billy steps into your space, slamming the hood of your car shut so hard it makes you blink. Now's as good a time as any, he thinks. 

“You gonna tell me what the fuck your problem is already or just keep prancing around me for the rest of our lives?”

You roll your eyes. It infuriates him. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

“You’re just a prick, okay? You always have been! Ever since you showed up in Hawkins. You have this—this God complex!”

Billy has the nerve to laugh. Fully tosses his head back and laughs, slapping the side of your car. 

“So what, you went to school with me for a couple years and now we work together and you think you know me?”

“I know your kind, Billy! You’re all the fucking same!”

If possible, he gets even closer to you. “And what’s my kind, sweetheart?” 

“Oh, I think you know. Maybe we only went to high school together our last year, but this town is fucking small! I couldn’t escape you in college, even after I changed my major. You act like your shit doesn’t stink, Billy.”

He laughs again. 

“You listen to your loud music and there’s always a new mark on your neck, a new girl on your arm—usually the skinniest, bleach blonde girl—and you never spare anyone a glance if they’re not up to your standards. That I know. I wasn’t a cheerleader in high school and I wasn’t begging to suck your dick and I sure as hell didn’t fall for your reformed bad boy shit in college! You’re just another gorgeous guy who’s an absolute asshole.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Billy asks. He crosses his arms, mimicking you. It makes you want to slap him. Maybe kiss him stupid. 

“Oh, fuck off! That’s exactly what I mean! It’s all about reputation with guys like you, about notches on your belt or how many people you need to stomp on before people start calling you a king.”

When Billy reaches out to straighten your shirtsleeve from where it’s folded in on itself, you don’t flinch or even think about punching him. 

“I’m not a tyrant, babe. And have you ever, for just a second, considered that all that shit was a defense mechanism? Or does that not fit the bill you’ve got written up in that pretty little head of yours?”

You don’t say anything. Billy can see your brain recalculating.

Finally, “I don’t think being a prick calls for a healthy defense mechanism. Ever heard of therapy? Or like, fucking running? Or I don’t know! It’s always the pretty ones who are jack—”

Billy shuts you up the only way he can think to. The only way he’s wanted to for months. He kisses you. And he’s good at it. You start to lose yourself in it before the intelligent part of your brain sends alarm signals to the rest of you, making you pull away. One look at Billy has your knees going weak. 

His lips are swollen and this deep pink color that makes them look more enticing, if that’s even possible. His pupils are blown and the weight of his hand on the back of your neck is hypnotizing. 

“What?” he questions. You both just stare at each other for a moment. You smack him on the arm. It’s the only thing you could think to do. Billy looks down at his arm, his brows knitting together, and then back up at you. There’s the start of a grin on his face. 

He lets out an oomph sound when you grab his shirt collar and yank his mouth back to yours. He’s smiling into the kiss, letting out these little breathy laughs against your lips and when he slides a hand down your spine you swear you don’t know how you’ve lived your life thus far without knowing what it felt like to kiss Billy Hargrove. 

You kiss him hard, enough to express that you’re head over heels for him and can’t even find it in yourself to be angry about it. You pull away and take a few steps back. 

Billy is watching you, trying to figure out what your next move will be. He reaches out and swipes his thumb against the corner of your mouth. 

In an effort to put off discussing the fact that you just made out on the side of the road, you try to finish your argument from moments before. 

“You really did used to be an asshole, Billy. I couldn’t stand being around you, seeing how you treated everyone—I don’t know.”

Billy shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I was an asshole. But what I said about it being a defense mechanism was true. A shitty life made a shitty guy, you know? I’d hope you could tell that I’m not that guy anymore now, but clearly I still get under your skin.”

“It’s easier to fight with you than admit you can be that gorgeous and not a total dick and also that you can be those things and like me at the same time.”

Billy laughs lowly and steps back into your space. “I can do all that and more, pretty girl. Let me prove it to you.”

You let Billy kiss you again, slower this time. “I’ll think about it,” you say. Neither of you say anything for a moment. 

Billy chuckles under his breath. “Reformed bad boy.”

You swat him on the arm. “Leave me alone!” You giggle. 

“Your alternator’s fucked, by the way.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Come on. Get your ass in the car. You can fuss at me some more on the way back to the shop.”

“As long as you kiss me to shut me up again.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[jellybonbons]

Sweet Tooth or Sweet Cravings?

Kenji Sato x fem!reader

Summary: When a chocolate company sent Ken a PR package, he ate the chocolates without thoroughly inspecting them, and, well...things took an unexpected turn.

CW: 18+ (mdni), established relationship, aphrodisiac chocolates, implied panty sniffing, masturbation, fingering, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names.

Words: 1.5k

AN: this is just an excuse for me to write him like he's in heat :3

Today 4:12 PM

Ken <3: can you come home? its an emergency

The moment you saw his text, your heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, you clocked out early and made a beeline for the parking lot. You had never driven so fast in your life, and you were sure you almost broke the gas pedal from how hard your heels were pressing on it. 

The city streets blurred past you, your mind racing with worry and a thousand scenarios of what could have gone wrong. You barely noticed the honking horns or the changing traffic lights, and your focus was solely on getting to Ken as quickly as possible.

As you reached Ken's home, you punched in the code with shaking fingers, and the door swung open almost instantly. You dropped your bag near the entrance, not caring where it landed, and stumbled inside, quickly sliding off your heels as you hurried to find him.

Rounding the corner into the living room, you saw Ken from behind, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breath. "Ken, are you ok–" The sight caught you off guard. There he was, panting heavily, glistening with sweat, eyes half-closed as he stroked his cock. It stood proudly and flushed in a deep red colour. His other hand clutched your panty from this morning.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry you have to–fuck,” the moment he saw you, his body tensed, and with a guttural moan, he finally came, his cum coating his hand and abdomen.

As he sprawled against the couch, you took a moment to look around the living room. Your eyes landed on a box of half-eaten chocolates on the coffee table. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the box and examined it closely. The label read "Aphrodisiac Chocolates" in a small, elegant script. Realisation dawned on you, and you couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. Ken had unknowingly consumed aphrodisiacs, and now the situation made a lot more sense.

You sat down next to him on the couch, eyes wide with concern. "Ken, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I—I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect this... I think I overdid it with those chocolates."

"Those weren’t just chocolates, were they?"

"No, they were aphrodisiac chocolates. I didn’t check the label...clearly, I should have," he growled, frustration evident in his voice as he discarded your panty from his hand.

"Yeah, I can see that. It’s obvious they did more than just satisfy a sweet tooth," you smirked, leaning closer, your breath teasing against his ear.

"You’re not helping, you know." His eyes narrowed at you, a mix of frustration and desire burning within them.

Before you could respond, Ken, overwhelmed by the effects and your teasing, pulled you down onto him. He ground his hard-on between your thighs, his breath coming out in ragged bursts as he tried to find some relief.

"Ken, what—" You gasped, your voice filled with surprise.

"I need you. Right now. Please, help me." His voice was husky and urgent, his need unmistakable.

–

You lost track of time, the sky outside turning dark as the house became dimly lit. Your clothes were strewn everywhere, and he had taken you on every possible surface – from the coffee table to the expansive living room window overlooking the ocean, and now on his bed. 

He didn't hesitate for a moment, his desire insatiable. Somehow, he even managed to feed you the aphrodisiac chocolates during heated kisses, deepening the intensity of your connection with each touch and taste that seemed impossible to quench.

"Baby," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. He had your hands pinned against the headboard, his grip firm and unyielding. His chest pressed against your back, warm and solid, as his fingers delved into your wet cunt, moving with a relentless rhythm that left you breathless.

The squelching sound filled the room, adding to the erotic symphony that drove him even harder. Your back arched with every expert stroke, each thrust of his fingers hitting the perfect spot over and over, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Ken, wait!” you gasped, feeling a strange pressure building within you. “I feel like I’m gonna pee.”

He didn’t falter for a second, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm. “Just let go, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and command. “The sheets are already dirty anyway.”

His words and the relentless thrusting of his fingers broke down your resistance. With a cry of both pleasure and relief, you let go, your body trembling as you squirted, the sensation overwhelming. Ken’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he continued to work you through it, his fingers drenched in your release.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, his voice low and approving. “Just like that.”

As Ken finally released your hands, you let them slide down, resting them beside you—the dampness of the wet sheets clinging uncomfortably to your skin, causing you to grimace. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the rapid pace of your breathing, and allowed yourself a moment to regain composure.

Ken, still insatiable and eager, looked at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “It’s my turn now,” he said, his voice rough with need. You, sore and spent, protested weakly, “Baby, I’m so beat... I don’t know if I can handle much more.”

He silenced your concerns with a reassuring smile and a quick, decisive movement. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he said, his tone filled with confidence. With a firm grip, he lifted you effortlessly and positioned you on his lap, your legs spread and held against your chest. He manoeuvred you into a perfect angle and guided his hard cock to your still-sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, Ken, too deep!” you cried out, your voice trembling as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. Saliva dribbled from your lips, a testament to the intense pleasure and exhaustion.

Ken's voice was a low, teasing murmur against your ear. “But you love it when I go deep like this,” he cooed, his tone dripping with mockery. He squeezed you closer, his grip firm and possessive, restricting your movements and trapping you in place. 

The way he moved, controlling every motion and maximising your pleasure, made you feel like nothing more than his personal plaything, his fleshlight. Each powerful thrust sent your breasts bouncing. Your head leaned back against him, the sensation overwhelming as his movements were both demanding and dominant, ensuring you felt every inch of him, leaving you breathless and helpless under his command.

Finally, with a guttural groan that reverberated through the room, Ken’s body tensed, and a shudder ran through him as he reached his peak. His hot cum spilling deeply inside you, a wave of warmth that filled you completely.

He collapsed against you, his breath coming in deep, shuddering gasps as he buried his face in your hair, staying fully inside you. As he caught his breath, he managed to joke through his ragged breaths, “I think I’ll have to give that chocolate company a review —'5 stars for effectiveness!'”

You weakly slapped his arms, a small, affectionate smile tugging at your lips despite the fatigue. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, barely able to muster the energy to respond.

He then gently shifted his position, moving his hand to cup your chin and guide your face towards his. His eyes, soft and tender, met yours as he leaned in to press a gentle, affectionate kiss to your lips. 

Pulling back slightly, he whispered with a teasing smile, “But you love me.” 

“Unfortunately.” You responded with a playful sigh.

–

You were scrolling through your phone during lunch, your thoughts drifting as you ate, when a familiar company caught your eye. You paused, intrigued by a screenshot of a review with the username Notkensato07. The review was under a popular chocolate company, and as you read the lines, you couldn’t help but groan.

Notkensato07: ★★★★★

"Absolutely incredible! I tried the aphrodisiac chocolates and they were so effective, my girlfriend’s still recovering. If you want a taste of heaven—and maybe a little bit of chaos—this is your go-to. 5 stars, but if I could give it more, I would!

⤷ 241 replies

g0urmetguru: More than 5, huh? That’s some serious praise. I’m curious, how long did the effects last? Asking for a friend 😉

sillysocks76: IS THIS KEN SATO?

ChefRemyDaRat: Wow, talk about a rave review! If it’s that good, I’m buying a box for sure 🔥

chocolateroses: LMAOOO! I hope your girlfriend’s recovery is going well, man!

SweetToothSteve: Wow, this sounds wild! I’ve heard aphrodisiac chocolates are hit-or-miss, but this sounds like a game-changer. Guess I’ll be adding these to my shopping list!

jellybonbons: Nah, that’s cap.

  ⤷ chikinuggie: You’re just salty because you got no hoes.

   ⤷jellybonbons:  (comment removed for harassment) 

     ⤷jellybonbons: Wtf? why is my comment removed n not chikin for bullying?!

      ⤷ chikinuggie: The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

        ⤷ SweetToothSteve: Alright, kids, play nice! 😂

–

Shocked by the boldness of his review, you yelled out his name in disbelief, “SATO!”

Ken, who had been skipping around the living room as part of his exercise routine, froze mid-skip. The sudden outburst made him lose his rhythm, causing him to trip over his own feet. 

“Oh shit!”

Dividers by: @/chilumitos

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the repercussions to rinse away

buttercup, chapter nine

a/n: was shower sex at the very top of my list of things to include in the new chapters? fuck yeah it was, as it should be. double bingo because he'd also super hurt, but like in the slutty way that he does it (you know exactly what i'm talking about. just look at the gif i made right up there if you need a visual aid)

summary: “…I want to ask you about how this happened, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna tell me…” 

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, the black daredevil suit, hurt/comfort, injuries, blood, kissing, shower sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, impact play, pussyjob, thighjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, protected sex, penetrative sex, cockwarming

word count: 4163

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Knock, knock,” you hummed as you pushed open the door to Nelson and Murdock, peeking inside before you crossed the threshold completely. As your eyes flickered away from the empty offices, they then landed on the kitchenette off to the left where the only remaining employee stood. 

“Hey,” Matt twisted his head in your direction to flash you the soft smile that promptly blossomed on his lip, as the sound of your voice melted into him like sweet hot chocolate on his tongue, warming him from the inside. 

As his fingers went back to fixing himself a cup of coffee, extending to click on the electric kettle, you stepped closer before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“So…” you breathed, slightly tense as his lips faded from your skin, “…are you alright?” 

“Hm?” his brows knit together gently, “yeah, of course, I’m fine.” 

“Okay, good,” you leaned against the counter with an exhale, “it’s just when you didn’t show up last night, I got a bit worried.” 

“Shit,” he cursed sharply as it all came rushing back to him at once, “sweetheart, I’m sorry.” 

Since today had been an early morning shift for you, the plan had been for Matt to let himself into your apartment last night after his patrol, so that your paths could, at the very least, cross for a brief moment instead of waiting multiple days for your schedules to once again align. But instead of feeling the comfort of his presence slip into bed beside you, he never came, and even when you dragged yourself out of bed while it was still pitch black outside in order to make it to the bakery when the clock struck four, fear had swayed you to briefly peek inside of his neighbouring apartment, as a detour when you slipped out of your own, but he was still nowhere to be seen. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” you gracefully swallowed the lingering disappointment, “you probably just lost track of time, saving people who needed it, or just plain forgot,” you shared the theories you’d cooked up while you’d worked the early shift you’d clocked out of just before wandering over here, “or maybe we just missed each other, you got home right when I left, or maybe you didn’t wanna wake me up…” 

Grasping your hand as the kettle clicked beside him, now puffing with steam, he exhaled, “what can I do to make it up to you?” 

Pursing your lips as you thought through the options, you then suggested, “how about I sleep in your bed tonight,” your finger lightly poked his chest before catching his tie and gently running your thumb and forefinger down the silky strand, “and that way we won’t miss each other tomorrow?” 

“Deal,” he smiled, stealing a swift peck before he finished brewing his simple cup of coffee.

Though when his feet then began to shift across the floor for the first time since you’d stepped into the office, a furrow found your brow as you noticed how stiffly he was walking, carefully rounding the corner, mug clutched in one hand as the other palm trailed the wall on his way back to his own desk.  

“…why are you walking like that?” you tilted your head as you picked up on more of the obvious signs than just the pained facial expressions that he tried his best to suppress. 

“Like what?” he tried to act like a kid who hadn’t just been caught with their hand down the cookie jar. 

“Matthew…” your head faintly twisted from side to side as impatience overtook you and you continued to stare at him in concern, “don’t–…” 

“Don’t what?” he kept his tone innocent, though didn’t spin back to face your overflowing worry. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes narrowed before you uttered, “…take off your shirt.” 

However, he still went on shielding you from the truth as he instead plastered on a smirk and croaked, “alright, sure,” placing his cup down on his desk as he finally whirled around to face you, “if that’s a way I can make it up to you, but just so you know before you start stripping as well, Foggy and Karen will be back any second.” 

“Oh, stop! That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” you snapped, snuffing out his charm, “take it off,” you repeated firmly and watched as the faux grin finally dropped from his lips, “let me see.” 

Slowly, he reached up to tug at his tie, carefully slipping it over his head before his fingers began to work at the buttons down his crisp shirt and flickers of agony flashed across his features before it finally parted enough for you to see. 

“Oh, Matt…” you exhaled as you spotted the grievous wounds sporadically scattered across the sliver of his torso on display for you, all of them shielded behind blood-tainted bandages. 

“I’m okay,” he gently grasped your hands as your fingers reached out to trace a ghostly touch safely along the skin beside some of the injuries.  

“What happened?” you whispered as you tried to keep the reins on your imagination and not let it run wild. 

“Sweetheart, this is nothing–” 

“It doesn’t fucking look like nothing! Is this why you didn’t show up last night?” you asked before the guilty look that flashed across his features became all the answer you needed, “Matt…” 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered softly. 

“You should have called me, I could have come, instead of you just lying unconscious and bleeding out in an alley somewhere,” you pleaded quietly. 

“I wasn’t bleeding out in an alley,” he said, attempting to calm your erratic nerves, “Y/n, I’m fine, I promise. It looks a lot worse than it is.” 

“How did it even happen? Are you in danger? Is someone after you?” 

“It was nothing,” his head faintly shook from his to side as he tightened his grip on your hands, “baby, it was nothing, okay?”  

“…okay…” you hesitantly nodded, doing your best to let go of the fear still churning your stomach, “…you know, maybe it would be smart if I learned a little bit more about medicine since things like this are a much more common occurrence for you than I think I realised…” you blinked back down at his beaten and bruised skin, your fingertips briefly catching the hem of his open shirt. 

“I can teach you what I know,” he tilted closer, grasping your cheek before he pressed a kiss to your lips, “…so,” the corners of his mouth twisted upwards as he then shifted topics in an effort to distract you from the remainder of your worries, “was it a no then on the quickie before the others get back?” 

It was a stifled groan that woke you from your slumber. 

Slowly blinking your eyes open, as you layed curled on your side, alone in your boyfriend’s bed, you had to squint before you saw the figure on the other side of the apartment, sitting by the dining table in the dark. 

With his black mask dangling off the edge of the table, Matt’s fingers froze before they could reach back into the open first aid kit as his head tilted and he heard how your legs shifted slightly beneath the dove grey duvet as you woke up. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he called out quietly, keeping his back turned to you as he stayed still and tried to not let you notice what he was doing, “I’ll be there in a second.”

But instead, you sucked in a breath and crawled out of bed. Your soft nightgown unravelled and tumbled down around your thighs from where it had been gathered up around your waist while you were sleeping. 

A long sigh slipped from Matt when your bare feet neared him and his current state became impossible for him to hide. His tight black shirt was pushed up to his waist, exposing the wound just above his hip, one that you’d spotted earlier that day back in the office, though now it was no longer neatly bandaged, but instead slowly leaking blood as he worked at stitching it back closed. 

“Matt…” you breathed as your eyes flickered everywhere from his bloody nose to the small knicks that had sliced through the thin material of his shirt.

Bathed by the neon lights that leaked in through the tall windows behind him, he simply exhaled, “I’m fine,” as he reached for a clean cotton pad in the first aid kit and dabbed it against the wound he was patching back up, swiftly swallowing a grunt of pain as the gauze was slowly stained crimson. 

“You can’t keep saying that,” you pulled out the chair next to him and sank down, “tell me what to do.” 

“You don’t have to,” he gritted his teeth as he pierced the curved needle in his grasp through his skin one last time before tying the thread off with a tiny knot, “I can handle it myself–” 

“Matthew! Will you please just shut up and let me help?” you barked, finally cutting through his stubbornness before you watched an exhale slip from his lungs and his head slowly tilted in a nod, “thank you,” you huffed before scooting a bit closer, “now, please be honest this time, how bad is it?” 

“I promise, it’s not that bad,” he uttered as his hand that clutched to cotton wad kept on putting some pressure over the freshly closed-up laceration.

“Do you need any more stitches anywhere else?” your eyes kept on scanning his bruised body, noting as he spoke the bloody gash that split up his lip. 

“No, it was just this one that popped back open,” he carefully took the swab away from the wound with tender dabs, the needle that still dangled from the thread swung gently from the friction, “I just need to get cleaned up, maybe a few bandages and I’ll be fine,” he tried to flash you a smile, though the brave face didn’t help the way that he’d hoped. 

All he could hear was how fast your pulse was beating as you stared at him, tears threatening to spring forth as your heart nearly burst straight out of your chest. 

“Y/n,” his hand swiftly found your own, “hey,” he uttered gently, “take a breath… take a breath…” his head faintly nodded in soft encouragement as he steered you to finally fill your lungs properly. 

As your shoulders finally began to relax, you felt him let go of your palm again before his fingers went back to work. 

“What do you need me to do?” you asked once more. 

Tilting his head towards the first aid box, he murmured, “you can grab the scissors.” 

And as you grasped it, you watched as he then leaned back in the chair, a jagged breath slipping from his lungs as he shifted, before he plucked up the dangling needle and held it out for you to snip the thread. 

“Like that?” you asked once you’d cut through the thin cord, nervous that you’d somehow messed the small task up. 

But as he brushed his fingertips against the short string that remained at the end of the row of stitches he’d knotted, the corner of his lip twitched as he uttered, “perfect,” before he carefully tugged his shirt back down over his stomach. 

A long exhale escaped Matt as he finally let himself relax and fall back down from the highs the events of his night had brought him to. For a while, you both just sat there in silence as he sank further into the serenity he’d made his way back to. 

But then, as his eyes fluttered closed, you parted your lips and uttered, “…I want to ask you about how this happened, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna tell me…” 

Face briefly threatening to scrunch up at the frustration that bubbled up in him, he muttered, “sweetheart–”

“But I just wanna say that even though I know why you don’t like to talk to me about the details,” you cut him off before he had the chance to stop you, “sometimes it doesn’t protect me, sometimes my active imagination takes a hold and tries to fill in the blanks in ways that are surely so much worse than the reality…” 

Sucking in a breath, a second passed before he said, “…you really wanna know?” 

“Yes,” you swiftly nodded, leaning in a tad closer in your seat. 

Sitting up a bit more, he planted a forearm for support on the table before he began to tell you, “a few weeks back I intervened in this trafficking deal, two dozen women and kids, ready to be shipped off like lambs at the slaughter,” his hand gestured alongside his words, “turns out it was connected to something much bigger than I had thought,” he exhaled before uttering, “do you know who Joseph Giordano is?” 

“I don’t think so,” you murmured slowly, “why?”

“He is next in line to the throne in the Giordano crime family.”

Your brows then knit together as you blinked back at him, “…are you saying that there’s an entire mob after you right now?” 

“Well, I don’t know if they’re after me, I’ve just pissed them off a few times,” he tried to downplay his situation in order to calm your nerves that began to pick back up again, thumping in his ears like the booming base at a club. 

“Is that what happened tonight? You pissed them off again?” you looked once again to how hurt he was before he begrudgingly began to nod his head faintly, “…so, how worried should I be?”

“It's nothing I can’t handle,” he uttered as his years of experience shined clear through his tone. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I am so close to putting a stop to them, all of them, making them pay for all the shit that they’ve done,” his sentence culminated in a heated huff before he let it go. Carefully rising from his seat, he briefly flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he changed the subject, “I’m gonna go clean up, you head back to bed.”

“No, I’ll–,” you swiftly stood up as well, “let me give you a hand.” 

Pausing just before he began to shift close to the bathroom, he then murmured, “alright,” before he let you grab his palm and shadow him with every careful step. 

Reaching an arm into the shower, you turned on the water so that it could begin to rise to a temperature that wasn’t like having snow dumped down over you. As you twisted back around, you spotted Matt’s features, faintly screwed up, as he cautiously peeled his shirt off, though before it could slip over his head, your fingers caught the tail end of it.

As you dropped it down on the edge of the sink, Matt’s hands found his belt, although before his nimble fingers could begin to undo it, your own touch landed upon his own before his palms slipped out from under yours and he let you take over. 

First, you kneeled down before him and slipped off his boots, pushing them off to the side before you straightened back up to undo his pants, gently tugging them alongside his dark boxers. 

As you rose back up with the last of his black vigilantly suit in hand, your partner’s wide palms naturally found your waist in a soft graze, before your fingers then drifted to the hem of your nightgown and he felt the fabric slip beneath his touch as you pulled it over your head.

Dropping it down on the top of his own clothing, piled up on the edge of the sink, you then grabbed his hand once again before your feet began to shuffle against the tile, backing up till you were both in the shower. Twisting you both around, you slowly guided him under the drizzle of water, still holding his palm in yours as it began to rain down on his battered form. 

The water turned a ruddy shade as it cascaded over his body and gently washed the blood away. Gingerly, you let your fingers ghost over his injuries, being careful as you helped clean them. His eyes fluttered closed when your touch floated up from his chest to his jaw before you softly swept over the crimson that had dried in a trickled path from the gash on his forehead, his nostrils from the blow his nose evidently had taken, as well as from the small cut on his lip that had begun to puff it up slightly. 

Gliding your hands down to his hips, you gently guided him around for his broad back to face you. As your hands skimmed over the fresher damages, your touch couldn’t help but slow as you blinked back at the gnarly old scars that split up his skin. You’d likewise been staring at the ones all over the rest of his flesh as your touch swept across his body, but as he stood, facing away from you, the intimate graze of your fingertips couldn’t help but slide up and trace the long marks. 

You barely realised that you’d stopped your aiding efforts till it was just your thumb lightly brushing against one of his scars, back and forth in short swoops, before you closed the short distance and pressed a tender peck to the middle of his spine. 

Though as your touch slowly returned to their work, his hand suddenly snatched up one of yours. His feet shifted slightly, angling him only partly back to face you, he raised your palm up as he bowed his head to meet the back of it and press your hand to his lips. 

Ripping your gaze away from his broad back as it slowly twisted away from you, it swiftly drifted up to Matt’s features, faintly wistful as he planted the soft peck to the back of your palm. When he came to face you once again, his other hand swept up your frame till it came to cup your cheek. 

A soft breath flowed from his nostrils before he uttered, “I love you…” in a tone that made it sound as if he was thanking you, before he then tilted your face up as he bent down to gently press his lips to your own. 

For a while, he kissed you as if he was trying to make time itself stop, as it stretched on, slow and smouldering, light on your lips. But then, while the hand he had on your cheek stayed in place, the other one let go of your palm and drifted down around your waist, gently caressing your side before his fingers slightly dented your skin as he drew you in closer and the light pecks morphed and deepened so slowly that you barely registered the change he had initiated till your tongue was suddenly dancing heatedly against his own. 

His touch on the side of your face soon faded as it instead slipped down the landscape of your body and a heavy intake of air rushed in through his nose as the kiss then grew more desperate. Though as you hugged him closer, careful with your touch, a quiet gasp suddenly bubbled up your throat as his frame finally pressed flush up against your own and you felt the hardness that now poked you in your stomach. 

“Matty…” you breathed in between ravenous pecks as his cock throbbed against your skin. 

A low groan rumbled in his chest as his wide palms then swooped down over the curve of your ass, briefly digging his touch into your softness and making your cunt clench around nothing, before his knees then bent slightly and his hard length slotted in between your thighs, perfectly slipping against your pussy. 

Letting the devil out, Matthew then let himself rut against your folds, a gravelly grunt rolling off his tongue as he momentarily rested his forehead against your own.  

“O-oh, fuck…” you moaned as his hardness continued to nudge against you, parting your slick petals with his fat girth. Hazily tilting your head back at the feeling, you soon felt his lips flutter down your neck, “Matt…” 

Though your pants continued to grow unanswered as your partner only growled in response before one of his hands soared up to capture your jaw and tilt your head for your lips to come crashing back against his own in a feverish kiss.  

Shifting your frame, he then brought your legs closer together till the softness of your thighs hugged around his length still slotted against your pussy. With his hold still digging into the softness of your bottom, he then began to fuck your thighs, though with each needy thrust he granted himself, the details of his cock still dragged against your buzzing clit and made you whimper against his kiss. 

And when you were both on the verge of exploding, nearly too pent up to keep your balance on the wet tile floor, he hastily reached an arm out of the shower and grabbed a condom from the medicine cabinet. Snatching it from his hands, you panted as you rolled it on him, briefly raising yourself up to stand on your toes to steal a breathless peck from him as your fingers twisted the latex into place, granting him a soft stroke once you’d finished. 

Long moans drew forth from both of you when he slowly slid inside, his forehead melting down against your own as he paused at the very tip, letting your cunt clench around his girth a moment before gradually giving you more in shallow thrusts. 

Whimpering to the rhythm of his steady pace, you blinked up at him and panted, “I love you,” before he then crashed his lips against your own. Tilting your hips slightly as he gently rocked inside of you, slowly dragging his cock out of your pussy, most of the way, till he dove himself back in once more, each time burying himself a little deeper than before. 

Your palms slid up his burly chest before your touch tangled around his neck, holding on tight as his desperate grunts melted against your tongue. Matt’s grasp, still on your ass, dented your flesh further as he then began to move your body for you, dragging your hips closer to meet his bucks and grant him the angle to go even deeper, filling you up till your eyes rolled in your skull. His hands swiftly tapped against your butt as he found a greedy pace, one that caused your pussy to sing sinfully over the splashing of the showerhead still pouring down over the both of you. 

The next thing you knew, Matthew then snapped, losing the last bit of self-control he had left after the long night he’d had, and drowned himself completely in the one pleasure that his soul ached for. Feverishly, he suddenly plucked you up off the wet tile, his fat length still nestled deep within you as he picked you up into his arms. 

“Oh my god,” you yelped as he rooted his strong hold under your ass, “wait, no,” your nails instinctively dug into the nape of his neck, “you’re hurt–”

But he only cut you off with a quiet, “shh…” as his nose brushed against your own before he uttered in a gravelly tone, “trust me when I say, I can take a lot more than this when I’m way worse off.” 

And with you in his arms, he then readjusted his grip on you, briefly tossing you up a smidge, before he then sank you back down onto his cock, plugging you up till you couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan as your brain momentarily went blank in the ecstasy.  

Toes curling, you whimpered, “j-just be careful,” as you spread out your fingers till they weaved through the short hair at the back of his head. 

But rather than of playing it safe like you begged him to, he instead just tightened his hold on you as he growled, “I’ll be careful later,” before he then went to town, pounding away till the showerhead above wasn’t the only thing gushing. 

And when Matt finally came undone, after you began to fear he might not snap out of his ravenous haze till the sun rose, fucking your pussy till you could no longer stand on your own two feet, your spine was plastered against the tile wall as his head melted down against your shoulder. The shower went on running as he kept you in his arms, both of you panting as he granted himself the gift of staying warm inside your fluttering cunt even longer and further drawing out the bliss to balance out the night that he had endured. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[psformybss]

idk if this is exactly what you wanted but i saw you wanted drew fluff ideas so here! (sorry if its bad lols)

you should write a story about drew and his love interest's actor on obx and how they instantly click when they first meet and decide to move in together while filming is going on, and they become like really really close best friends and fans and the rest of the cast are always shipping them but they tell everyone they are "just friends" even when they fall asleep cuddling sometimes, and reader wears drews clothes all the time (and stuff like that) and then they slowly start to realize they have fallen for eachother. drew takes her on one of their late night drives and confesses his feelings for her and she tells him that she feels the same

again idk if this is bad but its just an idea :) feel free to ignore!

More Than Just Friends

drew starkey x co!star!reader

a/n: i'm back y'all. i loved this idea so much cause i love slow burn/friends to lovers trope. idk if this is my best work tho not writing for a week really made me rusty lol

The conference room door lets out a soft creak as you push it open, just loud enough to cut through the hum of conversation. The noise inside doesn’t vanish—just dips, like a ripple across the surface of still water. Not silence. Not drama. Just that fleeting, collective pause when a new presence is clocked and measured.

Still, you smile. Like your heart isn’t pressing against your ribs, like your palms aren’t a little too warm. You step inside with practiced ease, letting the door fall shut behind you.

The air is thick with the scent of burnt coffee and freshly printed paper. The room is bigger than you expected, sunlit and echoey, the kind of bright that makes your eyes adjust. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast long streaks of light across the polished table that stretches through the center of the space, already cluttered with highlighters, half-empty water bottles, branded OBX pens, and a chaos of cords and chargers that look like territorial markers.

You spot your name card at the far end and start the awkward dance of slipping between chairs and elbows, offering polite nods as you go.

“Look who finally made it,” Madison calls out, her voice lilting with amusement. She’s sprawled in her seat like a queen surveying her court, sunglasses pushed into her hair, iced coffee in hand, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Smug, radiant.

“I’m right on time,” you reply, lifting a brow. “Bet you ten bucks I’m still earlier than JD.”

“Wrong,” JD announces from behind her, voice theatrical. “Already here. Already disappointed.”

You glance over to find him lounging with full commitment—legs spread, chair tipped slightly back, Gatorade in hand, script unopened like it personally offended him.

“Alright, alright,” Chase mumbles from the far end, flipping pages without looking up. “Let her breathe before you scare her off.”

“You think I scare people?” JD feigns innocence, widening his eyes.

“You terrify me,” Madison deadpans, drawing out a round of quiet laughter.

You finally reach your seat—and pause.

He’s already there.

Drew.

He’s settled into the chair beside yours, legs stretched out, ankle resting on one knee. His script is open across his lap, pen between his teeth as he skims the page with a relaxed kind of focus. When he senses you, his eyes lift.

He grins. Not a stranger’s grin. Not polite or obligatory. It’s the kind that tugs at something inside you. Familiar. Knowing.

“There she is,” he says, voice warm, edged with teasing. “Guess I’m stuck with you now.”

You slide into your seat, dropping your bag at your feet. “Was that a compliment or a complaint?”

He leans an inch closer, the kind of lean that makes the space between you hum. “Depends how today goes.”

You shouldn’t feel this at ease. You’ve only met him once—during your chemistry read two weeks ago—but it stuck. The way your lines had synced without trying. The way he’d texted after like you were already mid-conversation. Not flirty. Just...attentive. Like he was curious about you in a quiet, persistent way.

You open your script and try not to notice how close his elbow is to yours.

“Nice of you to show up,” Madelyn says from across the table, nudging a bag of pretzels in your direction. “We were about to start placing bets.”

“I already placed mine,” Rudy adds. “Said she’d be late but would style it out like a pro.”

You shoot him a look. “And?”

He shrugs. “You were cool about it.”

The door swings open again. Austin strolls in, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed, coffee clutched in one hand, hoodie halfway on. “Did we start?”

“Do we ever start on time?” Chase doesn’t even look up.

“Touché,” Austin mutters, dropping into the seat beside Rudy.

The door opens once more and this time it’s the director, followed closely by the showrunner and a handful of writers. The shift is immediate. Spines straighten. Phones are pocketed. Scripts snap open.

“Alright, everyone,” the director calls out, clapping his hands once. “Episode One. Let’s dive in.”

Voices layer together as the read begins. A stumble here, a laugh there. JD plays his part with extra dramatics, earning snorts. Madison’s delivery is razor-sharp without breaking a sweat. Chase barely glances at the script, like it’s already been carved into his brain.

You ease into your role with steady confidence. No fireworks. Just setting the rhythm.

Until they call it—your first scene with Drew.

Your name. His. Episode Two, Scene Four.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you.

No smirk this time. Just a subtle nod, the kind that says, we’ve got this.

The air shifts.

The dialogue between your characters is electric—sharp, flirt-heavy, a verbal chess match where no one really wants to win. You toss your lines like punches, and he parries every one with practiced ease.

“You always talk this much?” you say, tone dry, eyebrow lifted.

Drew doesn’t miss a beat. “Only when I like the company.”

The table goes still for half a breath, then laughter bubbles under the surface, but it doesn’t break the moment. You’re in it. Fully. The rhythm comes easy, like the words aren’t from the page but from your own lips. He plays with the cadence of one line, and it hits different—enough that your smile almost slips in.

He watches you, even when it isn’t his turn to speak. Not intensely. Not in a way that feels staged. Just...like he’s listening. Really listening.

When the scene ends, the silence stretches longer than usual.

Someone exhales. Probably Chase.

“Well, damn,” Rudy mutters. “Guess we don’t have to worry about chemistry.”

“I thought you two were already sleeping together,” JD blurts out.

Madison swats his arm. “Shut up. But, yeah. That was good.”

The director grins. “Alright, let’s take five. Hydrate. Shake it out.”

You stand slowly, your hands still buzzing. Madison appears at your side before you’ve even stepped away.

She leans in. “You two read like you’re already in love.”

You keep your voice casual. “He’s just good at what he does.”

She smirks. “Uh-huh.”

Across the room, Drew catches your eye again. He’s still in his seat, still holding that pen, spinning it between his fingers. He smiles, slower this time.

You look away last.

It’s just a scene. Just a read.

But something lingers.

The scent of smoke and salt rides the breeze, mingling with the faint sweetness of sunscreen and something vaguely citrus—maybe someone’s drink. The sand crunches beneath your sneakers as you step onto the beach, drawn toward the flicker of the bonfire glowing in the distance like a beacon.

Someone had floated the idea earlier—JD, most likely. Maybe Rudy. A night off, no call sheets, no early reports, and the first of shooting finally over. Just fire and sky and a chance to be young and loud under the stars.

You spot the group before they spot you. The fire throws warm light across their faces—Chase waving smoke away from his hair, Madison curled up on a blanket with marshmallows in her lap, JD strumming a ukulele like it wronged him personally.

And then there’s Drew.

He’s sitting with his back to the fire, beer bottle loose in his grip, legs stretched out in the sand. He’s laughing at something Madelyn’s saying, head tilted, flannel shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from the wind.

It hits you—how easy this all feels. Like it’s always been this way.

Madelyn sees you and waves, her smile wide. “Hey! You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you call, making your way across the sand.

You settle near the edge of the group, close enough for the warmth, far enough to avoid the smoke’s path.

Drew turns, and the moment he sees you, something shifts behind his expression. Softer. Brighter.

“There she is,” he says. “You almost missed JD’s ukulele rendition of ‘Wonderwall.’”

You raise a brow. “Tragic.”

Madelyn snorts. “Don’t worry, he’s got a whole encore planned.”

“I do not,” JD protests, plucking a dramatically sour note.

The night blurs into motion—laughter, marshmallows catching fire, drinks passed hand to hand, the hum of acoustic music weaving in and out of conversation.

When a chill skims over your skin, you shiver before you can stop it.

Drew notices.

Without a word, he shrugs off his flannel and hands it to you. You hesitate, but he just lifts a brow like don’t argue. So you pull it on.

It’s warm. Smells like bonfire and soap and something faintly musky that might be his cologne. You let yourself sink into it.

“You do this for all your co-stars?” you ask.

“Only the ones pretending they’re fine.”

He settles beside you, elbows resting on his knees, shoulder brushing yours.

The fire cracks. The ocean rolls quietly behind the noise. And the two of you—without meaning to—find a bubble of silence between it all.

He tilts his head toward you. “What’d you want to be when you were little?”

You blink. “Random.”

“Go.”

“Broadway set designer,” you say. “You?”

“Astronaut.”

You laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Wanted the helmet.”

The questions keep coming. Silly ones. Real ones. You talk about movies and fears and favorite snacks. He listens like every answer matters. And when he talks, it’s unguarded, honest.

At some point, he leans back, eyes on the sky. “You feel like someone I’ve known longer than a week.”

You glance at him. “Yeah. You too.”

Madelyn walks past with a smug grin. “Just friends, huh?”

“Of course,” Drew says smoothly.

You just smile. Because no one says otherwise. But the flannel stays on your shoulders. And his shoulder stays right there beside yours.

The night settles around you, soft and endless. And whatever this is—it feels like the start of something. Quiet. Unspoken.

But real.

A few days later, the afternoon clings to your skin, thick with humidity. The air on set is heavy, as if the ocean breeze gave up trying to reach you. Sunlight glints off metal light rigs and bleaches the world into a palette of soft golds and heatwaves. You're perched on the edge of a weathered crate, script limp in your lap, words blurring in the warmth. Your focus is fractured — eyes skimming dialogue while your thoughts drift elsewhere.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Instinctive. Quick. You check it.

It’s the plumber.

You press it to your ear, already bracing.

His voice is apologetic, laced with static and something far more frustrating — uncertainty. The plumbing in the Airbnb is worse than expected. The repairs will take longer than they thought. No promises, no estimates. Just a vague “could take a while.”

Your stomach clenches. You nod even though he can’t see it and murmur your thanks before hanging up. You drop the phone into your lap like it’s burned you.

That’s when Drew walks by. He’s headed toward the craft services table, a bottle of water dangling from one hand, his other swiping at the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake off the heat. His gaze lands on you — instinctive, precise — and he changes course without hesitation.

He drops down beside you, thigh brushing yours, and just like that, the air feels easier to breathe.

“You alright?” he asks, voice low enough that it doesn’t ripple past the two of you.

You hesitate, eyes still fixed on the gravel at your feet. “The plumbing at my place. It’s a mess. No idea when it’ll be fixed.”

He watches you for a moment, brows pulling together. “You’re still staying at the Airbnb?”

“Yeah.” You exhale. “It’s… not ideal.”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you glance over. Drew runs a hand through his hair, already ruffled from the heat, then turns to you with a kind of simple certainty that catches you off guard.

“You don’t have to do that by yourself.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’ve got space. A whole extra room I’m not using.” He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “Move in. Just until it’s fixed. I mean, if you want.”

He says it casually, but there's something solid underneath it — like the offer comes from somewhere deeper than convenience.

You search his face, and for once, don’t find anything but sincerity.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.” He grins, that crooked one that always makes your chest feel a little lighter. “You’d be closer to set. And, selfishly, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

For a second, the weight you’ve been carrying lifts. Just a bit.

You nod slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, nudging your knee gently with his. “You’ll fit right in.”

Drew pushes open the door and gestures you in with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome home.”

Inside, the apartment is an organized mess — the kind that’s lived in, not neglected. Sand-dusted sneakers line the entryway. A pile of half-folded laundry claims one end of the couch. On the coffee table, a jigsaw puzzle sprawls between empty mugs and dog-eared scripts. The air smells like sea salt and cinnamon candles, like home that doesn’t try too hard.

You drop your bag by the door and let it all wash over you.

That night, you end up on the couch with Drew, a half-watched movie flickering across the screen. The throw blanket slides from your shoulders and before you even reach for it, he tucks it gently around you. His arm brushes yours, and neither of you moves away.

Your feet find his beneath the blanket. He doesn’t flinch.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he says, soft enough to be missed if you weren’t already listening for him.

You tug his hoodie tighter, the scent of his laundry detergent warm against your skin. “Me too.”

The days begin to blur, soft edges folding into something warm and familiar.

Mornings start with shared coffee and overlapping playlists. Grocery runs turn into minor battles — you reach for spinach, he tosses in Oreos. You call him dramatic for choosing the worst cereal, he accuses you of being a health nut. The checkout clerk smiles like she’s seen this a hundred times.

Nights belong to movies and stolen fries and blankets that never quite stay in place. You curl closer without thinking. He never pulls away.

His hoodie becomes yours — unofficially at first. It spends more time on your frame than in his closet, the sleeves always too long, the neckline soft from wear. You tell yourself it’s because the AC is too cold, but even you don’t believe that.

The apartment pulses with cast energy — Rudy’s storytelling echoing down the hallway, Madelyn’s laughter spilling from the kitchen, JD’s endless commentary on whatever game is on. It’s chaotic, imperfect, and somehow… right.

In between the noise and routine, there’s this quiet thread that winds between you and Drew — unspoken but steady.

Weeks have blurred together, and by now, the trailer feels like a second skin. When you step inside, both hands wrapped around a to-go cup like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, everything is just as it’s been for days. The early morning sunlight slips through the narrow windows, catching the same gold flecks in the mirrors, casting that familiar hazy glow across the space. The air carries the usual mix of hairspray and coffee — a scent that’s settled into the walls — and the soft playlist humming in the background might as well be on an endless loop, queued up long before the sun even thought about rising.

You collapse into your usual chair with a yawn and nod at the makeup artist, who greets you with a knowing smile.

“Rough morning?”

“Does it show?” you mumble, taking another sip.

She laughs. “Natural today?”

You nod, already zoning out as the brush glides across your cheek.

Madison lounges on the bench behind you, still half-asleep, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands as she scrolls through her phone. She glances up.

“Did you seriously walk out in his hoodie again?”

You glance down — the familiar grey fabric is draped across you, soft and oversized. You hadn’t even thought about it. It had been slung over the stool from last night, right where Drew left it after your terrible Netflix shark movie marathon.

You sip your coffee again, hoping the heat hides the way your cheeks flush.

Madison smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you can reply, the trailer door swings open and lets in a blast of voices. JD and Chase barrel in mid-debate, the kind only they could be this passionate about at seven a.m.

“Ketchup on eggs should be illegal,” JD announces dramatically.

Chase barely glances up. “You’re wrong and uncultured.”

You lift your coffee cup. “Morning to you too.”

JD points at you like he’s just remembered something vital. “You and Drew playing house again?”

You roll your eyes, digging for your foundation sponge. “We watched a movie. That’s it.”

Madelyn drifts over, sipping tea. “A movie that required your feet to be in his lap?”

Chase spits out his drink. “Wait, what?”

“Rudy told me.”

You snort. “Rudy wasn’t there.”

Madelyn just shrugs. “Rudy knows things.”

The trailer door opens again, and in steps Drew — hoodie half-zipped, curls a mess, smoothie in hand. He pauses just inside as the air shifts, the teasing still fresh on everyone’s faces.

His eyes find yours instantly. There’s a subtle softening in his expression — like the chaos doesn’t matter, not when you’re here.

“You left without me this morning,” he says, moving to the chair beside you.

“You were passed out with a cereal box on your chest,” you reply, grinning. “Didn’t want to disturb art.”

Laughter bubbles around the trailer.

“You two are disgusting,” Chase groans.

“Right?” Madison adds. “They have a fruit bowl. A fruit bowl.”

You laugh. “It’s barely a bowl. It’s chipped and was five bucks at the antique shop.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you argued about cereal for twenty minutes,” JD points out.

Drew sips his smoothie, unbothered. “And I was right.”

You smirk. “It’s just sugar and regret.”

“You love it,” he murmurs, and you feel it — that shift. That pulse in the air that always tightens your chest a little too much.

Chase pokes your arm. “You’re wearing his shirt again.”

Drew answers before you can. “Her shirt now.”

Madelyn gasps. “I’m begging you — just kiss already.”

“If you two fall asleep on the couch again, I’m charging rent,” JD adds.

You laugh — but it comes out soft. Tentative.

You glance at Drew.

He’s already looking at you. And beneath the usual teasing spark in his eyes, there’s something quieter. Something that stays with you even when you look away.

“We’re just friends,” he says.

But the words feel like a stone tossed into still water — quiet, but rippling outward.

“They’re just messing around,” you say to him under your breath later, as everyone scatters for rehearsal.

“I know.” He hesitates. “But I don’t care what they say.”

You glance up.

“I like this,” he says. “I like us. You make this feel easier.”

Your throat tightens. You nod, barely whispering: “Me too.”

And then you’re swept into the current again — called to set, scripts in hand, pretending to be someone else. But somewhere between lines and takes, you find his eyes across the room.

And it still feels like home.

Time moves differently now — days folding into each other, marked only by small, quiet rituals. Hours ago, the trailer buzzed with the hum of early morning. Now, the apartment is thick with the scent of cinnamon and browned butter, warm and heady, curling through the air like a promise.

Sunlight, deeper now, spills through the kitchen window in rich, honeyed beams, cutting through the steam rising off the griddle and painting the countertops gold. The rush of earlier hours has faded. This moment feels suspended — still, glowing, unrushed — as if the day itself is taking a long breath.

You stand barefoot on cool tile, hair twisted up in a loose knot that’s barely holding on, sleeves pushed to your elbows. There’s a smudge of flour on your cheekbone that you don’t know about, and batter stains the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing—his t-shirt. The fabric brushes against your thighs when you move, clinging slightly from the kitchen’s warmth.

From Drew’s phone on the counter, a lazy Sunday playlist hums along—soulful, smooth, a little ridiculous. “Return of the Mack” starts up, and like clockwork, he’s sliding across the floor in socks, shoulders rolling dramatically as he dances his way back into the kitchen.

You don’t turn. Just flip a pancake with practiced ease. “Don’t quit your day job.”

Behind you, he gasps. “Rude. This is elite choreography. You’re witnessing greatness.”

You bite back a grin. “It’s a health hazard.”

“No,” he says, coming up behind you, “it’s joy.”

He’s close now. Close enough that you can feel the ghost of his body heat brushing your back. He bumps your hip with his as he reaches around to grab a banana slice off the cutting board, snickering when you elbow him lightly in protest.

“Back off. This is a sacred space.”

“I’m assisting,” he says, as if holding a title. “Sous-chef.”

“You assisting means I’ll be cleaning banana off the ceiling in twenty minutes.”

“I bring the vibes,” he says proudly, grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

“You bring chaos.”

He smirks, unbothered. The music’s louder now, and the morning has a pulse to it—warm and bright and just a little bit unsteady.

You flip another pancake, lean down to grab a clean plate from the lower cabinet—and forget, for one stupid second, how close your hand is to the edge of the hot pan.

The hiss comes first.

Then the sting.

“Shit—ow. Shit.”

Before the pain even fully registers, Drew’s beside you. His easygoing rhythm halts completely, brows drawn tight as he catches your wrist. “What happened?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to wave it off, but he doesn’t listen. He gently, but firmly, guides your hand under the faucet and turns the water on cold.

The stream rushes over your finger, and you hiss again, this time more from surprise than pain. His hand covers yours, thumb resting lightly on your wrist to keep it steady.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice lower now, the music behind you fading into a background hum. The air’s changed. Still, but charged.

You nod, blinking. “Yeah. I’ve done worse. Just a dumb mistake.”

“It’s not dumb.”

The way he says it makes you pause. And before you can respond, he lifts your hand—slowly, gently—and presses a kiss to the tip of your burned finger.

It’s feather-light. Barely there.

But it might as well be a lightning strike.

Your breath stalls. Eyes catch. And for a beat too long, you’re both completely still.

His hand stays on yours.

Neither of you speak.

The moment hovers, thick and quiet, like the breath before a confession.

And you can’t take it.

You laugh—too loud, too fast—and turn away, pretending the bloom of heat under your skin isn’t from him.

“I’m retiring from the kitchen,” you joke, shaking off the silence. “Clearly, I can’t be trusted near appliances.”

Drew smiles, but it lingers slower this time, a little softer. “Guess that makes me head chef. Hope you like cereal.”

You smile back, letting the moment dissolve like sugar in tea.

But when he passes you the syrup, your fingers graze—and neither of you pulls away right away.

The weeks blend together after that. Routines settle in quietly, like they were always meant to be there. Shared mugs in the cabinet. His hoodies folded into your laundry. Your shampoo in the shower next to his, your snacks hidden behind the cereal boxes he swears are sacred.

You stop counting the days. And so does he.

The cast still teases you both—but now it’s gentle, like they’ve decided this thing, whatever it is, doesn’t need labeling. Like maybe it’s obvious.

Tonight, the apartment smells like sandalwood and yesterday’s pizza. Filming ran late. Your limbs ache from sun and repetition and adrenaline. You’d both crashed on the couch, limbs draped over each other without thought.

His arm is wrapped low around your waist, steady, grounding.

Your head rests on his chest, listening to the even rhythm of his breathing, soft against the static of the TV. His sweatshirt smells like detergent and skin. His legs are tangled with yours beneath the blanket.

The movie’s long over. The credits have faded. Outside, the sky is bleeding pale pink through the curtains.

You should move. You know you should.

But the shape of you against him feels too easy. Too much like home.

You open your eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. His jaw is the first thing you see—clean lines, soft in sleep. Lashes fanned against his cheek. One hand still rests at your hip, fingers curved gently like they belong there.

You trace him with your eyes, careful not to move. Every breath deepens the ache in your chest, that quiet, persistent pull you’ve stopped pretending not to feel.

Then—he shifts.

Just a little. Barely conscious. His hand tightens at your waist. A slow exhale warms your forehead.

His voice, when it comes, is scratchy and half-asleep.

“This is nice.”

You freeze. Then nod, your cheek brushing his chest. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”

Neither of you moves.

Not for a long time.

The sun climbs higher. And when you finally drift off again, curled tighter into his side, there are no dreams.

You don’t need them.

You’re already there.

The day is hot, the kind of southern heat that clings to your skin like humidity and sunburn. The set is between takes, the crew scattered like lazy shadows across grass and folding chairs. Someone’s blasting a speaker. Chase and Rudy toss a football like they haven’t been sweating for hours in full costume.

You’re half-asleep on a picnic blanket, legs outstretched, head tucked against Drew’s shoulder. You don’t remember when it happened—just that he was next to you, and then you were there, leaning into him like your body remembered what your mind hadn’t admitted yet.

His arm is around you. Protective. Unmoving.

He’s asleep too.

You’re both still when JD walks by with his camera. He never stops taking pictures. You’re used to it now. You barely register the click.

It isn’t until hours later—after the scene is wrapped, your wardrobe changed, and your phone vibrates five times in a row—that you notice.

The post.

JD’s photo.

“The cutest nap I’ve ever seen.”

You and Drew, tangled in sleep. Your head tucked into his shoulder, his hand on your arm. Golden hour casting everything soft and slow and tender.

The internet explodes.

“THEY’RE DATING I KNEW IT.”

“Roommates?? Yeah right.”

“This is the slow burn I’ve been waiting for.”

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Your phone buzzes again. And again.

And then—Drew’s voice. Low. Calm.

“You good?”

He crouches in front of you, brows drawn as you hold your phone out in silence.

He reads. Scrolls. Grins.

“They think we’re dating now,” you murmur, pulse racing.

He tilts his head. “They’ll think what they want.”

You wait for him to say more.

He doesn’t.

You could clarify. Say we’re just friends.

But you don’t.

Because what you felt when you saw that photo—what you’re still feeling now—isn’t panic. It’s a quiet thrum of recognition. Like the world saw something true before you had the words for it.

Drew watches you with an unreadable expression, somewhere between fondness and something more.

And this time, when someone teases you about it, you laugh.

But you don’t deny it.

Not anymore.

The party’s already alive by the time you arrive, tucked into the backyard of a rented beach house where the salty breeze tangles through citronella smoke and laughter. The night air hums with energy — music pulses from a half-open sliding door, drifting through the glow of string lights draped between palm trees like glowing constellations lazily flung across the sky. The faint crash of waves in the distance is a constant hush beneath it all.

Someone’s cranked up a speaker — almost definitely Rudy — loud enough to rattle the fence and earn a few glares from neighboring porches. The whole place feels like a breathless kind of summer, suspended in that golden blur between sunset and too late.

You step into the rhythm of it easily.

A half-dozen voices call your name, familiar faces grinning over red cups and half-empty seltzer cans. Madison finds you first, practically bouncing in her sandals as she throws an arm around your shoulders and presses a cold can into your hand.

“There she is,” she says, squeezing you with dramatic flair. “I was about two minutes away from sending a search party.”

You grin, the knot in your chest loosening slightly. “You know I wouldn’t miss this.”

She pulls you toward the fire pit, where JD and Austin are halfway through a heated argument about whether karaoke should be mandatory at every wrap party. You laugh at something Chase mutters under his breath, dodge Rudy dancing with a drink in each hand like a walking hazard, and let the scene fold around you — warm, bright, familiar.

It should feel easy.

It does, until it doesn’t.

You’re halfway through your second drink when you see him — Drew — across the yard, leaned casually against the edge of the deck. He’s framed by the spill of porch light and shadows, tall and unmistakable even in the half-dark. A drink dangles from his fingers, condensation sliding down the glass. He’s smiling.

Talking to a girl.

She’s tall, tan, hair spilling down her back like sun-bleached silk. Pretty in that effortless, sunkissed way. Her laugh rings high and sweet, and she tilts into him like he’s gravity. Her fingers brush his arm — light, teasing.

He doesn’t step back.

Your heart stutters, then twists. A slow, sinking feeling starts in your stomach, unfamiliar but sharp.

You look away too late.

Madison, beside you, catches your shift in focus and lifts a brow. “You good?” she asks, not unkindly — but there’s an edge to her voice, enough to snap you out of it.

“Yeah,” you lie, mouth pulling into a smile that feels flimsy. “Just zoning out.”

She follows your gaze, hums under her breath. “Ah. That kind of zoning.”

You glance at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she says too fast. “Just… interesting view.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to laugh, turning back toward the fire. But the flicker of heat on your skin doesn’t quite reach your chest. Not where it’s tight. Not where the image of Drew leaning toward someone else keeps replaying like a scene you didn’t want to see.

You know you shouldn’t care.

You really do.

But you can’t stop the way your fingers curl a little tighter around your can, like gripping something will keep you steady.

Later, inside the house, you sink into the edge of the couch, shoulders curled in, the room moving around you in a soft blur of music and muffled conversation. Your drink’s long gone, forgotten somewhere near the fire pit, and your hands are wrapped around a throw blanket like it might hold you together.

You’re trying — really trying — not to replay the moment in your head. But it plays anyway, over and over. Her laugh. His smile.

The couch shifts beside you.

You don’t have to look to know it’s him.

Drew drops down with a low sigh, the kind that says he’s done pretending the party is still fun. You feel the warmth of him instantly, the heat that rolls off his skin, the way his knee nearly brushes yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

You keep your eyes forward. “Hey.”

He hands you a bottle of water, the condensation cold against your palm. You take it, sip without speaking.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, too fast. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel it — the way he’s watching you, his arm draped across the back of the couch, not touching but close. Too close for you to keep pretending nothing’s wrong.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says after a beat. “That’s not like you.”

You force a shrug. “Just tired.”

His brow lifts. “Tired, huh.”

You glance sideways, catching the faintest curve of a smirk — soft, not teasing. But when you don’t answer, it fades into something more serious.

“Is this about earlier?”

You freeze.

“What?”

“The girl,” he says. “From outside.”

You hesitate, trying to sound casual. “Why would it be?”

He lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “Because you haven’t looked at me since.”

Your cheeks heat. “It’s not a big deal.”

“She was someone the sound guy brought. Visiting from Wilmington. Thought I was one of the producers or something. I don’t even think she knew my name.”

You glance at him, jaw tense. “You didn’t exactly push her away.”

He meets your eyes now, and there’s something steady there. “Did I need to?”

The question lands between you, quiet and loaded.

You set the bottle down slowly. “I didn’t like it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Not a confession, but close.

Drew doesn’t move for a long moment. Then, just as softly, he says, “I know.”

You turn toward him. “Then why pretend there’s nothing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling like he’s been holding this in for days. “Because I don’t know what this is yet.”

Your heart kicks up. “Neither do I.”

“But it’s something, right?” he says.

You nod. “Yeah. It is.”

His knee brushes yours, this time on purpose.

“Then maybe we stop pretending it’s not,” he murmurs.

You meet his gaze, everything else fading — the music, the voices, the party.

But you don’t kiss.

Not yet.

You just whisper, “Okay.”

His fingers graze yours, light and deliberate, a silent promise made in the hush between words.

And somehow, that feels like enough. For now.

The set was hushed, golden light pouring through the windows like honey as the late afternoon slid toward evening. Equipment clinked in the background, the soft shuffle of crew adjusting camera angles, murmured direction just out of earshot.

You stood across from Drew in the center of the room, script limp in your hand — mostly forgotten. The scene was simple. A kiss. One line, one beat, one cue.

But the air was thick with everything unspoken.

Drew was already looking at you — not like a co-star, not like a scene partner. Like he was watching for something he wasn’t sure you’d give. There was a flicker of nerves in his eyes, buried under the calm, and it mirrored the way your stomach twisted.

“Ready?” the director called.

You nodded, barely trusting your voice.

He stepped in.

The distance between you vanished, dissolved into the warmth of his palms as they settled gently on your waist. Your breath caught. He smelled like clean cotton and something faintly citrus, familiar and grounding. His fingers flexed once.

“Action.”

The kiss started soft — almost tentative, like he was afraid to startle you. Then it deepened, slow and intentional. His hand moved, thumb brushing your side. The rest of the world — the cameras, the lights, the people — dropped away.

There was only this.

When the director called cut, it felt like waking up from something too sweet to last.

You pulled back, breath shaky, heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

“That was perfect,” someone said, but it barely registered.

Drew was still looking at you. “You okay?” His voice was rough, lower than usual.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He hesitated, then smiled. “Yeah.”

But it didn’t feel like acting.

Your fingers brushed when you reached for your things. He didn’t move away.

Something had changed.

And it wasn’t just the scene.

The hilltop clearing was quiet beneath a canopy of stars, the kind that only came out full after the rain — sharp and endless. The air was cool, clean, and carried the scent of wet earth and pine. Drew’s truck rumbled to a stop at the top of the path, headlights casting long shadows across the open field.

Neither of you spoke as you climbed out. The world around you felt too sacred, like even whispering might break it.

He laid the blanket down in a practiced motion, and you sank onto it beside him, shoulders brushing. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was full — stretched wide like the sky, heavy with possibility.

Finally, he turned toward you.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, eyes shining even in the dark.

You nodded.

He exhaled, like this had been sitting on his chest for a long, long time.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words didn’t echo. They settled.

“I didn’t plan it,” he continued. “It just… happened. Somewhere between late-night drives and the way you always know what I need. And maybe I tried not to let it show, but I can’t keep pretending this is just friendship anymore.”

You didn’t say anything right away — because you felt it. All of it.

Then you leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t fireworks. It was a slow exhale. A door opening. His hand found your jaw. Yours slid into his hair. It was soft, real, built from a thousand little moments that had always been leading here.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, forehead resting against his.

And just like that — with stars above and hearts finally bare — everything felt different.

Not uncertain.

Just right.

taglist: @kieeslove, @wuluhwuhmaster

[acosmicbee]

The Regular

(Platonic Yandere x Gender Neutral Teen Reader)

You hated your job. It was your typical crappy customer service job mostly offered to teens because they had no where else to apply. It felt like an opportunity to let customers berate you without the higher-ups having to step up to protect the workers.

But, while you hated your job, you loved your day shift manager, Chad. He was a chill college student who let workers listen to music or whatever as long as they still were able to help out customers and do their work. He also would let people go home early during exam season or if they got yelled at by a customer.

Your night manager, however, was the opposite. She was an older lady who loved to yell at absolutely everyone. There was no music allowed on her watch, even for people working in the stock rooms in the back where customers weren't allowed. She was a bitter woman and there were running bets on how many times she'd been divorced due to her horrid personality.

Unfortunately for you, it was another long weekend, which meant taking on a night shift. Your day manager had already clocked out with an apologetic expression as Mrs.Karen started her rounds. You weren't even being funny, that was actually what she made everyone call her because just Karen was too informal.

Immediately, there was a scramble to either take out earbuds or hide them behind hair or hats. You immediately shoved on a nearby hat with the store's logo on it and Mrs.Karen didn't seem to notice your earbuds as she stalked off to yell at one of the cashiers. You could only grimace and return to stocking the shelves, hoping your coworker was okay.

It wasn't the quietest of nights, but you were left alone for the most part so you listened to some streamer playing the Sims 4. Obviously, you wished you were actually watching the video, but if you did that Karen would 100% catch you.

As your shift continued you helped a couple of people around the store and most of them were decent human beings. For example, the mother who looked like she was about to cry when you offered to watch her kid for a second so she could use the bathroom. Or the older couple who kept on asking you for snack recommendations for their grandson who was about your age.

Of course, the peace couldn't last forever. Right as the stream ended and your earbuds went silent some guy came up to you pissed off about not having a certain brand of frozen peas.

"Well I always get this exact brand! So go find it!" Of course the yelling attracted Karen who glared at you for upsetting the customer. Because it was somehow your fault that the exact brand of frozen peas wasn't in stock at that exact time.

"L/N. Go check in the back." Karen hissed before turning to the customer. "I am so sorry sir! You know how lazy this generation is. L/N probably forgot to stock them."

Despite knowing for sure you'd stocked everything frozen, you walked into the backroom, quickly pulling out your earbuds when you were out of eyesight. Karen was already mad, and if she saw those, she would kill you.

"Joe? Karen wants to know if we have any frozen peas. Specifically 'Green Garden Frozen Peas'." Your coworker, who was a better person than you, actually took a moment to look before shaking his head. "Nope. None here. Good luck facing the beast, Y/N."

You steeled yourself before walking out of the backroom. "I am so sorry, sir, but I just checked with stocking, and we are unfortunately out of the Green Garden Frozen Peas. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

You flinched as the man started yelling again as Karen tried desperately to pacify him. As he stormed off, she ran after him, but not before shooting you a killer glare. You really hated her. But you quickly finished stocking the empty shelves before you came back and proceeded to hide behind Joe for the rest of your shift.

The two of you had finished counting and labeling the rest of the boxes early, so you'd found another video by the same streamer you'd been listening to earlier. It was another Sims 4 video, and you let her soothing voice quell your anxiety until it was time to clock out. You, thankfully, didn't see Karen again and hoped she'd have forgotten all about this next time you had to work a night shift.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎧 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

You'd started listening to different streamers more and more as time wore on. You were almost always on stocking, or in the back where it was easier to get away with having your earbuds in. Chad had even begun to recommend you different streamers after one friendly conversation in the break room.

Of course, Karen was still as much of a monster as always. It was getting worse now that midterms were right around the corner. Listening to streams was your only escape from Karen's tyranny.

You began to listen more to a streamer you'd discovered over the last few months, 'LadyInRed'. She had a medium sized following and mostly played games. She had a soothing voice and the way she talked to her chat was almost motherly. Her streams were a nice way to calm down after being yelled at by both customers and Karen all night. Especially now that Chad was taking some time off to study for his college midterms.

Unfortunately for you, one of your co-workers had the flu so you were on the cash register today. LadyInRed wasn't streaming so you'd opted for your playlist instead of the generic pop songs blasting through the store. Of course, your earbuds were covered by your hat but you had to be even more careful than normal.

However, your last straw came in the form of a customer you recognized. It was the Pea Man from a couple of shifts ago. Despite the fact that you weren't even on stocking today he locked in on you and stormed over to your register.

Luckily before he could get there a woman pushed her full cart into your lane and began loading her groceries onto the belt. She gave you a friendly smile as you began to ring her up. Behind her the man was getting increasingly agitated to the point that your co-workers were sending you sympathetic looks.

The woman wasn't even out of the lane, just beginning to bag up her things into reusable bags she'd brought, when the man began to go off on you. He was yelling about anything and everything.

The store was still out of his peas, bummer but you weren't the one who decided what to order for the store. He claimed that you looked unprofessional, you were wearing your uniform just like everyone else. The store was too cold, you didn't control the thermostat. You were at your breaking point and were about to do something that would lose you your job when the lady in your lane stepped up.

"Sir, you are berating a child for things that are way out of their control. Does it make you feel powerful to yell at a teenager who's just trying to do their job? Are you proud of yourself for making someone's day worse to make yourself feel better because you probably hate your life?" The man's mouth fell open and Karen, who was probably on her way over to do damage control and glare at you stopped in her tracks.

"Honestly, how low do you have to go to bully a child?!" The woman huffed, before turning back to you. "I am so sorry sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Oh, um, yes? Thank you, miss." You stuttered out. You were a bit surprised that someone would stand up for you, seeing how no one besides Chad had ever done that before. The woman smiled at you apologetically before taking her bags. She sent the man, who was now quiet, one last dirty look before leaving with her shopping.

The Pea Man slipped out of the store after her, pointedly ignoring you and Karen went back to supervising and yelling at people. But as you continued to ring up customers something about that one lady just felt familiar to you...

But you brushed it off, instead staring at the clock and counting down the hours until the end of your shift.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎧 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

You expected to never see the helpful customer again. She wasn't anyone you'd seen before and you doubted she'd come back after what had happened, but you were wrong. Since that first shift, she'd become a bit of a regular.

Even on the nights you didn't work the register and were stocking, you'd see her. She'd always come up to you with a smile, asking where something was or needing help. Every single time, something inside you would activate some intense feelings of deja vu. You swore you knew her from somewhere, maybe one of your mom's work parties?

Either way, the days continued. After school you'd work til closing and on weekends you'd work the whole day. Without fail, you'd see her at some point, unless you were in the back. And even though she provided a small reprieve from the normal condescending and outright rude patrons, something about her made you squirm a little.

Maybe it was the way she appeared every single shift without fail. Maybe it was the strange smile on her face when she thought you weren't looking. Or maybe you were just going crazy from being treated like an equal for once. On the bright side, you never saw the pea man again. Seriously, who gets that attached to a brand of frozen peas?

Everything was fine until you were on your way home one night. You were too young to drive, a couple of months away from getting your learners permit, so you biked. You had a light on your bike and wore a reflective vest because it was dark, but some people are apparently blind because you still got side swiped by a car, which then sped off as you tumbled from your bike.

Thankfully, someone who was walking nearby helped you and you were taken to the hospital for a broken arm and some road rash from where you'd tumbled. By the time your mom was able to pick you up, the problems with having a business woman for a mom, you were just exhausted.

You sent a text to Chad, telling him you'd be off for at least two days because of your arm. Of course he was understanding and promised to break it to Karen for you. It was nearly 5 AM when you finally collapsed into bed and fell asleep.

You woke up the next afternoon to a note from your mom that she'd excused you from school for the next couple of days. Smart of her, because it was nearly 3 PM and the school day would've been over.

When you checked your phone you also saw a few texts from Chad. You didn't think much of it, clumsily trying to eat some leftovers with one hand before you looked them over.

Chad

>Hey Y/N 2:28PM

>Some lady came in today asking about you 2:28PM

>Got a weird vibe so I just told her that you were in the back 2:29PM

>Be safe, ok? 2:29PM

Your mind immediately jumped to the strange woman. She had asked about you? That was odd and only made you even more uncomfortable. You thanked Chad before lying back in bed and trying to find some chill gaming stream or something. When you stumbled across your regular streamer, 'LadyInRed'.

It was only when you clicked onto her stream when your heart began to race. That was where you recognized your new regular from! They had the same voice, and the same speaking pattern. Not to mention since she'd become a regular, she never streamed during your shift. Instead, you'd listen to old streams that you'd missed while working.

The thing was, you weren't sure what to do with that information. It would feel wrong to just confront her about it so you decided to let sleeping dogs lie next time you saw her.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎧 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

"Y/N, you're on register until your arm heals. I don't want you hurting yourself further." Chad all but ordered you when you showed up for your next shift. Your arm was wrapped in a white cast and you were still getting used to not using it. Either way, you took up your position at the register.

It was a calm day, for a Saturday. Even when Chad left and Karen took over, it was rather quiet. You were trying to subtly turn up the volume of the song you were listening to on your phone when you heard a shocked gasp. Thinking it was Karen, your head shot up ready with an excuse, but it wasn't. Instead, it was your regular, staring in horror at your cast and sling.

"Oh dear! What happened to you?! Should you be working right now?" She asked, which felt a little strange to have a stranger worry so openly over you.

"It was a small accident. The doctor said as long as I don't use it, I'm fine to continue working." You explained. "I might be a little slower so if you want to be checked out faster you can go to one of the other registers or self checkout."

"Oh you poor dear, I don't mind at all." As she began to load her groceries onto the belt she continued talking. "You got into an accident?"

"Yeah. I got side swiped by a car while biking home. It was a hit and run but someone saw and called an ambulance for me."

"That's absolutely horrible! Don't your parents drive you home? I'm pretty sure this store is open until at least 10 or 11, there's no way it's safe for you to be biking home." She said. You just sighed as you began to scan her groceries.

"My mom is in corporate business and works a lot. But I like biking home and nothing bad ever happened before then." You said, beginning to ring her up. She hadn't bought much, just some tea and a brand of snack you'd happened to like. "Your total is $19.47, will that be cash or card?"

"Card please. Are you sure you don't need a ride? With your arm it can't be easy to bike." She offered.

"It's fine. I already asked one of my coworkers for a ride. Get home safe, miss." You lied, handing over the bag of snacks with a smile.

"Thank you. You get home safe too, okay? It's not safe for someone your age to be biking home at night alone." With that she took the bag containing her groceries and left the store, leaving you with a strange gut feeling.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎧 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

"What do you mean you can't get me today? I thought you said you were free. Everyone's already left, it's not like I can just get a ride with someone." Your mom had canceled on getting you at the last second. She'd already promised to get you so you hadn't thought to get a backup ride.

"Listen Y/N. You're old enough to walk home by yourself. You know the neighborhood and it's at most a 30 minute walk. Just suck it up. I don't have time to argue with you right now." Your mom stated cooly. She always got like this when she was stressed, closed off and snappy. 

Normally you would've just hung up there, but tonight something felt off. You knew you shouldn't walk home alone, that something bad would happen. Especially with your broken arm, you couldn't exactly defend yourself very well.

"Mom, I really can't. Something-!"

"I'm hanging up Y/N. Just text me when you get home." With that the line went dead. Your hands shook as you put your phone in your bag, beginning the walk home. Every passing car was a threat. Every stranger walking down the sidewalk was an enemy. 

There was one block in particular you dreaded walking down. While it was lit by streetlights, it was silent. There was no one around, no storefronts to duck into if something happened. So you took a deep breath, held your bag close, and ran for it. You were nearing the end of the street and had just made it to the corner when you were grabbed from the side.

You could barely react before a needle was jammed into the side of your neck. It burned but you couldn't struggle without possibly snapping off the needle in your neck and the stranger had a strong grip on your non-injured arm.

You were forced to succumb to chemically induced unconsciousness in your attacker's arms.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎧 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Your senses came back to you slowly. You still couldn't move or see, but you could hear. At first it was just muffled talking, enough to convince yourself you'd fallen asleep watching a video or tv show or something. It wasn't until you listened to the words that you realized something was wrong. 

"You have to be very careful with what restraints you decide to use. It should never be anything a child could injure themselves with. I recommend soft but strong fabric. That way, it'll be harder to break through but your child will be unable to injure themselves trying to escape." Someone walked closer to you. You could hear them directly behind you but you still were unable to move. You heard the whir of a camera lens zooming in.

"As you can see, my child got into an accident before their adoption so I had to be extra careful when restraining them. For most looking to adopt, I would recommend holding off in this circumstance and waiting for your child to heal first. However, I have past medical training and can help look after their injury." The person moved closer to your head, and there was another whirr from a camera lens.

"Now, I chose to use a blindfold because my sweetheart needed some sleep and I couldn't have them waking up while I got them settled. Blindfolds, however are completely optional and that is your decision to make as a parent. I'm not going to show their face on here for privacy reasons but trust me when I say they look so adorable with it on." You twitched as you felt someone touch your head. That voice sounded so robotic and fake, likely someone with a voice changer of some sort.

"But that will be all for today! My baby is finally beginning to wake up and we should have some private bonding time. I'll probably post later this week trying out some new toys to keep them occupied while I do my day job. Later, guys!" There was a click as you assumed whatever camera your captor had shut off.

"Are you awake yet? Maybe that was a little bit too much knockout juice..." The voice murmured, slowly slipping from automated to familiar. That voice... it belonged to your regular customer. She had kidnapped you?

You tried to move, struggling harder this time, but you could barely twitch your muscles. There was no way you would be up and moving soon. Beside you, your regular, or you guess you should call her your captor now, giggled.

"You're alright honey. Soon enough, we'll get you all nice and adjusted to your new home where you don't have to worry about anything! I make enough money from streaming that you'll never have to worry again! Maybe if you're really good, we can play a game together during my daytime streams!" She hummed, running a hand through your hair. The sudden touch made you jump, even if your body barely twitched.

"Then at night, when I do my private streams for other potential... adopters you can be my little helper, okay? All you need to do is relax, Mommy will take care of you."

[cybrasigilism]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a dae ho x reader x thanos, where they both are trying to do outlandish stuff to get the readers attention on them and not the other. they're both so goofy at times

This Means War (Kang Dae-ho/Thanos X F! Reader)

warning: no smut! | not proofread | lowercase intended | OOC (bc daeho and thanos don’t really interact in the series) | love triangle(?) | this is my interpretation of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from your own

characters: kang dae-ho (player 388), thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: this may be the most entertaining fic i’ve written yet! thank you so much for the brilliant request, i’ve tried my best to make it an enjoyable read for you all! this is a mixed POV story so apologies for the confusion as it reads, i wanted to try something different but if this was too much of a confusing read i likely won’t do this style of fic very often. AND ik its short, i’m so sorry, but this is only the beginning of this story (if you guys like it)

–––-𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾-–––

dae-ho was sure he’d never seen someone quite so captivating in all his life. the moment you grabbed his attention from across the room at the very beginning of the games, he knew he had to get to know you. whether it was the way your face managed to light up the dark atmosphere of the common area, or the way you carried yourself in a calm, collected, self assured manner amongst all the uncertainty; he fell head over heels effective immediately.

unfortunately for dae-ho, he wasn’t the only one who seemed to have noticed you. thanos had clocked you the minute people started filing out from their bunks, and he felt things right then that he hadn’t felt for anyone before. he was totally drawn to you, it was almost as if he knew he had to stake his claim on you sooner rather than later, lest someone make their move first. he would be damned if he lost his chance with the most gorgeous girl he’d ever laid his eyes on to some random.

as for you, you were spending more of your time focusing on your current situation rather than scouring the location for potential suitors. you didn’t notice any familiar faces, to be honest you were kind of relieved at that. you would have been embarrassed to see a colleague or a friend there, knowing full well the predicament that you must have been in to even consider joining these sketchy games. you maintained a level head up to the point where you were all led to this photo center like cattle, taking photos for whatever reason before entering the first game. just as you were joining a line to take your photo, you heard someone call out your number out of nowhere.

“sẽnorita!” the same voice called out once again this time followed quickly by a whistle, causing you to turn your head and see this purple-haired guy with a crowd of people surrounding him. “i’ve got room for one more here, c’mon!” he beckoned for you to join the cramped circle. you felt your face contort into a concerned expression before simply turning away and joining a line far away from whatever that was. you could still feel that guy look at you for a quick moment, but when you glanced in his direction, he was long gone.

—

this first game, Red Light Green Light, was not anything like what you or anybody else were expecting. when the rules stated that players who moved would be eliminated, you didn’t conclude that that meant they would be assassinated. poker face be damned, you could feel your body vibrate every time that creepy doll turned her head back round to face the players, eyes scanning for even the slightest bit of movement. the next time you were all allowed to move forward, this tall, dark haired guy moved in front of you almost deliberately. when you all froze again you noticed he had his hand extended out to you behind his back, with his mouth covered you could hear him whisper “just stay close to me, okay?” you waited before that damned dolls head was turned around again before you grabbed his hand and the two of you took off.

once you both crossed the finish line, you looked up at your mystery saviour. “thank you for doing that..” you said, voice noticeably shaken from all the death you witnessed, and were still witnessing. he looked down at you and smiled. “of course, anything for you.” that last part warmed your heart, it was nice to know you had already found someone you could rely on in these trying new circumstances of yours. you let your gaze shift off subconsciously and noticed that purple headed guy from earlier, staring daggers at the man who had just essentially saved your life.

—

after the surviving players returned to the common area, cast their vote, and split off back to their beds, thanos made a b-line for dae-ho, looming over his bed to which dae-ho quickly took notice.

“that was some lame shit you pulled.” dae-ho had never been so perplexed at another person in his life. “what’re you talking about?” he asked, earning a laugh from the quirky stranger. thanos kneeled down, making eye contact with dae-ho now. “you know damn well, 388,” he started, spitting out dae-ho’s number as though it were a dirty word. “swooping in, acting like the hero for that chick.” dae-ho looked unamused, trying to be unassuming about the whole ordeal. “i don’t know what you think this is, i was just trying to keep somebody alive-“

“i didn’t ask what you were trying to do, did i?” thanos interrupted, getting closer to dae-ho now. “just know this. she’s mine. so i wouldn’t waste my time if i were you.” dae-ho held back a laugh, before looking his newfound opponent up and down. “that’s funny, the feeling didn’t seem mutual when she gave you the cold shoulder during photos.” thanos scoffed, turning away in an attempt to keep his cool. “whatever man, she’s just playing hard to get.” his voice trailed off at the end, when he clocked you sitting in your own bunk, knees to your chest.

“yeah, i don’t think that’s true.” dae-ho stated, getting up out of his bed, and patting thanos on the back. “i get that you’re probably used to having girls fall over themselves for you, so it’s definitely shocking when someone like that doesn’t give you a second look.” dae-ho’s slight smugness about the whole ordeal left thanos speechless, watching with seething rage as dae-ho made his was over to where you were sat. he knew that the games weren’t the only thing he wanted to win over now. he knew he was certainly not going to let dae-ho captivate your heart so easily, and he knew that he was definitely not going down without a fight.

dae-ho knew something too: he now knew he had to keep you safe from thanos because something inside told him that if that maniac was capable of inadvertently killing random people in order to advance in the first game, there was no telling the lengths he would go to gain your attention. he made a vow to himself to never let you out of his sight while you were in your current situation. over his dead body would he let someone like thanos prevail.

the two of them both made a nemesis that day, each one swearing that they could get to you before the other did. they now knew it was about more than just the games.

they now knew that this meant war.

–––-𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾-–––

apologies again for the length, or lack there of, of the fic! if anything i want to make this multiple parts but i understand if the format of this particular fanfiction is too confusing, and again i am sorry for that! just wanted to experiment :)

as always, advice and constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing are appreciated and requested!

have a splendid day/night lovelies 😙

tags: @gongyoosgf @agornotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[steveseddie]

helping hand

written for round one of @steddiebingo and the 12 days of Christmas mini-event | prompts: help & thigh fucking | rating: e | wc: 2,1k | no cw | tags: eddie lives, sharing a bed, hand jobs, thigh fucking, cuddling

read on ao3

According to Wayne, Eddie can sleep through anything.

It’s why he was late to school pretty much every day. That and the fact that he didn’t give a shit about it– but mostly because he always slept through his alarm clock.

But the thing is that to sleep through anything he needs to be asleep to begin with. And right now he can’t fall asleep because Steve hasn’t stopped tossing and turning in the past hour.

When Eddie comes close to falling asleep for what feels like the hundredth time only for Steve to twist around again, he can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh.

Steve freezes as he’s fixing the blanket around him. “Um, did I wake you?” he asks in a tiny voice.

“I’d have to be asleep for you to wake me up, big boy.”

Running his hands down his face, Steve groans. “Shit, sorry, man.”

“‘S fine, Stevie.” He gives Steve a sidelong glance. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the window he can see that he’s frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just– Can’t sleep.”

“I got that much, dude,” Eddie says with a snort. He hesitates, biting his lip nervously. “Um, is it because of me?”

It might’ve been Steve who suggested they shared his bed tonight, but maybe he changed his mind or maybe he only did it because he was trying to be polite and he expected Eddie to turn down the offer–

Steve frantically shakes his head. “No! No–”

Eddie isn’t convinced. “Are you sure? Because I can go–”

“No,” Steve says, more firmly this time. “Eddie, I promise, I’m just restless, s’all.”

Eddie relaxes. “Okay, yeah, I get that. It happens to me a lot, especially after– you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs in sympathy. “So what do you do? When it happens?”

“Uh–” Eddie hesitates, a little worried that answering truthfully might make sharing a bed a bit awkward. Oh fuck it, he thinks. It was Steve who asked. “I usually just– you know, jerk off.”

Steve inhales sharply. He lets out a tiny, “Oh.”

And there’s the awkwardness.

Before Eddie can offer to take the couch again, Steve asks, “Does that, um– does that work for you?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Oh, like a charm. Makes me sleep like a baby.”

“I could use some of that,” Steve sighs longingly.

Eddie agrees– he’s noticed the black smudges under Steve’s eyes. “Well, I could, uh– go to the bathroom for a while if you want to–”

Steve sputters. “I’m not gonna ask you to go to the bathroom so I can jerk off!”

“Fine, then you can go to the bathroom. I’ll cover my ears, I promise,” Eddie says, trying to act casual but the truth is that if Steve actually took him up on the offer, Eddie’s brain would melt out of his ears just from knowing Steve is jerking off in the next room.

“Jesus, how loud do you think I am, man?” Steve asks with an incredulous laugh.

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve given it much thought.” He has given it plenty of thought actually but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “Just trying to be helpful here, Stevie.”

“There’s something else you could do if you want to help,” Steve whispers after a short silence. He sounds strangely shy, nervous. He can’t possibly mean–

“Steve,” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice leveled. “Are you asking me to get you off?”

There’s a short moment where Steve doesn’t say anything and Eddie worries that he just made things even more awkward by assuming that’s what he meant, but before he can spiral he hears Steve’s soft reply. “Maybe.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters out loud though mostly to himself but Steve hears it anyway and lets out a panicked yelp.

“Christ, you know what? That was stupid.”

“Steve–”

But Steve ignores him, rolling on his side, away from Eddie, and as far as he can without falling off the bed. “Forget I said anything, you don’t have to–”

“I want to!” Eddie blurts out, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Uh, if– if it will help you.”

“Eddie, I can’t ask you to do that,” Steve says, still facing away from Eddie.

“I’m offering,” he says. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to him and it definitely won’t be happening twice but he wants it– God, does he want it– so he moves closer, putting his hand on Steve’s waist, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s entire body shudders. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Please, Eddie.”

Oh, shit.

Just the thought of doing this is enough to make Eddie’s blood rush downward, making his dick half hard so he’s careful to keep his hips angled away from Steve’s back as he scoots closer to him, moving his hand from Steve’s waist to his lower stomach, feeling his skin erupt in goosebumps beneath his touch.

“I got you, Stevie,” he whispers, fingers moving down, playing with Steve’s happy trail. He’s already panting and Eddie still hasn’t even touched him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he needs to touch him.

He slides his hand lower until his knuckles bump against Steve’s cock over his boxers. “You’re already half hard, sweetheart? Is this what was actually keeping you up?”

Steve lets out a low moan. He didn’t ask Eddie for a running commentary, just a helping hand, but Eddie can’t stop himself. He’s a loud guy through and through, so unless Steve tells him to shut up, he’ll keep running his mouth. Steve seems to be into it anyway.

He lazily strokes Steve’s cock over his boxers to get him to full hardness. Fuck, he’s big, Eddie thinks. He can’t wait to feel Steve’s hot skin–

“Can I touch you?” Eddie whispers into his ear.

“Yes, yeah,” Steve agrees quickly.

So Eddie slips his hand inside Steve’s boxers, sighing happily when he wraps his fingers around his hard length.

The touch makes Steve throw his head back with a groan, almost smashing it against Eddie’s nose. Thankfully he doesn’t, even though not even a bloody nose would make Eddie give up the chance to get Steve off.

However he does prop himself up with the arm he isn’t using to touch Steve so his head rests against Eddie’s shoulder so as to not risk an injury– and because it allows him to peer over Steve’s shoulder and watch how his hand looks wrapped around his cock.

And God the sight gets Eddie to full hardness, making his mouth water.

He starts stroking him slowly, gathering the precum from the tip and smearing it down and around Steve’s cock but it’s not enough.

When he lets go entirely, Steve whines, hips thrusting forward, chasing after Eddie’s touch.

Eddie shushes him gently. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart. Here, spit,” he says, holding his hand close to Steve’s mouth. He does as he’s told without hesitation. Eddie can’t stop himself from kissing Steve’s nape. “Good boy.”

“Oh, G-god,” Steve moans brokenly. It trails off into a high-pitched whine when Eddie wraps his hand around him again, the slide of his hand smoother now from Steve’s spit.

He pumps him loosely. “Better?”

“Y–yeah,” Steve manages, panting now.

The elastic of his boxers makes Eddie’s movements a little clumsy but Steve fixes it by jerkily shoving them down. While doing that, his ass presses back against Eddie’s front and there’s no way for him to hide that he’s fully hard in his own boxers.

But instead of shoving Eddie away or calling him out on it, Steve groans and shuffles back until Eddie’s chest presses against his back and Eddie’s cock is nestled against Steve’s now naked ass.

“Fucking– fuck,” Eddie chokes out, momentarily stopping his hand so he can get his breathing over control.

“Eddie–” Steve whines, his hips twitching and fucking his cock into Eddie’s fist. It pushes his ass back against Eddie’s crotch, which does little to help Eddie focus.

“‘M here, baby,” Eddie whispers, his teeth clamped over his lip. Steve’s hips are still moving–

But he starts stroking him again, reminding himself that this is about Steve.

“Oh God, yes,” he moans loudly.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be loud,” Eddie mutters in awe.

Steve lets out a choked laugh. “I thought– I thought you didn’t give it much– oh fuck, much thought.”

“I fucking lied,” Eddie admits with a scoff.

“I– I lied too,” Steve says, his breath coming faster when Eddie tightens his grip. “You were the reason, fuck– the reason why I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking, oh God– thinking about how I wanted to be doing this instead.”

Something hot burns in Eddie’s stomach. “Well, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“Can– can I ask for something else?” Steve says shyly despite him currently grinding his ass against Eddie in an obscene way.

“Anything.”

“Fuck my thighs?” He asks, twisting his neck so he can look at Eddie, his eyes half-lidded, his pupils blown wide.

Eddie is pretty sure his brain momentarily short circuits.

When he doesn’t reply right away, Steve blindly reaches behind him, his hand connecting with Eddie’s hip. He clumsily tugs on his boxers, trying to get them off.

It snaps Eddie out of it. “Yes, yeah, fucking– yeah,” he mutters, momentarily letting go of Steve so he can shove his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach.

He gives himself a few strokes– to take the edge off and to spread the precum along his length until his cock is wet and shiny.

“Come here,” Steve says and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He shuffles closer, angling the head of his dick forward, lining it up so it slides between Steve’s thighs.

And when it does, they both moan loudly at the same time.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths then reaches for Steve’s cock. The inside of Steve’s thighs is so warm and soft and he knows he’s not gonna last long, but he’ll make sure to make Steve come.

He makes sure his grip is tighter this time, his movements faster. He times them with his own thrusts, his cock sliding wetly in and out Steve’s meaty thighs.

“You feel fucking perfect, Steve,” Eddie groans, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder blade. The praise makes Steve whimper, his cock pulsing in Eddie’s hand. “You gonna come, sweetheart?”

Breathing coming faster, Steve manages, “Yeah– yeah. So fuckin’ close.”

“Me too, baby,” he admits. It doesn’t surprise him, he’s currently experiencing the hottest moment of his entire existence.

The closer he gets, the more his movements turn clumsier, more desperate– desperate to come, to make Steve come.

It’s when Eddie gives Steve’s shoulder a playful little bite at the same time that he twists his hand on the upstroke that Steve’s back arches and he moans loud and shaky as his cock pulses hotly into his hand.

Steve’s noises as he comes and the way his thighs tighten around Eddie’s cock are enough to bring him over the edge after only a few more thrusts and he paints Steve’s legs with cum.

They lay like that for a few seconds, catching their breath. Eddie starts to drift off, feeling tired and floaty.

“So you think you can fall asleep now?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Steve lets out a soft little giggle. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Eddie grins triumphantly. “Happy to be of service, Your Majesty,” he says with a twist of his cum-covered hand.

Steve’s nose wrinkles as his eyes land on it, but there’s a trace of fond amusement in the look he throws at Eddie over his shoulder. He grabs a handful of tissues from his nightstand and uses them to clean Eddie’s hand and himself before they both shove their boxers back on and get back under the covers.

Eddie rolls to his side. “Before you fall asleep and because I know it’ll keep me up if I don’t ask– was that like, just a hookup or do you like, like me?” He grimaces, burying his face into a pillow. “God, I sound like a twelve year old.”

Steve laughs, but not unkindly. “I like you, Eddie,” he says, and when Eddie lifts his head to look at him, Steve leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Now let’s sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Smiling, Eddie nods. That’s fine by him.

Steve turns around, facing away again and Eddie wraps his arm around him, burrowing his face into the back of his neck.

They’re both asleep in a matter of seconds.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Heart shaped

pairing: lee felix x gn!reader

genre: fluff, roommates to lovers au

warning/s: just disgusting fluff

a/n: this is an old drabble that has been in my drafts for like half a year. i wanted to post dolly today but since i got delayed here's a little something, happy valentine's day my babies🩷

You're slowly waking up. Your eyes flutter before you finally open them and they land on the window.

It's still dark out. 3am. That's what it says on your clock.

Great. This is the third night in a row that your roommate woke you up with strange noises in the kitchen. The last two nights you tried to ignore it.

Felix isn't the type of person to do stuff like that on purpose, so you let him be. Whatever he's doing won't be long, right?

Well, here you are, proven to be wrong.

You sigh, deciding you really need to get up and check what he's doing.

"Felix?" your voice startles him and he turns from the stove abruptly. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did I wake you up? I'm sorry!" he panics, scrambling around the kitchen and moving stuff.

But you can see what he's trying to hide. There is at least five trays of well- kind of heart shaped cookies, some of them are burnt, some were crushed into pieces, some had icing on them.

"Are you nervous baking?" you chuckle, coming closer and you can see redness forming on his freckled cheeks.

"Yeah, something like that." he nods, avoiding your eyes.

"Are you making heart shaped cookies?" you try again.

"I'm trying to make heart shaped cookies." he corrects you, finally looking up at you. "I accidentally burned the first batch. And the second one, they started falling apart. And then this third one just wasn't the right taste. And the fourth one, the icing looks weird. And-"

"Why don't you breathe?" you place your hands on his shoulders as he almost starts hyperventilating.

"Yeah, yeah, that's like important." Felix says and you chuckle at his 3am brain.

"Can you tell me why you're doing this?" you ask when you think he's calmed down a little.

"I'm..." he swallows, "I'm trying to confess to someone."

"Oh." you nod. "And you wanna bring them cookies?"

"Yeah, exactly." he says, biting on his lip nervously.

"Since I'm not sleeping anymore, I could help you?" you suggest and he chuckles.

"Now that would be ironic." he says.

"What? Why would it be ironic?" you ask.

"No, no reason." Felix smirks at your 3am brain.

"Okay, you can help me."

Both of you get to work, to make perfectly heart shaped cookies that are also delicious and don't crumble the moment you grab them.

You wonder who the recipient is, but you don't want to pry, if Felix wanted to tell you he would.

-

"Alright, let's do a taste test." you nod confidently once they're done.

The two of you grab a cookie each and count down to one before biting into it.

"Mm, these are perfect!" you exclaim, eyes wide.

"They're so good!" Felix matches your excitement.

"Hey, thanks for helping me." he adds, smiling at you fondly.

"No problem, good luck with your confession." you say.

"Thank you." Felix chuckles.

-

When you walk into the kitchen the next morning, you see something covered up on the table.

You walk over to it slowly and realize there's a little paper with your name on it.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you pick up the note and reveal what was covered up.

"Oh." you gasp when you see the cookies you worked hard on last night with Felix, all nicely rounded in a cute basket with decorative flowers.

You take a look at the note but there's nothing on it except your name.

"See, this is why I said it's ironic you're helping me." Felix's voice startles you and you turn around and look at him.

He's leaning on the fridge, arms crossed on his chest as he smirks at you.

"W-what?" you ask like you're dumbfounded because there is no way.

"They're for you. I'm confessing to you." his smirk turns into a shy smile, his demeanor changing into something softer.

"Oh."

"Is that a good 'oh'? Or a bad 'oh'?" he asks.

"It's a good 'oh'." you chuckle and Felix comes closer to you.

"I like you. I have for a while. And I was wondering if you feel the same. And if you do, maybe we can take this basket of cookies on a picnic date with us." Felix says and you chuckle at him, your heart rate picking up speed.

"I'd love to take the cookies on a picnic date."

Both of you laugh, and Felix is leaning closer into you.

"Does that mean you like me? Or you just like the cookies?" he asks, his breath hitting your cheek and making your heart flutter.

"Both." you whisper with a smile and Felix presses his lips on yours gently.

Your eyes flutter shut as you stay still for a few moments before both of you lean away sheepishly.

"You know..." you start and Felix looks at you expectantly.

"I would've said yes even if the cookies were burnt or crumbling into pieces." you say and he blushes, fidgeting with his hands.

"Good to know."

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