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hjpsdiary · 2 days ago

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slytherin boy's headcons (them as ur bf <3)

theodore nott as your boyfriend :

• he’s the definition of quiet but observant; he notices every little thing about you, from your favorite snacks to how you fidget when nervous.

• doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s meaningful—his compliments feel rare and precious.

• surprisingly affectionate in private; he’ll always find excuses to brush his fingers against yours or pull you close when no one’s looking.

• reads a lot and will casually leave books he thinks you’d like in your bag or on your desk.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it—he’ll silently step in when someone’s bothering you or shoot a glare that makes them back off immediately.

• has a sarcastic sense of humor that comes out more as he gets comfortable with you; you’re one of the few people who ever see him smile.

• remembers everything you say, even the small things, and will surprise you by acting on it weeks later.

• not big on grand romantic gestures but makes up for it with small, thoughtful actions, like brewing your favorite tea or saving you a seat in class.

• loves stargazing; it’s one of the rare times he really opens up, sharing his thoughts and dreams while lying next to you under the stars.

• isn’t the best with words when expressing feelings but tries to write them down for you in short, heartfelt notes.

• values trust above all else; if you’re patient with him, he’ll let his walls down completely and be endlessly loyal.

• his love language is acts of service—he’ll carry your books, fix your broken quill, or help you study without you even asking.

• secretly adores when you wear something of his, like a sweater or scarf, and won’t say it outright but will be internally smug all day.

• has a soft, calming presence that makes you feel safe and at ease no matter what’s going on around you.

• he’s not perfect, sometimes retreating into himself when overwhelmed, but he’ll always come back to you, knowing you’re his anchor.

mattheo riddle as your boyfriend :

• the ultimate bad boy with a soft spot only for you; he’s tough around others but absolutely melts when it comes to you.

• constantly teases you but gets genuinely offended if you don’t fire back—he loves the banter.

• incredibly protective to the point where he’ll square up with anyone who even looks at you the wrong way.

• thrives on physical touch—his arm is always slung around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers intertwined with yours.

• has a devilish grin that he only uses to fluster you because he knows it works every single time.

• somehow knows exactly where you are at all times, and not in a creepy way—just always shows up when you need him.

• calls you ridiculous nicknames like “princess,” “trouble,” or “love,” depending on his mood.

• super possessive but not in a toxic way—he just loves reminding people that you’re his.

• absolutely hates when you’re upset with him and will go out of his way to apologize, even if it means swallowing his pride.

• smokes casually and offers you his jacket when it’s cold, the scent of him lingering on it for hours after.

• loves pulling you into trouble with him, whether it’s sneaking out after curfew or pranking someone, but always makes sure you’re safe.

• surprisingly intellectual—he can talk about dark magic theories for hours and gets a kick out of teaching you forbidden spells.

• his temper can flare up, especially when someone crosses you, but he always calms down when you’re around.

• absolutely adores seeing you in his clothes; he’ll smirk and say, “Looks better on you, anyway.”

• deeply loyal—once you have his heart, there’s no getting rid of him, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

• loves late-night conversations, where he gets a little vulnerable and tells you about his past and his fears.

• has a soft side he rarely shows, but when he does, it’s for you—whether it’s stroking your hair when you’re stressed or mumbling “I love you” when he thinks you’re asleep.

• he’s chaos personified, but somehow, with you, he feels like he’s finally found a bit of peace.

lorenzo birkshire as your boyfriend:

• he’s the smooth talker who flirts like it’s second nature, but with you, it’s genuine—he means every word.

• loves to make you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to crack jokes, pull silly faces, or do over-the-top impressions just to see you smile.

• low-key a hopeless romantic; he’ll surprise you with little handwritten notes, flowers he “found,” or surprise dates in secret spots.

• absolutely loves PDA—he’s the type to kiss your cheek in front of everyone or hold your hand just to let people know you’re his.

• he’s fiercely loyal, and anyone who tries to mess with you instantly regrets it; he’ll defend you without hesitation.

• the type to whisper in your ear during class, making you both laugh quietly, even if it earns him a detention.

• incredibly charming but gets adorably flustered when you flirt back or catch him off guard.

• loves spoiling you in small ways—buying you your favorite sweets, carrying your bag, or sneaking you an extra butterbeer during Hogsmeade trips.

• surprisingly good at comforting you when you’re upset; he’ll listen, wrap you in a warm hug, and crack just the right joke to lighten the mood.

• lives for the banter between you two; he thinks it’s hilarious when you try to outwit him, even if you win.

• would give you his scarf or cloak without hesitation if you were cold and wouldn’t stop teasing you about looking “adorable” in it.

• the type to plan spontaneous adventures, dragging you out of bed to sneak around the castle or explore forbidden areas.

• he’s a mix of chaotic energy and soft affection, always knowing when to be playful and when to be serious.

• low-key brags about you to his friends but pretends he’s “too cool” to care when they tease him about how smitten he is.

• loves running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, especially when you’re sitting close or leaning against him.

• insists on being your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up before exams, Quidditch matches, or even small challenges.

• gets jealous easily but tries to play it off—he’s terrible at hiding it, though, and ends up pouting until you reassure him.

• he’s the kind of boyfriend who’s both your partner in crime and your safe place, balancing wild fun with genuine love.

draco malfoy as your boyfreind:

• starts off guarded, but once he lets his walls down, he’s completely devoted to you.

• the type to act all cool and aloof in public but secretly loves holding your hand or brushing his fingers against yours.

• buys you extravagant gifts, not because he’s trying to show off, but because it’s how he expresses his love—jewelry, rare books, or even something sentimental he knows you’ll cherish.

• incredibly protective; he’d go out of his way to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, whether that means intimidating someone who’s bothering you or walking you to every class.

• struggles to express his emotions verbally but makes up for it through his actions—he’ll always be there when you need him, no questions asked.

• low-key thrives on your praise; hearing you say you’re proud of him or appreciate him makes him feel on top of the world.

• gets jealous easily and tries to play it cool, but his little snarky comments give him away every time.

• loves spoiling you in subtle ways, like slipping your favorite dessert onto your plate at dinner or reserving the best spot in the library for you.

• softens dramatically when he’s with you; he goes from sharp sarcasm to quiet vulnerability in your presence.

• late-night talks are where he truly opens up, sharing his fears, insecurities, and dreams he’s too afraid to admit to anyone else.

• secretly loves when you mess with his perfectly styled hair, even though he’ll complain about it every time.

• will drape his scarf or coat around your shoulders if you’re cold, muttering something about how he “can’t have you freezing to death.”

• loves hearing you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to say something witty just to see you smile, even if it’s at his expense.

• incredibly attentive to your needs—he notices when you’re tired, stressed, or upset, and does everything he can to help.

• he’s not big on public displays of affection but will always find little ways to show you’re his, like resting his hand on your lower back or standing close enough for your shoulders to touch.

• gets flustered when you compliment him, especially if you call him handsome or clever—he’ll roll his eyes, but his pink cheeks give him away.

• he’s not perfect and sometimes lashes out when he’s stressed, but he’s quick to apologize and make it up to you.

• when he says he loves you, it’s rare but deeply meaningful—you can tell he means it with everything he has.

• despite his flaws, he’s fiercely loyal, endlessly protective, and wholly yours, doing everything he can to make you feel loved.

blaise zabini as your boyfriend:

• effortlessly smooth and confident, he doesn’t even need to try to charm you—it’s just who he is.

• the king of subtle but meaningful gestures, like holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair, or placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd.

• loves to spoil you, but in a classy, understated way—think fine chocolate, rare books, or spontaneous weekend getaways.

• very private about your relationship; he keeps most of his affection behind closed doors but isn’t shy about letting people know you’re his.

• gives the best advice; he’s incredibly perceptive and always knows the right thing to say when you’re stressed or upset.

• he’s not big on loud, over-the-top displays of affection, but his actions always show how much he cares—he’s the type to quietly take care of things before you even ask.

• loves watching you talk about something you’re passionate about; he’ll rest his chin in his hand and just admire you with a soft smile.

• has a wicked sense of humor and loves teasing you, but it’s always playful and never hurtful—he secretly loves when you tease him back.

• he’s the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, but you’re the only one who can fluster him when you catch him off guard with affection or a well-timed compliment.

• ridiculously good at remembering details about you, like your favorite drink, your childhood stories, or even the exact shade of your favorite lipstick.

• loves to keep you close—whether it’s casually draping an arm over your shoulder or pulling you into his lap when you’re alone together.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it; one look from him is enough to make anyone second-guess bothering you.

• will casually drop compliments about you in conversations with his friends, but if they tease him about being soft, he just smirks and doesn’t deny it.

• he’s a fantastic listener and always makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the room when you’re talking to him.

• takes immense pride in how you carry yourself and always reminds you of how incredible you are, even if you don’t see it yourself.

• adores dressing up for dates with you and insists on coordinating outfits so you both look effortlessly elegant together.

• late nights with him often involve deep conversations, a bottle of wine, and a lot of soft touches as he shares pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else.

• has a surprisingly tender side—he’ll hold you close when you’re feeling down, whispering reassurances that everything will be okay.

• he’s all about balance: the perfect mix of suave, playful, and deeply caring, making you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

#slytherin boys x you #slytherin boys fluff #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin x reader #slytherin #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 days ago

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P*rn ☆ Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you.

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.'

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.'

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.'

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.'

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.'

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow.

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.'

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.'

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.'

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down.

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement.

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it.

'So?'

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara.

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?'

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.'

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.'

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To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression.

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that.

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right.

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow.

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant.

And a switch flicks in your head.

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him.

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.'

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you.

'You know Tara?' You nod.

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway.

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second.

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully.

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The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start.

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content.

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did.

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy.

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky.

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition.

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would.

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips.

And then he presses record.

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k1mbe3rly · 3 days ago

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toxic myung-gi head cannons?🙏 luv me some toxicness

Myung-gi toxic head cannon

warnings: extreme toxic behavior, obsessive behavior, mean myung gi, edging, overstimulation.

(sorry if it’s bad😓😓)

• Myung-gi is the type to most likely go thru your phone when you leave it behind and check everything, photos, recently deleted, and socials

• once he automatically finds something he doesn’t like he goes beyond, he confronts you and makes you explain and if he doesn’t like your explanation he gets a bit aggressive

• Once you pull out “Why are you even going thru my phone without my consent?!” card, he’ll make everything seem like he didn’t do nothing wrong, he accuses you of cheating or hiding something from him

• He would probably bend you over and shove his full length into you as a “punishment” but probably just wants to fuck you.

• He’ll overstimulate as a punishment as well, trying to get every last orgasm out of you at least 5, his thrust are really sloppy since it’s mixed with your juices and cum and his cum.

• If yall are in public and notices your catching up with an “old male friend” he automatically gets so possessive and jealous, he literally stares into the poor guys soul not caring about anything. He even tries to include himself in the conversation. the second he notices him or you being too friendly, he’s quick to drag you away.

• he takes you somewhere private and yells at you, maybe a slight degrading, “You little slut! you just wanted to catch my attention huh? you just wanted to make me jealous!”, and with that your pressed against a wall getting fucked, plunging his cock deep inside you while whispering dirty things into your ear “Is this what you wanted huh? to get me all worked up hm? c’mon. you can tell me the truth.” he says as he keeps thrusting in and out with one hand slightly gripping onto your hips and the other on the wall

• He likes to take control of the relationship and make everything go his way, he wants to make all the decision like what you wear and what you do, and if you don’t listen he starts crashing out, he makes you feel bad and sometimes, RARELY blackmails you and eventually you give in and follow what he wants

• Once he saw you wearing a revealing outfit, he got so pissed and let’s just say you were not able to cum for at least that afternoon, he spends the whole night or day teasing you and fingering you but not once letting you cum at all, which makes you whine and cry out as he gives you a slight slap on the face. “Be grateful i’m even giving you anything. Stop whining or else i’m not gonna let you cum.” he says while pushing your hips down back onto the mattress as he was eating you out.

• But overall he is a good boyfriend just very toxic when he gets jealous and possessive, He does love you a lot and admires you, one of his excuses of being so controlling is, “I’m just worried about you! i really do love you, im looking after you! what don’t you understand about that!”

#squid game #squid game smut #myung gi #lee myung gi #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #squid game x reader

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insidekatmind · 3 days ago

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A Return~Virgil Van Dijk

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The sun was setting behind the hills, turning the sky orange as you and your daughter sat on the couch. The little girl, with her brown curls loose, giggled as you stroked her hair, but inside you felt a knot in your stomach. Virgil was thirty minutes late. It wasn’t new, but it infuriated you every time.

“When’s daddy coming?” your daughter asked, looking up at you with those big, innocent eyes.

“Soon, honey,” you lied softly.

As you tried to hide your frustration, a sharp knock on the door made you jump. It wasn’t the gentle sound of someone knocking politely. It was a firm knock, almost impatient. You stood up, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, and went to answer the door.

Virgil Van Dijk was there, with that imposing presence and charm that had once made you lose your mind. His dark eyes were studying you, but they were cold, distant. He was wearing a black leather jacket, and his familiar scent, a mix of wood and spice, hit you like a punch in the gut.

"Hey," he said, barely a whisper. No apology. No explanation.

Behind him, a red Mustang convertible gleamed in the sunset light.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're late, Virgil."

He raised an eyebrow, as if it didn't concern him in the slightest.

"It's not a problem, is it?" he said in that calm, almost mocking voice.

"It is when our daughter waits for you for half an hour."

Virgil's eyes moved past you, to the little girl who was watching from the doorway with a confused expression.

"Hi, baby," he said, smiling slightly.

The little girl ran up to him eagerly. "Daddy!"

The sight broke your heart. How could he be so cold to you, but so sweet to her?

He picked her up in his arms and kissed her cheek, then turned to you.

"Can I carry her now?"

"love go to the kitchen for a second I have to talk to your father" you say to the little girl and she nods

"Okay mommy", he said happily, leaving you alone. He lets out another smirk as he looks down on you.

"What?" he said, his arms still crossed over his chest.

you walk closer to him "don't give me that look you know what I want to say"

he responds with a chuckle, his smirk not fading from his face.

"yeah I know." he said, his voice lowering slightly as you walked closer to him. "what do you want?"

"stop acting like that and take responsibility" you say angrily

he rolls his eyes, annoyed.

"here we go again", he said, leaning against the door frame. "it's always the same with you. And what exactly am I supposed to take responsibility for?"

you look at him in shock and move closer to him "are you seriously asking me that?" you ask angrily

his smirk fades with your answer. His irritation is now written all over his face. He lets out a huff as he looks at you.

"Of course I'm asking. I've done a lot more than you ever have." he snapped, towering over you.

you look at him in shock "oh really? and what would you have done?"

he looks at you with narrowed eyes, leaning in closer. His chest is inches away from touching you.

"I was the only one who took care of our daughter. Since we got divorced, all you did was-" he pauses, taking a breath and calming down. "I was the only one who supported her financially while you were away partying somewhere."

you look at him in shock "Don't make me look like something I'm not" you whisper angrily as you lean closer to him and you were so close

he stiffens as you get closer to him, your bodies almost touching. His gaze darkens as you get closer.

"Oh really? So tell me, what did you do then?" he said softly, lowering his head to bring his face closer to yours.

you glare at him "I take care of her, I feed her, I comfort her which you don't do" you raise your toes to get closer to his face to throw these things back at him

His jaw tightens, he clearly doesn't like what you're saying about him. He leaned in too, his breathing getting heavier as his eyes flashed.

"Bullshit. I take care of her," he snapped, his hands clenched into fists. Suddenly he put his hands on your waist, squeezing them tightly. "But at least I was the one who was actually there for her. You were too busy with parties and men to even worry about her."

"oh now I'm the one who attends the parties?" you look at him and Virgil looks at your lips

He looks down at your hands resting on his chest, as he moves even closer to you. He swallows, trying to hold it in.

“It felt like you were in on it. Especially with that bartender last week,” he says, conjuring up an old memory and holding you tighter.

“We broke up before,” you whisper, and he leans in to your lips.

“Not officially,” he says, still not letting go of the memory so easily.

He leans his face closer to yours, stopping with his lips inches from yours.

“You were mine.” He says, his voice barely a whisper. “At least you were then.”

You look at him, trying not to give in, but Virgil kisses you and picks you up, carrying you to the couch. The kiss was fiery, passionate, and held all the feelings you’ve left unsaid.

He lifts you up and places you on the couch, balanced on top of you. He leans down, hands on either side of your head as he looks down on you.

He takes a moment, admiring the view from above. He smirks, shaking his head slightly.

"God, you look so good like this," he said softly, his eyes wandering over your body.

Virgil begins to kiss your neck as you lift your dress and remove your panties. "Always so sexy," Virgil murmurs near your neck. He kisses it softly, before biting and sucking on it. He moans, and the feeling of your soft skin under his lips sends shivers down his spine.

"You're killing me, you know. This damn dress." he says, his hand stroking your bare thigh.

You moan and watch as he pulls down his jeans and boxers and enters you. You both moan as he adjusts his thick cock inside you.

"Always so fucking tight," he moans softly and pushes hard, not caring about going slow.

He moans when he feels you around him, closing his eyes and gripping your hips tightly with his hands. He lowers his head, resting it in the crook of your neck. He takes a moment, trying to calm himself.

"God, you feel so good. I've missed you so much." he murmurs and starts to push himself hard inside you again making you moan loudly.

"Virgil" you moan as you scratch his back and he moans loudly pushing himself animalistically inside you.

"Look at how you take your ex's cock, you like it yes, she was always good for me" he murmurs nibbling on your neck and you moan.

He lifts his head and looks down at you. He watches you intently, his eyes filled with desire and need.

“Holy shit, I won’t last long here,” he said, a chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down between the two of you. “You’re too damn good.”

You moan and arch up before cupping his face and kissing it. It was a sloppy kiss with tongues clashing. You moaned into the kiss as Virgil pushed himself deeper into you.

His hands grip your hips, moving you in time with his thrusts. He breaks the kiss, panting against your lips.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He said, his face scrunched up in the overwhelming pleasure.

You moan and cling to him. “Me too, baby,” you whisper, moaning.

He moans at your words, his hips now moving sporadically, the pleasure becoming too much.

"F-Fuck. Baby, I'm gonna-" he cuts himself off, throwing his head back and letting out a loud moan as he pushes his hips harder, pounding into you and you moan, cumming all over his cock.

He groans at the way you're squeezing his cock and cums inside you. Virgil rides his release, his body tensing against you. He rests his head against your shoulder, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"You're going to be the death of me," he says, lifting his head to look at you. He lifts a hand to caress your face and his eyes scan your twitching body.

"I love you so much, do you know that?" he whispers. You sigh and caress his face, "yes."

He leans into your touch, smiling as you caress his face. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off you and laying next to you. He places an arm over your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“let's give it another chance” you whisper and Virgil smiled.

He looks down at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. "You mean that?" he said, still not entirely believing it.

He brings one of his hands up to move a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gentle against your skin.

You nod.He grins in response, the smile growing wider."I'm gonna do this right this time. I promise." he says, pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you.

Hearing his words you smile and hug him. He holds you against his chest, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms.

He rests his chin atop your head, a content sigh leaving his lips. "I missed this. I missed having you in my arms." he said, pulling you closer.

“me too,” you whisper softly.

He smiles, running a hand through your hair. "I'm really sorry for how I acted before. I was an idiot. I should've tried to fix things instead of just blowing them away." he said, leaning a bit down to look at you.

“it’s ok” you whisper caressing his back. "now you're here."He smiles, his eyes closing as he feels your fingers run along his back.

"Yeah, I'm here." he said, holding you tighter against his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. Not this time. I swear."

A comfortable silence wrapped around the two of you like a warm blanket, his steady heartbeat syncing with yours as you lay together. His arms, strong and protective, held you as if afraid you'd slip away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe him.

Your fingers traced lazy patterns along his back, lingering on old scars and familiar curves. Each touch was a quiet reassurance — a promise spoken without words.

"You don’t have to swear," you murmured, your voice soft but sure. "I believe you."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. But all he found was trust — fragile, yes, but real. His lips curved into a tender smile, one that melted the walls you had built.

"I missed you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "More than I ever thought possible."

You nodded, your forehead resting against his. "I missed you too. But you’re here now. That’s all that matters."

He kissed you then — slow, deliberate, and full of everything words couldn’t express. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was an unspoken vow. A promise of forever.

As he settled back into the embrace, holding you close like you were his entire world, you closed your eyes and let yourself breathe. The storm was over.

He was home.

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noxitsnox · 3 days ago

Text

your first date with hyun-ju — headcanons

hyun-ju x gn!reader

summary: the first time you asked her out and how the night went.

tags: pre/no squid game, fluff fluff fluff, shy hyun-ju and shy reader (it's their first date, okay? they're both awkard), they kiss like once towards the end, mention of being tipsy (?)

a/n: i can't believe i've read all the x reader under her tag... i need more fics or i'll actually explode.

she moved in a house near yours, but you two never really talked to each other until almost a year after.

you were walking home after shopping when the bag containing the fruit broke. you were desperately trying to follow and catch every apple and orange that was rolling on the ground, but it with both your hands full of bags it was difficult.

thankfully hyun-ju was passing by and seeing you struggling she decided to catch them for you and help you carrying your groceries home.

you were really grateful and to thank her you offered her a coffee and some cake you baked a couple of days earlier. at first she refused, telling you she didn't want to bother you and take away any of your time, but you insisted.

after that day you two slowly got closer and closer and not so slowly you started to have a crush on her.

even though you felt like hyun-ju liked you too it took you months to ask her out.

you wanted the moment to be perfect but it never seemed to arrive.

at the end, you asked her out after dinner. that night you went over to her house for dinner as you would usually do and by the end of the night you two were both a little tipsy.

"i want to go out and have dinner with you," you said randomly while clearing the table- she already started washing the dishes. "you just had dinner with me, silly." her laughter filled the small kitchen. you pouted and approached her, staring at her for a few seconds before speaking again. "i mean, i want you to be my date at dinner, not my best friend." her face lit up red and she whispered a little oh.

definitely not the perfect moment you had imagined, but it worked. you and her went on a date the week after.

you booked a table at a restaurant near your home. it was nice but not too fancy and it was close enough to walk that.

that night she met you outside of your house to walk together to the restaurant. Her look was very simple but that didn't make her less beautiful. she was breathtaking. and you told her obviously.

since this is setted during the very early stages of her transition i think she'd wear something like black somewhat-baggy trousers a some cute shirt/tank top.

her hair are styled as usual, but she would have a hair clip the same color as her shirt.

it was extremely awkard ay first. It seemed like all the complicity you had was gone and replaced by tension and embarrassment.

but by the time the food arrived things went back to normal. you realized that there was no need to act different. hyun-ju was still hyun-ju and you were still you.

and now that's the best night of your life.

you stayed at the restaurant until closing time- when they practically kicked you out- telling each other about your lives, dreams and everything.

you said goodbye in front of hyun-ju's house and there you shared your first kiss together.

it was a simple kiss on the lips that she gave you as you were leaving, but it was still enough to male you smile like an idiot the whole night.

a/n: i definitely did not chose her outfit based on the only thing I've been wearing for like the past two years

#cho hyunju #hyun ju squid game #player 120 #cho hyunju x reader #hyunju x reader #player 120 x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game #🦑:sg

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withleeknow · 3 days ago

Text

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood.

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all.

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything.

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway.

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying.

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear.

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still.

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent.

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was.

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it.

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him.

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?”

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen.

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

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hyperfocusthusly · 3 hours ago

Text

Lifelines

——-

Tommy had been staring at his phone, typing out a message, an apology, anything. He always ends up deleting it. Over and over, so when it actually rings in his hand he almost drops it. The news hits him like a train, pushes everything else to the background.

His sister is dead. Her and her husband, car accident, didn’t stand a chance.

The flight is bad, the funeral worse and then someone from social services shows up with a baby he met once when she was newborn and only really recognises from pictures. The woman hands him a 6 month old child and explains that this is what they wanted. The will stipulated that he would be their guardian in such a circumstance.

He stares at her tiny face. She stares back.

He shuts the door and wonders how anyone could think this was the right choice.

——-

He has to tell his Captain. He chooses to tell Lucy. He distinctly chooses not to tell anyone else.

——-

Babies are hard, as it turns out. There’s no room for grief with an insistent baby taking up every waking second. No rest from being relentlessly needed. No telling her she’d be better off without him.

He thinks about calling.

While he watches her crawl down his hallway after a woodlouse, pointing insistently, letting out an excited little “ah!” as the bug in question scuttles under the shoe rack. She follows it carefully, watching with an intense curiosity that makes something churn deep inside Tommy’s chest.

He thinks about calling.

The first time she gets a fever and won’t settle unless she’s upright on his chest. It’s not the first time Tommy has gone 24 hours without sleep but it feels worse. His nerves scraped raw from her distress. His hand on her back counting her breaths over and over. He thinks about calling.

But what could he possibly say?

——-

The secrecy works until it doesn’t. Until the morning that Chimney is stood in the local doctor’s car park watching Tommy, darker eyed and more scruffy, strap an 8 month old into a seat in the back of his truck. Tommy doesn’t see him, or hear Jee whisper “is that Uncle Tommy daddy? Is that his baby?”

——-

It’s how Chimney ends up stood outside of Tommy’s door one lunchtime. He isn’t home but Chimney knows he needs to wait. He knows what trying to handle a baby that age by yourself is like.

When Tommy gets home and sees who is waiting for him Chimney has to give him credit for actually pulling into the driveway rather than continuing in the opposite direction.

Tommy gets out of the car, Chimney doesn’t miss the moment he takes to collect himself before looking up to him.

“What are you doing here Howie?” He sounds ragged.

“Just checking in, two months is too long, I’m sure someone owes someone a beer.”

He goes for light hearted, trying to ease out some of the tension that has appeared in Tommy’s stance. He is hovering by the back door of his truck, fingers tucked into the door handle, endlessly thankful that she closed her eyes and fell asleep on the drive home. Something hovers in the air between them until Chimney takes a step forward.

“I saw you at the doctor’s last week.” Tommy’s brows crease slightly, then pull back as he realises what Chimney is actually telling him.

“Are you going to hide her from me forever?” Tommy looks relieved somehow, less trapped. He shakes his head and carefully takes her out of the car. Settling her into the crook of his arm and pulling her diaper bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t really drink beer too much anymore.”

“A coffee then?”

“Yeah.” He swallows nervously, tries not to let the implications of this meeting, and the conversation he knows is coming, get to him. “I could do with a coffee.”

—-

[read on A03]

Tagging some people who interacted with my abstract post about this (hope you enjoy!🫶🏻);

@leashybebes @beanarie @accefan-blog @big-urchin-energy @loucifersbitch @fyrehose @evansbuck-ley @sad-girl-hours23 @certifiedbisexualdisaster @theweewooshow @beckym2001 @kinardevans

And also some beloved pals;

@bidisasterevankinard @rubydaiquiri @sweaters-and-silly @apassingbird @sunnywithachanceofbi @theotherbuckley @desert--moonchild @comfortingevanbuckley @livelaughlou @epiphainie @actuallyitsellie @typicalopposite @wikiangela @bi-bi-buckleys @littlepaws9 @ohithankyou

#ahhhhh #not this silly little idea that took root #also accepting any suggestions for names #me with a megaphone: name! that! baby!#there will be more #but for all those who asked ye shall receive #single dad Tommy fic #life line #my post #my writing #bucktommy #(eventually)#tommy kinard #911 #911 fanfic #chimney han #bucktommy fanfic

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songbirdseung · 21 hours ago

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faking sick / sim jaeyun

how were you gonna say no to your boyfriend who was cutely pouting and begging you to stay home by just clinging to you like a leech? gotta tell your boss you aren't making it into work today.

it was almost time for you to get up and start preparing for the day, but jaeyun had other plans. his arms were wrapped around you in a bear hug so tight it was like he thought you might disappear if he let go. his hold was warm and comforting, and the soft rise and fall of his chest against your back made it even harder to think about leaving the bed.

"jaeyunie, let go. i need to get up and go to work," you murmured, attempting once again to pry his arms off. but instead of loosening, he only tightened his grip, burying his face deeper into your neck. his voice was muffled but clear enough as he whined, "do you really want to leave me all alone, lonely, bored, and sad in this house by myself? how cruel of you, baby."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his exaggerated tone, but a smile crept onto your face. jaeyun wasn’t always this clingy, but when he was, it was undeniably adorable. it was one of those rare mornings when he was a total cuddle bug, and you loved every second of it, even if it made getting out of bed a challenge.

"jake, stop being dramatic," you teased, lightly patting his arm. instead of letting go, he gasped in mock offense, giving your hip a gentle slap. "oh, excuse me for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend who is clearly taking me for granted," he shot back, pouting like a child.

you laughed softly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. "i do love spending time with you, but i really have to get ready," you said, though the resolve in your voice was weakening.

"just stay a little longer," he pleaded, his voice softening into a gentle whisper. "i promise i’ll make it worth your while."

his words sent a warm shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve cracking. how could you say no when he looked at you with those sleepy eyes, full of adoration? "jake..." you began, but the words faltered as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

"please?" he added, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to tip you over the edge. the thought of leaving this warmth, this comfort, seemed unbearable.

with a deep sigh, you finally relented. "okay, fine. you win," you muttered, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. quickly, you typed out a message to your boss, explaining that you weren’t feeling well and needed to take a sick day. as you hit send, jaeyun’s face lit up with a triumphant smile.

"yes!" he cheered softly, pulling you even closer. "best decision you’ve made all week."

"you’re impossible," you said, though you were already melting into his embrace.

"i know, but you love me for it," he teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"i do," you admitted, snuggling deeper into his arms. "but you better make this day worth it."

"oh, trust me," he said with a smirk, "i have big plans for us."

with that, the two of you settled back into the warmth of the bed, the world outside forgotten for a little while longer.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #jake #jake sim #jake sim imagines #jake sim x reader #jake enhypen #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake #sim jake

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nakylvr · 2 days ago

Note

Okay so first request is in fact not a smut one! Instead i would like to request the kats reaction to gn reader being clumsy and stupid and injuring themself in ridiculous ways

Great example: my dumbass last night. I was looking for my scissors and forgot I had them on my lap and then turned and punctured myself with my scissors by my pelvic area so yesterday and today I've been having trouble walking and moving my left leg 😭

N e ways i would just like comfort from the kats bc i am a stupid clumsy idiot

-trans dude anon

as someone who rarely gets injured but when injured is injured extremely bad...i tried my best here 😭🙏

warnings/tags: established relationship, gn!reader, mild language

sophia

sophia is the least surprised whenever someone gets hurt, including you. will she react the same every time as if you're bleeding out dying even when you just stub your toe on something? yes. but, it's the thought that counts! so when she hears a yelp from inside the apartment, she's not surprised when she rounds the corner to see you mumbling under your breath about how that table should be moved by now while standing on one leg. and yet, she still rushes over to you asking if you're okay and what happened. depending on how bad the injury is determines how badly she freaks out, and if there's any blood whatsoever she's taking it like you're bleeding out, putting you on the couch and getting the first aid kit. it's safe to say she's gotten used to you getting injured randomly throughout the day, but she still babies you every time like it's the first time getting hurt around her. it's the same if you're sick. she'll do anything to make sure you feel better especially if it was a more serious injury, doing literally everything before you can even think of asking her. she just knows. it's a little scary sometimes.

manon

manon is also not that surprised whenever you get hurt because of how many times it happens. she expects it by now but it still shocks her when she hears you yell from across the room or wherever you are. she is already walking towards you with the first aid kit before you can even call for her and she just shakes her head seeing you get hurt doing something stupid again. that being said, she also babies you, but not as much as sophia. she likes taking care of you and she doesn't get to do it often, so she does everything in her power when she is. she makes sure you're completely okay before helping you into bed or on the couch and puts the first aid kit away before coming back to you. her go to way to comfort anyone, including herself is watching comfort shows/movies, so that's exactly what she does once she ensures you're okay and she can relax a little bit, laying down next to you and putting something you like on the tv. she may call you an idiot for the ways you get hurt sometimes, but she means well and you can tell in her eyes that she's genuine every time she helps you whenever you injure yourself accidentally.

daniela

dani might or might not laugh in your face at times depending on how you got hurt. if she witnessed it especially. it's her first instinct if it's funny how you got hurt before she quickly hurries over to you and checks to see if you're okay. she doesn't mean to laugh, she just honestly can't help it sometimes. she does apologize for laughing if you're actually hurt, and she wouldn't do it again if it was a serious injury. she might actually scold you a little bit if it was a bad injury because of your clumsy ass while helping you with the first aid kit, mumbling curses under her breath about how one day you'll hurt yourself really bad. it's a little surprising but just tell her that you're fine, that you won't hurt yourself too badly, and she'll lighten up a little bit. but, she's not leaving your side ever. she knows you well enough to know you can get injured anywhere so she now does everything to ensure you don't get hurt, but it still happens sometimes unfortunately for her. she'll still scold you after every time.

lara

lara also might laugh, occasionally if she knows you're not seriously hurt. she can tell the difference in how you react when you get hurt if it's serious or not, and that's what determines how she reacts to it. if it's not serious, she just shakes her head while jokingly saying how clumsy you are but still helping you and babying you a bit. if it's serious then she's serious, she doesn't fuck around when you're actually hurt. she is immediately getting the first aid kit when she hears you yell and she is the calmest one to help you with the injury. the way her whole demeanor changes is surprising every time, and when she looks at you and asks if you're okay with genuine eyes and a soft voice you just fall more in love with her. she won't leave your side until she knows 100% you're okay and back to normal, calling out of schedules if she has to to make sure you're better.

megan

megan is nearly as bad as you. it's terrible. one of you is injured most of the time if not both of you. one day she'll be helping you and the next you'll be helping her it's never ending honestly. and somehow she freaks out every time you get hurt. as if you're dying on her! she tries her best to help you but there are times where she just gives you reassuring words while you patch yourself up if she can't. but she is doing everything under the sun for you if you get hurt more seriously. anything you ask of her she will do, and she'll ask you every ten minutes if you need anything or how you're doing. you want something to eat? she's driving to your favorite place and bringing it back for you. you want to watch a movie and relax? she's bringing every blanket and pillow possible and dimming the lights in case you fall asleep. she's down bad and it shows whenever you're hurt.

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holylulusworld · 2 days ago

Text

Roll the dice (1)

Summary: You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: mafia au, angst, mentions of criminal activities, mentions of sickness, mentions of stealing, scared reader, bruises, hand around throat (non-sexual)

Catch up here: Roll the dice (Prologue)

Holding your breath, you watch it land on… 3

“Three,” you murmur, scared to the bones. While Steve smirks darkly, you wring your hands. This can’t be good. Of course, it can’t. All your life, you never had luck in the game. Why change your bad luck now? “What does it mean?”

Steve crouches down to grab the dice. He chuckles as you try not to faint. His cheer presence is intimidating. Having him up close while he holds your life in his hands is terrifying.

“OH, you got lucky, doll,” he taunts. Steve grabs your hand to place the dice in the palm of your hand. “Three means roll the dice again.”

“Again—” you whimper. Rolling the dice once was scary, and you made peace with death, even embraced it with open arms to end this nightmare you’re living in. Rolling it again means doom. “No… please decide.”

“I don’t make the rules,” he lies while his smirk deepens. His cheeks dimple and he almost looks like a beautiful angel, if not for the dangerous glimmer in his ocean-blue eyes. “How about I explain what every number means before you roll the dice again?”

A question is not in his words. He will tell you what the numbers mean, whether you want it or not.

You nod the moment his features darken. “Yes. Please.” You’re surprised the words come out of your mouth at all. It was a struggle to bring yourself to speak to him.

“One means quick death.” You shudder at his happy smile. “Two means painful death.” You whimper as he cups your jaw to force you to look him in the eyes. “You already know what three means.”

Steve watches your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He grins like the devil as he leans closer, his nose brushing yours.

“Four means an eye for an eye. In your case, it means paying me back my money, but ten times the amount you stole from me.” He hums when you silently start to cry. “I like five very much. It means working for me for the rest of your life. You already know about six, too.”

None of the options are appealing to you. Steve lied. There’s not a chance you get to walk out of his office alive and unharmed. You’ll never roll a six.

“So, go ahead,” he purrs your name and points at your hand. “Roll the dice again.” Steve gets back up to sit back down on his armchair, smirking as you stare at him with teary eyes. “Now!” He growls as you hesitate.

“Okay,” you sniffle and drop the dice, not even looking at it. You hold your breath and close your eyes.

“Aw, you’re a lucky lady,” Steve whistles. “A three again. Wow! I don’t think anyone ever got it two times in a row.”

You shudder. A three means you must roll the dice again. For a third time, you grab the dice and throw it toward Steve’s feet. It’s all a game to him.

“Another three,” he laughs in your face. “Pick it back up, lucky doll. Maybe this time, you’ll get a six, huh?”

Gritting your teeth, you glare at Steve. He’s toying with you, and you hate that you’re too weak to fight him. Before he can get mad, you move toward the dice to roll it again. You watch it stop at three and sniffle.

“Again.” He says.

You roll the dice. Three.

“Again, doll.”

Three.

“And again.”

Three.

You scream and throw the dice against the wall. “Why don’t you just kill me? I know this dice is manipulated!”

“You accuse me of lying!” Steve rises from his seat to grab you by your throat. “I gave you the chance to save your life! You’re not only a thief but ungrateful too!”

“It only ever shows three!” You claw at his hand, trying to get it off your throat. “Three. Three. Three!”

Heat speckles all over your face and neck. Your body becomes heavy, and your eyes flutter shut. You try to fight the invisible power dragging you into darkness, but it's useless.

“Hmm…yeah. That’s much better, isn’t it? Letting me take control over your body, life, and mind. You never stood a chance, doll.” Steve presses a kiss to your trembling lips before your head lolls back. “Did you honestly believe I would let you walk out on me? Of course, the dice shows whatever I want.”

A few weeks earlier, the night you stole from Steve…

“Steve, I don’t know why you let her get away with it. Man, she didn’t even avoid the cameras,” Bucky grunts. Steve and he are watching you walk toward the back entrance, your bag filled with the money you stole from your boss. “Let me stop her.”

“No,” Steve smirks. “I want to know why she found the guts to steal from me. She was always a shy little mouse. I wonder what happened.”

“With all due respect, that’s just stupid,” Bucky huffs. He can’t believe his friend lets a random employee get away with stealing from him. “This could ruin your reputation.”

Steve chuckles. “Buck, she won’t get far. I told Sam to keep an eye on her, and Jensen is checking on her digital life. I’m still Steven Grant Rogers, not some inexperienced newbie. Likewise, I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re playing with fire, Steve.” The brunette can only watch you sneak out of the door, the money still in your bag.

Steve grins like the wolf he is and says, “I think it will be worth it, Buck. I haven’t had much fun lately. I’ll get me a sweet little mouse to toy with...”

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia au #steve rogers x y/n #x reader #Roll the dice (1)#mobster!steve rogers

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staryscorner · 3 days ago

Text

My savior

Didn't reread this so it might have some errors ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Paring: The Salesman x Female Reader

It was a tiring day after working one of your many jobs but after your current shift you would have to run out immediately to catch the last train. You ran and yelled at someone to not let the doors close but it was too late the train had left and there you were alone at the platform with another man sitting on a bench. He called you over.

“Would you like to play a game?” He said with a cheeky smirk

“I'm sorry but I have to get to work or else I'll probably get fired.” You said in a panicked tone

“But what if you could with 100,000 Won just by beating me at ddakji” still smiling at you

You thought about it for a while…that was way more than what you would make in a night and you then agreed to play his game.

“I'll pay you for every time that you beat me but if I win you would have to pay me the same amount”

You were not expecting him to say that.

“Um sir i'm sorry but I don't have that kind of money” you said in a sheepish tone.

“Well there is another way you could pay me” He said grinning from ear to ear

“H-how?” you said trying to keep your composure

“I'll show you once we played the first round”

After playing the first round and losing miserably he looked at you and not even hesitating he lifted his hand and slapped you…

You stood there putting your hand where he had slapped you feeling the sting and almost wanting to cry but you still decided to play. You needed that money… you needed to have your child back.

After what felt like an eternity you had finally won you could feel like tears were going to fall from your eyes. He opened his briefcase and you saw that it was stacked with cash. You really wanted to continue but you knew you had to get home so you could get at least some sleep before your next job in the morning. You thanked the many for the opportunity and told him you had to leave. He looked at you a bit surprised. No one had quit the game this early, but he decided to just let you leave.

As you walked off you started to feel weak and then soon collapsed when it happened. He might be cruel but he was not a monster. He was not going to leave a women lying on the ground in the middle of the night especially you who he found quite interesting for leaving so early into the game

You woke up confused, finding yourself under a warm blanket and comfy bed. You looked around and saw that it was a fully furnished room which looked luxurious. then you hear footsteps coming closer to where you were and there he was the man from last night

“I see that your awake” he said holding a cup of coffee and having that same smirk from last night

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude” You said trying to quickly get up.

He pushed you on the bed and tucked you right back in handing you the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Drink this and tell me why you decided to play.” He said sitting near the edge of the bed.

He already knew about your situation and how much you needed that money, but he still wanted to hear you explain it

You hesitated a bit to tell him since you had only met last night, but there was something about him that made you trust him.

“Well about a year ago things were great. I was married and had a beautiful daughter. It was a perfect life, but until one day it wasn't. My ex husband began to hit me…” you paused letting out a big sigh trying to not let your emotions take over. “I tried my best to make sure he never got to my daughter . I wanted to protect her but I couldn't.” “Then one day I came home and there was no one inside”.

As tears started to stream down your cheeks he came over with tissues and tried to clean your tears away.

“I looked all over for my daughter in that house but I never found her. The police were no help and that's when I started to hire private investigators to look for her but none have ever gotten a lead. That's why I work from morning to night just so that I could pay them to look for her” You were trying to keep yourself together. Then He hugged you and held you close. You could hear his calm heartbeats which helped you.

You both stayed like that until you felt better.

“Hey how about this I will take care of all your debt and help you look for your daughter and get her back”. You sat there in shock after hearing what came out of his mouth.

“But with one condition… you go out with me” He said giving you a sly smile

He saw how fragile you are and didn't want you to go through anything like that again.

You wanted to say yes right away but could you really trust him you did like him and he was willing to help you find your daughter

“alright” you said with a hint of blush on your face

He stepped out of the room and began to make some phone calls you didn't know to who but you just laid on the bed until he got back. When he said that he found the address that your daughter and possibly your ex husband might be at.

“WHAT YOU FOUND HER JUST LIKE THAT!” You began to cry tears of happiness

“We can go to the address right now if you want?”

“Yes please I want to see my baby girl”

As soon as you finished your sentence he hurried you to a car that was already waiting for you both outside he opened the door for you to enter and after you went in he followed right behind you. From being in a rich area of seoul to a rundown and shady neighborhood you made it to an apartment building that was falling apart when you both entered it smelled rotten you reached a room that slightly opened as you both went in there was not many things inside the room but what caught your attention was a small closet that was right next to you so you decide to open it and what you saw was your worst nightmare

it was your daughter with just a small blanket covering her and she had lost so much weight. You dropped down and picked up her small fragile body. Then came footspes from the other room. It was your monster husband.

“What do you think your doing here” He started yelling at you

After saying those words he began to run towards you and holding a knife in but before he could get to you the salesman pushed him on the ground

“Dear if you don't mind, could you grab your daughter and carry her outside and don't come back in here ok? I'll be out in a few minute”

Not wanting to know what he would be doing next you grabbed your daughter and brought her to the car that was still there. He came out a bit after with a few red stains on his shirt you didn't even want to ask he then got in and asked the driver to take them to the nearest hospital as the car drove your daughter began to flutter her eyes open.

“Mommy” she asked in a weak voice

“Yes baby I'm right here” You said holding her close to your chest

He just held your hand not knowing what to do

Once you made it to the hospital the doctors took her from your arms and brought her to a room and they made you wait outside the room until they said you could come in. He was there the whole time with you making sure you were ok. Bringing you water and just comforting you. You never expected that meeting him at the station that day would bring you here and you felt love when you were with him not wanting to spend any time apart from him.

After a few hour the doctors finally came out and told you that she was in bad condition but nothing to much to worry her all you would need to do is give her the medicine that he proscribed and everything would be fine after he left you ran into the room where she was and then you saw her with the biggest smile you went over to hug her and all the stress left your body and you began to cry heavily not ever wanting to let her go the salesman came over to her bed and introduced himself as her new daddy and she loved the idea of having him as he new dad. (you did blush a bit when he said that) but these 3 days have been the most tiring but you could definitely see him had your husband and the love of your life even if he has a few screws loose thats what makes you love him even more.

A/n: OK im literally hyperfixating on this man so I just had to do something with him so this is kinda like a rant. I feel like it started off strong but I did spiral a bit on what to do with this but hope you all enjoy it!!! Pls suggest some ideas :P

#the salesman #the recruiter #squid game #x reader #one shot #angst #fluff #fanfic #gong yoo #im so tired #LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH #hyperfixation #gong yoo x reader #squid game season 2 #tw abuse #GONG YOO IS JUST SO AHHHHHHHHHHH

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quirekey · 19 hours ago

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Can I request for D-16 with a tomboy femme s/o where she has a crush on him.

Okay i may or may have not done one-sided love until i saw the s/o… 😀 my bad I HOPE THIS WORKS

[ D16 ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ d16 x cybertronian!femme!tomboy!reader ]

READER INTRO

You were one of the casual miners who never really got involved. You had a small friend group that consisted of both mechs, femmes (this includes D16). You put consistent effort into your work and only rebelled every once in a while. You were sometimes mistaken as a mech instead of a femme considering you had many traits that conflicted with the typical femme cybertronian. You had a deeper audio box, you never cared for your looks and you were more brave and rebellious than even some mechs. Because of this, you were quite popular and seen as charismatic between other miners.

HEADCANONS

- When you invited D16 to the group, he was honestly surprised. You liked his enthusiasm when it came to his idols and Sentinel and he was just a cute guy. D16 saw you as a cool miner and you reminded him of Orion so he was glad he could make a new friend. You both agreed and you didn’t know that this simple miner would make you go insane.

- Coincidentally you guys had the same shifts so you guys had a lot of one-on-one time. Because of this, you two got to know each other faster than your average friendship.

- D16’s fanboying was so dumb but cute due to how often he’d do it. Sure, he’s independent, but he’s also pretty reliant on cybertronians who remain famous for their actions. You aren’t the type to fangirl so you’d silently listen as he went on and on about every tiny detail about some bot you never even knew existed.

- Your liking for him grew big pretty fast. He was way too cute and maybe even hot for a simple bot like him. He had so much more personality than anybody else in your group and the way he gets flustered is so fun.

- Ever since you gained a crush on him, you started to tease him more. You would call him names and playfully give him light punches as greetings. This does irritate D16 quite a bit and he tells you to stop often.

- Giving him kisses was something you could never do. You may be bold for a femme, but you still had a thing called anxiety. Your charm of being a masculine femme doesn’t help nor does it stop you, and that charm was the only thing that actually could’ve helped you try to confess.

- D16 introduced you to his close friend Orion quite a while ago, so you both got along quite well. Orion always saw you coming onto D16 and shipped both of you, calling you guys a couple and perfect sparkmates. Oh, how you would get so flustered, chuckling it off while D16 argued with Orion. This only wavered your hope that D16 would like you back.

- You always were giving hints. These hints weren’t straightforward but they were there. You thought they were noticeable but they always skimmed over D16. You would hold his hands or talk about stuff that you think he would like. You would polish yourself before seeing him but he just assumes that you wanted to get a change.

- This crush thing stayed untold till the war. Seeing the guy you loved turn into the villain of the story was devastating, especially because he was unaware of your love for him. You knew you couldn’t tell him now or ever. You felt your optics dim and your spark drop when the somebody you saw as your world was banished from Iacon. You told yourself something that would linger with you for the rest of your life.

“Why did I have to be so scared?”

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #d16 #megatron #d16 x reader #d 16 #tfo #transformers x reader #headcanons #megatron x reader #tfone x reader

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sleekervae · 2 days ago

Text

Flickers | the projectionist (johnny) x reader

Masterlist

A/N: had this idea knocking around in my head for a few days. And while still not clear on his real name in the movie, I'm going with Johnny for simplicity sake.

Pairing: the projectionist (johnny) x fem!reader

Summary: late night at the cinema and a salacious book has poor johnny in a bind for his colleague.

Warnings: erotic writing, heavy smut, oral, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 4,436

Johnny first met Sophie on the tail end of a smoky September evening, the air thick with the scent of roasted peanuts from the vendor outside the theater. She was leaning against the wall near the alley, cigarette perched between her fingers, looking every bit like she belonged in one of those French pictures he sometimes screened after hours. Her boss—a producer Johnny had worked with before—had sent her ahead to fetch some reels, but it was clear from the way she moved, slow and deliberate, that Sophie wasn’t the type to rush.

She was all sharp cheekbones and sharper wit, her dark hair pinned back haphazardly as though she’d stopped caring halfway through the task. When she introduced herself, her tone was low and indifferent, like she wasn’t used to people looking twice at her. Johnny had glanced down at her shoes—simple flats, scuffed at the edges—and wondered if she realized how much attention her quiet presence commanded.

At first, they only spoke in passing, exchanging a few words while Sophie handled errands for her boss. But over time, she lingered. She’d stay after picking up reels or dropping off schedules, watching him from the doorway as he adjusted the projector.

“I didn’t think anyone still cared about this old junk,” she remarked once, arms crossed, her voice carrying a trace of amusement.

Johnny looked up from splicing a reel, the dim light catching on her pale skin. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it runs smooth. Besides, this junk’s how I pay rent.”

She laughed—a low, throaty sound—and it hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t long before she started coming around on her own time, sitting in the empty theater while he threaded film for the midnight show. She’d sit near the back, legs crossed, watching the flickering images with an intensity that made him uneasy in the best way. One night, she waited until the credits rolled to ask him:

“You ever think about what’s not on the screen? The stuff they won’t show?”

It was an odd question, but Sophie was full of those. Her curiosity was sharp and relentless, poking at ideas most people shied away from. Johnny didn’t know what to say, so she filled the silence herself, telling him about the scripts she was working on.

“They’re not normal,” she admitted, the word slipping out like a taunt. “Producers don’t like ‘em. Too weird. Too… honest.”

She wouldn’t let him read them at first, claiming they weren’t ready. But she couldn’t resist teasing him with snippets. A line of dialogue here, a provocative idea there. The more she shared, the more Johnny’s imagination took off. Her writing was raw, full of heat and longing that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with desire.

It wasn’t just her words that got under his skin. It was the way she said them—leaning close, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was sharing a secret too dangerous for anyone else to hear. Her eyes would linger on him, searching for a reaction, and he’d have to fight the urge to shift under her gaze.

Johnny wasn’t sure when he started picturing her in the scenarios she described, but once the idea took root, it spread fast. He’d catch himself watching her hands as she gestured, wondering what they’d feel like on his skin. He started noticing the curve of her lips when she spoke, the slight rasp in her voice that made everything she said sound like a proposition.

He told himself it was just curiosity—admiration for her creativity, maybe—but the truth sat heavier in his chest. Johnny was down bad for Sophie, the way she embraced the messy, carnal parts of human nature without apology. She made him feel like a character in one of her stories, teetering on the edge of something raw and thrilling.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see how far she’d let him fall.

It was one of those late nights where the air in the projection room felt heavy, the low hum of the machines lulling them into an easy rhythm. Sophie had perched herself in the chair in the corner, legs crossed, cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

“You really want to read it?” she asked, her voice a little too casual.

Johnny didn’t look up from the reel he was inspecting, though his hands faltered for half a beat. “Been asking you for weeks, haven’t I?”

Sophie smirked, but there was something sharper underneath it, like she was testing him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded stack of pages, bound with a frayed ribbon.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it messes with your head,” she said, tossing it onto the counter.

He wiped his hands on his trousers before picking it up, the weight of her work feeling heavier than it should’ve. The title scrawled across the top in her loopy handwriting read Flickers.

Johnny picked the script off the counter, his fingers brushing the ribbon binding it together. The room felt warmer now, Sophie’s proximity a heavy presence that made it harder to focus. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a scene near the middle—words catching his eye like fireflies in the dark.

He cleared his throat, half for himself and half to test the waters. “Mind if I…”

Sophie raised a brow, but there was a softness to her smirk. “Go ahead... If you dare.”

The challenge in her voice spurred him on, and he began to read.

“'Paul's hands traced the curves of her body, firm and possessive. His voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he demanded, "Tell me how much you want me." Lucille gasped, her body responding eagerly, guiding his hands to where she needed him most.'

“'His grip tightened around her as he felt her body molding to his touch, her warmth enveloping him. His tongue darted out to taste her skin, and she shivered beneath him in response. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him as he traced patterns over her stomach and sides with his fingers. The softness of her skin sent shockwaves of desire through him, and he growled low in his throat. His hands found their way up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently before pulling on her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Lucille threw her head back with a soft moan, the sound echoing in the room. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of sweet perfume and primal need.”

Johnny paused, his voice trailing off as he glanced up. Sophie had turned her face away, her dark lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. But she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be—he caught the faintest curve of her lips, a smile threatening to give her away.

“Keep going,” she said softly, her tone lacking the teasing edge it usually carried.

Johnny swallowed, taking a seat in the chair beside her, “You sure?”

Her eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for just a moment too long. “I’m sure.”

He returned to the page, his voice lower now, threading through the quiet tension between them.

“‘You like watching me unravel,’ Paul murmured, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘Does it make you feel powerful?’

“She smiled—a wicked, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine. ‘It makes me feel alive.’

“With one swift motion, Paul pulled back Lucille's bustier, revealing supple curves that seemed endless in the dim light. He ran his hands along the smooth expanse of skin, tracing patterns that made her gasp and squirm beneath him. His lips followed suit, kissing and nipping along her collarbone and down towards her breasts. They stood tall and proud under his admiring gaze, begging for attention. With a soft sigh, he bent down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. Lucille cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back off the bed.”

Johnny stopped again, unable to ignore the way Sophie shifted closer to him, her knee brushing against his thigh. “This is… something else,” he murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Sophie finally turned to him, her cheeks flushed but her smile unshaken. “You like it?”

He let out a low laugh, setting the script down but keeping his eyes on her. “I think you’re trying to get me in trouble.”

She bit her lip, that wicked, knowing smile from the page mirrored on her face now. “Or maybe I just know what I want,” she said, her voice quiet but sure, “Keep going,” she urged.

The room suddenly felt claustrophobic as the scene unfold. His heart raced as Paul buried himself between Lucille's legs, read how she moaned and screamed for him, their encounter brimming with unbridled desire. Every word and gesture built to a tantalizing climax, sending Johnny's mind reeling with fantasies. But it wasn't Paul or Lucille anymore; it was him and Sophie. Her seductive smirk and intense gaze held him spellbound, igniting a fire within him that he could not resist.

“You write like this all the time?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Only when I feel inspired,” Sophie replied, standing now. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, as though testing just how far she could push him. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He set the pages down, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Do I?”

The silence between them thickened, charged with all the things Johnny wasn’t saying. The way her scripts had lodged themselves in his brain, filling the quiet moments with flashes of heat. The way she seemed to know, without him ever admitting it, how badly he wanted her.

Sophie closed the distance between them, stopping just short of touching him. “If you’re too shy to finish, I can always act it out for you,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny’s breath hitched. He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but the way her eyes lingered on his lips told him she wasn’t.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

Sophie smirked, leaning in until her mouth was inches from his. “Who says I can’t?”

And that was it—whatever thin thread of control Johnny had been clinging to snapped. He closed the gap, his hands gripping her waist as their mouths collided. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, her body pressing into his as though daring him to take more.

The pages of her script fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as Johnny pulled her into his lap, her legs falling on either side of him. Sophie’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching against his lips. She didn’t hold back—her movements were confident, commanding, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.

For Johnny, it wasn’t just about the heat of the moment. It was the way Sophie unraveled him, her words and presence stripping him bare until there was nothing left but want. She made him feel like he was part of her story, and for once, he didn’t care if it had a happy ending.

The room was awash with raw desire and urgency as Johnny's hands fumbled to undo the intricate clasps of Sophie's bustier, the fabric falling away to reveal the soft curve of her skin. Sophie's nails grazed down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as she leaned in to capture his lips hungrily. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as Johnny tore off her dress in a rush, his movements desperate and primal.

Sophie gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch as he explored every inch of her exposed skin. Her hands were everywhere at once, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The air crackled with electricity between them, passion igniting like a wildfire that threatened to consume them whole.

Their kiss deepened, becoming a symphony of need and longing that echoed through the room. Johnny's hands roamed over Sophie's body, memorizing every curve and

dip, every smooth plane and luscious valley that lay beneath the surface. He traced her spine with reverence, his fingers dancing down the small of her back and around to cup her hip, pulling her against him in a desperate plea for contact.

Sophie whimpered into his mouth, her own hands finding their way beneath his shirt, tracing the muscular lines of his abdomen as she felt the heat radiating off of him. The fire between them was building, growing in intensity until it threatened to consume them both in its fervor. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way before – so alive, so consumed by a need that seemed to pulse through her very veins.

And then Johnny's lips were on her neck, trailing kisses down to where her pulse raced wildly beneath the surface. And despite herself, Sophie's knees began to weaken. His teeth gently nipped at the tender skin of her shoulder, sending shivers of desire coursing through her veins. She could feel the heat from his body seeping into hers, warming her to her very core. And as much as she tried to fight it, it was impossible to deny the sheer power that he held over her in this moment.

The room was spinning with a mix of lust and adrenaline, the two of them lost in a whirlwind of passion that threatened to consume them both. Johnny's breath was hot against her skin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone until he finally reached the delicate curve of her breasts.

She gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking gently on the taut nipple while running his hands down over her hips and towards the sway of her backside. Sophie moaned softly into his hair, her hands fisting in his shirt as she arched her back, the pleasure coursing through her. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, anything she could write—a fire burning bright within her that only he could fan into flames.

As his lips moved from one breast to the other, Sophie's breath became ragged, her body trembling with need. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer still. She felt like she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and she was powerless to resist it.

Johnny's hands trailed down her back, tracing the curve of her hips before sliding beneath her, lifting her onto the chair. She let out a soft gasp as he settled her onto the wooden frame, his strong arms supporting her weight. The room was filled with a heavy silence punctuated only by their ragged breathing and the sound of fabric rustling as they tore at each other's clothes.

With an unspoken demand, Johnny lifted her gently and placed her on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. Her breath hitched as she realized how exposed she was, how vulnerable she felt. But in that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else. She wanted him to take her, to claim her with a passion and intensity that was like nothing she'd ever known.

Johnny pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands firm but tender as they settled on her thighs. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

Sophie blinked, her lips parted in protest, but he silenced her with a smirk that promised he wasn’t going far. He strode to the projection room door, turning the lock with a decisive click that echoed through the space.

“No interruptions,” he said, more to himself than her, before his eyes flicked back to her.

Sophie was still perched on the table, her legs slightly apart, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high. She looked at him with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, her breath shallow as he crossed the room again.

“And here — I thought you changed your mind,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Johnny’s grin deepened, his eyes dark and intent as he stepped closer. His hands settled on her waist, drawing her toward the edge of the table with an easy confidence. “Couldn’t have that,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Not when you look at me like that.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a whispered promise against her skin. “Not when I’ve been dying to know how far you’ll let me go.”

Her gasp turned into a moan as his hands slid down, tracing the curve of her hips before tugging her closer. Sophie gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as Johnny’s mouth moved to her neck, his stubble rough against her soft skin.

“Johnny…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. “You don’t want anyone hearing us, do you?”

He continued, his touch feather-light as he traced the delicate line of her stomach, her skin quivering beneath his fingers. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes closing as he marveled at the way her body arched towards him.

As she felt his fingers slide under the hem of her undergarments, she caught her breath in a sharp gasp. He looked up at her from where he knelt, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of fear. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

Sophie nodded, an array of emotions playing across her face as she met his gaze. "Yes," she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear. She wanted this; she needed this.

Johnny's eyes locked onto hers for a moment longer before they flicked lower, the heat of desire still smouldering in their depth. He took a shuddering breath, his hands steady as he pulled her underwear down, revealing the most intimate part of her. For a moment, he simply looked, drinking in the sight of her before him.

Sophie's heart threatened to burst from her chest, the sight of Johnny looking at her like that making her feel powerful and delicate all at once. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull him closer and reassure him that she was alright. But she also craved the touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his body enveloping hers in passion's embrace.

With a deep inhale, Johnny let his fingers brush against the sensitive skin before him. Sophie let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure washed over her. His touch was gentle yet firm, as if he were caressing a delicate flower with utmost care. She felt herself growing warmer, her body trembling with anticipation.

Johnny's eyes met hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he placed soft kisses along her inner thigh. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, her hands gripping the edge of the table tightly as she felt the world around her fade away.

There was something magical about this moment, something that she knew would stay with her for eternity. Johnny's experience and passion were intertwined with her own desires, creating a symphony of touch and emotion. His hands traced delicate patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing a fire to ignite within her core.

As his lips brushed against her folds, Sophie's breath hitched. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure and need, of their bodies speaking volumes without a single word being spoken. She could feel Johnny's warmth at her entrance, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with excitement.

Johnny then descended upon Sophie's slick, wet pussy like a starved animal. His tongue delved into her folds, tasting her sweet nectar, as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Sophie's back arched out as a moan escaped her lips. Her fingers threaded through Johnny's hair, pulling him closer as he devoured her.

His tongue darted in and out of her pussy, fucking her with it like a little cock. He teased her entrance, tasting her sweet juices before plunging deeper. Sophie's hips bucked as she ground herself against his face, desperate for more. Her moans grew louder as her pleasure built, her breath hitching with every flick of Johnny's tongue against her clit.

Her legs trembled as she felt her orgasm building. Johnny's skilled tongue worked her into a frenzy, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held her in place. She could feel herself on the edge, ready to tumble over into pure ecstasy. With one final flick of his tongue, Sophie came undone.

Her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave. Sophie's eyes rolled back into her head as she cried out in pleasure. Johnny continued to lick and suck at her pussy, drawing out every last shiver and shudder of her orgasm. When Sophie finally came down from her high, Johnny looked up at her with a smug smile on his face.

"Good girl," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Sophie could only blush and pant in response, still reeling from the most intense orgasm of her life. Johnny's mouth on her pussy had been filthy and depraved, but she couldn't get enough. She knew she'd be begging for more in no time.

With a smile that promised more, Johnny stood and pulled his pants down, his impressive erection bobbing in front of them. Sophie smiled up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached out to him, her fingers tracing the length of his cock.

"Take me," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I’m all yours, Johnny."

Johnny positioned himself at Sophie's entrance and slowly pushed inside. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her up, stretching her tight hole until she was overflowing with him. He began to move, his body slamming into hers with a rhythm that matched their hearts' desires.

Sophie's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Johnny's cock pound against her insides. She met every stroke with a moan or a whimper, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him for dear life. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—skin slapping against skin, breaths becoming ragged gasps for air.

The air in the room was thick, their bodies entwined in a rhythm that left no room for restraint. Johnny's movements were deliberate yet teasing, each thrust pulling a gasp from Sophie's lips. His mouth found her ear, his breath hot and unrelenting as he whispered.

"Is this how you pictured it?" he murmured, his tone laced with a wicked edge. "When you wrote those words—was it me you imagined, Sophie?"

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tried to find balance amidst the chaos he was unleashing on her. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe beyond the sensation of him inside her.

"You’ve got a filthy imagination," Johnny continued, his voice dripping with mock admonishment, though his thrusts deepened with every word. "I read every line, you know. Every single detail. Do you squirm when you write it? Did you get this wet just thinking about it?"

Sophie’s moan was all the response he needed, her head falling back as she clung to him, desperate for more. Her body betrayed her, arching into his touch, meeting every movement with equal fervor.

He chuckled, low and rough, his teeth grazing her neck. "Thought so. You’re squeezing me like you never want me to stop." His hand slid to her thigh, lifting it higher to anchor her against him. "So tell me, Sophie—am I better than your story?"

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Y-you’re better,” she managed, though her voice was barely a whisper, “So fucking better.”

"That’s what I thought," Johnny growled, his lips crashing against hers as he drove them both closer to the edge. Sophie arched her back as he reached between them to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

"Come for me again," he commanded, nibbling at her ear while still teasing her clit. With a cry, Sophie obeyed, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to move inside her.

Never had she felt so alive, so desired. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as their bodies moved as one, lost in the haze of desire and passion. Johnny's lips found hers once more, their tongues tangling in a messy dance of lust and love.

He pulled out at the last moment, his come splattering against her swollen clit. She cried out in ecstasy as he filled her up again, painting her insides with his release. And then they collapsed together in a heap on the table, their breathing ragged and heavy as they came down from their high.

Sophie couldn't believe it—she'd never felt anything like this before. This raw, unrestrained passion that burned bright between them. As she looked into Johnny's eyes, she knew that whatever words she’d written couldn’t truly capture the essence of their connection. Not like this.

Their bodies, slick with sweat and desire, lay entwined, hearts pounding in sync with the fading echoes of their passionate embrace. As their breaths slowly returned to normal, Sophie traced her fingers through the damp hair on Johnny's chest, marveling at the man before her. He was more than just a character in her story; he was real, and he had brought her words to life in a way she never thought possible.

Johnny turned his head towards her hand and captured it in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "That was... incredible," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of overwhelming emotion. "You truly are a wordsmith, Sophie."

She smiled, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing grin. "I can't take all the credit. You helped bring the idea to life."

He chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Well then, let's write another chapter, shall we?"

#david corenswet smut #david corenswet x reader #david corenswet #x reader #reader insert #smut #pearl 2022 #original story #original female character #imagine blog #18+ mdni #david corenswet superman

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littleslaywrites · 16 hours ago

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head over boots | spencer reid x farmer’s daughter!reader

summary: you bring spencer home to meet your parents and show him around the farm you grew up on

word count: 1.9k

cw: pure fluff, farm shenanigans, city boy spencer

Spencer was neat. He kept his home tidy, banishing germs before they could appear. He was indoorsy, preferring books of the wilderness over the actual thing.

So, naturally, you were nervous to bring him home. You grew up wearing dusty boots in the hot sun to shovel hay into your horses’ troughs. It seemed like your parents called every other week asking when they’d get to meet your boyfriend. You wanted Spencer to meet them, but you worried that he’d hate the farm you had grown up on.

“I want to see it,” Spencer said one night after you got off the phone with your parents.

“I just don’t want you to hate it. It’s not really your kind of place.”

“If it’s for you, I’ll do it.”

Spencer eventually persuaded you when he had three weeks off of work. While packing, you had to convince him to leave his nice sweaters behind.

“I want to look good when I meet your parents,” he protests when you pull out his oldest pair of jeans from the bottom of the drawers.

“Even if you do wear something nice, the wind will pick up and cover you in dust before you make it inside.”

You compromise by letting him pack a few nice outfits “just in case”. The two of you also go shopping for a pair of boots, so he won’t get his converse dirty. He even convinces you to let him buy a cowboy hat. You couldn’t resist when you saw how cute he looked when he put it on.

When you finally pull up to your house, your parents are standing on the porch. Spencer is clearly nervous, looking slightly out of place in his button up, old jeans, and brand-new boots.

“They’ll love you,” you reassure him as you approach the house. You’re briefly stopped by a goat that trots in front of you, causing Spencer to tentatively step around it. His avoidance is futile, as it walks up and begins to chew on his pantleg anyway. You call for him to keep walking, and he hops away until the goat leaves him alone.

“I see you’ve already met one of the livestock,” your dad calls out as you walk up the steps to the porch.

Your parents introduce themselves, and Spencer's nervousness slowly dissipates as they invite him inside and offer him something to drink. You can tell he’s growing on them with every word he speaks.

His trial isn’t over, though. “Would you mind feeding the chickens and cleaning their coop?” your mom asks the two of you as she starts to prepare dinner.

“I love cleaning,” Spencer says a little too enthusiastically. You giggle at this, knowing the type of cleaning you’re about to do is nothing like Spencer has done before.

You make your way to the back of the house, Spencer trailing behind you. When you pick up the bag of feed, he insists on carrying it for you. “It’s heavy,” he remarks once it’s up on his shoulder. You only give him a hum as a reply.

Opening the coop releases a deluge of chickens that weave in and out of your legs. Spencer squeals, trying to get up on his toes to avoid their small feet.

“Are you afraid of the chickens?”

“No,” he indignantly replies. “They were coming straight for me.”

“Will you go get us some gloves and masks from that shed over there?”

You throw some feed around as he digs through the shed. Retrieving a new bag of bedding, you watch him pull the gloves over his hands, still keeping a good distance from the chickens.

When you meet him back at the coop with the bag and a broom in hand, he’s looking even more awkward than usual, hands held away from his sides.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” you say, noticing his discomfort.

“I can do it,” he says, taking a minuscule step toward the flock.

“Then bring over that hose.”

You make work of the coop, using the broom to sweep out all the bedding. After about a minute, you call out to Spencer. “What’s taking you so long?”

“Nothing,” he mutters.

Turning around, you met with the sight of him hobbling towards you, dragging the hose between his legs.

“What on earth are you doing?”

He drops it, arms raised in a shrug to show his exasperation.

“I’ll do it,” you say, approaching him. “Finish sweeping the bedding out.”

He reluctantly picks up the broom, just slightly less awkward than he was with the hose.

When everything is out of the coop, you turn on the hose, spraying the insides with water. Spencer jogs backwards to avoid the splash, but trips on the now discarded broom and falls right into a group of chickens. They go running every which way, bawking at the intruder.

“Spencer–” You turn back, forgetting you have the hose and dampening his shirt.

“Ah!”

You drop the hose and walk towards where he’s splayed in the dirt. “Are you alright?”

“You sprayed me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t move to get up. “Are you gonna lay there all day?”

“Maybe.”

You reach a hand out, and he grabs it to stand up. He turns around and you brush as much dirt off his back as you can.

You go back to hosing down the coop, Spencer keeping a good distance from you. Letting it air dry, the two of you sit on the swing on your back porch.

“This is interesting,” Spencer remarks, foot planted on the ground to rock you back and forth.

“I warned you.”

“I didn’t say it was bad.” He takes hold of your hand, gloves now laying beside him.

“You don’t have to say it for me to know.” You look at his shirt, slowly drying in the sun. You’re sure he’s dying inside, feeling damp and dusty.

“I can put up with it,” he squeezes your hand, “if it’s for you.”

You smile. He always knows what to say to make you blush. Reluctantly rising, you pull him back to the coop. “We just have to put the new bedding in, then we're done.”

Putting your gloves back on, he tears open the bag as you dump it in. You spread it around, and step back to show Spencer your work.

“Looks good,” he says, clearly not knowing whether it’s good or bad.

“I had a terrific farmhand.”

Your mom is soon calling you in for dinner. Spencer discusses recipes with your mom and the history of the valley with your dad. You smile to yourself as you see how perfectly he fits into your home.

After dinner, you lay on the dock of the lake at the edge of the property. The stars are clear, more visible than they ever are from your apartment in the city. The wind blows the water around, a subtle sound mixing with the words Spencer whispers in your ear.

“See that one?” He’s pointing up to a star above you. “You can tell it’s hotter because of the blue color.”

You’re listening, as you always want to hear his ramblings, but only minimally. You’re distracted by the way his hair tousled by the wind, the reflection of the moon in his eyes.

“Do you want to ride the horses tomorrow?” you ask quietly. Nobody can hear you out here. You learned that during your teenage years. Yet, you still whisper. Your words are for Spencer’s ears only. Not even the fish get to know what you exchange.

“As long as I can stay dry.”

You sigh, knowing you’ll never live down the incident with the hose. “We have to get those boots dirty so people don’t think you’re a city boy.”

“I like your parents,” he interjects.

“I’m glad. I’m really glad.”

“But next time they should come visit us.”

“Farm life not for you?”

“Only for the week. Then I’ll be ready to get back to the city.”

He really looks beautiful in the moonlight. You’re grateful for him, as you’re more than aware of how far out of his comfort zone he is. He’s never judged you for your upbringing, even if it was vastly different than the daughters of diplomats that populated D.C. and were available for him to pick from. Instead, he was always interested in your past life.

Even if he didn’t enjoy the whole farm thing, Spencer liked seeing your home. He got to see the setting of all the memories you’d told him about. He could put up with the animals if it meant understanding you deeper. He has to admit that he enjoys the peace of the farm. In the middle of nowhere, there are no honking cars or noisy neighbors to cut into the tranquility.

The night settles around you two, and Spencer rubs his thumb along the curves of your fingers. The night is pleasant, and the warmth of your bodies beside each other keeps the cool breeze from chilling you.

“You know,” Spencer interrupts the silence, “I think I could get used to this. Not the chickens or the goats, but... being here with you. I could get used to that.”

“It means a lot. That you’re sharing it with me for a while.”

“I think your parents would enjoy seeing our apartment in the city. But I’d still come. Anytime you want me here, you know I’ll come.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be a true country boy, but that’s okay.” You pause to turn your head toward him. “I love that you try.”

Quiet overtakes you again. A shooting star falls from the sky, the bright light slowly fading as it plummets. You wish for more of these moments. Moments where Spencer is with you, exploring each other's lives.

Spencer wasn’t perfect for this place, and he probably never would be. However, that’s not what mattered. What mattered was that he was trying, coming here just for you. He wanted to understand you, and maybe, in doing that, he might be finding something of himself in the place you grew up.

He could use the peace, you decide. He’s always in the midst of action, mind racing as he works against the clock to save lives. Here, he could take some time to do nothing, to lay by the lake under the blanket of stars.

Spencer feels the same way, but to him, it’s not about the quiet of the farm, but rather the company. He could be anywhere in the world, and would feel the same serenity as he did here, as long as you were with him. And, with all the chickens locked in their coop and the other animals asleep in their pens, he began to enjoy the scenery. Looking at you on the dock, he could almost see a younger version of you fantasizing about the life you had now.

The farm is a place of your past. At 18, you were desperate to get out, dreaming of something beyond the isolated farmhouse at the edge of a dull town. With the addition of Spencer, though, it feels like the future. Not necessarily here, but somewhere that the two of you can lay side by side, getting to know the deepest parts of your souls.

You were still dreaming on your dock, just this time, you’re not thinking of escaping. Instead, you’re picturing more moments just like this, filled with the peace of the stars above you and the comfort of Spencer’s hand in yours.

author's note: hey everyone! i have no ideas so lmk if any of you might be interested in a second part of this and pls send requests (open for any cm characters). also life update the semester started wednesday and we have a snow day tomorrow yippee!

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid one shot

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