#and he looks so concerned and his voice is so soft and so you break and spill everything

[suunani]

mine to hold ( choi seungcheol )

▍ seungcheol gets jealous and want to claims you.

content : 1200 words, male reader, added member!reader, fluff fluff fluff, boyfriend!cheol, jealous!cheol, requested here!

the rehearsal room was alive with its usual chaos.

music pounding, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, and laughter echoing as the members of ran through another grueling practice session.

sweat dripped down your forehead as you completed the last move of the routine, panting slightly as the song ended.

“alright, five-minute break!” hoshi called, clapping his hands before flopping down onto the floor.

the members scattered to grab water or stretch, the room falling into a buzz of idle chatter.

you leaned back against the mirrored wall, wiping sweat from your brow as seungcheol handed you a water bottle.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

his hand found its usual spot on the small of your back, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“i’m good,” you replied, taking a long sip. “tired, but good.”

he hummed, his eyes scanning your face as if checking for any signs that you might be overexerting yourself. it was such a seungcheol thing to do — always worrying, always protective.

you appreciated it, though sometimes his concern bordered on overbearing.

“i’ll be fine,” you added, leaning into his touch for a moment. “promise.”

seungcheol nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. his hand lingered on your back as you both stood there, watching the other members joke around or sprawl out on the floor.

then, a voice called your name from across the room.

you turned to see a small group of backup dancers waving you over. one of them, a tall guy with bright eyes and an easy smile, motioned you closer.

“hey, can we ask you something about the routine?”

you glanced at seungcheol, who was already watching them with a wary expression.

“i’ll be right back,” you said, squeezing his arm before walking toward the dancers.

he didn’t respond, but his hand slipped reluctantly from your back, leaving a cold spot where it had been.

seungcheol stayed where he was, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. his sharp eyes tracked your every movement, his gaze narrowing slightly as he watched you laugh at something one of the dancers said.

“you’re gonna give yourself wrinkles if you keep glaring like that,” jeonghan teased, sliding up beside him.

“i’m not glaring,” seungcheol muttered, though the tension in his shoulders said otherwise.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow.

“sure you’re not. you look like you’re ready to march over there and pull y/n away by the hand.”

seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “maybe i should.”

jeonghan chuckled, clearly entertained.

“you do realize y/n isn’t doing anything wrong, right? he’s just being friendly. that’s how he’s always been.”

“yeah, i know,” seungcheol grumbled. “it’s not him i’m worried about. it’s them.”

jeonghan followed his gaze to the dancers.

one of them was standing a little too close for comfort, leaning in as if to catch every word you said. another reached out, laughing as they lightly touched your arm.

“okay,” jeonghan admitted. “i see your point. but you’re still overreacting.”

seungcheol didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing further when one of the dancers leaned down to whisper something to you. you laughed, completely oblivious to the way your boyfriend was fuming just a few feet away.

then you finally made your way back to seungcheol, you could feel the tension radiating off him like a heatwave.

“hey,” you greeted, brushing your damp hair back as you sat down beside him. “im back.”

“having fun?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

you blinked, confused. “yeah, i guess. why?”

his jaw clenched, and he tilted his head toward the dancers.

“you sure seemed to be enjoying yourself over there.”

“cheol, what are you talking about?” you asked, your brows furrowing.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“why do you have to be so nice to everyone?”

you stared at him for a moment, trying to piece together where this was coming from.

“i’m not being nice. i’m just… talking to them. what’s the big deal?”

“the big deal,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “is that they’re not just talking to you. they’re flirting.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“you don’t see it,” he continued, his frustration bubbling over. “the way they look at you. the way they stand so close. it’s like they think they have a chance with you.”

realization dawned on you, and your lips parted in surprise. “wait… are you jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he shot back quickly, though the defensive edge in his voice betrayed him. “i just don’t like people crossing boundaries.”

a slow smile spread across your face.

“oh, you are so jealous.”

“y/n,” he warned, but the blush creeping up his neck gave him away.

“cheol,” you said, your tone softening as you leaned in closer. “you know you’re the only one i care about, right? no one else even comes close.”

his shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still looked unconvinced.

“you’re too trusting,” he muttered. “not everyone has innocent intentions.”

“and that’s why i have you,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. “to scare away anyone who tries.”

a reluctant smile tugged at his lips, and he finally let himself lean into you, his arms encircling your waist.

“you think i’m scary?”

“terrifying,” you replied, grinning.

“good,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “let them be scared. maybe then they’ll back off.”

before you could respond, someone groaned loudly from across the room.

“can you two stop being gross for five seconds?” seungkwan whined, throwing a towel in your direction.

the rest of the members snickered, and even seungcheol couldn’t hold back a laugh as he caught the towel midair.

the break ended, and everyone returned to their positions for another run-through.

but seungcheol wasn’t done yet.

throughout the practice, he was extra touchy — his hand on your hips or lower back when he adjusted your posture, his arm slung casually over your waist during quick water breaks.

it wasn’t unusual for him to be affectionate, but today, it just felt… different.

“cheol, i think everyone’s watching,” you whispered as he leaned in to fix the collar of your shirt, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

“let them watch,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “maybe then they’ll get the message.”

you bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “you’re really unbelievable, you know that?”

“and you’re mine,” he said simply, his eyes locking onto yours.

by the time rehearsal ended, you were both exhausted but in high spirits.

as you packed up your things, you felt seungcheol’s arm snake around your waist once more, pulling you close.

“come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “let’s grab some dinner before we head back.”

“sounds good,” you replied, leaning into his side.

as you walked out together, you couldn’t help but notice the lingering looks from some of the dancers. but this time, instead of getting annoyed, you just smiled to yourself.

let them watch, you thought.

seungcheol’s arm tightened around you, as if he’d read your mind.

because at the end of the day, you knew exactly where you belonged. and so did he.

[mmaybanks]

❝ a pogue christmas ❞ — jj maybank

𓇼 pairing: bsf!jj x reader

𓇼 summary: the pogues are celebrating christmas and jj decides to risk ruining it all for a simple mistletoe kiss

𓇼 warning(s): fluff, kissing, suggestive/sexual comments and jokes, mentions of abuse/bad family, soft jj, suggestive (?) ending

𓇼 a/n: i blurred the girl’s face in the photo because idk who it is and i don’t want anyone getting confused😭 also its almost christmas and this story is kinda based on a joke i have with a friend!! ALSO this is my first post and im nervous so be nice pls😞

𓇼 wc: ≈ 2.5k

masterlist

it was the week before christmas, and now that the pogues offically had a house of their own, you were the most excited to decorate. sadly, it would have to be done after some begging.

"please, jay. i know you wanna." you sing out, disrupting the previously peaceful silence. the groans of all the pogues were heard. "y/n, why do you wan'to decorate so bad? it's not your first christmas." john b asked. he wasn't opposed to it, but neither was sarah, or pope, or kiara, or cleo. it really was just jj, and for the others, the fact that it took effort contributed.

"can i not enjoy something?" you sighed feigning disappointment, "fine, i'll just decorate all alone, risk my falling to my death, or breaking my back from the heav–"

"god damn, woman. c'mon, let's go get you a tree and some lights." jj abruptly cut you off. you turned back to him with wide eyes, from surprise, but also guilt. he didn't look happy to do it. sarah stifled a laugh from the interaction, watching as two of her best friends stared. "it's fine jj–we don't have to. no one else wants to."

he rolled his eyes, but stood from the couch. when you just stared at him, he sighed loudly. "let's go." he ordered. you let out a quiet squeal, hopping off the couch and to your room, where you grabbed a pair of sneakers to wear out.

the night was spent decorating a newly bought christmas tree, hanging lights throughout the house, and drinking hot cocoa.

after a long few hours, it was nearing midnight. the rest of the pogues were off to 'sleep', while jj stayed up with you. you were still trying to decorate, still having ideas–just no longer the energy to keep doing them.

"c'mere." jj mumbled from his spot on the couch. you look back at him over your shoulder, seeing his eyes closed. you took the opportunity to let your vision linger on his arm and shoulder muscles, sure he wouldn't notice. "y'know if you came over you could get a better look, maybe cop a feel." he smirked, tease evident in his tone.

"maybe i was just worried about your temperature, think of that?" you weakly defended against the accurate allegations. "mhm." his voice so weak and rough, but maintaining the playfulness. god, can you blame a girl?

you took a few small strides to the edge of the couch, lowering yourself into his warm embrace. the moment you were in his arms he held on tight. you tried not to focus on how close your bodies were, so close you could feel his breath against your shoulder. goosebumps spread across your bare legs, clad only in small shorts with a christmas pattern.

"i think if anyone's wearin' a concerning amount of clothes, it's you." he whispered, tapping his icy cold fingers against your legs. "i'm fine like this." you lied impulsively. there was no reason, no need, but you hated him to be right about every part of you.

"right, no yeah, of course baby." he played along, the nickname sliding off his tongue too easy. you could feel your heart beat a bit faster, but your breathing slowed against his. "yeah well, these are also the only christmas pajamas i have, so." he hummed in agreement. maybe just to assure you he heard, maybe just to assure himself he was awake.

"can i ask you something?" you paused, once again getting a hum in place for a response. "and you answer honestly." at the suddenly serious tone, he opened his eyes.

he gently pushed up onto his elbows, looking down at you. he stared, trying to memorize every feature he could while he could. he loved being this close to you, being able to see every detail possible. every pore, every color in your eyes–if they were open. all of you. it wasn't until you opened your eyes a few seconds later he realized he hadn't responded.

"yeah. 'course. complete and total honesty." he assured, strong eye contact held since your eyes opened. "yeah." you echoed in a mindless mutter.

you snapped back into your mind after a split moment, your eyes finding the ceiling suddenly very interesting. "um, so why–why didn't you want to decorate? for christmas."

you noticed his jaw clench and unclench before he opened his mouth to speak. it was shut just as quickly, and you could see him searching for the right words to say. "i jus' uh, didn't ever have any good memories with it, y'know? growin' up poor, with a shitty father, not really fun."

oh. "mh, yeah, 'm sorry. i guess i never thought of it like that." he sighed, looking down to his fingers tapping against your side. "no biggie." he forced a laugh, almost sounding genuine, but the sad undertones shown through.

"well, y'know what that means?" you couldn't hide the smile that threatened to show on your face, but part of you didn't want to. it kept the atmosphere not too heavy. "what's that?"

"y'gotta make good new memories." he smiled at your optimism. "thanks for today. it means a lot."

instead of a verbal response, he just settled down comfortably, wrapping his arms around you closer.

the following week was spent with a lot of talk of christmas. you were determined to make good memories of christmas for jj–making gingerbread houses, binging christmas movies, baking regular cookies, everything you could think of. so focused on that, you had yet to notice the simple decoration above the doorframe of the kitchen and living room that you didn't add.

it was christmas eve, another night where the pogues had all already went to bed. to your knowledge, all of them had.

earlier you had all decided against gifts, which was understandable. even after el dorado, you didn't have infinite money to spend. but, you had saved up just enough for christmas presents for everyone. nothing too extravagant or expensive, but small things with meaning to them.

each and every present had a story or inside meaning with the person it was for. jj's gift was a handmade bracelet you made for yourself a few months ago that jj would always point out. you tried to give it to him multiple times but he would always refuse.

"what'cha got there?" a loud whisper called out, causing your soul to practically leave your body. "jesus, jj. what are you doing awake?"

his body shook with a laugh against the doorframe he was leaning against. "nuh-uh, i asked a question first."

you sighed, "mm, jus' a few itty-bitty presents." you smiled like you had just been caught doing something bad, which to be fair, you were doing something you said you wouldn't. "mhm, i thought we weren't doing presents?"

"it's a . . . christmas miracle?" you retorted, sounding too much like a question. "okay, look. i got you all presents but they were before that and it was all cheap. promise."

his eyes softened at your guilty voice. clearing this throat, he walked over and sat beside you on the ground. your shoulders were touching, as were your knees, and it made you wonder if he felt as nauseous with nerves as you did.

"'s okay. i won't tell." he leaned closer, a playful fire in his eyes, his tone playful as always. "promise." he repeated back to you. a moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "so what'd you get me?"

you rolled your eyes and scoffed, feigning annoyance. "you can't wait 5 hours?" he shook his head 'no', a grin exposing himself.

"nope." he looked away from you, at the pile of presents on the floor. he shoved his shoulder on yours before standing up, looking at you expectantly, stretching his arms in a way that had you drooling.

he didn't say another word, but you felt like you were supposed to follow him. you did, but you were so focused on his shoulders, the soft lighting from the tree lights really highlighting each ridge of his muscles, that you hadn't noticed his sudden stop.

you ran right into his back, now in shock and very confused.

"huh." he spoke, looking at your eyes and up, back and forth, before continuing. "would you look at that." he acted amused, like it was a coincidence.

but under that facade, his palms were sweaty, his heart was pounding fast and hard–feeling like it was going to explode out of his chest. he couldn't help but have a million thoughts running through his head all at once, wondering how this would go. he hoped all of the stolen glances meant to you what they had always meant to him.

you looked up after he had done it twice, now realizing what he was talking about. you could feel your cheeks warm, your heartbeat in your neck, but all you could really focus on was jj.

the bright blue eyes you had learned to lose yourself in, the lips you longed for, him in his entirety. the jj you had fallen in love with. that same jj, wanted to kiss you.

you felt like you couldn't breath. what if this was just him making another flirty joke to you? but with the way he looked at you in this moment, there was no way, his eyes were flickering between your eyes and your lips. they got stuck on your lips repeatedly. he wanted to feel them on his, wanted to taste you, if even only for a moment.

"rules are rules, right?" he whispered, his hands slowly inching to grab your waist. his thumbs rubbed up and down on the now exposed skin, the flimsy cropped shirt doing nothing to cover the goosebumps spread on your entire body.

a weak, "yeah." was all you could manage to get out, all other sounds caught deep in your throat. "yeah?" he echoed, silently begging for confirmation that you wanted this and this was actually happening. he needed to know this wasn't another dream.

"mhm. rules, y'know. pope would kill us if we didn't follow the rules." at your small joke he let out a huffy-laugh, shaking his head, trying to wipe the smile off his own face.

the moment of comfortable laughter was replaced quickly, the air feeling thicker by the second. one of his hands moved from your waist to your face, the other traveling lower to your hip. he gave it a slight squeeze as he tilted your head up.

the anticipation was killing you, but in the best way imaginable. you pushed forward, your lips finally meeting his in a desperate, but delicate kiss. the type of kiss that showed how much he wanted to kiss you, how long he's been waiting, how much he's holding back. the delicacy surprised you, you thought it would be a more heated kiss, but jj was scared of spilling his all into it and ruining it completely.

somewhere in the back of his mind, he worried that this wasn't a good way to confess, but he remembered the reason thats how he did it. john b had somehow convinced him that if you didnt like him back, he could play it off as 'usual jj flirting', but now he wasn't sure he could.

you gripped the back of his shirt, pulling him closer. his hand migrated again to your lower back, using the placement to press your body further into his. the warmth of your cuddled bodies, and in his chest, made up for the winter weather and the lack of clothing on your bodies.

you could feel his tongue poke your bottom lip ever so slightly, almost like he wasn't ready. at that thought, you could feel your lips form a smile but you were unable stop it, breaking the kiss. "wow." you breathed out. "pretty good, right?"

you forced a nod out, ignoring the underlying tone of humor in his question. you couldn't help yourself from giggling, both at your reactions and at the excitement from finally being able to kiss him. "what're ya laughing at?"

"you." he raised an eyebrow, pointing to himself. "you just kissed me." you smiled.

"christmas miracle, amirite?" you smiled to yourself, pulling him closer to hide your face in his chest. "shut up." you mumbled into his shirt. "baby, i got you in my arms right now, it's gotta be some typa miracle."

"oh yeah? this can't be just because i want to?" you teased, pulling back. the shit-eating grin on your face morphed into something a lot softer when you noticed jj's body subconsciously rock closer to you. "nah, you wouldn't."

"no?" you asked, pressing your lips into his again, and again, and again. the kisses slowly became more and more natural as you did. "nope. no way."

"jj." he paused his movement to continue, looking you straight in the eye. "yeah?"

you hesitated for a second, and jj could tell what was coming next, so he began his long awaited confession.  "i like you. like, a lot. i mean, fuck, i love you. i can't, i just, don't know–"

"i love you too jay." you cut him off, knowing he was just going to spiral. "you're so cute, oh my god." you squeal after his dimples pop into his cheeks. he pushes your hand away from his cheeks, trying to avoid you noticing his flush.

"'m not cute. just, c'mere." he whispered to not break the comfortable bubble surrounding you two. he reached in for a hug, swooping his arms under yours, wrapping around your chest loosely. your arms raised to around his neck, inching your face closer again. he buried his head into the crevice of your neck, breathing you in.

"and why would i do that?" you giggled to yourself, enjoying the act of confusion and innocence. "i love you."

his suddenly serious confession caught you off guard, catching your breath in seconds. you kissed the top of his head, squeezing your arms tighter. from behind you, he could see the clock turn to midnight. "best christmas ever."

"yeah?" you asked, relief and happiness overflowing your senses. "mhm." he gently kissed you again, swiftly picking you up. out of reflex, you wrapped your legs around his torso. "jj, if you drop me i swear—"

"relax, baby. i won’t drop you." he giggled in your neck. he laid your down against the couch, letting himself lay comfortably between your legs. he rested his head on your shoulder, giving one more peck to your cheek. his fingers gripped onto your plush thighs, not planning on moving anywhere, just to hold. his lips began a descent down your neck, gentle enough to feel but not leave marks. "can it be christmas more often?"

"how ’bout we leave the mistletoe up, that way you can man up and kiss me everyday." he nodded. as he cuddled closer, his nose brushed your neck, small laughter erupting from it tickling you. "how ’bout, everyday, no mistletoe needed?" he whispered.

"works for me." you giggled out, his mouth kissing for any skin in sight. his affections sent shivers down your spine, the soft rub on your legs causing you to let out a soft sigh. he smirked at the noise escaping your lips, capturing yours and his again in a more heated and messy way this time.

"c'mon guys, not on the couch."

[sinful-sonnet]

Between Duty & Desire

Dbf!Joel Miller x babysitter f!Reader

word count: 5.7k

A continuation of this post

Warnings: smut, hair pulling, unprotected piv, I’m too lazy to add anymore lel

-

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you say softly, though your voice betrays how much you don’t want him to stop. Your words are barely a whisper, but he hears them

Joel leans closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. “You’re too tense, sweetheart,” he murmurs. His voice is deep, velvet smooth, laced with exhaustion from the day but undeniably tender. His thumbs work against the knots in your shoulders, and you feel your resolve crumbling with every stroke.

“Joel,” you start, his name falling off your tongue before you can stop yourself. His hands still for a moment, and you swear you feel him tense behind you. It’s a line crossed—one you both acknowledge in the stillness of the room.

But then his hands resume their motion, slower this time, his touch more deliberate. “There you go,” he murmurs, almost like he’s soothing himself as much as you. “That’s better.”

You tilt your head to glance up at him, your eyes meeting his. The way he looks at you—soft, yet intense—makes your heart race. “You don’t have to take care of me,” you manage, though the words feel hollow.

“Don’t I?” His voice is soft, but his tone holds weight. He leans down, just enough so that you catch the faint scent of sawdust and soap clinging to him. “You’ve been lookin’ after Sarah all night. Least I can do is look after you.”

The air between you feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and desires. You should step away, remind yourself why this is a terrible idea. But instead, you let his hands linger, his touch grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

“Joel…” you whisper again, his name trembling on your lips. This time, it’s not a warning—it’s a plea.

He leans down further, his voice low and full of something you can’t quite name. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his fingers grazing the curve of your jaw. “And I will.”

You don’t. Instead, you turn slightly toward him, your breath hitching as his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth. The world narrows to just the two of you—the quiet hum of the house fading into nothingness as his eyes search yours.

“Sweetheart…” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, but the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine.

And then, as if the pull is too strong to resist, his lips ghost over yours, hesitant but full of promise. It’s tentative, a question, waiting for an answer you’re too far gone to deny.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s standing still. Joel’s lips hover so close to yours that you can feel the heat radiating from him, but something in you snaps back to reality. You pull back abruptly, standing so quickly that the chair scrapes against the floor, breaking the quiet tension of the room.

“I—uh—should go,” you stammer, your heart hammering in your chest as you gather your books and shove them into your bag, your movements frantic and clumsy.

Joel straightens, his brow furrowing in confusion and something else—maybe regret. “Sweetheart—wait,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern.

You don’t look at him as you zip your bag shut, slinging it over your shoulder. “It’s late. I shouldn’t be keeping you up,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays the swirl of emotions inside you. “Sarah’s asleep, so… my job’s done.”

���Darlin’, you don’t have to rush out,” Joel says, his voice gentler now, but you can hear the tension beneath it. He steps closer, his hands twitching like he wants to reach out but knows better.

You finally glance at him, forcing a polite smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you say, your voice steady but distant, like you’re building a wall between you.

His jaw tenses at the formality, but he doesn’t stop you as you move toward the door. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching, but you don’t look back.

“Drive safe,” he murmurs as you step outside, his voice barely audible over the quiet click of the door closing behind you.

As you make your way to your car, the cool night air bites at your skin, grounding you. Your hands shake as you start the engine, and as you pull out of the driveway, you can’t help but glance at the house one last time. The lights in the kitchen window glow softly, and you wonder if he’s still standing there, watching you leave.

Your chest aches, and you grip the steering wheel tighter, willing yourself to push the memory of his touch, his voice, and the almost-kiss out of your mind. This is for the best, you tell yourself, over and over, like a mantra.

But as you drive away, you know deep down that this moment will haunt you—his presence lingering like a shadow you can’t shake.

•

The next time you’re at Joel’s house, you feel different. Stronger. The fresh haircut and perfectly polished nails you decided to get are just surface changes—they symbolize a shift inside you, a decision to stop running and face things head-on. If Joel wants something from you, he’s going to have to show it. You won’t back down this time.

Sarah is asleep, tucked into her bed after a fun evening of games and giggles. Now, you’re sitting at the dining table again, but this time, you aren’t hiding behind your books or keeping your head down. Your posture is relaxed, your chin lifted. You’re ready.

When the door finally opens, you hear the familiar sounds of Joel’s return—the keys hitting the dish, the heavy thud of his boots. You don’t flinch, don’t rush to look busy. Instead, you wait, your heartbeat steady but your anticipation building.

Joel walks into the room, and the second he sees you, his steps falter just slightly. His eyes flicker over you—your hair, your nails, the way you’re sitting so calmly, waiting for him. His gaze lingers for a beat too long, and you see something flicker in his expression, something he’s trying to hold back.

“Evenin’,” he says, his voice low and familiar, but there’s a roughness to it, like he’s caught off guard.

“Evening, Mr. Miller,” you reply smoothly, your tone steady but with just enough of a challenge to make his brow twitch. You know he hates when you call him that now, and it’s exactly why you said it.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as he sets his bag down on the counter. “Didn’t we talk about that?”

“We did,” you reply, leaning back slightly, your eyes meeting his with a calm confidence. “But you didn’t exactly say much about anything else, did you?”

That catches him off guard. He pauses, his hand still resting on the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. “What’re you tryin’ to say, sweetheart?”

“I’m saying,” you start, standing up slowly and stepping around the table, closing some of the distance between you, “that I’m done pretending nothing’s going on here.”

Joel’s jaw tightens, his eyes searching yours. “And what exactly do you think’s goin’ on?” he asks, his voice softer now, like he’s afraid of the answer but can’t stop himself from asking.

You take another step closer, tilting your head slightly as you look up at him. “That’s up to you to tell me, Joel,” you say, your voice steady but your heart racing. “You keep looking at me like this, saying things that make me think you want something. But I’m not gonna sit here wondering anymore. You want me? Prove it.”

The room feels electric, the air thick with the weight of your words. Joel stares at you, his expression unreadable, but you can see the battle playing out behind his eyes—the push and pull of what he wants versus what he thinks is right.

Finally, he takes a slow step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. “You sure you’re ready for that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble, filled with both caution and desire.

You don’t look away, don’t falter. “I’m standing right here, aren’t I?”

For a moment, it’s like the whole world has stopped, the only sound in the room the quiet hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Then, Joel reaches out, his hand brushing lightly against yours, his touch tentative but charged with meaning.

“Alright,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. “You want me to prove it? I will.”

“I’m waiting” you bat your eyelashes innocently at him

Joel's lips twitch into a faint smirk at your words, but there's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes— hesitation, caution, desire all tangled together.

He takes another slow step toward you, closing the distance until you can feel the heat radiating off him.

His gaze drops to your lips, lingering for a moment before locking onto your eyes.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he mutters, his voice low and rough, like he's struggling to hold himself back.

You tilt your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you bat your eyelashes again. "Maybe," you say softly. "But you're still stalling, Joel."

His jaw tightens, and you can see the internal battle raging within him. He's not a man who rushes into things, but there's something about the way you're looking at him-challenging him, daring him-that's unraveling every ounce of his restraint.

"I don't think you know what you're askin' for, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. "This ain't somethin' we can just take back."

You take a small step forward, your confidence unwavering. "Maybe I don't want to take it back."

That's all it takes. In an instant, Joel's resolve shatters. He closes the remaining space between you, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. His thumb brushes against your cheek, and his eyes search yours one last time, as if giving you a chance to stop him.

But you don't. You're done hesitating, done running.

"I'm waiting," you whisper again, your voice steady but laced with anticipation.

And then his lips are on yours, firm yet gentle, like he's been holding back for far too long.

The kiss is slow at first, tentative, as if he's testing the waters.

But when you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest, he deepens it, his other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer.

It's overwhelming-the way he smells, the way he tastes, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.

You've imagined this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for how real, how intense it feels.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you're both breathless.

His thumb strokes your cheek again as he whispers, "There. That enough proof for you?"

You let out a shaky breath, a smile tugging at your lips. "It's a start."

Joel chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your chest. "Careful, darlin'" he murmurs, his voice warm and teasing.

"You might just get more than you bargained for."

You meet his gaze, your confidence never wavering. "I'm counting on it."

-

You don't wait for him to make the next move. Instead, you close the small gap between you, pressing your lips against his once more. This time, there's no hesitation. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as you slide your tongue along the seam of his lips, teasing him, challenging him to let you in.

Joel groans softly, a low, rough sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He opens his mouth to you, his tongue meeting yours in a slow, deliberate dance that makes your head spin. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you even closer, like he can't stand the thought of any space between you.

The kiss deepens, becomes hungrier, more urgent. His lips are warm and soft, his stubble scratching against your skin in a way that's intoxicating. You feel his hand slide up your back, fingers brushing lightly against the nape of your neck as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss even further.

You pour every ounce of your frustration, your desire, your longing into the kiss, and he matches you beat for beat. It's raw and electric, a fire that's been simmering for far too long finally igniting.

When you finally pull back for air, your chest heaves as you struggle to catch your breath. Joel's forehead rests against yours, his dark eyes searching yours with a mix of desire and something softer, something deeper.

"Sweetheart..." he murmurs, his voice hoarse and filled with something you can't quite name. "You really are somethin' else."

You smirk, your confidence burning bright.

"Told you I was waiting."

He chuckles, low and warm, his thumb brushing along your jaw. "You sure you're ready for everything that comes with this?" he asks, his tone serious despite the teasing edge.

You nod, your resolve unshaken. "I'm not backing down, Joel. Not anymore."

His grip on you tightens slightly, his gaze holding yours. "Alright," he murmurs, his voice steady.

"Then let's see where this goes."

-

Your heart pounds as you look up at Joel, his grip firm but not controlling, his dark eyes studying you. Something inside you flares—a mix of confidence and curiosity. You want to see if you can take charge, see how far he's willing to let you lead.

You press your hands against his chest, pushing him gently but firmly back until the edge of the table catches him. He raises an eyebrow at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips, but he doesn't resist.

"What are you doin', sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and rough, laced with curiosity and amusement.

You tilt your head, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you climb onto his lap, straddling him, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Showing you I'm not afraid,"

you say, your voice bold, unwavering.

"I'm not just gonna let you call the shots, Joel."

His smirk widens, his hands instinctively settling on your hips, fingers pressing into the fabric of your jeans. "That right?" he drawls, his tone teasing but edged with something darker, something thrilling. "You think you're in charge now?"

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "For now."

Without waiting for a reply, you kiss him again, this time with more force, more determination. Your tongue slides into his mouth, tangling with his, and you hear a low growl rumble from his chest. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, but he lets you set the pace, lets you take the lead.

You trail your hands up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips, and his breath hitches when your nails scrape lightly against his skin through his shirt. You kiss him harder, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip before soothing the spot with your tongue. He lets out a soft curse, his grip on you momentarily tightening before he reins himself in.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might flip the script on you, take back control. But he doesn't-at least not yet. Instead, he lets you continue, his hands roaming your sides, his lips parting for you every time you claim him.

You feel powerful, exhilarated, but there's an undercurrent of tension, a silent promise in the way his fingers grip your waist. Joel might be letting you take charge for now, but you know it's only because he's allowing it. There's a storm brewing in his restraint, and you can't help but wonder what will happen when it finally breaks.

Joel pulls back from the kiss, his breathing uneven, his forehead resting against yours. His grip on your waist tightens just enough for you to feel the quiet power in his hands—a reminder that while he's let you take the lead, he hasn't truly surrendered.

His eyes lock onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch. There's heat there, yes, but also something deeper, something unspoken that makes the air between you crackle.

"You're somethin' else," he mutters, his voice low and rough, the Texan drawl thick enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Pushin' me like this... You sure you know what you're gettin' into?"

His words hang in the air, a challenge and a warning all wrapped in one. But you're not backing down. Not now. You lift your chin slightly, your eyes never leaving his as you tighten your grip on his shoulders.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," you say, your voice steady but laced with a teasing edge. "The question is-do you?"

Joel chuckles softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "You've got a sharp tongue, darlin'" he says, his hands sliding up your sides, slow and deliberate. "But let me tell you somethin!"

His grip shifts, his hands settling firmly on your hips as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice drops even lower, a whisper that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

"There's only so much of this I'm gonna let you get away with," he murmurs, the warning clear in his tone. "You keep pushin, and I'm gonna remind you who's really in charge here."

The words send a thrill through you, but you're not ready to give in yet. You lean back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips curling into a defiant smile.

"Maybe I want you to remind me," you say, your voice soft but daring.

Joel's eyes darken further, his grip on you tightening just enough to make your heart race. For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable, as though he's deciding whether to rise to your challenge or let you keep playing this dangerous game.

Then, with a suddenness that leaves you breathless, he flips the dynamic entirely. His hands grip your waist firmly, lifting you effortlessly off his lap and setting you on the edge of the table. He steps between your knees, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in.

"You've had your fun, sweetheart," he drawls, his voice low and commanding, his eyes burning into yours. "Now it's my turn."

Joel's lips trail down your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine as he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

Each touch is deliberate, possessive, as though he's staking his claim. You tilt your head back slightly, letting him have his way, the sensation overwhelming and intoxicating.

His hands slide up your thighs, the roughness of his palms a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. His grip tightens as he pulls you closer to the edge of the table, his strength undeniable as he presses his body flush against yours. The solid heat of him grounds you, even as your heart races.

"You're mine, princess," he growls against your neck, his voice low and rough, sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. "And don't you ever forget it."

His words make your breath hitch, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something deep within you. You want to challenge him, to push back against his dominance, but the way he holds you, the way he speaks to you, makes it impossible to do anything but surrender—for now.

Your hands slide up his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer. "Is that so?" you whisper, your voice daring but breathless. "Then maybe you should show me, Joel."

His eyes darken at your words, his gaze locking onto yours with a fire that takes your breath away. "You keep askin' for it," he mutters, his voice low and dangerous, "and I'm gonna give it to you. But you better be ready for what comes next, sweetheart."

The challenge in his words makes your pulse quicken, but you nod, your confidence unwavering. "I can handle it."

Joel smirks, a wicked, knowing grin that sends heat flooding through you. "We'll see about that." His lips crash against yours again, his kiss searing and unapologetic, leaving no room for doubt about who's in charge now.

Joel's kiss is overwhelming, consuming, leaving no space for thought or hesitation. His lips are firm against yours, his tongue demanding as it tangles with yours. He's not holding back anymore-every touch, every movement speaks of a man who's been pushed past his limits.

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he presses you more firmly against the edge of the table, his body flush against yours. The way he moves, the way he holds you, leaves no doubt in your mind—he's in control now, and he's making sure you know it.

"You've got no idea what you've started, darlin'" he growls against your lips, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and desire. "But you're gonna find out real quick."

You gasp as his lips return to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucks just hard enough to leave a mark. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips. His hands slide up further, his thumbs brushing against your hips, teasing you, testing your resolve.

"Still think you're the one in charge?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

You tilt your head slightly, your breath hitching as you try to regain some of your earlier confidence. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up."

Joel chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates against your neck. "Keep up?" he repeats, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and piercing.

"Sweetheart, you've got no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

His words are a promise, a warning, and a challenge all at once. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

"You think you can push me like this and come out on top?" His hand slides up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the intensity in his eyes. "Let me make somethin' real clear."

His lips crash against yours again, this time even more commanding, more consuming. His kiss leaves you breathless, his hands gripping you like he's afraid to let go. It's a battle of wills, but one you're losing-and you're not even sure you mind.

Joel's kiss grows fiercer, more demanding, as he takes full control. His tongue delves deeper, exploring your mouth with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His teeth catch your bottom lip, nipping just enough to send a jolt through you before soothing it with his tongue, as if he's both punishing and rewarding you for pushing him this far.

His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you even closer, until there's no space left between you. His body pins you against the table, his weight pressing you down as his hips grind against yours. The friction is electrifying, sending heat surging through you, and you can't help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.

"You feel that?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and low, dripping with desire. "That's what you do to me, sweetheart. You've been teasin' me, pushin' me-and now, you're gonna take all of it."

The evidence of his arousal presses firmly against you, a stark, undeniable reminder of just how much power he has in this moment. But it's not just physical-it's the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way he speaks to you. Every word, every movement is calculated, deliberate, meant to show you exactly who's in control.

Your breath catches as his lips trail down your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin before he sucks hard enough to leave another mark. His hands roam your body, possessive and firm, as if he's memorizing every curve, every reaction. He's relentless, and you can feel yourself surrendering completely to him, letting him take whatever he wants.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Joel growls, his voice a mixture of amusement and raw desire. "You wanted me to take control, to show you who you belong to."

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can do is nod, your hands gripping his shoulders as you cling to him, completely at his mercy.

Joel then lifts you up and carries you to the living room. He lays you down on the couch, positioning you so that you're bent over the arm. He stands behind you, his hands quickly unbuttoning and removing your pants.

He lets out a low growl as he takes in the sight of you, completely at his mercy and vulnerable to his touch.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “Bent over like a good girl for me.”

He groans as you push your ass against him, the feeling of your body against his making him even harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he leans over you.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Joel grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls “tell me how much you need me darlin’”

You gasp as he grabs your hair, the sting of his grip sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“I need you so much,” you whimper, your voice shaky with desire. “Please, Joel.. I need you to touch me.”

He circles his fingers around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you moan. He knows your body well, knows exactly how to touch you to make you squirm and beg for more.

He continues to tease you, his lips moving up to your ear as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

“That feel good, princess?”

You nod frantically, your body arching against his touch as you let out a needy whimper.

“Y-yes, Joel.. please.. more..”

He smirks against your skin, pleased with your response. He loves the way you beg for him, the way you give yourself over to him completely.

He continues to circle your clit with his fingers, his touch growing firmer as he increases the pressure.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. “Begging for me like that..”

He leans down, his lips moving to your ear once again as he whispers in a low, commanding tone.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Tell me how much you need me to make you feel good.”

You shiver at the command in his voice, your body trembling with need.

“I need you so badly,” you whimper, your voice shaking with desire. “Please, Joel.. I need you to make me cum. I need you to make me feel good..”

You whimper in response, unable to do anything but let out a series of desperate, needy sounds as his fingers continue to work their magic against your clit. You're completely at his mercy, your body trembling and your mind filled with a haze of pleasure.

He knows he has you exactly where he wants you, completely surrendered to his touch and his control.

He moves quickly, unable to wait any longer to be inside you. He grabs your hips, positioning himself at your entrance as he looks down at you with a mixture of hunger and desire.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” he growls, his voice rough with need.

Joel pushes into you in one swift, powerful thrust, filling you completely in one movement. He lets out a low groan, his fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to control himself.

“God, you feel so good..” he murmurs, his voice ragged with pleasure. “So tight and perfect around me..”

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, savoring the feeling of being inside you. But as his control starts to slip, his pace quickens, each thrust becoming more and more forceful.

“You like this don’t you darlin,” he growls, his voice possessive and dominant.

You nod desperately, your mind consumed by the pleasure he’s giving you. Every thrust sends waves of ecstasy through your body, making it hard to think or speak.

“Yes.. I love it,” you manage to gasp out, your voice hoarse with pleasure. “I love feeling you inside me..”

He grins, pleased by your response. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, can feel you clenching around him as he drives deeper and deeper into you.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, his voice filled with possessive satisfaction. “Let me hear you say it.. tell me how much you need me to claim you..”

You just let out a loud moan as you come undone.

He groans as you come around him, your body clenching tightly around his cock. He continues to thrust into you, struggling to hold back his own release as he looks over at Sarah's door, making sure it's still shut.

He doesn't want her to see or hear any of this.. he doesn't want anyone to know how he's claiming you, how he's making you his in every way possible..

He grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts harder and faster, chasing his own release. He's close, so close to the edge, and the sight of you coming undone beneath him only pushes him further.

“Fuck.. I’m gonna fill you up,” he growls, his voice strained

His grip on your hips tightens as he continues to pound into you, his pace becoming erratic and desperate. He can feel his orgasm building, the pleasure building up until it’s almost unbearable.

“Take it.. take all of it,” he grunts, his voice hoarse with need. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, princess..”

His hips stutter and his grip on you tightens even more as he reaches his peak. With one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and cums with a guttural groan, his release spilling into you in hot, pulsing waves.

He leans over you, his body trembling as he rides out his orgasm, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath.

Joel leans over you, his strong arms braced on either side of you, his body trembling as he lets the intensity of the moment consume him. His forehead presses against the back of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he tries to steady himself, both of you still caught in the aftershocks of everything you’ve shared.

For a long moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of his labored breathing and the faint hum of the world outside. His face remains buried against your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin in a way that feels both grounding and intimate. You can feel the weight of him, his warmth pressing into you, a tangible reminder of the connection you’ve just forged.

“Sweetheart…” he finally murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with both exhaustion and something softer. His hand slides down to rest on your hip, his touch gentler now, almost reverent.

You turn your head slightly, your breathing still uneven as you meet his gaze over your shoulder. His dark eyes are softer now, the fiery intensity replaced with a quiet tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I told you,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your body still tingling from the overwhelming sensations. “I think I might have an idea now,” you reply, your voice teasing but filled with warmth.

Joel chuckles softly, the sound low and rumbling as he shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you upright against his chest. He holds you there, his grip firm but comforting, as if he’s afraid to let go.

-

Joel steps back, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment before he finally lets go, his touch warm and steady despite the nervous laugh that escapes him. He rubs the back of his neck, his expression softening as he looks at you, a mixture of concern and tenderness in his eyes.

“I got a little carried away there,” he admits, his voice low, the faintest hint of guilt creeping in. “Are you alright?”

You turn to face him, brushing your hair back from your face as you meet his gaze. There’s no hesitation in your voice when you reply. “Yes, I’m fine.” You offer him a small, reassuring smile before adding, “But… would it be okay if I took, like… a bath? Maybe?”

Joel blinks, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he lets out a soft chuckle. “’Course it’s okay,” he says, his voice warm and genuine. “You don’t even have to ask, sweetheart. Go on—I’ll make sure Sarah stays asleep.”

You nod, your smile growing as the tension in the room begins to ease. “Thanks, Joel.”

He gestures toward the hallway. “Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll grab you some towels.”

As you head toward the bathroom, you hear him rummaging through a closet, his quiet movements a comforting presence even as you step away. When you reach the door, he appears a moment later with a neatly folded towel in one hand and a soft smile on his face.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you. His fingers brush against yours briefly, and for a moment, his gaze lingers, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you’re really okay.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice steady but laced with sincerity.

Joel nods, stepping back to give you space. “Take your time,” he says. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You close the door behind you, the warmth of his presence still lingering as you turn on the faucet and let the sound of running water fill the room. As the tub begins to fill, you take a deep breath, letting the events of the evening wash over you. Whatever happens next, you know one thing for sure: Joel cares, and that thought alone makes you feel a little more grounded.

A/N: \(//∇//)\ i seriously can’t get enough of dbf!joel…send me to horny jail now

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

something with rafe comforting reader after she calls him and he picks her up from work because she bad cramps

CRAMPS

Word Count: 9.0k

Pairing(s): Reader x Rafe

Warnings: Cramps, Anxiety, Blood

Summary: Overwhelmed by painful cramps, you call Rafe for help

The cramps were unbearable, hitting like relentless waves. You tried to push through, focusing on your work, but the pain sharpened, and dizziness set in. Concentration was impossible.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. Unsteady on your feet, you made your way to the bathroom. Each step was an effort, and the dull ache turned into something far worse. Inside, you locked the door and stumbled to the mirror. Your hands shook as you fumbled with your jeans, but the sight froze you in place. Blood—more than you’d ever expected—had soaked through your underwear, staining your clothes.

Panic surged. You hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t prepared for it to be so bad. What was happening? What were you supposed to do now? Tears welled as you stood there, helpless. Your breaths grew shallow, and your heart raced with fear. A knock on the door jolted you.

“Hey, you okay in there?” a co-worker asked, concern evident in her voice.

You wiped at your face and replied, “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”

Her footsteps receded, and you exhaled shakily, sinking to the floor. Trapped in the moment, unsure of what to do, you fumbled for your phone and typed a desperate text:

“Can I call you?”

The seconds stretched endlessly as you stared at the screen. No reply. Unable to wait, you dialed Rafe. The phone rang and rang, unanswered. Frantic, you left a voicemail, your voice breaking: “Babe, I need your help. Please… I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do.”

Hanging up, tears spilled freely as pain and fear consumed you. Each movement made the cramps worse. The more you tried to clean up, the bigger the mess became. Blood smeared everywhere, and you felt utterly defeated. When your phone finally buzzed, Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

-

“Rafe?” you answered, voice trembling.

“Hey, babe. I just got your voicemail. What’s wrong?” His concern was immediate.

“I’ve got cramps, and there’s… so much blood,” you stammered, choking on your sobs. “I feel sick, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m on my way. Just stay where you are,” he said firmly. “Don’t move too much, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered. Relief mixed with anxiety as you waited for him. The pain continued, each wave worse than the last. Finally, there was a soft knock on the door.

“It’s me, babe,” Rafe called gently.

You unlocked the door, letting him in. His eyes took in the mess—the stained clothes, the bloody towels—and then he saw you. Pale and tear-streaked, you looked so small. Without hesitation, he locked the door and pulled you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, sobbing into his chest.

“Shh, don’t apologize,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

After a moment, he guided you to sit on the toilet lid and opened the bag he’d brought. From it, he pulled out fresh clothes and a damp washer. With tender care, he began cleaning you up, his movements calm and methodical. Despite the mess, he never flinched, his focus entirely on comforting you.

Once he helped you into clean clothes, he packed the soiled ones in a plastic bag. “I spoke to your boss,” he said softly. “You’re done for the day. I’m taking you home.”

Tears welled up again, this time from relief. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

At home, Rafe guided you to the lounge, covering you with a blanket and placing a hot water bottle on your stomach. “Just relax, babe. I’m going to make you some soup.”

You nodded, feeling the first bit of comfort as the warmth began easing the pain. When he returned with a bowl of lentil soup and a glass of water, he sat beside you, stroking your hair as you ate.

“I love you,” you said softly, looking at him with teary eyes.

Rafe leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

@ilovethekookprince @anonymouscameron @rafecameronsgirfriend

[shitsndgiggs]

Kenan practicing kissing with his best friend 👀👀👀👀👀👀

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan asking you to help him practice his kissing

Kenan Yildiz x best friend! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting Kenan’s room in a warm, golden glow.

We’d been sitting on the floor for a while, the remnants of our popcorn forgotten between us as the credits of a rom-com rolled on the screen.

Kenan hadn’t said much, which was weird for him, and I couldn’t help but poke at him about it.

“Alright,” I said, nudging his leg with my foot. “Spit it out. You’ve been quiet for like, twenty minutes. That’s a record for you.”

He let out a sigh, ruffling his already messy hair. “Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Depends on how funny it is,” I teased, grinning.

Kenan glared at me, but there was a nervous edge to it. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Fine, I promise. No laughing. Scout’s honor.”

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “I think I’m bad at kissing.”

I blinked. Out of all the things he could’ve said, I hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“I don’t know!” he said, throwing his hands up. “I’ve only kissed a couple of girls, and I feel like… I don’t know, like maybe I suck at it.”

I stared at him for a moment, unsure if he was being serious. But he looked genuinely concerned, his brows drawn together and his mouth pulled into a worried frown.

“Kenan,” I said, suppressing a laugh, “you’re overthinking this. Kissing isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“Yeah, but what if I’m doing it wrong?” he pressed.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you’re fine.”

He was quiet for a second, then he looked at me with a mix of desperation and hope. “Help me, then.”

“What?”

“Help me practice,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You want me to… practice kissing you?”

“You’re my best friend!” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Who else am I supposed to ask?”

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, but his pleading look made me pause.

“Please?” he said, his voice softer now, his eyes wide and sincere.

I groaned, already regretting my next words. “Fine. But just once. And if you tell anyone, I will deny it forever.”

Kenan’s face lit up, and he scooted closer to me. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, trying to ignore the way my heart was pounding.

We sat there awkwardly for a moment, facing each other. “So… how do we do this?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“You lean in, I lean in, and… we kiss,” I said, trying to sound casual.

He nodded, and we both leaned in. Our noses bumped, and we burst out laughing, the tension breaking instantly.

“Okay, round two,” he said, still grinning.

This time, when our lips met, it was soft and tentative, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt… nice. Really nice.

We pulled back after a few seconds, and I cleared my throat, trying to keep things light. “See? You’re fine. No need to worry.”

Kenan tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t know. I think I need more practice.”

“Kenan—”

“Just one more time,” he said quickly. “For, uh, science.”

I rolled my eyes but leaned in again. This kiss lasted a little longer, and when we pulled away, my heart was racing.

“That should be enough,” I said, my voice shaky.

He grinned. “I don’t know. I think we should try it longer. You know, just to make sure.”

“Kenan,” I said, exasperated, but he was already leaning in again.

This time, the kiss wasn’t soft or tentative. It was deeper, slower, and my mind went completely blank as his hands moved to cradle my face.

I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but when we finally pulled back, I was breathless.

I looked at him, narrowing my eyes. “Was this your way of having an excuse to keep kissing me?”

“Maybe,” he said, smirking, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re a great kisser,” he said, leaning in again.

I didn’t stop him this time.

[dixonsbrat]

── .✦  𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; daryl gets injured on a run and can’t fathom why you’re so worried about him

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; ‘unspoken thing’ type of relationship, mentions of injuries, blood, angst if you squint, daryl being stubborn

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this man is so stubborn and unaware of how loved he is it makes me so freaking mad sometimes

“‘m fine,” daryl states the second he walks out of the infirmary and sees you, knowing that you would’ve been worrying about him even if all he had sustained was a mere scratch. a part of him looked relieved to see you, but he also knew you were going to be pissed at him for being so reckless.

“no, you’re not,” you shake your head as you meet his side. “denise said you were close to hitting an artery.”

you had been pacing back and forth since the moment he and aaron had returned from their recruitment trip and you saw the blood dripping down his arm. in this world, even the smallest of injuries could turn into something catastrophic without the right medicine and treatment. so seeing him the way that he was had embedded a fear in you, that you didn’t know you had, deep inside your chest.

“denise is exaggeratin’,” he responds, his voice gruff and hoarse to cover up the way his heart fluttered as he saw the concern in your eyes. he hated seeing you like this, knowing that he was the cause of it. he knew you worried about him every time he left alexandria but he didn’t want it to consume you. “was just a scratch.”

“really?” your shoulders slump with disbelief of how nonchalant he was being about it.

“would ya relax?” he says after a few moments of silence, his voice stern yet soft. he places a gentle hand against your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone, “‘m alright. you’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’.”

you place your hand over his, holding his gaze as you stare up into his blue eyes, "it's not nothing, daryl. it could've been your life on the line."

his heart rate increases rapidly as he stared into your eyes, unable to look away as you gazed up at him. your words and touch causing him to soften as part of the tough persona he constantly displayed in front of others melts away.

“‘m’not dead. ‘s just a scratch. ‘s nothin’ i haven’t dealt with before.” he shakes his head, trying his best to reassure you and resolve the worry that was now causing a crease on your forehead.

“how can you be so calm about this? you could’ve seriously gotten hurt or worse!” you retort, your head lulling back out of frustration. you hated how careless he could be when it came to his own wellbeing.

daryl’s brows furrow at your words now, his fingers gently gripping your chin to force your head back down, so your eyes met his once more. he lets out an exasperated breath through his nostrils, his stare hardening.

“how many times do i have to say ‘m fine?” he replies, his voice sharp. “ya don’t need ta worry.”

you couldn't believe the audacity of him telling you that you didn't need to worry. as if you could just switch it off with a snap of your fingers. you could never understand why he was so careless about his own life, how he could constantly throw himself in danger for the sake of very little.

you turn away from him for a second, your fingers pinching at the bridge of your nose as you let out a deep exhale. you didn't know what to do to make him see just how important he and his life were to you.

he watches you with a slight frown, his irritation slowly melting into regret. he knew you well enough to know that you were frustrated, he could see it in the way your shoulders and jaw were tensing as you turned away from him.

“why can’t you see how valuable and loved you are? why do i have to break myself down just to prove to you how much i care?” you turn back to him, tears now pricking your eyes. “every time you leave alexandria i worry that i’ll never see you again, and the thought of something happening to you while you’re out there-” you stop, your emotions getting the better of you.

he sees the tears welling in your eyes and the look on your face and his heart drops. it was one that he had never witnessed before. you looked so vulnerable, your eyes glistening with unshed tears and your shoulders sloping with defeat. it wasn’t often that you had cried in front of him, but the look of disappointment mixed with hurt and frustration as you struggled to find the words was killing him.

he slowly steps closer to you, his uninjured hand coming to rest on your hip as his eyes soften. he was frustrated at first, unable to understand why his actions had such an impact on you, but seeing you like this made him realise how much he truly cared for you and how much you cared for him.

he swallows, his throat suddenly feeling thick and dry, trying to steady himself before he speaks, “‘m sorry m’puttin this on you. i know ya worry, i just…” he pauses for a moment as he searches for what to say, “…didn’t think it was worth worryin’ about.”

you involuntarily move closer, as if your body knew what you needed before you did, and you rest your forehead against his chin. you knew you were being over dramatic and that daryl could take care of himself, but the images of him being hurt had burnt so deeply into your head.

“just need you safe,” you say, closing your eyes against him.

he closes his eyes with you, feeling you relax against him as you spoke. he brings his hand up from your hip to the small of your back, gently rubbing his thumb against you through the thin material of your shirt, silently reassuring you.

“m’not goin’ anywhere,” he says, his other hand coming up to gently run through your hair. he slowly wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest to feel the steady, yet fast, thump of his heartbeat. “‘m always gonna come back.”

[orangeblossomsintheair]

DAD SIMON THOUGHTS!!

im also in this fandom now ;>

simon’s fingers tapped restlessly against the edge of the table as you placed your mug down and sat across from him. he avoided your gaze, staring at a spot on the wall instead. his silence was deafening, stretching long enough to make you sigh.

“spit it out, simon,” you said gently, leaning forward.

“there’s nothing to spit out,” he muttered, but his clenched jaw betrayed him.

you tilted your head, watching him with that knowing look that always unnerved him. “you’re acting like the world’s about to end.”

he huffed a humorless laugh. “maybe it is.”

your brows knitted together, but there was no anger, only a concern that made his skin itch. “simon, talk to me.”

he nearly laughed at your face. you made it sound so easy.

how could he put that fear into words, knowing it might hurt you, knowing it might break something in you too?

“i can’t,” he finally admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “it’s not… i don’t want to say something I can’t take back.”

your lips pressed into a thin line as you reached out, taking his hand in yours. “you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared,” he shot back too quickly, tone defensive.

“you’re terrified,” you corrected softly, squeezing his hand. “and that’s okay.”

you tilted your head, trying to catch his eyes. “now, seriously. talk to me.”

he shook his head. “what if I’m not…good enough? what if I fail you? or our baby?”

your hand tightened around his, and you moved closer, your eyes unwavering. “you won’t. because you care too much to fail. and because you don’t have to do this alone.”

“i don’t know how to be…” he trailed off, his voice cracking.

“a father?” you finished for him, your voice warm.

he nodded, staring at your joined hands.

“you’re already doing it,” you said softly. “you’re here, si. that’s what matters most. the rest, we figure out as we go.”

simon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he hadn’t said anything for a while now, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. you sat beside him, watching the way his shoulders tensed, his body a coiled spring ready to snap.

“i know you don’t believe me,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “no matter what I say, you’ve got it in your head that you’re not good enough.”

he didn’t respond, but his hands flexed slightly, like he was gripping onto some invisible weight he just couldn’t drop.

you exhaled, leaning closer, voice steady. “simon, I didn’t marry you because I thought you were perfect.”

he looked away, jaw tightening, but you pressed on.

“do you really think i didn’t know what i was getting into? i knew. and i still love you. i’ll always love you.” your hand rested on his, grounding him. “not because you’re perfect but because you show up. because you try, even when you’re scared. because you care, even when it hurts.”

his breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

then he looked at you, his voice cracking as he whispered, “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“you don’t get to decide that,” you replied, smile soft but firm.

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite know how. “bit bossy, aren’t you?”

you smirked, tilting your head playfully. “someone has to be, with you moping around like this.”

“moping?” his eyebrows lifted, the faintest hint of amusement creeping into his tone. “i don’t mope.”

“oh, you do,” you shot back, leaning back slightly but keeping your hands on his. “it’s very broody, very dramatic. could give shakespeare a run for his money.”

a dry laugh rumbled in his chest, and the sound warmed you more than you cared to admit. “didn’t know i married a comedian.”

“well, i didn’t marry a ray of sunshine, so i guess we’re even.” you grinned, poking him lightly in the ribs.

he caught your hand before you could do it again, holding it tightly but not enough to hurt. “careful,” he said, his voice low but teasing. “i’m dangerous, remember?”

your laughter bubbled out before you could stop it. “oh, please. you’re about as dangerous as a kitten when you’re sulking.”

he huffed, shaking his head, but the ghost of a smile finally broke through. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“and yet, here we are,” you cooed, leaning closer until your forehead was almost touching his. “you stuck with me, riley. for better or worse.”

he let out a long breath, finally letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “guess i can live with that,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze warm in a way that made your heart ache.

“you better,” you quipped, grin returning full force. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

his lips finally curved into a small, genuine smile. “good,” he murmured, pulling you closer into his arms. “i’d be lost without you.”

[gilbertscurls]

calling after me — matt sturniolo

summary: where you hang up on matt without saying "i love you"

The house was quiet, with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of a breeze through the open windows breaking the stillness. You had spent the afternoon catching up on some reading, enjoying the peaceful solitude. Matt was out for the day, running errands and meeting with friends, and you had talked briefly before he left.

You were feeling a bit playful and decided on a light-hearted prank to pass the time. You picked up your phone, knowing that Matt would likely call you later in the day just to check in. Your plan was to hang up on him without saying “I love you” back, just to see how he would react. It was a harmless trick, meant only to spark a little fun.

A few hours later, your phone rang, and you saw Matt’s name flashing on the screen. You took a deep breath, your excitement building, and answered with your usual cheerful tone.

“Hey, Matt! How’s it going?”

Matt’s voice came through the phone, sounding upbeat. “Hey, baby! Everything’s good. Just finishing up a few things. How about you? Missed you today.”

You smiled, enjoying the sound of his voice. “I’ve been good. Just relaxing and getting some stuff done around here.”

You chatted for a few minutes, exchanging stories about your day. You could hear the warmth and affection in Matt’s voice, and you felt a pang of guilt for what you were about to do. But you pushed it aside, determined to go through with your prank.

“Well, I should probably get going,” Matt said. “I’ll be heading home soon. Love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You hesitated for a moment, then decided to go through with the prank. “Okay, see you soon,” you said, and before Matt could say anything else, you abruptly hung up the call.

The sudden silence in the room felt almost too loud. You waited, your playful grin slowly fading as you wondered how Matt would react. A few moments later, your phone buzzed with a text message from Matt.

“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Your heart sank as you read his message. You hadn’t expected him to be so concerned. You quickly typed a response.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I was just playing a little prank. I love you!”

Almost immediately, Matt called you back, and this time, you answered with a sense of urgency.

“Hey, Matt. I’m really sorry about that. It was just a silly prank.”

Matt’s voice was a mix of relief and slight confusion. “You scared me for a second there. I thought something might be wrong. You didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, and I was worried.”

Your heart ached at his concern. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Matt sighed, his voice softening. “You know, I’m glad you’re okay, but you don’t need to pull pranks like that. It’s just, when you didn’t say ‘I love you,’ it felt like something was off.”

You felt a wave of guilt and affection. “I understand. I really do love you, Matt. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

Matt’s tone turned tender. “I love you too, baby. Just… Maybe next time, let’s skip the pranks. They’re not as fun when they make you worry.”

Your eyes softened, and she smiled. “Agreed. I’ll make it up to you when you get home. Promise.”

Matt chuckled softly. “Looking forward to it. See you soon.”

And when he returned home, you spent the evening making up for the prank with extra hugs, laughter, and heartfelt moments.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim

[passionwillow]

I’m Not Going Anywhere

Thank you @dominiquelucalover for this idea! I love me some angsty fluff and smut. ♥️

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut. 18+. Age gap.

- The only thing Hicks had told you was someone was injured on the job. Not who, not how bad, just that it wasn’t good.

- You’d stopped into HQ to drop off some lunch for Deacon, but you weren’t surprised that the team was out. It happened more often than not.

- You ran into Hicks on the way to the break room, and he’d told you then about the incident. He wouldn’t tell you who, what happened, just to stay put and wait.

- You sat on the bench by the boxing ring, hands trembling and knees bouncing at you waited. The panic was a vice around your chest, the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

- The thought of Deacon out there hurt, never getting to see him or touch him or kiss him again.. It was too much to even think about.

- You weren’t sure how long you were there, chewing at your nails and biting at your lip before 20-David came down the hallway.

- You stood up so fast your head spun, your eyes searching them. There was Hondo, Street and Luca, Chris-.. Deacon.

- His eyes found yours and he wasted no time running to you. Your face crumbled as your hands reached for him, and you threw yourself at him as a sob broke through you.

- His arms held around your waist, hugging you tight and speaking soft and soothing, a hand cupping the back of your head.

- “It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here, baby, it’s okay.”

- The team dispersed to give you space, but you wouldn’t have noticed them anyway. Your sobs quieted, but Deacon didn’t let you go. His eyes were closed, his nose buried in your hair.

- You took in the sound of his breathing, his heart beat, the smell of him.. Alive. He was alive and okay.

- You eventually pulled back and looked at him, his brown eyes soft as he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears, resting his forehead on yours. “It’s alright. I’m all good, baby.. It was Tan.”

- Your brows furrowed in concern, and Deac pulled you to his side, walking with you down the hallway as he explained. That Tan had been shot and rushed off in an ambulance, him and the team having to stay behind to answer questions.

- He left you outside the locker room, promising to be quick as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and dipped inside. Your arms wrapped around yourself as you waited, having him gone from your side this short period of time already worrisome.

- He must have changed at the speed of lightening, because he was out the door and taking your hand in no time. He led you out to the car and opened the door for you, promising Street and Chris would bring your car home. He knew you wouldn’t leave his side.

- The drive home was quiet, his hand a constant, soothing pressure in your leg as he drove. You kept a hand over his, eyes drifting over to him the entire drive.

- He parked the car and grabbed his bag, getting out and coming around to your door, helping you out and pecking your cheek before leading you inside.

- You wish you could calm down about the whole thing, but for some reason getting home with him after all the worrying, seeing him safe, brought more tears to your eyes.

- Deac had been through this kind of thing before, with Annie. The worry, the fear. It never quite left, she just grew used to it. But this was all new to you, and he felt terrible.

- He set his bag down and drew you closer, guiding your arms around his middle before hugging you to his chest, hand cradling your head and voice soothing you. “Shh.. It’s alright, baby, I’m right here.. I’m sorry I scared you today.”

- You shook your head and sniffed, hands gripping tight to his shirt as you whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m-.. Blubbering like a baby. This is just how your job is.”

- “That doesn’t mean you can’t worry.” He pulled back and looked down at you, hand moving to your cheek. “You probably think I’m ridiculous.” You whispered, leaning into his touch. He firmly shook his head and leaned into, pressing his lips to yours.

- Deacon knew you had concerns about the age gap between you both. He knew you had fears of being younger, more “emotional”, and that you’d upset him with it. But quite frankly, Deacon didn’t even notice, nor care. You were younger, sure, but just as invested in this relationship. And sometime he had the impression Annie couldn’t have cared less if he came home, those last few months of his marriage. The love you had for him written all over your face.. It healed him.

- You kissed back softly and slowly melted into him, his scruffy kiss calming your pounding heart. His hands slid over your lower back and gently pulled you in closer.

- You heard a faint thud as he nudged off his shoes and you did the same. The extra height that they gave you was gone and you stood even shorter now, and you could feel Deacons smile as he dipped down to you.

- Your hands ran up over his chest and torso, feeling the chiseled muscle before they dipped lower, hands going under the hem and desperatly roaming over his bare skin. The warmth, the familiar dips and curves of his body.. It was all a comfort.

- You didn’t miss how his body arched into your touch, or the goosebumps that rose on his skin. He lifted his arms and let you push the fabric of his shirt up, breaking the kiss so he could pull it off the rest of the way.

- His breathing was heavy and uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you. He let the fabric fall where he stood before gently grabbing your blouse, fingers working with unnatural speed as he undid the buttons.

- His eyes never left yours as he pushed the shirt over your shoulders. He simply pulled you back to him and moaned against your lips as your bare skin met his.

- Your soft whimpers and whines made his cock harden in his jeans, and it wasn’t long before he was guiding you up the stairs, clothes being lost along the way. Both of you stumbling and tripping as he laughed softly, your answering grin making his heart sing.

- By the time you hit the bed, both of you were naked. Deacon crawled over you and instantly pressed his lips back to yours, his hands soft and featherlight as he let them roam over your body.

- Deacon was usually rougher in bed, which suited you just fine. But something was different tonight. His kisses were soft and soothing, his hands gentle as they caressed every curve of your body, grabbing and squeezing gently at your hips and thighs.

- Your breathing hitched in your throat as you felt his hand slip between your thighs, fingers trailing through the wetness of your slit before finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. Your answering moan made him smile and he gazed down into your eyes, his usual primal gaze soft and loving.

- He pressed his forehead to yours and glanced down at your parted lips, eyes and ears eating up every movement and sound from you. “That’s it, baby, relax.. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always try my damndest to come home to you and the kids.”

- Your eyes never left his as he spoke, a blush creeping over your cheeks at his promise. You swallowed hard and nodded, legs spreading as you felt a finger dip into you, a whimper slipping out. “I love you, David.”

- The words couldn’t have been more than a whisper, but his answering smile and mumbled “I love you.” Made your heart beat quicker.

- He took his time with you that night, every moment gentle and emphasized with affection. His fingers and mouth devoured you for what felt like hours. You tried to get your mouth on him but he gently pushed back down into the bed and promised you next time.

- His thrusts were so slow, so gentle, you could have melted right there into the sheets. He held you to him the entire time, hand on your thigh, then your cheek as your leg tightened around his hips.

- His lips never seemed to leave your skin. Your cheek, jaw, neck, chest, anywhere he could reach. He was kissing and marking you, leaving you reminders that he adored you.

- Deacon was never shy about being vocal, but tonight he seemed even louder. His grunts, groans, raspy moans of pleasure drove you insane. Your toes curled every time he thrust into you and a deep grunt sounded in your ear.

- His back was a mess of scratches and nail marks that he’d admire in the morning, no doubt. The first time you ever had sex with him, you were embarrassed and apologized profusely for the mess on his back. He simply grinned and silenced you with a kiss.

- Your orgasm built so slow and steady, you didn’t notice it until it was right there. You were so focused on him, feeling him inside you and pressed into you, you practically cried in pleasure. It was more intense than any other you’d had with him.

- You was cumming only a moment after you, and his cursing and moaning in your ear told you he felt the same. The hot spurts filling you made your toes curl, and when he collapsed half on top of you, you wrapped yourself around him, savoring the feeling.

- He was still nestled inside you, his cum slowly leaking out between your legs, when he finally moved. Pulling out oh so gently before laying beside you, gently tugging you into his chest and covering you both up.

- He’d always been a gentleman and cleaned you up first, but tonight he knew you needed to be held. The mess could wait.

- You nestled your head on his chest and closed your eyes, his steady heartbeat in your ear soothing. His hand stroked gently through your hair, his kisses on your forehead making you smile.

- “Thank you..” you whispered softly. You felt his answering smile in your hair, but he shook his head as his fingertips trailed down your back. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

- You were almost asleep when his phone went off from somewhere in the hallway. It was still in his pocket when you both made your way up here, stumbling out of your clothes.

- He cursed softly and gently moved you, steps soft and quiet as he grabbed his phone and returned to you. He slipped right back under you and held you close, free hand checking his phone as you watched with sleepy eyes.

- “Tan is gonna be just fine.” The relief in his voice was obvious, and you smiled wide, leaning up and kissing his scruffy cheek.

- He set his phone on the night stand and adjusted the blankets before hugging you close, both of you relaxing and falling asleep in no time.

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Diavolo x Male MC Fic: Soft Strokes of Words and Christmas Sweetness

The Devildom palace was unusually quiet for the week before Christmas. Normally, the halls were alive with cheer: crackling fires, the faint scent of cinnamon, and garlands of frost-touched holly. But this year, silence loomed like a storm cloud, heavy and oppressive.

MC wandered the corridor leading to Diavolo’s private study, balancing a tray of tea and pastries. He hesitated before knocking. Diavolo had been avoiding everyone lately, drowning in the weight of royal duties, endless meetings, and preparations for a season that no longer seemed joyful to him.

After a muffled, “Come in,” MC pushed the door open to find Diavolo slumped over his desk. Papers were scattered across the surface, and the once-vibrant demon prince looked utterly drained. His golden eyes, normally so bright with mirth, were dull.

“MC,” Diavolo greeted, his voice strained but polite. “You didn’t have to—”

“I did,” MC interrupted gently, setting the tray on the table. “You’ve been in here all day. You need a break.”

Diavolo exhaled heavily, leaning back in his chair. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t afford to stop. There’s too much to do. The holiday festival, the council’s demands, ensuring peace with the Celestial Realm and the Human World—” He shook his head. “It’s exhausting, MC.”

MC hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know.”

Diavolo gave a small, humorless chuckle. “That’s the curse of a ruler, isn’t it? Even in the season of joy, I feel… trapped.” Seeing the normally unshakable prince like this tugged at MC’s heart. He hesitated, then placed a hand on Diavolo’s shoulder. “You give so much to everyone else. Let me take care of you for once.”

Diavolo’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the earnestness in MC’s tone. “MC…”

“Just for tonight,” MC continued, voice soft but firm. “Let’s forget about the festival, the council, and all the rest. I can’t stand seeing you like this, Diavolo.”

For a moment, Diavolo simply stared at him, the weight of his crown momentarily forgotten in the warmth of MC’s touch. Then, he gave a small nod. “Alright. Just for tonight.”

MC smiled, a mix of relief and shyness. “Good. Now, come with me.”

Diavolo allowed himself to be pulled away from his desk and out into the palace gardens. The air was crisp, the stars twinkling brightly overhead. MC had strung up fairy lights earlier, their soft glow casting the space in a warm, golden light.

“This is beautiful,” Diavolo murmured, his voice tinged with awe.

“It reminded me of you,” MC said quietly.

Diavolo turned to him, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Of me?”

MC flushed but held his gaze. “You’re always shining, even when you’re tired. You don’t see it, but you make everything around you brighter, Diavolo. And… I just wanted to give some of that back to you.”

Diavolo’s expression softened, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile graced his lips. “You’re incredible, MC. Truly.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the world around them fading away. Then, almost hesitantly, Diavolo reached out and took MC’s hand in his own.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Not just for tonight, but for being here—for always being here.”

MC’s heart raced, but he managed a soft smile. “I’ll always be here for you, Diavolo. Always.”

As the fairy lights flickered above them, Diavolo leaned closer, his golden eyes locking onto MC’s. The world felt still, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. “MC,” Diavolo murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the reason I still find hope in all of this.”

And in that moment, the burdens of the Devildom seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of their connection under the starry sky.

[lorenz0servant]

friends with benefits..

age gap (only 1 year loveys!)

hufflepuffXslytherin

drunk theooo

hint of smut

childhood friends to fwb

shorttt

this is kinda bad i’m sorry

You and Theodore Nott became friends on the hogwarts train in your 1st year, while he was in his 2nd year already, by time he had became your tutor and that’s how you guys became friends.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on Theodore’s bed, your best friend of many years. With your head resting in his lap, you lost yourself in the pages of a novel that had captured your imagination. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm, golden glow across the room, illuminating the scattered remnants of your last study session.

Theodore, with his gentle demeanor, absentmindedly ran his slender fingers through your silky hair, a gesture that felt both soothing and familiar. This moment was a cherished routine for the two of you, a sanctuary where time seemed to stand still despite the outside world’s whispers of oddity regarding your close bond.

As you turned a page, the corners of your mouth curled into a smile, lost in the story. Yet, a playful spark flickered in Theodore's eyes as he broke the comfortable silence. “Can we roam the halls or something, amore?” he asked, a hint of mischief lacing his voice. The word ‘amore’ slipped off his tongue effortlessly, and you could feel your heart flutter at the endearment. It was a gentle reminder of the special connection you shared.

You tilted your head back, feeling the warmth of the sun against your skin, and gently placed your book on your stomach, its pages fluttering slightly in the breeze of the open window. With a hint of exasperation in your soft, melodic voice, you looked over at Theo. “Is it really impossible for you to just sit still for at least twenty minutes? We’ve wrapped up our classes for the day, so why push ourselves to do more?” You raised an eyebrow, hoping to convey both your concern and your desire for a moment of peace.

“Honestly, I don’t want to just sit here while you’re completely absorbed in your book,” he said, dragging out the vowels in a playful, childlike manner. “Why don’t you go hang out with the boys for a bit? They’ve been pestering me to let you join them, so why not? I really need to buckle down and study in my dorm anyway.”

His expression shifted suddenly, his face falling into a look of exaggerated disbelief. “Wait, are you really just trying to get rid of me?” he asked, feigning hurt, placing a dramatic hand over his chest as if he’d been deeply insulted. The corner of his mouth twitched, threatening to break into a smile, but he held his composure, reveling in the playful banter.

You sit up straight, feeling the weight of the moment as you swing your legs off his bed. “You’ll be fine,” you reassure him softly, glancing up with a warm smile. “Why don’t you go hang out with Draco and the others? I bet they’re waiting in the common room for you right this minute.”

You gently lift your book from the rumpled covers, its pages fluttering slightly in the quiet room. As you set it aside, you slip into your favorite black Mary Janes, the polished shoes giving a satisfying click against the wooden floor. He watches you with wide eyes, as if taking in the sight of you preparing to leave.

He bounces off the bed, urgency in his movements, and stands there, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. “Fine,” he says, his tone tinged with playful annoyance. “But you HAVE to send an owl to let me know you miss me.” The corners of his mouth twitch, fighting a smile, and you can’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness.

“I won’t miss you enough to send an entire owl back to your dorm, Theodore,” you tease lightly, your voice filled with a playful lilt. You watch him for a moment, noticing the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Now, go on and enjoy your time with your friends,” you add, nodding encouragingly towards the door.

With a friendly gesture, you step closer and wrap your arms around him for a brief side hug, feeling the warmth of his presence. It’s a simple gesture, but one that says more than words could express—friendship, camaraderie, and the bittersweet reality of parting ways, even temporarily.

You linger for a heartbeat longer, savoring the familiarity, then gently pull away. With a final glance over your shoulder, you make your way out of his dorm, the door clicking shut behind you as you embrace the evening ahead.

You were immersed in your studies in the cozy confines of your dorm room when a sudden thud echoed through the air, jolting you from your concentration. Instinctively, you reached for your wand, raising it as you slipped into a defensive stance, heart racing. The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Theodore, his clothes rumpled and a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. The unmistakable scent of alcohol hung around him, and his unfocused eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you, adding a sense of chaos to the already tense atmosphere.

“Theodore, oh my god, you scared the salazar out of me!” You exclaimed, facepalming in disbelief as he clumsily stumbled toward you. His tall frame loomed over you, hands snaking gently around your waist as a goofy grin spread across his face. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and affection, and his lips were slightly parted, revealing a hint of vulnerability. “I missed you… so much,” he slurred, and the warmth of his words sent an unexpected thump of emotion through your heart—not in a negative way but in a sweet, aching manner.

“Look, when I said hang out with the boys, I meant go play Quidditch or something, not to get all drunk.” you chided lightly, trying to infuse some sense into the fuzzy haze of his inebriation. You had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, as he towered over you at 6’2”, while you stood a petite 5’3”.

With a teasing grin, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, causing you to instinctively step back until your knees brushed against your bed. In one smooth motion, he spun you around playfully and sank down onto the edge of your bed, leaving you standing before him. His hands roamed up and down your waist, tracing the contours of your figure with his calloused fingertips, sending tingles up your spine.

As he pulled you closer, you felt the warmth of his body radiating against yours. He buried his face softly into your stomach, just beneath your ribcage, his breath heavy and uneven. “Sit on me, please…” he murmured, his words tumbling out in a slurred, almost desperate manner.

“Wait, what—?” Before you could finish your thought, he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and settling you onto his lap. Instantly, his hands found their way to your lower back, squeezing gently but possessively. He tilted his head against your neck, his previously playful demeanor shifting to one of vulnerability.

“Shhh, just enjoy the moment,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. You sighed, feeling the weight of the circumstances curl around your heart. You knew what he needed in that moment—it wasn't merely the comfort of your body, but the solace of understanding and connection, and you were more than willing to be that for him, you knew he needed you in a lustful way..you could feel the bulge in his pants at the moment.

You slid off his lap slowly and got on your knees infront of him as he was sat on the bed..you unbuckled his belt and took it off..

“how about.. you just sit here and enjoy the moment hm? i’ll do all the work..”

[iitslera]

Baby on the way : JJ Maybank x Reader ⋆ pt2

summary: JJ and his girlfriend (reader called Grace) become young parents.

warnings: English is not my first language (I use the iPhone translator), I don't use y/n (the reader's name is Grace or Gigi as JJ calls her), apart from that, I think it's pure fluff.

a/n: I'm in love with JJ dad, in my profile you can find a list of JJ being dad. ⋆ I'm receiving requests from JJ and Rafe, (I hope to improve my English level soon to stop using the iPhone translator) Based on S4 after buying the house from the bank, enjoy. ⋆ Who should be Kai's godfather/godmother?

𖹭.ᐟ pt1

I was about twenty weeks along, and JJ accompanied me to every checkup I had. That day, we were going in for an ultrasound to see how the baby was doing. JJ was more excited than ever, joking along the way about how he was ready to confirm his "hunch" that it was a girl.

When the doctor started moving the transducer over my belly, and the baby appeared on the screen, JJ went completely silent, his eyes fixed on the image. I was the same; every time I saw the baby, I felt a mix of wonder and love that I couldn’t describe.

“Would you like to know the baby’s sex?” the doctor asked, her warm smile reassuring. We looked at each other for a moment, and JJ was the first to nod.

“Absolutely,” he said, barely able to contain himself. The doctor pointed at a spot on the screen and calmly told us:

“It’s a girl.” JJ let out a soft, triumphant laugh, as if he’d always known.

“I told you, Gigi. I told you,” he said, gripping my hand tightly. I couldn’t help but laugh as tears welled up in my eyes.

“A girl…” I repeated softly, as if I needed to say it out loud to make it real. JJ leaned down toward my belly with a huge smile.

“Hi, Kai,” he said gently. “I knew it was you.”

It was such a simple moment, but it was filled with magic. We walked out of that office hand in hand, knowing our world had just changed forever.

The delivery was far more intense than I had imagined. It all started in the early hours of the morning when the contractions became more frequent and painful. At first, I tried to ignore them, thinking it might just be a false alarm. But it didn’t take long for me to realize this wasn’t going to be easy.

I woke JJ up with a start. I was so tired, but the pain made me cry out, and in the blink of an eye, he was by my side, worried but trying to stay calm.

He looked at me with those blue eyes full of concern, and I could see that, despite his usual confidence, he was nervous too.

“Is it time?” he asked, his voice trembling. I nodded, breathing hard as I clutched my belly. JJ sprang into action, rushing to get everything ready.

The bags were packed, but the chaos of nerves made everything feel more urgent. Still, he never stopped being there for me, making sure I was as comfortable as possible as we headed to the hospital.

When we arrived, they quickly brought me to the delivery room. At that moment, everything became a whirlwind of emotions. The contractions grew stronger, the pain unbearable. JJ stayed by my side the entire time, holding my hand and offering words of encouragement, even though I could see the fear in his face. I knew he was just as scared as I was, but he was trying to keep me strong.

“You’re doing amazing, Gigi,” he kept saying, as if his words could ease the pain.

Hours passed, and when I finally felt like I couldn’t do it anymore, the doctor gave me the final push: with one last effort, Kai came into the world, breaking the silence of the room with her first cry.

That moment was magical, indescribable. Though the pain had been immense, the sound of her cry made everything disappear. My heart filled with a joy so pure that I couldn’t stop smiling. JJ, his eyes glistening, held her in his arms and brought her to me with infinite tenderness.

“She’s perfect, Gigi,” he whispered, looking at both of us with a smile that made everything feel right.

In that instant, all the fear and uncertainty I’d felt throughout the pregnancy melted away. Little Kai was here, and together, JJ and I knew this was the beginning of our new life.

Our friends arrived at the hospital early the next morning, their faces full of excitement and eagerness to meet the baby. JJ couldn’t hide the smile he’d had since the moment she was born.

They entered the room almost silently, as if afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. As they approached the bassinet, their expressions softened with tenderness at the sight of the baby, so small and fragile, peacefully sleeping. Pope, with his usual humor, whispered, “I think she already has more hair than JJ,” drawing laughter and easing the tension in the room.

JJ explained how he’d stayed awake all night, watching her every little movement. Between jokes and stories, they each took turns holding her, handling the newborn with the utmost care, as if she were the most precious treasure.

The room was filled with a warm and special energy. Everyone talked about how the baby seemed to bring them even closer, as if each of them was already part of this new extended family. With words of love, gifts, and promises to always protect her, that first meeting became an unforgettable memory for everyone.

Kiara leaned over the bassinet, carefully reading the tiny hospital bracelet on the baby’s wrist. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the name JJ and I had kept secret throughout the pregnancy.

“Kai!” she exclaimed, a mix of shock and excitement on her face.

JJ, with a proud smile, crossed his arms and said, “I knew it’d surprise you.”

“It’s beautiful,” Sarah said, gently touching the bracelet as if she wanted to etch the name into her memory. “Though we should’ve guessed, shouldn’t we? You two always have a special touch for everything.”

I smiled, watching as she tenderly stroked the baby’s tiny hand. JJ added in his usual teasing tone, “It was hard to keep it a secret, but it was worth it to see your reactions.”

Cleo laughed, shaking her head. Then, with a spark of excitement in her voice, she started talking about how the name seemed to fit the baby perfectly, as if it had always been hers.

It was one of those simple yet meaningful moments that stay with you—a small celebration of our decision and the love everyone already felt for our little Kai.

Coming home with the baby was a mix of emotions: happiness, nerves, and a new sense of responsibility we had never felt before. JJ and I left the hospital with Kai snug in her little blanket, while I held her tiny body carefully, as if the entire world depended on that moment.

The car ride home was quiet, though JJ drove like we were carrying the most fragile treasure, slowing down at every curve and constantly checking the rearview mirror. “Are you sure she’s comfortable back there?” he asked repeatedly. I just smiled as I watched our daughter, peacefully asleep, unaware that her life had just begun.

When we got home, opening the door felt like crossing a threshold into a new chapter. The space felt different, warmer, as if the house knew a new life had arrived.

Those first moments were pure awe. JJ stood watching her as I gently laid her in her crib for the first time, whispering, “I can’t believe she’s here.”

Soon came the first challenges—how to settle her in, how to make sure everything was perfect for her—but even in the exhaustion, there was something magical in every tiny movement, every little sigh from our daughter.

That first night was both exhausting and beautiful. JJ insisted on staying up to watch over her, making sure she was breathing well and not moving too much. I knew he was nervous, but seeing him so devoted to his role as a father filled me with love.

Coming home with Kai didn’t just mark the start of a new routine—it felt like the house itself had transformed, filled with a peace and joy we’d never known before. Our home was no longer just a place; it was the space where our family’s story was beginning.

Our friends were always checking in, ready to help whenever we needed them, offering their unconditional support.

Cleo seemed to anticipate our needs before we even voiced them. Pope, on the other hand, shared every bit of baby advice he’d picked up from books. One afternoon, Sarah showed up with a pack of diapers and said, “I have no idea how to put these on, but I’m here if you need me.”

There was something comforting about knowing we could rely on them. If we needed a moment to rest, one of them would offer to hold Kai and gently walk around the house with her while we caught our breath. They were also there to listen to our doubts, fears, and little victories, like Kai’s first bath or the first night she slept for three hours straight.

JJ often joked, “I think this baby has more aunts and uncles than any other kid,” and though he said it lightheartedly, we both knew how lucky we were to have them.

Their support made us feel stronger, more secure, and, most of all, deeply grateful for the incredible network of love surrounding our little family.

[merakiui]

Absolutely love the possessive ex Scaramouche ramble in tags, please feed us more of that.

Gladly!! :D

(cw: yandere, extremely toxic ex scara, modern au, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, coercion, obsession, forced marriage, violent/suicidal threats, manipulation, mentions of intoxication/alcohol, implied self-harm)

The two of you were what everyone calls ‘high school sweethearts.’ You met him in the cafeteria when the both of you were first years. Despite the scowl etched on his face, he looked lonely sitting all by himself while everyone was finding tables, old and new friends gathering in groups. He’d ignored you, even scooting further away when you’d attempt to move closer. Even though he seemed so averse to you, you remained, silently eating your lunch. Neither of you said anything, but you did introduce yourself. He scoffed under his breath.

You started to sit next to him for every lunch, and he continued to give you the silent treatment. You never pressed him for conversation, instead choosing to enjoy silence while you ate and admired him from the sidelines. He never looked at you, always facing forwards and toying with his chopsticks, bending them so far until they were ready to snap. Eventually, he seemed to grow accustomed to this routine because many weeks into the semester he turned to address you.

“Why do you always sit by me? Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think anyone’s as mysterious as you are.”

“‘Mysterious…’ Yeah, whatever.”

That seemed to be the catalyst because, as sardonic as he was, he’d begun talking to you. And it wasn’t long until he started to warm up to you every lunch until the both of you were exchanging lighthearted banter. Your friendship would only grow from this point onwards until, at the end of your first year during a study session to prepare for finals, where you were both pulling an all-nighter at your house, he’d asked you out. And you said yes, and the both of you had gone from best friends to lovers within the span of a year. The both of you were each other’s first partner, so it made doing things as a couple even more exciting because neither of you had any experience with dates or holding hands or kissing.

Kuni wasn’t a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was very loyal and sweet. He’d stand up for you if anyone was being rude to you or scrutinizing your relationship with hateful eyes. The two of you were nearly inseparable. When you weren’t spending time together in school, you were out doing things together. And when you couldn’t meet up in person, you’d text or call, sometimes talking late into the evening about all sorts of things. You were so immersed in him that you failed to notice the red flags slowly raising over time. But looking back there were a few notable ones.

He never invited you to his house. In fact, you’d never even met his parents, whereas he’d been to your home so often that your family practically became his own. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his family, and if you tried to suggest going to his house for dinner so that he could introduce you to them he was quick to change the subject. For a while you’d push this, more curious than concerned, but eventually you’d drop it when it became clear that he wasn’t going to divulge anything on the matter. That had stung, but you snuffed those feelings in favor of focusing on other aspects of your relationship.

The second red flag was just how clingy he became when the both of you were in your third year, having been together for two solid years. You never noticed it before because you loved him, but when friends had pointed out how attached he seemed—and it was to rather unhealthy levels, according to their observations—to the point where you were the only person he’d ever formed a bond with while at school you started to see the cracks in what felt like the perfect relationship. He’d text you every single day, at every single hour, all the time. He’d call you nonstop, even more so when you didn’t immediately pick up.

The third red flag coincided with the second. When you couldn’t make it to your phone, he was quick to blame himself and those around him for being responsible for your deteriorating relationship. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Did those guys bother you again? They probably told you some stupid shit about me, right? Don’t listen to them. Hey, you’re not mad, right? Call me back. I need to talk to you. Just text me when you can, okay? (Name), please don’t leave me. I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Just promise you’ll stay. Messages of these kinds were what you could expect to receive from him. He’d fluctuate between self-loathing to loathing those around him within seconds, shoving blame onto classmates who’d bully him for being that “weird emo kid with too many piercings” and anyone else who tried to, in his words, “come between you and me.”

By the end of your third year, you started to fall out of love. He was so very dedicated to this relationship, evidenced by how much effort and care he’d put into it, but his clingy behavior was stifling. You’d lost some of your own friends because he chased them away, and it felt like you couldn’t do anything without him breathing down your neck. If you wanted to go anywhere with a friend or two, Kuni had to be there to accompany you. If you looked at another for too long, he’d think you were cheating. If you didn’t text or call him at certain times, if you failed to pick up, or—Archons forbid—you left him on seen, he’d spiral.

Kuni had this habit of sounding dangerously self-destructive when he feared you were being unfaithful or he thought you were going to break up with him, which meant you’d have to sit on the phone for hours convincing him that you loved him, that you’d never leave him, that you’d always be here for him, that you were sorry for not responding, that he needs to calm down and please, please, please don’t do anything rash. Those phone calls were always so stressful. You cried a lot; you’d beg him to put the knife away when he’d threaten to use it on himself, on you, on anyone who might try to take you from him. And, after a few hours of this, he’d be back to his usual self, as if a switch had been flipped. You could hear his adoring smile in his voice when he spoke, when he’d lovingly whisper into the phone, “I’m happy you’re mine. I love you so much.” And you’d shakily parrot the affirmation, too frazzled to say or do anything else.

One of your best friends Rosalyne, who you’d befriended in the midst of all of this, had been so supportive the minute you spilled the truth to her. Kuni hated her the most because she wasn’t afraid of him. Because she’d shut him down when he tried to pull you away from her. Because she wouldn’t approve of any of his toxicity. Rosalyne would take you on shopping sprees, brunch dates, and jogs at the local park. She was plenty of good to outshine Kuni’s bad, and the more time you spent with her the clearer your head would become. The both of you had plenty of sleepovers together, and she let you rant your heart out while she listened. She’d tell you to break up with him, but you’d agonized over how terrifying that would be. You couldn’t bear to tell Kuni the truth—that you wanted to separate because things had turned so rotten—because you were so scared. Scared of him and what he might do.

Scared that if he really did take a blade to himself it would be your fault. He told you that a lot. That it would be your fault if he did anything. That his blood would be on your hands. You believed him every time.

By your final year, you’d already had a plan for university outlined and you’d started applying to a few in advance. You never told Kuni about any of them because you worried he might apply to each one in hopes of going to the same school as you. And when there was the dance for the graduating class and Kuni had asked you to it, you’d told him you were going with Rosalyne and a few other friends as a group. He didn’t like this, as expected, but you’d been so sick of him and his behaviors that you snapped and spilled everything to him. You’ll never forget the look on his face when you told him that you were done with the relationship and that you never wanted to see him again.

He looked as if he could lunge at you and tear you to bloody ribbons at any moment.

You graduated single and so very refreshed, and your summer had been filled with friends. Kuni didn’t message you at all, which was surprising considering you were certain he’d spam you relentlessly after the break-up. But he never did. In fact, you never saw him again. Graduation had come and gone, and now that you could recover from such a terrible relationship he was becoming less of a burden for you. For a while you were anxious. You kept expecting to receive a phone call or to see some news about Kuni, but neither ever came. Rosalyne told you to stop thinking about him. It would only make you even more paranoid and that wouldn’t do your mental health any good. You were so grateful to have her in your life, but most importantly you were glad Kuni failed to scare her away.

Now you’re a second year in college and things have only gotten so much better for you. You and Rosalyne still keep in touch despite going to different schools. She’d gone to a university in Snezhnaya, while you enrolled in one in Sumeru, and you’ve blotted Kuni from your mind. You’ve made a fresh group of friends while attending classes: criminal justice major Shikanoin Heizou, creative writing major Kaedehara Kazuha, musical therapy major Venti, botany major Tighnari, and so many more wonderful people who have all welcomed you into their circles.

So when Venti drags a familiar face to your usual weekend outing, which is really just a retreat to the forest for drinking and smoking, creeping cold settles into your bones. He looks awkward with Venti’s arm slung around him as the more bubbly of the two drags him towards the bonfire, where you sit with the others roasting marshmallows for s’mores, and it’s a look that is so uncharacteristic on him. What’s even weirder is how friendly everyone greets him—as if they all know him—and you’re completely lost when they turn to you and ask if you’ve met Kunikuzushi.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, forcing a pleasant smile and extending your hand for a stiff handshake, which Venti snickers at. “No, I’ve never met him before.”

Apparently, he’s in one of Venti’s classes—it’s a course he’s taking solely because he needs the credits. Tighnari knows him because they usually work the same shifts at the campus café. Kazuha knows him from his linguistics and philosophy classes. Heizou’s ate with him in the dining hall plenty of times now and they’re also taking the same psychology class. It feels so genuine and yet so fake at the same time. Too perfectly manufactured to be a mere coincidence. But you do your best to push past these suspicions, and when he sits across from you, smiling at you and saying how nice it is to meet you, the warping flames paint his face in devilish shadows. That’s what you think he is when he acts like a completely different person from how he was when you dated: a devil who’s good at being kind and outgoing, noisy and abrupt, and always so foul-mouthed, but in a way that makes him charming. Your friends are so enthralled. They love him and his sense of humor. They love his quick wit. They love how fun he is. And suddenly weekends spent in the forest aren’t so enjoyable.

You do your best to overcome your doubts. For a few months you’re on edge. How he even found you is a mystery. Surely he wouldn’t stalk you and enroll in the same college just to get revenge or…whatever vengeance he wants from you. But when he treats you to coffee, when he brings you and the others pastries every other morning, when he invites the lot of you to study at the library, when he tells the funniest stories while crossed and everyone’s giggling like schoolgirls it really feels like he’s…healthier. Like he’s turned a fresh page in his life and is starting anew. Like he’s changed for the better.

Perhaps he just doesn’t remember you. You’ve changed your style over the years, so it’s possible he’s simply forgotten your image and can’t place memories to your name. Eventually, after soothing yourself with these theories, you begin to accept his presence in the group. He fits in so flawlessly, as if he’s a missing piece to the puzzle, and you can’t believe you’re admitting this, but you like this version of Kuni. He’s confident, not cocky. He’s kind, not rude. He gives everyone space. In fact, he rarely texts frequently in the group chat. And he’s funny! He’s so funny. You don’t think the Kuni from your past was ever as funny as the Kuni who regales everyone with lighthearted stories of how he once took in a stray cat that turned out to belong to his neighbor or how his old job had the strangest customers.

Maybe he truly did change. Maybe all of these coincidences really are coincidences. Maybe it’s for the best that you leave the past in the past.

Finals season looms, and the group hasn’t had time to meet up outside of class. Venti has tried to persuade everyone to come study at his apartment. His roommate won’t care (yes, he will. Xiao hates it when everyone gets blackout drunk and he has to wake everyone come morning), but if you’ve known Venti long enough you’ll know there is no studying that happens at these study sessions. This is probably the reason why he’s had to repeat a year.

With everyone’s schedules packed with academics, it’s difficult to find a time where everyone can get together to study. You think you might just be better off studying on your own, but Kuni’s message of you wanna pull an all-nighter for these lame af finals together?? accompanied with a photo of snacks and coffee, any thoughts of studying alone instantly vanish.

This is how you find yourself in his dorm, sprawled on his bed while he sits on the floor, whacking your dangling feet when they get too close to him. His roommate Albedo is currently out tutoring a few students at the library and won’t be back until much later, so it’s just you, Kuni, and a pile of textbooks and notes. You’ve hung out with Kuni a few times and he was great company during each. You’ve also fallen asleep in his dorm before, when you’d come over to binge a show the both of you enjoy, and you’d lost track of time and had slipped into a dream halfway through the marathon. You’d woken the next morning with Kuni looming over you, grinning deviously and holding an uncapped marker. He’d leaned down and whispered, “You drool in your sleep,” and you’d swatted at him and groused about how you were sleeping so peacefully when he just had to ruin your sleep (and your face) with his antics. And then there was that time when you were so drunk at that one party and you could hardly stand, he’d been there to help. He even stayed with you for the rest of that night, offering his assistance when you became nauseous or needed water or a snack until you passed out.

Despite your initial apprehensions, you consider him a friend. He’s no one nearly as close as Rosalyne or your other friends. He’s just a mutual friend, someone you’ll spend time with when you feel like it, but you don’t truly need him in your life. That, and part of you still struggles to trust him after all of the stress and unhealthy obsession he subjected you to.

“Kuni,” you whine, lifting your head from the textbook. “Can you get me some water? I’m thirsty.”

“Do I look like your maid?” he snaps, immersed in organizing his notes. “Get it yourself.”

“I’m picturing it now and you’re in a frilly dress and—”

“Forget I asked.” Setting his notebook down with an exaggerated sigh, he crosses the distance to the mini fridge and withdraws a bottle of water.

Grinning, you slide off of his bed and reach for it with a grateful hum. He smirks and takes a step back, holding it away from you.

“Seriously…”

Rolling your eyes, you lunge for it and he side-steps you with the practiced grace of a cat. You brace yourself against the wall and swipe at him. Again, he dodges, unscrewing the cap and shaking the bottle teasingly.

“I think I’ll take a sip for myself. All of this studying has left me so parched.”

“No fair! That’s mine!”

“Is it?” He pulls it away from his lips to observe the bottle and feigns surprise. “That’s weird. I don’t see your name on it.”

“Look closer!” you exclaim, but just as he’s about to humor you you pounce, tackling him to the ground—there’s a beanbag cushion that breaks your fall—and the water spills all over the both of you in the midst of the tumble. A slew of colorful words stick in Kuni’s throat and your laughter rings out melodiously. You seize his wrist and hold it down while reaching for the bottle in his other hand, where there’s still some water left. He struggles halfheartedly, relinquishing the bottle with a disinterested scoff, and you pull away from him to down what’s left.

While crushing the plastic bottle into a ball, you notice something on your palm—the palm that had grabbed Kuni’s wrist—and it takes a minute before the skin tone-colored substance registers in your mind.

Concealer.

You peer at him and notice that he’s cradling his arm, and confusion sprouts.

“So funny,” he spits with a hollow laugh. “You owe me a new beanbag if this one’s ruined.”

“Hey, hold on. What’s with the—”

“Forget it. You got your water, so let’s get back to studying. Or do you no longer want to be a perfect student?”

Without thinking, you grab his arm as he’s standing and when you look at his forearm you can see where the water’s started to wash the concealer away. Curiously, you scrub at it while he tries to yank his arm away, but when you unearth a dozen scars littering his wrist and climbing the length of his arm that creeping cold from before returns.

And suddenly you’re brought back to those phone calls—the ones where he’d threaten suicide and murder—and you stumble back as if you’ve been burned, half-expecting to hear those threats once more. Kuni’s staring at his wrist, his features twisted in grim disapproval, and for a moment you think he looks…hurt. Or maybe that’s sadness you see. Whatever emotion it was, it doesn’t linger because a quiet chuckle slips past his lips, and the sound is so very frigid it has your blood crystallizing.

“It really hurt when you said you never wanted to see me again.” Kuni peers down at you, and his eyes that had once been so bright and filled with light are dull and dark. “But nothing hurts more than loving you.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words won’t come. You’re rooted to the ground, horror slinking through your body and rendering you immovable. Your heart is in your throat, pounding so loudly it’s practically a drum, and a cold sweat washes over you.

“Each time I found myself hating you, I thought it was odd because I love you so much. I can’t possibly hate the one I’ve loved all this time.” He scowls. “But loving you hurts. Loving you feels like chewing glass and drinking poison. Loving you isn’t fair because while you moved forward with your ‘friends,’ I was forced to stay behind and pick up the pieces of what was left of you. So for every moment I couldn’t stand you, I tallied it on myself so that I’ll never forget the times I loved you so much I hated you.”

This can’t be happening, you’re thinking, curling your hands into trembling fists. He changed. He changed, right? This isn’t the same Kuni from before. This isn’t…

“And when I saw how well you seemed to be doing without me, I hated you even more.” Without warning, he’s grabbed your arm and hoisted you up. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes—not that anything could when he’s pulled a switchblade from his pocket and poised the pointed tip at your jugular. “You have poor taste in friends. Those guys suck.”

Tutting, he shakes his head at you like a parent might when scolding a child, and says, “Do you know how fucking tiring it was pretending? You think I care about pastries and stupid campfire stories? You really think I’d ever want to associate myself with that sorry lot?”

“K-Kuni, please let go of me. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were—I’m sorry. So please just…”

“And then the first time you see me after all these years apart and you had the gall to lie to my face! ‘I’ve never met him before.’ Bullshit. You just didn’t want any of your loser friends to know our history, right? Because you’re ashamed to have known me, right?”

“That’s not it! I… I was just—I didn’t… I was… I just…”

“I… I… I…” he mocks, shoving you down onto the beanbag. It dips under the sudden weight, and you sink further into it when he points the blade at you. “Stop tripping over your tongue. I should be the one near tears! You cast me aside and then forgot all about me. You abandoned me when I needed you most.” His voice cracks at that last sentence, and your heart skips erratically.

“That’s not what happened! We needed space. I needed space. You were being too—” You stop yourself, unsure of how to phrase it. Too controlling? Too dangerous? Too scary?

“Lucky for you, I’m willing to overlook these past...slights.” The blade twirls effortlessly in his grasp, and you heave a relieved breath when he’s no longer pointing it in your direction. “Marry me and we’ll forget all about the past. We’ll start over.”

His demand almost stops your heart altogether. You stare up at him, mouth agape, and mumble a disbelieving, “What?”

“You heard me.” He seems to soften with his next words, and for a moment he looks and sounds like the Kuni who hangs out with you and your friends. The harmlessly fun Kuni who always takes such good care of you. “You’re the only one I’ll ever love, so let’s get married.”

“K-Kuni, I can’t... I really can’t...”

Within seconds the blade has found itself on his wrist, pressing into delicate flesh. Not enough to cut, but if he applies more force you’ll definitely see blood. You choke on a horrified gasp.

“What was that?” He raises his brow at you, challenging you with a calm smile.

Your mind reels in an effort to conjure a plan. What can you even do? If you take the blade from him, will he turn his anger on you? Will you have to wrestle him into submission? And if you do manage to get out of his dorm, will anyone believe you? He’s painted himself in such a pleasant light. Your friends love and trust him! So what can you say? And if there isn’t any solid proof, no one will even entertain bringing the authorities into this mess.

“I’m waiting, (Name). Are you really going to make me add another tally? Do you really want me to hate you again? Oh, but maybe I should start marking you! We can add a slice for each time you failed to love me. That way we’ll both look like used cutting boards.”

You need help, you want to say, but the words escape you.

Instead, you nod hastily and say breathlessly, “Okay, yes! I’ll marry you!” Swallowing your horror, you glance at the blade as it’s lifted from his skin. Thankfully, there isn’t a cut. “I... I’ll marry you, Kuni. So... So please don’t hurt yourself. Please.”

It feels like you’ve been strangled for an eternity, so when he finally pockets the blade the air in your lungs returns and you collapse against the beanbag, chest rising and falling in short, panicked breaths. 

“Good.” He bends down to your height, grips your chin with cold fingers, and forces you to meet his adoring stare. “We’ll look at rings tomorrow. Or maybe you’d prefer bracelets instead? I can be flexible but only for you, so you’d better be grateful.”

You swallow rising bile and nod. “T-Thank you.” You’re not sure why you’re thanking him when he hardly deserves it, but it feels like the right thing to say to ease the tension.

Kuni’s eyes sparkle, no longer a void of endless darkness, and when he leans in to capture your lips in his your heart sinks. You really can’t run from your past, can you?

[cathnospam]

Content Warning: College MHA AU, Oral (F! Receiving), Bakugo being Bakugo, Reassurance, SoftDom!Bakugo

You cried during sex and it freaked Bakugo out…

“B-bab—-y/n?!” The soft concerned look on his face in contrast on what he was just doing between your thighs was almost enough to make you break into a chuckle.

Not knowing what personal space is he cupped your chubby tear stained cheeks with his warm sweaty palm and rubbed the wetness away the best he could, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?!”

You blink, you could feel your high slowly wearing off if it wasn’t for his knee rubbing up against your clit. He didn’t even realize he was so close. “Huh?”

“Did I hurt you? Why —why didn’t—“

The tears just flowed naturally from your face, this was your first time with him and this new feeling of passion left you overwhelmed, his kissed, his curious touches, the groans and pants coming from you both as you rolled around in the messed up sheets of his bed.

His mouth was just as curious and intense as his hands, and in Bakugo fashion he gave it his all, looking up over the valley of your pretty breast to take notes of your reactions; to watch your face change when his tongue flicks in a new area, his lips practically made out with your lower ones which drew out a slurry “Katsuki~” and whine, which turned him on so much he kept doing so until he slid his thick muscle inside you, his ego inflated in ways he didn’t think could hearing you whine and moan for him, he grew confident, shaking his head back and fourth, in circles softly groaning while the slick mixture of his drool and your arousal. His forearm holding down your thighs to get a wider view of your his pretty pussy.

Who knew he was such a messy eater.

But he stopped, you started crying.

The blonde would first hurt himself before he ever hurts you, especially after giving him the chance to share such an intimate moment . He panicked.

“Katsuki, it’s okay.” You cut off his stammers, his voice was already cracking, you tend to forget how sensitive he really is under that hard exterior. You rose your back up on the headboard and pulled him down, his arms changing you in on the side of you, “I wasn’t in pain. It was the opposite.”

“How, dumbass you fucking—“

“Shut up.” You try to keep a deadpanned face, but the scent of your pussy on his breath made you subtly bite your lip, it was hot. “Well first off you were overstimulating me. Secondly, sometimes we can instinctively cry when something feels good or overwhelming, kinda like when you see people cry during weddings. They’re…happy tears.”

His face was pouted, small beads of sweats trickling down his forehead, and cheeks so warm and squishy you pinch ‘em to get a reaction out of him, “Tch….i knew that.”

“….I was really making you feel good?”

You smile, landing a slow kiss on his slightly thinner ones and tugging his fattier lower lip, you nod, “You made me feel really good. So good I cried. It’s a compliment.”

Bakugo ponded for a few seconds,finally relaxing his body to let you hold him for a moment, your heart beats laid in sync with each other, enjoying the quiet ambiance of his dorm , naked and comfortable.

“Do you still wanna keep going or wanna try again later?”

“Only…only if you want to—-I mean I do obviously, but I don’t wanna make it weird.”

“You couldn’t make it weird if you tried I wanna keep going….i was close.” You fake pouted at him, a crack of the smile came from Bakugo, he sighed in fake annoyance rising up,

“Then lay back,” He says as he pulls you by your thighs so you can lie flat on your back, “this time don’t cover your mouth when I eat you, okay? ….You sound hot.”

“We won’t hear the end of it in class tomorrow…”

“I don’t give a fuck.” His last words were muffed by his lips pressing against your sticky gooey pussy.

[pepperyduck]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[dearieshima]

WANT

✦SUMMARY

╰┈➤ Choso, your big-dick, virgin boyfriend, had never ventured beyond the fervor of deep kisses. His unfamiliarity with human intimacy, coupled with the fear of losing himself in the overwhelming rush of release, kept him tethered to restraint. He wants to overcome his fear and have a mind-blowing experience with you and he needs your help to guide him through.

"Please, please," he panted incoherently, his words a mix of desperate pleading and mindless begging. "Please don't stop... I'm... I'm right there... so close... please..."

✦C.W

╰┈➤ virgin!choso, submissive!choso, dominate!reader, established relationship, hand job (m!receiving), kissing the tip, crying, soft sex kinda, praise, 3586+ words, orgasmophobia, AFAB reader, comfort

The heat between you two was electric as your lips locked in a passionate battle for dominance. Your bodies were pressed close, hearts racing with exhilaration. As the kissing grew more intense, you found yourself tiring from bending on your toes. Your thighs ached, crying out for a change in position.

Slowly, you lowered yourself, allowing your body to sink onto Choso's lap. As you did, you felt his hardness pressing instantly against you through the fabric of his sweats. He hissed at the sudden contact, his hands gripping your tights with a firm grasp.

You began to leave a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck and down his collarbone. All the while, you grinded your hips against his, relishing the delicious friction. Choso groaned, tossing his head back off the edge of the couch, exposing more of his throat to your eager lips and tongue.

But suddenly, he sat up straight as a board, his back rigid against the cushions. At the same time his chin clashed with your forehead, his hands clenched your thighs, lifting them slightly off him as if to create some distance between your bodies.

He was panting, his mouth wide and his breaths shuddering. "Not yet..." he said, his voice a low, husky whisper. His eyes were dark with desire, and his hands gripped your thighs tightly as he held you in place. "Fuck..."

You raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in your eyes as you slipped off his lap. "Is everything alright?" You pressed a hand to your forehead, your own breath still shallow and uneven. You asked not just because his chin likely throbbed like your head did, but because of the suddenness with which he had ended things, like you were hot coal thrown on his body.

Choso nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as he took in deep, steadying breaths. His hands clenched together in a bundle in his lap, guarding his obvious arousal. Then they unfolded and Choso bent down, his hands now guarding his face in embarrassment. "Yeah," he rasped, his voice rough. "Just... need a moment. Can you turn off the music?"

You reached for the remote, your movements quick and deliberate, and silenced the T.V, the sensual ambient music fading away. The room was now filled with the sounds of both of your ragged breathing.

He straightened and looked back up at you with lust-clouded eyes. "Sorry…” he began, his eyes averting, “I didn't expect you to... get so aggressive," he whispered.

"I’m sorry," you whispered sincerely, concern etched on your features. "Should we stop for a moment? I won't be offended if you need a break, or if you want to stop all together."

Choso shook his head and then chuckled weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "No... it's okay. You just..."

He paused, his hands loosening their grip on his sweats. He took another deep breath and looked up at you with a gentle smile. "You just caught me off guard, that's all."

Choso, your big-dick, virgin boyfriend, had never ventured beyond the fervor of deep kisses, not even tempted during in the intimacy of shared showers. His unfamiliarity with human intimacy, coupled with the fear of losing himself in the overwhelming rush of release, kept him tethered to restraint. The idea of surrender, of being swept away by ecstasy, haunted him. He feared that in offering you all of him, laying his soul bare, he might unravel in ways that would make you turn away.

Yet, beneath that fear, a deep yearning stirred within him. He longed to share those tender, unspoken moments of intimacy with you. He had watched scenes of lovers consumed by their lust, eyes ablaze with passion. Choso wondered how they could give so much, how they could surrender fully and still be loved for their vulnerability, how their eyes could carry so much love and at the same time a burning hunger to devour each other. He ached to know that with you, to feel your skin against his as you moved together in perfect sync, to look in each other’s eyes in worship and at the same time, think of how much you wanted to see the other crumble. He imagined looking into your eyes in that moment, seeing the reflection of love and desire, wanting to watch you break apart, knowing he was the cause.

The thought sent his heart racing - the idea of tracing slow kisses along the curve of your neck, feeling the softness of your body beneath his fingertips, hearing your breath hitch in pleasure. Choso wanted nothing more than to make love to you, share whispered confessions meant only for your ears. But his fear stood like an unmovable wall, holding him back, uncertain if he could ever give in to that kind of surrender.

But tonight, he’s willing to climb that wall, just as long as you scaled it with him.

"How about this," you whispered, your breath tickling his ear. "How about you tell me how I should help you? Tell me what you like."

Choso’s eyes widened, pupils widening like ink spreading in water, his breath steadying as your words sank in. A soft flush bloomed across his cheeks, warm and unbidden, like the first light of dawn catching fire in the sky. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve mistaken it for the stirring of his blood technique.

Choso swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts. He took a moment to think, swallowing heavily as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I... I don't really know," he admitted sheepishly. "I've never done anything like this before, so I don't really know what I like."

"We've kissed before, and touched a little. Did you like anything I did before?"

Choso nodded, his blush deepening. "I... I liked it when you were on top of me," he admitted, his voice slightly hoarse. "And when you... when you kissed my neck."

With a graceful motion, you swung your leg over Choso’s lap, settling into place as your gaze locked with his, deep and smoldering. His hands found your hips as if drawn by an unspoken force, fingers curling gently against your skin, the connection between you as natural as breathing. "Do you want me to kiss your neck?"

Choso nodded, his breathing growing heavier as he imagined it. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, thick with yearning. "Please," he added softly, the word trembling in the air, as though without it, you might deny him what he so quietly craved.

Slowly, teasingly, you leaned in and brushed your soft lips against the sensitive flesh of his neck. Choso shuddered, his hands gripping your hips as a soft gasp escaped his parted lips. You continued your assault, trailing open-mouthed kisses along his throat, tasting the salt of his skin. "Don't stop," Choso whispered urgently, his voice thick with desire.

You followed the unspoken rhythm, lips grazing softly down to his collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in your wake. Your mouth lingered at his throat, brushing the delicate curve of his Adam’s apple as it dipped with a quiet tremor of pleasure. With a slow, deliberate path back upward, you paused to let your tongue dance over the quickened beat of his pulse. Choso’s breath escaped in a quiet, low groan, his head falling back in a gesture of blissful surrender, as if yielding entirely to the moment between you.

"You're being so good for me," you murmured against his throat, nipping lightly. "I love how responsive you are."

"More," he breathed, his voice shaky. "I want... I want more."

"What do you want me to do?" you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Choso's hands gripped your thighs tighter, his body tensing. "I want... I want you to keep touching me," he said, his voice trembling a little. "I want you to keep making me feel good."

"Where do you want me to make you feel good, Choso?"

Choso's breathing grew ragged as he considered your question. "Everywhere," he said hoarsely. "I want you to touch me... everywhere."

As he spoke, his hands moved from your thighs to your hips, his fingers tracing patterns against your hips. "I want to feel your hands all over me," he added, his voice strained with need.

Your fingers trailed from his neck, down the center of his chest, following the contours of his muscles. "Like this?"

His own hands flex on your hips, fingers digging in slightly as if to anchor himself. The air between you is charged, heavy with anticipation. Choso's chest rises and falls rapidly, his skin flushed and gleaming in the low light. He looks utterly debauched already, and you've barely even touched him. "Y-yes," he gasped. "God, yes. That feels... that feels good."

As you run your fingers along his chest, you can feel the warmth emanating from his skin, like a furnace burning beneath your touch. His muscles twitch and ripple under your fingertips, responding to your gentle caresses. You can sense the power and strength within him, and it's utterly captivating. "Do you want me to continue going down?"

Choso's heart rate quickened as your question sunk in, and he swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing. "Yes," he whispered, his voice ragged. "Please, yes."

Your hands move lower, tracing the contours of his abs, feeling the way they tighten and relax as his breathing becomes more labored. You can hear his heart pounding, the rhythmic thumping echoing in your ears like a primal drumbeat. It drums fast, and you have a hunch to where the extra blood flow is traveling to.

When your fingers skim over the waistband of his pants, Choso lets out a choked moan, hips canting upwards in a silent plea. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his body trembling in anticipation when your forefinger hooked both his sweats and boxers.

"Color?"

Choso shuddered as your finger teased the edge of his pants, and he took a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Green," he said, his voice raspy but determined. "Definitely green. Please, don't stop."

You sank to your knees, your hands caressing his thighs as you parted his legs. With deliberate slowness, you parted his legs, revealing the bulge beneath his pants. Your mouth watered in anticipation as you peeled away his restrictive garments, unveiling his rigid, pulsating cock. It stood proud and erect, a deep shade of purple at the engorged tip, the foreskin pushed back, a clear sign of its untouched, virgin state. You noted he was uncut, which also fueled the testament that nobody had ever ventured near his dick before.

Droplets of pre-cum glistened at the tip, hanging like droplets from a leaf, beckoning you to catch them with your tongue. Your heart raced as you leaned in close to adjust yourself, your warm breath teasing the sensitive head of his cock. The salty musk of his arousal filled your nostrils. You couldn't resist any longer. Your tongue darted out, catching one of the droplets, savoring the taste. The sensation of your velvety tongue on his hypersensitive skin caused Choso to gasp, his hips bucking instinctively in a whine. After, you leaned in close, your warm breath ghosting over his skin as you placed a single, feather-light kiss on the very tip.

His hands gripped the couch cushions on either side of him, as if clinging to something to anchor himself. "Color?" you asked softly, your voice gentle and soothing.

Choso took another shaky breath, his chest heaving. "Green," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "I-I'm okay. Just... please keep going."

His hands remained clenched tight around the couch cushions, his knuckles turning white.

"Are you sure?" you asked, reaching out to gently touch his hand. "You seem so tense."

Choso swallowed, his cheeks flooding with a deep blush as his thumb circled nervously at your hand. "I... I'm just a little nervous," he admitted softly. "But... but I want this. I want you," he added, his voice a strained whisper.

Listening to him, you let go of his hand and snuggled up between his thighs, your breasts gently pressing against the soft cushions of the couch. Your fingers, like curious tendrils, began to snake their way down his rigid shaft, tracing the bold, pulsing veins that ran along its length.

Choso let out a sharp gasp, his body involuntary jerking at your touch. His eyes squeezed shut, and he panted heavily, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths until he could steady himself enough to speak. "Y/N..." he breathed your name, his voice a mixture of awe and desire. "That... that feels good..."

"You look like you're about to explode."

Choso's breathing grew even more ragged, his chest heaving erratically as you continued to touch him. "I... I feel like I am," he admitted, his voice strained. "But I don't want to… I don’t want to make a mess…"

He grips the edge of the couch tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. You can see the conflict in his eyes. "If I keep going, you're going to," you say, stopping your hands. "It's okay to let go, Choso. I promise you'll feel better, and I'll be gentle."

Choso took a couple more deep breaths, his body visibly shaking with the effort to hold himself together. His eyes met yours, a mixture of fear and desire in them.

"I... I don't want to embarrass myself," he said, his voice low and vulnerable. "I want to make you feel good too... I don't want to fail."

"You won't embarrass yourself because it's just me and you," You said, gently. "Making you feel good makes me feel good."

Choso's gaze held a mixture of vulnerability and yearning, and you could see the relief wash over him as he nodded. His voice, a soft, husky whisper, trembled ever so slightly as he spoke, "Just... just go slow, please."

Complying with his request, you allowed your hands to reclaim their position, your fingers tracing languid circles around his hardening length. Your fingers danced along his shaft, tracing the pulsing veins and ridges. You could feel him throb and twitch beneath your touch, his breaths coming faster now. Gently, you swirled your thumb around the sensitive head, smearing the glistening precum in slow, teasing circles. Emboldened by his whimpers, you wrapped your fingers around him fully, stroking up and down in a steady rhythm. Your other hand came up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Choso's head fell back against the edge of the couch, his eyes pinched shut. A deep, guttural moan escaped his lips, and his body trembled. "Oh God," he panted, his head falling back onto the couch.

"Shh," You said, "it's alright, Choso."

Choso shuddered, his hands clenching the edge of the couch even tighter than before. "I... I can't..." he breathed, his voice ragged. "I don't know how..."

His body tensed even more, the muscles in his thighs trembling. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breaths came in sharp gasps. "I... I’m going to..." his voice trailed off, too overwhelmed to continue.

"You don't have to think about it, just trust your body." You whispered, your breath hot against his skin.

Your hands moved faster, stroking and squeezing with expert precision. Choso's body writhed beneath you, his muscles tensing and releasing in a delicious rhythm. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps, and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

"Please, please," he panted incoherently, his words a mix of desperate pleading and mindless begging. "Please don't stop... I'm... I'm right there... so close... please..."

His fingers dug deeper into the cushions, leaving small indentations behind. His breathing grew more ragged, and you could feel the tremors running through his body. You slowed your movements, teasing him mercilessly, watching as he struggled to maintain control.

"Y... Y/NNN..." he croaked, your name coming out slurred in his mouth, drunk on the feeling you were giving him.

"Don't beg me," You said, gently as my hands continued their speed. "I can't make you release. If you want it, you need to let go yourself.”

Choso's body was taut, his legs trembling from the effort he was exerting to keep control. He took a shuddering breath, opening his eyes to look at you, tears of frustration and pleasure brimming in them.

"It’s going to be okay."

A bead of sweat trickled down Choso's temple as he drew in a labored, quivering breath. His chest heaved, the muscles straining with the effort of restraint. His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire, flickered shut, surrendering to the insatiable hunger that had been gnawing at him. He trusted you, and he trusted his body.

His head fell back against the plush, velvety cushions of the couch, the softness cradling his skull as he succumbed to the tidal wave of carnal bliss. His right hand slammed on his mouth just as the dam within him burst, unleashing a primal, guttural moan that reverberated through the room.

Choso's hips bucked off the couch, his body arching in a frenzied, involuntary response to the euphoria coursing through his veins. Warm, sticky semen gushed forth, painting the air with strings of rampant lust. Some of the thick, pearly essence landed on your face, tracing a hot, wet trail down your cheek before you could tilt your head. Your tongue darted out, tasting the salty favor of Choso's essence.

As the final, shuddering spasms wracked his body, the last of his release coated his abdomen, your fingers traced the path of the spilled cum, smearing it across his skin in a sensual caress.

“Good job,” you whispered softly, your words a gentle anchor, bringing him back from where he had drifted.

Choso's body, slick with sweat and the remnants of his climax, trembled beneath your touch. His chest rose and fell in deep, ragged breaths, signaling the aftershocks of his orgasm. His eyes, still closed, fluttered open, meeting yours with a hazy, satisfied gaze.

Choso let out a long, shuddering sigh as he collapsed back onto the couch, his body spent and trembling. He looked dazed, his eyes half open and his breaths still shallow.

His chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath he took, his body still recovering from its release. "Wow," he breathed, his voice a little raspy. "That was... that was..."

His eyes darted to you, as if trying to find the words to express what he'd just experienced.

They widened, unabashedly taking in the sight of his cum in your hair as you cleaned yourself, the crimson hue staining his cheeks blazed in a vivid blush. His voice, still rough, trembled as he stammered, "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for... for that to happen on... on you."

You smiled, the corners of your lips curling upward as you crawled back onto his lap, your body pressing against his, igniting a spark of desire between you. Choso shifted, pushing himself into a sitting position, his fingers raking through his disheveled hair in a mixture of embarrassment and lust. "It's okay," you reassured him, the warmth in your tone inviting. "I liked it, and you were enjoying yourself so it's okay."

Choso's blush deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears as he admitted, "I... I did enjoy myself." His voice quivered, the intensity of his confession palpable. "A lot. Like...a lot a lot."

"That's good," you murmured, your voice a soft caress against Choso's ear, as you eased yourself onto his lap. The heat of his body enveloped you, and you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Your fingers threaded through his hair, each stroke a tender exploration, eliciting a low, contented sigh from the man beneath you.

His strong arms encircled your waist, drawing you closer, their warmth a comforting embrace. Choso leaned into your touch, his body yielding to the gentle pressure of your fingertips, the tension in his muscles dissolving like snow under a spring sun.

"I don't think I've ever felt so..." he began, struggling to find the right word. "So... spent. But in a good way."

Your eyes met his in a brief, intimate glance, and you offered a small, knowing smile. "Do you feel as if the weight of the world has been lifted, if only for a moment?"

Choso considered your words, his brow furrowing before he shook his head.

Your head tilted to the side, an innocent quirk to your expression as you gazed up at him, the flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "Hm? Why?"

He returned your gaze, his own eyes now smoldering with a newfound hunger, the fire of lust consuming the depths of his gaze. The intensity of it shot a shiver down your spine.

"I... I feel relaxed," he began, his voice slow and deliberate, "but I also feel... I feel like I need more. You haven't cum yet."

"I’m okay, Cho. Tonight was just about you."

Choso's head shook from side to side. "No," he said huskily. His fingers drawn circles on your waist as his hold on them tightened. He looked at you, his pupils widening and a blush settling in his face. "I want to make you feel good too. I don't want to be the only one to feel this."

part 2