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[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “…. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[beloveds-embrace]

(poly 141 x sick!reader)

The sound of rain pattered against the windows, soft and soothing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest. The medication was doing its best, but there was only so much it could do when your body seemed determined to work against you.

You coughed softly into your sleeve, hating the weak tremor that followed. The plush comforter was tucked up to your chin, but warmth still felt just out of reach. Your parents had hired the team months ago after receiving one too many threats, and while you had initially bristled at the idea of four men shadowing your every step, you’d quickly grown accustomed to their presence.

It was hard not to.

Captain Price had a steady, grounding aura that made you feel safer just by being near him. Ghost was quieter, more intense, but he’d surprised you with unexpected softness when he thought no one was looking. Soap’s humor had carved through your anxieties more times than you could count, and Gaz- Gaz was the one who always made sure you ate, drank water, and had everything you needed before you even realized you needed it.

They made you feel protected.

But tonight, even their presence couldn’t completely chase away the unease creeping up your spine.

“Not sleeping, love?”

Price’s voice startled you, and you turned toward the door to see him leaning against the frame, arms crossed but eyes soft. He stepped inside, his boots surprisingly quiet on the polished floor, and came to kneel beside your bed.

“Sorry,” you murmured, feeling guilt curl in your chest. “Didn’t mean to keep you up.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, brushing his knuckles against your forehead to check for fever. “You know we don’t sleep unless you do.”

Before you could reply, a soft knock came at the door, and Soap poked his head in, carrying a cup of tea that was no doubt brewed exactly the way you liked it.

“You’re awake,” he said with a grin, stepping inside and offering you the mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You took it gratefully, inhaling the scent of chamomile and honey. “You don’t have to keep fussing over me,” you said, though the words lacked any real bite.

Gaz wandered in next before they could reply to you, holding the blanket you liked most. “Yeah, we do,” he countered easily. “Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Ghost was the last to arrive, silent as always, but he lingered closest to the door like a sentinel. Even with his mask that once scared you, you could see the way his eyes softened when they landed on you.

The four of them surrounded you, and despite the lingering ache in your bones, you felt safe.

You set the mug down once it was half-empty, already feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Price pulled the blanket up higher, tucking it around you like he had so many times before.

“Close your eyes.” He murmured.

“I don’t want to-”

“You’re safe,” Ghost said quietly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “We’ll be here.”

It was hard to fight the pull of sleep when all four of them were so close, their combined presence lulling you into something warm and soft and safe. You let your eyes drift shut, your breathing slowing as the tea worked its magic.

They stayed until they were sure you were asleep.

The first noise was subtle.

Ghost’s head snapped up, and Price immediately rose from his spot beside the bed. Soap and Gaz exchanged a glance, already moving toward the door without a word.

It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to get inside. And it wouldn’t be the last.

Price leaned down, pressing a hand against your shoulder when you stirred faintly. “Stay asleep, love.” He whispered before following the others out.

The house was dark, but that didn’t slow them down. Ghost moved like a shadow, his knife already drawn as he signaled to Soap. They caught the first man before he even had the chance to react.

Gaz was quieter, slipping down the hall and cutting off the second intruder’s escape route. The scuffle was quick, brutal, and over in seconds.

Price handled the last one himself. The man barely had time to raise his weapon before Price’s fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“Clear.” Ghost murmured, wiping his knife clean on the intruder’s jacket.

Soap crouched down, checking for identification, and then sighing when he found it. “Same group as last time.”

Price cursed under his breath, already reaching for his phone to call the cleanup team and your parents.

“They won’t make it upstairs.” Gaz said, voice steady despite the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins.

“They never will.” Ghost added, tone final.

They worked quickly, dragging the bodies out the back while Soap wiped down any lingering traces of blood. By the time they returned to your room, the house was silent again.

You woke to find the bed empty and the dim glow of the hallway light bleeding under the door.

Pushing back the covers, you slipped out of bed and padded toward the stairs. You weren’t sure what you expected to find- maybe one of them sitting at the kitchen table or keeping watch by the windows- but instead, you were met with Price coming up the steps.

“Hey,” you said softly, rubbing your eyes.

He froze for a split second before schooling his features into something softer, too fast for your mind or eyes to catch. “What are you doing out of bed, love? You need your rest.”

“Couldn’t sleep, John.” You admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. A tremor goes through you, the warmth from your bed and blankets ebbing away slowly.

Gaz appeared behind him, stepping around to stand in front of you. “You’re supposed to be resting, dovie. Come on.” He repeated, gently taking your hand and guiding you back toward the bedroom.

“Why were you all up?” you asked, glancing between them with a concerned. “It’s too late for all of you, no? I know you work in shifts but today wasn’t like that…”

Soap appeared next, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Routine check,” he said smoothly, face softening when he looked at you. “Jus’ making sure everything’s locked up. Yer so sweet, hen, but we know how ta do our jobs, dinna worry yer pretty head.”

“Again?”

“Can’t be too careful,” Price said, his hand resting lightly on your back as they guided you back to bed.

Ghost slipped back into the room last, silent as ever, though his eyes softened the moment they landed on you. He didn’t speak right away, just took a long, careful look as if reassuring himself that you were still there- still safe. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice low and steady as he said, “Back under the covers, love.”

You didn’t fight him. You never did. Not with them.

The bed was warm, the blankets heavier now as Gaz tugged them up higher, making sure you were fully tucked in. Soap lingered by the nightstand, placing the freshly cleaned mug of tea from earlier far away enough even if you moved in your sleep, it wouldn’t fall off.

“Try again,” Price murmured, lowering himself to sit beside you. His calloused fingers brushed your hair back, slow and gentle, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

You blinked up at him, tired but trusting. You still didn’t know when exactly it had happened- when you’d stopped flinching at the closeness, stopped second-guessing the comfort they so freely gave. But you’d never regretted letting them in.

Not when it felt like this.

“We’re right here.” Price added, his voice a quiet promise, and you felt the words settle deep, anchoring you.

Soap crouched at the side of the bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Sweet dreams, bonnie.” He said with a grin, though his voice was soft enough to soothe the lingering tension in your chest.

Gaz gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over the blanket. “We’ve got you.”

Ghost stayed by the door, his sharp gaze fixed on the windows before flickering back to you. He didn’t move until your breathing evened out, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle into something steady. Only then did he step out, closing the door with deliberate care.

But even once the door was shut, he lingered in the hall, his fingers resting on the handle as if to reassure himself that he could open it in an instant if you needed him. He waited, just to be sure, before finally moving away.

“She’s sleeping,” he murmured once he joined the others downstairs. His voice was quieter than usual. “Checked her breathing- still steady.”

“She needs rest,” Gaz said, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Nights like these don’t help.”

“They won’t happen again.” Ghost said, firm and low

Soap exhaled sharply, rubbing at his jaw with the rag he’d been using to wipe his hands clean. “She disnnae need ta know.” he murmured, the words heavier than the rest.

“No,” Ghost agreed, his voice low but certain. “All she should have to worry about is resting.”

Gaz leaned against the wall, his arms crossed but his eyes lingering on the stairs. “She’s safe,” softly, he spoke. “That’s all that matters.”

And they all nodded in quiet agreement.

Ghost checked the locks one last time, Price double-checked the security feeds, and Soap peered through the curtains before returning to his spot near the stairwell. Gaz made another sweep of the house, moving silently through the dark before settling in by the living room window.

The rain picked up outside, heavier now, but inside the house, the warmth lingered. It was safe. Quiet. What you needed, and what your parents had hired them to ensure for you.

And upstairs, you slept soundly- soft breaths filling the room, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of fresh laundry and tea, surrounded by the presence of men who would tear apart anyone who dared to disturb you.

Sheltered in their arms, you never even stirred.

[luveline]

missing spencer x stripper reader these days

—Spencer visits the strip club unannounced. fem, 1.1k

Spencer can’t be clinical about it forever. You’re a sex worker. He doesn’t care, but he can’t ignore it when you look like that. 

You’re standing by the bar slouched backward, your abdomen bent forward, an unsexy position if you were to ask a patron, but weirdly endearing from where Spencer’s standing. Your heels are completely clear. He can see your toes, their painted nails, and the bandaid on the back of your foot where you twist. “Can I have another water, please?” you ask. 

The lingerie is blue. Spencer loves blue. Three pieces, a bra, underwear, and a suspender belt holding stockings the colour of your skin. He knows this is just work, that he’s not being a good friend thinking about how pretty you really look, but it’s not just pretty. His ears start burning the longer he sees it. You shift your weight from one foot to another and your thighs looks soft. 

You take your new glass of water and press yourself flush to the wall. Then you level your gaze and see Spencer watching you, expression jumping from happy to confused to knowing. 

“Hey, Spencer,” you call, hard to hear over the music pounding and the sound of men jeering at to the left near the big stage. “Are you here to see me, or is it a pleasure trip?” 

He clears his throat as discreetly as possible and makes his way to you. The heels make you taller, your legs longer, and the lingerie reveals simple things he doesn’t often think about, the shapes of your breasts, the curve of your sides, your hips leading down… Oh, god, he thinks, feeling sorrier than sorry. 

“You okay?” 

“I came to ask you that.” 

You frown, perturbed. “Why?” 

“You didn’t answer your phone. I just wanted to make sure everyone was still being nice to you.” 

Your frown softens but doesn’t fade. “It’s broken.”

See, he’d believe you, but you used to wear this Tiffany necklace with a soft bevelled heart around your neck until recently, when you told Spencer you lost it, and showed him your second tell. When you’re in pain, your hands tend to strain from you, pushed out and fingers curling. When you lie, you smile too soon, and your eyes catch on the freckles on his nose. 

He pulls open his messenger back and sorts through papers for the black and silver mobile. It’s his emergency phone; should something ever happen to the first, he still wants to be able to contact the outside world. “Here,” he says, offering it to you. 

You’re still. “I can’t take your phone.” 

“It’s a spare. A burner phone? I bought it for emergencies, and this could be one.” 

“Spencer, I can’t…” 

“Please, will you? I’ll get another one.” 

You need a phone. Maybe ten years ago you could get by without one, but you need a phone to arrange bills, talk to your landlord, your boss, your doctor, whatever. Being without one in an emergency could mean bad things. 

You take it, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not very fast,” he says. “There’s a prepaid sim in there for now, but I can get you a real one.” 

“I can do that. Thank you, Spencer. I’ll pay you back.” 

“I don’t want you to pay me back,” he says with a real smile. 

“I could pay you back… with a dance?” You lean across to tap his elbow. “I saw you looking at me, Spencer Reid. We can go somewhere private.” 

Suddenly, it’s like the air in the room is being sucked out, leaving him, and you, and your beautiful bare skin alone in a tight space. 

He raises the arm you’ve tapped to tap you back. “You’re beautiful,” he says, sure you can see the blood in his cheeks, “but I don’t need anything from you. I want you to have the phone because I know you walk home by yourself most nights, it’s not so you owe me. You don’t owe me anything.” 

He shouldn’t have added that last part. He’s worried you’ll be angry with him for saying something that might embarrass you, but you give him a softer smile. Real, and nothing like the playful fire you’d held when you were offering a dance. “You sure?” you ask quietly. 

“I thought we were friends?” 

“I think so too.” 

“Can I ask you something unrelated?” 

You squint with mock suspicion. “That depends.” 

“Are you cold?” 

You laugh, grabbing his arm as you do to steady yourself on your precarious footwear. “I’m surprised I haven’t got hypothermia,” you say, face tipping gently to your shoulder. “But I don’t think I’d make any money in a hoodie.” 

Spencer doesn’t see how that could be true. You're one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, if not the prettiest, and even if you were in a hoodie that would still leave your legs to make money. He’s sure they could. He’s also sure that he shouldn’t say that aloud, instead digging through his bag for the real thing he’d brought you. “Here,” he says, handing you a chocolate chip and strawberry protein bar, “for your rumbling stomach.” 

Those few nights you’d stayed with him, you’d been a little shy and more afraid, probably worried he’d hurt you while you were vulnerable, though he had no intention, but you’d start to let pieces of you through the cracks. You like dancing but not men. You like fresh fruit, the smell of a new car, and buying new clothes. Stripping isn’t, like, easy, you’d said once, sitting cross-legged on his couch with a bowl of soup and that awful shiner, It probably looks easy. People think that the hardest part is being pretty, but it’s not. 

What’s the hardest part? he’d asked, sympathetic and curious simultaneously. The hardest part statistically would be the high rates of femicide and assault. 

It makes you so hungry. It’s like constantly working out every night.

“That’s for me?” you ask. 

“So you can survive your workout.” 

“Spencer, I think you’re the most romantic guy I’ve ever met.” 

He presses the protein bar in the same hand as the phone, ducking his head just a bit, just to see you clearly. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” 

You seem to think this is the funniest thing he could’ve said, pressing your face briefly, heart-achingly to his shoulder, before pulling away to beam at him. “Don’t be sorry. You’re the best guy ever. And I had this investment banker come in a few days ago who gave me a hundred dollars to listen to him talk about his new kitten.” 

“I’m surprised I beat that.” 

You spread a hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t worry about competition, Dr. Reid.” 

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ his soft spot .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

⤿ bakugou’s softer side shines through when he’s with you.

You sighed as you leaned against the wall of the dorm hallway, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as you waited for Bakugou. He was late—again. It was supposed to be a simple date, but of course, Bakugou being Bakugou, nothing ever went as planned.

The door to his room slammed open, making you flinch slightly. There he was, hair still damp from a rushed shower, his usual scowl plastered on his face. “Tch, what’re you standing there for? Let’s go,” he grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Nice to see you too, Katsuki,” you replied dryly, pushing off the wall to walk beside him.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes forward as you both headed outside. The autumn breeze was cool, and the streets were quiet. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His face was as sharp as ever, all hard lines and furrowed brows, but there was a faint pink dusting his cheeks. He always got like this before your dates—awkward, but too stubborn to admit it.

The silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You’d grown used to his brash nature, and he’d somehow learned to tolerate your teasing.

“Y’know,” you began, smirking, “if you didn’t want to go out, you could’ve just said so instead of making me wait like an idiot.”

His eye twitched, and he shot you a glare. “I didn’t make you wait! I was—” He stopped himself, gritting his teeth. “Whatever. You’re lucky I’m even doing this.”

“Oh, wow, I’m so honored,” you teased, clasping your hands dramatically.

“Keep it up and I’ll turn around right now,” he warned, but there was no bite to his words.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and for a moment, his glare softened, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile.

The two of you ended up at a small park, sitting on a bench near the fountain. The night sky was clear, and the sound of water was oddly soothing. You leaned back, enjoying the atmosphere, while Bakugou sat stiffly beside you.

“Relax,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but he finally leaned back, his arm brushing against yours.

After a while, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “You…really like this stuff, huh? Going out, sitting around…”

You turned to him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “Yeah, I do. It’s nice. And it’s even better with you.”

He scoffed, but you caught the way his ears turned red. “You’re such a sap.”

“And you’re a grump,” you shot back with a grin.

He huffed, but his hand slowly moved to yours, his fingers brushing against your knuckles. You glanced down, your heart skipping a beat when he laced his fingers with yours. It was rare for him to show affection like this, but it always made your chest feel warm.

“Don’t get used to this,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the fountain.

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Too late.”

Despite his grumbling and glares, you knew the truth: Bakugou had a soft spot for you, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

⋆˚✿˖° . . . j’s message. sorry for not posting for a week, i’ve been really busy this past few days as my exams are nearing, so here’s a fanfic of bakugou and i will try to post another one this week. That’s all thanks for reading my loves!

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[niniwritesxo]

‘and it’s not just the water bottle is it?

kang daeho x fem reader

tags: part two of ‘you thirsty?’ , fluff

——————————————————————————

You should’ve known Daeho wasn’t going to let you off the hook. He’d been relentless since the water bottle incident, and now it felt like he was everywhere. Always watching you, always smirking, and always looking infuriatingly good while doing it.

It didn’t help that every time he was near, your thoughts spiraled into a mess of irritation and something much harder to ignore.

You were sitting on your bunk, doing your best to focus on patching up your torn tracksuit, when his voice cut through the silence.

“You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart.”

You froze, your fingers fumbling with the needle. Slowly, you looked up to see him leaning against the bunk across from you, arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

He looked effortlessly good, his tracksuit jacket unzipped slightly, revealing the sharp lines of his collarbone and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied, looking back down at your sewing.

“Sure you haven’t,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ve been busy,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Busy pretending I don’t exist?” he asked, pushing off the wall and taking a slow step toward you. “Come on, just admit it. I make you nervous.”

“You don’t,” you said quickly, though your voice wavered.

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You glared at him, your cheeks heating. “What do you want, Daeho?”

“I want to know what’s got you so flustered,” he said, stopping just a few feet away. He tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Because every time I get near you, you act like you’re about to explode.”

“I’m not flustered,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

He smirked, leaning down slightly so you had no choice but to look at him. “Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And it’s not just the water bottle, is it?”

Your breath caught, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest. His presence was overwhelming, the heat radiating off him making it impossible to think straight.

“Daeho, just—”

“Admit it,” he said, his tone softer now but no less commanding. “Admit that I get to you.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he asked, his smirk widening. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you clenched your fists, refusing to let him win. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, leaning in just enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. His voice dropped lower, his tone turning almost playful. “Tell me, sweetheart, do I make you nervous? Or is it something else?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. His gaze was too intense, his smirk too smug, and the space between you too small.

“I hate you,” you muttered finally, though the heat in your voice betrayed you.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his smirk softening into something almost dangerous. “You just hate that you can’t stop thinking about me.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, until finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re right.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something darker, something hungrier. He leaned back slightly, giving you room to breathe, but his gaze never left yours.

“Was that so hard?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, your cheeks still burning.

“And yet,” he said, his smirk returning, “you can’t seem to stay away.”

He leaned down and gave you a slight kiss on your forehead, with that he walked back to his bunk with the proudest smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes, but your pulse betrayed you, pounding loudly in your ears. As much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn’t deny the pull between you, the tension that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

And the worst part? He knew it, too.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴛ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere HOTD x Targaryen Reader Part 4

Summary: after your conversion with your father, you just wanted to be in peace. Especially since your husband name day is close.

Warning: Y/n herself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Gifs don't belong to me, credit to the owner. Hope you enjoy!

The water was warm, steaming against her pale skin as she reclined in the tub, the scent of lavender and rose oil wafting through the air. Elira’s hands worked delicately, her touch soft as she poured water over her mistress’s shoulders, letting it cascade down in rivulets. The bath chamber was silent save for the occasional splash of water and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Elira hesitated, biting her lip as she wrung out a cloth. Her nerves were apparent, her usual timidness magnified in the face of what she wanted to ask. Y/n smirked to herself, already anticipating whatever foolish question the girl was about to utter.

“My lady… may I ask something?”

Y/n opened one eye, watching her through half-lowered lids, her expression languid and amused. “You may,” she said, her tone carrying a sharp edge of mockery, as if daring the girl to test her patience.

Elira hesitated again, then quickly stammered out, “Why… why did you choose to marry Prince Aegon? He’s just a child, my lady. If—if I were in your place… and a man like Lord Jason Lannister wanted to marry me…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing red. “I would have accepted.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Then, Y/n laughed—a sharp, derisive sound that echoed off the stone walls. It was not a warm laugh but one laced with scorn. She turned her head slightly to look at Elira, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

“Of course you would,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “That’s the difference between us, Elira. You’re a peasant. A frightened little girl who would gladly sell herself for a crumb of comfort and a pat on the head from some bloated fool with a golden lion stitched to his chest.”

Elira’s head bowed, her hands trembling slightly as she dipped the cloth back into the water. Y/n continued, her tone growing sharper, each word a dagger aimed at the girl’s pride.

“But I am Y/n. I am a Targaryen, the blood of Old Valyria. I am the rider of Vermithor, the princess of dragon stone. I don’t need a man’s protection, nor his gold, nor his pathetic little affections. I don’t need anything from a husband save for two things: a pretty face to sit on and a hard cock to ride.”

Elira gasped softly, her eyes widening, but she said nothing. She knew better than to interrupt.

Y/n leaned back, stretching her arms along the edge of the tub, her smirk deepening. “But if you’re so curious about my decision, I’ll enlighten you.” She tilted her head, her voice softening into a conspiratorial tone, though the mockery remained. “I choose Aegon because he’s a child. A boy with no power to tell me what to do, no authority to make demands of me.”

She let her words sink in for a moment before continuing, her eyes gleaming with cold, calculating ambition. “And more importantly, he’s the firstborn son. He is father's heir, whether my father likes it or not. I may not have a chance at the throne, but Aegon does. And I will mold him. Raise him exactly as I wish, shape him into who I want him to be. And when that day comes, when he sits the Iron Throne…” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “I will be the true power behind him. I will be queen.”

Elira’s hands faltered, the cloth slipping from her fingers and sinking into the water. She stared at Y/n, her face pale, clearly unsettled by her mistress’s words. But Y/n only laughed again, throwing her head back, her voice ringing with cruel amusement.

“Now,” she said, her tone suddenly light and airy, “be a good girl and fetch me more hot water. This bath is growing cold.”

The woods were unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves underfoot and the distant cries of birds. Y/n walked beside Ser Criston, her irritation growing with every step. Hours had passed, and they’d yet to find anything worth hunting. So fucking annoying. She tightened her grip on the bow in her hand, the frustration threatening to bubble over.

She was about to complain when her ears picked up something—soft footsteps, the kind that didn’t belong to animals. Her gaze narrowed, her body tensing as she held up a hand to stop Criston. Then, she heard it: her sister’s voice, faint but unmistakable, carried on the wind.

Rhaenyra.

Y/n’s head snapped in the direction of the sound, her sharp violet eyes catching movement through the trees. She crept forward silently, motioning for Criston to follow. As they approached, the figures came into view: Rhaenyra, her silver hair gleaming even in the dappled light, and beside her, that hulking brute Harwin Strong. But it wasn’t the sight of them that made Y/n pause—it was the majestic white hart standing just a few feet ahead of her sister, its antlers rising like a crown from its head.

She grabbed Criston’s hand, holding him back before he could move. “Be quiet,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her lips curved into a smirk as she watched her sister. “And don’t make a sound.”

Y/n crouched low, her eyes fixed on Rhaenyra. Come on, sister. Kill it. Her heart beat faster, anticipation coiling tightly in her chest. She waited, watching for the moment when Rhaenyra would draw her weapon, when she would finally prove herself capable of something more than riding her dragon and being a spoiled cunt. Show me you have the spine.

But Rhaenyra didn’t move. The hart stood before her, regal and unafraid, and Y/n saw her sister’s hand drop to her side. And then, Rhaenyra stepped back, letting the beast go.

Y/n’s smirk twisted into a sneer, her mind filling with sharp, cutting thoughts. Of course. Of course, you don’t, you stupid cunt. What did I expect, really? She shook her head, her contempt flaring as she silently drew an arrow from her quiver. The string of her bow stretched taut as she aimed, her eyes locking on the white hart’s elegant neck.

And then she let go.

The arrow flew true, piercing the hart’s neck with a satisfying thunk. The beast reared back, stumbling as blood gushed from the wound. Rhaenyra gasped, her shock written plainly across her face, but Y/n didn’t give her a second glance.

“Finish it,” she said coldly, tossing a glance over her shoulder at Criston.

Ser Criston moved quickly, drawing his blade and putting the hart out of its misery with a single, clean stroke. Y/n rose from her crouch, her movements smooth and graceful as she strode forward, stepping into the clearing. Her boots crunched softly against the ground as she approached Rhaenyra, whose wide eyes were still fixed on the fallen hart. Harwin stood beside her, his hand resting protectively on his sword hilt, though he didn’t move to stop Y/n.

“Well, well,” Y/n said, her voice light with mockery, “what a surprise to see you here, sister.”

Rhaenyra turned to face her, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “Why did you do that?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “I let it go.”

Y/n tilted her head, her lips curving into a sweet, venomous smile. “Why? Because I needed a new cloak, of course.” Her tone was dripping with false innocence. She gestured to the hart with a casual wave of her hand. “This beautiful creature is perfect for it. Don’t you think?”

Rhaenyra stared at her, speechless, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Y/n took a step closer, her smile widening as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek, the gesture as mocking as it was intimate.

“Goodbye, dear sister,” Y/n whispered, her voice a soft purr. “Enjoy the rest of your little walk.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, her crimson cloak swirling behind her as she walked back to Criston. “Bring it,” she ordered, gesturing to the hart’s body, and he obeyed without question.

As they disappeared into the woods, Y/n glanced over her shoulder one last time, catching the stunned, angry look on Rhaenyra’s face. Her smirk returned, satisfaction blooming in her chest.

Weak, little Rhaenyra, she thought. You’ll never understand. But don’t worry, sister—I’ll show you.

The ride back was slow, her mood as sour as the metallic scent of blood wafting from the stag’s severed head strapped to the back of her horse. The triumph of the kill had already faded, leaving her simmering irritation in its place. Criston walked beside her, one hand steady on the reins of her horse, his ever-watchful gaze scanning the path ahead. She barely acknowledged him, her thoughts consumed by the tedious pomp awaiting her return.

As they entered the camp, banners flapped in the wind, servants bustling about like ants beneath the royal pavilion. Y/n slid off the horse with practiced ease, her boots hitting the ground with a soft thud. “Take care of the stag’s body,” she ordered Criston sharply, tossing him a brief glance. “The head stays with me.”

Criston bowed slightly, his armor clinking. “As you command, princess.”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. Her sharp eyes scanned the camp until they landed on her brother, cradled in Alicent’s arms near the pavilion. Without a word of greeting, she strode toward them, her crimson cloak billowing behind her. Alicent looked up, startled, but before she could protest, Y/n reached out and plucked Aegon from her arms.

“Y/n,” Alicent began, her tone edged with concern, “he’s just—”

“I know,” Y/n cut her off, dismissing her with a glare. “Don’t fuss.”

Aegon, his little head still bandaged, squirmed briefly in her grasp before recognizing her. His tiny arms flung around her neck, hugging her tightly. “Si-ster!” he exclaimed, his small voice brimming with excitement.

Her irritation softened for a fleeting moment as she kissed his forehead, her lips brushing against the white cloth wrapped around his head. “There you are, my little husband,” she murmured, a rare tenderness in her voice.

But the moment didn’t last. She turned, gesturing for Criston to bring the stag’s head forward. The grotesque trophy swung slightly as it was presented, blood still dripping onto the dirt below. She held Aegon up slightly so he could see, her voice lilting with mock enthusiasm.

“Look,” Y/n said, holding him slightly away from her so he could see better. “This is yours. The white hart of the Kingswood, a beast worthy of a prince.”

But instead of the reaction she anticipated—delight, awe, perhaps even pride—Aegon’s lip began to quiver. His bright eyes welled with tears, and before Y/n could react, he burst into loud, pitiful sobs, his tiny body shaking in her arms.

Y/n froze, staring down at him in disbelief. “What… What is this?” she muttered, her irritation flaring. “Why are you crying? It’s a gift, you foolish boy.” She bounced him slightly, trying to quiet him, but it only made his wails louder.

Alicent rose from her seat, her expression a mixture of concern and anger. “He’s just a child,” she said, extending her arms. “He doesn’t understand.”

“Clearly, he doesn’t,” Y/n snapped, her patience wearing thin. She thrust Aegon back into Alicent’s arms, ignoring the boy’s desperate grip as he clung to her for a moment before being transferred. “Take him. If he can’t appreciate what I’ve done for him, then let him go back to you.”

Alicent cradled the sobbing boy, soothing him with soft words and gentle strokes of her hand. Y/n turned away, brushing her hands down her cloak as if to rid herself of the inconvenience. She cast one last glance at the stag’s head, her jaw tightening.

Ungrateful brat.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[clawsdevour]

welcome home

wc: 2.3k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, kageyama x reader, smut, hc that kags likes tits, fingering, creampie, not proofread

. ᝰ˚ ༘

Home alone in the kitchen making yourself a small midnight snack. The ambient lighting is more silent than the echoing noises of your shuffling. Washing your hands after a quick bite of your meal, you pause for a second.

Was that a creaking sound? 

Staring in the direction it came from, the front door of your house. Followed by the sound of keys jingling as you watched the doorknob twist and turn open. Upon entrance, you see your husband Kageyama Tobio back home from his business trip due to his volleyball career.

His head lifting up from his suitcase, his cold beady gaze softens when he sees that you’re still up.

“Tobio.. Welcome home!” dropping the cloth you dried your hands with, running over to him with open arms. 

Catching you in his warm embrace, his muscular arms tightly squeezing around you to make up for his lack of presence throughout the time he was away. He wasn’t just excited, something down there was too. 

“W-Wait..” the friction as you swayed around in his arms building up his already pent up erection, coming to a sudden halt. 

You didn’t realize until you saw his eyes move lower to look at the hard to miss tent sticking up from his crotch. Averting his eyes to look behind you a bit humiliated that that was his first reaction to coming back home. His stern face starts to heat up, you can’t help but giggle under your breath.

“Bring in the suitcase and take a nice hot shower, love. We’ll get to that later..” using your thumb at his chin, changing the direction of his head to look down at you. Planting an affectionate kiss on his cold but soft lips before heading back to your midnight snacking.

Doing as you said, Kageyama brought in the suitcase to the bedroom to unpack before starting a shower that dissolved all his worries now that you’re under the same roof as him. 

You’re laying under the fluffy covers, waiting for him to walk out as you continue to binge watch a show you watched with him before he left home for work.

The moment he opens the door, the light hitting just right at him, slightly showing you slivers of his toned and rippling body that seemed to get hotter every time you saw it. 

The towel on his waist hung low.. too low to the point it made your mouth part open with a bit of drool about to start dripping down your chin. 

The steamy atmosphere slowly disintegrated from the bathroom into the bedroom air, the particles disappearing in the light. His dark black hair was absolutely drenched and dripping with water while he hand dried it with a separate towel.

It’s been so long, you never get to see him like this anymore. Rubbing your legs under the covers as you started to feel aroused, hoping it’d relieve something. Kageyama’s headed towards you, looking at the TV with the colorful lights reflecting on his freshly damp skin.

“Is this a new episode? Have you been watching it without me?” peering at you from behind. His stern dark blue eyes pierced into you, a subtle smile plastered on his face.

“Mhm.. you took too long to get back home I couldn’t wait anymore,” pouting playfully at him, chuckling as he sat on the end of the bed.

Feeling a sensation on your lower legs through the blanket, looking up you see a hand rubbing them up and down while his eyes are fixated on the screen. 

“Ha. I see how it is,” he blatantly said.

Kicking off the covers, you crawled near to him. Well, more like closer to his broad and toned back and started to softly massaging them. His tender muscular skin in between your fingers that worked like magic, relieving any of his soreness.

“Does this hit the spot?” whispering seductively in his ear through a smirk. His head gradually leaned back in delight, egging you on to go deeper into his tissue.

“Yeah.. it does. Can you go a bit higher?” cooing under his breath as his lashes flutter to a close. 

“Right here?” planting a gentle peck on the crook of his neck. 

“Oh you wanna do this right now?” taking the damp towel off his hair whilst averting his full attention to you in the back. His dark eyes reeked of sin and need that intoxicated the eye contact between you two. 

“Yeah—” cutting you off right as his lips raced towards yours. 

Crashing multiple times before he’s able to slide his tongue into your mouth. Exploring each and every crevice of your being. 

Kageyama’s leading and dominating kiss makes you back up onto the mattress as his stature completely towers upon you, towel somehow still clinging onto his waist as it brushes onto you. 

A warm large palm slithering its way up your dainty tank top as he continued breathlessly making out with your lips. You’re whimpering into the kiss as you start to lose breath. 

Detaching his plump lips from yours, making his way down to nip at the contours of your jaw and neck. His stare still lingering on your skin, watching each and every reaction. 

The water droplets from his wet hair catches onto your hot complexion as Kageyama places down a kiss on every possible area of your skin, almost drowning you in his affection as you straddle his broad bare shoulders to keep yourself afloat.

His fingers caressing your tender breast, pinching and flicking your little nubs as you squirmed in delight. The towel began to release from its grip, his erection hitting the surface of your thigh. 

Breaking away from your fast paced kiss that made you see stars, Kageyama throws your tank top off, leaving it somewhere on the floor. Nipping at your neck, creating red and bright pink marks moving down to your perky nipples. 

Kissing them gently before latching his hot mouth onto you. His warm damp air brushed onto your skin as his heart raced and pounded like crazy. The foreign sensation makes your head all foggy while his tongue continues to play and tease at your delicate little nub.

You didn’t realize when he began reaching his other hand lower, down towards the hem of your thin shorts. His two digits gently pressing on your crotch, finding your slit admist the fabric that concealed it.

“Tobio..” whining to catch his attention.

Kageyama’s dark blue gaze averts to your flushed complexion, instantly going back head level with you just a few inches away from yours.

“Yes, love?” slender long fingers tucking strands of hair behind your ears, his pupils darting everywhere as he inspected your expression.

“Oh, well.. just miss you a lot” pulling him in for a snug hug once more, just half naked this time. Feeling him in nothing made it feel more intimate. 

That was until you felt a hand slide down into your shorts, burning a smoldering heat as it pressed against your panties just right where it was damp. 

“Me too,” he purred. 

Putting space between you two for a brief moment, Kageyama helps you out of your shorts and underwear to keep up the pace as you two exchange more eye contact that begged for physical affection.

“..So wet?” running a hand up your slit, collecting your essence at the tip of his finger.

Biting down on your lower lip as you watched the tent that was just barely covered by his fluffy towel grow in size. Continuing with your antics, Kageyama lowers himself down onto you. His touch rubbing slow and small circles on your wet clit.

The sound of your juices melted with the audios of your sloppy passionate kiss as you whimpered with pleasure. A prodding at the entrance of your cunt, his middle finger slips in. 

Welcoming his digit with a warm clench, you just slightly take a moment to breathe in that fresh air. However, Kageyama’s lips don’t stop moving with all the free reign he has over your nudr and vulnerable body.

His plump lips move everywhere, kissing every crevice he may have missed from earlier. Adding in another finger, pumping them in and out of your sopping cunt at a steady and bearable rhythm. When Kageyama started scissoring, and curling his fingers inside you, was what made you start gripping onto his shoulders for dear life trying to receive him, nails starting to create crescent marks in his tender muscles as if imprinting your marks on him.

“S-So good..” you sobbed in his ear amongst the squelching and heated atmosphere that caught onto your skin. 

The pace of his plunging fingers increase to fulfill your orgasm, going knuckle deep. It felt like heaps of liquid dripped and pooled in the depths of your nether regions, inching you and edging you on. 

“Fuck ..Tobio ugh!!” The more he jammed his slender but thick fingers inside out, the more your nails clawed into him to stabilize your trembling body. 

Panting out all the air in your lungs the moment you creamed all over his digits. Watching as he slid them out to taste your orgasm on his tongue as a way to clean them off.

“You okay?” using his hand to caress your cheek, pressing a delicate kiss on your forehead. 

“Yeah, just put it inn.. I miss you being inside me” you whimper to him with your half lidded eyes, playing with his wet locs of hair that drew towards you from above.

“M’kay, don’t whine if you can’t handle it.”

Lining himself up at your entrance, slithering through your drenched folds beforehand to collect your fluids on his girth. Kageyama’s warm and relaxed strokes drawing your patience thin.

Reaching a hand down to guide his hands to your entrance with a look of passion written all over your face. His tip enters your aching cunt as you squirm in discomfort, the more he inched the more it felt like as if he’s splitting you open in two. 

“Does it hurt? Come here,” nodding while you got into his lap, tears starting to form in your eyes the more you tried to blink them away. 

Kageyama’s big arms hugged you tight as your walls gradually slid down and gripped onto his cock. Your walls expand to take his shape, keeping his dick warm and compact, almost like he’s about to explode inside, while he rewards you with small affectionate pecks till you feel better. 

“Sorry.. I guess it’s been a while,” he heard between sniffles. 

His subtle smile as he glances down at your glossy eyes makes you know that you have all the time in the world whenever you’re with him. 

“It’s okay. Don’t rush it if it hurts babe.”

Once you’ve situated his length nested inside your tight cunt, you’ve begun just to slowly grind your hips with his. However, not fully adjusted. Groaning in pain, continuing to have your walls mold to his cock while his hands linger around your bare waist inching lower to your ass. 

Making the first move, you slowly rose and dropped yourself onto him. The pleasure started to wash over the pain when you realized he’s starting to hit your deeper and stimulating areas that couldn’t be reached earlier in this position. 

His hands grasp onto your hips to support you as you continue to go at your own leisurely pace to get used to his dick once more. His husky moans suppressed under his breath, cursing to himself in the process as he loses himself in your addictive sensation. 

“You’re doing good, love” bringing a hand to the front to rub your swollen clit as you mumble out sweet, almost melodic moans that rang in his ears.

Calling out his name in between sobs of joy, he can’t take it anymore. Kageyama just wants to fuck you till your out cold and quivering from pleasure. 

Thrusting with all his might and stopping you in your tracks. Your body quaked as he reached further and into your nether regions, stimulating your g-spot multiple times. 

He’s cunningly snickering under his breath watching you become a moaning mess on top of him. Your breasts that dangled and bounced in front of him with each pounding were too tempting to not tease and suck on. 

The foreign sensation making its way back onto your body, licking you up and down making your chest feel weird in a content way. Sucking onto your perky plump nipple, Kageyama’s tongue wrapping around the nub with intent to overstimulate you with satisfaction. 

“Wait, Love. Might, cum–”

Crying out one last moan of joy while he continues to penetrate deep into your incoming orgasm at intensive and quick speed, your vision turns white when you feel a spurt of warm liquid ooze into your swollen red cunt. His stuttering words coming to an end when all you could hear is his gasps.

Clenching your plush walls around Kageyama, a rim of white froth built up on the base of his cock when he lifts you up by ur ass. Grasping all his cum mixed with your wet juices and orgasm that started to trickle out of your pussy. 

Panting as your exhausted sweaty body drifts down catching onto his muscular but tender chest that heaved up and down to catch his breath. His hands are giving you the tightest of tight hugs despite both of you being covered in a sheen layer of sweat and a mix of your essences. 

“Would’ve gone easier on you if I hadn’t been away for so long.”

masterlist here

[softenerwaale]

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[trianglesolution]

We never doubt the purity of water in our homes because there is no stench or hardness; we assume it is pure. Have you ever given it a second thought? Is that really true? How can you be sure that the water at home is totally safe? Have you ever conducted a water test? These days water treatment plant for home is a necessity.

[screampied]

Hello my love🩵 I know you’ve had a similar request to this before but I just love the way you write him so can we get soft dom choso who an obnoxiously big dick😵‍💫 like reader is trying to act like she can take it but he just knows she can’t so he just stays buried inside them and rubs their clit until she cums and is finally comfortable enough for him to move

trying to take big dick choso ★

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom choso, size kink, praise, whiny choso, cowgirl.

“just lie back baby,” you whisper against the shuck of his ear, gawking lovingly as his pretty long lashes flutter from your words alone. choso’s heart flutters dramatically by default, you’re hovering over his leaky tip and he can’t help but exhale out a low sigh of what’s to come. he’s all pent up and frazzled—he’s had a long day with dealing with irksome enemies and you told him you’d help relieve some of his stress. “wanna ride you.”

“o- okay,” he swallows, gently bringing his perspiring-coated hands towards your waist. choso’s touch was always so delicate, he stares at you all doe-eyed like and tries hard to suppress his moans once you finally hover over his top. you inhale, glancing down at his wide, mushroom tip that was leaking with various amounts of viscous candied pre. “you’re so pretty.”

his words of affection only make you pulse more between your thighs as you prepare to take him. inch by inch, once his tip bedaubs near your soddened entrance in such a sloppy fashion, you whine. choso’s overwhelmed with how pretty you look like this — in such a position, straddling him. he bites his lip as you’re barreling his length. with a brief jerk forward, he’s slowly easing his way into your folds before your jaw gradually swings itself open it utter surprise. then it hits you,

he’s fucking big.

almost right away, you feel the thick impact of choso’s stupendous girth,

you’re barely even moving but you’re still trying to take him fully. he hears the sudden change of patterns from your breath — they’re all trembly and erratic. with a cute look of worry, he nips a few kisses near your collarbone. “baby,” he whimpers, albeit it’s in the more form of a question. the softness of his fingertips brush against your skin as he feels you struggle to take him. “h-how is it? ‘s it okay? should i hold your hips?”

“i’m okay, ‘cho,” you huff out, almost positive at this rate you were gonna cum. you look down, feeling the pressure inside of you weaken only to then arise. as you grind your hips forward, you bite your lip with your head slightly throwing itself back. “f-fuuuck,” you’d croak out, slumping your limp arms around his broad shoulders. choso awkwardly holds onto you tightly, moaning himself from the way your gummy walls try to swallow him whole. “y- yeah, jus’ hold me okay? just like that, baby.”

“so warm inside,” he purrs, a sheepish smile tugging against his lips as he slouches back. you had him whipped—he needed you in such a carnal way that the tips of his ears burn a feverish hot. he’s feeling all of you all at once, your insides mashing against his, it was pure bliss. so warm, your gloopy walls itself were seductive—loose and clamping down on him, wringing against him voluntarily. “you can take it baby, s-so good, fuckkk.”

you could barely bare around him, the plump head of his cock continues to squeeze around you before you stay still, dragging your hands toward between your thighs.

choso watches with hazy eyes, your own fingers ghosting against your clit. “is it okay if i touch myself, choso?”

“you don’t have to ask,” he whines, his eyes softening as he presses a wet kiss against your chin. for a few seconds, you rub your fingers against your clit before he’s fully in. you moan, feeling his cock just sit still inside of you. choso swallows the lump residing in his throat before he holds onto your right hip with one hand. “even if you’re not riding me, you still look so b-beautiful.”

it makes his mouth water, you’re squeezing around him so tight, his breath is coming out in short pants as he’s just stuffing you full of his inches. choso’s big, you and him both knew that.

the raw stretch makes your mouth open ajar, you try to shift your hips forward but he’s just so big.

choso’s swollen sack sticks against your skin like glue. the lower undersides of his thighs burn, a scorching temperature of heat whilst you sit on him before he lies back. ripped abs of his curl and clench underneath his white tee as he suddenly starts to feel his own head theon back. with a low sigh, choso covers a hand over his face that was starting to brighten a cute tint of embarrassment.

“f- fuuuck,” and with that, you collapse right into your boyfriend. he catches you, soft inky pupils of his take in your beauty as you’re stuffed full of him. his cock remains still as a statue before you whimper once you feel his own fingers brush against your clit. “k- keep doin’ that baby, please. ‘m gonna cum.”

“i love your voice so m- much,” choso whines, feeling himself get sensitive himself from the hot warmth your clingy walls provide. it’s barely any friction happening but still — with his size, you’re basically getting fucked stupid. just without the delicious movement to back it up. choso starts to nibble on your neck, continuing to rub against your sweet drooling cunt. “praise me some more, please, t- talk to me, wanna make you cum.”

his voice— it was also sweet and shaky, you lift your head up to give him a quick kiss before moaning, “you make me feel so good, baby. keep rubbing me there, o- okay? jus’ like that,” and you press a kiss against the left temple of his cheek.

choso’s heart was about to explode— he was so in love, figuratively melting with his twitching shaft exploring your love cave.

“mmhn, cum for me. ‘s okay, make a mess so i can clean you right up princess.” he mutters back, hearing a familiar ring screech through his ears.

the pressure continues to alleviate, your entire body feels misty, everything’s a blur.

as choso’s thick fingers consistently strum against your sopping cunt, he’s still buried into your tightening walls before you finally let go. it’s as if everything’s going in slow motion.

your lips part and you gasp—a devoted, obscene orgasm finally rips out of your throat before your thighs shake over him.

skin to skin, body to body, he feels like you’re just stuck against him like a leech—clinging onto him like velcro, never ever letting go. that was perfect for choso because he didn’t want you to ever go anyway. you’re so pretty once you release though, eyelashes compressing together, jaw hung open, brows furrowing into a disbelieving curve—oh, you were in heaven.

despite how you weren’t able to ride him how you originally wanted— you were still a bit saddened by it, embarrassed.

choso notices the cute pout forming against your spit soaked lips before he cups your face. heaving heavily, he leans in to kiss your nose, a humming “mwah,” comes from him and your rapidly beating heart suddenly swoons. “i love you.”

“i- i love you too,” you puff out a single breath of fresh air, still feeling your thighs quaver from your recent teeth-shattering climax. as his dick was still tucked inside of your gripping walls, you mimic his gesture, kissing the tip of his nose. “you’re such a good boy ‘cho, did so good.”

“heh, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep praising me like that, baby.” he tries to joke— yet once he feels you shift your hips a little to move, he’s suddenly hard again. “o-oh fuck.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Mʏ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Bɪʀᴅ || 𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: I've become obsessed with him

"Little bird! Hold up...you do not know which creatures could be lurking about." Elrond shouted trailing behind you.

"How will I be able to protect you when you are unable to stay in one place for more than two seconds!" He shouted glancing at the wet stones as you seemed to be gliding across.

An airy laugh escaped your lips as you paused on one of the rocks, your fingers clutching your dress as you tilted your head to the side. "Oh yes! Protect me dear Eldron....from the ankle deep water." You teased continuing on your way.

Elrond huffed, following you on the stones, his light and careful footsteps making sure not to even get his boots wet

"I will not be mocked" His voice as he carefully maneuvered across the rocks. "The water can be hiding dangerous things and not to mention it's easy to trip....I do not wish for you to injure yourself."

Letting out a hum, you continued to hop from rock to rock until you finally reached the spot of land dropping your dress into the dirt.

"And pray tell me what dangerous things could be hiding in the waters?" You teased.

Finally managing to cross and step down on the land, he made his way towards you not even thinking about the question.

"well there could be fish" he paused "or a very angry otter maybe, or the most dangerous of all: frogs, you clearly can't take on a frog on your own"

Throwing your head back for a laugh you stepped close to the man placing your hand on his chest with a grin forming on your face."Oh yes! My dear Elrond! Please protect me from the vicious frog. He may hop at me!"

Elrond chuckled, his chest moving under your hand as he gently wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Do not under estimate the frog, their looks are deceiving"

The elf warned playfully before his arm pulled you even closer, your chest gently colliding with his chest.

Gaze softening, you let your lips brush across his cheek. "You're adorable."

"and you're reckless" he said, his tone more serious, as he felt your lips against his cheek and his breath hitched and his cheeks began to flush a very soft shade of pink, but a pink shade none the less, despite being centuries old he still wasn't used to the affect you had on him.

Letting your fingers clutch his robe, a giggle left your lips.

'Cute' you couldn't help but think.

"Since I am so reckless...I bet you can't catch me." With a wink you gave him a playful shove then took off running through the forest.

Elrond could help but just stare for a split second, a little speechless, his cheeks a soft pink as he watched you run off before he snapped out of it the thoughts racing through his mind.

"oh that just isn't fair!"

He shouted as he started to run after you, managing to keep up with you despite you having a head start off of your earlier push and shoving, the elf was determined to catch you.

Your laugh echoed throughout the forest, feet barely touching the ground as you ran, your hair flowing behind you intending on taking him to one of your favorite spots.

The elven lord could only manage to curse under his breath,as he found it hard to catch up to you, the elf was fast and agile but his robes were slowing him down quite a bit, the only thing he was thankful for was the fact the forest was mainly open, so he wasn't having to duck under low branches and weave in-between trees to get to you.

Rushing through the fields, you slowed to a stop nearing the edge of a cliff that over looked a lake. Chest heaving as you glanced over your shoulder flashing him a grin.

"Fancy a swim?"

Holding your hand out for him, you tiled your head to the side.

It took a moment or two for the poor elf to finally catch up to you, his own chest heaving and breath heavy in an attempt to properly breathe, a hand on a tree supporting his weight.

"you...You are a menace" Elrond wheezed between breaths, before looking up at you then down towards the lake below as he grasped your hand softly.

"But you love it." You whispered, your eyes mischievous as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

A deep chuckle escaped his chest as he gently squeezed your hand. "Anything for you, my little bird."

Smile brimming with happiness, you tugged him forward leaping off the edge of the cliff still holding his hand into the water bellow.

A shout leaving his lips, a laugh leaving yours.

He would do anything for you, for his little bird.

[cosmopretty]

Jealousy Jealousy

Nika Mühl x Fem smut

Synopsis: You and Nika have been hooking up in private without letting any of your friends know. You’ve been away for the past two weeks modeling in Paris and just got back.

——————————————————————

Walking down the street your beautiful hair flowing down your back, you spot your friends waiting for you. You smile and run up to them KK running towards you as you meet her in the middle hugging her, her arms warp around you “Hey miss girl we missed you” she says before letting go of the hug and dragging you to the group.

You greet the rest of the girls and Nika hugs you tightly before letting go and holding your shoulders her eyes softening at the sight of you “I missed you” she whispers low enough for only you to hear. You smile slightly “I missed you too” you admit before looking away your attention going elsewhere.

Paige looks you up and down and wraps her arm around your shoulders “You look good girl. How did Paris treat you?” she asks you subtly staring you down. Not that you would notice, you didn’t really notice when people were into you, but Nika did.

“Paris was great the people were so sweet they all had little French accents I loved it plus the designer loved me he wants me back to model for him some more probably in New York” You tell them all looking up at Paige, not noticing the scowl on Nika’s face at the sight of Paige all over you. The blonde smiles down at you before turning her head smirking at Nika, purposefully trying to get the girl jealous.

Walking back to the girls apartment you tell them all about Paris and what you did there, answering all there questions. You walk inside, Paige holding the door open for you “Thanks P” you smile at the girl Nika rolling her eyes behind the both of you.

To say that Nika was mad was an understatement, she didn’t see you for two weeks and you barely have spoken to her, Paige taking up all of your attention. She hated the way Paige would touch you, look at you, she didn’t even want Paige to breathe near you. Nika wasn’t really a jealous person but with you away she realized how much she really liked you, more than just sexually.

Getting up from the couch, while the rest of team argues over what movie they want to watch you go into the kitchen to grab some water.

Paige slaps Nika’s shoulder “If you don’t go after her I am” the blonde says licking her lips doing her rizz hands. Paige knew Nika liked you and had a whole plan to make her jealous so she would finally admit her feelings to you. The Croatian girl shoves her “Stop flirting with her you know she’s mine Paige” Nika’s says sternly before getting up and leaving the living room to look for you.

She finds you in the kitchen pouting yourself a glass of water, you look up at her and smile “Hey Nika” you whisper as she walks up to you. She didn’t look happy at all, she was mad not at you but at herself and her feelings. She walks towards you causing you to walk back until your back hits the counter, you grab the counter with your hands “Nika what are you doing?” you ask her confused looking back and forth from her face to the girls in the living room.

Her big hand comes to cup your cheek bringing your face up to look at her “I missed you bebo” she admits biting the inside of her cheek. You both can still hear KK and Ice arguing over what movie to watch in the background, Nika turns her head to look at them before grabbing your hand and dragging you to her room without a word.

She shoves you back by your hips and locks the door behind her, you look around her room then back at her “What do you want Nika?” you ask her sitting on her bed while she stands at the door. She shrugs and walks up to you before grabbing you by the face with both her hands and kissing you hard. Nika pushes you back on her bed and crawls on top of you not breaking the kiss, you moan into the kiss as she pulls away from your lips, she bites your bottom lip holding it between her teeth before letting go.

You look up at her a feeling of relief washing over you “Fuck Nika I need you so bad I missed you so much” you whine rubbing your legs together trying to release the tension building up in your stomach.

“Yeah baby how much did you miss me want you to prove it to me” she demands grabbing you by the hips and flipping you both over so your straddling her waist.

You immediately go down to kissing her neck wanting to show the girl how much you missed her while you were away. Leaving soft wet kissing down her neck your hands grab the bottom of her shirt and lift it off her head throwing it across her room. You look at her abs biting your lips as your hands run over them, feeling every bump. Nika coughs “You like them baby?” she asks a suspicious smile on her face.

Of course you like her abs I mean she was the most beautiful girl in your eyes “Yeah Nika so pretty” you respond to her not looking up from her stomach. Her hand moves it easy up your body from your waist lying on your cheek softly, before making your head tilt up to look at her.

Nika looks at you through her lashes and a thought pops in her head “Why don’t you ride them baby” she asks looking at your thighs that lay across her comfortably. Neither of you have done something like that before and before you can respond Nika puts her hands on both your thighs “Come on bebo make yourself feel good” she says softly rubbing your thighs.

You nod and strip your shirt off and throw it before lifting your legs and getting off of Nika, you take your pants off with your panties and stand infront of her naked. She rubs her jaw looking at you not believing your real “Fuck your so beautiful” she says before reaching over and pulling you back on top of her. Nika lays on her back her head propped up on the pillows as you straddle her waist once again. Both of her hands grab your hips and pull you down on her abs. You moan softly as your clit rubs across them sending shocks through your body.

You start grinding across her abs your head falling back, as your back arches. Nika smirks and starts flexing, adding more pressure to your clit. You moan turning your head down to look at her as one of her hands comes to start rubbing your clit. Your stomach tightens feeling your body start to get hot, you lungs tighten as your start breathing faster “Nika I’m close” you tell her moving your hips fast against her abs and hand.

The girl under you nods and starts moving your hips faster with one hand while the other continues to rub circles on your clit “Come for me bebo” she says looking up at you. You moan and release all over her stomach, your hips snap back and forth a few times in after shocks while Nika slows down rubbing on your clit.

Nika smiles at you before lifting you off of her stomach and laying you down next to her on her bed. Your body faces hers and she pulls you in for a kiss, you kiss back your hand coming to the back of her head before you pull away for air.

“You’re so beautiful and I know I tell you that all the time” she tells you once more her accent prominent. You blush looking down at the pillows before back up at her “Thank you baby” you say to her licking your lips.

Both of you lay on her bed for a moment in quiet no words needed to be said between you both. Nika breaks the silence “I really like you and I want more than just sex” she admits looking away from you and to the door of her bedroom.

Smiling you grab her face to make her look at you “I like you too Nika” you say before climbing on top of her and kissing her once more.

You jump down from her and grab her shirt sliding it over your body “I’m going to take you out tomorrow after practice” you state going into the bathroom grabbing a towel wetting it and walking back over to the girl. You wipe down her stomach before pushing down and kissing her, she kisses back her tongue sliding in your mouth as you both fight for dominance. You pull away smiling and grab a shirt for her to wear from her closet.

She grabs the shirt from your hands and raises her brows at you “Yeah okay what time baby?” Nika asks you putting the shirt on while watching you put your clothes back on.

Thinking for a moment you shrug “Around seven ish be hungry” you say grabbing her hand helping her off of the bed. She grabs your hand nodding and she unlocks the door and you both walk back into the living room to see all the girls sitting in silence.

You furrow your brows “What’s wrong? Who died?” you ask jokingly. KK shakes her head “My innocence died today” she says digging her head into Paige’s shoulder. Nika busts out laughing “Oh shit yall heard us?” she asks while you groan feeling embarrassed.

“Yes we heard guess we don’t need to find a movie to watch you both already have us entertainment” Paige says rubbing KK’s back. You shake your head no and walk out of the living room “IM DONE” you yell walking back into Nika’s room while everyone laughs at you both.

[joelsrose]

Drunk Confessions

No warning just tension, angst, and fluff xx enjoyyyyy Side note: I think my kink is men taking care of me xx READER is early 20s Joel is hot dilf age - ALSO I lowkey did not proof read this soooo

Summary: Joel is seeing someone and you’re jealous, you get a lil drunk and feelings are revealed ..

You’d known for a while that there was something between you and Joel Miller—something unspoken but undeniable. He was Sarah’s dad, your best friend’s father, and that should have been enough to keep any feelings at bay. But it wasn’t. It was there in the way he looked at you—deeply, knowingly, tenderly. How his voice softened when he asked about your day, like he wanted to hear every little detail. And in those fleeting moments when your hands brushed, his touch lingering just a bit longer than it should have.

It wasn’t anything you could put into words, nothing either of you had ever dared to speak aloud, but it was real. You both felt it. It simmered beneath the surface, bubbling up in those quiet moments when no one else was looking.

Like the time Sarah teased you about a boy at the kitchen table, laughing about some guy from your class who’d been texting you. You’d tried to laugh it off, but the whole time, you felt Joel’s eyes on you. When you glanced over, his brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The look he gave you wasn’t exactly angry, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Sarah hadn’t noticed—she was too caught up in her teasing—but you had. The way Joel’s eyes darkened, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly—it said more than words ever could.

Or the time you’d come by in the pool, just casually hanging out on a summer afternoon. You’d felt Joel’s gaze on you the moment you stepped out of the water, your skin glistening in the sun. His eyes had lingered, unable to tear away, and for a moment, you’d felt the heat of his attention as clearly as the sun on your back. He’d quickly averted his gaze when Sarah splashed him, but you saw the way he looked at you from the corner of his eye, the way he shifted in his chair, trying—and failing—not to be obvious.

Then there were the movie nights. The three of you would settle onto the couch, a cozy tradition that never felt quite innocent when Joel sat beside you. His shoulder would press against yours, his knee brushing yours, the heat of his body radiating through the small space between you. Sarah would always be sprawled on the other end of the couch, completely absorbed in the movie, but you?

You couldn’t focus. Not when Joel was so close, his presence overwhelming, consuming every ounce of your attention.

And then there were those moments—when Joel would lean in, his breath warm against your ear, whispering something about the movie, but neither of you were really watching. His voice would send shivers down your spine, and you knew it wasn’t the words that mattered.

It was just an excuse.

An excuse to be close, to share something quiet and intimate that no one else could see.

Every time he whispered, you’d nod or laugh softly, even though your heart was pounding too hard to really process what he was saying. The nearness of him, the way his arm would brush against yours, or how his leg seemed to press just a little closer—it was all a silent conversation between the two of you. You both knew.

You weren’t really watching the movie at all.

That’s why it hit you so hard when Sarah casually mentioned over lunch that Joel was seeing someone.

•••

It had been a normal afternoon. You and Sarah were tucked away in your usual spot at the café, sipping iced lattes and catching up on the week. The conversation was light, filled with laughter, until Sarah said something that made the ground shift beneath you.

“Hey, did you want to order takeout tonight? Dad’s not home, so we’ll need to figure something out for dinner,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

Your heart sank slightly at the mention of Joel, though you tried to play it off. “Oh... sure. Where’s he going?” you asked, aiming for casual.

Joel wasn’t the kind of man who liked to go out much. His routine was simple—come home, shower, have dinner, maybe watch some TV, and then call it a night.

Sarah didn’t even look up from her phone as she answered.

“Well, he’s been seeing someone, so I think they’re going out to dinner tonight.”

Her words knocked the air right out of your lungs. You froze, your coffee halfway to your lips, suddenly unable to breathe.

You and Joel had never defined what was happening between you, but you had felt it—knew it was there. And the idea of him seeing someone else had never even crossed your mind.

You felt nauseous, a sharp wave of jealousy twisting in your stomach, making it hard to think straight.

You blinked, the words not quite sinking in. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Sarah continued, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “I think one of his buddies introduced them. She seems nice.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “Your dad… is seeing someone?”

Sarah shrugged, still scrolling through her phone, as though she were talking about the most casual thing in the world. “Yeah, I guess? They’ve only gone out once or twice, but he mentioned her again last night, so I think they’re still talking.”

Your chest tightened, a sharp pang of jealousy slicing through you. Joel, seeing someone? You couldn’t even process the thought.

It felt silly—he was at least 15 years older than you, your best friend’s dad. Did you really think something could happen between you?

The truth was... yes. You had.

What you felt with Joel didn’t compare to anything you’d felt with past flings or boyfriends. The connection between you was deeper. It wasn’t just lust—it was something you couldn’t quite explain, something that made your pulse quicken every time he was near.

And yet, here you were, hearing that he was spending time with another woman. A woman. Someone his age. Someone who had her life together, who had a career and a future. Someone he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with. The thought gnawed at you, an uncomfortable truth you couldn’t shake. Of course, she made sense. You were... what? A girl with messy emotions, clinging to a connection that maybe you had just imagined?

You nodded, forcing a tight smile, your voice barely steady. “Well... that’s good. He deserves someone nice.”

“Totally,” Sarah said, barely paying attention now. “He hasn’t been this happy in a while, you know?”

That word—happy—hit you like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was nod, your thoughts spiraling as jealousy churned through you. You ached at the idea of Joel being unhappy, of him coming home to an empty house, no one to share the intimate moments of his life with. You’d seen it in him, the loneliness he never spoke about. And part of you had wished—hoped—that maybe you could be the one to fill that space, even if you never said it out loud.

But now... now someone else had stepped in, and all you could do was sit there, trying not to fall apart.

•••

When you got home, you couldn’t stop thinking about what Sarah had said. It played on a loop in your mind, refusing to fade, no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Hours had passed since you left Sarah’s, but you hadn’t been yourself. Sarah had noticed—you could tell by the way she’d looked at you, concerned, asking if you were alright. You’d brushed it off, made some excuse about being tired, but the truth was, your mind was trapped on a single, unbearable thought: Joel with someone else.

Joel was seeing someone.

You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the room dark and silent around you, but your thoughts were anything but calm. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind betrayed you, spinning images you didn’t want to see - The thought of Joel holding her, of his lips on hers, of him kissing her neck in that way you could only imagine... your chest tightened painfully, your breath catching as nausea bubbled up inside you.

What if he brought her home? What if he took her to his room? What if, right now, as you lay here, they were together, his hands tracing her body the way you wished he would touch you?

You tossed restlessly under the covers, trying to will the thoughts away.

It was ridiculous.

You felt ridiculous, like a naïve girl who had been foolish enough to think a grown man could ever see you as anything more than his daughter’s friend. You shouldn’t feel like this—jealous, aching over something that was never yours to begin with. But the jealousy burned through you, sharp and bitter, twisting in your chest and leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Every thud of your heart reminded you just how deeply this hurt, how much you had let yourself believe in something that was never real.

Joel wasn’t yours. You had no right to feel this way, but the ache in your chest was undeniable.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, hot and unwelcome. You hated this.

•••

The next evening, you found yourself back at Sarah’s house, but everything felt different this time. There was a strange weight in the air, something unspoken lingering between you and your own thoughts.

You and Sarah had plans to hit a new club with a few friends—a night out that was supposed to be fun, carefree. You told yourself you were excited, eager even, to drown your thoughts in music, drinks, and the chaotic blur of a crowded dance floor. You just wanted to get Joel out of your head, to lose yourself in the noise and forget the ache that had been gnawing at you since the day before.

As you stepped through the front door, the low hum of the TV filled the air, barely audible over the soft clink of ice in a glass. Joel was there, relaxed in his usual spot, sipping something dark—whiskey, by the looks of it. The sight of him hit you like a wave, your chest tightening with that all-too-familiar ache. He looked impossibly good, the dim light casting shadows that highlighted the rough edges of his face. You forced yourself to stay composed, to hide the way he made your pulse race every time you saw him. But it wasn’t easy—it never was with Joel.

Joel glanced up as you entered, his dark eyes immediately finding yours, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a slow, familiar smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice a low rumble, smooth and warm like the whiskey in his glass. There was something about the way he said it—so effortlessly affectionate—that always seemed to tug at you. His smile was genuine, the kind that made it seem like he was truly happy to see you, as if your presence brightened his evening. But tonight, you barely managed more than a fleeting glance in his direction, your response a simple nod.

You could feel the weight of his gaze following you as you moved across the room, thick with unspoken tension, but you kept your expression steady, your back turned as you avoided the magnetic pull of his eyes. You weren’t letting him see how much he affected you—not tonight. Even though the air seemed to hum between you, charged and waiting for something to break, you refused to give in to the tension that stretched in the silence.

He noticed. You could tell by the slight furrow in his brow, the subtle way his gaze lingered on you, longer than it should have. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was something more, maybe concern, maybe confusion, burning quietly in the space between you. His eyes tracked your every movement, waiting for a crack in your composure. But you didn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, you brushed past him, your heart pounding a little harder than you’d like to admit, and made your way upstairs to Sarah’s room, the tension between you two left unresolved, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Inside Sarah’s room, the familiar comfort did little to quiet the storm swirling within you. You exhaled slowly, hands trembling slightly as you unzipped your bag, pulling out the dress you’d been thinking about all day. You’d chosen it with care—something that hugged your body in just the right places, a dress meant to turn heads. As you held it up, it felt a bit foolish, maybe even childish, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the truth. You wanted Joel to see you in this dress—to see you—and understand exactly what he was missing.

•••

You and Sarah were in her room, music blaring as you both got ready for the night. She was dancing around, fixing her hair in the mirror, while you finished adjusting the straps on your dress. When Sarah finally turned around and saw you, she let out a low whistle, her eyes widening in appreciation.

“Damn, girl! You’re gonna have some boys’ heads turning tonight,” she teased with a grin, looking you up and down.

You gave her a small smile, but inside, you didn’t care about anyone else’s attention. The only head you wanted to turn tonight was Joel’s.

Sarah, still humming along to the music, grabbed her makeup bag and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna finish up real quick,” she called over her shoulder. “Be right back.”

The moment Sarah disappeared, the room seemed to quiet, despite the muffled pulse of music in the background. You stood in front of the mirror, your heart racing as you took in the way the dress hugged your body, the fabric clinging to every curve. It made you feel powerful—an unfamiliar but intoxicating sensation. Your thoughts drifted to Joel downstairs, likely still lounging on the couch, the cool rim of a glass pressed to his lips as he took another slow sip. You could almost see the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes lingered on you earlier—something unreadable flickering beneath the surface. You couldn’t help but wonder: Was he thinking about you now, too?

Then came the knock.

You froze, turning toward the door just as it cracked open, revealing Joel standing in the hallway. His eyes flicked down to the dress, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly as he leaned casually against the doorframe, but his gaze betrayed him. It wasn’t just a glance—it lingered, dark and heavy.

“Can I come in?” His voice was low, husky, with a rasp that made the question feel more like a suggestion, something intimate.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat, but you forced yourself to sound casual. “Sure,” you managed, though your heart was pounding, wild and out of control, as you pretended to calmly fasten your earrings.

As Joel stepped inside, the room seemed to shrink, the air around you growing warmer with every step he took.

“While you’re here... zip me up?” you asked, your voice dropping to a soft whisper as you glanced at him through the mirror, catching his gaze.

You turned your back to him, pulling your hair to the side, exposing the open zipper of your dress and the bare skin beneath. You weren’t wearing a bra, and you knew—you knew—he’d notice. The thought sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted him to notice.

There was a beat of silence—thick, charged—before you heard him step forward, the sound of his boots against the hardwood floor sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating from him as he stood close behind you, the space between you disappearing.

His fingers brushed lightly against your bare skin as he took hold of the zipper, his touch deliberate but achingly slow. You could feel every inch as he pulled the zipper up, your eyes glued to the mirror, watching the way his gaze lingered on your back, his brow furrowed in concentration. The soft sound of the zipper filled the room, like a quiet confession neither of you were ready to make.

When the zipper reached the top, his hand didn’t move. Instead, it lingered at the nape of your neck, his fingertips grazing your skin, sending waves of heat through you. You kept your eyes on him in the mirror, the tension between you palpable, so thick you felt wobbly at the knees.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to break the silence that had grown heavier with every passing second. Your voice was soft, shaky, and did nothing to ease the pounding of your heart.

But Joel didn’t move, his hand still resting at the base of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not seriously going out like that,” he muttered, his voice low, rough, each word laced with something that felt like barely contained frustration.

You could feel his hesitation, his restraint, but also something more—a pull that neither of you could deny, even if no one was willing to say it.

You turned to face him fully, your heartbeat quickening as your eyes locked with his. The tension between you seemed to thicken, the air growing heavier. His expression was guarded, almost unreadable, but you didn’t miss the flicker of frustration beneath the surface. It simmered there, unspoken emotions straining to break free, though neither of you dared to acknowledge them. His gaze was dark, intense, and unwavering, holding you captive as if he were on the edge of saying something, but not quite ready to let the words escape.

“Why do you care?” you asked, the bitterness slipping through. The question hung between you, heavy with all the things you hadn’t said, all the mixed signals and lingering tension. You weren’t accusing him, but there was a challenge in your tone, one that dared him to answer.

Joel’s eyes flickered with something that made your chest tighten. Sadness, maybe. Hurt. Whatever it was, it passed through him so quickly that if you hadn’t been looking so closely, you might’ve missed it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch, his jaw tightening for a brief moment. His gaze dropped, like he couldn’t meet your eyes for too long, and when he finally did look at you again, that flash of emotion was gone, replaced by the familiar guarded look he always wore.

“You know why,” he said, his voice rougher now, but quieter, almost resigned. There was a heaviness to his words, like he wasn’t just talking about the dress anymore.

But before you could say anything else, before you could unpack whatever was behind those words, the sound of Sarah’s footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The tension between you and Joel hung in the air, thick and unresolved, as Sarah emerged from the bathroom, humming along to the music. She barely noticed the charged atmosphere in the room, oblivious to the silent exchange that had just occurred.

“Ready?” Sarah chirped, grabbing her purse and slipping on her shoes.

You nodded, trying to compose yourself, smoothing out the fabric of your dress as if that could ease the pounding of your heart. You could still feel the heat of Joel’s gaze on your skin, the weight of the words you had thrown at him lingering between you.

Just as you and Sarah reached the door, Joel’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“You two be careful out there,” he called, his tone casual, but when you turned to glance at him, his eyes were fixed on you. His gaze lingered, darker than before, filled with something unspoken, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as your eyes locked with his. The tension was unbearable—like you were both standing on the edge of something, teetering on the brink of an unspoken understanding that neither of you dared to name.

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” Sarah replied, rolling her eyes playfully as she grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the door.

Just as you and Sarah reached the door, you felt Joel’s eyes on you again. There were no words this time—no warning or direct instruction—but the weight of his gaze said everything he couldn’t. His eyes locked on yours, dark and intense, silently pleading with you, filled with something unspoken. You felt it—his concern, the tension, the possessiveness that simmered beneath the surface.

It wasn’t something he could say out loud, not with Sarah there. But the message was clear: be careful. He wasn’t just telling you to stay safe—he was telling you that he cared, even if he didn’t have the right to admit it.

Then, with one final glance, you turned and walked out the door with Sarah, the weight of Joel’s unspoken words still lingering in the air.

•••

The party was loud, chaotic. The bass thumped in your chest, the flashing lights casting wild shadows around the room as bodies moved in rhythm with the music. It should’ve been fun—Sarah was laughing, wrapped up with the guy she’d been seeing for a while, completely lost in her own world.

But for you, the noise, the people, the alcohol—it was all too much. You felt disconnected, like you were going through the motions, doing anything to drown out the ache gnawing at you from the inside.

You downed another drink, the bitter taste barely registering as the alcohol coursed through your system, numbing the edges of your thoughts. Boys came and went, flirting, dancing, pulling you into their arms, but none of it mattered. You didn’t care about them, couldn’t even remember their names. You were drunk, too drunk, swaying to the beat as if it could drown out the burning jealousy and hurt that had been twisting in your chest ever since Sarah told you about Joel seeing someone else.

Your skin felt too hot, your vision blurred, and still you kept dancing, moving through the haze. Every touch, every laugh felt hollow, and you knew you were only making things worse, but at this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted to forget.

But no matter how much you drank, how much you let the boys’ hands linger on your hips, the ache stayed—Joel stayed—burning at the back of your mind. The thought of him with her, laughing, touching, kissing her... it made your stomach churn.

Stumbling out of the crowd, you clumsily pulled your phone from your bag. You didn’t think about what you were doing, didn’t care. Before you knew it, you were dialing Joel.

The phone barely rang once before his voice came through the line—deep, steady, and filled with concern. “Hello?” He answered so quickly, you almost hadn’t realized the call had connected yet.

You didn’t speak right away, your head spinning, your breath shaky. “Joel...” you finally muttered, your voice thick with alcohol and something more—something vulnerable.

His tone shifted immediately, the worry in his voice unmistakable. “What’s going on? You okay?”

You let out a soft laugh, though it sounded hollow even to your ears. “I’m fine. I just... wanted to hear your voice. Your stupid Texan voice.” The words slurred together, but you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You leaned back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut as you mimicked him in a poor imitation of his accent, laughing softly to yourself.

“Where are you?” Joel pressed, his voice firm now. “You don’t sound fine. Are you drunk?”

You ignored his question, brushing it off. “I just missed you, Joel.” The words came out slurred, softer than you intended, but you didn’t care. The alcohol made everything feel more honest, more raw.

Joel exhaled slowly. “You’re drunk,” he said quietly, more of an observation than a judgment.

“Yeah,” you admitted, feeling the tears prick at your eyes, though you weren’t sure why. “I guess I am.”

There was a long pause. You could almost hear the tension in his voice when he spoke again. “Tell me where you are.”

You blinked, your vision blurring as you looked around, struggling to remember. You slurred the name of the club, your words barely making sense, but Joel caught enough to understand.

“Stay there,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m coming to get you.”

You stumbled out of the club, the music and laughter fading behind you as you made your way to a pair of stairs just outside. The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat inside, and it sent goosebumps rippling across your skin. You sat down heavily, your head in your hands, the world still spinning from the alcohol.

The breeze tugged at the hem of your dress, and you quickly pulled it down, feeling suddenly exposed as a few men walked past, their gazes lingering longer than you liked. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to make yourself smaller, wishing you could disappear into the night.

It hadn’t even been ten minutes before you heard the familiar rumble of Joel’s truck pulling up. The sound cut through the haze in your mind, and despite everything, your heart leaped at the thought of him. You lifted your head, squinting through the dim light to see him step out of the truck.

Joel’s truck came to a stop, and before you could fully process it, he was out and striding toward you. His eyes swept over you, taking in your disheveled state, the way you were sitting on the stairs with your head in your hands, and the mess of emotions written all over your face.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but it was mixed with shame. The alcohol had dulled your senses, but not enough to quiet the guilt gnawing at you for calling him in this state.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, thick with concern but free of judgment. He crouched down in front of you, his hands reaching out to gently cradle your face, tilting it up toward him. “I told you to stay inside, sweetheart.” His fingers were warm against your skin, steadying you, and the simple touch made your heart stutter in your chest.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft and tender, the gentle concern threading through his words deepening the ache that had been sitting in your chest all night. His deep brown eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you weren’t telling the truth.

You blinked up at him, the haze of alcohol making it hard to focus, but you nodded, a goofy smile spreading across your face. “Yeah... I’m okay,” you slurred, giggling softly. Then, without thinking, the words tumbled out, light and silly. “My prince... you’re here to save me.” You giggled again, your voice playful and unfiltered, like the alcohol had stripped away all your usual inhibitions.

Joel’s brow furrowed for a moment, but his lips twitched into a small, amused smile. “Alright, princess” he muttered under his breath, his concern still evident, but you could see the hint of affection in his eyes as he shook his head slightly at your antics.

Joel exhaled, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek for just a second before he pulled back. “Come on,” he murmured, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

You took his hand, the warmth of it grounding you as he helped you to your feet. The world wobbled beneath you, your heels making it even harder to stay upright. As you started to walk, you stumbled, your legs unsteady and your shoes doing nothing to help.

Joel watched as you stumbled again, his lips quirking into the faintest smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re not gonna make it far in those,” he teased softly, his voice warm and laced with affection.

Before you could even protest, Joel came to a sudden stop in the middle of the street. Letting out a soft sigh, he muttered something under his breath, too low for you to catch, and then, without hesitation, he knelt down in front of you. "Let’s get these off," he said, his voice a low, comforting rumble that seemed to vibrate through you. His hands were already reaching for your feet, gentle but determined.

Your breath caught as you stared down at him, your heart skipping a beat. There he was—Joel Miller, kneeling on the sidewalk, unbuckling your heels with the kind of care that made your chest tighten. The world around you blurred, fading into the background. It was just him—his rough, calloused hands easing the shoes from your feet with such tenderness, the warmth of his touch calming the chaos swirling in your mind.

Once your heels were off, he stood, holding them casually in one hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Without saying a word, he offered you his other hand, slipping it into yours. The way his fingers intertwined with yours felt like a quiet promise, and the warmth of his touch melted through you, steadying your heart as much as your feet.

“Better?” he asked, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar softness, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tender, almost-smile that made your chest ache.

You nodded, unable to say much as you held his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. Barefoot now, you felt more grounded, the cool pavement beneath your feet a stark contrast to the heat building between you. His hand never left yours, and you followed him without hesitation, each step feeling a little more certain with him by your side.

When you reached the truck, he opened the passenger door for you, his hand still resting against your waist. His touch lingered there—gentle, protective, and full of something unsaid—as he helped you inside. For a moment, everything felt quiet, the only thing you could focus on was the warmth of his hand, the way it stayed just a second too long, like he couldn’t quite let go.

Once you were settled in the seat, you leaned your head back against the headrest, the familiar scent of the truck calming you slightly. The ache in your chest was still there, but for now, it was dulled by Joel’s presence and the steadying comfort of his hand in yours.

You relaxed into the seat, your body easing against the soft hum of the truck as it rumbled beneath you. Once inside Joel’s hand wrapped around yours again, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles against your skin. The simple gesture sent warmth spreading through you, soothing the turmoil inside your chest.

You turned your head slightly, letting your gaze linger on him. In the soft glow of the streetlights, Joel looked perfect—like something pulled right out of a dream. The flickering light highlighted the strong lines of his jaw, the stubble darkening his skin, and the quiet focus in his eyes as he watched the road ahead. He seemed so calm, so steady, but there was something about him that made your heart race, something more intense under the surface.

His music played softly in the background, some low country tune that matched the rhythm of the night. The gentle vibrations of the truck beneath you, combined with Joel’s presence, lulled you into a strange kind of peace.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, Joel glanced over at you, his eyes catching yours. A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “See something you like?” he teased, his voice low and amused.

You blinked, the alcohol in your system making you bolder than usual. You didn’t break your gaze, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Yeah,” you murmured, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “I do.”

Joel’s smirk faltered, his eyes flickering with something unreadable for just a second. But then, he chuckled softly, shaking his head as he looked back at the road, his thumb still tracing those slow circles on your hand. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he muttered, his tone gentler now.

For a while, the world outside the truck didn’t matter. It was just you and Joel, the low hum of the engine, the soft country music, and the steady rhythm of his thumb against your skin. It felt safe. It felt like home.

By the time the truck pulled into Joel’s driveway, the exhaustion had hit you full force. The alcohol was still buzzing in your veins, making everything feel soft and blurry, but the warmth of his hand in yours and the gentle rumble of the truck had lulled you into a sense of safety. When Joel parked and turned off the engine, he glanced over at you, his eyes soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he said, his voice firm but gentle, as if there was no room for argument.

You nodded, too drained to protest, even if you wanted to. Joel got out of the truck and came around to your side, opening the door and helping you down. “You okay?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Yeah,” you mumbled with a grin, “just glad I didn’t puke in your truck.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head. “Well, I’d call that a win,” he said, his tone light but still laced with that underlying concern. His arm wrapped around your waist as he steadied you, guiding you inside. The cool night air brushed against your skin, making you stumble slightly, but Joel’s grip tightened, keeping you close.

He led you upstairs, his hand steady at your back, and as you reached the landing, you realized where he was taking you.

His bedroom.

Not Sarah’s room like you’d expected, but his.

•••

You’d never been in Joel’s room before. It was simple yet felt so unmistakably him—cozy, masculine, lived-in. The dark wood furniture had a worn-in charm, the edges softened from years of use. A sturdy dresser stood against one wall, a few framed photos resting on top, slightly tilted as if they had been placed there without much fuss. The photos caught your eye—snapshots of moments frozen in time, perhaps memories of Sarah or long-gone friends. They were subtle reminders that this space, though private, was full of history.

Among them, one stood out—a Polaroid of you, wearing Joel’s oversized cowboy hat, tilted haphazardly on your head, your smile wide and genuine. The sight of it made your heart lurch. He’d kept it, placed it here, in his space, like you belonged among the memories that meant the most to him.

The soft scent of him lingered in the air, enveloping the room in a mixture of soap, cedarwood, and something distinctly Joel. It was a scent that was comforting yet intimate, drawing you in and making you feel even more aware of his presence. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows and giving the space a warmth that made your heart flutter.

It was his space—private, understated, but deeply comforting. It felt like stepping into a part of Joel you hadn’t seen before, a part that was both vulnerable and unguarded.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the day finally settling in your bones. Joel knelt in front of you, his hand gently resting on your knee, giving a soft, reassuring squeeze. “Stay here,” he said, his voice low and soothing. The tone wasn’t a command, just a quiet promise that he’d be back.

As if you’d go anywhere else.

You sat there, staring down at the soft folds of his sheets, the smell of him lingering in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Being in his space felt overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It was intimate, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You could still feel the imprint of his touch on your knee as if he’d left a part of himself with you in those few moments.

A moment later, Joel returned, a glass of water in his hand. He handed it to you, his gaze steady, watching carefully as you lifted it to your lips. Your hands trembled slightly as you took a sip, but his presence was grounding, his silent reassurance calming your unsteady nerves.

“You wanna get out of these clothes?” he asked softly, his voice gentle yet filled with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a sudden rush of vulnerability wash over you, before nodding. “Yeah... can you help me?” you murmured, the alcohol still fogging your mind as you reached clumsily for the hem of your dress. But your fingers fumbled, and before you could struggle any further, Joel was there.

His hands were steady, so sure, as he carefully took over, guiding you out of the dress with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. There was no awkwardness, no tension—just Joel, completely focused on making sure you were comfortable, his movements deliberate and respectful. He pulled one of his old t-shirts from the dresser, the fabric soft and worn. As he slipped it over your head, the scent of him—clean, earthy, undeniably Joel—surrounded you, comforting in a way that made your chest ache with something unspoken. The intimacy of it all made you blush, the closeness overwhelming.

By now, you were barely keeping your eyes open, your body heavy with sleep. But when you glanced at yourself in the mirror across the room, you caught sight of your reflection and winced. You looked like a mess—your makeup smudged, your hair a tangled wreck.

You frowned, your voice barely above a whisper. “I look awful.”

Joel chuckled softly behind you, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Without a word, he disappeared into the hallway, his absence leaving the room feeling colder. A moment later, he returned with a makeup wipe from Sarah’s bathroom.

He crouched down in front of you again, his presence grounding you as he gently tilted your chin up with his hand. You could feel the warmth of his fingers, steady and reassuring.

You stared at him, your breath catching as you shamelessly took in every inch of his face—the lines of his jaw, the softness in his eyes, the way his brow furrowed with quiet focus. You memorized it all, imprinting the image in the back of your mind, like you were afraid you might forget this moment.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, pulling you out of your trance.

“Wait,” you whispered, stopping him mid-motion. “Let me look at you.”

Joel paused, his eyes widening slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He wasn’t used to being caught off guard, but you had a way of doing just that.

Without hesitation, you reached up, your hands gently cupping his face. The alcohol made you bold, disinhibited—you didn’t care about the rules or how vulnerable this made you. All you cared about in that moment was him.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, your words soft but honest. Joel blinked, clearly thrown off by the compliment, a deeper blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally joked, once he regained his composure, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, pretty, handsome, whatever you wanna call it,” you replied, giggling softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “You’re the prettiest man I ever saw.”

Joel stared at you, momentarily speechless, his eyes searching yours as if trying to process your words. The teasing faded into something deeper, and you could feel the weight of the moment settling between you both.

Joel’s smirk faltered as he looked at you, something more serious flickering behind his eyes. “And you’re drunk,” he said again, his voice low, but this time, there was a weight to his words, like he was trying to remind himself just as much as you.

“Pfft, so what?” you replied, your voice slurring slightly, but the alcohol only made you bolder. “Drunk words, sober thoughts... or whatever they say.” You smiled at him, but there was something fragile beneath the playfulness, something you couldn’t quite hide anymore.

You stared up at him, your fingers still resting on his face, tracing the line of his jaw. The question slipped out before you could stop it, softer than before. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Joel froze, his breath catching, his eyes darkening as they searched yours. His grip tightened on your hand, but he didn’t answer right away. “Don’t...” he muttered, his voice rough, strained, like he was trying to pull himself back from a line he wasn’t supposed to cross.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly, and you leaned in, closer, the tension between you thick, almost suffocating. “Do you?” you repeated, but this time, it wasn’t just about being pretty. You were asking him something deeper, something you didn’t even have to say out loud.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling sharply as if he was trying to gather himself. “You’re drunk,” he said again, his tone more gentle, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze flickering down, unable to meet yours. His jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself, struggling to keep control.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper now, your heart pounding in your chest as the tears started to well in your eyes. “Do you feel it too?”

Joel’s grip on your hand trembled slightly, and his jaw clenched. He finally looked up, his eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, you saw everything in his gaze—all the things he wasn’t saying, all the things he was holding back. “Of course I do,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the way he said it—the weight behind his words—made your chest tighten, like you’d been holding your breath for too long.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, his tone soft, almost pleading this time.

You did as he asked, your heart fluttering as he carefully wiped the smudges of makeup from your face, his touch so tender it made your chest ache. Each slow swipe of the wipe felt like a quiet act of care, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he was doing this.

Before you could help it you opened your eyes, “Why are you doing this?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Someone’s gotta take care of you,” he teased, his tone light, though there was an undeniable tenderness behind his words.

But then, his expression shifted, and the playful edge faded. His eyes softened, and the air between you grew heavier, more serious. “Because I care about you,” he said quietly, his voice low, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be saying it out loud.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. For a moment, you felt your heart swell with hope, but then the doubt crept in—the memory of Sarah’s casual mention about him seeing someone else twisting in your chest.

“But... you’re with her,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Joel’s brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. His eyes searched yours, trying to make sense of what you meant. And then, slowly, you saw it—the realization dawning, his expression shifting as he pieced it together.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head, his voice gentle but resolute. “We’re not... anything. It was just a couple of dinners. My friend—” He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, frustration briefly crossing his face. “My friend practically dragged me into it. But... it wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.”

You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you like a quiet revelation. The jealousy that had gnawed at you, the hurt, the confusion—it all melted away, replaced by a wash of relief that left you almost dizzy.

Joel’s eyes softened as he knelt in front of you, reaching for your hand. His touch was warm, steady, his voice quieter now, a hint of something raw in his tone. “It’s not what you think,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours, full of quiet intensity. “She... wasn’t what I was looking for.”

Joel’s thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, his eyes searching your face, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of you. “You’re what...” he began, his voice rough with emotion, but the words trailed off, unfinished. He didn’t need to say it—the meaning hung heavy in the air, unspoken but crystal clear.

His gaze locked onto yours, raw and unguarded, and even without finishing the sentence, you could feel the depth of what he meant. He didn’t have to say it, not completely.

The weight of his words hit you like a wave, your heart fluttering, breath catching in your throat. You wanted to respond, to say something, but the flood of emotions left you speechless.

Before you could fully process his words, Joel stood, the moment slipping away as his expression shifted, becoming more guarded. It was like he was pulling back just before he let himself fall, retreating behind the familiar walls he’d built. “You should get some rest,” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with reluctance, as though he wasn’t ready to leave the moment behind.

His eyes lingered on you, the hesitation clear in his gaze. “We’ll talk more in the morning... when you’re sober,” he added, his tone a little rougher now, like he was reminding himself to hold back, to wait.

But as he turned to go, a surge of panic rushed through you. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand catching his before he could step away. “Don’t leave,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability thick in the air.

Joel froze at your touch, his breath hitching as he turned back to you, his eyes meeting yours. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you electric and thick with everything unspoken. Then slowly, his expression softened, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight, a promise.

Without another word, Joel climbed into bed beside you, slipping under the covers. You instinctively curled against him, your head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body, grounded you in a way nothing else had. You could smell the familiar scent of him—soap, wood, and something uniquely Joel—and it made you feel safe, like you belonged right there.

Joel’s fingers found their way to your hair, slowly running through the strands, a soothing, absent-minded gesture that sent shivers down your spine. His other hand rested gently on your back, keeping you close, as if you were something precious he wasn’t ready to let go of.

After a while, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. It wasn’t hurried or unsure—just quiet, gentle, like an unspoken confession of everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m here,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and comforting, a promise wrapped in those two simple words.

For a moment, you held your breath, your heart pounding in the stillness of the room. The warmth of his kiss lingered on your skin, sinking deep into your bones, and suddenly, everything felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The ache in your chest eased, replaced by something soft, tender, and real.

“I’m here,” he repeated, his lips brushing lightly against your temple before pulling back, his hand still resting on your back, a steady anchor in the quiet.

And as you lay there, nestled against him, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest, you realized that for now, it was enough. Words could wait, but this—this moment, his arms around you, his whispered promise—it was enough to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, he’d always be there.