#he doesn’t mean to be rude he’s just trying to ask why he does what he does

[spookyboywhump]

Zander would be convinced that Jet being around Wren would be a bad thing and that Jet would hurt him for some reason but really. Jet would have no issues with Wren. He’s just a little guy. He’s following the rules and minding his business. Jet’s only problem is trying to figure out why Wren is so good at this and Zander is so bad at it. He kind of wishes he could pick Zander’s brain apart and find out what’s wrong in there.

[fingertipsmp3]

I hate how not over-explaining & justifying myself (when I literally don’t need to) feels rude

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night !!

ᝰ.ᐟ there’s nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. ( fem!reader )

pairing seishiro nagi x reader word count 2.4k content contains jealousy (nagi is being a baby abt how chigiri has your attention)/jealous sex, soft yandere!nagi, possessive sex, biting/marking kinktober masterlist

Evil. 

That’s what you are. Nagi is convinced that you are the fucking devil, someone sent from the abyss to ruin his life and destroy his ego. 

Maybe that’s a harsh judgment to make — he doesn’t mean it; not really, anyway. But there is something about you that chips away at his nonchalance. Seishiro Nagi doesn’t care about a lot of things. He can’t be bothered to. He thought that after soccer found its way into whatever void is inside of him, he’d be fulfilled. That that was it — he found his purpose, he found his driving force, and now he can enter society as a functioning human being with actual hopes and dreams. 

He never realized that he had the capacity to care about anything else, and then you arrive on the field one day, camera in one hand, a bright smile plastered on your face as you’re being introduced as the new social media manager for Manshine City. 

And suddenly, Nagi realizes that not only does he have the capacity, he’s actually emptier than he thought. 

You had been receptive to his awkward, fumbling advances. For as attractive and cool he appears on the outside, Nagi’s never bothered to actually approach any girls before. Never really felt the need to. You had taken all his accidental rude comments in stride, and you harbored the same interests as him, and he finally has you now. 

He has you, and no one else can call you theirs, and yet here he is, on a Friday night, sulking in bed instead of getting his precious rest time. 

He’s frowning, looking up at his ceiling as he thinks about what had happened earlier today. 

There’s really no need for a dress code. The coaches are all decked out in athleisure, the athletes themselves are wearing practice jerseys, and since you’re expected to be constantly on the move and chasing after these athletes, trying to get good footage and spend the whole day with ‘em, Nagi can’t necessarily fault you for wanting to be comfortable. You’re wearing a cropped version of the Define Jacket with leggings that hug you in just the right way, and Nagi swears that he isn’t a jealous person.

He thinks being envious is a crude waste of his energy, energy that he can’t bother to exert, and he’s never really experienced jealousy before. 

Maybe that’s why he’s awake at midnight despite the fact that he has an early morning practice scheduled. A practice that you’ll be attending, once again. He frowns as he tosses and turns in his bed, trying to shut his eyes, but every time they’re closed, he keeps seeing you. 

More accurately, you and Chigiri. 

Just the thought of his teammate is enough to make a scowl appear on his face. 

You’re filming content for a TikTok, and Nagi can’t help but childishly pout when he asks himself why does the TikTok need to star Chigiri and Chigiri alone? It’s not like he’s the only member on the team, you know! You spent the whole day laughing at whatever Chigiri had to say, and Nagi knows that it sounds terrible, but he doubts his teammate is that hilarious. And the way you kept following him around, barely paying any attention to the other players, including your own boyfriend, wasn’t even Nagi’s breaking point. No — what his breaking point happened to be was the way your figure-flattering outfit was just too tantalizing. 

You’re so focused on Chigiri, with your back turned to everyone else, that Nagi gets quite a view every time you’re bending down to get a different angle. Even just the memory alone is enough to get him hard. 

Fuck. Now he’s sporting a semi, he’s still seething with jealousy with the memory of you all over Chigiri still constantly playing on a loop in his mind, and worst of all: you’re not here with him. Your laptop is in your apartment, and you had kissed him goodbye after practice because you needed to edit the footage you captured today, and so you can’t spend the night with him like you usually do. 

When thirty minutes go by, and he’s still wide awake, jealous, and hard, Nagi rolls over and groans in his pillow. The minute he gets his hands on, he’s intent on making sure you can’t walk. You won’t be able to chase after Chigiri, that’s for damn sure. 

Things don’t necessarily go according to Nagi’s grand plan. Sure, you’re laying in bed with him, wearing just his shirt and a pair of panties, but you barely paid any attention to him. He’s been pretending to be occupied with his Switch, but he keeps glancing over at you. 

You’re on your phone, eyebrows furrowed as you meticulously go through the footage for a video you plan on uploading. Nagi scowls when he catches a familiar glimpse of red hair moving on the screen. You’re still editing videos of him? Seriously? 

“I thought you weren’t working today,” he mumbles, tossing aside the Switch. You don’t even look up from your phone.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, but Hyoma asked if there’s anything he can improve on for the next promo vid we’re shooting, and I want to at least find something to comment on so he knows I’m taking him seriously.” Chigiri is surprisingly a perfectionist when it comes to videos of himself. He’s been constantly asking you if you’re sure he doesn’t look too nervous or too stiff on camera, and honestly, his worrying is a bit endearing. 

Hyoma — since when were you on a first name basis with his teammate?

This is what sets him off. This is his breaking point.

Sometimes, with how sloth-like Nagi acts, it’s easy to forget that he’s a bonafide professional athlete. A genius, even. He’s quick to pounce on you, tossing your phone somewhere on his massive bed while pinning your body down with his own. With no pesky phone in the way, the only person to give your undivided attention to is him. That’s exactly how it should be. 

“Sei— Ah!” You can’t help but let out a surprised gasp as you feel Nagi nip the soft skin of your neck, teeth grazing you. Not hard enough to leave a mark (he’ll save that for later, for when you’re too drunk on his cock to protest), but sharp enough for you to feel it, to feel the pressure and the intent and the promise behind a love bite. 

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” Nagi grumbles, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. 

“I am, Seishiro.” You run a hand through the white strands of your boyfriend’s hair. It’s just as soft as it looks, and he leans into your touch, seemingly content. You didn’t realize just how neglected poor Nagi was feeling, and you wonder if it’s possible if he’s jealous. But that can’t be it — Nagi’s never been jealous a day in his life. He doesn’t even react when he catches guys flirting with you in public because he’s so confident in his relationship with you. 

You think he just wants to rest like this, but then you feel his lips dragging down the expanse of your neck. He sucks on your collarbone for a second, and returns back to your neck, sucking and biting, and all you can do is tangle your fingers into his hair, letting out little whimpers and gasps. 

“Sei, baby, you— you’re gonna leave marks.” 

He lifts his head up momentarily, staring up at you with a dark fog in his gray eyes that you normally don’t see. Underneath that haze of desire, though, lies something sharper in the gleam of his eyes. 

“That’s the point.” 

And then he does bite down on the fragile flesh of your neck. And you just lay there, allowing him to. 

Nagi wastes no time in using one hand to rub against your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before traveling further to slide your cotton panties to the side. When his thick fingers brush against your folds, he can’t hold back a smile as he finds you already wet. 

You’re embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks when Nagi holds up his hand so you can see the way your essence is glistening on his middle and ring fingers. “You’re this wet, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.” His tone is half-teasing, half-in awe. He maintains eye contact with you, and you watch him stick his fingers in his mouth, obscenely sucking on his digits, groaning as the taste of you hits his tongue. 

And when he’s done, he finally does kiss you properly. 

You think you can taste a hint of yourself on him, and it only makes you feel even hotter. You’re subconsciously thrusting your hips upwards, trying to get any sort of friction from him. 

“Mm, ah, Sei—”

“Shh.” Nagi hushes you, pressing another kiss against your lips, swallowing up your would-be pleading and begging for something, anything — his fingers, his tongue, his cock, something to ease the heat building inside of you. “Gonna make my baby feel so good.” He rubs at your slit through the slickness of your panties, teasing you as he allows the thin fabric to act as the only barrier between his ring finger and your wet heat. You’re already soaking through the cotton.

He’s been fucking pent up since last night, finding no relief, and now that he has you pinned down on his bed, wet and whining for him, he figures you won’t mind if he rushes into things. He has plenty of stamina, anyway. He can go all night if you want him to.

You mewl out his name pathetically when he slides your panties to the side once more, only instead of his fingers toying with you, it’s the tip of his cock that you feel prodding the entrance of your cunt. 

“You feel that?” He gasps out, having to take a few breaths as he adjusts to the snugness and heat of your cunt. He’s slowly pressing forward, making himself at home inside of your pussy, slowly but surely. “That’s—” Just a few more inches ‘til he’s bottoming out. “—the only dick that’s ever gonna be inside of your pussy.” He’s pressed as deeply as possible, his entire length buried inside of you. 

He’s close, so close to you, and all you can do is whimper as you adjust to his size. Nagi’s cock isn’t just long, but thick. Even with your slick-soaked hole helping ease him in, it’s still a bit of a pain to take him all the way. 

“Say it.” His voice goes a bit deeper than his normal easy-going cadence. When you look into your boyfriend’s eyes, you see it once more: the pussydrunk, lustful haze clouding his vision, and the dark, sharp look that is the driving force behind why your boyfriend impatiently started burying his cock inside of you as soon as he could. “C’mon, tell me.” 

The thrusts he’s giving you right now are only shallow; an inch or two being pulled out, only to lightly be shoved back in. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s growing impatient once more, but he refuses to fuck you boneless unless you tell him what he wants to hear. 

Fortunately, it’s the truth. It’s the truth when you whine out, “This pussy is a-all yours, Seishiro.” 

“Yeah?” He’s pulling out slowly, licking his lips as he watches how submissive he can get you to be. He’ll start with a slower pace, he decides. Treat his girl to a couple of easy orgasms before he starts showcasing his true strength. 

At least, that was his plan. Then, your phone notifies you of a text message.

He stills, eyes glancing, squinting at your screen. 

It’s a text. 

From Chigiri. 

Nagi focuses his attention back on you, but inside his mind, all he sees is the notification with his teammate’s name on it. Your eyes are wide, as if you know what he just saw, but before you can explain yourself, Nagi abruptly slams back into you.

The pace he sets is brutal. He has one hand gripping the headboard to steady himself, his other is angrily tightened around your hip, sure to leave a bruise he’ll kiss all better later. 

“Fuck.” He practically snarls, never relenting. All you can do is let out a string of moans as his cock continues to pound your pussy. There’s another chime from your phone, another notification from Chigiri. He’s asking if the video looks okay. 

You don’t have work on the brain. The only thing your mind is capable of processing are the sensations that Nagi is serving up to you on a silver platter. Even with his brutal pace and hard thrusts, he finds enough kindness inside of him to move his hand from your hip and instead grind his palm against your clit. The callouses all over his hand only add to the pleasure, and you find yourself sobbing out his name as you feel the familiar, overwhelming need to cum. 

“You gonna cum?” Nagi grunts out, as if he doesn't already know. He can tell, y’know. He can tell, because your walls are clamping down on his dick so tightly, it’s a struggle to pull out because you’re clinging to him. He can tell, because you’ve got your adorable little fucked-out expression on your face. Drool on your lips, a string of incoherent pleading and broken mewls of his name. His name. Yeah, you better be moaning his name, and his only.

“Mm, Seishiro!” You squeal out, tightening even more against his cock. Your clit is so sensitive, so receptive to his touch, paired with the nonstop thrusting of his dick, you can’t help but cream all over him. 

“Fu-ck.” The swear comes out in broken syllables as Nagi feels you cumming on his cock. He looks away from your face to look at the messy scene between your legs. Your panties are still pushed to the side, the fabric wet from your juices, and when he pulls out a bit, he sees a nice, white ring around his girth. 

You’re still whimpering, eyes closed shut as you try to regain your breath, but Nagi isn’t done just yet. He still hasn’t cum.

When he hears another text message notification, certainly from Chigiri once again, Nagi knows that you’re in for a long night. He won’t stop even after he cums. 

No — for every text message you get from his teammate, that’s another orgasm he’ll just have to wring out of you.

[i-starcreamed]

Hi!, can I get some headcanons of transformers one character being jealous and the reader teases them.

D-16, Orion, Sentinel, Badassatron, and elita.

TF-ONE X READER

I tried to make this silly I'm feeling silly...enjoy

Post includes all of above :3

D-16

Tries to act unaffected by it, but doesn’t make a huge deal

Usually

He’s usually nice about it

Let’s say a bot is being really friendly with you, they’re making you laugh and everything. D sees from the distance, then comes up to you. Placing a servo against the small of your back-frame. “Heyy what’s so funny? I want to hear too :)”

He’s forcing a smile so bad.

He’s harmless, man, he trusts you completely

If another bot is for real flirting with you though, he's going to be so passive-aggressive

It’s more like he wants ur attention lol

If you teased him about it he’s going to deny it so hard

"What? No, no no.. I’m not jealous..pfft"

If you’re extra sweet maybe he’ll admit it

NOO y/n.. I’m funnier than them anyway.. I’m cooler too..

Orion

Don’t get jealous often either

He trusts you, he’s trustful of most bots

He gets jealous when you don't give him enough attention too

You’ll be talking to someone and he’ll just be in the background like,

“I’m..Y/N? Hey I..y/n? Uhm..I'm..right here..”

He’s so awkward, he doesn’t want to be rude to either of you but he’s lonely!!

If you tease him about looking sad when you’re not looking at him all the time, he’ll softly scoff.

"Well...yeah. They were flirting with you.."

sad puppy eyes

"Orion..they were asking me about Sentinels speech yesterday.."

"Oh...sorry."

eughhh

Sentinel

Oh boy

It’s a mix of irritation and jealousy

Why are you looking at someone else! When you can be looking at him!

He might be an attention seeker. He’ll just say things to catch your attention.

“Hey sweetspark, come look at my new paint job!” He calls you over as you're busy talking to someone else, he looks exactly the same btw

If you teased him I feel like he’ll take it way too seriously

“Jealous? What is there to be jealous of?? I’m literally Sentinel??”

But then his insecurity starts

“Wait…do you like talking to them more?”

evil sad puppy eyes

He'll only be content if you feed him compliments. Also erm..never talk to that bot again

#toxic

If he can’t demote the bot he was jealous of, he’ll try to one-up them, otherwise they are FIRED

After he gets over it he’ll be extra affectionate. You also get affectionate when you tease him so maybe it’s not so bad after all

insert makeout session

B-127

Badassatron

He’s definitely a bit attention and touch-starved after being stuck in low levels for who knows how many years

It’s only logical that he’s glued to your side for the rest of your life

If he’s jealous it’s very obvious. He tries to do something to get your attention or awkwardly stands there

Hey y/n look at this! - Does a backflip and falls

Tease him about it and he gets flustered

"Whattt? No, I’m not jealous!" He lets out a cocky laugh

“Ok maybe a little..”

Kiss his faceplate all over and he’s yours

He's definitely the least harmful

If he's jealous about a bot he particularly dislikes or they're flirting with you out and about, he might be more passive-aggressive about it

"Hey don't mean to intrude or anything, but uh, I'm kinda busy with my PARTNER. And by PARTNER I mean we're together. Yeah, uh huh! So, if you don't mind, my PARTNER and I are going to ignore you now. Since we're y'know..busy being together."

Elita

She’s smug about her jealousy, but only you could tell

“No, I’m not jealous. What makes you think that?”

Meanwhile, she’s giving the nastiest glare to the other bot.

“You really need to stop bringing their hopes up. Did you hear the way they were flirting with you?”

“Elita...they were just thanking me."

“Don’t even look at them actually"

If you tease her, she either denies it or is very proud

Like yeah she got a little jealous, she has such an amazing partner and anyone in their right mind would see that too.

Or no..she's definitely not jealous. She's just speaking her mind

[razrbladekiss]

HITS DIFFERENT | Chapter One - Summer Bummer

A/N: i’ve never written for mr. miller before, so i’m super nervous for how this’ll be received by everyone…but i enjoyed conjuring this up, and i hope you guys find it not-all bad! any feedback is welcome. i looove getting asks and anons. <3

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

PAIRING: no outbreak, single dad!joel x afab!reader (age gap relationship, joel is in his late forties, reader is mid-twenties.) strictly no use of y/n.

SUMMARY: your neighborly duties begin to stretch farther than simply offering a greeting whenever you and joel cross paths. after he recently becomes a single parent, you take it upon yourself to assist mr. miller in this new, completely terrifying endeavour.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. angst. tiny bit of fucking on the first date (that isn’t anything reminiscent of a date LOL), fingering, finger sucking, joel being a dirty old man, unprotected piv sex. it’s kinda cute kinda cunty. i’ll leave you guys to decide what you think.

MASTERLIST

He’s the very last person that you’d be asking for help today, and he knows that. Joel knows that you’d rather claw your own eyes out, or rip your flesh away from bone and heave it in the fucking dumpster at the end of the street, than knock at his door and request his assistance. 

He’s the cranky guy that lives across the way. The guy that, really, you know very little about aside from the fact that he has an attitude problem, a daughter, and his partner doesn’t seem to show her face all that often anymore. 

You’d heard—from your busybody neighbor, Clare in No.13–that Joel’s wife had left for a younger, more attractive man from Tennessee. And though you hate to pry, and aren’t very nosy, you can’t help thinking about it the more you see Joel leave the house without the woman that was once fastened to his hip. 

Maybe that’s why he’s been so miserable lately. 

Ugh. You hate to call on him. But you’re desperate. It’s hot—like, the flaming crevices of hell are fighting to burst open the sidewalk outside of your house hot—and you’re dying. You’re sweating from places that you didn’t even know could sweat, and it’s disgusting. 

You step onto his front porch—donning a knee-length sundress and a pair of chunky sandals—and wipe moisture away from your forehead as it beads against your skin, using the back of your arm to do so. 

Joel’s house is significantly more drab than your own. It boasts the same stoney exterior as yours, and ivy flows over the eavestrough above the front door, only it's a little unkempt. And while your humble abode has so much curb appeal, the entire HOA board is actually envious, Joel’s man cave…doesn’t. It has a porch swing, a trough planter full of random succulents, a couple of Texas flags, and a door mat that simply reads “Fuck off.” Which is against the rules, you often remind him. 

But Joel doesn’t care. About anything. And that’s why you can’t find it in yourself to even try to get along with him. Not because of the doormat—you don’t care about that—but because he’s always so mean. To your neighbors, to the mailman, to anyone that sets foot on his property. 

To you.

It isn’t all the time, but you catch it every so often. The way Joel looks you up and down when you’re chatting with Mrs. Kavanagh over the fence on a Sunday afternoon about your week. How he always makes snide comments about the way you drive like a mad woman, or when you offer a friendly ‘hey’ to him each morning when you cross one another’s paths before work. 

You don’t recall a time where you pissed Joel off to the point of blatant ignorance, but you did. And though Tommy believes that the reason for his brother’s more rash behavior is the fact that he might have a crush on you, you feel otherwise. Because Joel is so rude—so crass, on occasion—and nothing about that screams “I want to fuck you.”

Or maybe it does and you’re just oblivious. But regardless, Joel is renowned—street-wide—for being a miserable old grouch. 

You can’t figure him out. And you’re not entirely sure that you want to, either. 

However, he’s the only man on this street handy enough to fix your A/C unit. 

So you press the buzzer—minding you don’t tread on a pair of worn-out work boots that are lazily placed beside the front door—and wait for your miserable neighbor to grumble and groan, when he catches sight of you through the glass. 

You smile when you see some of his daughter’s toys scattered across the wood beneath the swing. You don’t even know her name, that’s how little knowledge you have of the man that’s lived across the street from you for the past year and a half. 

Joel swings open the door, a cigarette pinched between his lips, and a rag over his shoulder. His sweat-slick torso glistens beneath the Austin sun, pecks slightly muddied with oil and whatever other substances that he’s working with, while his shirt is wrapped around his waist. 

He exhales smoke around the stick, swiftly taking it into his left hand. His right comes up—with the rag—to rub at his face. 

“What?” He rasps out. 

It kills you to admit that you think that Joel is attractive—in an unconventional, dirty old-man kinda way—but, fuck. He’s rugged, and rough, and his body looks so inviting. You hate yourself for staring at him like this. 

But you’re only human. Right? And the way he speaks to you, most certainly cancels out any physical attraction that you may have. Right? Right?

“Good Morning to you too, Miller.” Bitchy, you retort. “I just came over to ask if you’re willing to help me fix my A/C unit, but I see that you’re busy being a cunt—“

He laughs, flicking cigarette ash to the ground. Joel leans against his doorframe, watching you, watching him. 

“Your language is vile, little lady.” 

You hate when he calls you that. It’s so patronizing. It’s also one of the only times that Joel addresses you with actual words and not just a glare, or a groan.  

“I don’t care.” Trying your hand at being just as blunt as him, you say. “I just need cool air in my house because the three fans, several wet towels, and kiddie pool in my backyard just aren’t cutting it anymore, and I think I’ll die if I have to put up with the heat any longer—“

He holds a hand up, begging you to shut your mouth. 

“Fine.” He capitulates and you just blink at him, not being able to believe that he’s agreeing to help you with minimal begging and not even needing a bribe.

Because the last time you trudged over to his house in the downpour—soaked all the way through to your bra—and asked if he could do anything about the water leaking through your bedroom window, Joel billed you for your time. 

And when Clare needed her lawn mowed because her husband was out of town and she’d dislocated her shoulder, Joel sent an invoice through the door for his forty-seven minutes work. 

But you try to forget all of that. Because he’s helping you from the ‘goodness’ of his own heart. 

“Thanks.” You reply, watching him shirk the cotton from his shoulder. “I know you don’t really want to help, but I’m grateful—“

He waves you off when he shrugs the tank over his head, the material immediately sticking to his damp chest. Your eyes linger over his form for a few seconds while you fiddle with the keys between your fingers, not being able to tell if Joel is being charitable, or just trying to get you to stop complaining about the fucking weather. 

But you don’t mind. Because when he works his magic, you’ll be able to able to relax in your own living space, and sleep peacefully without worrying about waking in a ravine of your own sweat. 

“I don’t have cash, but I’ve got beer in the fridge—“

“I don’t want your booze.” He says while closing the front door. Joel traipses past you on the steps, padding toward the open garage. 

You watch him grab a box of tools, wondering how that one man acquired every single skill beneath the sun—well, all but the art of being able to properly communicate with his fucking neighbors—and offer a hand because the thing looks heavy. He waves you off—again—and you nod. 

“Well, then what do you want?”

“Nothin’.” He says honestly. “Gotta start showin’ all you people that I’m not just some haggard old man, and can actually help every once in a while.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, you feel bad. Awful, actually. 

Had he recently become privy to the fact that everybody knew of his business? Because—try as you might to avoid the buzz—it was difficult, living on such a tight street. And the trials and tribulations of each individual living on Bluebell Drive are always public knowledge, at some point. 

It only took five days for the neighbors to find out when your last relationship fizzled out, and only seven for them to know how and why it ended. 

“We don’t all think you’re haggard.” You say, trying to lighten the mood. You see Joel’s back muscles contract as he pulls the garage door closed, and then turns back to face you with a look that resembles an emotion that you aren’t familiar with. 

“Just old?”

He starts to chuckle after a few seconds, and so do you—once you realize that he’s joking. You’re a bit more comfortable, now. Your attempt to diffuse the sudden thorny tension has worked, and Joel is starting to see that you’re not that bad. 

“I don’t think you look old.” Honestly, you tell him. You begin to walk onto the street, holding tightly the hem of your dress as a gust of wind threatens to blow it up to your waist. “How old are you, Joel? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all.” He follows you onto the path, watching the white linen lift as another gust flits over—showing just the slightest bit of pink lace against pert skin—and smiles. “I’m forty-nine. Never really cared about gettin’ older, but it’s harder with a little one.”

“How old is your little girl?”

“She’s about to turn one.” Joel says—almost gushing with pride. He pads along the pavement and toward the pathway, watching his footing because there’s so many plants and flowers that scatter the sidewalk outside of your house, and he knows that he won’t hear the end of it if he crushes one of them this morning. “She’s a handful, but she’s worth it.”

The way he speaks about his baby is enough to make you see that there is a heart beneath such a tough exterior. There’s something so vulnerable—so candid—about the way he speaks about her. It’s refreshing. 

“Does she spend much time with anyone else?”

“My brother.” He tells you. “Yeah, Tommy and his girlfriend have taken her out this mornin’ actually. To some petting zoo, I think.”

“That’s so sweet.” Truthfully, you say. You’ve never seen Joel so at peace, and you wonder why you ever hated him in the first place. 

He’s a tough nut to crack—that’s always been a given—but perhaps he’s not as hard-faced and complicated as you once thought that he might’ve been. 

“It is.” He replies. Joel follows you through the front of your very well-to-do home—wondering why he can’t seem to keep such a tidy place—and admires how much pride you take in your living space. 

Everything—from the crown molding, to the baseboards—is in a more than pristine condition, and your floor is so clean Joel swears he could eat his dinner off of it. 

“I bet it’s hard to keep up with chores when you’ve got a little one.” You say almost reading his mind. “I find it hard sometimes, and it’s just me living here.”

It sounds almost sad. He catches the way you not-so-fondly declare your living situation, as if you owe him any sort of explanation or insight into your life. You don’t. 

“It ain’t that bad. Tommy helps out a lot.” Joel tells you and you lead him up the stairs—but not before asking him if he’d mind taking off his dusty work boots. “Just neither of us are very good at cookin’. I mean, I can do the basic shit, but Tommy is fuckin’ awful. Sienna—Tommy’s girl—is an amazing cook, but she works long hours, and she’s got a kid of her own to worry about, so—“

“So you guys are just stuck living on pasta and fries?”

Joel snickers, though he does nod. He likes that you can be direct sometimes. 

“I can teach you how to cook. I mean—“ you show him to your bedroom quickly. “You’re doing me a favor by fixing my aircon, the least I can do is show you how to make a pie, or some kind of casserole that you can stick in the freezer and use in emergencies.”

“Thanks.” He’s taken aback. Not for the fact that you’re showing him your boudoir—despite that being where your faulty machine is located—but because you’re offering pleasantries where they’re not usually seen. Joel isn’t one to complain, though. 

He is, however, the type of man to somehow offend somebody on a whim, and so he shuts his mouth when you open the top of the unit. 

“It’s kinda old—ignore that, it came with the house.”

He nods, taking out one of his torches from the tool bag. 

“So…” you watch over his shoulder—irritating him a bit—as he putters and fiddles with the internal mechanisms. “Can I get you anything?”

Some fuckin’ space. 

“No thanks.”

Tight-lipped, you smile. 

Joel’s fingers work the fan to ensure that it’s still able to spin, and you marvel at his uncharacteristic gentleness. With fingers as calloused as his own, you’d be sensible in thinking that he has a tendency to be heavy handed. But apparently not. 

And that just adds to the fact—as blatant as anything—that you really don’t know the man that you share a zip code with. 

“It needs refrigerant.”

“Oh—“

“It’s a quick fix. I can run to the hardware store and pick some up—but you’re gonna have to wait ‘cus Tommy’s taken my truck.”

“We can take my car?” You offer, leaving him to mull it over for a few seconds. “But I’ve just gotten it valeted—“

“I’ll wait for my brother to get back. Should only be another few hours.”

You blink at him. Your stare is blank, completely fucking empty. How does he expect you to sit—to simmer and literally marinate—in your own sweat? 

But before you can whine and make Joel’s day ten times worse, he proposes an idea. 

“You can uphold your end of the bargain, in the meantime.” Smug, he says. “My A/C works—and I got fans in my kitchen. If you come ‘n help me out with making some cookies and a pot roast, then I can go get you what you need when Tommy gets back.”

You don’t even need to consider the offer before you’re running downstairs and grabbing vegetables and spices, and whatever else you’ll need that you know Joel won’t have in his pantry. 

He gets you to take a few beers across the street, too. And you do because you’re kind, and want Joel to feel comfortable when doing something that he’s not all too familiar with. 

You give him time to clean up when you get back to his house, and find all the appropriate utensils to start cooking. Joel spends at least fifteen minutes in the shower, and you take time to indulge yourself with the icy flurry in his kitchen. 

It’s a feeling almost orgasmic in nature. The bitterness against your skin—cold and lurid, almost—and breeze that catches the hem of your dress, hiking it to the middle of your thigh, is wonderful. You find yourself leaning into it like an embrace, letting the skin of your chest catch the cool. 

And in your moment of pure superfluity, you somehow drown out the background noise of footsteps approaching the linoleum floor of the kitchen. 

Joel clears his throat. “Nice?”

You spin around—the neckline of your dress slightly garbled—and bleed crimson into your cheeks. “Yes. It’s lovely.” You stutter, completely embarrassed. “Sorry—“

“Don’t be. You’ve been meltin’ all day, sugar. You need this.”

Sugar. Your heart skips a beat at the pet name. 

Joel walks to the refrigerator—like he hasn’t just rocked your entire fucking world after doing a brilliant job of convincing you that he hates you over the last god-knows however many months—and puts his hands on his hips. 

“Can we use Chuck Roast?”

You nod, not being able to formulate a verbal response. 

You’re still trying to cross the sugar bridge. 

“Fantastic.” He says. Joel reaches down into the cupboard beside the range and takes out a roasting tray that you’re sure has never been used before. “This?”

“Yes.” Finally, you manage. And though the cool against your flesh is lovely, you can still feel heat stippling across the apples of your cheeks. 

You wonder if he heeds it. 

Joel turns back to you with a shit-eating grin. He does. 

“I can’t wait to make this. Sarah’ll love it.”

You lift a brow. 

“My little girl. That’s her name.”

“Oh.” Your eyes soften. “That’s beautiful, Joel. She’s a cute kid.”

He nods, padding over to stand beside you at the counter. “She is. And she loves her food, so this’ll go down a damn treat…And if you’re lucky, then you can stay ‘n eat with us.”

“Joel, I couldn’t—“

He raises a hand as you pull oil, salt and some more herbs from your bag. “I insist. We don’t really know one another, and I can’t help feelin’ like we’ve got off on the wrong foot. It’s the least I can do, especially ‘cus of how nice you’ve always been to my brother.”

It’s true. Tommy has always been somebody that you’ve regarded highly, because he’s such a delight. He might’ve accidentally stumbled into your life—and your back—at the supermarket last year, but he’s been a lovely permanent fixture in your life. And you can’t seem to think of having it any other way. 

He’s a good friend. And even better confidant, with a brother whose chocolatey hues are scrutinizing your form—top to bottom—while you oil your pan, and throw in a handful of onions and carrots. 

Joel’s head grows fuzzy, the more he watches and listens to you. He can’t seem to wrangle any rational thoughts, now. Because you’re actually down-to-earth—when it’s just the two of you—and he wonders why it’s taken this long for him to invite you into his home. 

The angsty nature of your relationship has always put a downer on things. Whenever he’d catch sight of you talking to his brother, Joel’s green-eyed monster would consume him and any sense of reason would become distorted. And he always knew that he was the sole reason for the bitter tension—because you’re never this way with anybody else—but can never bring himself to admit just why he feels this way. 

Tommy’s inconceivable idea about him having a crush on you—that, really, isn’t so odd now—might be ringing true. 

You explain to Joel each step that must be taken in order to achieve the perfect pot roast. From browning the vegetables, to adding the beef and stock and all of the herbs that contribute to the meaty flavor, Joel listens intently to your every word. 

He’s completely lost in you, now. The way you speak. How you explain things with metaphors, and examples that Joel will understand. How you use the back of your arm to wipe away perspiration as you stand over the broiling pot, never taking your eyes off of the meal that you’re helping your neighbor to prepare. 

Joel is infatuated. 

“Now we let it sit for a few hours.” You say while walking over to the sink to wash your hands clean of any food. “Did you still want to make some cookies?”

“Maybe later. I’m kinda fed up of being in this kitchen now.” He lets out a laugh and puts down the big spoon that you’d given to him to stir the pot. Because that’s his job, now. “You want a drink?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Wine, beer, lemonade, orange juice.” He recites from memory. “Not sure what else is in the refrigerator.”

You glance at the clock. It’s barely pushing one in the afternoon, but you’re gasping for a cool glass of white. Or red. Or whatever the fuck Joel has cold. 

“Wine, please.”

He pulls out a bottle of Merlot—not something you’d associate with Joel—and you reach for two glasses from the open cabinet above the stove.  

“I didn’t put you down as a wine drinker, Miller.”

“Well, I guess that I’m full of surprises.” He says teasingly, sliding over your almost-completely-full beverage. 

You hum when you pull the glass up to your lips, indulging in the heavy-handed pour from the man who can’t take his fucking eyes off of you as you stand at his kitchen island, helping him make dinner. 

Joel is transfixed by the way that your chest—shiny and glistening—raises as you take each breath. How the strap on your dress falls to the middle of your arm when you lift the stem of the glass, or lower it back to the island. 

He’s kicking himself. But he’s enjoying the sight too much to look away. 

“See something you like?” You ask and lick your lips, almost pandering to the internal quandary that he has suddenly found himself entwined with. And you’re never usually this forward, so the ventricles of your heart begin to seize as the organ batters against the cage of your ribs, pulsating vividly beneath your sundress. 

Joel is surprised by the tone of your voice, almost pinching himself to ensure that this isn’t some kind of convoluted alternate reality. 

But he soon realizes that this—you in his home—is not a figment of his imagination, but something very real. 

“I guess.” Joel says, and rounds the island until he’s standing beside you. He looks you up and down, setting his glass against the wood grain. “What about you?”

You nod, letting your gaze flit between Joel’s face and the protruding bulge in the taught denim decorating the lower half of his body. He feels his heat begin to temper, getting strangled by his jeans the more he eyes you. 

Joel urges you to sit on the counter—his hands affix to the meat of your ass as you lift yourself up—and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist in a bid to pull him impossibly close to your body.

“Is this a good idea?”

“Probably not.” Joel all but growls before he’s fastening his lips to your own, and you’re moaning into his mouth while he’s starting to unbuckle the belt on his pants. 

It’s needy. God. It’s so fucking needy that you’re at risk of unraveling right here, but you manage to contain your arousal, and allow yourself to add more intensity to the embrace. 

Joel’s tongue is blanketed by the taste of wine, cigarettes, and a hint of the broth that the two of you made before he was trying to get into your panties, and you’re basking in it. You’re basking in the way that his nose pushes into your own as he adds more force—more desire—to the kiss, and how much he craves you after so many months spent despising your presence. 

“Joel—“ You whimper out when he comes up for air, putting your hands against his as he palms his cock through the material of his underwear. “Joel, this isn’t right—“

“‘Course it is, baby.” He croons in your ear, seeing the goosebumps stipple down your neck and across your shoulders. Your head falls backwards. “See how much you like it? This is just fine.”

You take a deep breath when his prick—still endowed in his Calvin’s—dances along your clothed heat. “But—But what if Tommy gets back.” 

“Then we’ll have to make it quick.” Joel states, letting his member spring free of the confines of his boxers, and your eyes widen. It’s bigger than you thought—not that you had thought much of it until this moment—and the girth is commendable. You’re not sure whether you’ll be able to take him in one fluid motion, but you don’t doubt that Joel will try. 

He lifts the hem of your dress until it’s sitting just above your panty line, and rubs his thumb over your clit that suddenly feels trapped beneath pink lace. Joel massages the bud for a few measly seconds before remembering that this was meant to be a quickie, and pushes your underwear to the side. 

“Wow.” His jaw drops. He lets his forefinger run up and down your seam, gathering the pooling wetness on the tip of it. Joel brings it to his lips and sucks it clean, before he’s going back in with another. 

Joel’s fingers pump slowly—seductively—in and out of your pussy, knuckle fucking deep until he’s pushing at the spongiest part of your cunt. He feels resistance, and you begin to tighten around him, but he continues. 

He paws at his cock in time with the hilt deep finger-fucking he’s giving you, moaning your name. You claw your nails against the counter, hardly able to hold yourself up while you begin to leak liquid arousal around Joel’s calloused fingertips that’re working you to your finish. 

“If you—Joel—don’t fuck me, I’ll cum all over your hand—“

“Is that a threat?” He digs, hastening his pace. He curls and contracts his fingers within the chasms of your core, unravelling you very quickly. You whine and write beneath his hold, striving to keep onto your dignity for a little bit longer than this. “‘Cus, darlin’, I can live with that—“

You cut him off with a moan as he pulls his fingers out and—like the dirty old man that he is—makes you suck them clean. He shoves them down the back of your throat until you’re gagging with tears in your eyes, lining his cock up at your slit while he’s choking you like a fucking masochistic psychopath. 

But it’s hot. 

Joel is so hot, and you can’t believe that you’re fucking him—in his kitchen—when, really, you should be spending your afternoon trying to get your A/C unit fixed. Because that’s the only reason you left your house, today. 

He pushes into you—filling your cunt nicely—and you can’t help hastening your movements at the first ounce of touch. Because you’re growing impatient now. He worked you to an—almost—premature release, and now he has to let you have it. 

Joel grips firmly onto the flesh of your thighs, pushing and pulling you into him as his cock spears you open—rutting into you like a mad man that hasn’t felt the warmth of a pussy since the dawn of time. But it’s been three months since Joel Miller got to dive into a woman—fingers first—and he’s determined to get every last ounce of pleasure out of you. 

“How does it feel, pretty girl? How does my cock feel, pounding into you?” He asks, knowing that you won’t be able to formulate a verbal response. Joel writhes above you when your walls start to clamp down around him, giving him the answer that he craves. 

He hums his approval—hammering into your cunt—letting his knees hit against the island as he doesn’t miss a beat. Joel pulls down the neckline of your dress and exposes the supple flesh of your breasts, immediately taking your right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He massages pebbled skin, eliciting a string of broken moans from the deepest fissures of your chest. 

“So beautiful.” He praises, urging you to moan louder. Joel’s cock stutters at the sound. He can feel his release looming and, though he hates the thought of finishing after not even a whole five minutes of driving into you, he knows that prolonging is no longer an option. 

“Joel—I’m—gonna—“

“I know, darlin’.” He reassures, still relentlessly fucking into you. Still hitting you hilt-deep, and fighting against the fluttering walls around him. “You just let it go when you’re ready.”

And just from that—the way that his velvety tone oozes consolation—you find yourself unwillingly unraveling beneath your sexy older neighbor, giving your entire self to him on a random Saturday afternoon. 

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me.” Joel coaxes you through your orgasm, praising your movements and the way you shamelessly coat his cock with your sweetness that he can’t help but taste. He moans around his finger, letting his movements hinder slightly as he works toward his own release. 

But watching you—how the sensitivity is consuming you and making even the slightest touch the most overstimulating thing in the entire fucking world—is enough to drive him to the edge. 

“Give it to me, Joel. Fill me up right here.” You brandish the man whose prick is threatening to spill inside of your cunt. 

He ruts into you for a few moments more, before his spend is exploding into you like the most erotic of fireworks, and threads of cum paint your walls, thighs, and clit as he pulls out and rubs his head along your warmth one last time. 

Joel collapses into your chest, sticky and dripping lust. 

“That was amazing.” You say through bated breaths, panting like a fucking dog. 

“Bet you didn’t think an old guy could fuck that good, huh?”

Your head shakes and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. 

“Think we’ll have to make a thing of this, don’t you?”

Without hesitation, you’re nodding at him. Your arms lazily drape over Joel’s shoulders, and he pecks kisses along your neck and chest. “Absolutely. I’ll never be able to fuck a man my own age, now…”

For the first time since forcing his way onto this street, Joel Miller feels like he didn’t make a mistake moving back to Austin. 

[sammyluvr]

angel!reader heacanons — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, reader really really loves cats, sort of naive/super adorable reader, little bit of disillusionment, not proofread, 2.4K words. requested !

prompt : simply just sam x angel!reader <3

✶.◟ sometimes, sam still thinks about how disappointing it was to find out the reality of heaven and angels and god

✶.◟ of course, there’s the occasionally kind angel, and of course, there’s cas

✶.◟ but when you come along, he’s certainly still suspicious of you and your intentions

✶.◟ you’ve never been to earth before, and that often means a firm indoctrination in the skewed perspective of many angels

✶.◟ cas didn’t know much about you when you came along, just that you’re a low ranking angel whom he’s never heard anything bad about

✶.◟ you’re there on orders, of course, and it doesn’t take long before you run into cas and the winchesters

✶.◟ the encounter isn’t necessarily pleasant, as heaven usually isn’t working in tandem with the brothers

✶.◟ but it’s not to unpleasant either; the shorter seems sort of rude to you, you don’t have the best impression of castiel based on heaven’s word, and the third isn’t thrilled to see you either

✶.◟ but you’re not unkind, just blunt and maybe a little awkward like all angels who are unused to the human way of speaking

✶.◟ so they don’t jump to judge or hurt you, or at least, sam doesn’t

✶.◟ he gets dean to back down and listen to you when the elder gets upset about something you say regarding heaven

✶.◟ it’s stange to you, these humans that know of heaven and angels but don’t seem to care for them much

✶.◟ you thought humans found comfort in the thought of you, but these ones don’t seem to like the real thing and that intrigues you

✶.◟ in fact, now that you’re here on earth, everything intrigues you

✶.◟ kindness and lying and holding hands and eating and falling asleep

✶.◟ stray cats and crispy leaves on the ground that make a nice sound against the concrete when it’s windy

✶.◟ then next time you meet cas and the boys, you ask these questions that make them think you might not be so bad, that they might be able to get through to you

✶.◟ you only ask them because your superior angels won’t answer, and you can’t really ask regular humans

✶.◟ it’s sweet, the way you interrupt the tense conversation, seeking permission to ask them a few questions about humans

✶.◟ sam sees your earnesty and says of course

✶.◟ why don’t humans like rain? we don’t have it in heaven, and i find it so pleasant to experience.

✶.◟ and, how does one procure a pet cat? i want one.

✶.◟ and also, why don’t you like angels? the others won’t answer any of my questions.

✶.◟ they answer the last question first, and your concern grows

✶.◟ you understand prioritizing the orders one receives from heaven, but despite lacking a natural empathy as an angel, you don’t carry the disdain for humans that many angels too

✶.◟ and that makes you confused over the actions of angels that cas and the brothers describe to you

✶.◟ and it leaves you much more open minded, much more sympathetic; cas doesn’t seem nearly as bad as other angels describe him, he’s generally kind and passionate

✶.◟ the brothers don’t seem to bad to you either, especially sam

✶.◟ he’s nice to you and appeals to what cas says are your better senses, your kinder senses

✶.◟ to you, kind seems like a good thing, and the way that angels generally don’t care for individual humans seems opposing to your purpose as their protectors

✶.◟ so, as conflicted as you feel about it, you lend help to cas when he calls upon you

✶.◟ and one day, you lend a hand to sam. just sam

✶.◟ he prays to you, injured but trying to sound dignified still; cas won’t answer, and dean’s too far

✶.◟ he’s unsure that you’ll answer, but you do, and readily

✶.◟ he’s barely said your name, barely explained the situation before there’s a flutter of wings, then you

✶.◟ it doesn’t take much effort on your part to deal with whatever monsters he was fighting, then you kneel at his side and heal his wounds without a second thought

✶.◟ he thanks you, and you follow him to his motel, unaware that he didn’t really invite you

✶.◟ he certainly doesn’t tell you to go, though

✶.◟ it’s just that he never answered your questions about rain or cats, and honestly you have so many more

✶.◟ he stays up almost all night explaining everything he can to you, as best as he can, until he yawns and you remember that humans need sleep

✶.◟ so you turn off the lights and send him to bed before settling onto the couch and grabbing a spare book

✶.◟ “may i read this?” you ask while he’s brushing his teeth

✶.◟ “of course,” he says, taking a few moments to study your form, already intently studying the first page

✶.◟ “are you staying here?” he asks, voice muffled around the toothbrush

✶.◟ “yes. is that alright?”

✶.◟ he nods, “sure. you don’t have somewhere else to be, though?”

✶.◟ you think he sounds funny with a mouth full of toothpaste and spit

✶.◟ “not anymore,” you answer simply, “i think i’ll be like cas.”

✶.◟ sam smiles, unbeknownst to you because you’ve already resumed reading this book, it’s fiction, and fascinating to you

✶.◟ when sam wakes, you’re still on the couch, reading a new book, and the second you hear him stir you turn around in the couch, leaning over the cushions to watch him

✶.◟ “sam?” you ask with no regard to the fact that he’s barely just opened his eyes, then rattle off several questions about the content of the books you’ve been reading all night

✶.◟ the poor man barely catches any of it, stretching and groaning before trying to answer something in a slightly coherent way

✶.◟ but what he says to you doesn’t make much sense, nor does it really apply to any of the seven questions you’ve asked

✶.◟ you scrunch up your nose and suddenly sam thinks that you’re very cute

✶.◟ he tells you he’s too disoriented to answer, but that he’ll tell you what he thinks properly after getting up and having a cup of coffee

✶.◟ sam shows you your first coffee shop, which you’re decently delighted with, though the dirty chai latte he’s ordered for you tastes like nothing but molecules to you, as per usual

✶.◟ but he keeps his promise, telling you everything he can about the things in the books that confused you or made you curious

✶.◟ it’s all why would she lie to them or why do you humans… and sam finds himself explaining deeply some of the most complicated parts of the human condition to you

✶.◟ you find it all a bit strange, but a bit endearing too

✶.◟ you’re blunt and don’t intend to be mean when you tell sam that it seems like cas is closer to dean, but you like him better

✶.◟ sam blushes a little, though he feels like he shouldn’t be surprised by your honesty

✶.◟ you become closer to all three of them in time, and grow to understand the nuances of humans better

✶.◟ you’re not quite as awkward, but sam thinks you still talk a little funny, and is quite endeared with it

✶.◟ he spends time explaining lots to you, sharing all of his knowledge of humans things, and listening intently when you share about your abundant knowledge of the divine and supernatural

✶.◟ it doesn’t take long at all to find that he really could talk to you all day and night

✶.◟ and though he’s careful with his heart, it doesn’t take long to fall for you either

✶.◟ you’ve quickly turned into a very genuine and empathetic angel, and sam admires you for it greatly

✶.◟ you still struggle with some things and some aspects of empathy, but to him you really do feel good

✶.◟ you feel like what an angel should be, at least in this messed up world

✶.◟ and he’s hesitant; you’ll live practically forever unless you get killed, and it certainly scares him that you can be killed, he scared of anyone he loves dying… he’s scared that everyone he loves will die because of it

✶.◟ and you don’t know too well about love, but you figure out that you have it

✶.◟ for many things, like rain and cats and books and sam

✶.◟ sam likes to indulge the things that you love

✶.◟ he shares his favorite books with you and shows you how to use the internet

✶.◟ one day he wakes to you on his computer, a wide smile on your face and soft cooing escaping your lips

✶.◟ when you sense his presence, you look up at him from your seat with the widest, most excited eyes and he nearly melts into the floor

✶.◟ “did you know that you can look at endless pictures of cats on this computer?” you ask him

✶.◟ he says yes, and that you can look at them on any computer, and that you can watch videos too

✶.◟ he almost regrets telling you that, because now you’re constantly approaching him with cat videos you found in your free time

✶.◟ but he’d never regret doing something that makes you smile so often, so he doesn’t complain

✶.◟ instead, he researches about cats and all the other earthly things that interest you in his free time so he can tell you random facts about them

✶.◟ and for a being who’s been alive for so long and knows so much, you find it beautiful that there’s so much more to learn on earth

✶.◟ and sam loves your thirst for knowledge, he loves being the person you always ask about things first

✶.◟ he feels proud to tell you the things he does know, and grateful that you also ask questions that make him really think or that he doesn’t know the answer to yet

✶.◟ you’ve also taken to stealing his phone to take pictures

✶.◟ you have an incredible memory, but the internet has made you keen on images

✶.◟ it of course started when you saw a stray cat and wished aloud to him that you could take a picture like the ones you look at on his computer

✶.◟ and he gladly informs you that you can, showing you how to use his camera

✶.◟ his camera roll ends up filled with every little thing one could think of; so many cats and clouds and sunsets and buildings and people you see on the street, plants and trees and bugs, and apparently, him

✶.◟ you keep taking pictures of him, and it makes him shy

✶.◟ he asks why and you tell him it’s because you take pictures of all the things you like, all the things you think are pretty

✶.◟ sure, there’s photos of dean and cas sprinkled in, but you must like sam a lot and find him very pretty to have taken so many pictures of him

✶.◟ he blushes and says you should take pictures of yourself too

✶.◟ you wonder if he’s implying that he thinks you’re pretty, but you’re not really sure; the sentiment ends up flying over your head like many of his attempts at flirting, but he always finds it as endearing as it is frustrating, so he can’t complain much

✶.◟ you do take photos of yourself like he’s suggested, only for that reason, though you’re not really sure how and most of them look awkward or generally unsuccessful in actually capturing your whole face with the camera

✶.◟ sam doesn’t show you how to use the front camera for a long while because he likes the silly photos of you

✶.◟ eventually, you find it yourself, and sam’s relieved that you still look awkward in your selfies

✶.◟ most likely, you end up taking up all of his storage, but he doesn’t have the heart to delete anything, so he downloads them onto his computer and saves them there (he’s self indulgent and keeps much more of the pictures of you than he really needs)

✶.◟ then he buys you a simple camera of your own, and ends up missing all the times you ask to borrow his phone to take a picture of the clouds in the sky

✶.◟ that always made him stop and look more, see the world and its beauty through your eyes

✶.◟ so instead, he looks for things you might like when you’re apart and takes pictures to show you when he sees you next

✶.◟ there’s also probably a time where you accidentally took his phone with you somewhere, and he has to pray to you to get it back

✶.◟ sam also likes to pray to you, though

✶.◟ it’s infinitely comforting that he can talk to you wherever you are and know that you’ll hear him

✶.◟ and he tends to miss you a lot, so he likes to at least have one way to feel close to you, even if you can’t always visit him right then or even reply at all 

✶.◟ but of all the things that sam teaches you, of all the things that he’s the first one to show you, it’s the love that his most favorite

✶.◟ one day you ask about hand holding; you’ve seen lots of humans do it, and you’re curious

✶.◟ why do you do it? is it nice? you understand that it’s an expression of affection, but you want to know more

✶.◟ can i hold your hand?

✶.◟ when he says yes, and looks into your eyes while he takes your hand into his, you very easily understand that yes, it’s nice. it’s lovely. it’s perfect. and you’d like to do it with sam all of the time

✶.◟ much more comes after that; you want to feel all of the ways that people express affection; hugs and sweet words and kisses and heads on shoulders. playing with hair and saying i love you

✶.◟ sam shows it all to you

[azrielsdove]

I had the idea late at night so idk if you don’t want to write that, i understand haha

Reader and azriel are mates and have been for a while, nesta and elain were made and feyre and rhys asked cassian and azriel to look after them. Reader was okay with it but elain showed her a different side then the others, where she is rude and is telling her az will be hers, reader tried to bring it up in private but no one believed her because elain is so nice in front of everyone. Elain starts to sit in readers place and stands next to az, so reader isn’t even going out anymore. Az has a lot of other missions as well and tells reader that he only loves her and elain means nothing to him, maybe elain overheard that. After a mission az gives rhys his reports and then fell asleep on the couch, elain lays down next to him but he is so out that he doesn’t even feel her, reader wants to see after az and sees that, when she is trying to leave, rhys finds her and she shows him everything that happened even the parts where elain was rude, reader then leaves for awhile to get away from everything and azriel just loses it. You could add more angst if you want but i would love for a happy end with az and reader maybe where is is also pregnant?

The Other Woman: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Spiraling thoughts

***

Elain Archeron was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

You understood the she had gone through incomprehensible trauma along with her sister, and you understood why Rhys would appoint Azriel and Cassian to help them. You had no issue allowing your mate to help the poor girl come back to life, accepting her new fate. No, that was not the problem.

The problem was that she was a nasty, two-faced, bitch.

The first time it happened you were completely taken aback, shocked by the words that had come from the otherwise soft-spoken female.

“He’s going to be mine, you know.”

You had stilled your movements, turning slowly to see her peeking out from the library doors. “Excuse me?” You asked, certain you had misunderstood.

She gave a sneering smile. “Azriel. I’m going to make him mine.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that had burst from you. “Okay then,” you said, moving to continue walking. You made a note to bring it up to your mate later, warn him that Elain may have gotten too attached.

Unfortunately the following days had been hectic, Azriel was sent on a dangerous mission for Rhys. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him, and with the state he came back in you had no interest in adding anything else to his plate.

It happened again a few days later.

“Why would he stay with you when i’m here?” She asked, looking you up and down.

You raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry? What are you on about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Azriel, obviously. Why would he need you any longer? I’m certain I can satisfy him miles better than you can.”

“Mhm,” you mused, nodding at her wild claims. “Do you understand the mating bond?”

She made a noise of annoyance, crossing her arms in front of her. “I have a mate, and I can’t stand him. That ‘bond’ means nothing to me.”

“It means something to Az,” you said, staring her down. “What has he done that makes you think he’s interested?”

She gave a pretty smile, smoothing the skirts of her dress. “Feyre has Rhys, Nesta has Cassian. It only makes sense, does it not? Three sisters, three brothers. He’s smart enough to have already figured it out. The only thing standing in our way is you.”

You hummed at her delusions, turning to leave the room. “Have a nice night, Elain,” you said, acting as if she had just been talking about the weather. You refused to give her the satisfaction of upsetting you.

Some nights later you were sitting with Azriel as he caught up with his brothers, lost in thought while you sipped your wine. You heard a faint call of your name, turning to meet the concerned eyes of your husband. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, scanning you over for anything amiss.

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“You’re thinking pretty hard there. Az was calling your name for ages,” Cassian laughed, but his eyes showed the same concern. You sighed, taking a bigger drink of your wine.

“I’ve just been dealing with something, that’s all,” you said, swirling the liquid in your glass nonchalantly. Azriel watched you closely, trying to read what was wrong.

“You can always tell us,” Rhys offered, tipping his glass your way.

You took a deep breath, looking down at your hands. “Have any of you ever had any issues with Elain?”

Three blank stares met yours.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” you muttered into your wine.

“What kind of problems?” Azriel pressed, worry in his expression.

“She’s just been, a little….rude to me.”

Silence.

And then loud laughter.

“Elain?” Cassian gasped out, pounding on the table. “Quiet, docile, Elain? Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with Nesta?” You shot him a nasty look, Rhys’ own chuckle drawing your attention to him.

“How has she been rude?” He asked, not hiding the smile on his face.

You looked down at the ground, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “Maybe i’m just reading into it. I thought she was jealous…that she was into Az.” You regretted even bringing the topic up as Cassian and Rhys broke out in more laughter.

“No way! Elain has a mate, remember? Why would she go after a married male?” You nodded at Cassian, acknowledging his words.

“Yea, i’m sure i’m just misunderstanding,” you mumbled, draining your glass in an instant. You stood, heading for the door.

“Aw now, we didn’t mean anything bad! It’s just such a shock that Elain would be trying to get Az!” Rhys called out behind you, trying to convince you to stay.

You looked back, eyes connecting with Azriel’s. “I’ll be up shortly,” he said, his unspoken words hanging in the air. He was not going to let his brothers get away with laughing at you. You gave him a small smile and continued out to your room, leaving him to deal with them.

***

Elain only grew worse after that. She started openly flirting with Azriel, laughing at anything he said and placing her hand playfully on his arm. He always pulled away from her, moving to stand by your side as a silent “Stop”.

She didn’t care.

Azriel spent the nights trying to convince you that Elain didn’t matter to him, that you were the only one for him. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but the comments she made when no one else could hear were getting to you.

“You’re too ugly for him.”

“Don’t you think he would want someone younger? Are you even able to give him children at your ancient age?”

“I know he wants me. He looks at me when you aren’t paying attention.”

“You’re pathetic, you know. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can stand proudly at his side.”

Her words swam around your head, eating away at you. You were sinking down into yourself, drowning in self-doubt. What if she was right? What if Azriel really did deserve better?

You began spending more time locked away in your room, an attempt to avoid Elain’s nasty comments. You had no desire to see her throw herself at Azriel, and you didn’t think you could handle much more of her taunting. A rational part of you knew that this was ridiculous, your husband would never give her a second look. Another part of you was embarrassed that this young girl was so good at getting into your head, that she had rendered you a shell of yourself. The largest part of you, unfortunately, bought in to all she said and hid away in shame.

Azriel was getting progressively more worried about you.

“My love,” he murmured, stroking his hand through your hair as he held you close. “I have half a mind to tell Rhys to send her somewhere else. Why does she trouble you so?” He couldn’t understand how Elain had torn down his perfect wife, leaving this ghost in her place.

You buried your face farther into his chest, wishing you could just disappear. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

He sighed and held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You are the stars in the sky, the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze under my wings. Nothing, and no one, is comparable to you. Especially not Elain Archeron. You are all there is for me, you are my everything. My heart and my soul. She is nothing to me.”

Tears fell from your eyes and his words prompted you to look up, the love shining on his face washing over you. “I know, Az. I know it’s foolish to allow her to make me doubt us.” You ducked your head down, ashamed. “Though sometimes I still wonder if you should’ve been mated to someone more powerful.”

Azriel clicked his tongue at your age-old concern, a conversation the two of you had gone over many times. “You know as well as I do that that’s not true. You were the one cauldron-made for me. We were sworn to each other from the day of our creation. Do not ever forget that.” He slipped a hand under your chin, bringing you back up to look at him. He studied your face like it was a painting, like he needed to memorize everything he saw. His thumb came up and brushed away your tears as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “Elain will never be what you are.” He kissed you again and again, swallowing your fears with his adoration.

Neither of you noticed the form of the female standing outside the slightly open door.

***

Azriel was tired, shuffling through the house after yet another mission. He hated that he had been gone so often recently, especially with the issues you’ve been having with Elain. He was sick with worry over the whole situation, and was growing aggravated with Rhys’ lack of action. Even when Azriel had spoken to his brother himself, the High Lord still struggled to believe his quiet sister-in-law was being so horrible. Az even went to Feyre, who got upset that he would accuse her sister of such things.

He ran a hand over his face, making his way to the library to find you. He was disheartened when he opened the doors and found you weren’t there. He took a seat on one of the leather couches, deciding to just wait for you there. Azriel knew that you often came around this time to browse the books, and he was too tired to continue searching for you. He gave a gentle tug on the bond to alert you that he was home before tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

***

Elain was positively delighted to find the sleeping form of the Shadowsinger. She looked around quickly to make sure no one saw as she gently closed the doors to the library behind her. She wasted no time in curling up next to him on the couch, resting her head in his lap. She slowly dragged his arm over her waist, a wicked smile coming across her face. She knew you would be coming to find him, and what a sight you would see when you did.

***

The second Cassian dropped you at the House of Wind you were practically running through the halls. When you had felt the tug that meant Azriel was back, you demanded Cass bring you home in the middle of lunch. He grumbled about not being done as you packaged the food up for him, pulling him from the little restaurant. You were in much better spirits today, Elain hadn’t approached you in days. When Cass suggested going down to Velaris to eat you had jumped at the opportunity, excited to be in the happy bustle of people who lived there.

You slid to a stop in front of the library, one of his shadows twisting around your legs. “Hello,” you cooed, a smile on your face. The shadow started moving faster, almost as if it were upset. Worry took over your heart then, concern that Azriel had gotten hurt.

You threw open the library doors and stopped dead in your tracks. There, on the couch, was Azriel. Uninjured, asleep.

And curled up on his lap was Elain.

You stood there in pure horror, not noticing Cassian coming up behind you. “What?” He said, taking in the sight in front of you. You didn’t realize you were shaking in rage until he put his hands on your arms, trying to pull you away.

“Get off of me,” you ground out, ripping your arms out of his grasp. Cassian called your name, trying to stop the explosion that was about to happen. Your vision was red, the anger and pain of seeing the two of them cuddled up like lovers too much to handle. “I’m going to kill them.”

“You will not,” came a powerful voice, Rhys stepping in front of you. “My office. Now.” You wanted to spit at his feet and tell him to shove off, but one look at his eyes told you that wouldn’t end well. You huffed, allowing him to lead you away.

Unnoticed on the couch, Elain smiled.

***

“Why would you stop me?” You practically yelled, pacing back and forth in front of Rhys.

“You can’t murder my brother and sister-in-law in their sleep.” He said, as if this was a regular occurrence.

“That filthy bitch,” you swore, turning to face Rhys head on. “I tried to tell you who she truly was, and no one listened.” You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Elain has never showed signs of what you spoke of. As horrible as it is, could it be that Azriel was a part of this?” He regretted the words before he was even done saying them.

“Why do you refuse to believe that she could be playing a dirty game behind your back? Behind everyone’s back? I had no reason to make up lies about her, Rhysand,” you spat out, power crackling at your fingertips.

He stood, coming to stand by your side. He pulled your hands into his, looking down at your glowing fingertips. “Show me,” he said, voice hardly above a whisper. You faltered, power fading away. You were embarrassed to let him see how badly she had affected you, but you knew he would not believe you otherwise.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking up into his eyes. You felt the strange sensation of Rhys entering your mind, pulling through all your memories with Elain. He listened to all the nasty things she said when no one else could hear, and felt the pain she caused you. When he was done he looked ashamed of himself, upset that he had brushed you off.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hands from yours. “I should have trusted you.”

You nodded. “Yea, you should have.” Rhys looked at the ground, his hands in his pockets. “I want to go away for a while. Anywhere. I can’t stand to be around her any longer, and I certainly have no interest in speaking to him.” You couldn’t even say your mates name, the hurt cutting too deep in your chest.

“As you wish,” Rhys said, “I’ll meet you on the balcony in an hour.”

***

Azriel woke with a start. Something was very, very wrong. Starting with the female asleep next to him.

He didn’t stop himself from jumping up, nearly knocking her to the floor. Not that he cared. “What are you doing?!” He hissed between his teeth, angry that she would pull a stunt like this.

Elain smiled up at him prettily, stretching as if she had been asleep for hours. “I was just sleeping, Azriel.” He hated the way she spoke his name, as if it were a sensual demand. “Your sweet little mate didn’t come to you, did she?” She fake pouted, tucking a hand under her chin.

Azriel’s eyes flared, his shadows whipping through the room. He stepped closer to her, hauling her to her feet with a strong grip on her arm. “This game you’re playing is done. Speak to me or my wife again, and I will make sure it’s the last thing you do.” He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty at the fear in her eyes as he strode from the room, searching for you.

***

Rhys had taken you out to the cabin at your request. You wanted to be somewhere alone, but safe. “What should I tell him?” He asked as he headed to leave.

“Tell him to figure out what he wants before it’s too late.” Rhys nodded, looking you over once more. “If you need anything, i’m just a call away,” he quipped, tapping the side of his head before winnowing out of sight.

You sighed, sinking down into the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. You stared into the burning flames for what felt like hours, lost in your own mind. Azriel wouldn’t have lied to you, would he? Your mate has always been an honest male, had always loved you with everything he had. You found it hard to believe that he was messing around with Elain behind your back, regardless of what you saw. You knew how nasty she could be, and wouldn’t put it past her to pull something like this.

At the same time, the image of his arm draped lovingly around her was burned into your brain. You saw it over and over again, how well they complemented each other. The strong, dark Shadowsinger and the quiet, warm Archeron sister. Had the cauldron made a mistake? You couldn’t help but remember her words, ‘three brothers and three sisters.’ You and Azriel were mated decades before she was born, it could be plausible that the cauldron had made a mistake.

Yet the cauldron had also given Elain her own mate. It wouldn’t mess up twice, would it? Unless the cauldron had meant for you and Lucien to be mated, and Elain with Azriel. Perhaps something got crossed over and the pairings were mixed. Could all your years of joy and love with Azriel be wrong? You never felt anything was awry when you were with him, always feeling like you were truly meant to be.

You sighed and wrapped a blanket tight around you, willing it to keep away the lonely cold. You couldn’t imagine a life without Azriel by your side, and you didn’t know what you would do if that’s what he wanted.

***

“Where is she?!” Azriel bellowed through the halls of the House, shadows infiltrating every room and hallway. Rhys and Cass stood in front of him, trying to calm their brother. “I know you know! What kind of a game are you playing, hiding my own mate from me?!” He was angrier than he had ever been, angry at himself, at Elain, at Rhys. How could he have let Elain play him like that?

“I won’t tell you anything until you’ve calmed down,” Rhys stated, power rising to match Azriel’s.

“Calmed down? You expect me to calm down when that witch has been ruining my mates life, and now she’s disappeared and no one will tell me where she went?!” Azriel was seething, pacing angrily in the hall.

“I’d watch how you speak about my sister, Azriel.” He whirled around to see Feyre, eyes cool as she took in his agitated form.

“Your sister is a disgusting, selfish, spoiled brat! Someone tell me where my mate is before I tear this city apart!” He didn’t care that he was yelling at his High Lady, at his High Lord and brother. All he could see was red, and he was half a second away from leaving the House and looking for her on his own.

“Enough, Azriel,” Rhys commanded, bringing attention back to him. “Feyre, unfortunately it does seem true that Elain has been acting…undesirably.” There was a silence for a moment, her eyes widening as he shared the memories you showed him.

“Oh, Az,” she soothed, taking a step closer and reaching a hand out for him.

“Don’t touch me!” He shouted, pulling back from her. “I need to know where she is. I have to explain that what she saw was a dirty trick.” The anger was fading from his voice, despair taking over. What if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore? He wouldn’t be able to handle losing you over this.

“Az,” Rhys started, voice calm. “She asked to go away. You’re going to have to give her time to process what has happened.” He took a step towards his brother. “I am sorry I didn’t listen before. She showed me her memories, of everything Elain had said. She will be dealt with, I promise you. I should have never let it get this bad.”

Azriel knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but that didn’t stop him from lashing out. “Yea, you should’ve listened. When has she ever lied to you, Rhysand?” He shook his head. “Let me know if she contacts you,” was the last thing he said before storming off towards your shared room.

***

Some time had passed since you left Velaris, and the loneliness was threatening to overtake you. You had felt some tugs on the bond once Azriel realized you were gone, and had shut him out. You didn’t need him bothering you as you tried to figure out what to do. After pondering for days, you still had no idea what was true or not. You felt like you were losing your grip on reality, that you were sinking down into a pit of your own creation. You’d hardly moved from the couch since you arrived, staring into the endless flames.

A knock at the door startled you, but you no longer had the energy to truly care. You turned your head slowly to see Rhys walk in, eyes full of worry. “Have you moved at all?” He asked, taking in that the food he had left was untouched.

You shrugged.

Rhys came and sat next to you on the couch, looking you over. “He’s losing it without you,” he said softly, unsure what kind of mental state you were in.

Your eyes moved from the fire to him, stare blank. “I think you should come home. Being out here alone isn’t doing you any good. You’re withering away to nothing.”

Good. You’d rather disappear than live with the idea of Azriel and Elain. Rhys seemed to read this on your face, gingerly grabbing one of your hands in his own. “She’s been removed from the House. She’s not allowed out without Feyre or myself with her. She won’t hurt you anymore.”

You blinked. “What does Azriel think?” You asked, voice hoarse from no use.

“Az couldn’t care less about her. He’s worried about you.” There was a pleading in his eyes, begging you to come back with him.

“What if she was supposed to be cauldron-made for him?” Your voice was quiet, broken. You could feel the pain of your words as they hit Rhys, the shame of having ignored your attempts at warning him how Elain truly was.

“She isn’t. Even if you and Azriel were not mates, I have never met two people more suited for each other than you. It is clear that the love you hold is a special thing, something most won’t ever experience.” He tugs your hand closer. “Please. Come home.”

You didn’t know Rhys to lie to you, and your heart longed for Azriel. You couldn’t hide from this forever, regardless of how it turned out. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to pull you to your feet and winnow you back to Velaris.

***

Azriel was waiting when Rhys flew you back to the House, eyes wide as he took in the state of you. When Rhys set you down you immediately stumbled, head light from the lack of eating and sleeping. Azriel caught you before you could hit the ground, an alarmed gaze shooting to Rhys. “We will talk later,” he said, “take her to your room. I’ll send for Madja to check her over soon.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and carried you to your room, tucking you into the bed. You sunk into the familiar smell of him, trying to force the spinning in your head to disappear. “My love,” Azriel murmured, brushing hair out of your face. “What have I done?”

You opened your eyes and took him in. Truthfully, he didn’t look much better than you. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and his face was unusually gaunt. The stress of this situation had clearly taken its toll on the both of you.

“Are you in love with her?” You asked, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Azriel looked at you as if you had grown two heads.

“I’m sorry? In love with Elain? In hate with her is more like it.” You couldn’t deny the acid that dripped from his words, the anger the permeated the room.

“I saw you two. Asleep in the library.”

He scoffed. “I fell asleep waiting for you. She took it upon herself to take advantage of the situation.” He looked down at his hands, silver lining his eyes. “I never should have let it go this far.”

You sat up slowly, reaching out for him. Azriel moved quickly, gently laying you back down as he laid beside you. “Easy, my love. Your body is weak.” You hadn’t realized how bad you had gotten during your time at the cabin, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick.

“I’m so sorry, Az. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t handle it,” you sobbed, not even noticing the tears that had started falling.

“No, no. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I should’ve fought harder against her, tried harder to get Rhys to listen.” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb through your tears. You curled into his touch, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest.

You cried until your head was pounding, Azriel whispering sweet nothings into your ears. “I love you. Only you.” Your tears slowly stopped, until you felt confident enough to look up at him.

“I love you. I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you said, leaning up to kiss him.

A knock sounded at the door. Azriel jumped up to get it, letting Madja into the room. She began checking you over, tsking at the state of you. “I’ll give you something for dehydration, and you’ll need to start introducing food again. Start with soup, and work your way up. I have a sleep aid as well, I recommend you take it promptly.” She ran her hands over your arms and legs, ensuring all your bones were still in good shape. She did the same over your head, shoulders, and chest.

“Your heart sounds good, and your lungs are working well. You were lucky the High Lord came when he did, much more of letting yourself wither away and you’d have a significantly harder recovery ahead of you,” she chided, continuing her check of your body. Her hands swept over your abdomen before she paused, bringing them back up. “Ah,” she murmured, Azriel immediately on guard.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” He asked, gripping your hand a tad too tightly.

Madja shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong.” She looked up at you and cocked her head. “You are a lucky girl, you know. Not many pregnant fae could have refused food and drink for that long and still kept a reasonably healthy body and fetus.”

You stared at her.

She stared back.

Azriel stared at the both of you.

“What?” You finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

She smiled, pressing her hands against your abdomen again. “A baby. Healthy, winged, i’d say 12 or so weeks along?” 12 weeks? You did the math in your head, realizing with a start that around 12 weeks ago Elain started terrorizing you. That shortly after that her words began affecting you worse and worse, that you couldn’t understand why she was able to make you so upset.

Now you knew.

“A baby,” Azriel whispered, looking at you. Madja took that as her cue to leave, placing the medicine on your nightstand and slipping from the room. He pulled you into his arms, inhaling your scent deeply. Sure enough, there it was. A lighter, fresh scent hidden under yours. He must have missed it throughout the recent stress and his back-to-back missions.

“A baby,” you whispered back, more tears threatening to fall. “Our baby.”

You saw tears of his own in Azriel’s eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, whispering “baby” in between each kiss.

The ordeal with Elain behind you, you allowed yourself to slip off into sleep, dreams of your future with Azriel and your child playing in your mind.

***

I’m so sorry this took so long for me to finish! I got into a bit of a writing rut, but I hope this was what you wanted. Thank you so much for your request! <3

[ginax0916]

°‧★ 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ★‧°

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

Genre: Angst & fluff

Synopsis: What happens when they’re both jealous with feelings for each other, but won’t admit it?

(It starts off with texts but it’s a regular story after)

༺☆༻

༺☆༻

Y/n pov:

Why does he care so much? It’s not even like we’re dating. Plus he brings girls over all the time why’s it such a big deal that I have a date. It’s like he’s purposely saying all these bad things about him so I’ll cancel the date. I truly don’t get what he means, Jason is a nice guy every girl simps over him. Not to mention he’s captain of the football team. But I mean what can go wrong, we’re just going out to dinner then coming back to my place and there, done.

But part of me feels regret. I don’t know why but I feel regret for not listing to Matt now that Jason is only 5 minutes away. What if he’s right? What if he really is just putting an act on to get into my pants? No he would never. Matt’s just jealous and trying to scare me. After all we’re just roommates.

*knock knock*

Oh fuck. Jason’s here. Suddenly my nerves are increasing. My hands are sweaty and my dress is too tight. What the fuck do I do.

“Hey Jason”

“Hey pretty, you read to go?” He says. But for some reason it feels weird when he says it.

“Uh yea let me just grab my coat” I say as I walk to my bedroom and put it on. Before I walk out I see myself in the mirror. Is the dress too short? Too slutty? Suddenly I’m overthinking everything.

“Ok let’s go” I saw as I walk back to him.

“You look beautiful by the way” Jason says. Yet it still feels weird.

“Thank you. You look good too” I say trying to convince myself that he does.

We get in the car and he starts driving, about 5 minutes into the car ride I feel his hand creep onto my knee. And it keeps moving up till it rests on my inner thigh. I wanna push his hand off but I don’t want to be rude.

“Is that fine?” He asks.

“Uh yea” I could’ve said fucking no.

The rest of the ride is filled with an awkward and uncomfortable silence.

The whole dinner was extremely awkward. We barely agreed on anything and he kept making weird comments about how good my body looked in the dress. I just wanted to be done with it and go home.

“You read to go?” Jason asked. Fuck yes I am.

“Yea let’s go” I say.

Gladly he payed for the dinner which was nice of him, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the night was extremely uncomfortable.

We get in the car and I expect him to turn it on but he doesn’t.

“Are you gonna turn it on?” I ask trying to sound as nice as possible.

“You look so pretty” He says as he puts his hand on my thigh, too far up for my liking.

“Oh uh thanks” I saw trying to move away from him.

“That dress makes you look so good” Jason mumbles as he gets closer to me.

“I bet it would look even better if it was on the floor”

“Wha-” I get cut off my his lips on mine.

“What the fuck” I raise my voice as I push him off of me.

“Come on don’t be a brat” He grabs my face and attempts to kiss me again.

“Get the fuck off me” I scream as I try to unbuckle my self.

“I said don’t be a fucking brat” Jason raises his voice as he grabs my body and tries to pull me over to his side of the car.

“I said get off me you jackass!” I scream and I push him hard enough so he lets go and I get out of the car.

As I’m walking away from the car I hear the engine start and before I can move away he drives by me speeding through the puddle that was on the ground, making it splash all over me.

“You’re fucking kidding”

I sit on the curve of the parking lot, soaking wet in disgusting water and pull out my phone to text the one person who warned me this was going to happen.

He’s gonna kill me.

I stay here where he told me freezing because of the water and my jacket is soaked so it’s not much use. But soon enough I see Matt’s car pull up in front of me.

“Oh baby what happened? Why are you soaking wet” Matt says the second he gets out of the car.

“You were right. I should’ve listened I’m sorry” I sniffle as I feel tears swell up in my eyes.

“Hey hey it’s ok don’t cry. You did nothing wrong” He says while wrapping his arms around me holding me close.

“But you warned me and I was bitch and didn’t listen” I start to cry, keeping my head on Matt’s chest.

“No you’re not a bitch. You just made a mistake and now you can learn from it yea? You didn’t know this was gonna happen don’t bring yourself down for it” He comforts me.

“Here put this on and I’ll take you home and then you can tell me everything that happened how does that sound?” Matt asks as he wraps his coat around me.

“Mhm yea” I nod.

“Come on let’s go sweets I don’t want you to get sick” He grabs my hand helping me get up and we get into the car.

Instead of there being an awkward silence, there’s a comforting silence.

I look over to Matt and I feel butterflies in my stomach. The way the moonlight shines through the window lighting his face up. The way his blue eyes reflect the stars in the sky. The way his jawline is so sharp and defined and his cheekbones more prominent than ever. The way his nose compliments his face oh so well. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about my roommate, it’s not right.

But what if I don’t wanna be just roommates with Matt anymore?

Should I make a part 2 for this or no??

[cranberrv]

enchanted

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston falls for the new girl

( a/n : i love this request sm!! reader is fem by the way, also not proofread also ooc! still cute tho! )

not many people wanted to move to tulsa, but for some people, it was their only option. that was the first similarity spotted between you and dallas.

of course, you and dallas were on different sides of the track, different chapters in a novel. you moved to tulsa for your fathers work, you were perfectly happy back at your old city, but you didn’t have a choice. dallas moved to tulsa to escape from the new york police.

you thought tulsa was bland. it was only your first week here, your first week emerced with all the other teenagers at school, but everyone here was grey. especially the east-side kids, the greasers. they were all broke and it looked like all the life was sucked out of them.

you, on the other hand, were fresh from los angeles, with a feminine flare to yourself and a genuine kindness that was rare in tulsa. even the rich kids were rude, but you were anything but.

it was the start of your second week of school, and your least favourite class was science. not because of the subject, it was just that the people in your class gave you dirty looks and the teacher had a voice that could put you to sleep. and your lab partner in the seat next to you had been away the entire time, leaving you to do projects alone.

today was supposed to be the exact same as usual. at the start of class, you walk in and sit down alone. the teacher does the attendance, and marks your mystery lab partner absent. today is independent work, finishing up a lab report and then doing a worksheet on protons and electrons. you want to fall asleep, it’s so boring. you’re listening to every silent conversation and looking out the window for a source of entertainment. you got your wish soon enough, as the door creaks open.

“hello,” your teacher greets to the boy that enters the room. “you are?”

“dallas winston,” he answers, throwing his burnt-out cigarette in the trash.

your teacher nods her head. “ah, you’re dallas winston,” the voice is slow as she pieces it together. you wonder why the words are said in such distaste.

you’ve given up on your work, watching dallas winston. he looks like an east-side kid, his hair is a bit messy and he radiates confidence. he certainly puts out an energy unlike anyone in this school.

they talk for a bit longer, the teacher obviously telling him it’s not okay to skip class. dallas tries to argue back for a little bit, but eventually gives up and holds his hands up in mock-surrender. the teacher takes a breath then points to you, giving him a worksheet and telling him to go sit next to you. he follows the teachers finger, and he tilts his head when he looks at you, trying to figure out if he knows you or not. his eyes light up a bit when you make eye contact with him. you like the way he looks at you.

dallas walks over, and sits next to you. there’s a few moments of silence as he gets himself settled. spitting out his gum, taking off his leather jacket, and finally landing his eyes on his sheet. he reads over the questions, and realizes has no idea how to do any of this. “you got a pencil?” he asks you.

“yeah, in my pencil case, help yourself,” you answer, and he grabs your pencil case and sifts through it to find one.

he takes one out and hands it back. you say thank you, and he thinks it was unnecessary to be polite about a simple thing but doesn’t say anything. “mechanical, huh?” he says about the pencil, pushing on the bottom to get the lead out. “expensive. what, you a soc or somethin’?”

you look from your worksheet up at him. he has a nice jawline, you notice. “a what?” you ask. an innocent question in your eyes, but one that has a lot more meaning for dallas.

who the hell doesn’t know what a soc is? he stares at you for a second, eyebrows furrowing. not out of annoyance, but out of genuine confusion about why you don’t know about the class-status that built up the entire reputation of tulsa. you know what a greaser is, but not a soc. and you barely know what a greaser is, anyway. you’ve just been told to stay away.

“you know, a rich-kid. a west-side kid.” you still look confused, and he comes to the conclusion that you’re not from here. so when he notices the confused look in your eye, he changes the subject. “where ya from, sugar?”

“i just moved from los angeles,” you tell him. his eyes drift down to your cute lace pink top. he thinks it’s totally something that someone from LA would wear. there’s a speck of silence as he analyzes you, and you feel the need to break it.

“i shoulda guessed,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. you don’t know if he’s being mean or not. you hope he’s not mean.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean you look like you’re from hollywood or somethin’, with all the lace and the flashy bows and shit..” he’s poking at the lace lining your top. you can see him thinking about something while he’s looking at your lace. “christ, your lingerie collection must be insane, huh?”

there’s a blink of silence and a look of slight disbelief on your face. “what?”

“i’m messin’ with ya, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

“oh,” you say softly, cheeks going a bit hot.

“so,” he starts, switching the topic to a different note. “why’d ya move to fuckin’ tulsa?”

“my dad got a job here,” you explain, fiddling with your pencil in your hands. “why?”

“just curious,” he shrugs. “you know, most people don’t move to this hellhole.”

“you did,” you say, and he tilts his head. you think he’s looking at you because you’re just assuming things, and you’re probably wrong, so he’s judging you. “did you not?”

he cracks a smile. he wasn’t judging you, simply curious as to how you guessed he wasn’t from here. “yeah, i did, sugar,” he nods, leaning back in his seat. “how’d ya know?”

“your accent,” you explain. “very new yorker.”

“yeah? you like it?”

you mirror his smile. “yeah, i do.”

the class falls silent as the teacher insists everyone quiets down and focuses. dally's voice drops to a whisper when he responds, playfully pushing you away. “alright, miss hollywood, go do your work,” he teases. “gonna tell the teacher you’re distracting me,” he threatens, obviously playing around because he knows that he’s the one distracting you.

you smile and turn your head back to your sheet to finish it up. you begin peacefully working. dallas can’t help but stare at you as you do so. nibbling at your pencil while you’re thinking, constantly adjusting your top, brushing your hair out of your face every now and then, he notices it all. he can’t help it, he thinks you’re the sweetest person he’s ever seen.

you look up at him, feeling his intense gaze on you. you make eye contact and instantly turn away again, cheeks going pink like a tulip. why is he looking at you? do you have something on your face? you don’t know. you subconsiously wipe your cheek to make sure, and adjust your top again.

dallas finally looks away, and you take a breath and relax your shoulders. as much as he was acting sweet towards you, you could tell he had this rough edge that you should be worried about. but what truly worried you is the fact that his edge didn’t worry you. if anything, it lured you in. you wanted to learn everything about him. he was like the ocean, he was calm and beautiful but you had to swim out far and dive deep down to find out everything about him. and it felt like no one had, yet. he was a mystery. you liked that.

as you’re working, you hear the rip of lined paper beside you, then the scratch of a pencil. a few moments later, dallas hands you a piece of paper with a note on it.

“how do you do question 1?“ it reads.

you read the note and look up at him, smiling. you write down your answer, saying that he needs a calculator. you hand him yours, assuming correctly that he doesn’t own one.

he slides you another note a few seconds later. “it keeps saying weird shit on the calculator”

“what does it say?” you write back.

he takes longer than usual to write. you wait in anticipation. after what feels like forever (but was probably 15 seconds) he hands you another note. you read the numbers. you don’t understand how he got that answer. you read over it again, and then it clicks. it’s his phone number.

he’s looking at you as you read it. you look up at him and gently nod, putting his number in your pocket. you rip another piece of paper and write down, “i’ll call you.”

he reads it and writes back, and is about to hand it to you, until he quickly takes it back and adds something. then he hands it to you.

“good. (p.s. your little lace top is kinda cute)”

you read his little p.s. and smile to yourself, then to him. you mouth thank you to him. he mouths “anytime” back.

you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you and dallas winston say hello to each other in science class.

[sabertoothwalrus]

I’ve seen you post some labru stuff and I’m curious what your thoughts on it are. personally I don’t see it? I can buy Kabru having feelings for Laios, but I think Laios wouldn’t be interested in Kabru, so it makes me wonder why so many people ship them. (Tbh I feel like Kabru has more chemistry with Mithrun anyway)

Sorry if this ask sounds rude, I just genuinely don’t understand the appeal of the ship, but I want to understand and I trust your analysis of characters very much :] maybe there’s something I’m missing

I really like both ships, actually!

For labru, there’s sooooo much I could talk about. The inherent homoeroticism of being narrative foils. The inherent homoeroticism of being the king’s advisor. All of chapter 76. The fact that Kabru has mask upon mask upon mask, and Laios is the first person that made his facade absolutely crumble.

Kabru struggles with being genuine!!! Everything he says and does is so perfectly calculated, even when he sort of means it. But since Laios doesn’t get social cues, Kabru gets thrown for a loop.

I get so frustrated when people act like Kabru still hates Laios by the end of the manga!!!!! He killed those corpse retrievers for being corrupt, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill Laios. He has such a strong sense of justice, and knew that killing Laios would be a mistake. Because, after meeting him, he could tell he wasn’t actually evil. He’s strange, sure, but not evil.

Kabru DEFINITELY wants to be friends with Laios!! He was not lying about this!!!

But this last comic shows how much Laios wants to be friends with Kabru, too. He’s so nervous after calling Kabru his friend 😭 he doesn’t want to be presumptuous and fuck it up again.

Laios does show an interest in Kabru, at least when Laios thinks he’s interested in eating monsters too. Like,, what was up with THIS

Laios’s gaze is LINGERING. Plus, (this is before that bit at Thistle’s house when he forgets his name) he brings up Kabru when they first form their plan to eat Falin.

And maybe this is just because of my own personal experiences, but Laios reminds me a lot of my own girlfriend. I think they have a similar flavor of gay/aspec & autism combo where, had I not asked her out first, she probably never would have considered being interested in me. But she was very down when I did.

The tricky part about labru is more the political aspect. Regardless of whether you see Laios as aroace or not, he’s in a situation where he will probably get married. He had a fiancée before he was age 13, likely betrothed since he was a baby. He’s already comfortable with the idea of getting married because He’s Supposed To.

However, Laios is king, and could make gay marriage legal if he wanted to (He would probably do this for his sister and Marcille before considering it for himself ). But at the same time, I think Kabru would object to Laios making whatever policies he wants without considering the repercussions of how other kingdoms might react, especially when they’re just getting Melini off the ground and need lots of support from other countries. Laios and Kabru getting gay married anyway and dealing with the aftermath could make for a really compelling story.

I do think Kabru would be a good ruler. He’s already fit for it. He speaks a dozen languages, he knows people and their motivations, and likes politics. The manga already joked about Chilchuck’s daughters trying to marry a king, so it seems like noble blood isn’t too important, but Kabru’s foster family IS nobility. When it comes to heirs, I do like trans Kabru headcanons, but at the same time, I think it’d be cute if they adopt anyway. Kabru seems like he’d have strong feelings about adoption given,,, yknow.

The alternative version of labru to this is Laios gets straight married out of obligation, and Kabru is his mistress hdhdhshsj. I don’t know if I could see Laios doing that? or if Kabru would risk the scandal of being outed as Royal Advisor and Regent trying to seduce the king. It could go SO downhill. but maybe that would be fun.

NOW FOR KABUMISU.

I knew people shipped them, and I could see the basis for it while reading, but I wasn’t really sold on it until the very end. There’s something about “I had no desires left. I decided to create new desires, and one of them is you” that’s really charming.

There’s also something funny about “the demon ate my heterosexuality so I’m gay now”

I think it’s interesting that Kabru hates elves. He was raised by them, and he hates them. He hates feeling patronized by them. He made absolutely sure that elves wouldn’t take control over Melini, not just for his sake, but for Rin’s.

But Mithrun’s interactions with Kabru are founded on more mutual respect. Though, that’s not to say that Mithrun doesn’t still have his biases towards short lived races..

Where Laios doesn’t understand social cues, Mithrun does but just doesn’t care. For that reason, I think Kabru would enjoy spending time with Mithrun. It’d give him a break from his compulsion to calculate all of his social interactions. But at the same time, Kabru is the KING at bottling his emotions. Mithrun is blunt, but also doesn’t care enough to pry. If Kabru had anything bothering him, I could imagine him seeking Mithrun’s company to avoid thinking about it. Could make for a fun dynamic.

I do think it’s funny that Milsiril 1) took care of Mithrun for potentially 20 years and 2) is only four years older than him. I imagine this could lead to funny situations.

I don’t ship things for no reason! I think both of these could work platonically, romantically, one-sided, or even “requited but they don’t do anything about it.” Their relationships compel me and I think it’s sort of bad faith to brush off either like they’re nothing more than baseless yaoi pair-the-spares. To me, I see just as much of a foundation in the source material as farcille.

After all, dungeon meshi isn’t a story about romance, but it IS a story about love. It’s a story about life and death and grief and the love that comes with it. Regardless of shipping, these characters love each other!!! And I love talking about it!!

[lihhelsing]

Part 2

Unknown number: Hey

Steve is sitting on the couch, he has Top Gun playing in the background just because he wanted some noise. The house feels empty whenever Robin has a different shift than him.

The message comes from an unknown number and he just watches as the three dots appear. It’s probably someone trying to sell him something but he’s so bored all he can do is watch. 

When the message finally comes through, Steve feels his stomach dropping in surprise, a small rush coursing through him. 

Unknown Number: It’s Eddie. The guy who was rude to you for no good reason? You know, the one who thought you were being an asshole just to embarrass himself in front of the hottest guy he had ever seen? 

Unknown Number: God, I sound dumb. You probably don’t remember me but it’s Eddie. 

Steve remembers. Of course he does.

Unknown Number: Anyway. I’m making it worse, aren’t I? I just wanted to apologize. I can delete your number after this, but I felt like I owed you. You didn’t do anything wrong and I was a bitch. Sorry. I’ll leave you alone now. 

Steve doesn’t want to be left alone. Without thinking he dials the number. Feels like messages aren’t the best way to handle the situation. 

“Hi,” Eddie says a little out of breath after the third ring.

“Hey,” Steve says back. There’s a smile threatening to bloom on his face because Eddie sounds flustered and Steve kind of loves it. “Sorry I called.” 

“Sorry I messaged,” Eddie says back and Steve chuckles. 

“I’m glad you did,” he says and he swears Eddie’s breath hitches. 

“I’m glad you did, too.” 

Steve had been debating whether or not to message Eddie. He’d told the story to Robin and she laughed at his expense as usual, but then she shrugged and said Steve should let it go. It wasn’t his fault the guy got played and Steve shouldn’t feel guilty. 

He didn’t. He just really couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie. 

After a beat where neither of them says anything, Steve decides to tackle the elephant in the room.

"So, uh, I'm really sorry about the whole catfish thing. I don't know why someone would be this mean."

Eddie hums on the other side of the line and Steve thinks this is it, maybe he'll offer him an excuse and hang up and actually delete his number, but Eddie surprises him. 

"It's ok, you know. I should've suspected it, honestly. There's no way someone as hot as you would be interested in someone like me."

"You keep saying that and yet I remember giving you my number anyway," Steve says playfully. 

"Yeah, 'cause you were feeling sorry for me." Eddie says back and Steve actually scoffs. 

"Well, no. I actually thought you were pretty cute," Steve shrugs even though Eddie can't see him. He's never that forthcoming but there's something about Eddie that keeps pulling him in and he just wants to see where this is going. 

"Pretty cute, huh? I'll take it."

"I can tell you what else I thought when I first saw you over… Dinner?"

Eddie's laugh fills Steve's ear and it's a glorious sound. 

"You want to take me to dinner?"

"Yeah, of course. If, you know, it's not too weird. I know I'm not the person you thought you were talking to but maybe I can be cool too."

Eddie hums again and Steve thinks he's probably debating if it is too weird. He's also oddly curious about the whole thing but he has no idea if Eddie would want to talk about it. 

"Yeah, ok. We can do dinner."

Maybe he's going to find out. 

X

Steve has always been good at first dates, but this thing with Eddie doesn't really feel like a first date. 

After their awkward first call and Steve asking Eddie out on a date they just started texting. A lot. Because of Steve's crazy shifts at the coffee shop and Eddie's weird hours at the bar he worked on was kind of hard to find a time for their date, but it was like neither of them was in any rush for that. 

Steve discovered he was a little obsessed with finding out things about Eddie. Like how he always dreamed about becoming a rockstar but actually loved his job at the bar and creating different drinks and just getting to meet different people all the time. He also told Steve about his uncle, who he loved with all his heart, and how his dad had disappeared from his life right after his mother died. 

Talking to Eddie was easy in a way Steve had never known with anyone else and he really enjoyed it. He particularly liked the little night time routine they created. Steve would call Eddie whenever he got home, knowing Eddie was just getting ready to go to work, and they would talk, sometimes until Steve was fast asleep in his bed and Eddie was driving to the bar. 

But after a month, Steve is itching to see him. Even if it's just so the two could talk in person, he kind of wants to look at Eddie and take notes on all the little things about him like he'd done so many times with every picture Eddie had sent his way. 

So he calls Eddie and tells him Robin finally agreed to switch shifts with him next friday so they can go out. 

Steve leaves out the part where he had to promise to do her chores at the house for a month and had to make up some story about needing to see a doctor. She hadn't been budging whenever he said he wanted to go out on a date with Eddie because she kept telling him she couldn't miss her classes just because Steve wanted to get laid so, yeah, a little lie wouldn't hurt. 

"So, Friday. It's a date?" Steve asks a little nervously on the phone. He's already showered and is laying in bed with his hair dripping wet. Too excited to talk to Eddie to bother blowing out his hair. 

Eddie hesitates. Steve hears in the way his reply takes a minute to come. In a second he second guesses everything. Maybe Eddie had been talking to him just to realize Steve really wasn't the person he thought he was talking to. Maybe Eddie-

"Steve?" Eddie asks on the phone and Steve gets brought back to reality. "Sorry. Don't overthink this…"

Too late, Steve thinks. He says, "so it's a no on the date?"

"What?"

"You don't want to go on a date with me," he doesn't ask now. "It's fine, Eddie. It was worth a shot and it's fine if you realized you didn't-"

"Oh my god, will you shut up? Of course I want to go on a date with you. It's just… You know, I'm weird and messy and I talk too much and you're… You know. You."

"I'm… Nothing special."

"Now, you and I both know that's not true. I mean, you're hot. I won't lie, I started talking to you because I had never had a guy that hot talking to me and wanting something with me. But now I see you're so much more than that. I just… I don't want to disappoint you. What if you don't like me in person because I'm awkward and too skinny and talk too loudly and dress weird and-"

"Now you are overthinking this. I gave you my number and I asked you out on multiple occasions and I just… Really like talking to you. I would very much like talking to you in person over dinner. And then maybe inviting you over to my place so we could keep on talking, maybe. We could, uh… You know, fall asleep on the same bed for once."

Wow. Steve has no idea where all of that came from but he realizes he means it. 

Eddie's voice comes out a little strangled when he speaks, "Just sleep?"

Steve coughs, feels himself blushing. What is up with all that? Why is he suddenly acting like a high schooler? 

"So is that a yes on the date?"

"Yes, Steve. That's a yes on the date."

Previous | Next

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan is staring at you from across the room with unnatural intensity, and you don’t know how to point it out without being rude.

because, on the off chance that you’re mistaken and he’s actually transfixed by the appealingly blank wall above your head, it would be embarrassing. horrendously, irremediably embarrassing.

but you know yoon jeonghan like the back of your hand, and so you don’t think you’re mistaken. in fact, you think you know him better than the back of your hand, because if someone actually asked you to describe the back of your hand, you’d be fucked — but if someone asked you to describe jeonghan, you could wax lyrical.

you could tell them about how you met, three years ago. (freshman orientation, a haze of embarrassment and icebreakers.) you could tell them about his coffee order (black) and his favourite colour (also black) and the classes he hates and the classes he loves. you could tell them about how his eyes have a certain light to them, something you��ve never seen in anyone before, animated and effulgent and brilliant. you could tell them about his family; his friends; the way his fingers slot between yours; the way he laughs when he means it and the way he laughs when he doesn’t.

you could also tell this hypothetical someone that you’ve been in love with jeonghan for the past two years. and that he is totally, completely, utterly oblivious.

“your apartment’s ugly.”

(you could also tell them that he has a knack for being honest at entirely the wrong time, and you’re pretty sure he does it on purpose.)

“you know,” you say, dragging yourself out of your thoughts, “when most people want to break a silence, they ask a question or something.”

he doesn’t deign to respond.

“insults tend to be a last resort,” you add helpfully.

“not an insult,” he returns leisurely, sprawling across your couch, draping his legs over your lap. “you just need some life in here.”

“i’m alive. you’re alive. we’re both in here.” you shove his legs off. “besides. i just moved in.”

“you should get a lizard.”

your lack of surprise is a testament to how long you’ve been friends. “i’m not getting a lizard. are you hungry?”

“you could call it… barney.”

“i feel like having pizza.”

“or maybe lola, if it’s a girl. lola is nice.”

“i think we’re having two completely different conversations here,” you decide. and push his legs off you. again.

but this time, in a fluid movement you don’t fully comprehend the mechanics of, he swivels his body so his head rests in your lap.

it’s the simplest of movements, and somehow you feel like you can’t breathe. time slows and speeds all at once — heart in your throat, eyes on his for all of a moment and a half. you almost hate when he does this; such casual affection sends you reeling.

it takes you a moment to recover, and you realise he’s talking; “what?” you blurt. “i didn’t hear you.”

he casts you a strange look, but doesn’t comment. “pizza is fine, i said.”

“okay,” you reply, a second too late. “i’ll, uh. order that. now, i mean.”

jeonghan gazes intently up at you, long hair splayed on your thighs, brown eyes tinged with the faintest concern. “you’re being weird,” he says, but soft enough to come out worried — caring, more than anything. “is everything okay?”

you think back to him staring at you, just a few minutes ago. you think back to his legs on your lap with casual familiarity. you think back to freshman orientation too, the memory of his easy smile and shorter hair.

you try to think back to the moment you fell in love with him, but you can’t pinpoint that. that was less of a fall, more of a slow, inevitable realisation.

you force a smile. “everything’s fine.”

“your pants, ___,” he says, a wry smile tugging up his lips. “they are on fire.”

“i’m not lying,” you say, in a way that is so obviously and blatantly a lie. there’s a reason you’re not majoring in theatre, and it lies in your inability to keep up a facade when pressed.

jeonghan usually doesn’t press, so you’re not sure why he’s like this now — laid across your lap so you can’t look away, only breaking his gaze for those slow, lazy blinks.

“i’m gonna order that pizza.” your voice sounds hollow, even to you, so it’s not really a surprise when jeonghan sits up and takes your hand to stop you moving away.

“wait a bit,” he says, tenderness — softness, even — seeping into his voice. “i just want to say. i know.”

fuck.

your voice quavers ever so slightly. “you know? what do you know?”

as if it isn’t obvious. as if you aren’t obvious. it’s only taken two years of pining for you to get to this point; for him to get to this realisation; for you to face this rejection.

“i know,” he says softly, carefully, “about your feelings. for me, i mean.”

there’s a silence that seems to stretch forever. but it’s not more than three seconds, maximum.

“feelings of strong hatred and ill will, maybe,” you finally say, a swift rebuttal of the conversation you think he wants to have. i’m sorry, i didn’t know you felt that way, i didn’t mean to…. you’re not doing this — not with him.

jeonghan still has your hand encased in his, fiddling with your fingers, tracing palm lines as he speaks. “i’m being serious. i just don’t know how to say — how to say what i want. not well enough.”

“jeonghan,” you sigh, because it seems that you are doing this. “you don’t have to — ”

“i love you.”

it’s odd, what three simple words can do to a person. time doesn’t quite slow down, but suddenly you are so acutely aware of everything. the clock on your wall that’s been stuck on 3:52pm since you put it up. the lightbulb jeonghan has promised to change for you is flickering. his hand is warm and soft and comfortable, and it’s still holding onto yours.

there’s a small smile working its way up your face. you don’t feel breathless, like you imagined you might. you feel like a weight has been eased off your ribcage; and under it, your heart feels full, so incredibly full. “you’re serious?”

jeonghan smiles back at you, that inexpressible light filling his eyes. “am i ever not?”

“you never are,” you say, but you’re laughing, recklessly leaning into him, curling against him in a way you’ve done a million times before, but never quite like this. you’ve never been able to press a kiss to the side of his jaw, never been able to feel him reciprocate with one on your temple — until now.

“are you not going to say it back?” he murmurs, smiling against your hair.

“do i need to?” you ask, angling back to look at him with mirth in your eyes. “you know, don’t you?”

an / i have finally written (and posted) something and i HATE it i’m sorry.

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[tiredfox64]

Liu Kang × unimpressed person that does their best to make fun of him. If you could do him and a girl who could not care less hes a god and instead is making fun of his bob and the fact that he seems allergic to shirts given that he cant wear more than 75% of one at aany given time

I'm Not Impressed

Yip notes: I feel bad when I have to fake being impressed. It's a lot of "Really?!" which is the equivalent of "That's crazy"

Pairing: Liu Kang (MK1) x Afab reader

Warning‼️: I never warn about my language, second half not proofread cause I was in class

So god comes to your door one night and tells you that he wants you to be one of his champions. Right, okay, cool.

…

Cool? Sweetie, that’s your creator right there. Your creator asked YOU to be one of his champions to fight another realm. Did you need time to process that or…no, alright…I don’t know why I am trying to talk to you.

You’re not the kind to marvel at Liu Kang not that he asks for that. You’re not all that impressed. Sure, he’s the god of fire but if you think about it hard enough you could extinguish him with a fire extinguisher.

Let’s get this straight, you’re not undermining him at all. You understand that he could still beat your ass terribly. Nobody wants a burst ass. But you’re just not someone who is easily impressed. Some think you are plain rude. Some think you aren’t entirely neurotypical. You don’t see it that way, this is just who you are. You find it would be ruder to pretend to be impressed. This rule applies to everyone, not just Liu Kang. Even your family understands that about you.

Liu Kang could see that you weren’t like Johnny who didn’t believe Liu Kang at first. He knew you understood that he was the god of fire and the protector of Earthrealm. That didn’t stop you from making comments though.

Even after first introducing himself you made it clear that you didn’t care who he was. I mean you were outright ready to start shit the moment you opened the door.

“Who the fuck did your hair?” You said the moment your eyes landed on him.

“I beg your pardon?”

You saw his glowing eye go wide before narrowing in disappointment. He was hoping your comment was because you wanted to drive him away. A little tease like that won’t drive him away. So he explained the whole god thing and the protector bullshit to you.

“Oh yeah? Is that right?” Your tone was not rude you were actually asking if what he just said was the truth.

“Yes. Please, I must discuss important matters with you. May I enter?” He asked in his gentle voice.

“I mean, whatever, sure. But don’t try anything stupid I won’t hesitate to beat your ass.” You warned the literal fire god himself.

You believed everything he was saying which was surprising. If he could make himself burst into flames right in front of your eyes, you’d believe anything he says. You accepted his offer to go to the Wu Shi to train. It’s for a good cause so whatever. You could get out of the house.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Poor Liu Kang, you never give him a break.

You always find something about him to make fun of. It could be his hair, his clothes, his face in general. You were warned to be more respectful of him. In a way, you do respect him by listening to what he has to say and the advice he gives you. But that doesn’t stop you from pointing out some silly things.

For example, his hair. You’re always pointing out the bun in the back. It does nothing. His hair is still down and possibly getting in the way. And when he mentioned to you all that he used to have a bob cut, hah, fuck him he shouldn’t have said it. You snorted the moment you heard that. You laughed at the thought of it because you could never understand why he would have that cut. Good thing he didn’t mention what color it used to be; he would never hear the end of it.

You also make fun of his facial expressions. He’s calm and you know it. But his resting face seems so disappointing. When he’s disappointed, like when Johnny doesn’t take something seriously, it adds more fuel to the fire. You only figured out the difference when you first said something.

“Well, ain’t you just a ray of fuckin sunshine. Why are you so upset?” You asked as you looked at everyone else training. They seem to be doing fine, what does he have to be upset about?

When you looked back at him you saw his eyebrows were more furrowed and you could see the corners of his mouth tip down. Now he was upset. He was upset with your assumption.

“I am only displeased with your attitude. I was fine beforehand.”

“Oh so you just look like that.”

May the elder gods help this man.

You watched him roll his eyes as he grimaced at your attitude. He pointed at the others to signal you to return to training. You put your hands up like you didn’t just insult this man’s face. He could see that smug fucking grin on your face.

His clothes though, ugh, that is so easy to poke at. It’s like he’s allergic to covering up. You would expect some modesty from a god but you could always be wrong.

You found it funny that the sleeves were rolled up. The shirt is already short-sleeved but apparently it’s not short enough for Liu Kang. If you wore your button-up shirts like he wears his you would be called a slut. Side titties would be shamed in this Academy except by Johnny, he would welcome it.

At first, you thought he purposely got a shirt that was too small for him. The sleeves looked like they struggled to contain his muscles. Those things are bound to rip if he flexes a little too much. Oh but remember he’s “modest” so he would never do that. No, no, he’s too modest to gloat but not modest enough to cover up. And to answer your question, no, his shirt is not too small. In fact, it might be his size. He’s scrunching it from the back.

Why it took you so long to notice you had no idea. You were more focused on the front and not the back.

You only noticed when he was explaining to all of you why the Mortal Kombat tournament was important, something about making sure those Outworld fuckers stay back. You were staring at the back of his head before lowering your gaze. Wow, he has a nice ass OH something is up with his shirt look at that. How could your eyes not be drawn to that area. The red sash wrapped around his waist called for your attention. His shirt was bunched up in the back. It’s like those girls who would tie a hair tie at the back of their shirt to make it squeeze against their body which just made it funnier.

As you all gathered to figure out who would be the true champion, you decided to stand near Liu Kang instead of with everyone else. Johnny had already aggravated him from the start so a fire was already going. Oof that eye-roll and grimace came from the soul. He was already side eyeing you as you scooched over to him. Before you could say something he was ready to interrupt you.

“Please act well today. Do not provoke me.”

“I wasn’t gonna provoke you, damn. I just wanted to ask you if you’re feeling a little cold?”

He wasn’t confused, he knew you were starting something. His hand went up to his forehead as he leaned against the armrest. He’s so tired.

“I’m just asking cause, ya know, you could easily button up that-“

“Enough!” He pushed your hand away which was slowly inching towards his chest.

“I’m just trying to help. You could easily button up if you untuck your shirt. Here.” You reached towards his back and started to untuck his shirt from the tight red sash.

“By the Elder Gods, you are out of your mind!”

It became a scuffle between you and Liu Kang as he tried his absolute best to stay calm. The monks that were near were either occupied with Raiden beating Johnny’s ass or trying to avoid being stepped on by you. Once you got it untucked he was mentally defeated. Liu Kang gave up, you won.

“See, now we can button that up. No need to show the universe your man tits.” You used the loops on his right side to hook the buttons.

He let it happen. His eyes stared straight ahead, not at the fight but past the horizon. Where did he go wrong? Why him?

You stared down at him, waiting for any other reaction than that blank stare. All you got was him holding his hand out to tell you to fight Raiden. You looked over to see that Johnny was flat on his back, clearly the loser of the fight. You shrugged and made your way over. He clearly didn’t want to talk to you. Now time to get your ass beat.

No, you will not win this match. You were never gonna win this match. You got your ass handed to you by a simple farmer who speaks softly. And could call Liu Kang cruel or even sadistic for how he was feeling. But by the gods was he satisfied by seeing that fight. Karma!

Yap notes: Yeah so I died whoops lol. Nah but I'm glad to get another fic out and hopefully I start feeling better soon. Uni is killing me this semester ugh. Maybe I’ll make a post explaining more. Adiós!

[soft-teddybear]

ateez - s/o is insecure about their face

genre: fluff, comfort

cw: insecurities talk.

requested by annon.

summary: ateez when they notice their s/o is insecure about their face, what they’ll say or do.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction made for entertainment on all and form my personal view of the members with no intention of being rude.

members under the cut.

Seonghwa notice how you didn’t liked to look at the mirror a lot and how you’ll always wear makeup so he decided to ask you about it, it was hard opening up to him about your insecurities but you were so happy that you did because he helped so much. He helped you to identify what exactly made you feel so insecure (call it pimples or other skin issues or just self esteem issues) and work in it to make you feel comfortable with yourself.

Hongjoong is heartbroken when he finds out, so happy and proud in your relationship because you told him, but too sad at the same time, so now is his life work to help you with it, constantly telling you how pretty you look, trying to boost your self confidence and helping you become more happy in how you look on your daily life. If things are too complicated he suggest therapy (even offers to pay for it), he’ll do anything to help you feel better with yourself.

Yunho wants to fix everything talking and helping you feel better but can’t deny that deep inside him he wants to kick the people that made you feel bad, unless it’s s yourself in that case he just wants to hug you. Talks to you every single time you feel low until you figure out why it’s that and until you find a way to feel better. He’s with you on every step of the way, trying to keep you from going back to your original thoughts but helping you ether way if that happens.

Yeosang kind of gets it, with having to hide his birth mark for so long he was a bit insecure about for some time, but because of the support that the fans gave him, he loved it again. So he tries that strategy with you. Telling you how much he loves your face with or without make up at any given chance he has, and if he feels that there’s been a long time since the last chance he found, he makes one then and there. All to help you feel as pretty as you are.

San just wants that you look at your self and see the beauty he sees. So he does everything in his power to help you feel better. From telling you everytime he can how beautiful you are to trying to understand why exactly you feel so bad about yourself. He understands that insecurities can be mean things that doesn’t makes sense so he tries that you don’t feel worst about it by looking for an explanation that might not exist.

Mingi is the only one that suggests therapy as the first option because he knows that mental problems (like low self esteem and insecurities) are hard to get rid of with out the appropriate help and he wants you to get the best of the best. If its also about skin problems he recommends you his favourite skin products, go shopping for them with you or even book a dermatologist appointment he does everything he can to help you feel better.

Wooyoung loves taking selfies with you, even if no one will see them so having to do a lot of convincing every time he wanted a cute pic with you wasn’t something he loved, he did a lot of questions until he understood it was because of your insecurities and then decides do help you in every way he could and not to pressure you too much when you don’t want pictures. Almost cried the first time you had the idea to take a picture in a cute spot.

Jongho tries to keep calm in this type of situations, so he doesn’t says or does anything until he’s completely sure, all because he doesn’t wants to say or do something that will only end up with accidentally make you feel worst so if he suggest going to therapy, to a dermatologist or both or something different is because he’s one hundred percent sure that that’s what’ll help and if it doesn’t he’ll think a lot about it until he finds a better solution.

a/n: and im back, im nor fully sure if im back full time again, but ill try i hope you like it and all feed back is appreciated because i feel rusty.

[jinistd]

𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘

p. hyunjin × fem!reader

g. smut & fluff

w. 4K

content warning: smut, explicit sexual content, unestablished relationship, smoking, hyunjin gets high, consensual, hyunjin is a service top, use of pet names (hyunjin calls reader kitten/kitty)

masterlist

“-y/n?” she hears Felix call from beside her. The younger had been yapping all period about the party tonight, and y/n didn’t mean to be rude, she really didn’t, but she couldn’t help her mind drifting off onto more important things! Said things being a certain someone that has been making appearance after appearance in her daily daydreaming. Now she's not exactly complaining per se, but she is a little confused as to why her friend has been plaguing her mind more frequently than usual. It could be anything really, from his soothing voice to his dark brown eyes that always held an emotion Y/N couldn’t quite decipher, to his big, veiny hands that always had Y/N's mind drifting to other things. Things like how they would look in hers, how they would look around her waist, or between her thighs-

“Y/N!” You are again pulled from your thoughts as Felix gently kicks your leg under the table, whisper-yelling so as to not draw too much attention to you. You look at him sheepishly, brows drawn together with a small, apologetic smile on your face. “I’m sorry Lixie, what were you saying?” The boy’s frown only deepens, inching closer to you.

Felix squints his eyes as if he’s trying to find something. “Are you ok? You’ve been zoning out lately. Like, more than usual.” He diagnoses, again leaning further into your space, and at this point, it probably looks very odd from an outside perspective.

Blinking, you wonder if you should tell Felix what you've been thinking about recently. Telling Felix would mean also telling Han indirectly, but that’s technically not a bad thing because Han has much better advice than Felix anyway. You decide that it wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend.

You purse your lips, looking at the professor at the front of the classroom. “Felix, may I ask you something?” You start hesitantly, cheeks tingeing lightly as you keep your eyes away from the boy next to you. Felix raises a brow with a ghost of a smirk creeping its way onto his face, pulling away from you to lean back in his chair.

“Of course, Y/N! What’s got the puppy blushing?” The nickname only stirs your insides a little bit, nowhere near the sensation when Hyunjin calls you by the name. You gather yourself momentarily, piecing together your thoughts and looking around just to make sure no one is paying attention to you, which is unlikely for how far away you guys are from the rest of the class, and the amount of people. “How do you know if you like someone?” you finally let out, rushed, searching your friend's eyes for any minute reaction. It’s not like you doesn’t know you like Hyunjin, you're sure you do, but it seemed like the safest question to ask.

Felix's face shifts from surprise, brows raised, and mouth parted slightly, to smug almost instantaneously. “Oh? Does Y/N have a crush?” He asks, voice saccharinely sweet and teasing.

Leaning forward to shove his friend's shoulder half-heartedly, you whine, “Don’t tease! Just answer the question.” You sit back in your chair, watching as Felix feigns hurt for all of five seconds before he’s back to smiling at you. This time it’s downright maniacal, reminding you of the Cheshire cat, and you're just a bit terrified as the boy opens his mouth to say something. “It’s Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

The blush that was slowly fading has come back in full force, bright reds painting your cheeks as you freeze. Felix gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Oh my god, It’s totally Hyunjin!” He concludes, giggling like a kid at Christmas as he stares at your panic-stricken face. “Lixie it’s not funny!” Huffing, he turns away from his friend and to his notebook, which is barren of the notes they should’ve been taking. Felix seems to catch onto the fact that you are genuinely worried about whatever is going on and decides to save the teasing for later.

“Y/N, I don't know exactly how you feel, but Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t turn you down if you asked him out.” He assures because really, the elder would probably leap at the chance to go on a date with you. I mean who wouldn’t? You may not know, but most of their friends had developed a crush on him at some point, all having gotten over it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

You seem confused by his statement as he tilts his head to the side, eyes asking Felix a question. “What do you mean?” you say softly, almost as if your scared to know the answer. And to this, Felix just kind of stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out if you are making a joke. But your face doesn’t change one bit, staying in a state of confusion. He looks to the side as if there's a camera before turning back to the still-confused Y/N.

“Y/N, do you really not know?” Felix asks slowly, letting the words settle in the air around you. Dark hair shifting as you shake your head, you let out a small ‘no’.

At this, Felix laughs lightly, disbelieving at just how oblivious you are. “Hyung looks at you like you’re the only person in the world. He has these heart eyes, you know? And have you seen him around other people? Bro could not care less about anyone but you, he doesn’t even try to hide it! He’s also really rude to people who try to flirt with him, like, he looks at them like he’s disgusted by their presence. Disgusted Y/N! Have you really never noticed? He’s so obvious about it too…” He trails off, realizing that you had gone silent as he ranted about their older friend's behavior.

When Felix looks over at you, your face is blank with surprise, eyes widened and your bottom lip falling. “He doesn’t do that…” Your voice is nowhere near convincing.

“Sure, he doesn’t.” Is all Felix says before changing the subject again, but you are hardly paying attention.

You are two seconds away from running out the front door of the house. You rarely go to parties, and every time you do, you're reminded as to why. It’s loud, so loud, there's people grinding on each other everywhere, and you lost Felix in the crowd, so you're all alone at a party where you don’t know anyone. Yay!

You're looking around the living room for anyone you may know, or just to not look like an idiot, but either works, and you're almost successful! You think you see Hyunjin sitting on the couch rolling a blunt on the table in front of him, but as soon as you're about to walk over, something—no someone— is blocking your view.

“Hey.” The stranger smirks down at you, the warped smile looking all types of wrong on his face. It makes him look creepy and gross, causing you to cringe at their closeness.

“Can I help you?” You force yourself to be polite, manners still thoroughly intact even in the undesirable circumstances. The boy only increases the disgustingness of his smirk, raking his eyes up and down your body.

You shift in your spot as you look away, uncomfortably folding your arms over your chest and trying your best to glance over the stranger’s shoulder in search of Hyunjin. But the older isn’t on the couch anymore. You deflate, only to suck in a breath at the feeling of an arm being wrapped around his shoulder.

“Hi Baby.” Hyunjin’s voice is a whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the skin. You flush as a shudder runs through your body, you turn to look up at Hyunjin in surprise, his eyes already burning into yours. “Jinnie?” You question softly. Your faces are so close together, you wonder if the taller can hear your heart racing at the proximity.

Hyunjin’s hand comes up to your face, caressing your jaw. “I was looking for you,” He giggles, leaning in closer to your face, inches away. And he makes it sound so real, as if he really was looking for you amidst the crowd, which after the information Felix had shared with you earlier today, has a good chance of being true. Suddenly, Hyunjin looks away from you, eyes set on the stranger who is still standing there, his gaze murderous.

“Can I help you?” The taller spits, standing to his full height and dropping his hand down to your waist to pull you into his body. The boy practically squeaks before scurrying off with his tail between his legs, leaving you two alone.

Your body immediately deflates, leaning yourself into Hyunjin’s comforting hold easily. “Hi Jinnie.” You mumble, turning your head back to look at the older.

Hyunjin softens at the sound of your voice, your eyes finally meeting again. “Hi Y/N-ah.” You preen at the name, your name always sounding different when Hyunjin says it, but to be fair everything sounds different when Hyunjin says it. Better in every way.

He leads the younger to the couch, right where he had been sitting before saving you. Hyunjin picks up the rolled blunt from the table and reaches for the lighter in his pocket.

“y/nnie.” He calls simply, letting the name permeate in the air. You tilt your head to the elder, looking up at him. You aren't sitting far apart at all, thighs touching as Hyunjin lays back against the couch with the new blunt resting in his mouth. His left-hand falls to your thigh, rubbing small and comforting circles into the rough material of your jeans.

It wasn’t comforting at all though, you immediately flush at the feeling of the elder's large hand on your thigh. It was a regular occurrence for Hyunjin to put his hands on you, but each time it set your body alight with nerves.

“Kitty,” God. This boy must want to kill you.

You choke, sputtering as you continue to stare at Hyunjin’s side profile. The elder takes a long drag, holding it for a few seconds and then exhaling. He turns to you. “You should try this.”

And you probably shouldn't, but when Hyunjin’s looking at you as if he's the only person in the room while asking you to do something that seems so mundane, how could you possibly say no? You're a weak woman.

So, you take the offered blunt and presses it to your lips, not really knowing what to do next. Hyunjin seems to understand your dilemma and takes mercy on you because you next hear instructions on how to smoke properly.

“Suck it like a straw, inhale, hold, exhale. Do it gently, or you’re gonna cough.” He smiles at you, teasing as you give him a quizzical expression and nods your head hesitantly.

You still cough. Violently. Your lungs burn as you hand the offensive object back to its original owner, who is now laughing. “Stop laughing!” You whine when you finally catch your breath, throat still burning. Hyunjin’s hand squeezes your thigh tighter as he laughs, head tilted back towards the ceiling. A shiver runs down your spine, Hyunjin is so hot.

“C’mere, kitty.” He grabs the back of your head and tilts your head manually. Stilling, you lay pliant in the others' grasp.

Hyunjin takes a long drag before leaning in, meeting eyes with you wide-eyed and confused. Your lips are parted slightly, just enough so that Hyunjin can lightly press his own against yours to let the smoke travel into your mouth.

The touch is gone as quick as it came.

Hyunjin's own eyes are lidded as he watches. “Suck, inhale, hold, exhale,” he murmurs quietly to you who follows his directions as best as you can, sucking it in like a straw, inhaling, holding, and exhaling.

This time it's much smoother, but the smoke travels from your mouth to Hyunjin’s in a puff, the older boy sucking up the last remnants of it in with confidence.

They're close, so close. You're practically on the other’s lap with how much you had compensated when Hyunjin pulled you in. The air between you is thick as Hyunjin brings the blunt back to his mouth, this time connecting your lips in a real kiss, letting the smoke cloud up around your mouths.

Your eyes flutter shut as they meet, Hyunjin's hand on the back of your head like a brand, heavy and hot. The one that moves to your thigh is no better, tugging on you just enough for you to get the hint that he wants you to sit in his lap. Again, you're a weak woman for Hyunjin, so you go without question.

You feel small like this, sitting in the lap of your friend. You moan against Hyunjin’s mouth as the older grips your waist, it’s not the strongest because the blunt is still between his fingers, but it's more than enough to leave you with the feeling of molten hot desire pooling in your gut.

“Jinnie…” He mumbles into Hyunjin's mouth, curling a fist into his jacket. When he opens his eyes, he sees the gaze the older has fixed on him, lust and want swirling in his dark, hooded eyes.

“Yes, Kitten?” The elder asks teasingly, leaning forward to nip at your plump lower lip. He’s reminded of the blunt in his hands though, pulling it away from your body and taking another hit.

Before he could exhale though, you connect your lips once again, holding onto the side of Hyunjin's face with one of his hands. The kiss is messy, saliva pooling in your mouth and spilling over the corners as Hyunjin kisses you back just as desperately.

But as you continue to share the blunt, your kisses and touches become languid and sweet, delving down into something less rushed. It's still filled with lust however, you're still minutely grinding up or down into each other in the middle of a party on a stranger's couch, but somehow it feels different.

You smile and giggle as you pull away, the weed hasn't hit either of you yet, but you feel light and airy as he stares at Hyunjin.

“Y/N-ah, you're so adorable.” Hyunjin coos, squeezing the side of your waist with no real force. You blush and giggle again, leaning back down to press a peck to the elder's lips. “Jinnie, do you maybe wanna…find a room?” You ask cautiously, making sure to hide yourself in Hyunjin’s neck as you do, hoping that it would serve as a covering.

The content smile on his face grows to a large grin as he cradles the back of your head. “Why don't we go back to my place? It’s only a few minutes from here.” He offers, placing a kiss to your head.

You don't know how the atmosphere changed so quickly. Just a minute ago you were practically cuddling on the couch with a side of kisses and grinding, but now the frottage has gotten out of hand and you're shaking against the elder.

“J-Jinnie! Please, please, please. I’ll be good! I’ll be so good, I swear…” You beg desperately, eyes watering with unshed tears as you stare up at Hyunjin through his lashes.

The older had been teasing you for so long. You just want him to do something to alleviate the ache of your cunt. Hyunjin has his thigh between your legs, pushing down harshly at times, or just simply letting you grind up against him.

He grins down at you. “Yeah? Does my kitty want more?” Hyunjin chides affectionately, his hand holding the side of your face as you relax into the touch.

“Yes.” The way you look is downright seductive. Your clothes aren't even off and your already drooling, hair messy as it lays over your head like a halo, and you're looking up at Hyunjin with these sinfully gorgeous eyes, wide and wanting, pooling with lust. He's sure he doesn't look any better though, just as effected as you in this whole endeavor.

Hyunjin finally lets up, taking his hands back and pulling himself away to take his shirt off. You whine at the loss, but it's soon quieted as you gasp upon seeing Hyunjin without a shirt.

“Jinnie you never told me you worked out…” And for some reason, you sound sad, as if you really were upset that Hyunjin never told you. He pulls off his pants too, letting both articles of clothing fall somewhere on his floor as he moves back to you.

“Baby, are you sure you're ready?” He asks, pausing with his hands on your waist. You thrash, “Jinnie if you don't fuck me right now.” He huffs, trying to sound intimidating but it just comes out as weak and breathless.

Hyunjin's eyes darken, hands working quickly as they rip off your pant and underwear down in one motion, tossing them on the floor and exposing his glistening cunt. “Or what? Hmm Y/N? What are you gonna do if I don't fuck you?” His grip tightens on your hips, blunt nails digging into the soft skin.

There's no bravado in your voice as he speaks, it's lost the longer Hyunjin stares at you with a gaze so hungry and primitive. “I’ll go find someone else.” It's said as a whisper, because it's the furthest thing from the truth—you don't want anyone else other than your Hyunjin to fuck you.

Hyunjin seems to think it's funny, for he tosses his head back in laughter, hands absentmindedly reaching for the fabric that's left on your body.

“We both know you wouldn't even dream of that. ‘Cause you're such a loyal kitten, yeah?” Hyunjin mutters the last part directly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell and sending a shiver down your spine.

You squeak, Hyunjin's hands finding purchase under your shirt where your chest meets your torso. You nod your head fervently, eyes closing.

Hyunjin only chuckles, crowding into your space. “Yeah, that's right. You're my good girl, aren't you?” It's rhetorical, but you can't help the small, shaky ‘yes’s you let out as Hyunjin kisses down your neck. He pokes his tongue out, letting it taste the subtle saltiness of your skin. Hyunjin sucks harshly at your collarbone, you whimper at the feeling.

“Jinnie. please. Do something…” Your just so desperate. You've been kissing and touching for what feels like hours: Hyunjin has been teasing you for too long and now you're brimming with desire.

When the first tear spills down your cheek, Hyunjin finally takes mercy on you.

“Shh, baby let Jinnie take care of you.” Hyunjin mutters into the furnace that is your skin, pecking the side of your mouth before moving down your body and settling between your legs.

You feel your cunt throb with a fresh spurt of slick as Hyunjin breathes hotly against your folds, just looking. His hands are supporting the underside of your thighs, pushing them up and apart to get a better view.

“Fuck kitty, you're dripping.” And the worst part is that Hyunjin is right. You can feel your arousal as it runs down your legs, it's the dirtiest you've ever felt but you're much too turned on to care.

You're just about to whine for attention again when you feel something warm and hot licking over your clit.

Hyunjin doesn't waste time, sparing you no warning before he abruptly licks a thick stripe up your slit, lapping at the juices that coat your pussy. He groans at the taste, always knowing you would be sweet.

Unable to resist the urge to voice his opinions, Hyunjin speaks his mind. “You taste so good, Y/N.” He hums into you, your pussy clenching around nothing at the praise.

“Jinnie…” You whisper, broken and weak. When Hyunjin looks up at you, your eyes are closed, and your face is drawn up tightly.

Hyunjin sucks harshly at your clit, thighs twitching in his hold. “Ah!” You gasp, your hands instantly moving from their grip on the duvet to lightly grabbing at Hyunjin's hair.

Hyunjin can barely hold back the sounds he’s making, small groans and hums leaving his mouth and vibrating against your entrance as he moves to focus more on it.

Swirling his tongue around the soft hole, he lets your legs rest on his shoulders. You sound so heavenly like this, moaning and whimpering, so fucked out just after a few touches.

His hands massage the skin between your thighs and ass, going back to sucking your clit like candy. Above him, your hands tighten their grip, only serving to spur Hyunjin on.

He flicks his tongue over the swollen bud, pink and puffy with need over and over, making your stomach heave.

“Hyunjin! Ah—Jinnie, so s’good.” You babble, lips shiny and wet with saliva. Hyunjin moans at the sight of drool escaping your mouth and slowly dripping down your chin, feeling his dick throb in his boxers.

He licks into you as if he's been starved his entire life, tongue lapping hungrily over your clit as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your ass. Your legs shake on his shoulders as Hyunjin lets out a long hum, a gasp leaving your mouth at the vibrations. “Hyunjin!” You wail.

In response, Hyunjin presses a wide lick from your entrance to your clit, hooking his tongue around the bud and swirling it around in firm circles. You jolt, the feeling like no other as you moan helplessly.

“Such a good girl, your cunt’s so sweet.” He chuckles, voice gruff as he repeats the action. You are flushed a bright red, cheeks splotchy as tears run down them beautifully.

When your eyes meet, it's heavy, filled with emotion. Your voice is strained as you call for Hyunjin. “Jinnie.” You manage, letting one hand go from Hyunjin's hair in search of one of his own hands.

Hyunjin obliges immediately, slotting your hands together lovingly above your stomach. It's a stark contrast to the way he plunges his tongue back into your sopping entrance, licking up the slick that's now covering his mouth and chin.

He can feel you begin to spasm around him, plush thighs squeezing his head and neck. It’s so hot how you're so desperate, chasing your orgasm as Hyunjin continuously brings you further and further along.

“C’mon baby, be good and cum for Jinnie.” He can feel as you start to crumble, breath becoming much heavier as your eyes start to flutter, moans higher in pitch as you arch your back to push yourself further into Hyunjin's mouth. But it's the next line that really pushes him over the edge.

“Cum for me kitty.” Your mouth is frozen open in a silent scream, air caught in your lungs as your cumming on Hyunjin's face unabashedly. Your body shakes through the process, pussy clenching and unclenching around the elder's tongue in spasmed rhythms.

Hyunjin coaxes you through it all, letting you ride out your high by swallowing every last drop of your release. He doesn't stop until you push his head away with a trembling hand.

When Hyunjin comes up from his spot between your legs, he's met with your glassy eyes looking up at him with a sad look. “‘n/n what's wrong? Did I go too far? Was it too much?” He worries, words slipping from his mouth at a fast pace as his hands come up to cup your warm cheeks.

You shake your head. “Jin, you haven't come yet.” You mumble, pointing down to the very obvious boner he’s sporting. Hyunjin only laughs, thankful that he hadn't overstepped.

“It's okay pretty, I just wanted you to feel good.” Hyunjin assures, kissing your swollen lips sweetly. But it seems like it was the wrong thing to say because now your whining into his mouth.

Pulling away with wide eyes, Hyunjin gives you a curious look. “I want you to…” You look away, blushing furiously, and Hyunjin decides he will be having none of that, turning your head his way again.

“Want me to what?” He pushes, eyes now teasing and expectant. You wriggle in his grip, squirming under the heated gaze.

“‘Wan you to cum on me…” It's barely even a whisper, but Hyunjin still hears, breaking out into a large grin as you look away yet again.

Hyunjin lets go of your face, settling himself between the younger’s legs again. “Yeah? Is that what the kitty wants?” He drawls lowly, reaching into his boxers and releasing his cock from its restraints. He won’t last long at all, his cock is a violet red and it stands up tall, slapping against his stomach.

Gasping when you see the length, you can't help but imagine what it would look like to fit that inside you, what would it feel like. You always knew Hyunjin would be big, but this reaches new lengths.

Hyunjin sees the inner turmoil inside your mind. “Don't worry. Next time, I’ll open you up real nice for me.” He hums, wrapping his hand around the girth and sliding it against the wet surface of your still swollen pussy. Flinching at the sensation, you wince as the head of his cock rubs on his clit so deliciously.

Just as he had thought, it barely takes Hyunjin anything to come, the image of you biting his plump lips and looking up at him while your legs are spread so prettily is more than enough for him to be spilling over his hand with white, hot ropes squirting onto your folds with a loud groan.

He lays himself on top of you after that, careful of his weight but still cuddling into you. You were just so warm and soft. You can't blame him.

“I love you.” Hyunjin blurts into the hot skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight. You giggle in his arms, placing a shy kiss on Hyunjin's temple.

“I love you too.”