#hope you don't find it weird :3

[mik3stuff]

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[celestial-toys]

That I Would Be Good [3/5]

Whatever It's Worth

“For whatever it’s worth, I think it always looks fine. I think you fuss over it too damn much, but regardless… it’s… fine. You always look fine to me. You’d look fine even if you didn’t have any hair at all.”

A small smile blooms across your features as his words sink in. “That’s… that’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me, Sun.”

You turn and he lets the ends of your hair slip from his hands, looking a bit caught off guard at your sudden motion. You ignore his false eyes and look directly into the camera in the center of his screen. “Thank you.”

He remains frozen for a moment before his display dims to black and he turns, quickly scrubbing the worst remnants of conditioner off of his hands and onto a nearby towel. “I think your hair has been conditioned enough.”

- - - - - - -

In This Chapter

Sun attempts some level-headed honesty with his hands in your hair, and Moon gets a little overzealous when it comes to his unofficial position as Household Chef.

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader

Word Count: 4,779

Contains: [AU - Real World | Sentient AI/Automatons | Personality Swap] [implied EDNOS] [invasion of privacy] [implication of past self-harming behavior] [Reader has their period (not graphically described)] [discussion of menstruation] [discussion of various foods and nutrition] [one (1) use of a fem gendered term for Reader] [discussion and feelings of dysphoria] [eating]

A/Ns: This is a songfic. Lyrics and title are from ‘That I Would Be Good’ by Alanis Morissette.

This fic is part of my AU “[Not] Made by Design”, the full series can be found here.

Links to other parts of this fic: [Ch.1] [Ch.2] [Ch.3 (you are here)] [Ch.4] [Ch.5]

That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth.

After rinsing the remainder of lightly-tinted soap suds out of your hair, off of your body, and down the drain, you bend down to turn the shower off. Gently squeezing the worst of the water out of your locks, you straighten back up and pull the shower door aside.

Then you shout.

“SUN! What the fuck are you doing?!”

You quickly step behind the blurry frosted glass of the shower door, leaving only your head peeking around the edge. You shiver in the relatively cold air that rushes to fill the shower stall as you await an answer. The solar automaton is currently leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and casual as ever, monitor flipped around 180 degrees in what you assume was meant to be a silent assurance that he wasn’t watching you.

“I have a question.”

Your eyes pinch closed and your features scrunch up in frustration, silently asking any higher power out there to grant you the patience to deal with this nonsense. “And it couldn’t wait until I got dressed?”

He shrugs. “I don’t see why it would need to.”

You silently press your forehead against the cool metal of the shower door’s frame.

“…Are you decent yet or must I continue admiring the grout between the tiles on this wall behind me?”

You huff, reaching out of the shower and grabbing your bathrobe off of its designated hook. “Just one… damn second…” You cinch the rope around your waist and step gingerly out onto the bath mat. “Okay, I’m ‘decent.’ Now—pray tell—what do you need to ask me?”

He leans his upper body away from the wall, rays retracting to give himself enough clearance to flip his monitor around. His rays slide back out in tandem after he turns his head to face you, and he rests his shoulders against the wall once more. “I was wondering why you’ve taken three showers today.”

You stand there, blinking in disbelief. “That’s it?”

“Yes. It’s… concerning. I wanted to make sure you weren’t up to any… harmful behaviors in here while left unsupervised.”

You roll your eyes. “‘Left unsupervised…’ What is this, some kind of inpatient program? Christ, Sun, this is my house! Can’t I catch a break?”

You throw your arms up in frustration, and he doesn’t answer you immediately. It isn’t until you deflate, dropping your exaggerated expression and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose that he finally responds in a quieter tone. “You… concern me. I don’t know what to do.”

You sigh, trying to reign in your frustration.

Sometimes you forget that he has a lot less experience with being a person than you do.

You try to cut him some slack. “Sun, I appreciate the concern over my wellbeing. But I promise you, the only destructive behavior going on in this bathroom today is the damage I'm doing to my hair.”

He’s quiet, processing your words for a moment before he announces an observation. “It’s a lighter shade than it was this morning.”

You nod. “I sure hope it is. I’ve been in here washing the hell out of it with this fading treatment, trying to get the color I wanted.”

His expression is something between confused and disapproving. “You aren’t supposed to do that. It’s bad for your hair to wash it so much.”

You turn to the mirror and toy with your hair, dismissing him. “Yeah, yeah. Jeez, who are you, my hairdresser?”

He steps into view beside you in the mirror, leaning in closer to examine your hair. “Maybe if you’d gone to one instead of DIY-ing it you’d have gotten the color you wanted.”

You lock eyes with his reflection for a long moment. “…Touché.”

He seems pleased enough with your response, stepping back a bit and watching you futz with your hair in the mirror.

“Have your concerns been quelled now, or…?”

“…I suppose.” He replies, making no move to exit the bathroom.

“…Well then are you gonna just stand there and watch me apply my leave-in conditioner or what?”

He ignores your question, leaning in close to you again. Pinching the end of a damp lock of hair between the pads of his fingers, he hums his dissent. “You really need to quit fucking with your hair if you want to still have any left.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Goodness, the way you worded that almost sounds like a threat!”

His eyes meet yours in the mirror again and he smirks. “No… just a warning.”

He drags the tail end of your hair along the palm of his opposite hand, like idly toying with a paintbrush. “You’re always awfully concerned about the appearance of your hair.”

You cock a brow up at that. “Are you sure that isn’t a threat, Sun?”

A noise escapes him: half-scoff, half-laugh, and he sounds oddly genuine when he reassures you. “It’s not. I just… noticed.”

He releases your hair and you can finally lean far enough away to open the cabinet. “Mhm. What don’t you notice.”

He ignores your comment in favor of hitting you with another set of sudden left-field questions. “Are you afraid of getting older? Or are you afraid of losing control.”

Your hand halts, hovering halfway toward retrieving the conditioner from the cabinet, and drops back down to your side as you turn to face him. “What?”

“I’ve learned that some people dye their hair because they want to appear younger than they are. I’ve also seen many posts online where people describe making drastic changes to their hair while going through something difficult in their life. The concept appears in a number of song lyrics too. It seems to me like an attempt at gaining a sense of control.”

The fun thing about living with sentient, learning AI is that they’re always asking questions and compiling information about the world around them.

The not-so-fun thing about living with sentient, learning AI is that they’re always asking questions and compiling information about the world around them.

You’d liken it to having a fully grown adult with the curiosity and learning capacity of a child, if you didn’t want to feel even weirder about your “Creator x Creation” dynamic than you already do sometimes.

“While I… appreciate your attempts to psychoanalyze me based on my hair-dyeing habits, I regret to inform you that it’s neither of those things for me, Sunny.” You consider it a moment more, and add on. “…As far as I’m aware, at least.”

His head tilts to the side a bit. “You don’t have to patronize me.”

“I… wasn’t?”

“You used that name for me. ‘Sunny.’ It made your statement sound… patronizing.”

Another fun thing about living with sentient, learning AI is that you get to clear up all sorts of little miscommunications.

“Oh, no, I—I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I’m sorry, Sun. That wasn’t my intention.”

He doesn’t let it go so quickly. “Based on my calculations, a nickname like that tends to be used in one of three ways—patronizing, dismissive, or affectionate. Care to clarify which one it was?”

You level him with an unamused stare. “No, I don’t care to clarify.”

You then turn to retrieve the conditioner from the cabinet, effectively shutting down that line of questioning. You grab the body lotion while you’re at it, and as you set your items down on the counter, you attempt to free yourself of your overly-curious bathroom companion. “Unless you’re waiting around to help me put this stuff in my hair, I'm afraid it’s time for you to go find something else to do for a little while, Sun.”

His response is… unexpected. “I… can help.”

What has gotten into this guy recently? Used to be you had to fight to get one nice word out of him and now here he is playing ‘20 Questions’ and offering to condition your hair?

“I… didn’t expect you to actually—”

“If you didn’t want me to offer then why’d you ask?”

You squint at him, unamused. “Sun, c’mon, I know you grasp the concepts of sarcasm and rhetoric.”

Once again ignoring your statement, he pushes himself away from the wall and holds out his upturned palms in an open gesture of offering. “Would you like me to help or not?”

You’re quite sure he expects you to turn him down, so you agree to his offer, if for no other reason than to subvert his expectations. “You know what? Yeah, sure. I’d love the help, Sunny.”

He freezes for a moment—processing—but you’ve gotta admit, he collects himself surprisingly fast, apparently feeling up to the challenge.

Once you explain how much of the product to use and how to apply it, you quickly find yourself staring into the mirror, watching Sun carefully and methodically work conditioner into your hair and wondering how you got here.

Eventually a question pops up and you break through his focused silence. “Does it really look lighter than it did earlier today?”

“…Yes. But if you want my honest opinion it looked just fine before you scrubbed the life out of it three times.”

You huff in surprise at his bluntness. “Damn, okay, tell me how you really feel…”

“When have you ever known me to mince my words?”

“I know, I know. It’s fine. I appreciate your honesty.”

Silence settles over the two of you for another few moments, but he eventually pipes back up. “For whatever it’s worth, I think it always looks fine. I think you fuss over it too damn much, but regardless… it’s… fine. You always look fine to me. You’d look fine even if you didn’t have any hair at all.”

A small smile blooms across your features as his words sink in. “That’s… that’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever given me, Sun.”

You turn and he lets the ends of your hair slip from his hands, looking a bit caught off guard at your sudden motion. You ignore his false eyes and look directly into the camera in the center of his screen. “Thank you.”

He remains frozen for a moment before his display dims to black and he turns, quickly scrubbing the worst remnants of conditioner off of his hands and onto a nearby towel. “I think your hair has been conditioned enough.”

Your tone quickly becomes teasing. “Aww, is somebody flustered?”

He reaches for the doorknob. “It’s time for me to walk Zero. I trust you can moisturize the rest of yourself without my assistance.”

Quickly making his very smooth retreat, as your laughter subsides, you’re left there to apply your lotion in thoughtful silence.

That I would be great if I was no longer Queen.

“Does this feel more like an ‘apple-cinnamon’ or ‘banana-walnut’ kind of day?”

You release a soft sigh as you raise your head from where it’d been… briefly planted atop your crossed arms, and you lean back into your seat at the kitchen table. “You really don’t have to do every single thing for me, Moon.”

His monitor clicks, spinning a few degrees back and forth to accompany his playful rebuttal. “And leave me with no task to occupy these idle hands? Why, I feel like that’d be just cruel.” The pout he wears doesn’t do much to convince you, nor to ease the guilt you feel.

He can tell as much, and tries a more serious approach. “Star… you’re menstruating. From what I can tell, this is a more painful period than normal. I’m sure in no small part due to the excess stress you’ve been under this past month. You deserve to rest as much as possible right now.”

“I figured you’d be in favor of me getting up and moving around. Isn’t that supposed to help in the long-run?”

He nods. “It can. But it tends to help the most when stretching and physical activity is maintained throughout the entire monthly cycle, not just once you’re already bleeding and in pain.”

His explanation is straightforward, but soft spoken, everything in his tone and body language obviously trying not to offend, accuse, or criticize. “Besides, bugging you to exercise tends to fall more under Sun’s jurisdiction, and he’s had his reasons for prioritizing other aspects of your well-being this month.”

Speak of the devil, Moon’s other half strides into the kitchen with Zero trailing closely behind. He has no trouble falling into the conversation. “I can help you through some gentle stretches later today if you’d like, but I second the notion that you should rest right now. I don’t need to hear any more groans and curses from you like I heard after you insisted on cleaning up the living room and prepping your own dinner last night.”

You rest your chin in your palm. “I ‘insisted’ because I just… I feel like I put too much on you guys. You don’t deserve to have to do all this shit for me.”

Sun scoffs, speaking with his back to you as he pulls open a cabinet door. “Trust me, you’re doing us all a favor by letting this one over here dote on you. I fear he’d go mad if there wasn��t always some task he could busy himself with, and he seems to favor any task that falls under the realm of taking care of you.” He turns to face you, mug in hand. “Now, what do you want to drink?”

You’d laugh at the juxtaposition of his words and his actions, but the deep pain of another cramp sets in and you weakly wave a hand in defeat. “Just some hot water, please.” He hums in confirmation and moves to grab the kettle. You turn your focus back to Moon. “I’ll let you… appease your instincts. It’s kinda my fault that you’ve got ‘em in the first place.”

His expression brightens, round eyes curling into his signature crescents. “Good! Now, shall I list your options again?”

You shake your head and hum a negative, mulling it over for a moment as you take hold of the steaming mug of water that Sun quietly slides in front of you. “Uhh… actually, can I just have it plain today?”

Moon smiles softly, head twisted back over his shoulder to look at you while he pulls a carton of dry oats from the pantry. “Of course, star. Would you like some sugar on it or do you want it truly plain?”

You shove aside the inner voice whispering to you about ‘empty calories’. “…I guess a little brown sugar wouldn’t hurt.”

Moon brightens a little at your answer. “Good choice! I hear that brown sugar gives it a maple syrup-y taste thanks to the molasses. Oh, that makes me think of pancakes! And waffles! And french toast! I should make one of those tomorrow. How does that sound?”

You smile at his growing excitement over tomorrow’s breakfast, in spite of the fact that he won’t even get to partake. Another cramp sets in as you respond and you try to keep the strain out of your voice. “They all sound good, but I don’t know if I can choose right now…”

He gently places a small pot of water on the stove, turning the burner’s dial with practiced precision. “That’s alright, there’s no rush! It’s just some—heh—food for thought!”

Sun groans at the joke, and Moon defends it. “Hey, no—that was a good one!”

Zero noses at Sun’s hand, stealing his attention before he can begin to debate with Moon. As you passively watch him pull the dog’s breakfast from the fridge, a random thought occurs. “Do we still have any Ruffles left?”

Moon opens a different cabinet and shuffles a few bags around in his search. “Weeee… do!”

You’re hesitant to request the odd combination, but your craving wins the inner battle. “Can I… have some of those too?”

“You certainly can!”

Sun reaches past Moon to grab Zero’s bowl from the dish rack, speaking beneath his mechanical breath. “Sugar and salt, what a breakfast.”

“They’re fine choices!” Moon chipperly responds, the word ‘fine’ punctuated by a small smack to the back of Sun’s monitor.

Sun’s rays retract as he ducks down and steps back, distancing himself from Moon’s reach. “I never said they weren’t.” He sets Zero’s bowl on the counter with emphasis. “But you might want to throw some sort of multivitamin in with that salty-sweet mix.”

“I always see to it that they meet their daily needs, Sun.” Moon’s voice rarely wavers from its amicable tone, but there’s an undercurrent of finality to it now that quiets any further commentary from his other half.

As he stirs the simmering oats on the stove, his monitor turns to face you. “Oh, speaking of! I was thinking about making you something with spinach and tofu for lunch. You could use the iron, and the magnesium might help to ease your cramps. Plus the vitamin C should help you absorb the iron, and- oh! I could add some wild rice, or potatoes. The additional B vitamins should help the magnesium, and they support progesterone prod—” The kitchen timer dings, stealing his attention and interrupting his ensuing nutritional ramble.

Twisting his head back around, he turns the burner’s dial off. “Anyways—point is—how does that sound to you? I could cube the tofu and toss it into a spinach salad, I could slice and fry it and arrange it together on a sandwich, or I could even sauté the spinach and make a tofu scramble!”

His excited discussion of all of your lunch options is a bit overwhelming to you, considering you haven’t even conquered breakfast yet. Still, you bear in mind that he’s only trying to help, over-enthusiastic as he may be sometimes. “Uhm… the sandwich sounds nice.”

“Alright! Then it shall be yours.” He moves to pass behind you, enroute to retrieve a bowl from the other side of the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your blanket-clad shoulders in a brief embrace. “Anything the Queen of the castle desires is hers upon command.”

You both giggle a bit at his playful expression, and Sun rolls his eyes, accompanied by a dramatic gagging sound. Zero’s happy tail thwacks repeatedly against one leg of the kitchen table. All is well.

Except it isn’t.

As Moon returns to the stove and Sun portions out Zero’s meal, you struggle to fight back the feeling that what he’d just said didn’t sit right.

It had nothing to do with his devotion to service and everything to do with the concept of you being “Queen.” All of this morning’s focus on your menstrual cycle, coupled with this ‘princess’ treatment and compounded by his casual use of feminine terms for you, suddenly has you feeling more like a woman than you suppose you’d like to.

Trying to push the nagging uncomfortable feeling aside, you pull your phone from your sweatpants pocket. You attempt to distract yourself with a mindless scroll through your notifications as the pleasant smell of your breakfast fills the room.

After presenting Zero with her own breakfast, Sun takes a seat across from you at the small table. You can feel his analytical gaze on you, pointedly avoiding eye contact when you glance up from your phone to sip your water.

By the time Moon presents you with your breakfast, the feeling has done nothing but rapidly fester. You try to distract yourself with the meal, but not even the absurd sight of your requested potato chips—on a plate, methodically arranged by size and laid atop one another in a spiral—is enough to rid you of it. You do your best to sound unbothered when you thank him, and he falters as he moves to step away from the table. “You’re very welc-ome… Is, uh… everything okay, star?”

Sun doesn’t beat around the bush. “Something’s wrong. Is the pain getting worse?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just… thinking about something.”

Moon’s hand comes to rest on the back of the nearest empty chair. “Well… talking tends to help people sort their thoughts out, no? We’re all ears if you’d like to get it off your chest.”

You hesitate and Sun straightens in his seat. “If my presence is preventing you from opening up, I can leave the room.”

Your gaze flicks to him, brows knitted. “What? No, no—I… why would you think that?”

He shrugs. If the notion bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. “I’m sure Moon is… the easier of the two of us to talk to. You seemed to be getting more uncomfortable the longer I sat here. Makes sense to me that maybe you’d rather me not hear about whatever’s going on.”

You start to feel a bit guilty that that’s the conclusion he jumped to. “No, Sun, that’s not… I mean, okay—yeah, I could feel you watching me, but just about anyone gets uncomfortable when they know they’re being watched. Your penchant for staring isn’t… you’re not keeping me from opening up.” You look him directly in the eye. “There isn’t anything I’d say to one of you that I wouldn’t want the other to hear. I don’t want either of you thinking that.”

Sun’s fingertips drum along the table and his faceplate clicks to the side. “Okay then, what is stopping you?”

You pull in a deep breath, internally debating whether it’s even worth explaining.

“You… don’t have to tell us, if you really don’t want to.”

You give Moon a tired smile, opening your mouth only for a defeated sigh to fall out. “It’s… nothing, really. Stupid, even.”

Moon frowns. “Did one of us do or say something wrong?”

“No… I mean—not really. Not intentionally! It’s just…” You groan, resting your forehead in your palms. “I feel uncomfortably… feminine. Today. For some reason.”

He nods slowly. “Oh…kay…”

You attempt to elaborate. “I know I don’t talk about it much. You guys know I use She/They pronouns and there’s no more explanation really required. But… I don’t know. Something lately has just had me wishing I was more masculine. Or—at least more androgynous, I guess. And with all this focus on my period, and—”

Sun, the ever patient listener he is, cuts you off. “Menstruation is not inherently feminine. Any human can have periods if they have a uterus.”

You nod quickly. “Yes—I—I agree, but you’ve gotta take into account that that’s a relatively new take on the concept. It’s a good one, of course, but… a lot of people still associate having periods with being a woman. It’s been so tied to femininity for so long, always seen as a ‘woman’s issue’ that… it can be a difficult thing to un-internalize. It’s a common cause of dysphoria in transmasc and nonbinary people.”

He listens intently, rays slowly circling his head as he considers your point. “Right… right. I see. That makes sense.”

You take a pause to sip your cooling drink and recall where you left off. “It… honestly doesn’t usually bother me this bad. I couldn’t tell you what’s different about this month, it’s just not sitting well with me. But I do appreciate knowing that you two don’t see it as making me feminine. That does help. It’s just…” You shake your head. “Ugh, this is so silly…”

Moon slowly pulls back on the chair he’s been holding onto, stepping around and gently taking a seat. “It’s not silly if it’s bothering you.”

Sun nods, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “He’s right.”

You meet both of their gazes in turn with a small smile before casting your eyes back down to the table. “It’s not a big deal, though. It just… on top of already feeling very feminine, it sat with me wrong when you called me ‘Queen’ earlier. That’s… that’s literally all!” You punctuate your confession with laughter, trying your best to make light of the issue.

Moon’s eyes brighten. “Oh! Oh… oh goodness you’re right! I didn’t even—I didn’t even think…”

You raise a hand out toward him, quick to stop his unnecessary apologies. “It’s not your fault! I promise. You had no clue I was feeling… this way today, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not upset with you, I’m… honestly way more upset with myself that I’m so bothered about it in the first place.”

Sun throws his opinion into the ring. “I don’t think either of you are at fault. Moon didn’t know you were feeling this way, and you can’t really control when you feel this way.”

Moon nods and you follow suit. “Yeah, I was hesitant to say anything because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I already feel like I’m… hah—‘overly-sensitive’ right now anyways.”

Sun’s expression quickly shifts to disapproval. “Oh, that stereotype can get fucked. You feel how you feel and that’s that. It’s just as real right now as it would be at any other point in your cycle.”

Your eyes widen at Sun’s insistent tone and Moon chuckles a bit at the sight. “I agree, star. And… I don’t think that you’re making a ‘big deal’ about it at all. Honestly, I think the best way to not make it a big deal is to not be afraid to tell us if we use a term for you that makes you uncomfortable. I’d much rather you tell me than just try to ignore the feeling.” He reaches out to place a hand over yours. “We know that your identity isn’t set in stone. If there’s ever something you want to be called, or something you don’t want to be called, the best thing you can do is just let us know, okay?”

Unable to fight the affectionate smile that pulls at your cheeks, you flip your hand over to grab his properly, and squeeze. “Okay. Yeah, that… I can do that. Thank you for understanding.”

His faceplate contentedly clicks a few degrees to the right, his smile soft. “Thank you for telling us.”

Feeling flustered and just a bit overwhelmed by how surprisingly smooth that went, you give his hand one more squeeze before pulling back to wrap it around your mug instead. You clear your throat as you do so, looking for something less intense to say. “I uh, I guess for now I’d just like to stick to gender-neutral stuff, okay?”

Moon nods eagerly. “Of course! Easy-peasy. I can even remedy what I said earlier if you’d like!” He’s muttering to himself before you can even tell him that that’s not really necessary. “Oh—uhm… hmmm…. what’s a good neutral alternative to ‘Queen’…”

Sun instantly starts listing suggestions. “Monarch. Ruler. Sovereign.” His rays spin a quick round, a tell that he’s taking his internal database search online for more information. “‘Caln’ is apparently a monarch word based on the Q slash K sound of Queen and King, if that sounds better to your ear.”

He suddenly barks a laugh and your brows raise in interest. “What?”

He shakes his head dismissively, still chuckling. “Nothing, just… Quora results. The questions some people pose are truly something.”

Moon’s interest is piqued. “What’d you find that was funny enough to make you laugh?”

Sun’s voice shifts to his ‘default human’ impression. “If Queen Elizabeth announced she was gender fluid, dot-dot-dot…”

You stifle a laugh. “That’s certainly one way to pose the question.”

“What's the rest say?” Moon asks.

Sun waves his hand in dismissal. “I don’t know. The preview was humorous, but I wasn’t compelled to follow the link to the full thing. Quora gives me a headache. I’ve moved on.”

Moon playfully pouts as Sun expands his list of suggestions. “Excellency. Majesty. Highness. Grace. Eminence. …Quing?… Oh, apparently ‘Caln’ is queer. Wait, do they mean queer created or queer exclusive…”

You interject before he spends the next hour falling down a rabbit hole of royal terms. “You could go the meme-y route and call me Liege.”

Moon’s attention shifts back toward you. “Is that one gender neutral?”

“I… think so?” You shrug. “Sounds neutral enough to me. Though I honestly wouldn’t mind a bit of masculinity to counterbalance the way I’m… feeling right now.”

He nods sagely as Sun’s list of suggestions continues to grow, getting more and more obscure as he delves further and further into his search.

You can’t help but laugh a bit as you dig a spoon into your oats, beginning to breathe easier with the reminder that you’re in very considerate company.

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I’ll be back in a few days with part 4! You can also find my notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog’s pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Image Sources: x - x - x

[becca-e-barnes]

Hiii I have nothing to do at work so of course I have to day dream about different dark!Bucky scenarios (I do not condone cheating but this is really hot to me aaaa)😩 like imagine your husband and Bucky have always had an ongoing rivalry, They worked together, went to college together, hated every ounce of each other. One night you’re at the bar with your friends when Bucky comes over to you and buys you drink after drink after drink, taking you back to his house. He’s throwing you on his bed and ripping your clothes off, kissing you hungrily. “Get ready baby, this is gonna be much tougher than you’re used to.” “Please.” “Yeah? Is he not satisfying you baby? This pretty pussy deserves to be treated right, luckily I’m here now.” He’s so rough with you, fucking you harshly, the dirty talking is driving you crazy. He’s so cocky and cruel, bending you in several different positions and pounding into you for hours. If only you had seen the camera… (part 2??? Bucky making your husband watch the video 😭) -💒

This, a thousand times over 😵‍💫 and I can just imagine throwing all the stuff at him that you wouldn't dream of doing with your husband. Maybe your husband really doesn't let you explore your fantasies and if you've got one chance to do that, you're determined to take it.

Especially if Bucky is quite a bit rougher than you're used to while still being so respectful. He got the impression that you're not being fucked how you want to be and he wants to give you everything you dream of when you touch yourself. He's not necessarily rough with you because he wants to be. He's rough because that's what you want.

If he's feeling extra filthy too, he'd fuck you in the bed you share with your husband. You're on your hands and knees on the bed, presenting your glistening pussy to him, enjoying the sensation of him smearing your arousal over the tip of his cock.

"Fuck, do you know how bad I want this?" He hums quietly, trailing his leaking tip over your slick folds. "Do you know how badly I want to press inside you? You've made such a mess. Bet you feel like fuckin' Heaven and he doesn't even appreciate it."

With his free hand, Bucky grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing just enough that you feel it hurt.

"Don't want to rush this though." His tip lines up with your entrance, teasing the little fluttering hole and God, you're desperate. "I want to take my time. Want to make sure every time your head hits this pillow, you remember how it feels to have every. Last. Inch of me slip inside you."

You can't have him wait any longer though so you press your hips back onto him, feeling just the tip slide into you. "Good girl, that's it. Fuck yourself on me. You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked right for a change."

He's not wrong. You couldn't stop now, even if you wanted to so you keep going, taking all of him. The weight of him inside you is delightful.

"Oh God, you're perfect. You feel like you were made for me." He doesn't dare move. Instead, he takes a second to just enjoy the wet heat of your body and the snug fit of you around his cock.

"You are. A fucking. Dream." He tests the water with a few shallow thrusts, rutting his tip against the sweet spot inside you. You're so wet, you're convinced you must be dripping onto the sheets and your eyes roll back in your head at the very thought.

This is how sex is supposed to feel. You didn't think you could crave anyone the way you do now. "Buck, please." You whimper, rolling your hips back against him, pressing him as deep inside you as possible. "Don't be gentle."

You hear him groan and feel his fingertips trail down your spine, making you arch your back into the bed. "Is that what you need, sweetheart? Can tell just by looking at you that you need it hard and fast and rough tonight. I'll be gentle with you tomorrow morning, I promise. Gotta work some of that tension out of you first. Bet you haven't cum in months."

You don't like that he can tell so easily but you're not surprised either. The first sharp thrust knocks the air from your lungs but all you hear is a pathetic sob, followed by the crack of a hard spank to your ass and the blossoming, stinging pain he's inflicted.

You're not surprised that it only makes you wetter.

[buttercup-art]

hey

[copiawife]

i told my mom that i felt sad because i'm not connecting with anyone in my classes and she said "well just keep being yourself!" like i hate to say it but i think that's the issue </3

[girlivealwaysbean]

i just came out to a real life person and i think im having a heart attack

[piratebay]

my therapist asking if i'd tried anything other than meds drugs and/or alcohol to sleep before. like bruh. the list is long. the nighttime ritual i had as a child worked most of the time but since then nothing really has been that effective. also probably because i haven't been able to form any routine on my own without outside reinforcement. ever. much less one that works in the long term. :smiles beautifully:

[wild-at-mind]

I just read an article (/book extract) where the byline made it sound like it would explain how to find out about sex parties in your area if you're New. 'People always ask me this first' yadda yadda. So I clicked in, all intrigued, but the answer was literally 'It's easy, just...go to one! ^^' (Great thnx.)

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Daily "avoiding hopelessness" checklist

Hey, friends. I know I've been really struggling to look towards the future with any kind of hope, so here are some little things I've been trying to do every day that might help you, too.

Accept that your productivity might look weird right now. Don't expect yourself to act as if nothing is wrong.

Make art. I try to write something every day, even if I don't really feel like it, and I've found that once I get into it, I'm grateful I did.

Do something to plan for the future. Doesn't have to be big. Even getting some ice cream you know future you will thank you for counts.

Eat. Even if you're not hungry. I keep skipping meals because I don't feel like eating, and then I force myself to make something and realize I was absolutely starving.

Clean up one thing in your space. If doing all the dishes and sweeping the floors and putting away laundry all feel too overwhelming, try just doing one of those things.

Lean on your online and offline communities. I live in a county that voted trump by a margin of eighty percent. My world feels scary and hostile right now, and it's my communities that are helping me feel hopeful.

Try to find one thing that feels normal. One thing that feels safe and normal and helps you feel a bit more grounded. My local grocery store just got their shipment of chocolate oranges in for the season. That's my thing.

Try to find one thing to look forward to, no matter how small. My thing is checking my ao3 inbox for comments on my fics.

Love you all <3

[charmedimsure]

WE'RE OKAY || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader summary: Things go wrong during the third game word count: 2.1k warnings: mingle game, character death, blood, squid game stuff A/N: this man is the only thing in my head rn. posted this before when tags weren't updating so reposting now. also this is only sorta proofread so if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3 **this is sorta a p2 to "a welcome distraction" but can be read as standalone**

We will go hand in hand

And have fun jumping around

Round and round

The platform stops turning suddenly, and you grab onto Dae-ho to stop yourself from falling over.

"Eleven"

You and Dae-ho lock eyes for a split second before you both start looking around for more players. Together you were six, meaning you needed four more.

Gi-hun turns to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies.

"That makes us ten!" Jung-bae whimpers.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have eleven now!"

"To the green door over there! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

Before you know what's happening, Dae-ho grabs you and pulls you along after him. You rush after him into the room, pushing yourself against the wall to make room for everyone else to get inside. You look up at the man next to you before turning your head towards the beeping sound coming from the back of the room. The clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

You breathe out a sigh of relief that you made it in time, but jump and yelp when you hear the screams coming from outside the door, along with the gunshots. Looking towards the door, you watch Gi-hun's reactions as he watches the people outside. The sounds of gunshots are soon replaced with the sounds of the forklifts coming in with the coffins.

Your heart begins to race. If Dae-ho had not taken you back to his friends and added you to his team, you surely would be one of those bodies out there. You look up at Dae-ho to see him already looking down at you. He saved your life.

Dae-ho looks you over to make sure you're okay before you both look around at the others in the room with you. You smile a bit when you see the nice lady and her son with you, as well as players 120 and 095. You had watched them during the six-legged race and watching them cross the finish line had filled you with hope that you could do it too.

"You're alive thanks to me!" a voice yells from inside your room, making you and everyone else jump. You turn and see the creepy lady standing in the middle of the green room, looking you all over one by one. She speaks to Gi-hun, making everyone look at each other with a mix of fear and confusion. This lady doesn't seem to understand that it is not the time for this.

The eliminated players are announced and you are let out of the rooms. The floors are already covered in blood. Red is splattered all over the walls as a morbid reminder of what will happen to you if you lose.

Everyone steps onto the platform and it starts moving again as the music starts up. Looking around, you see that weird purple-haired guy and his friend dancing together. You don't know whether to smile that people can find happiness even in a moment like this, or to be horrified that they can dance in the blood of all those people.

The platform stops again and you are shot back into the game.

"Four"

Your team looks around at each other. Just as you're about to volunteer to find others, Young-il and Jung-bae separate, shouting about needing two more people.

The rest of you run towards an open room with a purple door, taking deep breaths. Gi-hun keeps the door open and looks outside to make sure that the others found another room in time. Right before time runs out, Dae-ho pulls Gi-hun into the room and closes the door, hearing the lock turn immediately after.

The room is tense with none of you knowing whether your friends made it in time. You look at Dae-ho, seeing the worry on his face, and gently take his hand. He looks towards you and squeezes your hand, not letting go even when the doors unlock and you are let out.

Dae-ho starts yelling for Young-il and Jung-bae before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see that both of them are alive.

Young-il turns to Jun-hee, asking her if she is alright.

"Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is seven, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

You all smile as you understand what he's saying, and Jun-hee holds her swelling stomach, a warm smile on her face.

The number for the next round is three, making it easy for your team to split up into two groups and get into rooms with time to spare. You nearly cry as the mother and son are reunited after the round ends, and Dae-ho pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

Your team grows after that, quietly adding the old lady and her son and players 120 and 095.

The platform starts to spin again as the next round starts.

"I hate this fucking song," you mumble under your breath.

The platform stops as the voice announces the next group size.

"Seven"

"Two men and five women! Go!" Gi-hun yells to the team.

"Which two men?" Jung-bae asks.

"I'm going with my mom!" Yong-sik says, holding onto his mother tightly.

Dae-ho holds up your joined hands. "I'm coming." You're dragged in the direction of the group as you run along. Dae-ho opens an orange door, but stops seeing that it's full.

The old man from before pushes Dae-ho out of the doorway before shutting the door. You keep Dae-ho from falling and instead pull him in the direction of an open room that player 120 found. As you run, you can hear the voice counting down. You make it with just a few seconds to spare.

You sigh in relief, but freeze once you turn around. Instead of two men and five women, the room contains two men and four women. Player 120 is standing near the door, ready to run outside when a man pushes her into the room and closes the door just in time for them to lock.

The crying eyes of player 095 look through the slot in the door.

"Young-mi!" Player 120 screams, running towards the door and desperately trying to open it.

The girl outside continues crying until a gunshot is heard and she slides down the door.

Player 120 screams as the woman cries with her son over their lost friend. Dae-ho pulls you close to him as player 120 starts screaming at the man who came in. As sad as his is to see the girl die, he's relieved that it wasn't you out there looking at him through the slot.

The doors unlock and you walk out silently. The others smile when they find you, but immediately notice the missing girl and frown. Without a word, you all step up onto the platform once more as the voice announces that this will be the last round and the music starts up again.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae asks Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

You and Dae-ho look at each other. He tightens his grip on your hand, silently telling you that he will bring be with you. You nod at him and get ready to run.

"Two"

Everyone immediately starts running towards the doors in a mad sprint. You stay with Dae-ho, keeping your hands together so you don't get separated.

Dae-ho opens a red door, but you're pushed aside before you can get in with him. You look up as another man pushes inside the room and closes him and Dae-ho in.

Fear like you've never known before takes over your body. You're about to die. Dae-ho can be heard inside the room, screaming your name and trying to open the door, but the man keeps him from getting out. The voice starts to count down from ten. As you accept you're fate, a pair of hands grab you and drag you into a yellow room, throwing you in before throwing the lone person inside out and closing the door.

You gasp for air as you pull yourself off the floor, staying on your hands and knees as you try to get a grasp of what just happened. Someone had saved your life.

Turning to see who your savior is, your eyes grow wide when you read the '246' on his chest.

He kneels beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

You nod frantically. "Thanks to you."

The gunshots begin outside and you throw your arms around the man in front of you. You'd be one of them if it weren't for him.

"Thank you," you cry into his shoulder as he hugs you back.

"There was enough time. I watched you get pushed and I just had to do something," he says.

You want to say thank him a million times, but words won't come out as you just stay in each others arms.

Two rooms over, Dae-ho's knuckles are stained red with blood as he punches the door over and over. There's no way that you made it in time, he knows that. He turns and screams at the other player in his room for pushing you, attempting to hit him before his cries take over and he falls into the corner of the room, sobbing into his sleeve.

The doors are eventually unlocked and everyone makes their way out. Dae-ho walks out slowly, looking at the floor and feeling empty. He couldn't save you.

The others run over to him, but they all frown and let out a few gasps when they see that the other person coming out of his room isn't you.

Dae-ho finally looks up at his team, though they all look blurry from the tears in his eyes. He must look like a wreck, but he can't even bring himself to care about that.

Jung-bae walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Dae-ho breaks down again, sobbing into the shoulder of his fellow ex-marine. The area around them is silent except for Dae-ho's cries. That is until door opens behind them and a small gasp is heard in front of him. Dae-ho looks up at the woman holding her son and sees her looking past him.

"Dae-ho."

Dae-ho freezes when he hears the voice. He slowly turns around, not wanting to get his hopes up and believe that it's you. But there you, alive and standing in front of him. You look at each other for a few seconds before Dae-ho rushes towards you, throwing his arms around you as you do the same.

The man breaks down again as he hugs you. "I thought you were dead. I'm so sorry."

You rub his back as he cries, quietly telling him that it's okay.

He pulls back and cups your face with his hands, making sure to look you over. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Dae-ho, it wasn't your fault," you reassure him. "And I'm okay. Everything is alright."

He nods, though tears continue to fall down his cheeks. "How did you find a room?"

You smile and look behind you at the man walking towards your group. "This man here picked me up off the floor and saved me at the last moment."

Player 246 just smiles. Dae-ho pulls you back into a hug as he thanks the man over and over for saving your life.

The other players start filtering out of the room. You break away from Dae-ho and pull him along with you towards the door.

As you're walking, he throws an arm around you and pulls you against him, placing a desperate kiss on your forehead that makes you blush. "I can't believe you're alive," he whispers against your skin.

You smile at him and take his hand, squeezing it. "You said it yourself, we're going to get out of here. Together."

Dae-ho keeps you close to him as you walk, the others from your team patting you on the shoulder as they tell you they're happy you made it. Dae-ho keeps his eyes on you the whole time, determined to get the both of you out of here. Today.

~

Dae-ho tags: @gudfornuthin

[caramelcoloredkiss]

hello! i saw ur post and im excited to read ur works so i decided to give u a request! hope u dont mind :3

m!reader who is really slim, not to the point he's unhealthy but just think of him having every girl's dream body, and then there's m!reader's bf who wants to see m!reader under all that baggy clothing but doesn't want to be too pushy so he waits until they finally decide to make love and the moment m!reader's bf sees such a heavenly sight, all he wants to mark him inside out!! kinks r up to u but i do would request creampie :3

First request from our lovely anon! Your wish is my command <3

"𝐻𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓉 ٭"

[OC!Malcom x Sub!Male reader]

"You were always avoiding the topic of sex when it came to your boyfriend, but being so stressed over the course of your semester. You just needed something to relieve stress. Luckily your boyfriend is just so happy to give it to you.

Contains: 18+ , sweet -> smutty, body worship, size difference, creampie, praise, insecure+anxiety filled!reader

Let me know if you have any feed back or criticism! Or just how you feel about this~

───────────────────────────

If there were a man that knew how to make you feel loved, it was your boyfriend.

Malcom was infatuated by your very existance. The way you laughed, spoke, and moved— by God it was like you put a curse on him. The smell of your cologne and shampoo had filled his senses; he had always held you close like it was his last.

You knew his love was bigger than anything else, but it always caught you off guard whenever he said it so casually. How were you able to get your hands in a man that had the biggest heart in the world? You weren't so sure.

"It's so unfair!"

You had felt yourself flinch from the sudden declaration; it was your friend, who had been laying on the carpeted ground of the living room in your apartment. She had began to talk about her exe's while you both worked on a document for your college assignment, honestly if you didn't know any better— she probably only came here to vent about more of her failed relationships.

"You seriously wouldn't believe it! The fucking asshole had the audacity to comment about my sex life! Like— if you want pussy that badly go to a prostitute! Or all the other fucking girls who you keep switching between every week!"

She huffed, pressing her face on the pillow she had taken from the sofa to muffle her uncontrollable yelling. Sofie had always been a bit easily agitated, but today was her last straw apparently.

"Why'd you even date him?"

You asked, pausing your typing on your laptop to lean back on the sofa while she rolled around on the floor, kicking her legs in the air. Your friend let out a sigh and took the pillow off her face, she looked extremely tired, did the situation really bother her that much?

"Look man.. He had good dick! But the asshole had something worth bragging and decided it was his whole personality! He was pretty big too so—"

Too much details!

"Okay stop! I don't wanna hear the details of you sex with him."

You shudder at the very thought of it, this girl was shameless, but she was your bestfriend so you couldn't complain about your choices.

"Whateverrr—"

Sofie sat up from the floor and stood up, heading towards your kitchen— your semi-kitchen anyways. She grabbed the caramel pudding that was stashed underneath, it was still so weird how she could just find the snacks Malcom buys you.

" anyways I probably shouldn't complain to you, not when your boyfriend was sent by God apparently. Seriously! He keeps buying you shit, my boyfriends couldn't even buy me flowers!"

"It's because he's nice to me, besides I buy him just as much the amount as he does for me."

Sofie teasingly rolled her eyes and peeled the packaging seal of the pudding, grabbing a spoon to eat.

"Mhm sure. Oh yeah— he dicked you down yet?"

You coughed out loud, choking in your own saliva; caught off guard by her words. Did this girl just wear no filter whenever you were around? Usually she was more shy with people.

"𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘦! Why are you so sex craved!?—"

"I am not! I just haven't heard much from you about yours, is he that bad?—"

"—well I wouldn't know! "

You both paused, sitting in silence. You didn't mean to say that—it was true but it didn't have to be said!

Closing your laptop, you put it besides you, theirs no way you could work under these way too personal questions.

"Oh, really? I heard Malcolm was pretty good. Did he not want to? Kinda fucked up if so." Sofie said, scooping a spoonful of pudding in the cup to shove in her mouth. Walking back to you to sit on the couch.

You shook your head, it wasn't like he didn't want to have sex with you. It was the fact that you were too scared to even show your body to him, you were slim, yeah it was almost every girls ideal body type— but you didn't even know if it was 𝘩𝘪𝘴. You were already in disbelief by the fact that he even reciprocated feelings for you, sex was the last thing that came into your mind.

But it didn't mean you could avoid the image of his muscular arms caging you while you layed helpless at his mercy, not mentioning the fact that he constantly walked around shirtless in your apartment— You fought your urges every day at that point.

"Well if not, I say you should, we already finished our exams you might as well get some relaxation in your life before our semester is over— we only have to submit a few of our projects left anyways."

You felt your cheeks burn, it was ridiculous. The thought of finally making love to him made you feel completely weak, you weren't even sure if he wanted to have sex with you.

"—He's probably been waiting for you to give permission or something."

You could only hope she was right.

This is embarrassing.

You layed on your bed for what felt like hours, waiting for him.

"Why is he taking so long? Ugh, I might throw up."

Sitting up, you moved from your bed to open your bed side cabinet— you had bought some lube and condoms from the store just a bit earlier, having to go to the counter to purchase the said items made you want to curl up into a ball, for fucks sakes—

Of course the cashier wasn't the only one to witness you buy them!

You were an adult.

You weren't supposed to be ashamed for buying them, or even about sex in general! But you were a virgin, someone who had stayed far away from any form of sexual intimacy for the sake of your own dignity— and now you were offering it to 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"Calm down, [Name]. If he doesn't want to that's fine, you can just cope with it and move on!"

You felt yourself shaking, dammit you felt pathetic. It wasn't your fault your mom wanted to keep you safe! Maybe this was a bad idea, if he didn't say anything then that probably meant he—

You felt a sudden pressure wrap around your waist, the figure burying it's nose at the crook of you neck.

"Hi baby.. I missed you.."

You made a quick reaction and closed your cabinet, praying he hadn't just seen what you prepared.

"M-Malcom! Hi— did your practice go well?"

Turning your body around to look at him, lifting his face off your neck—you gently caressed his face with incredible amounts of affection. While he had determinely locked his arms around your waist, seemingly needy for your touch.

"It was fine.. Took too long, it was a pain in the ass.. "

You nodded, as he leaned his face against your hand. Malcom had always been a bit clingy when he was exhausted— desperate to touch you and to feel his cold hands on your warm skin.

Malcom was beautiful, he had bronze skin that developed from all the times he bathed underneath the sun, and green eyes that just lit up every time he had something say. His hair was flawless, his sister had always taken care of it; dark brown and with a few strands of his hair framing his face— not to mention the mole underneath his lips. [Name] was desperate to see what else is underneath just his beauty, what would he look like when they were indulging in sinful acts, what would he whisper, what would he do.

—You wanted to know...

But, he looked so tired. Probably desperate to just lay in bed and cuddle, we're you really gonna be selfish enough to take that away from him? You didn't want that, so maybe it was alright to wait a bit longer.

"[Name], I heard from Sofie you wanted to talk to me about something.. "

Malcom whispered, pressing his lips against the palm of your hand while he looked down at you with half lidded eyes, not bothering to break eye contact.

Ah, so Sofie had been out to get you.

"Its— not important, you're probably exhausted right? Let's just go to bed—"

As you were about to pull away from his hold, he tightens his arms. Damn his muscular body!

Malcom was determined to get your words out of you, a tired Malcom wasn't easy to deal with.

"You know I don't like you lying to me, spit it out, hm?"

He kept his body firm and pressed you against his chest, he smelt good, he probably showered before coming here.

"I just— it's nothing."

Malcom sighed, giving you one last look of dissatisfaction. He let's go of your hug, which made you whine a bit, his body was warm! Before sitting down at the edge of your bed, pulling you by your arm to fall on his lap. Fuck, this wasn't the best position for someone who had just been craving to get fucked by the man in front of him. Your face was getting warmer and warmer each time he looked at you, this was gonna be hard.

"Please baby? I just wanna know what's botherin' you.. That's all."

He looked a bit sad, wrapping his arms around you waist once more to pull you closer to him, with your legs in between his hips. This man was seriously not helping you.

You let out a sigh, finally giving up on holding your ground. It wasn't like it was that strong anyways.

"I-Its just that, I noticed how we were both a bit stressed out during the semester.. And it made me think, we hadn't really done much to relieve ourselves... So I thought.. Maybe you wanted to.. "

"Make love?"

You blinked, his eyes were soft, but they looked crazed— like he had been waiting so long for this very moment. It honestly made you feel a bit nervous, you weren't prepared for the reaction he would give.

"Ah— yeah, I wanna make love to you, please.. I wanna feel you." You could die from over heating.

But that seemed to be the words he needed to hear, his lips pulling up to a soft smile.

"You could've just said so, I've been wanting for you.."

Before you could respond, he took your lips.

You held onto his bicep to avoid collapsing into his arms, reciprocating the heated kiss. Your abdomen felt like it was burning, just as you were desperately trying to taste every inch of his mouth. His tongue was dominating, sucking onto yours as your salivas was mixed with the messy kiss, occasional gasps and moans leaving your lips.

"Been waiting..so long— fuck."

"ah.. haa..Malcom—"

He pulled away, before returning for another serving, you could feel your head spin a bit. This much more intense your previous make out sessions.

You pull away this time, the string of saliva showing the previous connection of your lips. The illuminating lamp at the top of your cabinet was the only thing that lit up your otherwise pitch dark room. It has how you could see the look of hunger Malcom gave you, he didn't move his face any farther from just an inch, you could feel his hot breath hit your face. He pressed his lips on your right cheek, giving it a wet kiss before lowering his attention to you other half.

"You're so responsive.. [Name], strip for me, yeah? ."

"I-"

You couldn't believe this, when did Malcom become so blunt.

Despite your thoughts, you grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, it was pretty big compared to you. If anything all of your clothes were to big for you, hiding your body unintentionally. So when you had pulled it off, Malcom stared. He looked so deeply enamored by how your body was made— how well it was made for him.

"You look so beautiful.. Such a pretty body, been hiding their away from for too long haven't you? [Name]."

He connected his lips to your neck, suckling at your skin as he licked and nipped the same spot, stopping and moving to the next. You let out small moans, which made you bite your lip to silence it, but Malcom didn't seem to appreciate it— pulling his lips away from your awfully sensitive skin.

"Don't do that, I wanna hear all you pretty sounds, I want everyone to know how good you feel.. "

You could only reluctantly nod, and let your whined moans strain— your throat from how intensely Malcom was sucking at your skin.

He lowered his attention each time he successful left a mark, using his calloused hands to rub the side of you waist, lowering his hand to squeeze your ass, which made you bite back a squeal.

"You're so cute [Name], wanna see all of you okay?"

You could only nod again, as he gently pulled you shorts down along with you briefs. Showing the obvious erection that had built up throughout the whole thing.

"Such a cute cock.. "

"H-Hey, stop saying embarrassing things.. "

Malcom let out a chuckle, as he kissed your jaw, letting your clothes fall on the floor. He lifts you up and lays your back on the bed as gently as he could, he supports himself on his knees while pulling his shirt off, throwing it carelessly on the floor along with the others.

"You are so fucking beautiful— [Name]"

He leans down to kiss your stomach, going back up to kiss you cheek. Why was he just so loving?

𝘖𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

"I-I bought lube, it's in the cabinet, s-so it'll be easier to..you know."

Malcom sat back up and reached his hand to slide open the cabinet.

"Came prepared huh, baby. Want we to stretch you out?"

"Y-Yeah.."

Malcom smiles, grabbing the tube of lube and squeezing a generous amount on his hand, spreading it throughout his fingers.

"Gonna slide it in okay?"

"O-okay"

He leans back down to hold you and just as he promised, he slid one of his finger in—fuck his finger was bigger than you thought.

"Hm.. You tried stretch yourself out.."

You nodded, burrying your face in his shoulder while he pumped his finger in and out of your hole.

"M' fingers weren't—ah!— e-enough.."

"You did good, I'll do the rest.."

You gasped and wrapped you hands around his torso, your nails piercing at his back, but he didn't seem to mind, only inserting a second finger in to thrust in your hole. The cold lube and his thick fingers were going to kill you, this was too much of a combination.

Malcom was a lot bigger than you thought, he was practically hiding your body from just how broad his shoulders were, not to mention the tent in his sweatpants weren't going unnoticed by just how— big it was..

"Aah—! f-fuck Mal— why are your fingers so big!?"

You screamed, feeling practically all three of his finger simultaneously out thrusting in and out of your hole. This was unfair, you were going to cum untouched at this point!

"You're just small, baby. S'not my fault you're so reactive.." He grinned, his canines displaying. This bastard!

"You—ahh!— wha—"

He hit your spot, and he didn't stop—curling his fingers to press your prostate, which just made you cry out a moan, your toes curling from the unexpected pleasure. This was too much.

He kept going, pumping his fingers and putting pressure on your prostate.

"M-Mal I'm gonna!—"

You came, squirts of white sticky cum came out the tip of your cock, you were holding on for so long. But Malcom looked satisfied, his smile never faltering as he kissed your tear filled eyes, licking away the salty water.

"You did so well baby, m' gonna fill you up now alright?—you look so pretty while cumming."

He pulled his fingers out of your hole, much to your disappointment. Malcom slid his sweatpants off along with his boxers, pumping his cock a few times before grabbing a pack of condom in your cabinet.

He was big, it was obvious, you knew it was going to be possible— but seeing it is leaving you speeches.

"Like what you see? It's all yours honey."

Malcom tears the condom with his teeth, it was hot. You weren't even going to lie about that, but seeing how he was rolling the condom on his cock made you feel dissapointed— you wanted to feel everything, his cock and his cum. You wanted to know how much he could shove inside you before it was too much.

"Ah... C-Can you not wear the condom?"

He looked back with a bit of confusion.

"Hm? Didn't you but this..?"

"Y-Yeah but, i— I want you to fill me."

Something seemed to have snapped inside of Malcom, he let out a small chuckle and dove back to your lips, giving it a rushed kiss.

"I'll fill you to the brim, don't worry baby.. "

He pulls the condom out his cock, throwing it the the side in favor of lining his leaking tip at your gaping hole. Malcom grabbed your thighs and pushed your knees to your chest, letting your cock lay pathetically on your stomach. You sucked in a deep breath as he slowly pushed his cock in.

You let out a shrilled moan, throwing your head back against the sheets of the bed while Malcom had leaned to connect your lips to his, trying to distract you from the hissing pain that was your asshole.

"Relax baby, it'll be in soon.. "

He kept kissing your lips, as you had wrapped your arms round his shoulders, clawing at his back. You would feel bad if it weren't for the incredible feeling of his cock filling your body, it was big—so big.

After a few minutes, you could Malcom's movements stop.

"It's in— m'gonna move now, alright baby?"

"haa—o-okay.."

Malcom's thrust were slow at first, which made you gasp and moan whenever he penetrated in. After a while his pace began quicker, making his cock go deeper and deeper in you.

"S-Shit, you're tight— fuck, you feel heavenly."

You could only cry out, as his cock moved deeper in, feeling every push that rush all the way to your throat. Both of you sweating, panting, and moaning about how good it felt.

His eyes glued onto yours, never breaking eye contact, his hair sticking slightly to his face as he caged you beneath his arms, this was like a fantasy. His cock was moving in and out as he whispered praises to you.

"You're so beautiful, fuck."

And—

"C-can't believe—shit— you were hiding such a sexy body away from me, hun. Not gonna stop until your filled and full, alright?—"

This bastard, acting like he could just say shit like that without making your heart drum. Malcom had kept thrusting his hips, chasing his climax just as much you craved to be stuffed full of his cum.

After a few more thrusting he came, strings of his thick warm cum filling you— to the point where it leaked out of you. But Malcom kept this thrusting, shoving his cum inside whilst latching his lips into yours.

Along with his cum, you came with him, your cum spraying pathetically on your stomach as it went limp.

And finally— he stops, using his cock to plug his cum inside, preventing it to spill out of you. You were full, the feeling of the warm liquid sitting inside your hole as his cock remained inside, you would die from this if you could.

You were both left panting, trying to catch your breath before he grins back down at you.

"How about another round, baby?"

You sipped the mug of coffee that your boyfriend had left you, even leaving a note as a good morning. He had only left a bit ago but he was planning to stay inside the dorm with you to have a date night. You couldn't wait.

A sudden ringing interrupted your thoughts, you checked to see your phone— it was Sofie.

"I should probably thank her.. "

You answered the call and pressed your phone to your ear.

"Yo, [Name]! Hopefully your fuck session went well, I heard it all the way next door! "

"Sofie I'm going to fucking kill you."

✩꙳I hope you enjoyed that! I had never wrote sex scenes before so I hope I did well~

-> Feel free to request more! Be as detailed as you'd like.

[coquettepascal]

frosted kisses

pt. ii to texas sweet

summary: after some serious distance, a nightmarish evening at the miller household leaves you and joel closer than before.

tags: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, fingering, pulling out, missionary, almost oral, joel is a consent king, gentle!joel, soft!joel, proud dad joel returns, tommy is here, so are sarah and ellie, don't ask how old they are i really can't tell you, tension, sexual tension, kind of angst(?), realistic sex, reader is in a panic as usual, but joel is really sweet, kissing, neck kisses, biting, scratching, mention of joel's dad gut (yum), joel in a wifepleaser, use of darlin' and baby and honey, one use of good girl, praise kink (a little), takes place during july (texas sweet was in june)

a/n: thank you to my biggest cheerleaders @mochamadeleines and @pascalssbabyy <3 also thank you to everyone for being so patient for this sequel. i hope you all enjoy !! :]

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

wc: 7.6k (sorry :3)

It is way too hot outside to be doing anything but laying in an ice bath, yet here you are leaving at 9am for your shift. The walk to the bus stop isn’t bad, but it does mean you have to walk by Joel’s house.

Joel.

He never followed through on that promise of taking you out for dinner, but it’s only been a month since that night. The two of you had been friendly in passing, since it’s hard to avoid one another, but you can see the avoidance in his eyes. A little while ago you looked up when “neighbours day” was, remembering how he said to let him know. But, it turns out that’s all the way in May, and it’s currently July… So. 

So you’ve been avoiding each other a little. That’s fine, it was a weird situation for the two of you to find yourselves in. You stared at Joel’s grey-blue truck when it rolled back down the street that night, the headlights flashing yellow on your walls. The hand resting on your chin still smelled like him, like his dick. 

Honestly, everything on you smelled like him for a little while, your shirt especially, but also your skin. Joel wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he physically was. Watching him from your window started to become an obsession, seeing the sweat soak through his t-shirt when he’d mow the lawn on the weekends. You couldn’t stop watching him, remembering how needy he was.

Your achy need for him was a constant at night, only competing for dominance over your mind by wondering how needy Joel was.

Nothing could drive the memory of his whimpers and groans out of your mind, the throb of his cock in your hand, and the way his hands twitched and grasped at nothing when he came. It would attack you at random times throughout the day, especially when you were on the bus coming home from work. Most of your days are boring, repetitive. The same texts from your mom, the same job, the same… everything. Joel was the most exciting thing for you, but that was short lived. It was just one evening.

It’s kind of fucked up how you just have to move on, sweaty palmed every morning as you pass by Joel’s house. It isn’t even like he’s home when you walk by, he starts work at around 8am. You would know because Tommy’s truck is noisy as all hell, it works great as a last minute alarm. 

Or at least he isn’t usually home. 

“Mornin’ darlin,” calls Joel as you step off your porch. 

His voice is just as warm and sweet as ever, like the sun today if it were kinder, but there’s an extra cheerful lilt in it. Turning your head, you see Joel still in his pajamas. It’s a weekday, so that’s odd, but what’s more odd is that he’s hanging balloons outside. 

A light grey wife pleaser stretches around his torso, showing off his thick arms and shoulders. This is not something you’ve seen Joel wear before, but he must have slept in it if the plaid pajama pants are anything to go by. 

It’s the polite thing to do to go over there and say hello, right? That’s what your mom would want you to do, to be neighborly. You’re not going over there to check him out. That would be crazy.

Crossing the grass from your house to his is easy, but spit is all caught in your throat by the time you get over to him. Jesus, are you drooling? 

“Hi Joel,” you manage to reply to his greeting as he tapes another balloon up to the overhang of his garage, “what are the balloons for?”

He grunts as he twists to fix the tape, the balloon nearly falling on his head. The way he’s stretching up is making the wife pleaser stretch up, exposing the skin of his waist. Your fingers twitch, wanting to touch there again. It makes your mind spin, thinking about how your hands have been there, that he knows what it’s like to have you on him. An explicit secret that neither of you share. You wish he was facing the other way so you could see his tummy, the plushness of it was so comfy against your arm.

“S’for Sarah,” he finally responds, turning to face you. 

And oh… oh that’s why he’s so damn happy. He had talked about it in passing a few times during the small talk you had made. Sarah’s birthday was in July and she planned on coming home for it, Joel was so bright everytime he talked about it. His smile is so much bigger when he talks about his daughters.

“Is she coming home today?” You ask, shifting on your feet. Joel nods, tearing off another piece of tape with his teeth.

“Uh-huh, pickin’ her up around noon. We’re doin’ a dinner tonight,” he says. You can see how his eyes are a little unfocused, excited. He sticks the tape to the knot of the balloon and starts to continue his sentence, but is cut off by the front door opening.

The sound catches your attention, your eyes flicking to the door. You didn’t see his truck in the driveway, but there’s Tommy Miller in all his glory.

You won’t lie to yourself, the Miller family clearly has good genetics. Tommy’s got these gorgeous waves in his black hair, and a charming smile too. But, he isn’t nearly as soft as Joel is. Not a player, but Joel’s been worn in by 2 daughters and a divorce, like a well loved plushie. Tommy hasn’t been worn in by anything, in fact he’s known for wearing things out. As much as you’ve heard the whispers at neighborhood events, the other Miller brother has never interested you. Tommy, of course, has shown interest in you once or twice. A few bottles in and he’ll talk to anything.

Today though, Tommy is behaving. He flashes you a kind smile, and nods.

“Hey neighbor-girl,” he greets.

You almost snort. You know Tommy knows your name, but he’s being weird. Did Joel tell him? Probably not. Do brothers share that sort of information? You’re getting sweaty again–

“Saw the flowers y’bought Ole Joel,” Tommy grins, “thought maybe his ex’d dropped by.”

Oh. Oh thank god. Thank god the flowers gave it away.

Joel snorts and then scowls at Tommy, shaking his head. He mutters something about you “having a name,” and suddenly all you can hear is the blood in your veins. A hot rush flies over you, but you’re flushed from the sun anyways. What difference will a blush make? It’s not that obvious. 

Distracted with your anxiety around the two, you barely realize that Tommy is scolding Joel now.

“S’nice girl gave you flowers and y’ain’t even invited her to the dinner tonight?” Tommy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyes flash to his arms and Jesus does being brothers mean you’re both built as fuck? 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice tight, “I was midway through a conversation with’er. Was just about to.”

They exchange a look you can’t really decipher. Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel curls his lip in response. Then, Tommy turns on his heel and goes back in the house.

The heat outside is already uncomfortable, but now you feel awkward. You didn’t realize that Joel would invite you to something. Maybe he didn’t even want to, he just didn’t want to look like an asshat in front of Tommy. Joel looks sheepish in his pajamas, downturned frown neutralizing to a softer smile. He breathes in to speak, but now you don’t want his invite.

“Joel,” you say quietly, “you don’t have to invite me. I’d hate to intrude on your family time with Sarah.” 

You really thought that you’d want to speak to Joel after all this time, but this feels humiliating. A pity invite to his daughter’s birthday dinner? It’s not what you expected, or wanted. As much as you’d like to see Sarah, something about it feels wrong. What would you say?

“Hey, it's been awhile. How’s college been? Good! Aw, I’m glad. Yeah last time I saw your dad I jerked him off. Oh, you’re in STEM?”

No, that’s not what you want. He looks like he’s going to protest, but you have to shut him down. You’ve never really spoken to his other daughter, Ellie. It feels like a nightmare waiting to happen.

“I’m just your neighbor,” you wave your hand, as if you could make this go away.

Joel’s brows furrow, his mustache curling back downwards with his frown. Skittishly, his eyes flick away.

“I… I’d like it if y’came. Even if we’re just neighbors,” Joel says. He seems embarrassed about inviting you, a red hue glowing beneath the sweat on his neck. 

Alone, in front of the garage, it feels like he’s under you again. Why is he so shy? So bashful? Something in you is frustrated. You’ve been waiting for a month for any scraps, anything more than neighborly chit-chat, and now you have to turn him down. Doesn’t he realize you’ve been waiting for him? 

You don’t want to be just neighbors with this Joel, you want more. You want to know him more than just as “hot-single-dad-next-door.”

You want to know him the way you did when you were behind him on the couch.

But… Maybe this is Joel. You saw the pictures all over his house, and he runs a company with his brother. Family is clearly everything to him, and even if this isn’t a dinner-date like he promised, this is something more. It’s closer for him, this is his own version of pulling you in.

Besides, your mom would want you to say yes. It’s polite, right?

You concede to Joel’s wishes, as much as you want something else. He smiles really big when you agree, a shy “okay” leaving you. It’s not like you could ignore him anyways, not with the way his wife pleaser is stretched around him so… pleasingly.

He tells you that there’s a colour theme of black and blue, since Sarah wants everyone to match in the pictures. Joel starts to blab about what a good photographer she is, but you actually shut him down this time, so as to not miss your bus.

—

Somehow, standing on Joel’s porch is a lot worse than last time. You don’t have a bunch of flowers for your neighborly crush, or a set of hands to ease his back. All you have is the guilt in your gut for showing up at his daughter’s birthday dinner. 

It took you almost 45 minutes to pick an outfit. He mentioned blue and black, but didn’t mention what shade of blue. Everything you had felt either too dressy, or was literally pajamas. Eventually you found something that worked, but now you’re in your own head. Will Joel think this is nice? Does Joel even think you’re pretty in the first place? You can’t remember, your mind is blanking. 

Jesus, chill out. You’re going over for dinner, and this isn’t even about you. 

Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you knock.

“I’ll get it!!” A voice yells from inside. Not Joel’s.

Tommy grins at you after he swings open the door. He’s done his hair back, instead of tying it back, and he’s wearing a blue and black, plaid, flannel. The Miller brothers seem to have a flannel for every occasion. 

“Well helloo Neighbor-Girl,” Tommy greets. His smile is devious as he stands in the doorway. 

Loud footsteps rush up behind Tommy and he’s suddenly being yanked out of your view by a hand. 

“Christ, Tommy, leave’er alone.” Joel grunts.

He isn’t wearing a flannel, which surprises you. His usual casual clothes have been replaced by a nice, black, western shirt. The stitching across the chest is done in black as well. Not unlike Tommy, is his slicked back hair. It’s short still, but it looks good pushed back. 

He tells you to keep your shoes on as he leads you to the backyard. You can’t keep your eyes off him as he and Tommy walk ahead of you. That black shirt, stretched across his back, the curls that lick upwards where his hair isn’t slicked. God, he looks stupidly good.

The house looks about the same. Same couch where you jerked him off, same table where the flowers used to sit, same pictures of his family on the walls. Everything feels different. Why doesn’t it look different?

Finally your eyes reach the backyard, and it looks magical. Various lights have been set up to create a relaxed atmosphere, with some comfortable lawn furniture set up on the deck. The barbecue is clearly cooking something, and Tommy walks to it automatically. 

Sarah and Ellie seem to be giggling to themselves, hunched over in secrecy. The sisters whisper to one another, but part once they see you.

“Hi,” Ellie says immediately, her bright eyes looking at you excitedly. You greet her in return, then wish Sarah a happy birthday.

She’s wearing a matching shirt to Joel’s, which is adorable. You know for a fact that Joel wouldn’t dress up past a button up or flannel for most occasions, meaning Sarah probably begged him for this. Even the wash of their jeans are the same. 

You’re just about to strike up a conversation with the two girls when Joel comes up behind you and squeezes your upper arm gently.

“‘M sittin’ over there, if you’d like to join,” he motions to an outdoor couch identical to the one Sarah and Ellie are sitting on.

It’s close enough that you could go back to talking with the girls, but once you’ve sat down beside Joel, they’re back to giggling. 

—

It feels like everybody knows.

This fear from earlier has manifested in front of your eyes, this awful anxiety growing. You could barely finish your food, even though it was delicious. Your mouth is dry all the time, you can’t stop drinking water. You hyperfocus on every little action you take, feeling crazy,

Tommy has been staring at you like he’s holding a secret, his eyes seem to say “I know something you don’t,” and every time you turn your back Sarah and Ellie are giggling again. For them, you try to cut some slack. Ellie is a teen, and Sarah isn’t a lot older than her, they’re young girls, of course they’re giggling. It’s Tommy who’s making you anxious, especially with the scolding scowls that Joel keeps sending him. 

The conversations are fine once you stop eating, mostly with you listening and observing the dynamic in the family. Tommy talks about this recent client he and Joel have been working with as you all eat cake, but it’s hard to focus when it feels like everybody knows what you did.

Joel seems to notice this anxiety over the course of the night, looking at you with mild concern a few times. He even asks if you’re alright at some point, holding the “darlin” for once, and you just tell him you had a rough day at work. Total lie, the only rough thing about this day is how you feel like you’re going to throw up all your food anytime someone in his family starts to perceive you.

Later in the evening, Joel rests his hand on your knee when he reaches for his beer, and you flinch. He seems caught off guard by this, but luckily nobody else notices. His eyes are apologetic as he looks at you, all brown and sappy.

Shame is burning in your veins. He’s invited you here to spend this special night with his daughter and family. He's been so kind to feed you too, but now you’ve made him feel weird too. It feels like your anxiety is leaking out of your pores, a haze of guilt clouding your mind and flooding his. Joel hasn’t seemed bothered at all tonight, or at least he hasn’t shown it. 

But there he is, accommodating you as he leans a little closer and asks;

“S’gettin’ late. I could walk y’home.”

There he is, there’s your Joel. Your Joel, the one who you know as a caring man. In any other situation this would feel like someone politely requesting you leave the party early, but not with Joel. He’s conscious of your emotions, and he can tell you’re too overwhelmed to be here anymore. There’s your sweet boy, reeling you in before it gets to be too much.

You only nod in response.

It’s a few more minutes before you get out of there, with Tommy and Ellie stacking copious amounts of leftovers for you onto paper plates, lidding them with tin foil. You use this time to talk a little with Sarah, asking about her time in college. She’s happy to share with you, and you can see Joel in her. She has the welcoming energy, the same warmth in her that pools in her eyes. Even without the outfits they would match. 

Ellie, however, must be spending too much time with Tommy. They both wear shit eating grins as they hand you the stack of plates stuffed with leftovers, with Tommy asking you to “Come back anytime.”

Blood rushes to your face fast, and you toddle off to the door quickly after saying thank you.

—

The air on the porch is cooler, but your adrenaline is making you run hot. You want to stop sweating, but all the looks and giggles and comments from the night are running through your mind repeatedly. What did they know? How did they know? Joel wouldn’t tell them anything like that, would he? Thank God you didn’t stay long enough to be in those pictures that Sarah wanted to take. 

The front door thuds shut a moment later. Joel’s steps fall heavy behind you, then he’s beside you. He’s barely touched you tonight, and even now he keeps his distance. You’re glad for it, you couldn’t have handled it anyways.

You both walk the short distance to your house, using the pathway rather than cutting through the grass like you usually do. It feels like you should be enjoying these extra seconds of time with him, but all you feel is embarrassed.

He breathes in the cool air of the summer night through his nose, chest puffing, then blows it out.

“I am so, so, fuckin’ sorry,” he says.

It takes you off guard immediately. You felt like you were acting crazy all night just by your own overthinking, but it was also fuelled by Joel’s non-chalantness about everything. He didn’t seem to notice anything all night but you and how anxious you were. This feels like the start of a conversation, so you put the leftovers down on the bottom step of your porch. 

“I– Ellie, when I brought her home after you were over last,” he begins, “she got home and saw the flowers right away. I told her not to make nothin’ of it, but she went and rattled off to Sarah and Tommy.”

Oh, okay. It was just the flowers. That’s good, at least they think you’re a lovesick loser, rather than the neighborhood floozy. 

“I told them to act right tonight, begged’em to. The three of’em have been torturing me about it, I think it’s why I avoided you,” Joel admits quietly. 

He’s doing it again, soothing your worries without meaning to. He’s a cooling balm on your burning brain, a sense of sanity cleansing you. 

Joel wasn’t ashamed of what happened between you two, his family was just being shitstirrers about him receiving flowers. It wasn’t on purpose, and most importantly–

“I’m really sorry, angel. I should have called or– or somethin. Askin’ you to come tonight was askin’ for trouble from them. My daughter’s birthday ain’t makin’ up for shit, ‘specially not when they’re actin’ like that.”

An apology. Joel Miller seemed like a solid man before, one that was dependable, polite, and kind, but now he seems near-perfect. He’s taking accountability, admitting how he acted and why, and apologizing. No wonder he has two incredible daughters, both of whom love him dearly. 

You stand there for a minute, a little speechless. You can’t remember a time that a man apologized to you and seemed to really mean it, or at least understand what he did wrong. But there’s Joel, in his black western shirt that’s rolled up his thick forearms, eyes soft and sorry as he looks at you in the blue-black night. He’s not like any man you’ve met before, not like your dad, friends back home, or your ex-boyfriend. 

Tonight isn’t like any night you’ve had in Texas so far, but for so many different reasons. You’ve had a few weird nights, sure. Like what you shared with Joel, or the time you took the wrong bus home and got lost downtown, but it’s weird in a good way.

Tonight, you get to accept an apology from a man who truly seems sorry. Who’s admitted his wrongs, explained what happened, and more than that he’s been earnest about it. You didn’t have to beg for this apology, or argue why he should apologize. He did that on his own, made up his mind, and said sorry like a real man would. 

It’s hard to make up your mind on what to do though, whether you should throw yourself at him and kiss him dizzy, or to just say “It’s alright, no hard feelings.”

You settle somewhere in the middle, taking his hands into your own. Your thumb pads rest in the centre of his palms, pushing down and massaging his hands. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, voice unsteady. 

Joel isn’t at fault for his family being devious and obviously way too interested in his love life. What he is at fault for, is avoiding you. Brave enough to apologize, pussy enough to avoid the girl he likes. You keep talking.

“I wish you would have spoken to me about this, it made me feel awkward,” you tell him.

He looks up from your joined hands then, looking at you face on. Shame is painting his features, but he’s trying to be courageous, you can tell.

There is no “I know I should have,” or “I’m sorry you felt that way.” Just his voice saying, “I’m sorry.”

No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He’s sorry without excuse or pride. 

The night air is still brisk on your skin, but Joel is warm everywhere. If you laid a hand onto his cheek you would feel hot flesh burning you back. His eyes flit from your own for a moment, decisive. 

“I’d really, really, like to have dinner with you sometime. I know tonight was a disaster, so I won’t be offended if y’say no, but… I wanna make this up to you.”

This feels so much realer than last time, like he’s gripping your heart in his hand and squeezing as it beats. Joel isn’t just saying this in passing after he’s come in your hand, he’s not awkward and politely asking to return a favor. Joel wants this, wants you, wants to have dinner with you. It probably should have occurred to you when he invited you to his daughter’s birthday dinner, but it’s only hitting you right now. No more pity invites, he wants this. 

Joel Miller wants this, he wants you, and he’s standing there with your hands in his, with his stupid soft eyes and with his heart on the line. He’s beautiful right now, standing with you as sorry as he can be. You’ll let him have this, he’s asking for it himself. Joel’s being so much braver this time around.

“I think we could do that,” you reply quietly.

His shoulders relax, brow unfurrowing. You can see the relief flood over him instantly, and he looks beautiful then too. 

It’s easy from there. Joel’s voice is so soft when he’s grateful, quiet as he thanks and arranges a date-night with you. The two of you decide that a night in would be fine, since Joel ends up working late pretty often. You’re fine with this, and would honestly rather have him to yourself anyways. No more prying eyes when you’re with him, no more over-bearing perceptions that make your brain fizzle out with anxiety. Just you and Joel. 

Admittedly, this silly crush on Joel began at a pretty surface level. Not shallow, but all you knew about him was that he was a hot dad and a nice guy. Now, though? Now he’s proven himself, shown you that there’s something in him that you can reach for. Everything’s bigger in Texas, but so far it’s only made you feel small. Being around Joel hushes you, like a kiss to a scrape. You want to know him deeper. 

He squeezes your hands, then drops them so you can pick up your leftovers. You feel a little shy turning your back to him as you make it up to your door, but then he speaks.

“You looked real pretty tonight, angel, more’n usual.”

You hope he can’t hear the squeak you make when the door shuts behind you.

—

It’s a few days later, and Joel is supposed to be coming soon. He warned that he’s been working late recently, that he probably won’t be off work until eight that evening. You don’t care, you made him dinner. 

It’s sitting in the kitchen, ready to be rewarmed when he gets to your house. It’s 8:30 now, he should be here soon. You’re tucked away on the couch, settled after recooling the house with your air conditioner. To be honest it should be illegal to cook during summers like this. You sweated so much you thought about taking another shower, but it wouldn’t have helped.

Besides, Joel’s showing up to your house in probably 10 minutes, sweaty and gross from work. It won’t be like you’re any grosser in comparison.

As predicted, he does show up ten minutes later. His hair is a mess and he smells like hard work, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters when he’s in your doorway, toeing off his boots, and asking how your day was. Joel’s eyes keep shyly meeting yours as you lead him to your living room and turn to face him. He’s nervous, clearly, but it’s sweet. You’re both out of your element again, this time in your house instead.

Joel’s eyes flit around the room when he’s avoiding your eyes, taking in your home similar to how you did his when you were there not so long ago. You wonder what he’s thinking, hoping he doesn’t find you to be boring. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists and laughing nervously, and you keep watching how his adam's apple bobs in his throat, and how he vibrates with his laughter. He looks puppylike in the soft light of your home, brown eyes glistening.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, tilting your head upwards. He looks so huge in your little space.

Joel nods sheepishly, and so you lead him into the kitchen.

—

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and maybe Joel is the reason they say that. He groaned his way through dinner, with his eyes rolled back and compliments flying off his tongue when he wasn’t chewing. He listened to every word you said intently, taking his time with the food you had made. It had taken almost 40 minutes for him to finish that plate of food, and you saw just earlier that week how fast he could pound back a meal.

He’s savoring you with this silent praise you’ve never experienced.

And now he’s sat beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, and you’re snuggled back into him. The remote seems like a prop as you use it, aimlessly scrolling through a streaming service for a movie. Your thumbs are just rubbing over the rubber buttons now, your eyes focused on how his chest rises and falls. 

“I really don’t mind what you wanna watch, baby,” He says.

His voice seems so much nicer up close like this, when his face is just above yours and you’re beside him. 

“Or we don’t have to watch anything at all, we can just talk.”

How are you supposed to control yourself around him? How can he just walk into your home and fit right into your space, and look that good and be so warm? It feels like your bones are fighting against your skin to move, like the blood in your veins is yearning to jump rope. Joel is turning you on in a way you didn’t think possible, in a way where he’s never touched you, but you need him all at once. He’s softening the both of you.

It’s the middle of the hottest July of your entire life, but you’ve never felt warmer than right now.

“I’m sorry, was that weird? I jus’ like to hear you talk an–” Fuck he’s so nervous. Why is he so nervous? You want him loose and pliant again, like he was on the couch. 

“You should kiss me,” you blurt out. 

It’s funny how this is not the most insane thing you’ve suggested. The first crazy thing you suggested was “helping” him out with his boner when you went to his house on father’s day. 

Still, Joel is surprised. 

“You think so? I jus’ ate, I probably taste like food,” he says it like it’s an excuse.

You shift your body so you can face him better, chin tilted up so you can see his face. He’s not blushing, but he does seem surprised. This is much different than the embarrassed girl he walked home not even a week ago.

“Joel, I’m sure. I just– I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you bumble out.

He’s shaking his head, eyebrows pinched in that stupid way that makes his eyes look like a baby animals. 

“No, no, baby, it’s alright I’m just gross from work and I…” He drops eye contact with you. 

“I don’t want you to think that all I want from you is physical. You’re beautiful in a lot more ways than that.”

Fuck this guy, seriously. He’s so nervous, and clearly still thinks he’s fumbling this. Your bones are still vibrating, you’re so close to jumping out of your skin and into his. 

“Joel you’re incredible too, but I just really need you to kiss me,” you breathe. 

He seems to get it then. You clearly have deeper feelings, but after so long apart, and that disaster with his family, you’re pent up. Joel knows he’s kept you waiting long enough.

His first kiss is hesitant, just a small one that ends in a mumbled apology.

“S’been awhile,” he excuses before going back in.

And from there, it escalates. He’s controlled in his kisses, and seems to be avoiding tongue kissing you. Joel’s hesitancy from eating earlier is there, and you appreciate the courtesy. He makes it up though, when you push him further back on the couch and slide into his lap, arms looped around his neck.

Kisses are dotted from your lips, down your chin, and to the soft skin of your neck, where his mouth nips and kisses gently. Your hands are in his hair as you roll your head back, wanting to allow him however much space he needs to kiss you. There’s no hesitancy for either of you to be quiet, with him groaning as he smothers your neck in kisses, and you whining as he finds your sensitive points. 

It only takes a few ruts of your hips against his for him to be asking you if you want to go upstairs. He’s out of breath beneath you, cheeks flushed, and you can feel how hard he’s gotten.

“Y-yeah, my room,” you agree weakly, sliding off his lap.

Joel can barely keep his hands off you as you scamper up the stairs, grasping at your thighs and laughing softly when you squeak. 

It feels so juvenile, the way he grabs for you as soon as you enter your room. His lips are back on yours even as you try to tug up his shirt and he shakes his head slightly. 

“You first, I have a lot to make up for,” he mumbles, nodding his head towards the bed.

He undresses you once you’ve laid down, with eyes that drag over you in awe and pure attraction. Joel doesn’t mind your plain cotton undies, or the hairs that poke out the front. It’s sweet and homelike, it’s normal. 

He kisses where your hip bone is, murmuring into the fabric that covers it. 

“I really want to eat you out, beautiful. Is that okay with you?”

For the first time in this entire evening, his voice seems to sober you rather than intoxicate you more. Your lungs finally catch up with the rest of you, and you can breathe enough to get some actual oxygen into your brain, so you can think.

Obviously the answer should be yes, but you don’t feel totally comfortable with that yet. You’re not someone who prefers to be shaven, it’s inconvenient, but your bush is a little much even for you right now. On top of that, you’ve been sweating like crazy all day, so you don’t even wanna know what it’s like down there. And if you don’t wanna know what it’s like, then you don’t want Joel to know what it’s like, even if he really wants to.

So you shake your head.

Perfect boy he is, Joel nods and says “that’s alright, baby, thank you for bein’ honest,” as he slides back up your body after placing one more kiss on your hip bone. 

You are okay with him lifting your shirt off, and then unclipping your bra. He palms at your breasts lovingly, kissing them all over and lapping at your nipples. All of his touches are so gentle, but stupidly impactful. He seems to know that you don’t want this to be rough, that you enjoy his sweetness. He’s understanding you without even trying, and it feels like you’re being loved for the first time.

Joel is being careful in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being overdramatic, or fragile. He’s watching your movements so he can do this right, but at the same time you’re getting impatient.

“Joel,” you pant as he sucks your nipple back into his mouth, “Joel, take your clothes off, please?”

He’s stupidly excited as he scrambles off your bed, tugging his jeans down and almost getting caught in his shirt when he pulls it off wrong. Joel touches his boxers and then looks at you with questioning eyes. This is where he hesitates.

“We can turn the lights off,” you offer gently. 

You remember his hesitancy on the couch, how he didn’t want you to look at him, to see him. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark in your room when this happens, so long as it’s him in the bed with you.

Joel turns and shuts the lights off, plunging the room into darkness for a moment before your eyes adjust. In another moment, you feel him on top of you again, his warm skin touching yours. It’s very lucky you cracked your window open earlier, so now your bedroom has become a manageable temperature. 

He’s comfortable on top of you, with his plush tummy pressing against the softness of your own. Your legs tangle as you struggle to strip your undies off, and you give up when they get caught around your ankle. His nose is pressed to your cheek as he just hovers above you for a second. 

“I know I said this earlier, but it really has been a long time,” he admits quietly. 

It shouldn’t warm your heart the way it does, but the idea of him not sharing himself with anyone for so long until you… it’s special. 

“That’s okay. Are you okay?” You ask.

He nods, from what you can feel, and then pulls back onto his knees. Joel isn’t totally visible in the light of your room, but he’s still gorgeous from what you can tell. The pouch of his tummy is so cute, so real, and you hope that you can bite it one day.

“I’m just going to prep you a little, is that okay darlin?” Joel says carefully, trailing a hand down your thigh.

Maybe from the outside this looks like two awkward people having sex, or maybe even like you don’t want each other at all. It sounds like there’s so much hesitancy in the room, but it’s not like that. The two of you are just reassuring one another, Joel to you because he was gone for so long, and you to him because it’s been so long for him. 

So it isn’t awkward, when he plunges his finger into you. He starts with one, gentle as ever, and works up to three very slowly. Joel leans down to your cheek and murmurs the nicest things to you, telling you how nice you feel, thanking you for being so kind to him.

“So patient with me, baby. Don’t know why you are, but it’s so kind,” he says quietly as he curls his fingers in you. They feel so much bigger than your own, but they fit fine. Fuller than you’re used to, but fulfilled in a new way. The feeling chokes your breath and all you can do is whimper softly at him, eyes wide.

“M’gonna be makin’ up my mistakes for a long time to you, an’ not just like this,” he promises, slowing his movements but making them more deliberate, a little harder. Nothing is burning like it usually does, there’s no sting of pain, it’s just a melting pot of pleasure between your legs as he gives himself to you and you to him. 

“Is that okay with you? Is it okay if I wanna make this up to you for a long time?” Joel asks.

You know what he’s asking. You know you want it too, you know you haven’t felt this wanted since you moved to Texas, probably even before. Nothing has felt like this in your life, and he’s requesting you to have it. 

“Yes, yes, Joel, that’s okay with me,” you say.

He leans down and kisses you once, then lets you scoot up and over on the bed so you can fumble in your drawer for the lube. Your hand passes over a silicone toy in your bedside table and you smile at the fact that it will soon be long abandoned as you pass the lube to him.

“Might be cold,” Joel warns before pouring some onto his fingers and applying it to you.

Then, he applies some to himself and settles comfortably between your legs. He drags the head of his cock over your hole and up to your clit, like a teasing warning. He had felt big in your palm before, but he feels even bigger now. He was right to prep you.

Finally, he notches himself and slowly pushes in, letting your locked ankles on his lower back guide the speed at which he slides in. Joel is breathing really heavily, and when he finally feels his pelvis meet yours, he collapses down onto his elbows.

“Fuck,” he cusses.

It feels better than you thought it would. He’s big, but not so much that you want him to pull back a little. You physically feel as comfortable and fulfilled as he makes you feel emotionally.

“So good, oh my god–” you sigh softly, hands reaching up and catching his curls in your fingers. You drag him down, your beautiful boy, and kiss him gently. 

But he isn’t moving. You can feel his thighs shaking and how he’s still breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you start softly after pulling back from the kiss, but he shakes his head.

“If I move I think–  I think I’m gonna come,” he sputters out embarrassedly.

Oh. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby. You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s been so long and you feel so goddamn good, I don’t know, I can’t move.” 

His nose is near enough to yours that you can brush them together, nuzzling the side of his face.

“Joel it’s okay, I’m not going to be upset,” you tell him. It’s oddly sweet for him to have such an overwhelming reaction to you. 

“No, I know that I just… I really wanna make you come. I wanna feel it," he admits.

And so you wait. Your unending patience seems to extend to him again in this moment and you lay there kissing him until he can finally begin to move at an even pace. 

It’s so worth it.

Joel is so loving as he fucks you, with deep thrusts as he groans and bites at your neck tenderly. His hands come up and palm your breasts, rolling his thumbs over his nipples as he tells you how pretty you are, how grateful and sorry he is.

He apologizes a lot. For the party, for his distance, for how stupid he was to not see how beautiful you were from the day you moved in next door. He’s noisy and apologetic as he keeps a stable pace as he fucks you into your mattress. 

Your mind is entirely fucked for him. You’re whimpering and mewling beneath him, babbling “it’s okay,” and “i forgive you,” everytime he says he’s sorry. Why is he even sorry anymore? Can’t he tell how much you love this? 

The more he talks the closer you get, your body clenching around him as he buries himself deep repeatedly. The stable pace he set should ground you, should keep your head on your shoulders, but it’s actually making it worse. You don’t need it any faster or harder than he’s giving it to you, not with how noisy he is, and how attentive his hands are.

“Do you forgive me?” he rumbles into your ear, dropped on one elbow as his other hand is reached down and gently rubbing your clit. 

You nod desperately, accidentally knocking your head into his. It makes him laugh, asking “yeah?” as he continues to pin his hips into your own. 

“I forgive you, Joel, I swear,” you choke out weakly. 

“Then will you come for me, honey? Please?” he asks.

It’s maybe the dirtiest thing he’s said all night, or maybe it just feels like it in the heat of the moment, but it sends you over the edge right away. You spasm around him and claw at his broad back, gasping for air and squeaking out noises you haven’t made before. Tears prick at your eyes as he works you through it with his fingers and cock.

“Fuck, yeah, there you are baby, that’s a good girl. God– Can I come? Is that okay?” Joel asks once you start to come down. You’re still in your head enough to nod, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. 

It doesn’t take long at all, you’re surprised he was able to last as long as he did with everything considered. Joel takes less than a minute before he’s pulling out and letting out deep grunts and breaths as he comes on your tummy, looking down at you with adoring eyes. 

“Thank you, thank you baby, God.” He huffs out as he catches his breath. He’s kneeling between your legs with his chest puffing. 

He continues thanking you as he cleans you up with a washcloth. You had to guide him to it by yelling instructions as he walked on shaky legs to your linen closet, not wanting to spill his mess everywhere. 

Once you’re finally cleaned up, he nestles into bed with you. Your head lays on his still clammy shoulder as he tucks you beneath his arm and presses kisses to your hairline.

“M’so grateful for you, darlin’, I hope you know that,” he mumbles to you. 

You tell him that you know, that he just proved it to you, and he laughs. The noise is so warm in your room, like it was meant to be there.

“Okay, that’s fair, but if you need anything else,” he tells you.

A thought does pop into your mind, but it doesn’t seem totally appropriate. You’re enjoying this peaceful moment with Joel, in your quiet room. His hand is tapping its fingers on your stomach, squeezing the flesh once or twice.

You decide not to say anything, but your tummy does. She growls loud and proud, forcing an embarrassed blush onto your face.

“Um… I think I’m kinda hungry,” you admit.

—

That’s how you and Joel end the night, in the kitchen.

You’re sitting on your countertop while he leans against it about a foot away. The paper plate that Ellie loaded up with cake is sat between the two of you, and your forks steal big lumps out of it.

Joel has frosting in his moustache, but it looks so cute there that you don’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, you just lean over and kiss him. 

“N’ what was that for?” He asks through a mouthful of cake.

You just giggle and shrug, admiring him. 

“I just like you,” you tell him.

He looks like he might roll his eyes, but instead he steps closer to you and kisses you on the cheek. You can feel the residue of the frosting on your skin.

“Yeah, I think I like you too, baby.” 

i don't have a taglist, but i'll just tag people who commented on texas sweet :p @mochamadeleines @pascalssbabyy @taeslarityy @stefanibear003 @slutty-express @theweedisasterxoxo @knockk0ut @axshadows @lumpatto @aquanatalie @peekyourinterest @moel-jiller @ghostofzion @joeylovestofu @hellishjoel @pedropeach @pawnshopb1ues

[amazinglyashy]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

[thehouseofurmotha]

Shinsou dating Aizawa's daughter head cannons :)

Pairing: Shinsou x Aizawa!Reader

I'm also working on a soulmate au with Shinsou 🤭 I fear he may be my favorite

• You and him meet when Aizawa asks you to spar with him, as you both have quirks that are less equipped for close range combat. You're in class 1-A too which is the class Shinsou would most likely join when he ends up in the hero course so it just made sense.

• You whoop his ass, he's immediately in love. He thinks you're extremely skilled and talented and pretty much begs you to help train him with your dad.

• Maybe it's because he wants to see you more often, but you don't need to know that.

• You ultimately agree and you and Shinsou pretty muuuuch become besties.

• But this is not enough for this man because he is absolutely enamored with you.

• One day while the two of you are sparing, your father leaves to go get another cup of coffee. And at this point he finally manages to pin you to the ground.

• For whatever reason he decides this is the best time to shoot his shot and is like, "Go on a date with me?" While he's just casually got you pinned to the ground.

• You don't manage to give him an answer before your dad gets back, but after you get up and brush yourself off you look at him and mouth a simple 'yes'.

• He smiles like a madman at this and your father looks at him and asks him what he's smiling about. He quickly goes back to his normal tired resting face with a quick nothing.

• Aizawa def thinks this is weird but he decides not to press any father. He feels bad pressing kids to tell him something they don't really have to.

• You guys go on a few dates before you officially start dating. Your father definitely notices that something about the two of you has changed but he doesn't realize that it has to do with the two of you being together.

• He finds out when he walks into your room while you and Shinsou were supposed to be just hanging out and watching a movie. Which he didn't find odd because the two of you had become fast friends with the friendly competition of sparring. But as he walks into your room to ask the two of you want for dinner he finds the two of you making out.

• He IMMEDIATELY kicks Shinsou out of your guys apartment. He isn't really mad that you guys are together he's just mad that you hid it from him and he had to find out like this.

• You guys have a very long conversation about being safe, and he definitely calls Midnight to handle most of it because he thinks he might just simply pass out from embarrassment. (You as well)

• He tells you he doesn't really care as long as you're happy. But this man does not let Shinsou live it down.

• Bro is fighting for his life during training the next day being worked so hard.

• Shinsou eventually gets back on your dad's good side and he comes over for weekly dinners.

I fear I may have an obsession with dadzawa.. and Shinsou.. I'm simply js a girl though. Anyways I hope you enjoyed :) <3 happy reading!

[kissforyouu]

I LOVE YOUR TITTIES BECAUSE THEY PROVE I CAN FOCUS ON TWO THINGS AT ONCE !

pairing : bf!jungkook x reader

genre : established relationship

warnings : boobs boobs boobs BOOBS !!! massive boob kink idk everything boobs :P

request : hii, can i ask for something like my bf wont stop touching me but instead of her butt make it her breast? only if ur up to it <3

note : I FINALLY POSTED A FIC R YALL HAPPY WOOO. hope u like dis :D

unedited.

bf!jungkook who's had some sort of a hyperfixation on your tits ever since you both had sex for the first time.

he would always take the chance if it meant he'd get to look or touch your tits.

you walk around your living room with your broom as you swept the floor. jungkook was comfortably seated on the sofa, manspreading as he consumed whatever that was on the tv. you sweep around the sofa, poking the broom under the sofa to check for any trash thats possibly left under it. deciding that that wasn't enough, the place the broom carefully so that it's laid against the sofa, you get down on your knees.

this action catches your boyfriend's attention, his eyes shifting from the tv to you in the matter of a second. you don't notice though. you sit properly on your knees, slightly raising your body up a little so that you could tie your hair up in a messy bun. jungkook licks his lips, fully infatuated by you. but the moment you bend forward to peep under the sofa, that's when he loses his mind. your tits were peaking out of your shirt oh so clearly. he could see the swell of your tits and the thin layer of sweat covering them.

your boyfriend smirks, "thanks for the nice view."

your boyfriend was a little perverted. okay, a lot maybe. only for you though. he always made you wear those see through lace tank tops at home. he'd buy all the cute tank tops to make your tits look pretty and squeezed against one another. not like you minded. you loooveeedddd getting spoiled. plus, free clothes. who would say no? he would always find a way to grope your tits at any moment. but not in public though. that was weird.

jungkook's back was resting against the headboard of the bed as he typed away on his computer. some work matters, you thought. you looked at your boyfriend who was so focused on whatever document he was typing. his eyebrows were furrowed and he was also doing that thing he did whenever he was frustrated--his tongue was poking his cheek.

you slide under the covers, scooting next to your boyfriend and gently lifting his arm up so that you could go under it and lay on his lap while his arm rested on your body while typing. you do just that, your head now resting on his lap while you stared at whatever he was typing on the computer.

minutes pass by, jungkook's hand was comfortably laying on top of your clothed tits. he tapped his fingers on the fat of your right breast, mindlessly pressing onto the flesh finger by finger in a pattern. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, index finger, middle finger, ring finger—

and of course you expected it, it didn't take him any longer before he slid his hand inside to pull out your right tit. jungkook's entire hand envelopes the fat, squeezing it tightly. his touch was very warm, you didn't mind. you squirm in your spot, shifting your position once jungkook switches to your other tit, pulling out the flesh out of your top.

he had no intentions of doing anything sexual after, just wanted to fondle with your tits. maybe he'll suck them if you behaved well. but you couldn't control the growing wetness in your pussy, already wetting your panties. you mewl a little once he twists your nipple in between his fingers, and that's when he notices.

"is my girl getting horny?"

before sleep, he always made sure to give your tits a few kisses. and sometimes (most of the time), they turned into a little more.

"ah...mh, mh, hm" you hum in utter satisfaction, eyes shut while enjoying the pure bliss you're getting from your boyfriend's skillful tongue.

he swirls his tongue around your nipple, eagerly lapping on the hardened bud. jungkook's eyes never left your tits as he made out with the hardened buds, making you feel sooooo good.

"please. don't stop." you whimper out while caressing your boyfriend's hair. his hair smelt exactly like yours, since he started using your godly vanilla shampoo. you just wanted to bury your face in his hair. you massaged his scalp good, had him moaning and groaning into your tits.

he pulled back for a moment to look at his little artwork. you had his saliva all over your tits, making them glisten under the dim light in the room. jungkook spits on your tits again, then spreads it around using the tip of his tongue. it was so nasty. he licks around your areola with the very tip of his tongue, then envelopes your nipple again. he teasingly bites it, causing you to let out a small yelp. he flicks your nipple with his tongue while it was inside of his mouth and pulls away to return back with another harsh suck.

"that feel good?", his fingertips were pressed onto your waist as he smothered his face all over your tits (literally). you could feel the tip of his tongue glide all over your chest and his cheeks pressing onto the flesh of your breath. it was nasty. the saliva on your chest was no longer just there but also on his face as he hungrily inhaled your breasts in and consumed them for the full extent. he was so so so erotic.

jungkook kisses you until you run out of breath while his fingers pinched your nipples hard, twisting them with intentions of causing you pain sexually. you wince. god, you feel your body twitching. your pussy's so wet. clenching on absolutely nothing. it was so evident. the wet patch on your panties. the way your panties hugged your pussy so tightly, the slick was coating the thin material so nicely. the way it hugged your pussy drove jungkook crazy. the material was so tight that it perfectly made out the shape of your chubby pussy.

he cups your breasts with both of his hands, squeezing them till the worlds end. this was supposed to be a comforting moment where he just fondled your breasts before sleep. but now you're grinding against eachother like horny freaks.

another thing that got him so riled up was the cute gold "J" necklace he got you that you would wear. he loved the way it sat on your cleavage, right in between your breasts. he liked it even better when the cute lace tops you got him squeezed your breasts together and the sparkly J initial sat in between the soft pillows. it drove him craaaazy, actually. jungkook always made you ride him when you looked like that.

"jus' like that, baby, hm", his head was slanted against the headboard of you guys' bed, eyes dazed, but still looking at your breasts. you rode his dick till dawn, up and down, up and down.

one of your tits were out of your tight, lace see-through bra and molded into jungkook's palm. he squeezed the flesh in his palm while you made circles on his dick. his tip was hitting the exact right spot that drove you crazy, and it had you twitching on spot.

your boyfriend leans in to lick your hardened clothed nipple of the neglected breast, tugging on the nipple and wetting the lace as well. it was just a big wet smudge on your right tit.

he was like an animal when it came to fucking you. he would pull up with the nastiest ways to have you. jungkook had no shame. his hips raise upwards as he thrusted from below, overtaking your slow ass pace.

"m—mm, hah! please, so fast...!", your tongue was out, panting, and so was his. instead his was licking a stripe from all the way from your stomach, up your cleavage to your lips. he kicked your messily, both of you exchanging saliva to one another in your mouths, passing it around like a football. he tugs on your nipple, harshly pulling it and twisting the bud.

that hurt, obviously.

jungkook pulls away from the kiss and rests his back against the headboard again, still thrusting into you though. at this point both of your tits were out of your bra, jumping up and down, putting on a show for his attention.

you notice the way he moans while eyeing your tits. his eyes travel to the gold necklace in between after, the J necklace that you treasure so much.

"looks so fuckin' hot between those pretty titties. you keep this on all the time, yeah? makes you look prettier when i fuck you, babydoll." he kisses your shoulder blade, trailing kisses to your neck. wrapped around your neck was the gold chain, and jungkook lolls his tongue out to trace the metal chain. he tugs on the chain with his teeth, pulling on it with a groan.

you were getting so tired from jumping on his dick. the more you rode him, the closer you got to your release. jungkook let go of your chain, but grab hold of it this time with his hand. his palm lands two loud slaps on your asscheek, making you moan. same time, he could feel you tighten around his cock. "liked that?" you nod your head repeatedly.

jungkook tugs on the chain, pulling it backwards and then twisting it around his knuckles, choking you with the chain.

fuck, fuck, fuck. so hot.

you crack out a laugh, tongue out, panting. you were so close. so so so close. you had your tits squeezed between eachother tightly, your hands squishing the flesh as you felt the orgasm take over you. your pussy was spasming around his dick as you moan out loud, body thrown over jungkook's chest, tits pressed against his. jungkook definitely loved that feeling.

soon after you cum around him and milk his cock, he does too. his cum slips out of your contracting pussyhole.

jungkook lets out a laugh, hand patting your back and smoothing it. then he looks down from above, enjoying the birds point of view of your squished up tits and necklace in between.

he might just get hard again.

aftercare with jungkook has always been simple. you + boobs + him .

"humph, kook." you groan once you feel your boyfriend's hands squeeze your tits one more time. "bit more." he tugs on your nipple with the tip of his fingers, wiggling on his spot to find a comfortable position in the crook of your neck.

"aah, 'm so sore, baby." your voice aches through with yet another groan. "it's okay. you know it's okay." jungkook reassures.

"how about i give you a massage?" he raises his head up to look at your passed out face. "that's just another excuse for you to touch my tits..."

your boyfriend laughs, "are you complaining, though?" you shake your head with a small smile and turning on your back so that you're laying on your stomach.

jungkook slaps the fat of your ass before he begins to massage around your shoulder area. he does it soooooooooooo good though. he makes sure to press onto your bones and tightly circle around, causing you to moan in satisfaction. you enjoy his massage well until he gropes your breasts from the back, giving both of them a tight squeeze. you yelp in surprised. well, not really, you knew this was coming anyway.

he squeezes your tits and massages them well and even makes sure to give both of them equal attention.

and you both fall asleep with his head nuzzled between your tits and your hand massaging his scalp.

whenever you sucked his cock, at the end, he would always ask "where do you want it?". stupid question. there was only one answer.

jungkook's tip twitches in your mouth and he loosens his grip on your hair, a cracked moan also escaping his lips. "f—fuck, baby. you're so pretty with your lips around my fucking dick."

you flutter your eyes open, bobbing your head up and down. you feel jungkook twitch in your mouth, again. "mhm, where do you- want it?"

there was always only one answer.

you were wearing this grey oversized shirt with the thinnest material. it showed your nipples so well. dare i say jungkook got off to that as well. to answer his question, you squeeze your breast through the material and moan, mouth still filled with dick. he gets the memo and pulls his dick out of your mouth.

you cough out but quickly dismiss yourself and pull the neckline of the shirt down to expose your tits, both coated with a layer of sweat. jungkook cusses at the reveal of your breasts, fastening the speed of his wrist before he spurts his cum onto your exposed boobs.

"haaaaa. oh my god, fuck". you moan out, watching the spurts of cum land all over your breasts, some on the shirt as well as your neck. the white liquid was all over your nipples. so you make sure to rub them with both your index fingers, coating them well before bringing them to your mouth at once to taste them. you lick yourself erotically just as you did to his dick just a few seconds ago and taste your boyfriend's cum in your mouth.

"you taste so so good, baby."

and it's like jungkook's hypnotised again.