#it took me like seconds to make but I was laughing the whole time. just thinking about it makes me laugh

[pricetagged]

MEDIEVAL SCAMMER GHOAP?! Please enlighten us🙏🙏🙏

Since you both asked so nicely, have a snippet of a whisp of a concept😅

I have an idea. Not fully fleshed out. I could go in two directions, either historical Ghoap working as Pardoners and taking advantage of ignorant village reader (corruption kink, religious themes, abuse of power etc.).

OR, for my monster-lovers, has anyone seen Dragonheart? I was picturing, like, one of them is something beastly, the other plays at knight = profit? Fantasy scam and rescue? So, it would go something like this:

(Tw kidnapping and kind of mean Ghoap)

---------

Your situation didn't look any better flipped on its head. Flipped on your head, rather. Snatched and thrown over a bulky shoulder, high– higher than even your standing position. It was discomfiting; it was terrifying. Blood rushed to your face not only in fury but also in shame as your skirts fluttered in the breeze.

He noticed, too. His greedy fingers dug into your thighs, skimming down like he was soothing a skittish horse. But you felt the way he lingered. The way he chuffed and squeezed tighter when you kicked out with all the strength of a skittish colt.

Your fists pounded uselessly against heavy splint-mail, hands-catching on rough nodules and spikes that didn't quite register as pain. Not to your panic-stricken mind, thoughts flying off in the wind behind you as the beast carried you off.

But the smack registered.

Perhaps it was the sound, the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Whipping crack, like the snapping of a great branch. The precursor to an eerie stillness, violence begetting obmutescence. And it worked–

–for a second. For the time it took for your stinging nerves to catch up with your racing mind. Then you howled. Kicked and clawed and hissed like a feral cat as tears welled in your lash-line.

"How dare you–"

"Quit yer fashin'. Ye'll bring the whole kingsguard down this way–"

"–good–"

"–and then I'll have tae kill them all," That had your attention, legs tense under the heavy band of his bicep. "Dinnae much feel like sharin' ye around."

"Oh, you beast! You foul, vile, disgusting–" Your voice was high, words scratching as they hitched out of your aching throat.

It hurt to speak, vocal cords already shredded from the way you'd screamed when he'd first ransacked your village. Coughing on heavy, acrid smoke and crying futile warnings about the Black Knight and his monster-in-arms ('Quiet, girl. Viper-tonged harlot, slither off and for gods' sake, quiet!') . But it hurt more to be silent. You flung insults like broken arrows, hoping that they would somehow land. That they would hit, fortuitously, and pierce the thick-hide of this brute. But hope is vain, and the fancies of men make gods laugh.

You landed hard on something soft.

Ego almost as bruised as your knees, you kept your eyes low. Sweeping. Marshy, wet silt. Topsoil sluiced off, only mud and clay and reeds to your right. A cheerfully babbling brook just beyond, water murky and discoloured with backwash from– the water flowed past the estuary of the village so it must be– no–

The realisation was caustic. Mordant. Burning at you like the scorched air in your lungs.

"You're a monster," you spat the words, mouth watering in your haste to let ichor drip forth and blacken him as much as the foul, brackish water ahead.

"Noticed that, did ye," he laughed, words glancing off like feeble blows. "Best not tae piss me off, then. Stay there and behave yersel'. Company's comin'."

Glancing up at him was like a blow to the stomach, wind punched out and body shaking. You already knew that he was big, inhuman. But now you could see every inch; monstrous, twisted mockery of natural features. Like a man formed of rock, too immense and hard and jagged to pass for anything but artificial. Counterfeit. Contranatural. Creation's bastard. All tusks and teeth and shorn hair. Hair everywhere, even down his bare, bulging forearms and thick knuckles. Coarse, dark.

His eerie, bright blue eyes blazed around black, pupils wild and blown. It could be the thrill, cruel playfulness of an apex predator. Berserker-wide, coming down from the kill–

But he'd been carrying you for a while, bloodlust long-since sated on the men and manse of your homeland.

You shivered, sweat and cold mingling in a discomfiting damp that raised the hairs on your arms. (The hairs on the back of your neck were already needle-stiff and prickling).

You pocketed a stone, a big jagged filthy shard. One you hoped could bruise and slash and poison, turn wounds weeping and sick.

Now that you were silent, he seemed especially strident, swaggering around the barebones of what you supposed must be a dwelling. You felt the slight whistling of air from the cave behind, cavernous and black. If you had to run, to hide, you'd take your chances with the forest and river ahead. To be lost in the appetites of the mountain abyss would spell death as surely as at the hands of this creature.

You watched him, cocksure and comfortable as he shucked off his warhammer and began unbuckling his braces. If you could read the snarl of his crooked teeth, you'd perhaps say he was in high spirits. He sent you a wink as he shrugged off his splint-mail, gravelly laugh echoing in the cavern behind.

It disguised the approach of your visitor.

"Grabbed the wrong one, Johnny," you shrieked as something grabbed your forearm, hauling you up. Looking down you saw the muted sheen of a spiked gauntlet. Black patina, flaked in iron rust. You swallowed hard, lump in your throat so big that it caught any words that might try to escape. Him. The Black Knight. The Liar. 

"Ye said to grab the pretty one by the fancy house."

"She's not the magistrate's daughter. No ransom for her." He spun you around, metal biting hard into your chin as he arched your face towards his.

Cloaked in ink-black helm and visor, you could just about peer in to meet his gaze. He looked back with cold, assessing eyes. The voice that rumbled forth was as harsh and breccial as you remembered, words rending you apart with serrated precision: "Not worth a rescue mission."

He released your chin with a final shake of your head, huffing amusement as you rubbed at the thin scratches he left behind.

It was hard to breathe now, stomach swirling and head-light. Even if you could will yourself, it wouldn’t help. There was already a faint coppery smell leeching from the Knight; your heart recognised it even if you would not give name to it. It sped up, fast enough to rush past your ears with discordant force. 

You didn’t feel the other one step up behind you, not until it was too late. There, trapped between man and monster (man the monster), tight enough that you couldn't even shiver. You felt the power of the creature even more now without the armour, all muscle and fat, sheer power close enough to sink your fingers into. But you couldn't move, your shallow breaths already catching in your throat into soft, hitching whines. 

"Shh, it's alright, bonnie," Rough, clumsy fingers swiped under your eyes. You felt him crouch lower, stubbly hair and tusks digging into your powder-soft cheek. "Looks like we're gonnae have tae keep you, then."

------------

[partiallysame]

The 141 teases Gaz about your pet name for him and now you gotta fix it

Soap heard you call Gaz “Kyle Baby” once. One time. And he gripped his grubby hands on the name. No longer calling him Gaz or Garrick. Only Kyle baby. He did it so much the rest of the 141 picked up on it. Ghost saying “here you go Kyle baby” when handing Gaz anything and Price even referred to him as “Kyle baby boy” once and Soap hit the ground laughing so hard. Did it bother Gaz? Yes absolutely but the worst was when he was trying to explain the name to the 141 over drinks one night. Each large man had one too many to drink and were a giggling mess as Gaz fought for his life defending you and “Kyle baby”

“What are ye just a wee lad?” MacTavish was losing his shit over his own comment.

“Noooo” Gaz whined back “she says it different. Says it all sexy like” This immediately prompted all three men to repeatedly say ‘Kyle baby’ in their sexiest (drunkest) voices. “Fuck you lot. If you heard it you’d know. The way she says it, it’s like she’s just asking me to take her to bed and the pretty bird knowwwsss it too. Uses it against me she does.”

Unbeknownst to his team, Kyle had texted you to come get him (come prove his point). When you texted you were there, Kyle ran out front to meet you. You thought he was getting in the car but he was pulling you towards the bar’s entrance. Trying to explain what he wanted you to do.

“Kyle Garrick. You want me to what?”

“You know loves. Just say it like you do when you want me to give it to ya good.” That comment earned him a slap on the arm.

“You want me to seduce your team? Am I understanding that right?” His large drunk frame is looking down at you, giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes he knows you can’t resist.

“Not seduce. Just say their names and work the lads up a little. Been teasing me for weeks about ‘Kyle baby’. Need them to understand. At least just MacTavish. Stupid fucking bloke won’t let it go.” He had pulled you into his chest as he tried to convince you to go along with his plan. You just stared at him but with a final “please baby. I really will give it to ya good if you do this.” Rolling your eyes you agreed and were immediately pulled into the dark bar. Kyle situated you on an empty stool and motioned for you to stay.

“MacTavish.” Kyle had his hand out pointing to his squad member. “The little lady’s got something to say to ya.” All of a sudden the soldier is walking towards you and this is real. Cursing yourself for agreeing to this because what the fuck are you supposed to do.

“What can I do ye for” Johnny was standing in front of you and you motioned for him to sit on the stool next to yours.

“Heard youve been making fun of my Kyle” You stood up to stand in front of him, making the height difference much more in your favor.

“He tattle on me did he?” Soap cocked his head to the side, curious about where this was going. Stepping a little closer so your body was just in between his (man)spread legs.

“You know Johnny. If you had a girl at home willing to suck your cock” Soap choked on his spit the second the vulgar words came out of your mouth. “I don’t think you’d be complaining about any nickname she chose for you.” Soap was trying to regain his composure but the look in your eyes shifted, all of a sudden these big innocent bedroom eyes were staring at him as you leaned in a little more to get closer to his face. “Right Johnny baby?” The breathyness of your voiced paired with this barely heard whine coming from your lips made his mind go blank. It took every ounce of self control he had not to just take you right there in front of the whole fucking bar, your boyfriend included. You stepped back away from him and turned to Kyle who was already laughing at the look on Soaps face but absolutely lost it when you shook out your body like you had the chills and followed it up with “ugh yuck I didn’t like doing that.”

Soap is crushed, sulking behind you. You just flipped his whole world upside down, whispered in his ear like sex incarnate and then turned around to complain that it inconvenienced you. He never once used “Kyle baby” again.

(Do I only write at soap’s expense? Yes. I wanna tease him so bad)

[chrissssssmut]

My Huh Yunjin...

Huh Yunjin x Yandere Male reader

(First ever requested fic! Hope u see this! Pls bare with me with the upload schedule 😭)

Huh Yunjin was perfect.

Everyone loved her.

She was the kind of girl who made people stop and stare when she walked into a room. The kind of girl who laughed like sunshine and made even the coldest hearts melt. Teachers adored her, classmates wanted to be her, and boys tripped over themselves just to get a second of her attention.

She wasn’t just beautiful—she was breathtaking. Unforgettable. The kind of girl who made the world feel like it revolved around her.

And she was your best friend.

At first, you were proud.

She stood beside you, smiling, talking, laughing. With you. No one else had that. No one else was as close to her as you were.

But then you started to notice—

She wasn’t just yours.

She had too many friends. Too many admirers. Too many people who thought they deserved a piece of her.

It made your skin crawl.

She was slipping away.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

So one by one, you took away everything that tried to pull her from you.

And slowly—bit by bit—her world fell apart..

It started with Yunjin’s first real crush, Lee Hyunwoo.

A quiet, charming boy from her class, he played the guitar and always lent her his jacket when she forgot hers. He was gentle, kind—safe.

One day, just when she worked up the courage to confess, Hyunwoo vanished.

"Expelled," someone whispered. "Cheating scandal. His whole family’s embarrassed."

It didn’t make sense. Hyunwoo was obsessively studious—he’d rather die than cheat. But the evidence was airtight. Someone leaked messages, screenshots, proof that he had stolen exam answers.

Yunjin tried calling him. Number disconnected. She messaged him. No response.

The only one who seemed to care was you.

"You’re better off," you had told her, sitting beside her on the school steps. "He wasn’t good for you anyway."

She sighed, leaning into you for comfort.

She didn’t see the victorious glint in your eyes.

Yunjin and Kazuha had been inseparable. They were more than best friends; they were sisters.

Then, suddenly, Kazuha moved away.

"She never told me she was leaving," Yunjin mumbled, scrolling through their old messages.

"Maybe she didn’t think you’d care," you replied.

Yunjin frowned. "Of course I care."

She called. No answer.

She checked social media. Kazuha was gone. Every account deleted.

Her parents wouldn’t tell her anything. It was like Kazuha had been erased from existence.

You sat beside her, stroking her hair.

"People leave," you whispered. "But I never will."

She sniffled, nodding.

She didn’t know that Kazuha’s departure was your doing.

She didn’t know you had threatened her.

Music was Yunjin’s life.

She had spent months preparing for the talent showcase—her shot at being scouted.

Two days before the event, she got the call.

"We received an anonymous tip that you plagiarized your piece. We can’t let you perform."

Her world shattered.

She sat alone in the empty auditorium, fingers shaking.

"Why does this keep happening?" she whispered.

You sat beside her, pressing a hand against her back.

"Maybe it’s a sign," you murmured. "Maybe you don’t need all that. You just need me."

Her throat tightened.

She didn’t know that the anonymous tip came from you.

That you had destroyed her chance at leaving.

Because if she succeeded, she’d go far, far away—away from you.

And that was unacceptable.

At first, Yunjin thought she was just unlucky.

But when everything crumbled—again and again—and you were always there afterward…

She finally saw the truth.

She connected the dots.

Hyunwoo.

Kazuha.

Her dreams.

All gone.

And the only constant was you.

Her heart pounded as she stared at you.

"You did this," she whispered.

You tilted your head. "What are you talking about?"

She stood up, shaking. "You—You ruined my life. Every time I had something good, it disappeared. Hyunwoo. Kazuha. My showcase. It was you, wasn’t it?"

Your expression didn’t change.

Then, slowly—you smiled.

"And if it was?"

Her breath hitched.

"You—"

"You were meant to be mine, Yunjin," you murmured, stepping closer. "I only got rid of the things that were taking you away from me."

Her stomach twisted.

"You’re crazy," she choked out.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, Yunjin. I’m in love with you."

She froze.

Your eyes darkened.

"And I won’t let anyone take you from me."

She ran.

She fought.

She lost.

You overpowered her easily, dragging her through the dark streets as she screamed for help.

Her fists slammed against your chest. She kicked wildly, nails clawing at your skin.

"LET ME GO!"

You pressed a cloth over her mouth, voice gentle.

"Shh, Yunjin. It’s okay. I’ve got you."

Her struggles weakened.

Her screams faded.

And when she woke up, everything was different.

At first, she thought she had escaped.

She woke up in her bed. Sunlight streamed through the window. She could hear birds. Smell coffee.

Relief flooded her.

"It was just a nightmare," she whispered.

She sat up—

Chains rattled.

Her wrists were tied to the bed.

The sunlight was just a lamp.

The birds were a recording.

The coffee was a candle.

She wasn’t home.

She was still with you.

Her breath quickened.

The door creaked open.

You stepped inside, smiling softly.

"Good morning, Yunjin. I hope you slept well."

Her heart stopped.

"This isn’t real," she whimpered.

You tilted your head.

"Of course it is," you murmured, brushing her hair back. "You’re home. Our home."

Tears streamed down her face.

"No, no, no—"

You pulled her into your arms.

"Hush, my love." you whispered. "You don’t have to worry anymore."

She tried to struggle, but you were stronger.

She begged.

"I’ll be your best friend forever! I promise! Just don’t—please don’t do this!"

You smiled.

"I don’t want to be just your best friend, Yunjin."

Your grip tightened.

"I want you to be mine."

She sobbed. You hated that sound.

You hit her. Hard.

Not enough to break anything—just enough to make her stop crying.

"Why do you do that?" you muttered, rubbing your knuckles. "I don’t like fucking hurting you. But you make me do it."

Yunjin bit her lip, swallowing her sobs.

Good.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife.

She stiffened.

"Shh," you whispered, pressing the tip against her skin. "I’m not going to kill you. I just…"

You pressed down lightly, watching as a thin line of red bloomed against her skin.

"Beautiful," you murmured, leaning down.

Yunjin shuddered as your tongue flicked across the wound, licking up the blood.

You sighed.

"You taste just like I imagined."

Her breathing was ragged.

"Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

You smiled, cupping her cheek.

"Why would I ever do that?"

The television hummed in the background, and the news anchor’s voice filled the dimly lit room.

"Breaking news: Authorities are still searching for missing girl Huh Yunjin, who disappeared two weeks ago. Police suspect foul play—"

Yunjin’s breath caught in her throat.

You turned to the screen, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

"They’ll never find you," you murmured. Then, you turned back to her, your smile widening. "Because you belong to me, Yunjin."

Tears streamed down her face.

You hated that.

Your grip tightened around her face, fingers digging into her skin until it bled.

"You will never find freedom again," you growled, squeezing until she whimpered.

"You’re mine my love. Forever and always."

[wolfsclothing6]

Hey, love your stories! Could you write one about a guy who hates his body and buys a skin suit to become bigger and hairier? Maybe he doesn’t read the fine print, takes a hot bath, and gets stuck like that forever?

(Oh I like that idea and thank you for taking part of MorphoSkin Industries deluxe service)

Tobias Model #3224.

Package Arrived!

Okay, so I finally did it. After weeks of obsessing over the MorphoSkin Industries site, I pulled the trigger. My Deluxe Identity Series body suit arrived this morning, and let me tell you, the box was way heavier than I expected. They ship it in this sleek, all-black container with "MorphoSkin—A New You Awaits" printed in silver. Fancy.

Ripped it open, and there he was: Tobias Model #3224.

6'3", built like a truck, covered in thick body hair, and rocking a solid dad bod. Exactly what I wanted. Something bigger. Something different. My real self? 5'9", kinda scrawny, patchy facial hair that never grows in right. But Tobias? He’s got that rugged, burly look—hairy chest, thick forearms, the kind of guy who owns a flannel and actually looks good in it.

I found the instruction booklet (didn't read it, let’s be real) and just went straight for the good stuff

The inside of the suit was... weird. Cool to the touch, kind of like putting on damp silk, but it moved when I stretched it. I pulled it over my legs first, feeling them thicken as I stepped in. My thighs ballooned, my calves stretched, and when I flexed my toes, I felt calluses that weren’t mine.

I tugged it up over my stomach, and whoa. Instant gut. It even jiggled when I moved. I gave it a little slap��solid, thick. Damn.

Pulling the arms in was surreal. My fingers got beefier, veins popping under the skin, knuckles bigger, hair covering my forearms. The weight of it felt right, like I’d been in the wrong body my whole life.

And the face?

Lining it up took a second, but once it was on, I felt a sharp tingle from my scalp down my spine. My vision blurred, ears popped, and suddenly… I was Tobias. Deep brown eyes stared back at me in the mirror. A strong, squared-off jaw covered in thick stubble. My neck even felt thicker. I ran my hands through my now wild, unkempt hair and let out a deep, rumbling laugh that wasn’t mine.

"Holy shit."

After pacing around, flexing my new muscles, admiring the way my hairy stomach peeked out under my stretched-out shirt, I decided to celebrate the best way possible:

A long, hot bath.

I turned the water on full blast, watching steam fill the bathroom as I stripped off the last of my clothes. God, everything felt so heavy in the best way. My arms rested on my belly, fingers idly scratching at the coarse hair now covering my chest. This body was made for lounging.

Sinking into the water was heaven. The heat wrapped around me, seeping into my new muscles, making them ache in the most satisfying way. I stretched out, letting my thick fingers drag lazily over the surface of the water, feeling completely at peace.

I lost track of time. The steam, the warmth, the weight of this body settling in—it was perfect.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand, water sloshing off my broad frame. I grabbed a towel, rubbing it over my arms, my chest—except something felt… different.

The suit usually had a slight give to it, almost like a second layer of skin. But now? It wasn’t moving.

I frowned, pressing a hand against my stomach. No shift. No subtle detachment. Just me.

I moved to the mirror, wiping away the condensation. Tobias’ face stared back at me, as expected—but there was no seam, no subtle ridge where my real face should be beneath. I reached up, pressing at my jaw, my cheekbones, even behind my ears.

Nothing.

I tried pinching at my wrist, where I knew the access point was supposed to be. The skin didn’t budge. I dug my nails in harder, trying to find an edge, a weak spot—anything.

My breathing picked up.

"No. No, no, no—this was temporary. Just a temporary malfunction. I just needed to let it cool down, right?"

I paced the bathroom, my heavy footsteps thudding against the tile. My arms swung at my sides, the thick forearms, the hairy knuckles—it all felt too real now.

I snatched up the instruction booklet, my hands trembling slightly as I flipped through the pages. Then, I saw it:

"DO NOT EXPOSE SUIT TO EXTREME HEAT FOR EXTENDED PERIODS. High temperatures may cause permanent fusion with the host."

The booklet slipped from my fingers.

Permanent...

I looked back at the mirror, at the deep brown eyes that were no longer borrowed but mine. My broad shoulders, my thick-fingered hands. Tobias's body.

This was me.

I took a deep breath, watching my massive chest rise and fall. I ran a hand through my thick, unruly hair, scratching at the beard I hadn’t earned but now owned. My voice rumbled out in a nervous chuckle—except it wasn’t nervous.

It was satisfied.

I swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing. I wanted to be Tobias, didn’t I?

[rebelspykatie]

Part 5 - Steddie Angst Finale - Happy Ending!

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

He settles back on the bench, apprehension clouding his features. “When you kissed me, I panicked. You’ve become such an important part of my life and I didn’t want to lose that. Something shifted in our relationship and I didn’t know what to do. It’s not an excuse for how poorly I treated you, it’s just the truth. I went into fight or flight mode, but I’m sorry for how I reacted that day.”

Steve hugs the blanket tighter. “You’re forgiven.” And he says it so simply. As if this hasn't been uniquely painful for Steve.

“It took me a while to make sense of everything. It never occurred to me that what I felt towards you was anything more than friendship. I know now how stupid that was.” He wants to reach out and touch Steve, connect them somehow, but he’s wrapped so tightly in the protective cocoon of the blanket, Eddie’s not sure how to reach him. 

“It’s always been different with you. Everything I felt came on so slowly I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. The thought of losing you scares me, more than most things- and I’m scared of a lot of things these days.” 

That gets a subdued laugh out of Steve. He’s all too aware of how much is out there to be afraid of. 

“I didn’t have a lot of examples of love growing up. Wayne’s been single my whole life. My parents were fucked from the start. My grandparents hated each other after having their kids.” Eddie shakes his head, “And I’m not using that as an excuse either, I just, well, I didn’t recognize what was right in front of me, man. I never had any romantic fantasies because I didn’t think life was going to give me any.”

At that, Steve finally leaves the comfort of his cocoon. One arm snakes out and takes one of Eddie’s hands, squeezing tightly. 

“But falling in love with you was so easy.” Eddie flips his hand over and laces their figures together. “You’re my best friend, but you’re so much more than that. It was there the whole time, I just didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

Steve’s eyes rake over his face, taking in Eddie’s sincerity, a soft smile appearing for the first time since they stepped out into the frigid cold.

“I think about you all the time. You’re the first person I want to call when anything happens. You’re the one that holds me when I wake up screaming from a nightmare. You know that I like to put ketchup on my eggs, and the way I can’t stand black coffee in the mornings, so you add extra sugar just to make it bearable for me and get the ketchup out before I even ask.” 

The smile on Steve’s face is growing wider by the second. 

“You have my entire heart. You know me inside and out probably better than anyone but Wayne. Hell, Wayne already figured this all out long before I did. Lectured me and everything. Called me a late bloomer,” Eddie scoffs, “as if he has any room to speak as an old bachelor who’s never settled down.” 

“Well, he did have his hands full,” Steve chides. 

“I want to argue that I have never done anything wrong, but we all know that’s not true. I probably put every gray hair on his head.” 

“Probably,” Steve agrees. He shifts a little closer to Eddie, “so where does this leave us?”

“I’ve laid it all out there. Ball’s in your court.” Steve ducks his head, but Eddie tips his too, still meeting his eyes, “I’ve been miserable without you. Every time you’ve pretended to be okay and had to walk away because I hurt you, it felt like a knife to the gut. That alone was enough to tell me we were never just friends. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out, but if you’ll have me, I’m all in.” 

Steve reaches up with his other hand and cups the side of Eddie’s face, one cold thumb mapping the curve of his cheek. “Eddie, I’ve been all in.” 

With those few words, a lump forms in Eddie’s throat. He wasn’t sure how this would go, but here Steve is, offering an olive branch. Eddie leans in, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes and absorbing Steve’s heat, breathing in the same air. “You were never the problem, Steve. Not now, and not before.”

Steve breath hitches. The thumb stops its slow tracing of Eddie’s cheek. 

“You read everything right. You’re so much smarter than people give you credit for, sweetheart.” He hopes that Steve believes him. “I’m the fool. You were right there all along. One of the best things to ever happen to me and I almost lost you.” He pauses, “I haven’t lost you, right?”

Steve pulls back and shakes his head slowly, eyes meeting Eddie’s. 

“Good, because I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you again.” A steamy bubble of air escapes between them before his lips meet Steve’s. It’s a short distance, but it feels like Eddie is reaching across miles.

It’s delicate and sweet, their mouths moving together and hands gently curling around each other despite the awkward angle on the bench. They’re a little too cold to get too into this, even if their body heat is trapped between them and Eddie feels like he might implode. He’s all too aware that anyone could come outside at any time. 

A part of him hopes that this erases the memory of how Eddie reacted the first time. A clean slate might be too much to ask for, but at least he can pour all his affection into this one moment and show Steve that he meant what he said. Just like the first time, Steve takes all the air with him. Rips it straight out of Eddie and leaves him panting, clinging to the lapels of Steve’s coat, if only that could bring him closer. They could freeze to death out here, but at least Eddie would die in Steve’s arms. 

When they separate, Eddie takes in the flush to Steve’s cheeks, and he’s not sure if that’s from him or the cold, but his pink, kiss-bitten lips are all him. It makes him want to dive back in and get another taste. But he also wants to memorize the look on Steve’s face. There’s an incandescent glow that Eddie’s never seen up close. And it’s never more evident than in this moment how much Eddie fucked up. He could’ve been putting that look on Steve’s face every day. How stupid was he? 

Nothing he can do about that now except move forward. 

“I’m gonna flirt with you for the rest of my life and it’s going to mean something, Steve Harrington.” He takes both of Steve’s hands in his and holds them in their laps. “I can promise you that.”

“Are you promising me forever?” Steve’s mouth has curved into a bemused smile, but there’s something fragile about it, like Eddie could break him. Like he holds Steve's heart in his hands.

“You’ll have me as long as you want me, Steve,” Eddie says, heartfelt and laying as much of himself on the line as he can. Maybe Wayne wasn’t so far off with his comments about love. 

“So forever, then?” 

Eddie’s breathless from that quiet declaration, but he manages to get out, “Forever, then,” as fireworks erupt in the distance and they start a new year, and perhaps a new life, together.

[diamonddaze01]

beautiful fool

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc: 5.1k genre: angst angst angst angst angst | vaguely based on the great gatsby warnings: really really sad (i’m not sorry) a/n: the angst olympics have begun and this one goes out to serena @gotta-winwin 💕 enormous thanks to @haologram and @ylangelegy for betaing this monster for me i love u!!

the angst olympics are live! check out all the amazing authors <3

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summary: Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope.

It’s cruel, Wonwoo thinks, how the sound of your laughter feels like both a blessing and a punishment.

The laughter now—it reminds him of the first time he heard it, ringing out like an unintentional symphony in this same café, on a day when the clouds hung heavy outside and the tables were quiet. You’d burst in with the kind of presence that demanded attention, the bell above the door jangling in your wake as you called out a cheerful, “What’s good here, huh? I need recommendations from the experts!”

You’d strode up to the counter, all wide eyes and crinkled smiles, resting your elbows on the worn wood like you belonged there. And Wonwoo—awkward, reserved Wonwoo—could only blink for a moment too long before fumbling for words.

“Um,” he had managed, his voice barely carrying over the soft jazz playing in the background. “The, uh, the matcha latte is… popular?”

“Popular?” you’d repeated, feigning horror as if he’d personally offended you. “That’s the best you’ve got? Come on, barista guy, sell me on it! Give me the rundown—what’s the vibe? Is it creamy, is it sweet? Am I about to ascend to a higher plane of existence?”

The words tumbled out of you like you couldn’t stop them, every syllable bubbling with life. He’d tried to respond, he really had, but his gaze kept catching on the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled. How your lips quirked in amusement even as you teased him. How, somehow, your laughter seemed to make the dull, gray afternoon outside feel brighter.

“It’s… creamy,” he’d said lamely, his face warming. “And… uh, it’s sweet, yeah.”

“Sold,” you’d said with a grin that made his chest ache.

When he handed you the drink, your fingers had brushed his for the briefest second. He remembered how you took a sip, sighed dramatically, and declared, “Barista guy, you were right—I might actually ascend. Thank you for this life-changing experience.”

You hadn’t stayed long that day, just enough to finish your drink and leave a tip in the jar, but Wonwoo had found himself replaying the scene over and over in his head that night. He remembered everything—the way you’d wrinkled your nose at the cold weather outside, the exact cadence of your laugh, the way you’d glanced over your shoulder as you left, flashing him one last smile.

He’d learned later, when you became a regular, that this was just you. Full of energy, full of light. But that first meeting stayed with him, a snapshot of you permanently etched into his memory.

The fifth time you came into the café, the heat outside was so stifling that not even the air conditioner could stop the sweat from rolling down Wonwoo’s temples. By then, he’d learned so much about you in the smallest of ways. Your usual drink had changed once—just once—during a brutal heatwave, and you’d swapped it out for an iced Americano, claiming it “felt like a personality betrayal.” He’d learned you liked your pastries warmed, but not too warm, and that you loved to read but always left your books with bent corners, something that made him wince and you laugh.

And he’d learned your name.

That was the first barrier you broke—offering your name with a playful smile as he handed you your drink. “You’ve been calling me ‘matcha latte’ in your head this whole time, haven’t you?” you teased.

He’d stumbled over his words, his ears turning red, and you’d laughed again, your name falling so naturally from your lips it stuck in his mind immediately.

The tenth time you came into the café, you weren’t alone. It was mid-afternoon, the sun cutting through the windows in golden slants, and you’d arrived with a small group of friends. You were louder than usual, laughing as one of them tripped over the step leading inside, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the space like a melody he didn’t know he was waiting to hear.

Wonwoo had been at the counter, trying not to look too eager as you approached with your friends in tow. You gestured to him with a grin so familiar now that it still caught him off guard. “Guys, this is Wonwoo—the guy who knows everything I like.”

The way you said it was so casual, so effortless, but it felt like a stone dropping into the still waters of his chest. He had to steady his hands against the register, swallowing against the sudden rush of warmth that bloomed under his collar.

Your friends turned to him, smiling, teasing, offering their own introductions, but Wonwoo’s attention was already elsewhere. His gaze flickered to you, watching as you pulled a menu from the holder, furrowing your brows as you skimmed it even though you already knew what you wanted.

One of your friends—a tall, confident woman with a sharp laugh—leaned on the counter, fixing him with a playful smirk. “So, Wonwoo,” she said, drawing out his name like it was something fragile. “What’s your secret? How’d you win her over?” She tilted her head toward you, and your other friends chuckled in agreement.

Wonwoo glanced at you, hoping for a lifeline, but you only laughed, waving a hand in dismissal. “He didn’t win me over,” you said, still focused on the menu. “He just knows my coffee order by heart. That’s all it takes to impress me, apparently.”

You said it so lightly, but something in the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for a fleeting second before turning back to the menu made his heart stutter.

“Still,” your friend pressed, undeterred. “Knowing what someone likes—that’s a skill. So, what’s my vibe, Wonwoo?”

He barely heard the question. His eyes stayed locked on you as you laughed at another friend’s joke, your smile softening as you leaned back in your chair. You looked so at ease, so at home in this tiny café, and for a brief, unguarded moment, something in Wonwoo let itself imagine.

Not the café, but a quiet kitchen. Not you at a table with friends, but you sitting across from him, your head tilted as you teased him about his plain food choices. He imagined mornings with you in your pajamas, evenings with you curled up on the couch, the easy rhythm of a life spent together.

It was absurd, of course. He barely knew you, beyond the drinks you liked and the way you always tucked your hair behind your ear when you laughed too hard. But the idea lingered, like the scent of your perfume, sweet and impossible to ignore.

Your friend was still talking, still trying to catch his attention, but Wonwoo only nodded politely, his gaze drifting back to you. You caught his eye and grinned, holding up the menu. “I’ll just have my usual, Wonwoo,” you said, your voice lilting with familiarity.

He nodded, retreating to the safety of the espresso machine, where he could steady his hands and pretend he wasn’t imagining a life that wasn’t his to dream of.

A year after you’d first stepped into the café, you weren’t just a regular; you were the regular. Everyone knew your name, your order, your quirks, but somehow, you’d made it a habit to linger at the counter and talk to him.

It had been a slower afternoon, a rare lull in the usual rush, and you were perched on one of the stools by the register (a part of Wonwoo wondered if you left your usual seat in the corner for him). You twirled your straw absentmindedly in your drink (“surprise me,” you had stated matter-of-factly as you dropped a tote overflowing with papers at your feet. Wonwoo made you a caramel brulee latte, just as sweet as you), a slight frown tugging at your lips as you stared at your laptop screen.

“Another paper?” Wonwoo asked, glancing over as he wiped down the counter.

“Dissertation,” you groaned, dragging the word out dramatically. “The Implications of Procedural Justice on Environmental Law Compliance. Doesn’t it sound riveting?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “It… sounds like a lot.”

“You can just say it’s boring,” you laughed, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “But it’s not, really. It’s actually pretty interesting once you get into it. You know, how people are more likely to follow laws when they feel like the process is fair? I’m focusing on corporate compliance in environmental policy.”

He nodded, genuinely intrigued. “That actually sounds… important.”

You paused, blinking up at him, and then smiled. “See, this is why I like talking to you. You don’t just nod and tune me out—you actually listen.”

Wonwoo felt his chest tighten at your words, his fingers gripping the edge of the cloth he was holding. He ducked his head slightly, focusing on the counter. “Well, you make it easy to listen,” he said softly.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before leaning forward on the counter, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Okay, your turn. I always tell you what I’m up to—what about you? What’s Wonwoo’s big dream?”

He hesitated, caught off guard. “I, uh… I study literature,” he admitted finally, his ears burning. “I want to teach one day. Maybe at a university.”

Your face lit up. “Wait, that’s so cool! What kind of literature?”

“Modern, mostly,” he said, relaxing slightly under your genuine interest. “I’ve been working on a thesis about the intersection of memory and identity in postwar fiction.”

Your eyes lit up, the exhaustion slipping from your features for a moment. “No way! Okay, you’re officially not allowed to judge me for being a nerd anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever judged you,” he replied, his voice quieter now.

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sudden weight of his words hung between you for just a moment too long. Your lips quirked upward, something unreadable flickering across your face, before you leaned back. “Thanks for the drink, Wonwoo,” you said softly, brushing your fingers over the counter before packing your bag.

It wasn’t until later that night, long after you’d left, that Wonwoo let himself linger on the memory. You’d never said his name like that before, soft and deliberate, like you were testing how it felt. He couldn’t help but replay the way your lips had curved around the syllables, how you’d looked at him like he wasn’t just another barista in another café.

For the first time, the thought crept in, unbidden but relentless: This could be something.

It was absurd, of course. You were you—full of life and light, with dreams bigger than the small confines of this café. And he was… just him. But he couldn’t stop the quiet ache that spread through his chest, the flicker of a hope he knew he had no right to hold.

He glanced toward the window, where the neon café sign reflected against the glass. It reminded him of a lighthouse, a beacon in the dark, and he wondered if you could feel it too—that pull, that something unspoken lingering between you.

It had been a slow evening at the café, the kind of night where the clock ticked louder than the murmur of customers, and the air was thick with the scent of coffee grounds and faint traces of sugar. Wonwoo was wiping down the tables, his mind half-focused on the task, when the chime of the door pulled his gaze upward.

It was you, of course.

You always showed up at odd hours, just as the café was starting to empty, like you knew he’d have more time to talk to you then. Tonight, you were bundled in a scarf that swallowed half your face, your nose pink from the cold. You waved at him as you approached the counter, your eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that made his heart do that stupid fluttering thing he wished he could control.

“Hi, Wonwoo,” you greeted, pulling the scarf down. Your breath puffed out in little clouds. “I swear it’s colder in here than it is outside. What’s a girl gotta do to get some hot chocolate around here?”

He smiled softly, already reaching for the cocoa powder. “You could ask nicely.”

“I could,” you said, leaning against the counter. “But it’s more fun to whine about it.”

Wonwoo chuckled, shaking his head as he worked. He knew your drink by heart now: extra whipped cream, a dusting of cinnamon, and just a hint of vanilla. It wasn’t on the menu, but he made it for you anyway, the way he always did.

“Late night studying again?” he asked as he set the mug in front of you.

You groaned dramatically. “Dissertations are evil, Wonwoo. Did you know that? If I don’t turn into a husk of a human being by the time I finish this, it’ll be a miracle.”

“What’s the topic again?”

“Corporate compliance in environmental policy.” You said it like the words physically pained you. “Which, by the way, sounded way cooler in my head when I picked it.”

Wonwoo nodded, leaning against the counter as you took your first sip of hot chocolate. He’d heard you talk about your dissertation before, but he never got tired of it. There was something about the way you got so animated, even when you were complaining, that made him want to listen forever.

“You’ll do great,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him then, your smile soft, almost shy. “Thanks, Wonwoo. That means a lot.”

The café was nearly empty now, the last few customers filtering out as the night dragged on. But you stayed, your mug cradled between your hands, talking about your classes and your professors and the funny thing that happened on the bus earlier. Wonwoo didn’t care that his shift technically ended ten minutes ago. He didn’t care that he still had cleaning to do. All he cared about was the way your laugh filled the quiet spaces around him, the way your eyes sparkled when you told a story.

He felt it again, let himself imagine it —something more. Something real.

It was a dangerous thought, one that he tried to push away as soon as it surfaced. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you were sitting there, looking at him like he was someone worth talking to, someone worth spending time with.

The sound of your phone buzzing broke the moment. You glanced at the screen, your expression softening as you read the message.

“Gotta head out,” you said, standing and wrapping your scarf around your neck again. “Thanks for the hot chocolate, Wonwoo. You’re the best.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, his heart sinking just a little. And then, just before you left, you turned back, flashing him one last smile.

“See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, his voice catching in his throat. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

The door closed behind you, and for a long moment, Wonwoo stood there, staring at the empty table where you’d been sitting. The mug was still there, half-finished, a little smudge of whipped cream on the rim.

Foolishly, Wonwoo let himself hope.

The crash of dishes from the kitchen startles Wonwoo out of his daze. You’re sitting in your usual spot, tucked into the corner by the window, but the air around you feels different now. Electric. It’s him, of course—the man sitting across from you, the one who pulled him aside earlier with a conspiratorial grin and a velvet box. The one who makes your smile light up in ways Wonwoo knows he could never match.

His fingers tighten around the edge of the counter as he watches you laugh, your head tilting back slightly, the sunlight catching in your hair just so. It’s the kind of moment he’s witnessed a thousand times before, but now, there’s someone else at the center of it. Someone who isn’t him.

The ache in his chest feels almost physical, and he forces himself to look away before the bitterness creeping up his throat can take hold. Instead, he busies himself with the mundane—wiping the counter, rearranging sugar packets, anything to keep his hands moving. But it doesn’t stop the sound of your laughter from reaching him, soft and bright and devastatingly familiar.

It’s unfair, he thinks, how easily Minghao fits into your world. The way he leans across the table to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, or the way you reach out instinctively to steady his coffee cup before it tips. These little moments, so effortlessly intimate, feel like tiny fractures in the armor Wonwoo has spent years building around his heart.

When Minghao glances over, catching Wonwoo’s eye with a small, polite nod, Wonwoo musters a tight smile in return. It’s not the man’s fault, after all. Minghao seems kind, thoughtful, genuine. Everything you deserve.

Wonwoo turns back toward the espresso machine, letting the whir of the grinder drown out the sound of your voice. He doesn’t want to hear it—not when it’s directed at someone else.

But before today, there was another moment. The first time you brought Minghao to the café—a moment that still plays in his mind like a film reel stuck on loop.

It was raining that afternoon, the kind of heavy downpour that made people huddle under umbrellas and rush through the streets. You’d come in with someone trailing behind you, your laughter cutting through the sound of raindrops pelting the windows.

“Wonwoo!” you’d called out, shaking water from your coat. “Two coffees, please—my usual and whatever this guy wants.”

Wonwoo glanced up from the register, his gaze landing first on you, and then on the man at your side. Minghao, you’d introduced him as, your voice warm and easy. A friend, you’d said. Just a friend.

But even then, something about the way Minghao looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing—set Wonwoo on edge.

As he worked, he could hear snippets of your conversation, your voice rising and falling in that familiar cadence he’d come to associate with comfort. Minghao was quieter, his words measured, his tone soft, but there was something about him that made Wonwoo’s stomach twist.

When he brought the drinks to your table, you’d looked up at him with that smile, the one that had always felt like it was just for him.

“Thanks, Wonwoo,” you’d said, your fingers brushing his briefly as you took the cup.

But then Minghao had thanked him too, his voice kind and unassuming, and Wonwoo had felt the ground shift beneath him.

For the rest of your visit, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting toward your table. You and Minghao talked and laughed, completely at ease with one another, and for the first time, Wonwoo felt like an intruder in the space he’d always considered yours and his.

When you left, you’d waved at him from the door, your grin as bright as ever. Minghao had followed you out, holding the door open with an easy grace that only deepened the pit in Wonwoo’s stomach.

It was the first time he realized that he wasn’t the only one who could make you smile.

The café had been alive with its usual mid-morning hum—quiet chatter from the tables, the clang of dishes in the kitchen, and the steady hiss of the espresso machine. Wonwoo had been at the counter, lost in the familiar rhythm of his work, when he heard it.

“Iced americano, please,” Minghao had said, his voice calm, self-assured, the kind of voice that felt effortless.

Wonwoo’s hand had faltered mid-pour, his grip tightening on the milk pitcher as the words registered. Iced americano? For you?

He had risked a glance toward your usual table, tucked into the corner by the window, and his chest had tightened painfully. You were there, as always, smiling, leaning forward with your chin resting on your hand. But it was different this time. The warmth of your smile wasn’t aimed at him. It was Minghao who was sitting across from you, soaking it all in. Minghao who had ordered for you.

Wonwoo had turned back to his work, trying to focus on the drink in front of him. It didn’t make sense. You hated iced americanos. He remembered the way you’d scrunched your nose the first time he had offered you one, teasing him mercilessly. “How can you drink that stuff, Wonwoo? It tastes like regret.” Your voice had been playful, your laugh easy, and he had stored that moment away like a keepsake.

But now, here you were, nodding along as Minghao ordered for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Wonwoo had finished pouring the latte in front of him, but his hands had felt mechanical, detached from the rest of him. He had barely registered the weight of the drink as he placed it on the counter.

When Minghao set the iced americano in front of you, his hand had brushed yours briefly before he sat down. Wonwoo had watched as your smile softened, as you wrapped your fingers around the cup like it was something you had been craving. And then you’d laughed, the sound light and melodic, and said, “You know me best, love.”

Wonwoo’s heart had plummeted. He had gripped the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white, the world tilting beneath his feet. The words echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving.

You know me best.

He had turned away, pretending to busy himself with the next order. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of you smiling at Minghao, couldn’t unhear the way you had said those words with such tender conviction.

The latte he had poured earlier had gone untouched, forgotten. Wonwoo had stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of his longing pressing down on him like a lead blanket.

It was in that moment he had felt it—the quiet, gut-wrenching realization that he was losing you. Or maybe, he thought bitterly, he had never really had you at all.

It had started gradually, so slowly that Wonwoo hadn’t noticed at first. But one day, it hit him all at once, an unbearable weight that left him breathless.

The café wasn’t yours anymore.

It was yours and Minghao’s.

Wonwoo had watched from behind the counter as the two of you settled into your usual corner table. It had been your favorite spot for as long as he could remember, tucked away by the window where the sunlight streamed in just right. But now, it wasn’t just yours. Minghao was there, always, his presence seamless, like he belonged there with you.

You were sitting closer to him than you ever had to anyone else. Your shoulders almost touched, your hands occasionally brushing as you talked. Minghao had leaned over at one point, whispering something in your ear, and you had laughed—soft and sweet, the kind of laugh that used to belong to Wonwoo’s mornings.

He had turned away, pretending to be busy wiping down the counter, but his ears had caught every word of your conversation.

“Do you think we’ll need more space if we get two dogs?” Minghao had asked, his voice playful, teasing.

Wonwoo’s hands had stilled, the cloth hanging limply in his grasp. His heart had tightened painfully in his chest, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening.

“Maybe,” you replied, your laughter light and carefree. “But only if you’re okay with them taking over your meditation spot.”

Minghao’s voice warm and steady. “Guess we’ll have to buy that house on the prairie sooner than later, huh?”

Wonwoo had turned his back to you then, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He had clutched the counter like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground, trying to drown out the image of you and Minghao planning a future together. A house. Dogs. A life so vividly painted that it felt like a cruel joke.

The café had always been a sanctuary for him, a place where you existed in the quiet corners of his life. But now, it felt foreign, a space where he no longer belonged. It was your spot now, not his.

He had overheard snippets of your plans, dreams spoken aloud with an ease that tore at him. Every word had been a reminder that he was on the outside looking in, that he was just the quiet boy behind the counter who made your coffee exactly the way you liked it.

The café had once been the place where you smiled at him like he was the only person in the world. Now, it was the place where he watched you fall in love with someone else.

He had stood there, surrounded by the hum of conversations and the clatter of dishes, feeling like a ghost haunting his own memories.

It’s cruel, how easily Minghao trusted him with this moment. How he asked Wonwoo, like it was nothing, to hide the ring in the dessert he’s delivering now. As if his hands weren’t trembling as he plated it, as if his chest wasn’t heavy with the weight of knowing this is the last piece of you he’ll ever get to hold.

The plate feels heavier than it should as he carries it to your table. He’s aware of every step, of every breath, as if his body is moving through molasses. The dessert—a slice of tiramisu, your favorite—rests delicately in his hands, but it feels like a cruel joke now. A symbol of everything he’ll never be.

Your laughter rings out as he approaches, light and melodic, and he wonders if it’s the last time he’ll hear it like this—so free, so untouched by the gravity of the moment about to unfold. Minghao’s hand rests casually on the table, his fingers inches from yours, and Wonwoo can’t help but notice the way you lean into his presence like it’s second nature. Like it’s home.

He sets the plate down in front of you with practiced ease, though his hands still shake when he pulls away.

“Here you go,” he says, his voice steadier than he expected. “Enjoy.”

You look up at him then, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

His name on your lips is both a balm and a wound, and for a moment, he thinks he might shatter under the weight of it. But he nods, retreating to the counter where he can watch from a safe distance, where he can fall apart in silence.

You don’t notice the ring at first. You’re too busy teasing Minghao about stealing a bite before you’ve even had a chance to dig in. But then, your fork clinks against something, and you pause, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“What’s this?” you murmur, carefully pulling the ring free from its hiding place.

Minghao is already on his feet, rounding the table to kneel beside you. The café seems to hold its breath as he takes your hand, his eyes shining with a mix of nerves and affection.

Wonwoo looks away.

He doesn’t need to see it. The proposal. The way your face lights up as realization dawns. The way Minghao’s words tumble out in a rush, practiced yet trembling with sincerity. He doesn’t need to watch you say yes.

But the sound reaches him anyway. Your gasp, the hitch in your voice, the soft “Oh my God, yes,” that shatters the fragile cocoon he’s wrapped himself in. He doesn’t need to watch as you throw your arms around Minghao, your laughter spilling over like sunlight breaking through a storm.

Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, his hands clutching at the edge like it’s the only thing tethering him to the ground. He busies himself with wiping a nonexistent stain, scrubbing at the surface with the ferocity of someone trying to erase something far more permanent.

The café erupts into applause, a ripple of congratulations that echoes around him. He forces himself to glance up, just once, because some part of him craves the closure, even as it twists the knife deeper.

There you are, in Minghao’s arms, your face pressed against his shoulder as you laugh through your tears. The ring glints on your finger—a promise, a future, a life that will never include him. He looks away again, but it doesn’t help. The image is burned into his mind, an afterimage of something he never truly had but still somehow feels like he’s lost.

Wonwoo wonders if this is how it will always feel. If he’ll spend the rest of his life haunted by the ghost of what could have been. If every slice of tiramisu he plates will carry the faint echo of this moment, of your laughter and Minghao’s smile and the unbearable weight of knowing he helped make it all possible.

He hears you call his name, bright and warm and unknowing, and he turns automatically, his heart betraying him even now. You’re holding up your hand, showing him the ring, and your joy is blinding.

“Wonwoo, can you believe it?!” you exclaim, your voice ringing with the kind of happiness that should be infectious, but only makes his chest ache.

His smile is reflexive, a practiced thing, and it feels like it might crack under the pressure. “Congratulations,” he says, the word catching slightly in his throat. “I’m really happy for you.”

You beam at him, and he thinks, not for the first time, how cruel it is to love someone who has no idea they’re breaking you - your smile is everything he ever wanted but could never have.

Later, when the café is empty and the lights are dimmed, Wonwoo sits at one of the corner tables, staring at the spot where you and Minghao had sat. He imagines you there, still laughing, still radiant.

And for a moment, he thinks he sees it in the reflection of the glass—the ghost of a love he never had, far off in the distance. It glows brightly, just out of reach, always just beyond his fingertips. And he, the fool, has spent what feels like his whole life chasing it, pretending he could make it his.

The tiramisu was perfect. The moment was perfect. Everything unfolded exactly as it should have.

And yet, Wonwoo sits there, alone, with the unbearable weight of knowing that some dreams were never meant to be more than that—dreams.

The café feels colder now, emptier somehow, and for the first time, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to find warmth here again. He feels the truth settle over him like the weight of an old, forgotten grief:

You were never meant to be his.

Not really.

Not ever.

[sophsbookstore]

First Family Snow Day

Auston Matthews x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word count: 1408

Hockey Masterlist

It was one of those perfect winter mornings in Toronto. The kind where the snowflakes fell gently from the sky, coating the ground with a soft, white blanket. Inside your cozy home, the fire crackled in the hearth, the warmth contrasting beautifully with the chill outside. You were sipping your coffee, glancing at your daughter Chloe as she giggled from her playpen, shaking a rattle in her little hands.

Auston was in the kitchen, prepping breakfast. His usual morning routine was filled with an odd mix of focus and absent-mindedness. You loved it.

“Hey, babe,” you called out to him, eyes flicking to Chloe as she started to crawl toward you.

“Mhm?” Auston answered, stirring something in the pan. He was still in his sweatpants, hair messy as usual, but you found it endearing.

You set down your mug and walked over to Chloe, scooping her up in your arms as she made little baby noises, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement. “What do you think about taking Chloe out in the snow for the first time?” you suggested, a smile tugging at your lips.

Auston froze, his spatula halting mid-air. “Wait… what?”

You chuckled at his wide-eyed expression. “I mean, she’s never played in the snow before. And it’s a perfect day for it—look how much is falling! We can bundle her up in her snowsuit and go make snow angels or something.”

“Uh… I don’t know.” Auston’s tone was cautious, his brow furrowing slightly. “She’s still so little, what if she gets cold? Or worse, what if she eats the snow?”

You laughed at the image of Chloe scooping up a handful of snow and sticking it in her mouth. “She’s not going to eat the snow, Auston.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “But what if she does?”

“You’re such a worrywart,” you teased, but you could see the genuine concern in his eyes. Auston was, in every sense of the word, a protective father. And you loved him for it. “She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure she’s warm, and we’ll be outside for like… twenty minutes, tops. It’ll be cute. Trust me.”

Auston glanced at Chloe, who was now trying to grab at his pant leg, her tiny hands reaching up to him. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure she’s ready for the snow… or the cold. It’s pretty cold out there.”

You laughed again and pulled him into a playful hug from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’re such a softie. She’s tougher than you think. Besides, I know how much you love snow. I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun as she will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and glanced out the window. He looked back at you with a defeated look. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m staying with her the whole time. No way I’m letting her out of my sight.”

“Deal,” you agreed, laughing as you let go of him. “You’ll have a blast. I promise.”

Auston stood by the door, holding a bundled-up Chloe in his arms like she was a fragile porcelain doll. The snowsuit you’d found for her was absurdly puffy, making her look like a tiny marshmallow. Auston’s jacket was zipped up to his chin, and he wore a face that screamed “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You giggled at the sight of him, already in full protective dad mode. “You look like you’re about to go play goalie, not take Chloe out in the snow.”

“Hey, I’m just being careful,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the front yard. “It’s really cold out here.”

You slipped your boots on and grabbed your own coat. “It’s not that bad. You should feel it when we’re actually out on the rink. This is nothing.”

You opened the door and a gust of cold air hit your face, but you didn’t mind. Chloe blinked at the world outside with wide, curious eyes. Auston took one careful step onto the porch, shifting Chloe slightly as if she might fall apart at any second.

You laughed, walking past him. “Come on, Auston, you’re acting like you’ve never been outside in the snow before.”

He followed you hesitantly, keeping Chloe close. “I’ve been outside in the snow. But she hasn’t. And she’s my baby. I need to protect her.”

You bent down and scooped up some snow, forming a tiny snowball in your hand. “Watch this.” With a quick motion, you tossed the snowball gently at Auston’s chest, hitting him with a soft “thud.”

“Hey!” he grinned, clearly more relaxed. “That was supposed to be for Chloe!”

You giggled. “She’s not old enough to throw snowballs yet, but I’m sure she’ll be able to defend herself soon enough.”

Auston laughed, the tension lifting off his shoulders. He lowered Chloe carefully to the ground, keeping one hand on her at all times. Chloe let out a surprised giggle, her tiny hands reaching out to touch the snow for the first time.

“Oh my God, she’s so cute,” Auston said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

You couldn’t help but agree. Chloe, in her puffy snowsuit, was the epitome of adorable as she bent down and clumsily touched the snow, her little face scrunching up as she felt the cold for the first time.

She looked at both of you like she was waiting for some sort of approval, and then, out of nowhere, she let out a big squeal of laughter.

Auston’s face lit up, and you watched as he knelt down beside her, guiding her hand to make a tiny snowball. “Here, Chlo, you just do this…” he said, showing her how to pack the snow.

You caught the moment on your phone, the soft snowflakes drifting down around them as Auston patiently demonstrated the art of snowball-making to a one-year-old. “She’s going to be a hockey player for sure,” you teased, your heart swelling at the sight of them.

Auston shot you a look. “Not if she decides to play in the NHL and do ballet. She’s going to be multi-talented.”

You laughed. “That’s a lot of pressure for a one-year-old.”

“Well, I’m just saying,” Auston smirked, standing up and brushing the snow off his pants, “she’s got my genes. She’s going to be amazing.”

“Your genes?” you snorted. “Right. The genes that had you tripping over your own feet at eight years old?”

Auston glared at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I was learning. I wasn’t tripping. I was… testing gravity.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you teased. “I’m sure gravity wasn’t testing you right back.”

Auston laughed, but his focus quickly shifted back to Chloe, who had, of course, tried to eat the snow.

“No, no, sweetie,” he said gently, pulling the snow out of her mouth with a wince. “Yucky. You don’t eat that.”

You chuckled. “See? You were worried about that.”

“I knew it was going to happen,” Auston replied, shaking his head as Chloe giggled, clearly amused by her father’s frantic concern.

After a few more moments of playing in the snow, Chloe started to shiver slightly, and you quickly scooped her up, heading back inside. Auston followed you, his expression still a little worried.

“Do you think she’s okay?” he asked, reaching to take Chloe from your arms as you kicked off your boots.

“She’s fine, Auston. She had a blast out there. We’re going to warm her up with some hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate, huh?” he grinned. “I’ll admit, that sounds pretty good right now.”

You put Chloe down on the couch and wrapped her in a cozy blanket. “I’ve got marshmallows, too. The real treat.”

“Now we’re talking.” Auston plopped down next to you, pulling Chloe into his lap and kissing the top of her head. “Maybe snow days aren’t so bad after all.”

You smiled, watching him and Chloe together, the snow still falling softly outside. “Yeah, maybe not. But you’re still the softest dad I know.”

He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, I’m tough. I just care about my baby.”

“I know, Auston,” you grinned. “And she’s lucky to have you.”

And as you sat there with your little family, sipping your hot chocolate and watching the snowfall, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living the sweetest moments of your life.

[gay-barbarian]

All the Way Home I'll Be Warm

Mercy bring Swan to an ice rink to teach her how to ice stake. Just fluff!

You can also read it on Ao3

“It’s really not that scary” Mercy giggled as Swan was holding on to her arm like her life depended on it. 

“Maybe for you. I never did this before, what if I fall?” Swan hissed under her breath trying to keep her anxiety in check. They were at the edge of a packed ice rink, rented ice skates on their feet. It was sunny outside and not that cold for a winter day, the perfect day to spend outside.

A week ago, Swan had made the mistake of mentioning she never learned how to ice skate in front of her girlfriend. Mercy had instantaneously looked at her with the biggest smile and stars in her eyes. She took Swan’s hands in hers and eagerly asked “Can I teach you?”. Swan would do anything to make Mercy happy, so she agreed, hoping they would actually never have time to go. That morning, knowing they both had the day off, Mercy had slipped out of bed and prepared each of them a hot drink, hot cocoa for herself and tea for Swan, in travel cups before coming back to the bedroom to wake Swan up. 

“Good morning baby” Mercy whispered, peppering the warchief’s face with light kisses. “It’s time to wake up.” She added in a peppy voice. 

“I thought we could sleep in today,” Swan grumbled, still half-asleep leaning into Mercy’s touches.

“We could, but I have plans for us, so get your ass up” Mercy announced before going to open the curtains, letting the sun come in the small window of their bedroom. Swan whined and buried her face in Mercy’s pillow, making her laugh. “Five more minutes” the second-in-command pleaded, her voice muffled.

“Nope” Mercy made the p pop and swiftly removed the blankets from Swan’s body. Swan sat up and looked at her girlfriend, annoyed “Mercy!” The tone of her voice would have been threatening for almost anyone else but Mercy just found it cute. The bed hair and sleepy eyes didn't help her look menacing at all. 

“Swan” Mercy copied her tone with a smile as Swan glared at her unamused. She pecked Swan’s lips and headed for the door “Make sure you’re putting on warm clothes, we’re going outside. Love you!”.

“Love you too” Swan muttered, letting herself fall down on the mattress with a sigh. 

<hr>  

One train ride later, they arrived at their destination. Mercy immediately headed to the little temporary wood cabin not far from the rink that seemingly rented what they needed. Swan watched her go, taking a sip of her tea that had been infused way too long. She took a mental note to write down the infusion time required for every different tea she had. She wasn’t a fan of the idea of putting sharp blades on her feet to slip around on frozen water, but she couldn’t refuse anything that would make Mercy happy. And judging by the big smile Mercy had plastered on her face as she came back with two pairs of ice skates, that whole outing was making her happy. Swan took another sip of her drink, trying not to grimace at the bitter taste, and met Mercy halfway. 

Looking at the intricate lace situation on the skates Swan asked deadpan “How am I supposed to put that on?” 

“You let me help you,” Mercy answered, her smile not flattering for a second, “go sit there, I’ll show you how it’s done”. She pointed at an empty bench a bit farther away from the crowd. 

Right as Swan was seated, Mercy kneeled in front of her to take off her shoes. “You know I can do that part myself, right?” Swan asked with a cocked eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

“Too late, I’m doing it” Mercy replied, joyous, as she swapped Swan’s boots for a pair of ice skates and started to tighten the laces starting at the bottom. Swan took a gulp of her tea, trying to hide her blush of embarrassment from watching Mercy help her like she was a little kid.

Just before tying the lace, Mercy asked “How does it feel? Not too tight?”.

Looking into Mercy’s eyes, Swan answered with a soft smile “It’s perfect”. Mercy smiled back and quickly finished tying up Swan’s skate before putting hers on. When she was done, she carefully stood up and offered Swan a hand. Swan put down her travel cup and took her hand, slowly standing up. She was pretty stable in the snow, but she still leaned heavily into Mercy, in part to make sure she wouldn't fall and in part to just be close to her girlfriend. Mercy wasn’t going to complain.

Once they arrived at the edge of the rink, Swan put one foot on the ice checking how slippery it would be, still grabbing into Mercy’s arm. The second her test was done, she brought her foot back into the snow letting out a tiny “nope not doing that”.

“It’s really not that scary”

“Maybe for you. I never did this before, what if I fall?”

“You will, but I’ll be here to catch you. Now stop being a baby and come with me” Mercy told Swan with a comforting smile while stepping on the ice, having a great control on what she was doing. 

Swan took a deep breath and followed Mercy that was pulling a little on her hand. As soon as both her feet were on the ice she stumbled over and fell into Mercy’s arm that was waiting for her. “See? I told you I’ll catch you” Mercy laughed.

Swan wanted to give up right there and then, she didn’t particularly like being the only adult falling down, hell even the kids around them were better at this than her. She watched her girlfriend with a stern look  “If you’re going to laugh at me I’d rather we go back home than be humiliated”. Maybe she was being a big baby, but she didn’t really care. Swan hated being bad at things. 

Mercy’s laugh died down rather quickly when she saw Swan wasn’t joking. She helped Swan get more stable, putting one hand on her waist and the other on her face to make her look into her eyes. “I’m sorry honey, I’m not trying to make fun of you. We’re here to help you learn so no more laughs from me from now on!” Mercy declared with an encouraging smile. Swan nodded silently, still a little embarrassed. Mercy pulled away and offered her arm once more before ordering her girlfriend to take it. 

“I’ll make you fall,” Swan said, taking her arm anyway.

“I’ve already fallen for you, baby, since the first time I saw you” Mercy couldn’t stop herself from teasing with a big smile.

“That’s not what I meant,” Swan grumbled, barely hiding her smile. 

They spent the next twenty minutes skating, mostly falling, around until Swan felt confident enough to let go of Mercy’s arm. One foot in front of the other, she started gliding, gaining more speed with each stroke. She turned her head around to smile at Mercy, until she realised she had no clue how to stop other than dropping herself on the floor. Mercy pointed to the side of the rink, trying to tell her to use it to stop and watched as a panicked Swan hit the sides at full force without reducing her speed. Mercy winced as she heard a loud “Huff” coming from her girlfriend and went as fast as possible to her side. 

“Swan, I’m so sorry you’re okay? You didn’t hit your head? Didn’t break any bones? How many fingers do I have?” Mercy asked rapidly, holding three fingers in front of Swan’s face before Swan could even get fully up, still sitting on the cold ice. 

Swan took her hand in hers and pulled herself up. “I’m okay, just think I had enough ice skating for the rest of the year”.

They made their way back to the train station, Mercy apologizing profusely and fuzing over Swan. As they sat down side by side in the train taking them home, Swan took Mercy’s hand in hers stroking them lightly with her thumbs “Mercy, I told you I’m fine. Don’t worry about it”. 

Mercy frowned and looked down, “You know I can’t do that. Stop worrying about you I mean. I wanted you to have fun today and instead you got hurt and had an awful time. I shouldn't have made you come here…”

Swan freed one of her hands to raise Mercy’s chin up, forcing her to look at her “I had fun, love. It was a very good idea. I could have done without the end but for the most part I had fun. Plus you were there with me all the way, it’s hard to have an awful time in those circumstances.” 

Mercy searched Swan’s eyes for any trace of lying and seemed satisfied when she couldn’t find any. “You’re pretty sappy for a stoic war chief y’know?” She said with a teasing smile. Swan smiled back before replying with a playful “shut up”. Mercy's eyes fell on Swan’s lips before going back to her eyes. “Make me”. 

Swan laughed and kissed her girlfriend on the train bringing them home.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

https://www.tumblr.com/allthisscienceidontunderstand/774504308472479744/live-action-lady-and-the-tramp-but-its-actually

Ace being backstage on the shooting of these cause willy asked her to bring the dogs and she takes the baby and willy takes a picture with him that never gets published 😮‍💨

Also reminds me to ask: do they post him on their social media? Show his face etc or just back shots? - 🎀

first of all, bestie, the noise i let out when i saw these pictures was not ladylike WHATSOEVER

second of all, i LOVE the idea that ace and gunnar were there too!! 🥰

so i think at first, ace is like not into the idea of coming along. she’s only two months postpartum, still feeling weird in her body, doesn’t want the attention that going along with william will bring. but he asked if she’d bring the dogs later in the shoot so they’re not there for the whole time acting up

he’s like “oh no, it’s a closed thing. we’re going when sugo’s closed for the day and if you come along, you’ll get whatever you want off the menu”

the lure of your favorite italian food is what convinces her. so after william’s been at the restaurant for a couple of hours, ace makes sure gunnar is fed and dressed up a little, gets herself dressed up nicely too - makeup, fixes her hair, changes out of the casual loungewear that’s been her staple

the dogs are clipped onto their leashes because ace already has enough on her plate with gunnar in the stroller and she doesn’t need them possibly running off even though they’re very well trained

william is thrilled to see her and the baby and the dogs, greets her with a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. and he looks so handsome in his purplish-pink suit, smells so good, and ace is just a girl who’s halfway in love with her baby daddy

gunnar’s wide awake as soon as he hear’s william’s voice, gurgling and kicking his feet until william rubs a hand over his stomach and kisses the baby’s head too, “sorry, little cakester, can’t pick you up right now just in case you decide to give us an explosion again”

gunnar coos in a way that ace is pretty sure means he knows exactly what he’s doing with the diaper blowouts

she settles in in the carrier while william finishes the shoot with the dogs, bouncing him in her arms and pointing at william, “look, it’s daddy and your puppies. isn’t that so fun?”

and the dogs come to her side too, when they’re bored of posing, scratching at her legs and nosing at gunnar’s socked feet. banksy nips at a sock and tugs it off the baby’s foot, delivering it to william, who laughs and tucks it in his pocket

when things are winding down, william comes to take gunnar, cuddling him close and bouncing him in his arms like a football. the baby grabs at the lapels on william’s suit, chewing on his other fist

they’re adorable together and ace takes a few photos on her phone, sending them to the nylander family group chat that she’s been part of since the summer. everyone blows up her phone with messages on how cute gunnar is

william asks the photographer if he can take a few family photos and ace objects - “no no, i’m not really dressed for it” - but william insists and before she knows it, ace is sitting at the table too, the dogs surrounding her legs while william has gunnar on his lap

there’s a few different shots, including one of ace hovering over william’s shoulder with a napkin after gunnar spit up on the shoulder of his suit. william’s laughing and ace is cringing and gunnar just looks delighted to be there

they get the photos after the shoot, when the ones of william and the dogs are posted on social media and ace can’t get over how good they look. they really look like a perfect little family and it makes her all misty

the photographer even took a few candids of them, william looking at her and gunnar with a soft expression on his face, william grinning broadly at gunnar, ace’s eyes all crinkled up as she watches them 🥹

as for gunnar on social media - i’ll do more of a deep dive, but they generally don’t post him on socials at all for a few months and if they do, it’s just a hand or a foot or a blurry shot, his face is never seen in photos that any of the nylanders post

when he’s a little older, they’re both more chill about posting pictures of the family, also because william and ace are together at that point and the relationship and baby are like toronto’s worst kept secret

they still don’t really post too much of his full face, just for privacy reasons, which is also part of the reason william never says anything publicly about the pregnancy or their relationship 🤍

[lunathewafflelord]

Once again, my dreams inspire a meme

[todayisafridaynight]

INCREDIBLY FUNNY that I refused to settle for just saying "bread" but yes it was those! So in that sense, the lavish bread physics are integral to conveying how important the little things were in getting him through prison. Still, for the sake of the drip…...... perhaps sacrifices are needed...

But yeah, I'm thrilled you noticed those things about the evolution of Jo's design, too! It's super interesting to think about in terms of storytelling, I don't think you're inarticulate in saying that at all. Speaking of, I also just look up "holder" to find prev asks at this point lol

Jo and Ichi's dynamic is also a major topic of interest for me (as we've seen). I think a lot of what's going on with them is definitely some variation of "old habits die hard." That's natural when you form that kind of uneasy coexistence. But like you mentioned, it's also telling that Jo picked up the nickname in the first place, because I went back through the entire script, and it really is the case that only Arakawa, Masato, Jo, and the people who raised Ichi call him that. It's reserved for his family.

I think this line about Aoki (that I completely forgot about before looking at the script again lol) may also shed some light: "A long time ago, I knew him as the young master. He knew me as Ichi." Because they all do that, don't they? Ichi still says Captain, Boss, and Young Master, Jo still says Boss, Ichi, and Young Master, Aoki still says Dad and Ichi.

Even though on paper these relationships should've dissolved with Ichi being expelled, Masato becoming Aoki, and Jo taking over as second patriarch, to one another, they're all still who they used to be. And as an aspect of how they communicate, the "learned language" that forms in families, it stands out when they're all on the same page with the terms they choose to use.

This line from Ichi also stood out to me: "But my aniki taught me different. He said whoever makes the first move is the victor. The guy with steel balls wins." Like, that's clearly Jo, right? For one thing, the "flavor" of aniki is different from Captain, of course--one is directly an appointed post, and one is more open to interpretation--but it also clearly shows that Jo's imparted his "philosophy" to Ichi in some ways.

I think, to a degree, it's one of those holdovers from RGGO that wasn't fully implemented. Because they're more or less the same in RGGO in this regard, but RGGJo does outright say it makes him weirdly happy that Ichi still calls him Captain, so that's a clearer indicator and makes the idea feel more "complete."

With what I said before about their "learned language," too, the Arakawa Family has this way of saying goodbye that's specific to them, and I really miss it in Y7. It is referenced briefly, but it's not a "thing" like it was in RGGO. It's kinda like how The Gang in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia greet each other with "Hey-ohhh!" LMAO idk but. I Enjoy. But that's also why it stood out to me that LaD8Jo greets Ichi the same way as Y7Jo and RGGJo.

ALSO that is so sick the author of Soliloquy saw your art…… incredible……….. + as an aside since I was reminded, it's very true that sometimes people seem to "fill in the blanks" with tropes, and my favorite is honestly when it's both funny and offensive. There was this whole "phase" (and to everyone's credit it was short-lived) of playing Mine up like this Huge Misogynist because he's not attracted to women, and it's WILD to recognize that he's gay but still pull up homophobic tropes for funsies.

Like I was mad at the time mostly on account of the mischaracterization (because come on, even if you've only seen Y3, he is still uncharacteristically soft with Katase… not that he wasn't INSANE for The Slap, but it also wasn't at all rooted in the same things as say, Nishiki slapping Reina might've been.) But it was funny. Perhaps not in the way it was intended to be, but it was funny. And, you know, that's why I'm happy to stay in my own little corner as well.

You coulda just said bread it's ok 😭 I WAS right though it WAS a carb......

On the subject of language though, it's def something I picked up on (if my last ask wasn't any indication lmao)! It's a real neat detail and something I think helps push that 'family' theme Y7 has going on (or at the very least demonstrates how despite the times changing, they still have those bonds with each other whether they acknowledge it or not), it definitely being a case of picking up a habit/term from family.

About tropes in fan works though, I can't act like I'm guiltless of it LMAO so I don't have too strong of a leg to stand on when it comes to criticizing it (and I can't lie, sometimes I do find playing into the trope funny if it's at least based on something from the text and it's just exaggerated For The Bit yeah). However I do think the strangest thing was linking misogyny and Mine (I made a post rambling about it but deleted it like. .3 seconds later) because nothing he does in either Y3 nor RGGO is explicitly misogynistic? In the slightest? And as we talked about before he's considerably pretty respectful towards women? Again, he surely did slap a little girl, but it wasn't because she was a girl you know (still cringe to do but if we're gonna talk about it let's do it right please and thank you). As you say though, pushing that trope onto Mine just feels like perpetuating the harmful stereotype that gay men hate women, and in cases like that then I can't really take the piss out of it without having a weird taste in my mouth.

[teaboot]

One time my mom took me to a hibachi grill with a bunch of her friends and if you've never been to a hibachi grill basically the draw is that theres a bunch of interactive performance stuff done by the cook who cooks for you at your table, and one of the tricks they did at this one was take a squeeze bottle full of liquor and shoot it into your mouth across the table (with permission)

And now at our table my mom explained this because it was my first time going, and she wanted to make sure to warn me it was liquor because she knows I don't drink- she just said "if he offers to shoot at your mouth, say no because it's alcohol".

And so the chef does his thing and it's all very impressive, but the time does come where he pulls out this squeeze bottle of booze and asks me if I wanna try

I of course say no, because I really don't do alcohol, so he moves on to someone else

And I watch, and slowly come to understand that this is some sort of game, because once someone is drinking from the continuous flow the chef starts counting "ONE! TWO! THREE!"

I realize that we're trying to see who can keep drinking the liquor from three feet away without choking or spilling, and its a bummer cause i kinda wanna try and I CAN'T

But he goes around the table with everyone there, and I think my mom makes it to three, one friend makes it to five, I think my brother got to three as well, and he comes back to me

And I'm REALLY bummed out now but I will not drink alcohol, so I sort of sadly repeat that I can't when he pulls out a SECOND BOTTLE and grins and goes "juice?"

And Im like FUCK YEAH LET'S GO and I'm a bit worried he's gonna spray it into my eye or something but he doesn't, it hits me right at the back of the throat, and I start drinking while the whole fucking table counts "ONE! TWO! THREE!"

And like

It just sorta

Kept going?

And Im looking at the chef and he starts freaking out by the time we get to six, and at around seven I kinda start looking around and my auntie is staring back in shock, my brother is laughing his ass off and my mom has her face in her hands

And then at like nine or ten it gets like. Super tense and quiet, and only the chef is still counting

And I guess it got too much for even him cause we're at eleven and I don't believe in quitting early and it is almost painful how awkward it's getting

So he cuts me off at twelve and raises his hands in the air and everyone else cheers and claps like a dumb movie

and I just sit back in my seat to look back at my mother staring at me surrounded by everyone she knows, bright fucking red in the face and choking with honest to god tears in her eyes and she puts her face back in her palms and starts chanting "I don't want to know. I don't want to know. I don't want to know"

So I give her the biggest, proudest grin and tell her, "I won."

So now every time something suggestive happens in a movie, or in conversation, or something shocking happens around us and she goes to jokingly cover my ears, I just ask her, "Remember when I won?" And she goes face-down and groans, because I know EXACTLY how she thinks I trained to develop that particular skill and she HATES knowing that about me

The truth is though, I'm a whole ass 28 year old virgin. I've never so much as kissed anyone in my life. I had no idea I could do that trick until that exact moment

But she doesn't know that, and I'm never gonna tell her

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Oh God. You were going to die. This was it. It wasn't demons or Muzan that take you in the end. It was your damn husband and his insatiable lust and stamina.

Lying face down on the bed, you panted against the mattress, your face a mess of tears and sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes rolled up and cheeks painted a bright red. Behind you, tugging at his cock and eager for round...whatever the next number- was your husband.

Maybe you shouldn't have riled him up the way you did. You know how possessive he can be so why on Earth did you purposefully get him jealous by flirting with another man? Oh, right. Because you wanted to get fucked rougher. Well, you got what you wanted and now you're going to die.

You jumped as you felt the familiar sensation of a fat cock press against your entrance, your stuffed cunt instantly begging for mercy. You swore that if he fucked you one more time- made you cum one more time- filled you with his seed even one more time- you'd see the pearly white gates call for you.

You gripped onto the bedsheets and pulled yourself away, your body working on autopilot as your husband had successfully fucked the brain cells out of you. You heard him chuckle as you tried to crawl away, your body feeling like jelly, your arms and legs numb and barely capable of getting you to the edge of the bed before:

A pair of hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back, laughing at your whine of protest. Uzui reeled his hand back and smacked you across your already beaten ass before he spread your legs and gave an equally painful spank to your pussy, making you scream. "Now, what made you think that was a smart idea? Try running away again and see what happens."

Obanai lets you think you escaped before he grabbed you by the ankles, ignoring your cries as he pulled you back towards him. He flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing, making you squeal as he took a nipple between his fingers and twisted, your back arching off the bed. "Are you trying to piss me off even more?"

Just as you reached the edge of the bed, wondering if you could make it, you felt Rengoku press himself against your back and- oh- fuck! He slid right inside you! You gasped as the man pushed his cock in with one fell swoop, taking your breath away as he instantly started moving his hips, preferring to fuck you where you were instead of dragging you back. "Get comfortable, baby. I'm not done with you."

Sanemi caught you the second you tried to move, simply reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull harshly. You yelped as your neck was forced to snap back, your back arching as your husband pulled at your hair, his other hand looping to the front to grab you by the neck before he leaned towards your ear and growled: "I'm going to give you a choice. I can fuck you here, on the bed, or I chase you and fuck you where I catch you and trust me, I won't be as nice."

Gyomei didn't say anything, even as you got off the bed and onto your wobbly feet. You wondered if you could just leave when he said, in his booming voice: "Are you sure that's what you want to do?" You froze, body trembling. Why was one sentence enough for you to rethink your whole lives decisions? You didn't know what Gyomei meant by it, but you knew it probably wouldn't be fun. With a gulp, you climbed back onto the bed before getting in front of your husband. You spread your legs wide as you lay down in front of him, reaching down to grab at his fat cock and press it against your entrance. The man smiled as he slowly started to sink inside your familiar heat. "Good girl."

Giyuu grabbed you by the legs and pulled you back while also changing his own position. To your horror, you found yourself slung over his knee, a predicament you just experienced an hour before which was why your ass was a bright red already. You started apologizing profusely, kicking your legs like a toddler but your husband simply ignored your pleas and held you down, the task quite easy for him even if one arm of his was free to do the spanking. "It seems one round wasn't enough to discipline you. Guess we have to go again."

[chastiefoul]

love and deepspace men when you (playfully) reject their kiss ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel

fluff, fluff, FLUFF

zayne

his kiss landed on the outer corner of your lips instead as you turned away at the very last second as he leaned in

he just stared at you for a solid five seconds.

“was this because i left you on read this afternoon?” his voice was soft, uncertainty danced across his feature. you just shrugged, turning away from him to hide the smile you’ve been trying really hard to suppress.

he grabbed a hold of your waist first, keeping you in place. he saw the shameless smile on your face, couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle of his own. “should’ve known.”

you laughed, “but you did left me on read, how dare you?” his thumb moved up and down on your side as he made no change on his expression, like doing a gesture he didn’t even realize doing it. “alright then, i apologize for not replying within twenty minutes, since i did give you a call as soon as i was available.”

you put your hands on either side of his cheeks, he leaned into the touch. of course, it didn’t bothered you one bit when he didn’t reply right away since you knew very well how demanding his job was.

you planted a sweet kiss on his lips, you could feel his little smile as you pulled away. “good work today, zayne.”

“hm, then surely you would indulge me more of that for a moment longer?”

xavier

he’s quiet for a moment; he did kiss you, but he didn’t know why you’d turn your head on the last second like that as he kissed you on the cheek instead.

he casted his gaze downwards, looking like a rejected kitten in a pouring rain searching for its owner.

your heart squeezed at the adorable act, lifting his chin with your palm. he tilted his head questioningly, the words was obvious on his face. did i do something wrong today? were you mad?

xavier stared at you as he recalled today’s events, but he reached his wits end pretty fast since he still had no idea why you’d reject his kiss.

you then giggled at his clueless expression, and xavier immediately understood that you’re being playful. he let out a little sigh of relief, embracing you. his neck deep at the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you in the best way possible.

“you’re too playful at times,” he mumbled, he looked like he had all the peace in the world. “sorry, will you forgive me?” you ran your fingers through the back of his head. “i’ll forgive  you if you promise not to reject my kiss ever again,” he said.

you laughed, “okay then, if you insist.”

rafayel

oh. he looked so offended beyond belief. you’d think someone had insulted his painting; a product from his passion and effort. but to think it’s just a face he made because you didn’t want him to kiss you.

“i see what this is,” he started, the dramatic side of him just wouldn’t let this slide. you challenged, “yeah? what is it?”

“you tell me. this is just the beginning isn’t it. first you reject my kiss, next thing i know you’d be packing your bags, telling me you’ve fallen out of love.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his pout was the most exaggerated as it’s ever been.

you had to hold your laugh so hard, you covered your mouth with your fist. “it was just a kiss rafayel, i wasn’t feeling it.” you replied, trying your best to sound serious.

“wasn’t feeling it?” he gasped, like you just insulted his whole entire bloodline. he put up a palm in front of your face, like refraining you to say more controversial things. he took a deep breath to calm himself, “it’s fine, it’s not like i was eager to kiss you either.” he mumbled like he was talking to himself, although it’s obvious he’s being a little loud on purpose. also, lies. he practically bounced on air when he approached you.

finally a laugh escaped you, rafayel looked at you and he just fumed. “just so you know i expect you to make up for all the emotional distress i just went through.” you laughed a little more as you grabbed a hold of his face. “i would kiss you many times to make it up but i think someone just said he wasn’t really that eager to kiss me?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of a kiss, and next second he looked around frantically to make an excuse. “it’s okay i understand, fighting that many wanderers who make a lot of strange screeching noises? it’d disturb your hearing a little. i said i was eager to kiss you.” he smiled, nodding to himself. you laughed once more at his ridiculousness.

“sure, let’s go with that excuse.” you kissed him and when you pulled away he held your head, giving you multiple kisses before he let you go with a grin.

[nanaslutt]

• I will always catch you •

ʚ synopsis: You and Nanami play a game of tag, if he wins he spanks you

ʚ cont: fem reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

You stood with your hands perched on the back of the couch, your eyes not once straying from where they were glued to Nanami's opposite the couch from you, the only thing that separated the two of you besides the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. "Ten second headstart." You said, already feeling your heart start to pick up at the promise of Nanami chasing you around. 

You knew logically no matter how much time you asked for, he would always catch you in the end, but that's what you wanted, not that you would tell him that—even if he already knew. Nanami nodded, removing his hands from his pockets confidently, his mouth barely quirking up in a smile at the corners, the skin beside his mouth dimpling with it. "You won't catch me this time." Lie. "We'll see." Was his only reply before he raised his hands and started ticking down his fingers, letting you know he had started the timer.

You ran around the couch, passing him where he stood on the other side as you ran for the kitchen across the room, using the large island in the middle of it to separate him from you. It was your best bet to escape him for as long as possible, wait him out here, bait him to stalk you around the island, and shoot up the stairs for his office which had the only locking door in the house save for the bathroom, but that was too close to the kitchen, you needed more time to get away. 

You watched, eyes bright and heart racing as his fingers hit 1, then he closed his hand tightly, letting you know you were out of time before he started walking toward you calmly. Your smile grew larger the closer he got, as did his, though he was far more cocky and confident than yours which was playful and full of adrenaline. "Aren't you going to run, sweetheart?" Nanami asked, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to the kitchen, standing across the island from you.

"I told you I learned some new tricks, you won't catch me this time." You said confidently, moving slowly toward the corner of the island, trying to bait Nanami into following you. And sure enough, he did. He didn't reply to you, just started walking towards the side in which you were closest to him, making you walk away from him, the two of you slowly circling the kitchen island as you made your way back to the opening of the living room.

You knew not to avert your eyes to his and give away your plans, if he caught you looking towards the direction you were going to run, he would catch you—no doubt about it. Nanami was taller and faster, his long legs eating up the space between you like nothing whenever you ran from him, so you had to be smart about this. "We'll see if your tricks are enough." Nanami finally voiced, stopping in his tracks diagonal to you, him standing where you just were in the kitchen, your positions now reversed. 

You smiled at him in response, showing your teeth before you turned abruptly and took off sprinting across the living room. Your heart raced in your chest, the sound echoing through your whole body and making that the only thing you were able to hear. You wanted to turn around so bad and see how close he was, but you knew you couldn't afford to do so. You let out a laugh as you reached the banister on the stairs, gripping it tightly as you pulled yourself forward, using that momentum to run up them as quickly as you could. 

You tried not to think about how Nanami often went up the steps two at a time, so if he was running he could probably manage three or more... shit. Your adrenaline was still pumping, making you more assured of yourself as you reached the top of the stairs, sure he wasn't right on your tail. His office was in your sight already as you pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the end of the hall. You were mentally praising Nanami for his constant pushing to leave all doors in the house open unless they were being occupied so the air could flow freely between them, making it so none of the rooms were stuffy—meaning the door was wide open and all you had to do was grab that door and slam it like your life depended on it. 

You could only feel your own steps as you raced down the hall, surprised that he hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet, but that meant you had one, you finally had one. You reached the office and grabbed the handle before spinning yourself around and momentarily disorienting yourself before you were snatched into a pair of strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder with a scream of surprise. You felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and run away at the shock.

How had he got you so fast? You were sure he wasn't on your trail, but apparently, that had been wishful thinking. "Nanami!" You laughed, kicking your legs against him, trying to free yourself as he held you over his shoulder with an iron grip, his arm locked tightly around the back of your thighs so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp. Your laugh was cut short when a harsh smack was left on your ass, the sting making you whip your hands back and cover yourself from him. 

Nanami swiftly kicked the door shut behind him and stalked over to his desk, wrenching your hands away from your ass easily in his grip. "This is my reward for catching you, hands down." He said calmly, the deep baritone of his voice making you shiver as he pulled you off his shoulder and spun you away from him, using his body to press you against the edge of his desk and pushing you down on it with his hand on the middle of your back.

You weren't able to resist his moves, the speed of his actions making your body more pliant than you would've liked. The papers on his desk crumpled under your chest as you tried to push yourself up so you could stand again, and maybe try to attempt to run away, though you never had been successful at that before. Kento grabbed your wrists with both his hands and locked them behind your back with strength only he could possess, freeing himself a hand as he kept you at his mercy, rubbing his free hand against the swell of your ass.

"The new trick you tried didn't work so well." Nanami cooed, stating the obvious and making your face feel hot as he rubbed your loss in your face. "Were you planning to lock yourself in my office?" He asked, sliding his hand up and down the side of your body, making your skin prickle under your shirt. "Yeah, I was close too." You said defiantly, trying to gain back even a little bit of your ego. You had been so sure of yourself and now look at the position you ended up in.

"Mmm," Nanami hummed, the deep sound of it in his throat making your legs part willingly for him as he pressed his knee against the inside of your thigh and made you spread them. "What were you planning to do once you were in here?" He asked, making you pause. You looked around his office, thinking on his words. I don't know, relish in your victory? Bait him through the door? Write taunting notes about how he's a loser and slide them under the door for him to read?

"What do you think would happen when you opened the door? You couldn't stay in here forever." He asked confidently. "I'd come out because I would have won." You said quickly, the answer obvious, "There is no time limit on the game." He said, his fingers pushing up the back of your shirt and sliding against the skin of your back, pushing the fabric against your arms that were locked behind your back. The gears in your head started turning as you considered his words. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning your head as far to the side as you could manage to look at him from under your lashes. "I will always catch you, you can't escape me." You opened your mouth to complain, to whine about how the game has been rigged from the start, how there was no way you could ever win, when a loud slap against your ass stopped your words from coming, a different sound escaping you. Your hands balled into fists as you wiggled back against him, trying to find relief against the sting that never came. 

"That's not fair." You pouted. Nanami huffed out a laugh before his large hand rubbed across your backside, his fingers finding the hem of your shorts before pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "No, it's not." He agreed, another harsh smack making contact with your skin, making you jump. Nanami's warm hand stayed against your flesh rubbingaway the pain as he pressed closer to you, his crotch pressed against your left thigh. "But you don't mind as much as you're trying to make me think you do." He said assuredly. 

You felt a tick of annoyance run through you before it was almost completely snuffed out by another slap of his hand, this one followed by two more in quick succession against your other cheek. "Why would you think that?" You sighed, trying not to pant through your words and give in to him as much as you wanted to. "This whole game has been rigged the whole time." You complained, your eyebrows shooting up when he pressed his knee against your clothed cunt, making you press try to press your legs together--an action that was stopped by his knee that was knocked into your own, keeping you spread. 

Nanami gripped your ass in his hand before leaning over you, massaging the fat of your backside as his weight crushed you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He rut his hips against your thigh, letting you know how much he was enjoying his win before he pressed a kiss right under your ear. You shut your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as all complaints left your brain, the only thing you could think of being the weight and scent of him as he consumed you entirely. 

"You like it when I chase you, but you like it when I catch you even more." He whispered against your ear, his voice making you clench around nothing. "You're so cocky." You breathed, making him breathe out a laugh before he placed a kiss on your neck, the top of your spine, your shoulder blade. You held your breath when his hand that gripped your flesh slid between your legs, your body welcoming him as you spread your legs wider for him.

You couldn't stop the gasp that fell from between your lips when he pushed aside your panties like they were never there and rubbed his fingers through your wetness before dragging them across your clit. "And you're soaked, sweetheart," Nanami replied, showing you just how right he was about how much you loved being caught by him. But you didn't need him to tell you that, you already knew. 

Nanami leaned back from crushing you with his body at the same time he slid his fingers back down to your entrance and pushed two thick fingers inside you like it was nothing—and it might've well been, his fingers getting swallowed up by your wet cunt with ease. The groan that left your lips made his cock twitch in response, the feeling of his hard length against the back of your thigh driving you crazy. 

He released your arms from being caged behind your back, which you immediately used to grab the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Just when you were about to beg him for more, he slapped you again, harder this time, your ass stinging at the impact while your pussy tightened around his fingers like a vice. Nanami echoed your moan with a groan of his own as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching of your cunt echoing throughout his office.

"I can feel how much you like it." Nanami groaned, his voice deeper and more assertive with his arousal prominent. "Fuck," You whined, wiggling your hips back to meet his thrusts." Smack, another slap making you whine, a fuzziness starting to build in your mind as he fucked you harder on his fingers. "Tell me how much you like it, honey." Nanami moaned, though it sounded more like a beg as he rubbed his hips harder against your ass, trying to relieve himself on you. 

"Kento," You whined, thrusting your hips back against him harder. A clinking of a belt and a zipper following the sound told you Nanami was ridding himself of his own pants. Another slap against your sore ass was all the motivation you needed to answer him, nodding against the desk. "I love it Ken, I love it, it feels so good." You whined, your clit throbbing at the lack of attention as you wiggled back, hoping he would relieve you soon. 

You cried out when he pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, "Shhh, don't cry-" His words ended as he slammed himself inside you in one thrust, the stretch and slight burn of the sheer size of him making your eyes roll back in your head as he started up a brutal pace inside you, giving you little time to adjust before his hand dropped to your clit just as you wanted while his other massaged your soon to be bruised ass. 

Without his knee between yours anymore, you were able to squeeze your thighs together around his hand as your orgasm wracked through your body, making you scream as he pounded it out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside your soft walls and prolonging your high as his expert fingers matched pace with his thrusts on your clit. "K-kento-" You whined, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist that kept rubbing your oversensitized clit, the pleasure of it bordering on pain. 

"I know, I know, honey." Nanami cooed, his voice soft but his actions a stark contrast as he slapped your ass twice, once on each cheek, never once faltering his rough thrusts inside you, "You have to let go, sweetheart. Let go of my hand." He instructed, making you shake your head back and forth violently, only resulting in his fingers rubbing faster back and forth along your clit, it was almost too much.

"T-too much, Kento- f-fuck-" You cried, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to lean forward to escape the pleasure, but he just followed you with his thrusts, knocking hard into your g-spot each time he slammed inside you. "No, it's not, Iknow what you can take." He replied dismissively, massaging your ass in a circle. The two of you had a safeword that had been long established and never used, and you weren't thinking about using it now, so maybe he was right, maybe he did know how much you could take.

You simply whined in response, feeling another orgasm quickly creeping over you, no escape from it in sight. "Let go of my hand, sweetheart, I won't ask again," Nanami said through a groan, his hand briefly coming up to cradle your cheek in a sweet gesture before he slid it back down your body and slapped the back of your thigh. The niceness of his words and the roughness of his actions made it hard to combine them into one person, you almost wanted to curse him out for sounding so unaffected but you knew he wasn't fairing much better than you.

The small sounds of him grunting and cursing under his breath told you exactly how he was doing. Kento's thrusts started losing their rhythm as he lost himself inside you. Begrudgingly, you let go of his hand, your own shaking as you placed it back on the edge of the dest, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping it. "Good girl, I have you, I-I'll take care of you." The sound of Nanami's words getting choked off by a groan made your clit throb under his fingers. It was a fucking headrush knowing how much this man lost himself to you. 

"Please-" You begged, unsure of what you were asking for but knowing you weren't going to last much longer. "Let it out, I'm right behind you." Nanami nodded, leaning over your body and wrapping an arm under your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest as he humped his cock in and out of you, the stretch and loss of him with each thrust making you go a little dumb in the head each time. 

"Cum-" You weren't even able to finish your sentence as you came with a cry at the same time Nanami placed his lips on your cheek and kissed softly, trailing those kisses over your shoulder and neck as his fingers and cock worked in perfect harmony to draw your orgasm out of you. "Coming, I'm coming- oh my god-" Kento groaned through his teeth, his hair tickling your face as he buried his head in your neck and ground his hips flush against yours. 

The circular movement of Kento's hips against your ass made your legs shake with sensitivity as his fat tip rubbed against your g-spot as he emptied his balls inside you. A warmth filled you from the inside out with each kick of his cock as he came, rope after rope of his seed filling you just like he did every time he fucked you. A loud, low, continuous groan left his throat as his balls throbbed with his release, his fingers finally ceasing their rubbing against your clit as he went still, basking in his orgasm while keeping himself inside you. 

You reached a shaky, weak amr behind you and grabbed the back of his neck, gently scraping your nails up along his neck and trimmed undercut of his hair. Nanami hummed in satisfaction before he lifted his head and found your lips with ease, kissing you gently and lovingly, like the two of you had all the time in the world and nothing would ever separate the two of you. 

He pulled away and looked at you, a content expression on his face. He leaned in to press one more kiss against your eyelid before he pulled back entirely, smoothing his hands down your sides as he pulled out of you, making the both of you moan at the missing contact of the other. You already wanted to whine about how empty you felt, but you knew you could have him whenever you wanted so that feeling didn't last long.

"My ass hurts." You complained, breaking the silence as you were now finally able to feel the full extent of his actions without a clouded mind. Kento laughed as he pulled your panties back in their rightful place, keeping his cum stuffed inside you as he patted his fingers over your cunt before dropping down and sliding your shorts up your legs. "I'm sorry, my love. I'll take responsibility." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"You gonna massage my ass all night?" You asked, pushing your body up and leaning against the back of the desk, not yet ready to fully rely on your shaky legs yet. "Of course, I was the one who bruised it after all." Kento nodded as he buckled his belt back into place before stalking forward and caging you in with his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck like you've done a thousand times and let him lean in to kiss your neck, his hands wrapping around your waist to help you stand.

"Good." You said, relishing in his kisses before speaking up again, grabbing ahold of his face and pulling him back so you could look at him properly before you asked your question. "Was the game really rigged this whole time or were you just saying all that to be sexy?" Nanami smiled at that, his own hands grabbing your cheeks as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, to lessen the blow of his inevitable answer you knew was coming. " You know it is, I will always catch you." 

[rafesangelita]

♡ in an attempt to get sheep!reader to be more vocal about what she wants in bed, rafe only gives her what she’s able to say..

warnings: heavyyy teasing, corruption kink (?), fingering, lots of dirty talk, praise, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, light fluff

a/n: i see your req’s for more sheep!reader works, don’t worry i’ll be working on them soon! <3

wc: 1.8k

“come on, ‘pretty, all you have to do is use your words..” rafe’s eyes traveled down your naked form, his fingers ghosting over the soft flesh of your thighs. this was absolute torture. “rafe, i can’t!” you cried, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. your boyfriend took so much pleasure in knowing that you were far too shy to ask for what you wanted, a smug grin gracing his lips as heavy tears threatened to spill from your eyes. you looked away from him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “i won’t say it..” you mumbled, gasping softly when rafe dipped a finger between your glossy folds.

“won’t say what?” he taunted, barely stroking your clit before pulling his hand away. you let out a shaky breath, meeting his eyes for the first time during this whole ordeal. “please.” you whimpered pathetically, hoping, begging, rafe will give into your pleas. rafe shook his head, giving your side a little pinch. “i don’t know what you’re asking for.” he shrugged, his cock aching against his briefs. you drew your eyebrows together, your heart beating in your ears as you considered your next words. “i want you to touch me..” you whispered, your chest rising and falling as rafe offered you a teasing smile.

“touch you where? here?” he placed a hand on your knee, “here?” your arm was next, “..or here?” you whined in frustration when you felt his palm rest on your tummy. rafe was purposely making this hard for you, and he was enjoying every second of it. “no!” you spread your thighs in hopes to draw his attention elsewhere. sure enough, rafe looked down, his jaw ticking at the sight of your puffy folds. “fuck.” he cursed under his breath. “i need you down there..” you trailed a foot down his torso, stopping right below his v-line. rafe knew you what you trying to do.

“i don’t know where ‘down there’ is.. i think you have to explain it to me, doll.” rafe wasn’t going to let up. you started thinking of ways to word yourself, the implications of what you had to say only made you more embarrassed. ‘vagina’ felt too proper to use in this situation, ‘pussy’ was too lewd for your liking, and ‘cunt’ sounded so aggressive, you didn’t know what to make of it. swallowing thickly, you knew rafe wanted to hear you say the second option more than anything. in your mind, you thought if you said the dirtiest thing, he would have to give you what you were crying for.. right?

“i want you to touch my—” rafe leaned forward. no fucking way you’d say it. “m-my pussy?” it was comical, seeing the way you avoided his heated gaze. rafe had never heard a curse word fall from your lips, let alone that word specifically. “was that so hard?” rafe laughed, sitting between your thighs as he spread you open, his cock twitching at the sight of your glistening succulence dripping down your cunt. with the pad of his thumb, rafe began circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, the long awaited sensation making your hips roll forward. “don’t move.” he warned, keeping a hand on your hip.

you shuddered, settling into your soft sheets as rafe then prodded a finger at your entrance. he teased your slit, slipping just the tip of his digit inside before gathering your slick and gliding the wetness up to your clit. “feeling empty, huh?” rafe saw you pathetically clench around nothing, your eyebrows knitting together in desperation. “y-yes, please! ‘want your fingers now.” rafe was pleasantly surprised, the second time around seemed to be more easier than the first time you requested something. “look at you, you’re doing great, baby.” your boyfriend praised you, deciding to reward you with two fingers instead of one.

your breath got caught in your throat when you felt the stretch of two digits inside your cunt, your mouth falling open as you hiccuped at the feeling of rafe’s long, thick fingers curling inside of you. still using his thumb to rub your clit, you cried out when you felt him press on that gummy spot that made you see stars. “o-oh!” you whimpered, your thighs shutting around rafe’s hand. forcing your thighs open, rafe leaned his weight on one of your legs, and used his free hand to pin down the other one, forcing you to take what he gave you. “you look so pretty when you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

rafe’s words sounded muffled, your heart beating in your ears when you felt the familiar heat start to simmer in your tummy. your hand rested on top of rafe’s, his fingers interlacing with yours. “you’re taking it so fucking good,” he leaned down, taking your lips in a searing kiss, “gonna make you cum, is that what you want?” you nodded helplessly, in which rafe tsked. “say it. say that’s what you want.” he urged. with the quietest tone you could muster, you spoke. “please make me cum..” rafe would’ve appreciated you saying it a little bit louder, but he figured he was lucky if he got you to say it at all.

picking up his speed on your clit, he watched with dark eyes as your face morphed into one of full blown pleasure, your lips swollen from rafe nipping at them. the wet sounds of your cunt made your cheeks heat, your chest caving in as you teetered the edge of pure euphoria. your hand shot up to grip rafe’s arm, your nails digging into his skin as your thighs trembled from your high washing over you. rafe always stared at you in awe whenever he pushed you over the edge, the little sounds leaving your lips never failed to drive him crazy while your velvety walls squeezed around his digits.

“nghh— rafe!” you squeaked, a string of sobs tumbling from your throat as he continued to bring you down from your high. rafe littered your neck and chest with wet kisses, your fingers running across his scalp. you whimpered when rafe pulled away, your eyes trailing down his toned stomach as he slid off his briefs. wrapping a hand around your ankle, you yelped when he yanked you towards the edge of the bed, running his cock over your still fluttering cunt. “tell me you want me to fuck you,” he groaned when he felt your slick coat his length, “tell me you want my cock inside you.”

you were hysterical at this point, bending at his will as you did what he asked. “please fuck me, ray. ‘want y-your cock inside me!” you repeated, your back arching off of the sheets when he slammed into you without warning. “fuck, baby, you have no idea what you’re doing to me,” rafe leaned down, caging you between his arms, “hearing you talk like that, s’driving me fuckin’ crazy.” you wrapped your legs around his waist, his biceps on either sides of your head. he filled you to the hilt in this position, bottoming out as his pubic bone grazed your clit with every thrust.

your eyes fluttered shut as you held him close to you, his breath fanning against your cheek as he whispered the filthiest obscenities in your ear. nothing else existed when you two were like this. it was like the world stopped spinning whenever he felt you taking him so good. “you’re so fuckin’ perfect, you know that?” he squished your cheeks together with one hand, your eyebrows knitting together as you gazed up at him, “always so pliant with me, ‘makes me wanna see what other fucked up shit i could make you do.” he chuckled, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

rafe could see the slight fear in your eyes, a gentle ‘shhh’ leaving his lips as an attempt to reassure you. “don’t worry, we’ll save that for another day.” he pecked your cheek, his hips snapping into you faster than before. you held onto his broad shoulders, the sound of his skin smacking against yours made you want to curl in on yourself, the lewd echo of it bouncing off of the walls. soon your legs were feeling like jelly and you couldn’t keep them locked around rafe’s build. sensing your struggle, he pinned the back of your knees against your chest, getting a full, clear view of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy.

“ah, fuckkk,” rafe drawled out, absolutely hypnotized at the sight. he glided with ease, your folds hugging him snugly. the grip you had on his cock was enough to make his muscles constrict with the need to fill you up, your pretty clit glistening with his precum. “m’gonna need to film this next time, you’re fuckin’ unreal.” he choked back a groan when you somehow managed to clamp around him even tighter. “h-holy shit,” rafe’s hips stuttered, his face scrunching when he began twitching, your second orgasm of the night hitting you with more force than the first one.

as if on cue, rafe peaked when you gripped the knitted blanket at your side, both of you moaning so loud you were sure ms. celia, the sweet old lady next door, could hear you two. rafe didn’t stop fucking into you until every last drop of his cum was lost in the heaven that was your cunt, his eyes rolling back when he stayed nestled inside of you. rafe helped your legs back down, your chest rising and falling with each breath you took. swallowing thickly, rafe sighed as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “my god..” he looked at you incredulously.

how you had that innocent sparkle in your eyes right after doing what you did was beyond him. “that wasn’t so bad..” you whispered, running a finger down the underside of rafe’s jaw. “no, not at all. you did amazing.” he was still inside you when he leaned all his weight on you. you always felt so safe and secure every time rafe did this. you reveled in the feeling of his heart beating against your own, your eyelids heavy as sleep threatened to come over you. “i could fall asleep like this..” rafe mumbled. you giggled, a lazy smile gracing your features.

as much as you would’ve loved that, a hot shower was far more needed. after ten minutes of convincing rafe you two should get cleaned up for bed, and after round two ensued under the shower head, you and your boyfriend had finally cuddled up under the sheets, his warm skin mingling with yours. once you two exchanged ‘i love you’s’, you were out like a light. the next morning you had went out and checked the mail, spotting ms. celia rocking on her chair with her morning coffee in her hand. “good morning!” you waved, in which she smiled. “how did you sleep, dear?”

“just fine! i had a pretty long night..” butterflies fluttered in your tummy at the memory. “oh, i bet! it sure sounded like it.”