#let him have his earring and his leather jacket and his PERSONALITY

[thesulkycroissant]

My first ever experience with Kon was watching the Young Justice TV show, and when I started reading comics and I saw people talking about him in fandom spaces, I simply did not get it

But then

I opened the YJ comic from the 90s

And I was like

Oh

Anyway, the Young Justice cartoon did Kon SO DIRTY, that's it, that's the post

[hiraethwrote]

ADMIRING FROM AFAR

pairing : choso kamo x f!reader summary : suddenly the quiet, alternative looking guy catches your eye in class and you're unable to shake the idea of him. from afar, you start to create a fantasy of what he might be like — and eventually your imagination has made up a character you slowly find yourself falling for cw : university au, non-curse/modern au, fluff, pining, pierced and tattooed!choso, smoking, one mention of a party, yuki cameo, terrible ending bc i suck at writing endings, no use of y/n word count : 3.6k

Hallway crush!Choso who didn’t stick out to you until you were halfway through the semester, on a random Tuesday.

The only reason he caught your attention in the first place was because he actually raised his hand to answer the professor’s question, something he had never done before, or since.

His husky, yet surprisingly soft voice, broke the deafening silence that came after the question was asked. Nearly in a trance, your head shot up to get a look of the mysterious guy.

Never had you been more thankful for the mandatory core courses you were forced to sign up for — you would never have encountered him otherwise.

Sitting two rows in front of you and five seats to the left, you weren’t able to get a clear view of the guy. However, what you did see, did not disappoint. Tufts of black hair was tied up in two buns, and silver jewlery decorated his ear. He was wearing all black, shy lines of ink peaking up the neck of his shirt and past his sleeves.

From that moment, you were hooked on the idea of this stranger.

Hallway crush!Choso who you spotted nearly daily now that you were aware of his existence.

You had an assignment due in one week, so you decided to go to the library to actually get some work done for once.

Three hours into your study session, you had to exhale deeply as your motivation was running low. So you let your eyes roam the peaceful scenery of fellow students, some more dutiful than others — when you suddenly spot the mystery guy from class, sitting with three other people.

He looked so casual, leaned back in his chair, arms loosely crossed across his chest as a chuckle played on his lips as a response to something the person sitting next to him said.

Now that you had the opportunity to get a proper look at him, you noticed how extremely good looking he was — the type of breathtakingly handsome that hid in plain sight by how he never tried to stick out whatsoever.

For the next hour, you would subtly shoot glances in his direction. In all honesty, you felt somewhat embarrassed by how you found yourself a little infatuated by a guy you didn’t even know the name of.

All of a sudden he raised from his chair, having you straighten your posture. He pulled his leather jacket over his shoulders, his bag across his chest and put his headset on — with a smile and a nod, he begged his friends goodbye and left.

Hallway crush!Choso who, despite having his small group of friends, tended to stick mostly to himself.

Yeah, he sat with his little crew for a few hours, but he always left before the rest of them. Not to mention you often spotted him walking from one class to another in his lonesome.

On the days the library was absolutely packed, and it was impossible for you and your friends to find any available seats, you would sit down at one of the sofa groups in one of the university’s many long hallways. None of you complained either, as there wasn’t the same pressure to remain quiet.

It just so happened that the man who had captured your interest, walked right past your designated spot at least three times every week.

His headset was on like always, walking with easy determination. He simply seemed to mind his own business as he smoothly made his way through the hallway without bumping into anyone.

Your attraction to the dark and handsome stranger wasn’t as subtle as you first had thought, when it didn’t take your friends more than a day to notice your admiring gazes hanging onto him for the few seconds it took for him to walk by.

“Who’s that?” Your friend asked with a playful lilt to her voice, leaning forward and placing her chin in the palm of her hand.

“Hm? Just someone in my social science class,” you answered nonchalantly with a shrug just as he was out of sight.

“Just someone in your social science class,” she repeated mockingly. “And what’s his name?”

Hot embarrassment raised up your neck, “I don’t know,” your voice weak as their teasing chuckles filled the space.

“So you’re just ogling a stranger, essentially?”

“Shut up, he’s hot,” you fired back as you fell back in your chair, desperately trying to ignore their laughter.

Hallway crush!Choso who only continued to remain a mystery as the weeks went on.

It quickly evolved into somewhat of an inside joke — a game almost, all of you pitching in with silly little ideas of what he might be like.

“He looks like a cat person,” your friend whispered as he walked by.

“Oh, no doubt,” you agreed, eyes glued on his back. “Probably grew up with a family cat that always sleeps at the foot of his bed.”

“You think he greets the cat before his family?” She giggled.

You laughed along as you slowly shook your head no. “Don’t think so. He greets his mom first,” you turned your attention to your notebook, your pen drawing mindless doodles across the pages. “He’s a mama’s boy. But not in a weird way, you know? But in a green flag way.”

They would all laugh along to the daily chatter that filled the group before turning back to their own work, forgetting all about him until he would walk by again.

You, however, couldn’t shake him from your mind quite as easily.

The more they fuelled your fantasy with their fun and innocent ideas of who he might be, you fell deeper into the spiral of your crush.

When left alone with your own mind, your imagination went beyond the small quirks your group came up with — you started to imagine meet-cutes.

What if you “randomly” bumped into him at the little coffee shop just off campus?

What if you were paired up for a group assignment?

What if you ended up next to each other in the kitchen at some random frat party, and the conversation would just flow so naturally?

However, you kept those made up scenarios to yourself, because it was too shameful to admit to your friends that you were slowly falling for the person you had made him out to be — still without a name to put to the face.

Hallway crush!Choso who broke your heart just a little, though totally unaware of the fact.

“I didn’t know your man had a girlfriend.” You shot your friend a confused expression before following her gaze.

That was a first. You had never seen him walking down the hallway accompanied by someone. Let alone a tall, blonde and absolutely gorgeous girl, pure confidence running through every fibre of her body.

After that, you saw just the two of them more often than you liked. And you knew it was absolutely ridiculous to even be bothered by the pair, but you couldn’t control how the lump in your stomach formed at the sight of how well they seemed to fit together.

Her look wasn’t quite as edgy as his, but they definitely had the same vibe. Not to mention they seemed to be close, evident by how she always leaned in and grabbed onto his upper arm when he made her laugh, or how just the two of them would leave their study session in the library to share a cigarette.

You hoped seeing them together would eventually kill the proximity crush your brain had stupidly nourished — it turned out to be the opposite.

Watching him interact with her only granted your imagination new material to build on. Whenever she spoke, he had all his attention directed at her — genuinely listening to every word she said. You watched how he was gentle with her, careful not to be too harsh in his movements whenever he made contact with her.

He just seemed like such a good guy, who made your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him.

Hallway crush!Choso who one day actually did crash into you in the line in the cafeteria.

At first you thought you were dreaming, because the scene played out exactly how you had imagined it so many times in your head.

It was lunchtime, meaning the cafeteria was obviously packed. You were blissfully unaware of his presence behind you, having stayed up a little too late the night before to try to get some understanding of the material you had been assigned.

It wasn’t until a random bystander bullied their way through the crowd in the opposite direction, causing him to stumble forward into you and he quickly uttered a polite apology, that you realised exactly who it was.

Strong hands had grabbed onto your arms to help steady you. When you turned to face him, you wished you were able to utter your own apology — however, the words never made their way past your tongue, too startled at the sudden close interaction.

“People really don’t look where they’re going, huh?” he said, a shy curve to his lips as he let go of you.

“That’s people for you,” you tried to joke once you found your words again.

Your heart was beating a million miles an hour as you watched his eyebrows narrow. “Hey, don’t we have social science together?”

He recognised you.

You cleared your throat and nodded weakly, trying to serve him a sweet smile but you could feel the waver in it.

“I’m Choso, by the way,” he smiled casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Once again you tried to smile, but your lips only managed to pull into a thin line as you introduced yourself.

You expected that to be the end of the conversation, that he would pull out his phone in an effort to smoothly round it off without it being too awkward for either of you — but to your surprise, you saw him contemplate his options before opening his mouth again.

“How’s the assignment going?”

“Well,” you started, hoping he didn’t notice the little crack in your voice. “The words are, at the very least, being put on paper, if that tells you anything.”

He chuckled.

You made him chuckle. It was low and coarse, but a chuckle nonetheless. “Sounds familiar.”

He continued to keep the chatter light as you moved along with the queue, completely oblivious of the effect he had on you.

It wasn’t much, but just based on the little interaction, he seemed even more lovely than you had imagined, which only did more damage to your already smitten heart. Because being effortlessly attentive when listening and engaging in the conversation though he didn’t need to, only brought a piece of reality into your fantasy.

Your palms were turning clammy as your heart was pounding against your chest so loud you were sure he heard it. He was, after all, standing closer than one normally would a stranger due to the thick crowd of hungry students surrounding you.

“Well,” he sighed once you’d both paid and stepped into the hallway. “I need to get going. But it was nice to finally meet you for real.”

Finally.

Nice to finally meet you.

“Yeah, you too,” your lips twitching in a smile, heat travelling to wash over your face. You had always thought him to be so incredibly handsome, but you had underestimated how charming his smile was up close.

“I’ll see you around.” The curve of his lips continued to linger as he backed away before he eventually turned his back towards you and removed his headphones from around his neck to put them on.

Hallway crush!Choso who slowly started to gain the title of acquaintance after the reenactment of one of your made up scenarios.

It started very casual — he would greet you with a quiet “good morning” as he walked past you in the auditorium before taking his usual seat two rows in front of you.

“Morning,” you smiled in return while he held your gaze for a little while.

Waking up the days you knew you had class with Choso became a little easier when you knew what friendly routine was waiting for you.

After three weeks of the innocent interaction, he decided to disrupt the comfortable pattern you had fallen into. This Tuesday morning, he didn’t continue walking down the stairs after wishing you a good morning.

No, he stopped dead in his tracks, pointing at the empty seat beside you. “Is this seat taken?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and shook your head. “No. No, all yours,” you stuttered as you moved your bag for him to sit down.

He uttered a weak “thanks,” and made himself comfortable, pulling out his leather bound notebook and pen.

Hallway crush!Choso who turned out to be a lot funnier than you had first imagined.

Too caught up in the potential romantic gestures that entertained the depths of your mind, you found yourself so giddy whenever he whispered a silly joke during class for your ears only.

Hallway crush!Choso who accompanied you for the few minutes it took for you to walk to your friends after class finished.

“I’m headed in that direction anyways, so I’ll just tag along.” You’d be a fool to decline his offer, cutely biting your bottom lip and clutching your laptop closer to your chest, feeling like a love struck teenager.

When coming around the corner, you avoided looking in the direction of your friends at all costs. You knew you wouldn’t be able to suppress the embarrassment that would flush your face if you witnessed their shocked expressions as a reaction to walking alongside the guy you had fawned over for months.

It wasn’t until he was out of sight that you spun around — sure enough, they all sported exactly the facial expression you had expected, staring wide eyed with their jaws slacked.

“Okay? Something you forgot to tell us, babe?” One of your friends gushed once you had taken your seat. You shrugged innocently, trying not to let all your excitement spill over at once.

“Hope you at least know the name of your stranger now,” the one sitting opposite you teased.

You nodded slowly, “Choso,” you answered simply, enjoying the interrogating looks they were giving you.

“And? Give us the details!” All three of them had pushed their school work aside — this was ten times more important after all.

So you began to explain of the happy accident that had taken place a few weeks ago, and it had eventually ended with the two of you always sitting next to each other during lectures — none of them failed to match your energy.

“Wait, but I thought he had a girlfriend?”

And as easy as that, your girly and romantic fantasy shattered into a million pieces. Guilt was written all over your friend’s face as one could literally see the realisation dawning on you.

Having lived in the pure bliss of your new friendship, you had completely forgotten about the goddess he was so often seen with.

You started to reflect over the fact that you couldn’t remember seeing her in a while, and felt sick that you might have been too wrapped up in Choso that you just hadn’t noticed her recently.

Thus your excitement was short-lived, not ever wanting to be that girl.

Hallway crush!Choso who noticed how your mood was drastically different than normal the next time he met you.

He had looked forward to seeing that sweet smile tug at your lips when he wished you good morning, but instead he was met with a cold “hi”. You didn’t even turn to look at him.

Had he done something to upset you? The last time he saw you, nothing seemed to be off. You were your chipper self, greeting him with a curve to your lips so wide, your eyes would crinkle.

Class started, and you had yet not said another word to him. He shot you a glance, seeing your fingers hurriedly travel across the keyboard of your laptop, and every once in a while letting your eyes flicker up to look at the professor.

Maybe it was just a bad day. Maybe you had an exam in a different course that was causing you unnecessary stress.

Or maybe, god forbid, you’d come to the conclusion that Choso wasn’t someone you wanted to waste your attention on after all.

Hallway crush!Choso who decided to walk you out of the auditorium, despite your cold front trying to push him away.

It was awkward — incredibly awkward, a feeling that really hadn’t been present in the newly blossomed friendship. Still with no words exchanged, you packed your stuff and pulled out your phone.

Once outside of the auditorium, Choso wanted to try and start a conversation to try and disclose whether he’d done something or not. He only managed to catch your eyes when calling your name before a bolting figure came crashing into his side.

“There you are! You’re an impossible man to catch these days,” the girl exclaimed.

Choso saw the discomfort that subtly traveled down your face, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“I’ll see you around, Choso,” you said shyly, about to turn around and walk away before the blonde captured your attention.

“Wait, is this the girl you’ve been talking about?” You quickly spun back around, eyebrows pinched together in confusion as the blonde girl had peaked your interest.

Switching your attention to Choso for a second, you noticed how dusty pink had coloured his pale cheeks, his eyes wider than you’d ever seen them.

“It might be,” he said before clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders, hoping you didn’t notice the stress that was residing in his body.

“Finally,” she groaned, her hand shooting forward to initiate a handshake. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while. I’m Yuki.”

You still weren’t able to completely put the pieces together yet, blinking at her as you accepted her hand and introduced yourself.

“Oh, I know,” she mused, flashing you a cheeky grin. “This one right here,” patting a flat hand against his chest, “doesn’t really stop talking about you.”

A shy smile spread across your lips as you quickly shifted your gaze to him. “You’ve been talking about me?” You spoke softly.

“Well-” he stuttered, the pink quickly deepening into red.

A teasing scoff shot past her teeth. “Isn’t he cute when he gets shy,” she said as Choso’s shoulders grew stiff under her embrace. “You have that effect on him.”

When the opportunity to properly observe the dynamic between the pair in front of you, as well as digest the things Yuki was actually telling you, the pieces finally fell into place — they were just friends.

You had worried and spiralled for no reason, having spent the days since you had last seen him to prepare you to distance yourself from him.

But one look at his embarrassed face and tense body as a result of being teased about you, had all the butterflies come swarming back within seconds.

Choso kept most of his attention on Yuki as she went on to ask him what she’d initially come to talk to him about, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes dart over to you every once in a while.

“My god, you’re my saviour,” Yuki gushed at her friend, tugging playfully at his arm, before turning back toward you. “He’s truly a catch,” she said with a wink as she slowly started to back away. It had you grow a little restless, knowing you would soon find yourself standing alone with him. “Be good to him. And it was great to finally meet you!”

And she was off.

Slowly Choso turned his entire body towards you, his face having done the impossible and gotten even more red.

“What an interesting interaction,” you breathed.

A nervous chuckle slipped out of him in an attempt to remove the immense pressure that was looming over him. “She’s really something.”

“What was that part about me making you shy?” Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I mean-“ he cleared his throat. “I guess you’re seeing it in action right now.”

“Hm,” you said simply, causing him to narrow his eyebrows in response — both in confusion and slight worry.

“Hm what?” Swallowing the lump in his throat.

“It’s cute.”

Then he couldn’t stop smiling.

Boyfriend!Choso who managed to live up to every bit of your love dazed fantasy.

At times, you were scared you had let your fantasy go to far — that in your desperate hope for something more, you had created a character that no living person would ever be able to live up to.

Yet here Choso was, in the flesh, embodying every scenario you had made up when you had been tossing and turning on sleepless nights, and then some.

Small or big, he never disappointed.

He held the door open for you, he remembered your coffee order, he showered you with compliments and admiration.

It didn’t take long for him to learn how you yearned for grand gestures — so Choso made it a mission to fulfill those dreams.

Not only did he succeed, but he excelled well beyond your expectations.

He made sure to take you on dates frequently, but also spontaneously so you wouldn’t see them coming. He managed to make every occasion feel planned and intentional.

Boyfriend!Choso who was absolutely baffled once you told him about how you had admired him so intensely before you ever talked to each other.

The confession caught him completely by surprise, because he couldn’t in his wildest dreams have imagined you even noticed him before the little episode in the cafeteria.

Boyfriend!Choso who despite succeeding in making you his girlfriend, got just as shy about you now as he did then.

tags : @sad-darksoul

an : i hope it's a universal experience to create proximity crush that drives you crazy... dividers by @/strangergraphics comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2025 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[prodbymaui]

Freak — 이해찬.

skirt off, fuck in the backseat

“Fuck,” You whisper under your breath as you see a glimpse of your skirt flying to the other side of the car. You then hear a grunt from Haechan, his black leather jacket and plain shirt in the same color joining your skirt.

Neither of you knows when and how you ended up in this position. Though, you do know that it started when your eyes met his from across Jihoon’s house.

“Chew him up, dear,” Ningning cackles in your ear when she catches you and Haechan arguing whether you’ll do ‘beerpong’ or ‘truth or dare’.

And chew him up you did. Just in another way.

Haechan swoops the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss once again, shoving his tongue in your mouth knowing well it’s welcomed and expected. His free hand travels down to your bare legs, squeezing the flesh of your thigh.

The car is hot and you’re dripping in sweat, yet it didn’t stop Haechan from wrapping his arms around you as he tugs you impossibly closer and licks the expanse of your shoulder to your neck. He hums in satisfaction.

You push him by the shoulders and tangle your fingers in his hair. “You’re such a freak,”

He scoffs and sports a cocky smirk. Haechan lifts you on his lap before dropping your weight down, effectively slipping his length fully deep in to your pussy. Gasping harshly, your hands scramble to find leverage on the same shoulders you pushed a moment ago.

“Cat got your tongue?” Haechan slips out his cock just before the tip and roughly thrusts it back in, punching out a whimper bordering the lines of a yelp out of you.

“Shut—“ You pull away and lean on the passenger seat’s backrest. Your hand then makes its way to cover Haechan’s mouth. “Up,”

Despite only having the upper part of his face visible, you could still see the way his eyes gleam with slyness. Just like that, annoyance bubbles inside you once again.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” You mutter irritably as your grip goes from hovering over his lips to his throat.

Instead of bouncing, your hips swirl around his hard length. You lean forward just enough to look him straight in his eyes and watch as it rolls to the back of his head, his mouth falls open as he basks in pleasure.

Haechan swears the combination of our warm walls tightening continuously with your hand choking him just how he likes it will be the death of him.

Dying in the hands of the most insufferable and annoyingly attractive person he had ever seen is something he never planned, but was nevertheless finally accepted.

“Ah shit,” It’s a whimper that escapes Haechan’s lips.

“Close?” You stop your movements and ask tauntingly.

He thrusts his hips upwards, as if frustrated. “Move,”

A brow raises due to his order. Your grip closes on his throat a little tighter.

Irritated, he looks you in the eye in an attempt to challenge your power over him. To his dismay, Haechan melts underneath you as you slip out of his cock. His prior firmness turns into a mush.

He grunts and tries to resume his thrusts. “I swear to— I’m close,”

“Yeah?” You let out a laugh.

“Yeah,”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Haechan calls out your name. “Make me come,”

“Make you come?”

He gulps, determined not to back down. And yet once squeeze and a raise of his brow, he lets out an exhale.

“Please,” Haechan finally says. “Please, make me come.”

Satisfied, a smile stretches in the corner of your lips as you place a kiss on his forehead and lips.

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle & Kate Kane

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- You never imagined how someone like Jason Todd could hold himself with such a dangerous blend of confidence and recklessness. He walks like he owns every inch of ground he treads, his leather jacket slung over his shoulders, the red of his helmet tucked under his arm. You don’t know what possesses you when you walk past him, catching a glimpse of his lean frame and the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe it’s the sheer magnetism he exudes, or maybe you just can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches out, and you deliver a sharp, playful smack to his rear as you stride by.

- Jason freezes mid-step, his body going rigid for a split second before he turns to face you, an incredulous look spreading across his face. “Did you just—” he begins, his voice caught somewhere between outrage and amusement. But then that signature smirk of his grows wider, sharper, and his blue eyes gleam with a dangerous, playful edge. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he teases, advancing toward you with a slow, deliberate menace that’s all bark and no real bite. You laugh, the sound light and carefree, because you know Jason’s ire is more for show than anything else.

- He catches you around the waist, pulling you into his arms with ease, the leather of his jacket brushing against your skin. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his lips ghost over your ear. “But you’re not getting away with it.” There’s an edge of fondness in his tone, a warmth that softens his usual bravado. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, may wear his scars like armor, but when he’s with you, he’s softer, more human. You bring out a side of him that no one else gets to see, and he revels in the feeling of being seen by you, flaws and all.

- Later, as you sit curled up on the couch together, his hand resting casually on your thigh, he leans over and murmurs, “Next time, warn me before you do something like that. I might just enjoy it a little too much.” He grins at your surprised expression, his laughter rich and unrestrained. Jason Todd is a man of contradictions—gritty and rough around the edges, yet tender and fiercely loyal to those he loves. And in that moment, as he looks at you like you hung the moon, you know you’ll always be the exception to his every rule.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- It’s hard not to admire Dick Grayson as he moves with a fluid grace that’s almost otherworldly, every step a testament to his years as an acrobat. He’s the kind of man who lights up a room without even trying, his smile warm enough to melt the iciest of hearts. As he passes by you, his toned physique impossible to ignore, you act on a mischievous whim. Your hand darts out, delivering a quick slap to his behind, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space.

- Dick stops in his tracks, his back straightening as he turns to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Did you really just do that?” he asks, his tone playful as he raises an eyebrow at you. But the corners of his lips are already twitching upward, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. “You know I have a reputation to maintain, right? What if someone saw?” His words are teasing, but there’s no mistaking the delight in his voice.

- He crosses the room in a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms with that effortless charm of his. “You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His hands settle on your hips, his touch warm and grounding as he looks at you with a fondness that makes your heart skip a beat. Dick Grayson has always been a people person, someone who gives his all to everyone he meets, but with you, it’s different. With you, he lets his guard down completely, his love unfiltered and true.

- Later, as the two of you sit on the rooftop, the city sprawled out before you, he leans back on his hands and chuckles. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he says, glancing over at you with a grin that’s equal parts exasperated and enamored. “But I love it. I love you.” In that moment, with the stars above and his hand brushing against yours, you realize that Dick’s love is the kind that makes you feel like you’re flying, weightless and free.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim Drake has always been the picture of focus and determination, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and contingencies. He’s the kind of man who gets lost in his work, his attention consumed by the mysteries he seeks to unravel. But as he walks past you, his nose buried in a tablet, you decide to do something to pull him out of his reverie. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack his rear, the sound sharp and unmistakable.

- Tim freezes, his eyes widening as he processes what just happened. Slowly, he turns to face you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Did you just…?” he begins, his voice faltering as he searches for the right words. He’s flustered, his usual composure slipping as he stares at you, half-amused and half-embarrassed. “I didn’t see that coming,” he admits, a small, awkward laugh escaping him. For someone so perceptive, you’ve managed to catch him completely off-guard.

- He sets his tablet down, his curiosity piqued as he steps closer to you. “Care to explain yourself?” he asks, his tone light and teasing as he folds his arms across his chest. But there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet affection that belies his playful demeanor. Tim isn’t one to let his guard down easily, but with you, he doesn’t have to try. You bring a sense of ease to his life, a warmth that balances out the weight of his responsibilities.

- Later, as he sits beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, he glances at you and smiles. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his voice filled with admiration. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tim Drake may be the genius detective, always one step ahead of everyone else, but with you, he’s just Tim—a man who’s hopelessly in love with the person who keeps him on his toes.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin (Aged up)

- Damian Wayne walks with the confidence of someone who’s spent his entire life being told he’s destined for greatness. There’s a regal air about him, a sharpness in his gaze that makes people think twice before crossing him. But as he passes by you, his posture impeccable and his expression carefully composed, you decide to test the waters of his stoic exterior. Your hand darts out, delivering a swift smack to his rear.

- He stops abruptly, his head snapping around to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Did you just…” he starts, his voice laced with both outrage and confusion. For a moment, he seems utterly at a loss, his usual composure shattered by your unexpected audacity. But then his lips press into a thin line, and he narrows his eyes at you. “You’re insufferable,” he declares, though the faint pink tinting his cheeks betrays his embarrassment.

- Damian steps closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he fixes you with a glare that’s more bluster than anything else. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?” he demands, his tone sharp. But there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a warmth that he can’t quite hide. Damian may be the heir to the League of Assassins, but with you, he’s just a young man learning how to navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.

- Later, as the two of you spar in the training room, he catches your wrist mid-strike, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re infuriating,” he says, his voice low and almost fond. “But I suppose I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Damian Wayne may be a warrior at heart, but when he’s with you, he allows himself to be just Damian—a boy who’s discovering that love is the greatest strength of all.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara Gordon is a force to be reckoned with, her mind as sharp as her combat skills. She moves with a quiet confidence, her every action deliberate and precise. As she walks past you, her auburn hair catching the light, you feel a sudden surge of mischief. Before you can think twice, your hand reaches out, delivering a playful smack to her rear.

- She stops mid-stride, her head tilting to the side as she turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Really?” she says, her tone dripping with amusement. There’s a playful glint in her green eyes, and you can tell she’s already plotting her revenge. Barbara is nothing if not quick on her feet, and you know she won’t let you off the hook easily. “You realize you’ve just declared war, right?” she teases, a sly smile spreading across her face.

- Barbara steps closer, her hands resting on her hips as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says, her voice warm and affectionate despite her mock-annoyance. With you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let go of the weight of being both Oracle and Batgirl. You remind her that it’s okay to laugh, to let her guard down, and to simply be herself.

- Later, as the two of you sit in front of her computer, the glow of the screens casting a soft light over her features, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she murmurs, her voice filled with affection. “But you keep things interesting.” Barbara Gordon may be a genius, a fighter, and a hero, but with you, she’s just Barbara—a woman who’s found someone who makes her feel alive in a way she never thought possible.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie Brown has always been a whirlwind of energy and determination, her spirit unrelenting even in the face of impossible odds. She walks past you with that carefree confidence she wears like armor, her blonde hair bouncing with every step. You can’t help but admire the way she carries herself, equal parts stubborn and radiant. Acting on impulse, you reach out and give her a playful smack on the rear as she strides by.

- She stops dead in her tracks, her head whipping around to face you. “Excuse me?” she exclaims, her voice full of mock indignation, though the corners of her lips are already curling into a mischievous smile. “Did you just Spank the Spoiler?” she asks, emphasizing her vigilante codename with a dramatic flair. Stephanie has never been one to take herself too seriously, and you can see the spark of amusement in her bright eyes as she folds her arms, pretending to be offended.

- In a flash, she’s back at your side, poking you in the ribs as she laughs. “Oh, you’re so in trouble now,” she teases, her voice light and full of affection. There’s something infectious about her laughter, a sound that seems to chase away the shadows in your life. Stephanie Brown is a fighter, yes, but she’s also someone who finds joy even in the smallest, silliest moments. She loves fiercely, and her heart is as big as her grin.

- Later, as you both sit on the couch sharing popcorn and bad movies, she nudges your shoulder and gives you a cheeky grin. “Next time, maybe warn me,” she says, her tone teasing. “Or don’t. I kind of like being caught off guard.” Stephanie leans against you, her warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. With her, life is always an adventure—messy, unpredictable, and full of laughter.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra Cain moves like a shadow, her every step silent and purposeful. She walks past you with a grace that’s almost hypnotic, her petite frame radiating a quiet strength. You’ve always admired her discipline, her ability to say so much without uttering a single word. But today, you decide to shake up her composure. As she walks by, you reach out and deliver a playful smack to her rear, the sound breaking the otherwise tranquil air.

- Cassandra stops, her body going still as a statue. Slowly, she turns her head to look at you, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She blinks, clearly unsure of how to process what just happened. Then, to your delight, the faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips—a rare and precious expression that feels like a reward in itself. “Why?” she asks simply, her voice soft but curious. It’s not anger or embarrassment, just genuine intrigue.

- You shrug, offering her a cheeky grin. “Because I couldn’t resist,” you reply, watching as her smile grows just a little wider. Cassandra doesn’t say much, but the way she steps closer, her hand brushing yours, says everything. She’s always been more comfortable expressing herself through action, and with you, she doesn’t need words to show her affection. Her trust in you is absolute, her love quiet but deeply felt.

- Later, as you sit together on the floor, her head resting on your shoulder while you read, she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “You surprise me,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. “It’s good.” Cassandra Cain may be the most skilled fighter you’ve ever met, but in your arms, she’s just Cass—a woman who’s learning to embrace the lighter, softer side of life.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke Thomas strides through life with an easy confidence, his optimism shining as brightly as the sunlight he manipulates. He walks past you with a casual swagger, his golden-brown eyes warm and inviting. As he passes by, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself—steady, resilient, and undeniably charming. Acting on a whim, you reach out and smack his rear, the playful gesture a stark contrast to his calm demeanor.

- Duke pauses, his head turning as a look of amused disbelief spreads across his face. “Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow as a slow grin tugs at his lips. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” There’s no annoyance in his tone, just pure, unfiltered amusement. Duke has always been good at rolling with life’s surprises, and this one is no exception. He steps closer to you, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

- You laugh, and the sound makes his grin widen. Duke’s hand rests lightly on your hip as he leans in, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “You know, you’re going to pay for that, right?” he teases, his tone laced with affection. With you, Duke’s natural warmth grows even brighter, his easygoing nature making every moment with him feel effortless and fun. He’s the kind of man who makes you feel like the center of his world without even trying.

- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset from the rooftop, he nudges you gently with his shoulder. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone soft and sincere. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.” Duke Thomas is a beacon of light in a world full of shadows, and with you by his side, his glow only grows stronger.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina Kyle is the embodiment of elegance and mischief, her every move a calculated blend of grace and seduction. She walks past you with the confidence of a queen, her hips swaying in a way that’s almost hypnotic. You can’t resist the temptation she so effortlessly exudes, and before you can think better of it, your hand darts out to smack her rear as she passes by.

- She stops, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip as she turns to face you, a single eyebrow arched. “Oh, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth as silk, “you’re playing a dangerous game.” There’s no anger in her tone, only amusement, her green eyes gleaming with a predatory kind of delight. Selina loves a good challenge, and you’ve just given her the perfect excuse to turn the tables.

- She closes the distance between you in a few fluid steps, her fingers trailing lightly along your jaw as she tilts your face up to meet her gaze. “Careful,” she whispers, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I might just decide to return the favor.” Selina Kyle is a master of control, but with you, she’s willing to let go of the reins—just a little. She loves the way you keep her on her toes, the way you’re unafraid to meet her at her level.

- Later, as the two of you lounge on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below, she leans against you, her head resting on your shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. Selina Kyle may be the infamous Catwoman, a thief who’s always one step ahead, but with you, she’s just Selina—a woman who’s found someone who can keep up with her.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate Kane walks with the authority of someone who’s seen it all and refuses to back down. Her stride is purposeful, her crimson hair a striking contrast against the stark black of her attire. As she passes by, her no-nonsense demeanor is enough to make most people think twice about approaching her. But not you. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack her rear, the sound sharp and deliberate.

- She stops in her tracks, her head turning slowly as she fixes you with a piercing gaze. “Really?” she asks, her tone dry but laced with amusement. “That’s how you want to play this?” There’s no real annoyance in her voice, just a hint of disbelief mixed with a begrudging smile. Kate Kane doesn’t do surprises often, but you’ve managed to catch her off guard in the best way possible.

- She steps closer, her arms crossed as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she says, her voice low and teasing. But there’s a warmth in her eyes, a softness she reserves only for you. Kate may be tough as nails, but with you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let down the walls she’s spent years building.

- Later, as the two of you sit by the fire with glasses of whiskey in hand, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, though there’s no mistaking the affection in her voice. Kate Kane may be Batwoman, a hero who stands alone in the darkest of nights, but with you, she’s just Kate—a woman who’s found a love worth fighting for.

[dickgraysonsbitch]

shopping with the batboys ( + bruce )

to my pineapple pizza haters: know you are valid

warnings: none | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open!

With DICK GRAYSON, the most mundane of shopping trips turns into an expedition—leaving your heart rushing and blood pounding. He shoots you a flirty wink before steadying the grip on his shopping cart. “Ready, sweetheart? Because I don’t think you are. I’ve got the bread isle memorized like the back of my—”

“Go!” You exclaim, snorting when you see the shocked expression on his face, like he wasn’t expecting you to cheat to try to beat him. Hey, he was a super-fit vigilante, how else were you going to get a head start against Nightwing? Pushing off of a rack of magazines, you let out a shout of victory as you grab the milk from the fridge. One down, two to go. You quickly place the eggs into your cart, but not before you make eye contact with your menace of a boyfriend, who smirks at you before grabbing the last bag of whole wheat bread. Damn, he really did have the bread isle memorized like the back of his hand, didn’t he?

He bats his eyelashes at you innocently, but not before flashing you a crooked grin. “I think that’s three, sweetheart. 3-2, if you know what I mean, so…” he smiles, but there’s a glint of mirth in his eyes that absolutely melts your heart.

“I’m still calling a foul. It’s your walk-in pantry, and there’s no way that you didn’t have an advantage over me.” You huff, crossing your arms, trying to replicate the cute-but-hurt puppy dog eyes that Dick seemed to have mastered.

He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Sorry, but a deal’s a deal. I mean, I guess you could go back on it, but…” he looks up at you, with those eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts, and probably a physical ice statue as well.

“Fine,” you grumble. “We can have pineapple on your stupid pizza. Do you want cereal for dessert?” The last question is supposed to be sarcastic, but the light in his eyes shifts from mischievous to downright carnal.

“Actually, I was thinking of having something else for dessert.”

Oh, boy.

You always knew that JASON TODD was going to spoil you rotten, and that was before you found out that he could cook. It wasn’t fair, actually, that he was probably the most gorgeous, intelligent, and caring person that you knew, all while being kick-ass and super talented at… basically everything. To some, God gave in abundance. Sighing dramatically, you propped yourself on his shoulder and leaned against him with your elbows.

His eyes twinkled at your new position. “What’s wrong, princess? Tacos not your scene anymore?” He was lying, obviously, because you demolished tacos like they were your last meal and you were on death row, but you still huffed and buried your face in his bicep.

“Jus’ thinking ‘bout how fuckin’ perfect you are, Jay,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the muscle that somehow managed to stay defined under a leather jacket. “You’re really awesome, you know that? I’ve never met someone as amazing as you. They should put a picture of you up at the Met—‘cause you’re a work of art, baby.”

It’s obvious that he’s holding back laughter, from the way that his broad shoulders are shaking, but something inspires him to keep entertaining this though. Probably your endless supply of charm. “Yeah, babe? I knew you wanted me just for my pretty face.” It’s interesting, honestly, how his relationship with you made him more comfortable with… all parts of himself.

You slap his chest, (not that it does anything), a s pout, your brows furrowed. “You’re not funny.” He send you a soft smile, something that should be uncharacteristic for a man of his size, but it works on you, like it usually does.

He presses his lips together before hoisting you up onto an empty display, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and out of your face. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m pretty.” Within a minute of staring at your unamused face, he’s howling in laughter, snickering to himself like he’s the comedian of the year.

And without a moment of warning, you’re sealing his lips with a kiss, sending a tingle all the way to the tips of your fingers, and he’s parting his lips to deepen it even further. His hands palm just above your ass, and you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, softly running your thumb over his rough cheek, and it feels like paradise until—

“Hey! I thought this was a roommates only grocery trip?”

You and Jason both roll your eyes at the voice, and with varying levels of intensity, reply in unison.

“Shut up, Roy!”

Nothing made you shiver like the husky, low voice of BRUCE WAYNE whispering in your ear from behind you. It was an action that sent your poor heart into overdrive, but here, in this shop that was clearly out of your tax bracket (they had mannequins for diamond embellished puppy collars, for God’s sake) it was as if he was doing it just to show that you were at his mercy.

Not a bad place to be, if you thought about it.

“Try on the dress,” his voice is baritone, and he isn’t using his usual, suave business tone. No, this is the voice he uses when he wants something, and when he’s sure that he’s going to get it. It was like a spell was cast on you, and all you wanted to do was exactly what he said. You weren’t sure you really needed a spell for that anyway.

But still, you hesitated. The dress in question was an Oscar de la Renta mermaid cut gown, in pitch black, no doubt matching Bruce’s own personal aesthetic. The only hesitation? The price. You balked instantly when you glanced at the bill for the first time. Shit, you knew that a custom made dress that didn’t even have a tag on it would be more than your yearly rent. “It’s… 15,000 dollars! Bruce, I can’t accept this.”

He frowned, making you notice the soft wrinkles starting to appear on his face. God, that man took way too much stress for his own good. You’d tried warning against it, but when did he ever listen to anyone but himself (and Alfred)?

“Pocket change, darling. And it’s your first gala, I don’t want you to be wearing something you’ve worn before.” He lightly rubs his fingers against your waist, a promise of something else to come once you accept.

“It’s…” you look down. “It’s a lot. Are you sure?”

“Never been surer. Now, why don’t you look at matching jewelry?”

[lyonnerileyauthor]

the minotaur, the orc and the werewolf

you went to the punk show by yourself because your favorite band was playing, but none of your friends could go. you know you look out of place, but you couldn't care less what others think of you.

you dance alone, enjoying the pounding music as it washes over you. but soon you're dwarfed by a tall shadow: a minotaur with broad horns, dressed in a ripped jean jacket and leather pants. he joins you in your one-person mosh pit, and you dance together, or as "together" as you can while you're both going wild.

soon, the two of you are joined by a third—an orc in heavy black boots, with gold rings on his ears and tusks. his leather jacket does nothing to hide his bulk. he slams into you, making you giggle as you collide with the minotaur.

they pass you between them, their hands touching more and more of you as one song blends into the next. but the three of you haven't gone unnoticed. a werewolf watches from a few yards away, a thick spiked collar around his neck.

you wave him over. there's plenty of room in the pit, after all. with a fanged grin, he throws himself into the mix, nearly knocking you over—but the minotaur catches you. he doesn't let you go as he rubs his crotch against your ass, and you can feel his thick bull cock through your clothes.

it's not long before the orc is in front of you, running his big fingers down your body. the music throbs faster and faster, drawing them both in closer, pushing your bodies tighter together. but the werewolf lingers, unsure where he belongs now.

the orc grabs him by the arm and brings him into the fold. now you're surrounded, three monsters with their hands all over you, their breathing growing faster and heavier. they don't hide how much they want this one little human in their midst. you barely notice when the show ends.

come home with me, the minotaur whispers in your ear, and I'll show you a good time.

no, you should choose me, the orc says, pulling you away. the werewolf shyly steps back, unwilling to make his own case.

but you have a third proposal: that all four of you go back to your apartment together. the werewolf's eyes light up at the suggestion of including him.

with a huff, the minotaur agrees. the orc smirks, immensely pleased with your decision, and all four of you leave together.

pt 2

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Better late than never

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, May 2025 edition Prompt: Delay, 408 words Rated: G Tags: Future fic; Reunions; Forced proximity; Secret identity; Second chances Notes: I spent more time picking Eddie's new name than actually writing this, whelp 🫠

Steve never thought that his infamous shoulder check would come in handy in the New York metro of all places. But this is the first train to roll into the station after an hour of tinny speaker announcements about technical issues and delays, and he's not waiting for the next one. He manages to get himself right in front of a door, smug satisfaction flooding him as it opens before him. Then, the crowd behind him starts pushing, and his grin turns into a startled yelp. 

He stumbles into the crammed cart, trips over his own feet, and is only saved from a rendevous with the sticky floor by clinging to the first person in his way. His face is squashed against a worn leather jacket and his breath wheezes out of him with a plainly undignified oomph sound. An arm wraps around his waist to steady him.

“Whoops,” says a voice somewhere by his ear, sending a shock of vibrations down his spine. Or maybe that's the train rumbling into motion. “Gotcha, big boy.” 

Steve freezes.

When he manages to lift his head, the eyes looking back at him are as wide and shocked as his own. Wide and shocked and dark brown and hauntingly familiar. 

“Ed-” he blurts. Bites down on his own tongue.

Eddie Munson is dead. Has been for twelve years. He died on March 27th 1986, in the earthquake that destroyed half of Hawkins.

It was for the best, the FBI told them, if this was the story they all stuck to. It was for the best if nobody knew where they had taken him. 

And now he's here, in a crowded subway cart that smells of sweat and beer and vomit, with a ratty guitar case slung over his shoulder and one arm around Steve’s waist. His lips tug up into a dimpled smile. 

“Jake.” 

Steve blinks. “Huh?” 

The man throws back his head and barks a laugh, dark curls spilling all around his face. 

“My name. Jake Vaughan, pleased to meet you. Do I remind you of someone?” 

He winks. Steve feels himself blush. 

“Uh- … yeah. You could say that. Someone I wish I’d have known a lot better.” 

The man who used to be Eddie smiles and leans close to his ear, just as the train pulls into the next station. 

“Let's grab a coffee? I know a great spot nearby, and I’d love to hear all about it.” 

More microfics

[kurokawaia]

RIGHT HERE 彡 Izana Kurokawa

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! 18+ | TW/CW :: tenjiku! izana, x fem! reader, afab, reader is wearing a skirt, club setting, alcohol, suggestive, izana is quite handsy, pet names 'mahal' 'princess' 'baby', voyeurism?? hickies, readers first time in receiving a hickey, reader is timid and shy, possessiveness mention + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: it's your first time relationship with Izana, you know that he's relatively experienced, and he knows that you are not. Despite Izana being quite the dominant person, he's taking it slow with you. However, you should've kept your mouth shut and waited until the two of you were home.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list

You've been here for a couple hours and Izana hasn't pressured you to do a single thing in the club. He knows that it's a dangerous place to be in when you're a woman, and being as sweet and pretty as you, he is not going to leave your side.

Izana doesn't mind staying seated with you on the red velvet longue because your all tucked up against him, his arm over your shoulder while he holds a glass of whiskey on the other. It's not hot or stuffy in here, in fact, it's quite chilly due to the air-con blasting on full, so Izana as donned his leather jacket around your shoulders.

The other members of Tenjiku where everywhere, on the dance floor, directly at the bar or flirting with the waitresses. The only people who weren't, were you and Izana who were watching from the VIP floor upstairs, along with Kakucho who was sitting on the couch horizontal from us to the side.

Kakucho wasn't really paying attention, he was quite engrossed on his phone. You wondered how he even got into the club, due to how he was fourteen going on fifteen, but Izana is quite influential and he follows Izana around everywhere.

However, you weren't paying attention to anything apart from Izana and the sensual music being blasted through the speakers. Your right leg was placed over Izana's left while his arm tightens around your shoulder and you sigh in contentment.

You know that Izana is possessive of you and his actions show that, he makes sure everybody knows who you belong to, so you'll always be safe. Although, there's been a thought running through your head the entire night, you'll nibble on your glosses bottom lip while fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.

Of course, Izana noticed the moment you started doing it, but he didn't want to pry you too much, simply just engaging in normal conversation with you. But, now? he really wants to know, you've been like this for hours and it's really riling him up.

He's motived how your cheeks flushed whenever you looked up directly up at him while speaking and he knows you have something you want to say, something dirty.

"What's with you, mahal? You've been acting strange all night," Izana hums after drinking the last of the whiskey in the crystal glass before he places it down on the table, his head moving to face yours.

You shake your head quickly, placing a hand on his exposed chest as your curl over into him and you instantly regret doing that because his toned upper body looks really good. Especially in a button down black shirt which was buttoned down quite a bit.

"It’s nothing! I’m fine," you protest with a gentle smile.

Izana lets a smirk cross his lips as his hand squeezes your waist every now and then, his purple iris' glint in satisfaction when he sees you beginning to unravel. "You're a terrible liar, mahal. Spill it."

You take a deep breath while gazing down, looking away from him. "It’s just... there’s something I want to ask, but it’s kind of... embarrassing."

"Oh? Embarrassing?" he teases, lips grazing just below your ear and your heart begins to pound in your chest. "You've really got me curious now."

"It’s not a big deal or anything! I just thought... maybe you could—" you stop mid-sentence, you bury your face into the side of his chest. "Never mind, it’s stupid."

Izana leans back into the soft velvet, and he cups your chin, amusement is evident on his face, specifically his lips, he is enjoying this. "Don't do that, baby. Tell me. Whatever it is, I promise I won't laugh."

But the way he said he wouldn't laugh made you believe otherwise. "I was wondering if... if you could... give me a hickey."

Izana blinks in shock for a few moments, you've never been this forward with him, it's always Izana guessing what you want and 10 times out of 10 he is correct. However, this was a shock to him.

"A hickey, huh?" he replies, his voice low as he whispers sensually in your ear. "So... that's what's been going through that pretty head of yours."

"I just thought it might be... I mean, I trust you, and... I’ve never had one before," you stumble over your words, trying to keep your composure but the way you are pressed so tightly against him and how hot is breath is to your skin... "But if you think it’s dumb, I—"

Izana cuts you off with a soft chuckle, his hand tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. "You think I’d let you ask me something like that and call it dumb?" his voice still in that teasing tone. "If you want one, mahal, I’ll make sure you never forget it."

"R-Right here?" you ask in disbelief. "Maybe we should wait until we get-"

You cut yourself off when you see the look in Izana's eyes, primal and need. It makes sense, this will be the most he has ever done with you and he's going feral, he's going to mark you up, everyone will know who you belong to and that you're taken.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth while butterflies stir in your tummy and lower abdomen. He's sitting there studying every square inch of your body, purple eyes gazing over your neck, your flushed cheeks.

Izana's fingers lightly trace your jawline, sending shivers throughout your body. This did nothing to quench the arousal you felt pooling in your underwear.

"You're so nervous, mahal," he coos in a low voice, his thumb playing with your bottom lip. "You asked for this, didn't you?"

You nod, your breath hitching as he leans closer, his warm breath fanning against your neck. He chuckles softly, and the sound is smooth.

Izana's lips touch your below your ear trailing to the dip of your neck before slowly trailing back up and you knew he could feel your heart pounding beneath your flesh. And he could, he was resisting the urge to take you right there and then on the couch, but he couldn't, he's promised himself to take it slow, just for you.

"Relax," he hums. "I'll take care of you, mahal."

He presses his lips against the side of your neck, soft at first, leaving a trail of kisses as he searches for the perfect spot. When he finds it��you whimper—just below your ear—he smirks against your skin before pressing harder, his lips tugging gently as his teeth graze the surface.

The sensation makes you gasp, you breath so heavily in his ear, whimpers mingling in, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Izana’s grin widens, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That’s it. Just stay still for me, mahal."

He works slowly, almost lazily, his lips and tongue leaving warmth and a faint ache that makes your head spin. He pulls back briefly, his eyes flicking to the mark before he leans in kissing your neck around the red mark gently while squeezing your thigh.

Your cheeks are flushed red and your heart continues to beat fast, not slowing down. Izana cups your jaw, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze.

"Perfect. Now you have something to show off that your mine" he murmurs before his eyes flutter shut and place a kiss to your lips, pulling away he smirks gently.

You can’t meet his gaze, your face burning, and he chuckles, pulling you closer so you’re tucked against his chest.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?" Izana chuckles. A few moments pass before he begins to stroke your hair down and he leans his head down to your ear. "But don’t get shy now, mahal. I’m not done with you yet. I'm thinking about all the things I'm going to say to you, what I'm going to do to you when we get home."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list

that last sentence was a chase atlantic reference to their song triggered, if any of you cared to know...

[chlorinecake]

I was thinking about illegalracer!jungwon as your bf. He takes you for late night rides on his motorcycle that finish with him fucking u on his place, it's like a normal routine now...

Imagine Illegal Racer Jungwon…

Who had a frisky side since the day you met him, living for the thrill of the night and earning himself a name of admiration and infamy on the streets as an underground racer…

Illegal racer Jungwon who turned every road into his personal racetrack, drowning out his thoughts with the roaring pulse of his motorbike engine.

Illegal racer Jungwon who never expected you to become a part of this side of his world, but enjoyed having you around regardless… internally smirking at the startled look on your face whenever his wheels took off in a race, or the labored breaths you’d let out once he returned to greet you with a victory kiss in front of every one watching.

Illegal racer Jungwon who made you sit on the back of his bike one day, inviting you to fully understand his love for the wild life, and you’ve been hooked ever since.

“If you hang on tight enough, I might reward you with something once we get to my place,” he’d say, revving the engine but refusing to take off until your arms were wrapped securely around his waist, nearby neon lights blurring into both your peripheral visions as the smoky wind whipped through your exposed hair.

Illegal Racer Jungwon whose eyes sparkled like onyx as these late night joy rides became a part of your normal routine, adoring how you learned to trust him when he’d speed down narrow alleyways, or come a mere centimeter from colliding into destruction.

You two had even been chased by the police before, but Jungwon always had a way of outrunning them, especially when he had a certain goal in mind to get you alone with him for the night…

Illegal racer Jungwon who with every harsh drift, loved it when you held onto him tighter, stealing kisses at red lights as silver rain painted the streets and your dewy leather jackets.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would park his motorbike under a tree, helping you take your helmet off with his protective hand at your hips, finger playfully linking in the hoops of your jeans as he buried his face in your neck, kissing you desperately in between whispering how badly he had missed you…

Illegal racer Jungwon who usually left the back door to your little secret place unlocked, mostly because it was reserved for one thing and one thing only.

Illegal racer Jungwon who always looked especially attractive in his damp biker suit, watching with lust-ridden eyes as you stripped him of his leather layers to grant you better access to his broad shoulders.

“Love it when I take you out just so I can fuck you, huh?,” he teased, almost cooing at the way you rushed to take off his belt.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose sultry voice tantalized your ears whenever he spoke dirty to you, taking your face in his free hand to force your glossy eyes back on him.

“That’s my good girl- shit… keep fucking yourself on my cock,” he’d grunt in between having you bounce in his lap, sounds of skin against skin filling the room, “does it feel good, baby?… hmm?”

“Feels s-so good, Wonie,” you hummed with a broken moan, throwing your head back as he continued guiding your hips, “gonna come… f-fuck- gonna come so hard for you, baby…”

Illegal racer Jungwon who let his eyes roll in the back of his head every time you clenched around him, his pouty mouth leaning forward to suck, bite, and lick on your skin anywhere he could.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would always finish on your stomach because he never remembered to bring a condom, once again, enjoying the subtle risk of potentially forgetting to pull out of you.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose soft “I love you’s” after a reckless night never failed to make your heart flutter, taking a short cut to bring you back home even if it was past two in the morning.

Illegal racer Jungwon who liked kissing you goodnight at your doorstep on nights like this, his hand playfully smacking your ass as he whispered in the cool air, “You better call me first thing in the morning, alright?”

Illegal racer Jungwon who chuckled to himself whenever you waved at him like he wasn’t the guy you fucked every night, driving off into the distance with his final thoughts being your pretty face, a flushed red hue from the love he made to you...

took me forever and a day to answer this ask (my sincerest apologies, anon), but hopefully you get to read it sometime soon !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr + the link to my masterlist ~

[yoonmoonn]

before songs sound like him┃jjk

teaser┃show stopper ┃masterlist ┃taglist

You sigh, pushing your sunglasses higher up the bridge of your nose as you fight the very real, very dramatic urge to throw your phone across the cafe.

Your manager was pissing you off—again. The coffee you ordered ten minutes ago was nowhere to be seen. And your best friend had just texted that she was back with the guy who shattered her like glass two months ago. Genius.

You fix your bag on your shoulder, silently praying that your already crumpled lyric sheets weren't turning into an origami disaster inside it. The strap digs into your skin through your leather jacket, but you barely notice it with the buzz of irritation swirling around you like a second skin.

Leaning your back against the cool brick wall by the pick-up counter, you take a deep breath through your nose, jaw tight. This day was not it.

That’s when you hear it. A sharp, under-the-breath curse.

You look up, sunglasses still perched perfectly on your face, and spot the source of the frustration. He’s tall. Broad shoulders, tattoos inked along his knuckles and probably up his arm. White jacket draped lazily over a fitted black tee, black sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair is messy in that intentional kind of way, and he’s glaring at his watch like it personally offended him.

You blink once. Twice.

Of course he’d look like that. Like every moody boy in a music video. Like someone you’d write lyrics about at 2 a.m. when your piano keys felt too cold.

He catches you staring.

And he smirks.

You roll your eyes and look away first. He takes that as an invitation.

He moves closer, now standing a foot away from you, arms crossed over his chest. “Bad day?” he asks, voice low, kind of raspy.

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Let’s see—manager from hell, coffee that doesn’t exist, and my best friend’s repeating her worst mistake like it’s a playlist. So yeah, not great.”

He chuckles, a low rumble. “Rough.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “You don’t look like you’re having the time of your life either.”

He nods, looking back at his phone. “Might be late to a client. Again.” Then he looks at you, really looks at you. “Singer, right?”

You raise a brow.

“Your face is on a poster a few blocks away,” he explains, not missing a beat. “Caught my eye this morning.”

“You a fan?” you tease.

He smirks again. “Not yet.”

There’s a silence after that, not awkward—comfortable, like the kind you don’t expect to have with someone whose name you don’t even know.

Your name gets called for your coffee at the same time his does.

You both step up to grab your cups, hands brushing briefly. You feel it—electric and fleeting.

He hands you yours, a brow raised. “You look like you’re two seconds away from writing a diss track.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, a smug smile playing on your lips.

He pulls a pen from behind his ear—how it got there, you have no idea—and scribbles something on your napkin before handing it back. “If you ever need a muse... or a tattoo.”

You glance down. It’s a phone number. Followed by a name.

Jeon Jungkook.

You smirk, folding the napkin carefully and tucking it into your jacket pocket like it wasn’t the most interesting part of your day.

Maybe the coffee was worth the wait after all.

Two weeks pass.

You’re on a worn couch in the corner of a small, dimly lit studio that smells faintly of ink and citrus cleaning spray. The buzzing of a tattoo needle hums low in the background, like a bassline under a conversation that hasn’t quite started yet.

Your knees are tucked to your chest, cup of cold coffee balanced between your palms. Jungkook is crouched near his station, gloves on, head bowed in concentration as he wraps someone’s forearm—focused, silent, and annoyingly good-looking even in the low light.

You’re not even sure how it got to this point.

One text turned into two. Two into voice notes. Voice notes into late night calls and—somehow—this.

You’d dropped by just to “see the place.” You stayed. Twice. Maybe three times.

“Done,” he says now, pulling off his gloves and flashing a quick smile to the guy in the chair, who nods in appreciation. “Give it a few days, and no swimming.”

The guy leaves with a grin and a half-hearted wave in your direction. Jungkook turns, stretching his arms up before tossing his gloves in the bin. He looks at you, eyes soft but teasing. “Still babysitting your coffee?”

You look down at the cup, then back at him. “It’s a personality trait now.”

He laughs, walking toward you and flopping down next to you like he’s lived here his entire life—like you have.

“You been writing?” he asks, nudging your leg with his knee.

You nod. “Some verses. Stuff I probably won’t ever record.”

“Lemme hear them anyway.”

You blink at him, a little caught off guard.

He always does this—asks for things like he has the right to. Like the lyrics you scribble at 3 a.m. on the backs of receipts and napkins belong to him too.

You pull your phone out, scrolling until you find the note you’re thinking of. You pass it to him.

He reads in silence, his jaw tight, brows drawn just slightly.

Then: “Is this about me?”

You shrug, sipping your now ice-cold coffee. “Isn’t everything?”

He huffs a laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve got a way of twisting the knife while sounding sweet about it.”

“You like it.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he leans in, his fingers brushing your wrist, still holding your phone. “You know, you’re dangerous.”

You raise a brow. “You’ve got tattoos of skulls and saints all over your arm and I’m the dangerous one?”

He shrugs, smile lazy and crooked. “You get under my skin without even trying.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.

Because you’re here. Sitting in a tattoo shop at 11 p.m. with a boy you were never supposed to call, sipping cold coffee and letting him look at parts of you no one else sees.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

You turn.

He leans closer, eyes flicking from yours to your lips and back again. “Let me tattoo you.”

You smirk. “You think you earned that privilege?”

He doesn’t back off. “I think I’m trying.”

Your phone buzzes on the cushion between you both.

Your manager. Again.

You flip it over without checking.

Jungkook’s watching you now. Really watching. “Stay a little longer,” he says.

And you do.

Of course you do.

4 months pass.

The air in the green room feels too still, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to break. Your body is buzzing from the stage lights and the crowd still chanting your name outside. But the post-show high is dulled now, tension tightening around your ribs instead of excitement.

He’s already there when you walk in—sitting in the corner, arms spread across the back of the couch like he owns it. Like he owns you. Black hoodie pushed back, a silver ring glinting on his thumb as he taps his phone screen without looking up.

Jungkook.

You drop your bag by the vanity, the rustle of lyric sheets inside it catching his attention. He looks up then, and you swear his gaze drags down your body like a slow exhale. You don’t acknowledge it. You’re too tired, too done.

“Didn’t know you were coming tonight,” you mutter, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

He shrugs, leaning back again. “Didn’t think I needed a formal invite.”

You shoot him a look. “You don’t.”

He smiles like he knows that already, like he’s smug about it. And he should be. Because you do always let him in—backstage, into your bed, into the spaces between everything you tell yourself not to feel.

It didn’t start out messy. You hooked up one night after a party, laughing too loud and kissing even louder. He made fun of your glitter heels, and you pulled him in by the collar and dared him to say it again.

That was months ago.

Now? Now it’s something. Something without a name. And you like it that way. At least, that’s what you’ve always said.

So when the fights started—over nothing, over everything—you didn’t back down. Neither did he.

“I saw you leave early last night,” you say, breaking the silence again.

He raises an eyebrow. “Were you looking for me?”

“I just noticed. That’s all.”

“Right.”

You roll your eyes, twisting the cap off your bottle too fast, water sloshing over your hand. “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“The weird passive-aggressive thing.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “You mean the thing where we pretend this doesn’t mean something?"

You don’t answer right away.

Because yeah, that’s exactly what you mean.

You’ve both said it, more than once: no labels, no pressure, just… whatever this is. But then he’s showing up to your shows, you’re answering his 2am calls, and both of you are starting to act like there’s something here neither of you signed up for.

He stands slowly, coming toward you like a warning. He smells like peppermint gum and cigarette smoke, tattoos peeking from under his sleeve. He looks good. He always looks good. That’s the damn problem.

“You don’t want a relationship,” he says, voice low.

You meet his eyes. “Neither do you.”

He nods, like he’s agreeing, but his jaw tightens. “Then why the hell do we keep acting like we’re in one?”

Your throat tightens. You hate that he’s saying what you’ve been trying not to think.

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed. “Because it’s easier than admitting we don’t actually know what the fuck we’re doing.”

He’s close now. Too close.

“You keep saying you don’t want this to be anything serious,” he murmurs, “but you look at me like I already belong to you.”

Your jaw clenches. “You still texting your ex?”

The words slip out before you can stop them.

He freezes. Something in his face darkens.

“She texted me first.”

“Did you text her back?”

Silence.

Then: “Yeah.”

Of course he did.

You push past him, brushing his shoulder harder than you need to, walking back toward your bag. You feel his eyes on you, feel the heat of something unsaid swelling between you.

“I’m not the only one trying to fill in the space,” he says behind you.

You turn. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You write songs about me and act like they’re just lyrics. You call me when you’re drunk and tell me you miss me but wake up pretending it didn’t happen. You say you don’t want a label, but get pissed when I so much as breathe near someone else.”

You look at him, arms wrapped around yourself like it might hold everything together.

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” you say, voice quieter now. “I want you. But not if it means playing house with someone still in love with his past.”

He flinches at that—just slightly—but it’s enough.

Neither of you says anything for a beat.

Then he grabs his keys from the side table, his jaw set like he’s about to say something else. But he doesn’t.

Just walks out the door and closes it behind him.

And still… you know he’ll be back.

Both of you always go back.

And that might just be the problem.

please don't claim or copy any of my work !!

taglist: @kam9404 @kissyfacekoo (you can add yourself to the taglist from the top of the post or the navi)

[voodoo-tofu]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

[pretzel-box]

if you are still taking requests could you do the opposite spin off where we the experiment like Sebastian of having a shop as for Sebastian being a prisoner who enters the reader shop?

Payment recieved

Words: 1k

Tags: Reversed roles, inhuman reader, human!sebastian, slight fluff, sebastian is still grumpy

authors note: Wrote it on my phone! This was actually requested by two people so I finished it now.

"How much?" Sebastian glanced up at you, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. Your eyes followed his gaze, realizing he was referring to the jacket you were wearing. It was a brown leather jacket lined with cozy alpaca fur, keeping you warm ever since your body had stopped producing its own heat. The jacket wasn’t particularly important, but you enjoyed the comfort it provided.

You had known Sebastian for a while; he always wore a grumpy expression and often greeted you with sarcasm when he entered your shop. "How much?" he repeated, this time with a hint of impatience.

You blinked, scratching behind your ear fins with a free hand, and smirked. "600 and a smile."

Sebastian hesitated, his brows furrowing as he processed your words. He was used to bartering, haggling, and the occasional hostile negotiation with you, but this was different. A smile? That was new.

“600 and a smile?” he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. His usual grumpy demeanor was momentarily replaced by confusion, as if trying to gauge whether you were joking or just odd. He looked at you closely, taking in your strange, inhuman features—the ear fins, the scaled texture of your skin, and the way your eyes seemed to shimmer in the dim light of the shop. Despite your otherworldly appearance, there was something oddly comforting about you, something that made him relax just a little in your presence.

You nodded, your smile widening just a bit. “That’s right. A fair trade, don’t you think?” Your voice was light, almost playful, as if challenging him to go along with your terms. You tilted your head, the movement causing the fins on the sides of your head to twitch slightly.

Sebastian frowned, glancing down at the jacket again. It wasn’t just that he needed it—the halls of this facility were unforgiving, and his own clothes were worn thin from constant wear. It was more than that, though. This jacket seemed different, not just because of its quality, but because it was yours. He knew you valued it, even if you pretended otherwise.

But a smile? It was a strange request, one that felt more personal than the usual business interactions he was accustomed to. Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his cheerful disposition, and smiling wasn’t something that came naturally to him. He was a man of few words and fewer expressions, and the idea of smiling just to get a jacket felt… uncomfortable.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” His tone was less accusatory and more resigned, as if he knew he was about to lose a game he never intended to play.

You simply shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, your eyes never leaving his. “Completely serious. You want the jacket, right? Well, I want to see that grumpy face of yours break into a smile. It’s not every day I get to see something so rare.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you, but there was no real malice in his gaze. It was a challenge, one that poked at the walls he’d built around himself. He could just walk away, keep his pride intact, and find another way to stay warm. But something in your relaxed, confident demeanor made him hesitate.

Finally, he let out a low grunt, something halfway between annoyance and reluctant acceptance. “Fine. If it means getting this jacket, then fine.” He looked down, taking a deep breath as if preparing himself for an ordeal.

Then,slowly and awkwardly, he tried to smile, hoping it was enough.

It wasn’t much—more of a twitch at the corners of his mouth than an actual smile, and his eyes remained as stoic as ever. But there was an effort, a hint of something softer beneath the layers of his usual gruffness. It was brief, almost too brief to notice, but it was there.

You watched him with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, your own smile widening in response. You would never say it but his smile made your heart skip a beat. “Not bad, Sebastian. Not bad at all.”

Sebastian’s face quickly returned to its usual neutral expression, though a faint flush colored his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me the jacket.” He stretched out his hand, wanting you to hurry up already.

You chuckled softly, unzipping the jacket and sliding it off your shoulders. The cold immediately hit your skin, but you barely noticed, more focused on the small victory you’d just won. You handed the jacket to him, your hand brushing against his as he took it.

“Take care of it,” you said lightly, but there was a sincerity in your tone that made Sebastian pause. “It’s seen a lot, that jacket. It deserves someone who’ll appreciate it.” It was one of your last personal items you owned.

Sebastian nodded, slipping the jacket on. It fit him well, and the warmth was immediate, enveloping him in a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked at you, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t used to kindness, especially not in a place like this, and the way you treated him—like an old friend rather than just another customer—left him feeling off balance.

“Thanks,” he muttered, pulling the collar up to shield his neck from the chill.

“Anytime,” you replied, your smile still lingering as you watched him turn to leave. “And don’t be a stranger, Sebastian. My shop’s always open.”

As he walked out into the dimly lit corridor, the warmth of the jacket spreading through his body, Sebastian found himself thinking about that brief, awkward smile. In the end it was more than worth it because he was warm and he knew basked in the slight confort that it gave him. The smell of your scent going up his nose, making him feel grateful for your presence. With that, he crawled through the vent with your image in his mind.

“YOU FORGOT THE KEYCARD, SUNSHINE!”

[chimckenns]

Sam never planned to live forever.

The moment his Darlin’ passed, he knew it was his turn too. There was no reason for him to continue living if the love of his life wasn’t there with him, and he’d been here way longer than he had planned to initially.

Vincent and Lovely are still together, and Sam can feel the love radiating off them every time they hang out. It makes him happy to see them happy, but it makes his empty heart ache to see them free to love with time and the afterlife on their side.

David and the pack have long passed, leaving the new generation to take over. The security business is doing better than ever, although it’s missing that unique spark that David had when he led the company. Sam watched over them as they grew, and was there to guide them when needed. He knew David would be looking down with pride, seeing how far the pack had come.

But now, Sam is satisfied. There’s nothing left for him to do. His heart still yearns for his Darlin’.

On their anniversary, he walked out and sat under the tree he helped them heal that one time, leaning his back against it. Ever since they passed, he’d talk to the tree everyday and touch his forehead against its sturdy trunk, eyes closed and feeling the small remnants of their magic. With Darlin’s leather jacket on his shoulders, he sat and watched as the warmth of the sun washed over his body for the first time in decades. It was so beautiful - the myriad of reds and oranges that lit the sky left him breathless with wonder. It felt like… Darlin’. The way they’d always be there for him with their arms open.

He let the sun guide him to his end.

A part of Sam always wondered what death would feel like. He knew he was going to die, so it was frequently on his mind. He didn’t feel any fear though. It was more of a curiosity.

He kept his eyes closed. It was still warm, like he could still feel the sun on his skin. His body felt like it was being wrapped in loving arms, with the gentle wind blowing his hair.

It felt comfortable. It felt like… home.

It felt like Darlin’.

He leaned his body weight further into the tree.

But it was… soft. It felt like… a person.

He felt his heart beat again. Not the pseudo rhythm that his core mimicked when he turned, but the steady thump of his heart carrying blood around his body.

There was a weight that tightened around his waist and on his right shoulder, followed by the sound of soft breathing that tickled his neck.

…it can’t be.

Sam kept his eyes closed, scared that once he opened them, the feeling would disappear. His hand twitched, hesitating before reaching down and touching what was wrapped around his waist.

“You kept me waiting.” A voice whispered in his ear, laced with a teasing smile.

His eyes shot open. This all felt so real. Too real. He whipped his head back, eyes wide and heart beating faster.

The tree was no longer there, but in its place was a human.

His Darlin’.

Sam froze in shock for a few moments. Then he reached a shaking hand towards their face. Darlin’ met his halfway and held his hand, guiding it to rest on their cheek. They nuzzled into his palm, the way they always did as a human and also as a wolf. He could feel them. They were real.

He all but crashed into them, pushing them onto the grass in a hug and cried into their shoulder. They kept their arms around him, and he heard them sniffle too.

He never felt more alive.

[tyuns-world]

Pairing: fem! Reader x Rockstar! Huening kai

Warnings: slightly smutty more like teasing

Summary: A routine makeup job turns into a hard game of don’t fuck your client when Kai sets his sights on you.

The first time you saw Huening Kai in person, you almost forgot how to breathe.

He was the kind of man who commanded attention effortlessly. The room bent to his presence, like a stage light drawn to its star. Dark waves of hair curled just past his ears, tousled in a way that made it look like he’d just rolled out of bed. His lips, full and perpetually curved into a devious smirk, moved lazily as he chewed on his gum. He'd been trying to quit cigarettes recently. Said the look was cool, but it ruined his voice.

He was all sharp angles and smooth confidence. The leather jacket slung over his shoulders smelled of peppermint and expensive cologne. He looked like trouble, and you were about to spend the next hour inches away from his face.

Lucky you.

“Gonna keep staring, sweetheart, or are you gonna make me look pretty?” His voice was a lazy drawl, dripping with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach clenched at the nickname. “You already look pretty. I’m just making you camera-ready.”

Kai chuckled, tilting his head back slightly. “Flattery won’t make me behave.”

You scoffed, dabbing at the liner brush before stepping closer. “Good thing I don’t need you to behave.”

His gaze burned into yours as you leaned in, his breath warm and laced with spearmint. Up close, he was even more dangerous. He was the kind of man your mother warned you about. But as you traced the sharp edge of his cheekbone with a gentle finger, steadying his face, you knew it was already too late.

“Stay still,” you murmured, brushing the first stroke of black eyeshadow against his lower lash line.

To your surprise, he obeyed, though the smirk remained. “You’re good at this.”

“It’s my job.”

“Yeah, but you’re really good at it.”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way his voice sent shivers down your spine. “I know your game, Kai. Flattery won’t work.”

Kai’s lips twitched. “Oh? What’s my game?”

You rolled your eyes in response.

The tension between you thickened with each passing second. His breath ghosted over your skin, and you could feel the way his body radiated warmth under the dim vanity lights. Your fingers twitched as you swiped the brush along his upper lash line, slow and deliberate.

He exhaled sharply when you finished. "You're awfully close," he muttered, though he did not pull away.

"So move," you challenged.

Kai didn't. Instead, his fingers, cool from the rings he wore, found their way to your waist, tugging you just slightly forward. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t stop him. Didn’t even try. His lips curled as he watched goose bumps grow on your soft dark skin and your eyes darkened, hesitating between pulling away and giving in.

"I don't think I want to." His voice was husky now, more dangerous and alluring.

You should have stopped him when his hands slid up your sides. Should have walked away when his lips brushed against your jaw, featherlight, testing. But you didn't. Instead, you sighed into his touch, letting yourself be drawn into his game.

"We can't," you whispered.

Kai hummed against your skin, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just beneath your ear. "Mhm. Then move."

He repeated your words back to you.

You gave a small chuckle, placing your hands on his shoulders, looking him up and down like you were sizing him up.

Kai watched you closely, his smirk deepening when you didn’t pull away. His grip on your waist tightened just enough to make your pulse quicken. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your breath caught when he leaned in, his nose barely grazing yours. He was giving you the chance to stop this. To step back. But he knew you were already caught in his web.

Instead of answering, you slid your hands from his shoulders to his toned chest, fingers brushing against the cool metal of his necklace. The air between you thickened, his lips hovering just close enough to make you ache. Kai slowly took the gum out of his mouth, discarding it under his chair.

"Kai," you whispered, but you weren’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.

He took it as the latter.

His lips met yours in a slow, unhurried kiss, as if he had all the time in the world to play with you. He tasted, of course, like spearmint and something sweeter, something distinctly him. One of his hands slid up the back of your thighs, lifting your skirt slightly to allow him more access.

You sighed against him, melting into the warmth of his touch, the press of his body against yours. Your hands tightened around his shirt, grabbing a fistful and pulling him impossibly closer.

Kai broke the kiss first, but didn’t go far. His lips lingered just beside yours, his breath warm as he whispered, "You're mine now."

Kai’s lips moved against yours once more, just as slow and deliberate as the first, as if he wanted to make you beg for more. His hand slid up from your thighs to your waist, fingers pressing into your skin, hands oh so close to your ass.

You barely noticed when your back met the edge of the vanity, the cool surface contrasting with the warmth of his body against yours. He stood from his chair, towering over you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a quiet groan that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaves the kiss, trailing down your jaw to the curve of your neck, kissing and nipping just enough to make your head tilt back.

"Kai," you breathed. That was definitely an invitation this time, your eyes fluttering shut as his hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer.

"Do you only know my name now, sweetheart?"

Then, just as he nips at your collarbone and his hand gropes your breast—

A loud knock echoed through the dressing room.

"Kai! You’re needed on set in five!"

You both froze. For a moment, neither of you moved, your breathing heavy in the charged silence. Then, Kai let out a low, frustrated sigh against your skin.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, lightly punching the top of the vanity before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, his expression laced with something that sent another rush of heat through you.

"You should go," you murmured, though you made no effort to move away.

Kai huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. "And leave you like this?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your body still craved his touch. "Your photoshoot, remember?"

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if debating whether to steal another kiss. Instead, he exhaled heavily and took a step back, dragging a hand through his hair.

"This isn’t over," he murmured, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he grabbed his jacket from the chair.

Then he was gone, leaving you aching for more.

[sudsnribbons]

For what it's worth | S.W

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

MDNI

Wordcount: 1,749

Warnings: SMUTT, Established relationship, First I love you, Whiny Sam, Happy trail mention (@laceandlipstick you slut), unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral (m receiving), Pet names, Size kink (Sam is huge and he knows it), fingering, infamous greyhound shirt mention, use of Y/n, softdom!sam, cum eating?, cowgirl, creampie, I think that's it idk

A/N: This is for my bsf, love of my life @laceandlipstick. Furthermore I hope you enjoy!

Being a cashier for a rundown gas station your deadbeat father left you, didn't come with many perks. If any honestly. 

Same fluorescent lights boring onto your skin, day after day. 

That was until you heard the familiar 'ding' of the door. Perched behind the counter, you read over the same lines in your outdated magazine. "$50 on two." The gruff man, in the worn leather jacket, laid down a credit card. "Right..Mr.Hector Fromian." You looked up at the man, not convinced he was who he claimed to be. "Listen sweetheart just run the damn card." Rolling your eyes at his words you go to swipe the card when you hear the bell ding again. A rushed figure navigated through the store, before laying down a water bottle and a pack of gum. "This too please." The taller man muttered out, smiling down at you seeming to be in a rush. 

A quick transaction left you confused as the pair filled up the classic car at the pump, and sped out so fast they left tire marks on your parking lot.

---

That interaction was nearly 8 months ago. Somehow, in a whirlwind of events, it ended in a warrant for not just the two boys, but somehow you had gotten roped in too.

Despite your original meet-cute, you and Sam had been going steady for 5 months now. Being on and off the road you never really had the time to breathe, let alone have any personal time to yourself.

Which is why your ears perked up at the mention of dean heading out to the bar for the night. Your eyes immediately shot Sam a look, as if to say 'Your ass better be staying back'. Luckily he caught the hint. 

Dean left, taking baby with him. "Shit." you looked around the rundown motel room trying to find your bag. "What is it?" Sam asked, you shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I forgot to get my bag out of the car before he left." You ran your hands over your face.

All you wanted was to take a hot shower, but having no clean clothes kinda defeated the purpose. 

"Well sweetheart, I do have clothes you can wear." He reassured you. You nodded, watching him dig through his duffle bag. Pulling out a pair of boxers and a purple t-shirt, adorned with a greyhound. "That one's my favorite." He smiled warmly down at you as you stood up, "I know." he handed you the clothes, and a towel from the table beside his bag.

One steaming-hot enough to scorch your skin shower, you pulled the boxers over your bare legs. Comical almost, how they fit around you. Sliding the t-shirt over your head, pulling the wet strands of hair that had gotten trapped beneath the fabric. Looking into the mirror, the shirt fits you like a dress. Hem sitting on your mid-thigh. 

Opening the bathroom door, steam filling the small motel room. Looking over to Sam, with his face buried in that damn journal. 

Crawling up on the bed beside him, rubbing your hand along his arm, "Sam, we talked about this." You reached over onto his lap, taking the journal and closing it. "Dean is having a night off, you sure as hell deserve it more than he does." You leaned over him, setting the book down on his bedside table. He started to protest, that was until he finally took in your form.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Funny enough, this time it was just you.

You.

In his clothes.

"I know I look ridiculous." You rolled your eyes at him, "Not everyone is giant." You teased.

You watched as the corners of his mouth turned to a grin. "I just didn't realize I was this big." He pulled at the sleeve of your shirt. The way it pooled around your arms and waist. 

When he wore this shirt he looked like sin.

Fabric stretching over his biceps like he was going to bust out of it.

And God. One stretch and you could see that line trailing right down to-

You were snapped out of your thoughts, quick to bite back.

"Sam you are quite literally 6 '5.", You continued "I'm like 5' 4 on a good day."

That made him laugh.

"M'sorry I just can't take you seriously when you're drowning in my clothes." He laughed, and you just sat there looking up at him clearly unimpressed.

"Oh fuck off Winchester." You rolled your eyes, clearly joking. Pulling up the covers over your bare legs, Sam followed suit. Untucking the comforter from his side of the bed and pulling it over him. 

"Night princess." He muttered, throwing an arm around your waist. "Mhm g'night Sam." You replied, quick to doze off.

---

The shitty a/c was soon to cut off. Leaving your Sam's clothes stuck to your skin. With a groan you shrugged off the blanket and tried to wiggle out of Sam's grasp. "Where ya goin'?" He mumbles, voice raspy with sleep. "'S too hot." You whined out, overstimulated by the feeling of the clothes on your body. The cotton wrapped around your torso like a snare. 

You drug your hands down your face, overwhelmed. Sam took notice of this, sitting up beside you, “Take something off sweetheart it might cool you down.” he tugged at his boxers on your thighs. “Sam I can’t. I don't have anything under this.” He shrugged and continued, “‘S just me.” His big brown eyes locked onto yours as his fingers dipped under the elastic of the waistband, “You want me to take these off for you?” he asked and you were quick to nod. “C’mon pretty girl, use your words.” He pulled gently at the fabric, “Yes Sam please..” He grinned, pleased with your response. 

Pulling the fabric to your knees, then finally past your ankles and onto the motel carpet. You hissed at the cold air on your exposed skin. He was quick to soothe you, Cupping your core. “You’re soaking wet, did you know that?” he asked, testing the waters by running his fingers along your slit. “Sam-”, was all you could manage to get out. Dipping the tip of his middle finger inside, he curled it up, watching your face closely for a reaction. Your face scrunched up in pleasure and you whined. “Just one finger and you’re already falling apart hm?” He asked, and you nodded. “Yes I–need more.” He tsked in a mocking tone, “So greedy.”. But nevertheless gave in, adding his ring finger to the mix. Curling upwards inside you, he brushed against that spongy-spot. Your back arched at the new sensation, breathlessly mouthing pleas for more. Sam watched as your body contorted in pleasure, accelerating his pace, “I’m right here angel..”. His words filled your ears, and the band that twisted finally went taut and snapped. “Fuck–Sam.” you whined as your body convulsed under him, thighs shaking at the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Sam brought his fingers to his mouth. Taking his middle and ring finger, he pushed them past his lips and onto his tongue. Rolling his eyes at the taste, he wiped his spit off them and onto his pajama pants. “You did so good for me y’know that?” He reached down to cup your face, running his thumb across your cheekbone. 

Dipping a little lower, he brushed his thumb against your pout. Pushing past your lips, you opened your mouth, taking his thumb inside. You swirl your tongue around the digit, savoring the taste. His eyes lit up at your action. “You wanna help me now sweetheart?” He asked warmly. You were quick to nod, “I wanna make you feel good too.” He smiled at your words, and guided you to the floor. Knees sunk into the outdated carpet, Sam perched at the edge of the mattress. 

You found yourself between his legs, tugging at the plaid pants around his hips. He grinned at your desperation, always wanting to help. Sam raised his hips, allowing you to slide them down with his boxers. His cock sprung against his stomach and he raised his shirt, up and over his happy trail, then finally in his teeth. The cotton was pinched between his teeth like he was a dog. Your eyelashes fluttered as you took him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. Just as you did moments before. His head threw back as he grimaced against the fabric between his teeth. You smiled, eyes wide and boring up at him. 

Sinking your lips lower and lower down his shaft, until the tip hits the back of your throat. Your nose brushed against the hair on his lower stomach. He groaned at the sensation as you started to bob your head around him, hollowing your cheeks to fit more inside. Breathlessly he buckled over, “Baby there's no way I can last with you doing all that.”. You pulled off him with a pop, satisfied with the mess you made of him. His hair was stuck to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest was heaving with the restraint he tried to keep. 

He rubbed the side of your face, and you rose off your knees to press your lips against his. Still slotted between his legs, you pushed him back against the mattress. You kissed down his neck and he whimpered, his cheeks flushed. “Please Y/n I need you.” His hands wrapped around your waist and you sunk down onto him. “Oh fuck–” He whined at the feeling of you around him, soft and wet engulfing him whole. Your hips rocked back and forth, watching him come undone underneath you, while you chased your high at the same time. Your hand pressed firm against his chest to stabilize yourself as you grinding further down onto him. Unanimous moans and whimpers refracted off the thin motel walls. Sam’s hips sputtered up into you, “I can’t-” he whined. “Inside Sam please.” Your words like answered prayers, as his hips thrusted up one last time and finally halted inside you. Collapsing against his chest, you pressed your cheek into him. As he tried to catch his breath he whispered into your ear, “I love you.”. Raising up to face him, you looked into his eyes searching for anything. All you found was warmth radiating off him, in more ways than one. “I love you too.”