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it was a mistake to do the follow ups to these one batch at a time. a foolish decision.
Shocked Loly got voted down so hard, obviously she's got issues, and she's not even particularly one of my personal favorites or anything, but like clearly that's part of the appeal. Also suprised at Ginjo's performance on these, especially given that his bankai form got its own. I get not liking the mullet, that's fair, but I feel like the bankai rectifies that, not to mention the overall villain form. No Love for Love, really? Also absolutely shocked Luppi scored so low. An egregious disrespect to those hip windows. I'll admit the bangs aren't great but the cute little curls are to die for.
I just cant with people and their love of utterly featureless dead moms/wives. And i love Momo to death but she's just not a smash. girl needs therapy and like a vacation from work, but the girl does not need to be sexualized. Most of the rest of these seem pretty obvious though, both for me and the general concensus. Yeah yeah Mayuri fans are in the minority. Boo... Actually, you know what, in regards to miss Misato, the lack of respect for a modestly attractive teacher over a bunch of tragedy fodder madonna martyrs is shameful
Once again I just cannot jive with the fanbase's absolute garbo taste in wwomen with either zero personality zero autonomy. Nanao I'd have considered back during SS when she was still more of a corporate icequeen, even if the begrudging mommy/put upon secretary role would still have been a huge turn off. But the whole thing in the TYBW arc just ruins her character for me. I feel like I've complained about Nel enough on this blog that I don't need to go over this again: I would unironically rank screeching baby Nel over Neliel, even if they're still both a pass. Nemu I feel bad about, I don't dislike her general character, but again zero autonomy is not a turn on: Hard Pass. Ya'll are cowards not fucking with The Wind. I like his perma bed-head and his two tongues, and yeah even his goofy ass casual ahegao. I want to pull him by the hair. We all knew how the Nnoitra thing was gonna go; obviously not a popular pick but the girlies who got it bad got it bad bad. Nobutsuna is some kinda Thief and the Cobbler/Jafar Aladin/Rurouni Kenshin Udo Jinne ass ting going on and I'm not gonig to lie, I'm into it. The man looks like a whithered corpse but in a good way(?) It's not a super committed smash, but it's there. Honestly, Numb Chandellier I had to think about a little, but she's just the wrong kind of tentacle and the wrong kind of mind control. The heart eyes are cute tho (Category N also marks the first time I've managed a 0% Smash Approval Rating comparing my picks against the general consensus.)
This was a nice short batch with a pretty big split on almost every one. I'll admit, I had to stop and think about Nimaiya a little. When he ties his hair up in a samurai topknot and gets serious about blacksmithing I almost would, but his loud goofball pervert shtick is just not for me. Given the spit I think these are all safely decided, even though the last ones have a few days left. Nimaiya could still flip on me in the next like 24 hours tho...
looks like the R polls are prettymuch wrapped. I feel like i'd get flak for it but look, Unohana's cool and all but not like sexualized cool. And I'm just not into the fetishized servile and demure matronly thing. I feel bad Riku scored so low, he doesn't particularly feel like he deserves it, just not my type. Boy the bleach fans really hate the moustache huh? like it's not an overly enthusstic smash but I wouldn't not. Shocked at the cowards not wanting to fuck Rudbornn; he's a cool guy who you don't have to look at his face, what more do you want? All the benefits of just putting a brown paper bag on their head but what if the bag looked cool. The rest of these were just obvious picks
I'm cutting the Ss in half just because it's a lot. These seemed like pretty clear cut picks all around. Shukuro Tsukishima was a tough decisions because he's basically just me without my glasses and a different location for the forehead scar, and I just don't love myself enough to think of him as hot. But he does have his weird moment toward the end where he has a little too much fun messing with people's memories and I'm about that energy. Shawlong is verymuch contingent on his cool monster scissorhands form.
Been meaning to go back and take stock of my "score" on the ongoing @bleach-smashorpass, I've grayed out anything where my personal pick didn't match the popular outcome, and left the ones where I fall into the majority vote in color.
Look, I'll be real, I'm not above monsterfuckery, even if I don't consider it ""my thing"" but I'd have voted smash on Ayon if he didn't have his weird secret muppet face. Also Aaroniero was an extremely light smash, i really had to flip flop on that one a few times before making a choice. I'll be honest, I liked original Chapter25 epilogue Aisslinger way more than what we got in the Arrancar Arc, and if I could split the vote I'd smash original and pass on final design for him.
Bambi is just such a boring design, and honestly Batsuunsai isn't much better, but the glasses are cute. She was really close to being a pass.
I was actually surprised that I had to stop and think about Choe but his giant chin and tiny bowl cut were not doing him any favors. Also as much as I like Cyan as a character, there is just something about hime cuts that are an automatic off switch for me. the rest of these felt fairly obvious.
not gonna lie, little hurt by the lack of D-Roy and Dordonii love
Confused that people were so lukewarm on Findor, although it was a close split. Also oddly I could have sworn I passed on Furofushi... I'm not really a fan of pigtails, with very few exceptions, but when I went to check the poll results it said I voted smash. Maybe I was thinking she was feeling Hiyori adjacent enough to count it at the time? I.... I don't remember voting smash on Entetsu...
i feel very scandalized by having voted unpopularly on all these old men... I'll be honest, Gremmy is a very lukewarm smash, and the potential of the Visionary power as a sex thing was very much the deciding factor.
boy bleach fans really don't like moustaches, huh? So funny enough it wasn't until the anime that I realized Hidetomo has his multiple earrings and somehow that changed his whole vibe for me, but prior to that it would have been an easy pass. I absolutely cannot abide characters whose whole thing is being someones dead wife/girlfriend, even if she otherwise looks exactly like Rukia, who'll be a smash for sure once we get to the Rs.
i figured i'd be on the wrong side of the fence with the kurosaki men but it's a real hard no on all the above. I'll be real, I'm kinda surprised Ikkaku was so popular. The rest of these felt obvious. Oh wait no there was like no love for Izumi Ishida. Boo to that.
okay so hear me out... Jugram is too blond. I know that sounds like nonsense, but like, he's too fundementally blond. Like most of Bleach's blond characters could have other generally light hair colors, and it wouldn't super change their image or aesthetic, but Jugram has to be blonde because the alternatives don'teel the same, and that's too much blond for me.
i know i voted pass on ichigo, which might make smash on kaien seem weird, but it's between the personality difference and the eyelashes. People not smashing on Kiyone is a catastrophe
and with that i'm all caught up with the letters where all the polls that have already closed. i'll be back to update these as the rest keep rolling along. I dunno why I really did this apart from the compulsion
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new longer entry on my neocities blog! it snowed today so im talking abt that + small webcomic stuff regarding the upcoming chapter 4 (nothing crazy, if it was a delay or something id mention it on the tm2 blog lol its just about my planning process) :3
#sanchoyorambles#ALSO ! I updated the code of that page slightly so it should look marginally more readable on mobile#but i still need to tweak it bc its not really as good as the other pages on my site on mobile yk#it doesnt totally reformat like they do. but i actually dont want it to i want it to look like a notebook...sigh..........#might be better on rotated mode on phones??#ill figure it out later. its fine for now
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Eat God playtest draft 0.5.0 is now available
Version 0.5.0 of Eat God brings several major changes, foremost among them a full rewrite of the Forms and Rebellious Arts, in a more structured and (hopefully!) more readable format than the previous wall-of-text presentation. This update also includes print-and-play cards (and corresponding VTT resources) for all Forms, Arts, and playset NPCs and locations. A full list of updates is available here, or under the cut below:
Download package now includes print-and-play cards for all Forms, Rebellious Arts, and playset and NPC locations
Revised introduction to provide a link to the new Form, Art, and playset cards
Expanded discussion of the mechanical effect of Traits
Forms and Rebellious Arts are now numerically indexed in their descriptions as well as in their lookup tables
One additional Form (bringing the total up to a full 36 for the first time!), and a full rewrite of all existing Forms
Full rewrite of all existing Rebellious Arts
Added discussion of how to handle resisting Stress when multiple God-eaters are affected by the same threat simultaneously
Small clarifications to activation timing for Rebellious Arts and what it means to "activate an Art in conjunction with a test"
Greatly expanded discussion of how to adjudicate Limit Breaks
Reformatted examples of Limit Break effects and added a few more examples
Random inventory table slightly revised to make its implicit milieu more consistent, and moved from the Inventory section to a separate appendix in preparation for adding multiple random inventory tables for different milieux
"Effect modifiers" renamed "impact modifiers" to avoid ambiguity with other uses of the word "effect"; relevant terminology throughout document revised accordingly
Simplified rules for how Forms influence impact penalties (formerly effect penalties)
Added first-pass rules for imposing temporary Traits upon NPCs
Added discussion of how cooperative tests work in the context of multiple God-eaters ganging up on a single NPC
Reformatted playset location/NPC/calamity tables for better readability
Added "Appendix B: Additional Tables"; right now this just contains the relocated starting inventory table (see above)
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thinking about the aftermath of the final war with bakugou.
It’s more often that you and Bakugou are the only ones left in the dorms after the war. The others chose to go back to their homes when the school’s implementation of mandatory dorm living lifted, and some decided to stay a little longer.
“Taste this.”
Bakugou raised a brow but didn’t protest as you walked over, spooning some curry towards his mouth. With a slight huff, he leaned forward, lips parting just enough to take the spoon. The moment it hit his tongue, his nose scrunched slightly.
“Careful, it’s still a bit hot.”
“Mild,” he muttered after swallowing. “You could barely even taste the richness of the sauce, too.”
You let out an exasperated sigh, frowning. “Are you serious? I followed your recipe.”
“Still mild; you brought shame to my recipe.”
You gave him an unimpressed look before turning back on the pot. “Wow, then maybe you should’ve been the one cooking here. I’m gonna check what went wrong.”
“I would if I could, dipshit.”
“Just get over here and check, too.”
“Nuh-uh. You said you’d cook tonight.”
“And you’re the one who keeps on complaining that I didn’t do your recipe justice!”
“That’s a fact.”
“Starve.”
He huffed, shaking his head as he went back to his writing practice, but there was something in his expression—something almost amused.
-
Bakugou sat by his study desk, his left hand gripping a pen tightly as he tried to force his stubborn fingers into writing something readable. His handwriting had always been sharp and textbook-pristine penmanship that you could mistake it for being printed, but now, with his right hand still recovering, it looked… awful.
You sat a good distance next to him, watching with an unreadable expression.
“Oi,” Bakugou grunted, not looking up. “The hell are you staring at?”
“Your letters look like a baby bird scratched them out,” you said bluntly, not even bothering to hold back on your words.
He clicked his tongue. “Like I don’t already know that.”
You reached over, grabbing his notebook before he could protest, flipping back to his first attempts from a few weeks ago. The letters were uneven, practically illegible. Then you held it up next to his latest attempt.
“See? You’re getting better.” You turned the notebook toward him. “You can actually read this one.”
He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached for the notebook, but you yanked it away at the last second, grinning.
“You don’t get this back until you admit I’m a good teacher.”
Bakugou glared at you, debating whether this was worth a fight. Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the chair.
“Fine. You’re not the worst teacher.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Don’t get too cocky.”
“Me? Never. That’s more of a you thing and not a me thing.”
“Like hell it’s only me.”
You laughed. “Let’s try numbers this time; I even bought a tracing book.”
“That shit’s for kids,” he scoffed.
“It says three and up,” you argued. “You’re three and up, are you not? And—who knows? Maybe after this you’ll be ambidextrous.”
“Shut up.”
-
“Run.”
That was the only warning before Bakugou grabbed your wrist and bolted.
The sound of rapid footsteps and excited squeals filled the hall behind you. A group of first-year girls was hot on your trail, giddy with the thrill of chasing UA’s most popular second-year student.
“Why the hell do they keep following me?!” Bakugou barked as you rounded a corner, his grip still firm on your wrist.
“Because you’re literally their idol,” you said between breaths, peeking to see as the girls went the opposite direction. “They see you as some kind of bad boy heartthrob ever since the Sports Festival. It’s kinda cute.”
“It’s not cute—it’s annoying!”
You found an empty classroom and slammed the door shut. Both of you stood there, panting. Outside, the sounds of giggling and footsteps faded down the hall, the first-years continuing their search elsewhere.
You let out a breath and leaned against a desk. “Could be worse. They could be chasing you with cameras like the paparazzi did.”
Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Don’t even joke about that.”
You nudged his shoulder, smiling. “You didn’t have to drag me with you, y’know? Or is this an excuse to be alone in a room with me?”
He glared at you, opening his mouth to argue—but then he caught the teasing glint in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.
“Fucking idiot. You’d get trampled over by that mob.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll tell Iida to see if he can scout the area to make sure no one’s going to jump at us when we leave.”
You laughed, and despite himself, Bakugou didn’t find it all that annoying. He actually found it... familiar and worth something he can’t put into words.
SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
#guys i hate him so much (not)#why do i have so many soft prompts for this gremlin (my bf)#someone stop me before i just lose it#‹𝟹 𓏲🗒️ꜝֶָ֢ ʾʾ#bakugou x reader#bakugou x gn!reader#bakugou x gender neutral reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou fluff#bakugou drabble#bakugou imagine#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha drabble#mha x reader#mha fluff#mha drabbles#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bnha bakugou#bakugou#katsuki bakugou#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou
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The best years of my life...
... what I wouldn't give to have them back.
I had the great pleasure of working with @spiderscribe on a DeadCeptor work for the @tf-bigbang, which you can (and should!) read [ HERE ]!
Details and artist commentary under the cut!
Okay, first off, I just wanna say, thank you so much to @spiderscribe for picking up my very loose scribble and taking the jump. She's an absolute champ, and I IMPLORE you to read her writing. She did a knockout job on the fic, and guaranteed, these two pieces wouldn't have been so elaborate without her. If you're a fan of deadceptor, parallels, lovers to enemies to apocalyptic teammates to ???s, I'm sure you'll find that and more in there.
[ HERE ] is the link to that, if you missed it the first time around.
The background for the supermarket was a MASSIVE undertaking. I ended up blurring it in the final to keep the dream-like quality, but there is a lot happening there! Most of the time I spent on the background was (jokingly) complaining though.
Anyone who works retail will know the agony of customer-misplaced stock. The little canisters of energon additives seem like prime candidates to be placed willy-nilly.
The little warning sign... My favorite soda, apple sidra, has a carcinogen warning, so I'm familiar with it. It was slightly surprising to me that those warnings are not countrywide, despite the fact that they very clearly say "California Proposition 65", and well. Not something else, like "Federal" or whatever.
The bags of nuts and bolts below, I asked several people what flavor they would be, and I suppose I failed in my job, because I wanted the purple to be the "regular" flavor, and the green to be the "sour". But grape and lemon-lime work as well!
The tub is full of rust-sticks. I have no idea if that came across. My friends kept calling the individually wrapped ones slim jims, which I mean, I guess!
The car batteries... My idea was that they were similar to shots, in a way? So that's how I ended up with a battery with enough terminals to rival an international airport. It's also sunset-coloured, because, I don't know, that's what Party Flavor is to me.
Okay. The second illustration. This one was a headache, mostly due to my own lack of planning, and the fact that I lost the file for... basically everything I did, including the above illustration. So it was a bit of a rush job.
The background bots started off as these very vague silhouettes, which I'm a little proud of. Look at how nice and somewhat readable they are! Okay, now what if I ruined it? What? You don't like that? That's rather unfortunate, because that's what I proceeded to do. In fact, if I take off all.. 10 or something adjustment layers, they look like this:
My process went: Shadow block> Fill rest of form> Color randomiser> Copy and skew (to populate background)> Hue adjustment> Gradient map> Fill Light> Chromatic aberration> Vignette> Levels> Curves.
The.... Magenta cube is there because due to the nature of the color randomiser, the foot had a high value, and stuck out like nobody's business in the end.
Here's what it would look like without the cube. Begone, distracting white blob! (I didn't have to worry about the lava arm because Percy happened to cover it up. What a save! But if he didn't then... there would have been a second cube.)
Basically, it was a mess. But... at least it came out fine in the end! I hope!
I'd love to have speedpaints on hand, but I was switching between CSP and PS for a good majority of the work.
I'd say that's it for these two pieces! I actually have more, but those demand more time. I'm much slower at doing inks than I am at painting, but I hope you'll get to see them soon.
#phew! been a while since I last did some commentary for a piece#I didn't even go over what everything was on the background shelves but just know if you asked me i'd probably be able to tell you#I have... an additional several pages of a comic based off of the fic that I unfortunately have not finished in time#but I definitely will#again it was amazing working with caroline and I hope to work with her again in future!#maccadam#transformers#tf perceptor#tf dead end#transformers cyberverse#tfc#deadceptor#perceptor#dead end
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Mkay last post before logging off. Featuring silly pixel art I made w/ my mouse.
This chart was actually made out of pure self-indulgent a while back with no intention of being posted, I ended up scribbling(?) all over the thing. Hopefully it's readable when zoomed in.
It's "my ship in 5 minutes" but I can make it 30 if you want. WARNING: Tons of sappy yapping+pixel art download under cut.
About "tropes": The trope is called Angel-Devil shipping, oh but I don't think PV is an angel. He's more like a God for SM (at least that's my preference)… Thinking at all the possible tropes that suits them make me really wonder why some people consider Shadowvanilla a crack/pro ship. Enemies to lovers or villain/hero ships have been pretty archetypal since the day of olds. Compared to all the ships I've encountered in the past… Shadowvanilla is more or less the "slightly out of the norm" on the "problematic ships scale" <- typing this out make me feel like an old fandom veteran haha
About "how it happens": I have no idea where to put PV on that chart. He's the one who approached first, but not out of romantic intents, him falling for SM is as unexpected as can be. SM fell first and slowly, and in 'slow' I meant decades upon decades. It's inevitable, painfully so, spending all those years watching over this cookie who's so perfect in his imperfections, how could one not feel something? Of course it's not so simple, that 'something' is a horrid mixture of disgust, envy, hatred, understanding, both the need to preserve and destroy… And maybeee the tiniest crumb of affection? SM realized something around the first couple hundredth years mark, he then spends the next thousands in denial of it. No matter. Whether it's PV or the Soul jam, his birth-given rights. SM knows what he wants and he WILL get what he wants. (He's wrong on both fronts. And somewhere in the back of his mind, SM knows that. But he'll never admit it. He'll never ever admit anything. Until it's too late. In a way, the same goes for PV)
About a certain someone who's not clingy, but would die for attention: I think PV gets lonely easily. As he's hyper-aware of himself and considerate of others, appearing clingy is the last thing PV wants. So PV would put extra efforts in taking care of those around him, be it cookies, animals or the greenery in his garden. A healer is always busy, always helpful. If he's always needed by others then he would never be afraid of being alone. Ironically enough, this ended up making PV come off as a little overbearing. As of late, the only ones able to see through the facade are Hollyberry cookie and you-know-who.
Other scattered thoughts: These two are completely different yet can't be more similar, on the various sliding scales they're either stuck to one another or are flung to both ends. On another note, honestly I can't see these two doing anything domestic together, the most I can see is cooking, which is basically the same as magic in the cookie world. Anyways, are they in "love"? Are they dating? Not really, no. It's more of a a parasitic-turned-symbiotic-soulbond, a will-they-won't-they-destroy-the-world situationship (iykyk) I do enjoy relationships that's hard to put into words. Their feelings are somehow romantic, somewhat deranged and something much, much deeper.
My desire to ship these two comes from the desire to see them grow beyound their archetypes. Being with PV does give SM the chance to be horrible as can be, yeah, but I'd like to think SM does have a personality outside of being a villainous tormentor. He spends so long observing others, and now for the first time he's being seen. Now SM have met someone who can see right through him, who can glimpse into those dammed vulnerabilities of his. Being with SM does let us see PV in his darkest moments, but it's at the same time the moments where PV can shine the most, to prove SM that his ideals isn't naïveté or simple platitudes. In canon, SM+PV works well as enemies, but it is the many contradictions born when romance is added into the mix that got me shipping. They simultaneously break down and bolster one another's greatest traits. Like binary stars, they orbit around the other, so close yet so far apart, lest they collide. They could've been so perfect for each other. But not in this life, or the next, or the next...
Pixel art time! I have way too much fun w/ Smilk's many faces, his and PV's combined came to around 22 expressions. These are quick to made due to their small size (25x25 px). Zip file includes both the og and 75x75 sizes. I don't mind if any Vanilla milkshakers might use these, just please remember to read the my art terms and conditions first! (which can be found in my About)
Some disclaimer: some images may have different names. This is the first time I'm using Getuploader so sorry if something broke.
Link
#I think about them a normal amount#been waiting to be weird and ranty all week pls let me have this#all this yap and I still haven't run out of things to talk about#it's not even half of my Shadowvanilla thoughts(tm)#I'm COOKED#crk#cookie run kingdom#shadow milk cookie#pure vanilla cookie#shadowvanilla#vanilla milkshake#art#fanart#pixel art#stuff i draw#headcanon#ship template
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How to properly create a readable reference… !
Using old pilot reference as an example, I’m here to expand on this to make a turn around sheet that will be more helpful to someone who would be looking at this while animating the design….
1st, get rid of the posing, it’s stretching anatomy and complicating the image, how will we be able to see how her shoulders rest if we can’t see her arms down at her sides? Leave poses for a separate page for exaggerated expressions
2nd, giving her a neutral expression can not only help us better balance the thickness of her lashes but also make the eye shape clearer- and where her features should rest naturally when she is calm. Giving the animator a consistent anchor after an especially exaggerated movement of the face. We always must have a proper clear default.
3rd, proper side angle, her arms pinned back slightly to expose her side, showing the animator how the shirt ends at the side or how the lapels connect to the back and wrap around the neck- which can be shown at the back angle too.
4th, proper back angle, you can see I have two set here one where her hair is out of the way and exposing her back while one had the hair fell down, showing us not only how the back of her shirt looks but as well as how her hair would fall- leaving nothing to imagination and guess which could have contributed to animation consistencies to the pilot art style. Preferably we would also have a straight on shot as well, but for space sake I left that out for now.
5th, all are in the same pose and all body parts match up, none of the hand on hip or out in an awkward position. We have to know in animation the BASICS then from there the animator is free to bend it in practical ways but will always know what the rules may be. It’s exactly why so many shows have animation bibles. The more information you feed your animators the more streamlined your project will be. Don’t make the animators work any harder then they already do by guessing what the hell you were going for…
6th, add ons, what is the inside of her mouth look? What about a place we can’t see such as her top lid (while also getting a view of what her lashes look like down at half lidded) or the underside of her foot? Leave no place left untold! Remember animation can help give your characters the illusion of living in a 3d environment. They can and will see the underside of them or behind them- work thoroughly.
Whether you are making animation or even a comic, a proper reference is crucial to character consistency as well as a perfect place to add additional information one might not see at first but grow incredibly vital in later drawings.

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Contracted Love ~ MYG
WORD COUNT: 7.1K
GENRE: CEO AU, marriage contracts, blackmailing, fake dating, fake marriage, falling love and realising you’re scared, (might actually be my fav piece)
PAIRING: Yoongi X Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
As Yoongi began to walk through the bustling heart of the city he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back from the meeting he had just left and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what had happened.
It had been his grandfather's will reading, something that heartbreaking in and of itself but what was getting to Yoongi more was the stipulation that came along with his portion of the will.
"It is not my wish for you to end up like me, old, alone and afraid of love."
Was that the piece of paper read, his grandfather was giving him strict orders to follow if he had any chance of getting his grandfather's portion of the company he owned and he needed it.
There was no way it could go to his father's side of the family, the vultures as his grandfather called them. They only hung around him long enough to know that they were going to be put into the will and didn't want to know his grandfather any other time. But it was all stupid. In order to collect his portion he had to be married and have a child all within a year.
A man who had hardly dated before was supposed to married and have a child within twelve months if he wanted any chance of keeping his company alive. Now Yoongi could have sworn he heard the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind as a constant reminder that he hadn't got much time.
"Please, I promise I can get it for you by the end of the week if you just give me some more time!" A voice pleaded, interrupting his thoughts and making him freeze on the sidewalk wondering what was unfolding in front of him.
"I've heard this a million times, Yn, I'm sick of hearing it." A male said, angrily staring down at you as you whimpered a little. He was your landlord Richard and he had just served you with an eviction notice for your business.
"Pages & Aromoa's will be a hit in no time and you'll have all the money I owe you." You sniffled but Richard handed you the piece of red paper and walked away, ignoring your begging and driving off.
"Fucking cunt," You hissed before heading inside of the door.
Yoongi stared up at the cafe sign it was basically falling apart but it was easily readable. The brick walls of the cafe had patches of Ivy clinging to the surface as if trying to breathe life into the ageing structure. The windows were slightly grim but offered a glimpse into the warmth inside that awaited anyone walking by.
The cafe was nestled between two giant skyscrapers, one of which belonged to Yoongi but he'd never even noticed the cafe before. Sighing to himself he wondered if this was the cafe his grandfather had been boasting about before he had died and he found himself walking inside. The bell above the door sounded as he did so but you were nowhere to be seen.
"I'll be just a minute," Your voice called out. Despite the outside appearance of the building, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised when he walked inside. The interior was a sanctuary of tranquillity and refinement. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under the soft glow of vintage bulbs that were casting a warm ambience in the cafe. The perfect place to hide away and work or even read which was something that clearly happened here.
There were shelves lining the walls, stretched from floor to ceiling, the books all looked used and loved. Plush armchairs and cosy reading nooks were all over the place, offering a place for someone to lose themselves in the pages of a good book or work in silence. It was obvious why his grandfather had loved this place and had been talking about it for months.
"Stupid, machine." Yoongi heard you grumbling as you finally came up from behind a counter and smiled warmly in his direction. The smile that sent a warmth throughout his chest he suddenly felt guilty about having.
"What can I get you? And please, don't say coffee because the press is broken and the machine won't work," You pleaded with him, Yoongi's mouth opened to say something but he found himself unable to speak, struck by something he didn't understand. His chest was fluttering and his stomach was in knots, he didn't know what was happening.
"Oh! Are you deaf? I know some sign language but I can write stuff down if it's easier." Before Yoongi had a chance to protest you were beginning to sign to him, something he didn't even understand himself but he was pretty sure you'd gotten it wrong.
"Can I get some tea?" He didn't know what was going on with his stomach but his grandfather always told him that tea solved most issues. Something warm to settle a raging stomach.
"Sure! I have a whole selction-" You were about to list off the extensive list you had when Yoongi shook his head,
"Early grey would be fine, with Milk."
"To go?" You arched a brow at him, most people that came in dressed the way he was got all of their orders to go. You knew the type he was, a businessman, too busy to learn the name of the place they were in but were loyal to it, it was nice.
"Erm," Yoongi glanced around and then down at his watch. He wasn't due back at work for another hour or so,
"I'll stay," He smiled at you and you nodded, pointing around the shop for him to sit anywhere he wanted. It wasn't like it was going to get busy anytime soon and your regular customer you'd had for a few months had suddenly stopped coming recently.
"Sure, make yourself comfortable." You gestured around the room and Yoongi stayed frozen in place,
"Don't you need my name for the order?" Yoongi countered you smirked a little at him.
"Because it'll get lost in the sea of customers?" You asked sarcastically, laughing nervously at the end,
"I guess that's true." He chuckles a little, and for the first time in a long time it feels like a genuine laugh from him, something he hadn't done for a long time
"He died?" Your voice was so sympathetic as soon as Yoongi told you about his grandfather, Rath, who had been your most loyal and regular customer. The two of you had been discussing your business for a while and you'd mentioned to Yoongi about having to close down soon if you weren't picking up in business.
"I wondered why he stopped coming by," You slowly sank down in the armchair opposite Yoongi and he smiled sadly down at the cup of tea in his hands.
"Were you close to my grandfather?" You weren't close with the man but he'd been coming in every day it felt like you were friends.
"I wouldn't say close but we did talk a lot whenever he was here, he loved you." You smiled, Rath had spoken so much about Yoongi that you felt as though you knew him but he hadn't been at all what you were expecting.
You'd expected some small, nerdy-looking guy but Yoongi was the opposite, he was built well, dressed in the finest of suits and looked as though he could be in the pages of magazines.
"I have a proposition for you." He suddenly said. Yoongi wasn't blind, he could see the business was going under and he knew you needed him as much as he needed you.
"Which is?" You laughed a little, looking up at the time and then back to Yoongi. The two of you had been sat talking for almost two hours now and still not a single other person had come in, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Yoongi, who was already concocting a plan in his mind.
"I need to get married." He said bluntly.
"And I need your help to do it." You held back the urge to laugh as you stared at him, you weren't sure what his grandfather had told him but you didn't know anyone in the market at the minute.
"Unfortunately I'm not sure I'm your girl, I can't help."
"But you can. You see, I have a lot of money and you need a lot of money." You knew that already, the Min family were richer than rich, one of the richest families in the world.
"What makes you think I NEED money?" You were trying to play it close to your chest, but it was true. You were desperate for money, your coffee machines were broken and you were behind on four months worth of rent.
"Yn, let's be real, your business is going under and I can help. I can keep you afloat or make you a huge success, whatever you want I can do that." As amazing as that sounded you still didn't know anyone that would be willing to just randomly get married to him,
"But I don't know anyone that wants to be married." You shook your head but Yoongi smirked at you,
"You can marry me," The words registered in your brain and you bit back the urge to laugh in his face.
"Are you insane?" You added a nervous laugh at the end and stood up, moving away from where he was sitting but he was quick to follow you.
"I have a lot of influence, I can easily make this place well known." He told you with a giant smile, your hands nervously tugged at the cleaning rag in your hand and you stared at him.
"Just for marrying you?"
"Just marrying me. All fake, no one would have to know we're not really together," Shit like this didn't happen in real life, only in books and really bad film adaptations, there had to be a catch.
"What do you get out of this? Why do you need a wife so badly?" Was this something he did on a regular? Ask random women to marry him and then never follow through with all of his promises.
"If I get married, I can collect my grandfather's part of the company but I need a wife." He was going to ignore the child part until absolutely necessary, he was sure there was a way out of that.
"Why wouldn't he leave it to you?" You frowned, Rath had seemed so sure of Yoongi, you were positive he would have left his Grandson something.
"He doesn't want me to end up alone," Yoongi admitted, your heart breaking a little as you remembered Rath mentioning he wished he'd never divorced Yoongi's grandmother,
"Oh."
"You'd get your business up and running, booming, I'd get half of the company away from my vultures of a family and everyone will be happy." You'd heard stories of the other side of Yoongi's family, stories from Rath and things you'd read about in the media.
"Okay...But there have to be some rules in place...A contract?"
"Agreed," Yoongi glanced down at his watch and bit his lip, he was already late for a meeting but that didn't matter.
"Come up to my office tonight, give your name to security and they'll bring you up. We'll work out a contract and hash out all of the details." He smiled warmly at you and you somehow believed him that all of this was going to work.
"My business will be fixed if I do this, right?"
"I promise." He breathed out before rushing out of the door, your heart racing at the thought of all of this becoming true. You glanced down at your outfit before cursing yourself, you were dressed in clothes with holes and your apron was torn to pieces.
"New outfit," You mumbled, heading to the door and locking it up. If you were going to go into business with Yoongi then you wanted to look the part.
"Come in," Yoongi called as he heard a small tapping at his office door, the day had gone on for longer than he'd liked and he was looking forward to writing out the contract and heading home for the night.
"Mr Min, Yn is here." His assistant announced before shutting the door, Yoongi slowly glanced up from his desk and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
He had been expecting you in the same scraps of clothes you had worn this morning but instead, you were dressed in a black pencil skirt and a red silk top that was unbuttoned to show just enough cleavage.
"Is this okay? It's the only thing I had left from my office days," You laughed nervously when you noticed him staring at you a little longer than he had done that morning.
"It's-It's erm, perfect." His voice stuttered and cracked as he stared at you. He had no idea that you could look this way and now he suddenly felt as though he was out of his depth.
"Please sit," He gestured to the seat in front of his desk before grabbing two bottles of water and sitting back down. By now you'd gotten out a worn leather-bond book from your bag and smiled.
"Let's get straight to it," You said, your tone businesslike yet hidden with a little humour. Yoongi smiled to himself, preparing his own notepad.
"We need some rules in place, so nothing is blurred along the way." He stated simply.
"Your business will be my number one priority during all of this. We'll sit down with a bookkeeper and organise your bills as well as figure out anything that's owed." You suddenly felt your chest tighten, you were in a massive amount of debt. Yoongi had already gone into research mode when he got home and knew everything you needed to pay off.
"T-That might be a lot. Are you sure you're up for it?" You hated that you were in so much debt, when you'd ventured out alone to own your own place you'd been so sure it would be great you could pay it back in no time.
"No issue, I assure you, I didn't become the CEO Of Min Media but shying away from challenges." Your debt wouldn't even cause a dent in his savings but he wasn't going to tell you that and make you feel bad about it.
"That means a lot...Thank you," You smiled warmly, the smile sent his stomach into knots once again, he really wanted to see someone about that.
"We need to keep everything strictly professional." You finally stated, looking up from your notepad and back at Yoongi who was, once again, staring at you.
"Agreed." He jotted it down on the notepad.
"Secondly, we can't tell anyone it's not real. It's imperative to me we keep everything hidden. We keep up a genuine illusion to appease my family and the shareholders." He told you, if anyone found out this was all fake he'd most likely lose his shareholdings as well as be the laughingstock of the media world.
"Agreed." You wrote it down, and Yoongi eyed you up. You'd been quiet about your family finding out and it worried him a little. He didn't want you to go around telling anyone it was fake, it would only take one slip-up for the world to know.
"What about your family?"
"What about them?" You asked, staring up at him with a blank expression on your face, Yoongi frowned.
"You can't tell them the truth." He reminded you and you nodded, your lips in a line as you shrugged your shoulders a little.
"Not a problem, I haven't spoken to them in almost four years since I went out on my own to own a cafe."
"Understood. We must present as a united front," He stared at you. His heart felt heavy at the thought of your family ignoring you for following your dreams.
"We will have to attend social events together, support each other publicly and appear as a happy married couple at all times." You nodded at him.
"I can handle that." It was no big deal, you'd get to dress fancy for a while and it would be fun,
"Living arrangements?" Yoongi wrote down and then stared at you,
"Well, I currently have a place in the lower part of Seoul, you're more than welcome to come and live with me," You teased only to be met with widened eyes.
"That was a joke Yoongi," You clarified with a small laugh,
"You can move in with me." He stated plainly, you frowned at him. As much as you hated your place you weren't sure moving in with him was the best idea.
"Is it necessary though?"
"Yn, once we're seen together you'll never get peace...People will want to know why a soon-to-be-married couple are living separately." You knew he was right, there would be too many questions and you didn't want to have to deal with them,
"Okay."
"I'll arrange a moving van for you tomorrow." He smiled, writing down on a sticky note to remind himself once the two of you were done.
"Can I suggest one more?"
"Sure." He looked up at you, expecting something about asking to be paid, or for more than you were getting out of it. All of which he was willing to do if it meant getting what he needed out of you.
"No falling in love. It's a business arrangement and any romantic feelings that may develop should be ignored." Yoongi was taken back but nodded his head at you.
"Of course. We have a deal." He smiled shaking your hand across the table.
With a sense of determination, you added a final clause to your contract: Yoongi would take over the financial management of Pages & Aromas, ensuring its stability and prosperity while also shouldering the burden of its debts.
"We will be announcing our marriage this weekend, it'll be held here. In the meantime, I'll pay your rent for the cafe," He stated as you both signed along the pieces of paper, Yoongi took them both into his grasp and filed them in his drawer his eyes lingering over the clause about not falling in love.
"I'd like it if you didn't work for a few months if that's okay?" He suggested, staring at you as you frowned.
"We can fix up the shop a little, have it redone to your specifications and then announce it as a grand opening."
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"You can do whatever you want, money is no issue."
"It is for me."
"We'll be married, what's mine...is yours," He stated before laying down a black card in front of you.
"Yoongi, it's already enough you're helping my business I can't take your money too." The statement was shocking, everyone Yoongi knew was always after his money, it was why he'd never dated in the past.
"Fine. But please keep it, you can use it as an emergency card, or if you need an outfit for an event...it's yours," He told you as you flipped the card over, already finding your name inscribed on it, had he been so sure about all of it since this morning?
"Okay. Fine."
"I'll have Alan drive you home and I'll see you tomorrow at my place." He smiled warmly at you as you got up from the chair, feeling a little overwhelmed with everything but nodding your head.
With a sense of nervousness mingled with excitement, you stepped into Yoongi's luxurious penthouse apartment. Your final box had been taken up by a group of men and you were unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You walked through the door, slipping off your shoes before your eyes widened at the opulence that surrounded you. The spacious living area was adorned with sleek modern furniture and tasteful artwork while floor-to-ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the city skyline below. You could practically see all of Seoul from up here, how did he get anything done? You knew you'd find yourself people-watching more than you should.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you set about unpacking your belongings, your mind racing with thoughts of the new chapter that lay ahead. As you sorted through boxes and arranged your stuff in their designated places, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place in such a lavish environment.
"Mr Min will be late this evening, he said to make yourself at home," Alan, who had driven you home the night previous, said with a warm smile on his face. But how were you supposed to do that? You didn't know what you were and weren't allowed to do or even where to go. Did he have rooms off-limits to you? More questions flooded your mind but as the afternoon waned into evening, you found solace in the familiar routine of preparing dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of food cooking on the stove grounding you in the present moment.
You'd always loved cooking, you were hungry and determined to make a good impression on Yoongi. Even going as far as to make your famous cake no one could say no to it.
By the time Yoongi arrived home, the apartment was filled with the tantalizing scent of home-cooked food and freshly baked treats. Stepping through the door, he was greeted by the sight of you bustling about the kitchen, a warm smile gracing your lips.
"Welcome home," You said, your voice infused with genuine warmth, something Yoongi hadn't had the pleasure of hearing in years. His eyes lit up with surprise and appreciation as he took in the scene before him.
"You've been busy," he remarked, a note of amusement in his voice as he watched you carefully. You shrugged modestly, a warm feeling spreading onto your cheeks.
"I wanted to do something nice for you. Dinner will be ready soon, and I made cake." Yoongi's smile widened as he crossed the room to envelop you in a grateful hug.
"Thank you, Yn. You didn't have to do all this." You were in shock at the hug at first, your heart thumping as you tried not to overthink it. He was just grateful for the food. You smiled a little, returning the embrace, a sense of contentment settling over you.
"I know. But I wanted to." You admit before going to set everything down on the table ready to eat.
It had been almost a week since the news had broke that you and Yoongi were going to be married and he'd been right. People followed you EVERYWHERE. You'd gone grocery shopping two nights after the news was released and you'd been followed by men with cameras, all of them screaming questions at you. Luckily you and Yoongi had already come up with a story for you both, something easy to remember. You'd met because of his grandfather and it had almost been love at first sight.
Tonight though you were at a restaurant together, your hands linked on the table as you stared lovingly at one another. All of it feels a little too real for you.
"Tell me something about you that I wouldn't find in a magazine or news article." You begged Yoongi. Since moving in with him you'd done extensive research on him, wanting to be prepared in case any of his crazy family members tried to doubt the two of you.
Yoongi stared at you, hesitating for a moment as he thought about it. He was torn between the desire to open up to you and betraying your agreement but the look in your eyes made it hard to resist.
"Well, I've always loved astronomy," He confessed, his eye staring down at the glass feeling suddenly vulnerable.
"There's something about the vastness of the universe that puts everything into perspective." Your eyes lit up with interest, finally, something about him that wasn't run-of-the-mill CEO shit.
"That's beautiful," You whispered,
"I've always been drawn to the stars as well." You admit, the two of you getting lost in conversation and completely forgetting about the many people snapping photos of you together. Yoongi let himself open up to you more, finding himself falling in a freefall for you. His head reminded him of the agreement you'd made together, no falling in love and he couldn't risk jeopardizing everything.
"Why haven't you spoken to your family?" He suddenly found himself asking over dessert, your fork freezing midway to your mouth as your throat suddenly ran dry.
"They decided they didn't want me to ruin their family name,"
"But you were following your dreams, shouldn't that be something they were proud of you for doing?" He didn't understand how someone couldn't support the person they loved in everything that they did.
"The Score family don't follow dreams, they crush them," Your voice was flat and dry as you placed your fork down.
"Score? As in-"
"Lawyers, the best in the business." You hissed out, you hated that all of this was being bought up but you owed it to Yoongi to tell him the truth.
"I don't speak to them, biologically I'm their daughter but legally I'm not."
"You were emancipated?" He watched you closely and you nodded your head,
"As soon as I left the company I did it myself," You admit with a smile on your face, you were proud of what you'd done. Being a lawyer had never been your dream and if the people that had raised you had it their way you'd still be another cog in the inner workings of their awful company.
"Believe me Yoongi, they have nothing to do with me-" His hand was on top of yours, rubbing over your skin in a soothing motion.
"It wouldn't bother me if they were still in your life." He promises, a weight being lifted from your chest as you let out a happy sigh.
The two of you continued to talk all night long, discovering things each other you hadn't known before and it was starting to feel like a true friendship was forming.
Months began to fly by as you and Yoongi worked on your fake relationship and countless parties you attended together, business and personal, but tonight was the one you were most nervous about. You were pacing around in the living room of the apartment waiting for Yoongi to come down and meet you. Your hands nervously played with the purse you were holding, the prospect of meeting his family tonight looming over your head like a dark cloud.
The door to the living room opened and Yoongi stepped inside, freezing when he saw you pacing around but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were in a stunning floor-length gown, crimson colour to match his tie but it clung to your body perfectly, seeing you turned his blood to fire. You paced away from him giving him the perfect view of the back of the gown, which had a crisscrossing strap at the back, the fabric shimmering and glowing with every step you took.
"I don't know if I can do this." You admit to Yoongi once you notice him there. You'd been faking it with everyone and everyone believed you so far but were his family going to be so easy to convince?
"Your family...they're going to see right through me." Your voice trembled with uncertainty and Yoongi smiled weakly walking over to you. He was nervous himself but he wasn't going to admit it to you.
"Yn, you're stronger than you think." He told you, his hand gently reaching out and rubbing your arm.
"We'll get through tonight, together." He had no doubt the two of you could convince his family you were together, to be honest, he had a hard time convincing himself it wasn't real.
"What if they ask about our relationship and I cock the story up? What if they see through me?" He smiled down at you, running his hand over your cheek.
"We'll handle it, Yn. I won't let anything happen to you," And he meant it, if anything were to ever happen to you he knew he'd never survive it.
After months of spending every second by your side, he felt himself falling harder and harder in love with you until the point where everything was blurred except for you. All he cared about was a future with you. His words were like a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of panic, you took in a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on everything again.
"And if they don't believe us? What happens to me?" You asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.
"I'll make sure your business is taken care of, I'll not let anything happen to you but for now, let's focus on getting through tonight together." He whispers, kissing your hand softly as you feel a spark running through your veins. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you faced them together, you could conquer anything that stood in your way. And with that realization, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a glimmer of hope.
As the two of you made your way through the entrance, all eyes turned to greet you, your presence as a couple commanding attention amidst the sea of glamorous attendees.
"They're staring." You uttered to Yoongi as he smirked, his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked together, your steps synchronized in harmony. Heads turned, smiles were exchanged and greetings were offered as you passed by people.
"How could they not? You look like you stepped out of a magazine, you look beautiful." It wasn't the first compliment that Yoongi had ever paid you, in fact, you'd grown used to the compliments he'd give to you all the time. Including the small hugs and kisses the two of you would share even if you were in public, it was clear lines were starting to blur but you weren't entirely sure you minded anymore.
"Look, it's Min Yoongi and his fiancée," Someone whispered, their voice tinged with awe.
"They're a stunning couple." Her date said back to her, their eyes trailing over you both as you moved through the crowd.
"Let's give them something to talk about," Yoongi whispered but before you had a chance to ask what he was talking about he was taking you over to the dance floor.
His hand rested gently on your waist, guiding you with a tender pull as you began to move around the dance floor together, the rest of the world fading into the background.
Your movements were slow and deliberate, each steps a silent conversation between you as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. Your heart raced with every beat, your breath catching in your throat as you allowed yourself to be swept up by the magic of the moment.
"You look beautiful," Yoongi whispered, your eyes locking as you stared at one another.
"You said that already," You mumbled nervously as he smirked to himself, moving in time with you as you fell back into a comfortable silence. Not a single word needed to be uttered as you knew what was happening to you, you were falling in love with him too fast and everything was falling apart around you. You continued to dance together, neither of you daring to speak the words that lingered in the back of your head. Knowing that acknowledging your love would shatter the delicate illusion you'd worked so hard to maintain.
"So this is the lovely Yn." You turned your head to face Juliain, Yoongi's father and Yoongi wrapped his arm tighter around your waist.
"Lovely dance the two of you did, your mother made me dance shortly after." He chuckles softly but Yoongi remains deadpan and unreadable, his grip on you tightening. You'd heard about Julilan from both Rath and Yoongi and you knew the man was bad news, a slimeball only after money.
"Julilan. Lovely to see you, shame you didn't make it to grandfather's funeral, it was a lovely service." Yoongi said coldly, your eyes staring up at him. Julian had refused to go to the funeral but had gone to the reading of the will, only to see what he was entitled to.
"I have no doubt, you always knew how to throw a party." Julian laughed but your heart shattered, Rath had been an amazing man and to insinuate that a party was held for his dying instead of a grand funeral boiled your blood.
"Party? A man died-"
"Hush. You don't speak unless spoken to." Julian said in a dismissive tone, your mouth dropping open as you couldn't believe the man in front of you.
"With all due respect, sir, I am not a decoration on Yoongi's arm I am his Fiancée," You spoke clearly but Julian turned to look at his son who was now red in the face,
"I see she has no manners or concept of brains. Where did you pick her up? A brothel?" Your stomach dropped as you looked down at yourself, was he implying you looked like a whore? The woman who had dressed you tonight told you that you'd looked elegant.
"Don't." Yoongi seethed through gritted teeth,
"Women should be seen and not heard. Act like the trophy wife you are meant to be." Julian was in your face but within seconds he was shoved away by Yoongi, a smirk playing on his father's lips as he realised he was getting under his skin.
"Don't speak to my wife like that." He ordered but you pulled at his arm, you could already see people starting to stare and Yoongi didn't need the bad press.
"You're not married yet. Are you really going to cause a scene over a woman? Behave." He hissed at him, you stared at him as you waited for him to insult him one last time.
"Still just a child." He muttered, about to walk away when you finally found your voice once more.
"A child who has done more than you'll ever accomplish in your life." You hissed out at him, earning a smirk from Yoongi, he had to admit he was proud of you for not backing down from him.
"Why you little-" A hand was raised in the air but Yoongi caught it, shoving his father away from you.
"I see why you hate the man." You mumbled as Yoongi checked on you, his eyes softening once he saw you were okay.
"If he'd hurt you just then." It didn't bear to think about, he was angry, blood-curdling as he thought about the way his father had gone to strike you.
"He didn't." You whispered to him, your hand rubbing his back softly but it did nothing to calm him down right now.
"I'd kill him."
"Yoongi." You pleaded with him, but he was lost in his own anger.
"He's a disgusting piece of shit and I would have killed him." You stepped in front of him, your eyes finding his as he stared down at you in shock,
"But then I'd have no one to watch the stars with," You whispered only for his whole body to relax and he nodded slowly at you.
"Let's get some food and go out on the balcony, we can go and look at the stars and pretend Julian isn't even here," You offered to him.
Yoongi ventured off to fetch some food and you found yourself alone in the gala, looking around at everyone who was dancing together or mingling. This world was something you'd never thought you'd fit into before but after spending so much time in it, it almost felt like home.
"Ah, Yn dear, there you are." You slowly turned around to see Mia, Rath's ex-wife making her way to you with a giant smile on her face.
"I've been meaning to have a word with you," She said as she reached you, her voice gentle and a welcoming contrast compared to her son.
"Of course, Mrs Min. Is everything alright?" You eyed her up as she smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"No one's called me that in years, call me Mia." She begged, you nodded at her and slowly made your way out onto the balcony to talk better together.
"I wanted to first tell you how happy I am that Yoongi has found someone like you." Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart fluttering at the unexpected praise.
"T-Thank you, Mia. That means a lot to me." Mia reached out to pat your hand affectionately.
"You know, I've seen the way he looks at you. It reminds me of the way Rath used to look at me." Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of her words.
"I...I'm not sure what you mean." She chuckled softly at you,
"Oh, my dear, don't be so modest. It's written all over his face- He loves you, and I couldn't be happier for the both of you, even if you were faking it at first." You smiled weakly, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to process everything you'd just heard. Yoongi loved you - truly, deeply and unequivocally and that sent a surge of panic through you.
"Rath would have adored seeing you both together," Mia added before giving you an envelope.
"In my side of the will I was to give this to the beautiful girl from the cafe, now I assume that's you." You stared down at the envelope and nodded, quickly placing it into your bag to look at another time, when you weren't so stressed.
"I-I have to go," You rushed out, panic taking over you as you began to hurry through the crowded hall. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, you loved him too but there was no way you could do this. You raced around a corner when you collided with Yoongi, sending you both sprawling to the floor.
"Yn, what's wrong?" Concern was etched in his features as he reached out to steady you. Your breathing turned tagged as you struggled to compose yourself, slowly standing up.
"I...I need to talk to you," Your voice barely came out above a whisper but Yoongi nodded, leading you to a nearby alcove away from prying eyes.
"What is it, Yn? You're shaking." He reached out to touch you and you took in a deep breath, words tumbling out in a rush as you fought to make sense of everything.
"I just spoke to your grandmother, and she...she said that you love me, Yoongi. And...I...I don't know what to do." Yoongi's expression softened as he reached out to cup your trembling hands in his, his touch sending a shiver of warmth coursing through you.
"Yn, listen to me. I know this is overwhelming but you need to understand something...you belong here with me," You stared up at him as he didn't deny falling for you, tears welling up in your eyes as you shook your head.
"I ran away from this world."
"And now you're back but I promise it'll be nothing like your family's world." He breathed out as you stared at him, his eyes boring into you,
"You belong here, with me."
` "What if you suddenly decide I'm not good enough for you? What if I can't give you everything you deserve?" Yoongi brushed a gentle thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear.
"You're everything I need, Yn. Your love, your strength, your unwavering support - it's more than I could ever hope for. And as long as we have each other, we can face whatever comes our way." Tears began to melt away as you stared at him.
"I love you, Yoongi." You whispered, the words feeling like a weight was taken right off our chest.
"I love you, Yn, Always." He whispered.
With a soft sigh, he closed the distance between you and you leaned in slowly to him. It felt like an eternity until your lips met in a tender kiss, time seemed to stand still as you savoured the sweetness of the moment, your hearts beating in harmony as you finally surrendered to the pull of love. It was a kiss so full of tenderness and longing, of hope and promise.
When you pulled away your foreheads touched and you giggled a little.
"Let's go home, I wanna show you how much I really love you," He winks, as you squeal a little taking his hand and practically dragging him out of the party.
Months Later
"CEO'S Expecting: Min Yoongi and Min Yn Announce Pregnancy, Anticipate The New Heir To The Legacy?" You read out the title of the "Webber Files" newspaper and stared over at Yoongi with a blank expression.
"I see why their paper sucks," You grumbled, folding it up and staring at your husband who hadn't been able to take his eyes off you.
"Don't look at me like that, the last time you looked at me like that, this happened!" You stated, pointing down at your baby bump and whining at him.
"But we had fun," He wiggled his eyebrows at you and sat down beside you on the sofa, the two of you curling up together on a lazy Saturday morning.
"We did," You giggled as he ran his hand over your bump, smiling happily to himself. Not long after you found out you were expecting Yoongi told you the other stipulation about getting his grandfather's portion of the company and that was a child but you couldn't have been happier it was happening.
"Julian will flip a lid." You laughed at the thought of his father finding out about his son having a child but more importantly, you couldn't wait for him to figure out he was getting nothing in the will besides a small shop in the middle of nowhere.
"Oh, I meant to say. Gran asked if you'd looked into the envelope yet. Whatever that means," He frowns and you reach out for your bag, opening it up to find the envelope still sitting there.
As you took it out and opened it you couldn't believe what you were reading.
"By now I assume Yoongi and yourself are together and knowing My Mia she would have given this to you at the appropriate time, but enclosed are the deeds to your cafe. All yours, all paid for, as well as the number to my lawyer who will arrange for you to inherit some money as an investment to you and your dream.
Best Wishes,
Rath,"
You and Yoongi stared at one another, laughing a little as you realised Rath had been planning your get-together for a very long time.
@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp
#bts#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts imagines#yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#suga#suga x reader#suga imagine#suga imagines
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SHIFTING ✭ DRABBLE
When witnessing you "flirting" with Robby, Jack attempts to cope with the way you, or the feelings he has for you, are changing him.
✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・
THE LENGTHS PART ONE
PART ONE DESCRIPTION: Jack meets the new nurse Robbie's been fawning over, only to then take the next couple of nights to pathetically cope with what he's feeling for the peppy, sunny young woman he's just met.
✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・
Think of Jack Abbott not being able to help the man he's becoming because of you. There's almost a point where he wants to blame you, but he'd never do that. He could never do that. But there's the problem, as capable and beautiful as you are, he shouldn't think you're perfect. Or innocent. Even in love. Even when he can finally accept the way his bones tense and his blood rushes around you, even when he becomes brave and secure enough in himself to almost feel entitled to the way he thinks and feels about you. He shouldn't look at you with a reverence you'd only reserve for...God. Or Jesus. Either one.
This is not the man he is. Even when he's falling for someone. What exactly are you doing to him?
"You're biting your lip again. That's your "I'm about to yell at Robby through the margins of the chart" face. What is it?"
There's nothing like sound mechanical symphony of beeping monitors and overhead pages to aid in witnessing you flirting with Robby yet fucking again. It would've been a month ago that Jack's annoyance would've been chalked up to the slight unprofessionalism of you two distracting him and other staff, but Jack can...possibly admit it now, he thinks it's flirting, and it's getting to him.
It's just that, even if he likes you, why is it getting to him so fucking badly?
"Excuse me, I never yell at you through the chart. And I am also...just now...communicating feedback."
"...No. You never have. But I'm sure I'll agree with your passive-aggressive, very legible "feedback."
"I've been told my handwriting is perfectly readable and bubbly."
"Much like yourself. I agree."
You laugh, nudging Robby with your elbow. Dr. Robby to you. Always professional in name, even if you're practically turning Jack's best friend into mush.
Jack squeezes the clipboard in his hand when he stops hiding behind the corner. A month ago, even if your peppy conversations with others spread like wildfire over his chest, the guy would've never actually have stopped behind the wall to eavesdrop on said conversation...to collect more material to get pissed at.
He's not the same man he was a month ago, and he's certainly not the guy he used to be before he met you. But he guesses that's the point, every time you meet someone, you'll never be the same person you were the second before they walk through the door.
And every time you catch his eye and offer that blinding, casual smile, Jack has no choice but to think the person he's regressing into is worth it if it means he has you. You. You. You.
Awfully capable and genius and horrifically beautiful.
But still, Jack hates the twitch of his jaw when he realizes that smile you're giving him right now is a shared one. Not completely his. That it would've been if you just stuck to night shifts like he suggested.
"How’s that post-op gallbladder doing in 9?"
You salute him. Robby smiles something at him that's almost an amused disbelief. But why are you amused, brother? You know her so well, you work together in ease as if you've known her more than the four months she's been working in the Pitt.
"Stable. Labs are improving. I already rechecked his hemoglobin, too—holding steady."
"Good. Let me know if his belly gets tense or he spikes again. No heroic discharges."
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
Jack nods. Starts to walk away.
"That’s her way of saying, 'Don’t micromanage me, old man.' Am I on the nose or--”
Jack blinks to the floor when you laugh. He stops mid-stride and turns slightly.
"Stop, you’re gonna get me reassigned to nights."
Just enough to let his eyes linger on his best friend. The closest man he's ever known. One of the best doctors he's ever seen. Jack could hope that if you were another pretty and sickeningly wonderful girl, the grip of his fists would be just as tight as it is now, because the ridiculous hellfire of his pangy-fucky-jealousy wouldn't be the result of you and you alone. It'd be on him.
It'd be on the type of man he becomes when he...when he...
“What was wrong with your night shifts?”
“…Nothin, Dr. Abbott. Just riffing.”
"Well. Glad you two are enjoying yourselves."
...When he falls in love. Fuck him.
But this is not him. The way his voice goes flat and casual is not him, but it's what he says and what he feels because of you and you and you--this sunny little nurse who knows too much for her own good.
There’s a beat. A weird silence. Robby furrows his brow. You straighten instinctively, and Jack almost feels guilty, but that held confidence in his sharp, accusing quip is also who you're making him become. And maybe he'll be sorry for that.
"We are, yeah. Helps the shift go by faster."
"Right. I'll see you."
Jack walks off without another word. Sure. Maybe he'll be sorry for that tonight. Maybe he won't be when he gets home, because he'll be too close to blaming you when he thinks of every time you've smiled at him today, and he wonders--no, he thinks that you have to know.
"Did I miss something?"
"No… I mean, I don’t think so."
And Jack could be sorry when your voice betrays the uncertainty...when it almost sounds...hurt. He can't because he isn't there, but if he were-- if Jack saw how his comments spiked you, maybe he'd actually try to stop himself from the man he's becoming.
But he doesn't. So. He'll act like this all over again tomorrow. He's very proud of himself.
"Did you see her handle that psych hold last night? You know, when I was a kid, I was a huge fan of WWE...for some reason, and that's what it was. He was swinging that chair like he was in WWE and she--"
Jack pauses at the sound of your name.
"She kept her cool. And he was handled like that. I would've cried. Maybe."
"Enough with the goo-goo talk, Mel."
"You would've cried."
Mel says her statement to Santos in a way that isn't unkind, just flat.
"I--no! I would've been the last person to bawl. But...yeah, it's almost resent-able, the way it's like she's made of chamomile tea and ten hits of morphine."
"Um...I don't think, maybe--that resent-able's a word?"
"It’s wild, isn’t it? I know she’s a nurse, but every newbie follows her around like she’s an attending. It’s kinda hot."
"Um. I wouldn't say hot--"
"Work with me, Mel. Please. You're brilliant and no, HR is not right around the corner."
Jack can see Mel smile from where he's standing, as if it's worn with an "Oh, yeah. I can do this."
"Just be careful. I have a mind to think that, possibly, Dr. Robinavitch is already interested in her. Please don't tell anyone that I even think that. I don't--really even think that? It's more so an observation that could totally be misconstrued as--"
"Yeah, well...he probably wouldn't be the only one."
"...Who are we referring to?"
The girls leave with singular laughter, but Jack doesn't move. And again, he'd never linger on a conversation just to make himself...twitch, and get tense.
But here he is, his face calm with a breathing that's steady--but shallow, sharp. He stares at the floor as if trying to reason with himself. It’s nothing. They were joking. It was just talk.
But the words—not the only one—they keep echoing.
Who else? Who else but Robby and everyone fucking else?
His mind flashes to how you laughed with Robby earlier in the day, tossing a roll of gauze at his head. How you snuck a granola bar into Perlah's and Mohan’s scrub pockets, or the way you called Santos "Santi" while you patched her up and got her tested when she got stuck with a needle.
Everyone loves you. Everyone's drawn to you. But before, that would've only been an observation, something to tease you over. Not something to turn make his fist bleed.
He bled for people before, got his leg blown up for them. Killed for them, in a different life. But that was for country, and even though that’s a lie in itself, that made sense. There was purpose he found in that for a moment.
How is his rage and blood and...entitlement over you purpose? Even if he could ever...ever actually love you mutually? How could this all be worth something?
Who else?
"Abbott! What--what happened? What the fuck happened?"
Jack opens his fist. He didn't realize he was dripping onto the floor, that thin line made by the depths of his nails. He blinks at his wound, and barely at Dana.
"Jack, you alright?"
"...I guess it's time for sutures. I didn't mean to--wow. Did not mean to color the floor. Sorry, Dana. I'll call Ahmad, I think he's on tonight."
"...Jack--"
Jack begins to walk away, he can feel their charge nurse follow and fail to.
"Do not clean this up. That's not your job. Hell, it's not Ahmad's. I'll be back with towels."
Is that it? Would it feel any more...worth it if he did have you? Would he be easier on the man he's becoming if he had you? God, hopefully not. Hopefully he'd get his fucking act together, because look. Apparently, it's dangerous. Bloody.
Either way, he'd have to become worthy of having you in the first place, and that's never gonna fucking happen.
#hc's#drabble#the pitt x reader#the pitt x you#jack abbott x reader#jack abbott x you#jack abbott x female reader#jack abbott fanfic#jack abbott fic#jack abbot/reader#the pitt fic#the pitt#the pitt fanfiction#jack abbott#dr abbott x reader#dr abbott x you#jack abbot#pittposting
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Vagastrom, Sinostra and Frostheim ghouls "dealing" with you while you're ovulating
I hope this is readable enough honestly I checked it countless of times but let's just say the heat WA as getting to meeee ( ・ั﹏・ั) I am NOT ready for summer omg.
Anyways this is the last part of this series! Nsfw ahead (≧▽≦)
Leo knows you too well. He observes you intently every chance he gets (meaning when you're not looking) to learn your way of being, mannerisms, expression. By now he has them practiced down to a T, so he will notice every shift in your tone or how you look at him. He's definitely not the sweetest angel out there so he will have to annoy you at first, just for the sake of it. Don't expect him to give you what you want right away, just forget it. He'll toy with you, touching you in all the right places only to stop the moment he sees you're close. He's not that merciless though. Once he's done having his fun, he definitely will make sure to provide you some relief while whispering dirty words into your ear.

Sho can only shake his head in disbelief when he reads you need him once again. Not that he minds. He just didn't expect you to have this much energy. Even when it happens every month, he's still not used to it yet, some surprise flickering across his features when you ask him to 'help' you. Though it is quickly replaced by smugness. He finds it hot, how much you crave him, how you look at him as if you wanted to eat him right there and now. He'll try to wrap up his things as fast as he can, just so he can be at your doorstep when you can't take it anymore. He'll smirk as he effortlessly lifts you up, carrying you to bed and joking how needy his Princess is. Now he's all yours, and he will do anything you want in order to satisfy you.

Tough times for Alan! He's usually able to keep his cool around you, always making sure to be reasonable and rational. But when that time comes, he finds it almost impossible to say no to you. You look so innocent clinging to him, your cheeks slightly flushed as you give him your best puppy eyes. You sound adorable when you beg him so prettily for him to take you again. He shouldn't, he doesn't want to hurt you.. But stare at him long enough and his resolves will start to crumble. He'll let out a deep sigh, reminding you not to hesitate to tell him if it starts feeling like too much. He'd hate if anything happened to you even if it wasn't intentional. So he's going to be very gentle, unless you specifically tell him not to be..

Romeo is a bit taken aback by your sudden change in behavior. Why are you looking at him like that? Giving him those eyes? He needs to regain his composure fast, otherwise he might end up getting seduced by you.. He won't give in! He refuses to play your games, and restraining himself clearly irritates him more than you. He's frustrated, his men not knowing what's going on, and what to do to calm him down. Eventually, he just tells them to leave (that's to put in nicely) and calls for you. I would make the trip quick, cause you're on a very thin ice already.. And once the door closes behind you, you're done for. He won't waste time, ordering you to sit down on his lap and making you say all the things you wanted him to do to you while he's working on reducing you to a whiny mess.

Taiga is having the time of his life with you. He loves when it happens, and he loves that it does every month (yeah, somehow he remembers that..) so you don't have to tell him twice. Be careful though, because he might take it as a sign of consent for taking you whenever or wherever you are (I suggest explaining what you don't want carefully) and it will take you by surprise for sure. If he feels like it, he might want to play around with you first and make you beg for him, for his touch. He's rather impatient though, so it won't take long for him to give in. He'll give you everything you need, and more if you're up for it. Just say a word. Or don't. He knows your body well enough to know the answer.

Ritsu like the responsible man he is - definitely tracks your cycle. Mainly for health purposes, and in case you happen to forget. He anticipates each phase of your cycle, ready for everything. He won't tell you that cause he doesn't want you to feel bad or embarrassed, but he makes sure to leave his schedule a bit less packed, knowing you'll need him more. He won't make you wait too long even if something does pop up. He sees his as his responsibility to keep you satisfied. It's not the only reason of course. It's not just obligation. He genuinely loves keeping you happy, and himself in the process. Once he comes to see you he'll make sure to discreetly turn his phone off, so that there's no interruptions. Now his focus can be solely on you.

Tohma just loves seeing you frustrated and needy, having you wrapped around his little finger. He won't do anything to the point of upsetting you of course, but what's the fun without some games? He will rile you up in the most subtle ways only you will be able to understand. Seeing your flushed and pouty expression is enough of a reward for him. Speaking of rewards, he will make sure to give you what you want the most only after he makes sure you've been good for him, waiting patiently. If you weren't.. well, it's not like he will completely deny you. But he won't make it easy for you either, teasing you until you can't take it anymore and promise him you'll be good next time. Even though he knows you won't be. He clearly doesn't mind.

Luca is mature enough to understand your needs very well. He won't really tease or toy with you, thinking it's far too cruel even if you did consent. He wants to make sure he's the best boyfriend cause that's what you deserve. He loves and cherishes you, so he always tries to be there for you whenever you need him, including when you're feeling.. horny. He loves the fact that he can make you feel so good, and that you crave him this much. If only he's free he won't waste time and will come to see you, immediately taking you in his arms, humming how sweet you are as he slowly undresses you.

Kaito.. If you want him, you have him - simple as that. He doesn't really know how to behave the first couple of times it happens. He's all flustered, feeling like he's dreaming and melting into a mess under your gaze. He almost can't believe that you want him so much! He's both.. scared and turned on. Scared because he doesn't want to mess up with pleasing you. You can expect him to read countless articles about women, in secret of course. This is his chance so obviously he wants to make sure he's doing things properly! If you want to boost his confidence a little, don't hesitate and let him know how good he was making you feel last time. It will make his day, and yours as well. Because now he will make you feel even better.

Jin doesn't really think much about this initially. If anything, you're even harder to deal with right now... He's not entirely sure what to do and it takes him a while to get used to this side of yours. It's not like he's going to reject you but, it's almost hard to believe this is really you. Even more clingy and demanding, looking at his with a small pout when he doesn't give you his attention right away. Once he does grow used to it though, he sees it only as an advantage. He often needs to use a good stress relief, and it looks like you need some too, so it's a fair deal. Always making sure it stays within your boundaries though. He won't do anything you wouldn't want him to. So he does know just how far he can push you. And he enjoys the sounds you make, every single time.

#tokyo debunker#tokyo debunker fics#leo kurosagi x reader#leo kurosagi#sho haizono x reader#sho haizono#alan mido x reader#alan mido#romeo lucci x reader#romeo lucci#ritsu shinjo x reader#ritsu shinjo#taiga hoshibami x reader#taiga hoshibami#tohma ishibashi x reader#tohma ishibashi#jin kamurai x reader#jin kamurai#kaito fuji x reader#kaito fuji#lucas errant x reader#lucas errant
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Serendipity
this is part 2 of 2. part 1 readable here
pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader
tags: watch me turn smut into poetry, idiots in love, it’s so sweet your teeth may rot, all the fluff, all the feelings, playful banter, flirting, soft! Frankie, they are so in love it’s disgusting, kissing, the boys once again having an appearance, Frankie being sexy playing mini-golf ???, dual POV, established relationship, Frankie can cook, our boy is happy for once :')
summary: You decide to give Frankie a chance, and before you know it, you’re drawn into his world, discovering more about yourself and him with every passing moment.
word count: ~ 6,8k (I may went a bit overboard with this oop)

You weren’t trying to stare, really.
But it was hard not to when Frankie leaned over to line up his shot, tongue caught slightly between his teeth in concentration, hat pulled low over his brow. He made stupid plaid shorts look good. Unfair.
“I feel like you’re taking this way too seriously,” you said, arms crossed and pretending not to be flustered by the way his biceps flexed when he adjusted his grip on the tiny club.
He didn’t even look at you when he replied, “That’s because I play to win.”
Then he tapped the ball, missed the hole entirely, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse.
You burst out laughing.
It wasn’t perfect. The fake waterfall behind you was a little too loud. Your slushy was melting too fast. You tripped over the uneven green carpet at one point and nearly wiped out in front of the windmill—but Frankie caught your elbow, steadying you like it was nothing. Like your face wasn’t heating up by the second.
“You good?” he asked, smiling in that quietly amused way of his.
“I meant to do that,” you mumbled, brushing yourself off.
He leaned in a little. “It was graceful,” he said, deadpan.
You rolled your eyes, but the moment stuck—like most things about him seemed to.
He wasn’t perfect either. He missed a bunch of shots, made dumb jokes about golf terms, and pretended to sulk when you got a hole-in-one before him. But every now and then, he’d look at you—not in a checking you out kind of way, but in this you’re actually really fun to be around kind of way—and it made your stomach flip.
By the time you reached the last hole, you weren’t thinking about how awkward the start had been, or how you’d nearly fallen on your face. You were thinking about how he still hadn’t let go of the crumpled scorecard in his back pocket. How his hand brushed yours a little longer than necessary when he handed you the final ball.
And how maybe—just maybe—you were going to stare a little harder next time. Because Frankie was attractive, yes. But also funny. And weirdly sweet. And that was dangerous.
In the best way.
He pulled up in front of your place, engine humming low beneath the silence that had settled after the playlist ran out. Neither of you had reached to turn it back on. The windows were slightly fogged from the warmth inside the car, the night cool and still on the other side of the glass.
You glanced at him, hand on the door handle but not ready to get out just yet.
“So,” you said, turning slightly toward him. “Is this your thing? Picking up girls at bars with tragic lighting and too much Pitbull?”
Frankie smirked, one hand still on the steering wheel. “Only the ones that read.”
You let out a real laugh then—sharp and surprised and a little louder than you meant it to be. And when you looked over, he was already watching you.
Not in a way that made your stomach twist with nerves. In a way that made it flutter.
“That laugh,” he said quietly, like it slipped out without permission. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
You blinked, caught off guard. The words hung there between you like steam on the windshield.
Your fingers twitched against the door handle, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” he asked, almost playful. But there was something soft beneath it, like he wasn’t joking entirely. Like he actually meant it.
You shook your head, smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Because it’ll make me stay in this car longer.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Would that be a bad thing?”
You didn’t answer. Just looked at him, heart doing this stupid, unsteady thing in your chest.
You weren’t the type to let your guard down easily. Usually, there was more caution than curiosity—more distance than this.
But Frankie disarmed you in a way that didn’t feel reckless. Just easy. Like your ribs weren’t holding everything so tightly anymore.
You looked at him then. Really looked. The quiet curve of his mouth. The way his jawline caught the streetlight. The slight bump in his nose. That annoyingly perfect side profile. And of course, the hat.
“So,” you said, tilting your head. “Are you, like, secretly bald under there?”
He turned to you with a snort. “What?”
“The cap,” you shrugged, pretending to be casual. “You haven’t taken it off once. I’m starting to think you’re hiding something.”
Frankie grinned, slow and a little smug. “You wanna see my mob of hair?”
Your brows lifted. “Mob?”
“That’s what my sister calls it,” he said. “It’s tragic, really. You sure you’re ready?”
You didn’t expect to say yes. But then you did.
“Yeah,” you said softly, like a challenge. “Show me the mob.”
He hesitated just a second longer, then reached up and tugged the cap off.
His hair was tousled, messy from the day and the cap and probably from running his hand through it too much—but it suited him. Dark, thick, a little wavy. Unruly, but honest.
You smiled. “It’s actually kind of great. Nothing that needs to be hidden.”
Frankie gave you this lopsided shrug like he wasn’t sure what to do with that.
Your hand moved before your brain caught up. Lightly, fingertips brushing through the strands at the front, pushing them back from his forehead. And he let you. Just… sat there. Quiet and still. Watching you with these warm brown eyes of his.
The moment stretched, warm and vulnerable in that sleepy, late-night way.
You didn’t say anything after that. Neither did he. But something shifted.
It felt like permission. Like possibility.
You finally stepped out of the car, cheeks still warm, hand tingling from the feel of his hair. You gave him one last glance through the open door.
“Night, Frankie.”
“Night,” he said, still smiling like he was stuck in the moment. “Text me when you’re in. Just so I know your building didn’t suddenly vanish or something.”
You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin. “Sure, if the elevator ghosts don’t get me first.”
You closed the door before you said anything else, afraid you’d stay. And when you reached your apartment and leaned against the inside of your door, your phone was already buzzing with a new text.
Frankie: You’re probably rolling your eyes already but… I had a really good time. Even if you did accuse me of being bald 😅
You bit your lip, fingers already flying.
You: I just think people should be honest about who they are. Even if they’re charming, unfairly attractive, and weirdly good at mini-golf. And fine. The hair’s a solid 10 😙
Frankie: Unfairly attractive?? Gonna be riding that high for a week now, thanks. But seriously. This was… really nice. Can we do it again sometime? Maybe somewhere without fake windmills and toddlers screaming in the background? 😟
You: Only if you promise to bring the mob. And maybe lose this time 😉
Frankie: Deal. But I’m still winning. Just a little slower so you don’t cry
You laughed out loud at that, collapsing onto your couch, phone still in hand.
You: You’re ridiculous. But yeah, I’d love to ☺️
The texting didn’t stop.
Morning, midday, after work, before bed. Little comments. Inside jokes. Mini rants about annoying customers (him) or weird elevator neighbors (you). It became constant—effortless.
And somewhere between memes and sarcastic commentary about his music taste, things started getting a little more… suggestive.
You: So when are you showing me your secret playlist with all the sad boy music? I won’t judge. Much 🤭
Frankie: You say that, but I’m still recovering from the “2015 template” comment about my Instagram. You’ve hurt me, deeply 😐
You: I just think you deserve better. Better lighting. Better fonts. A little thirst trap, maybe? Just for balance.
Frankie: If I post a thirst trap, it’ll only be for you. And maybe my one follower from high school who still likes every post I make.
You: You trying to flirt with me, Morales?
Frankie: Would it work if I was?
You paused a beat longer than usual before answering.
You: Yeah. It kinda would 🫣
There was a delay. Not long. Just long enough for your heart to pick up in that way it only did with him.
Frankie: Then I’m gonna keep doing it. Fair warning 😋
Late at night, when you couldn’t sleep, the banter softened.
You: Can’t sleep. Tell me something real.
Frankie: I think about that night at the bar more than I should. You, sitting there with that poetry book. I still don’t know what made me walk over, but I’m glad I did. It didn’t feel like a first meeting. It felt like a pause. Like we were picking something back up
You stared at your screen, blinking through the quiet ache that settled behind his words.
You: Okay that was unfairly poetic. Who’s the reader now? Also… same 🫣
Somewhere in there, things shifted.
The teasing never stopped, but now it lived alongside something warmer, something waiting.
And every time your phone buzzed, your heart answered like it already knew who it was.
You showed up the next morning in leggings and the oversized hoodie you’d slept in. Hair still a little wild. Face bare. Nervous as hell.
He was waiting in the doorway, coffee in hand, and the minute he saw you, his whole face softened.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and a little raspy.
“Hey,” you echoed, breath catching in your throat.
Frankie stepped aside to let you in. You could feel his eyes on you as you passed. You tried not to let it rattle you—but God, it did.
“I didn’t mean to make that weird,” you said quietly, standing in his kitchen like it was too bright for what you were feeling.
“You didn’t.” He handed you the second mug. “I wanted to see you too, don’t worry.”
You looked at him. Really looked. Hair still damp from a shower. Shirt hanging off his frame. Sleep still tugging at his features. But his eyes—God, his eyes—focused on you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.
“You sure about this?” he asked, voice soft.
You nodded.
“I’m not perfect,” he reminded you again, even gentler this time. “But I’ll be real with you. Always.”
“I don’t need perfect,” you said. “I just need you.”
And that? That earned you a chaste kiss that tasted like coffee and quiet promises.
Frankie’s apartment was quiet. Just the hum of the coffee maker and the occasional creak of old floorboards. No loud music, no distractions—just sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds and the steady rhythm of your breathing slowly syncing with his.
He’d pulled you into the living room after your second cup of coffee, both of you settling on his couch like it was second nature, not the very first time. His arm around your shoulders. Your legs tangled over his. One of his hands resting on your thigh, thumb moving in slow, absent circles.
You leaned into him without even thinking. Your head on his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing grounding you in a way nothing else had in a long time, making your eyes heavy.
It was supposed to be a moment. Just a minute or two.
But you stayed.
You dozed off for a while, slipping in and out of sleep as the afternoon light shifted around you—warm gold softening into the early hues of dusk. The room dimmed slowly, shadows stretching longer, quieter. You barely registered the steady brush of his fingers through your hair, his hand never once leaving you. And when you finally stirred, blinking sleepily up at him, he was already watching you with that soft, steady look—like he’d been doing it for a while. Like he was memorizing every detail.
You almost wished you had a camera to catch this, whatever this was. Because you were certain no one had ever looked at you quite like this before.
“You fell asleep,” he murmured, voice muffled against your hair.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Didn’t mind.”
You stayed like that longer than you probably should have. But neither of you pulled away. Neither of you said this is too soon or this is dangerous.
“Is this… weird?” you asked eventually, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean—we’ve only known each other for what, a week?”
Frankie’s arm tightened around you slightly. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel weird.”
“No,” you admitted. “It feels kind of… safe.”
“Yeah,” he said, brushing some hair back from your face. “You feel like a Sunday morning.”
You blinked up at him. “That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve said to me so far.”
He grinned, unapologetic. “Not even close.”
You laughed and hid your face in his shirt, letting his smell fill your senses. “God, you’re dangerous.”
“Only in the good ways,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, soft, but it lingered.
And inside, you were buzzing. Because this—his arms around you, your body pressed close to his, his warmth and steadiness and that look in his eyes—felt too good. Too safe. Too much like something you could get used to.
And that terrified you.
You didn’t want to move. Neither of you did but eventually you had to.
But the sun was setting, cutting through the blinds in long golden and purple lines, and time kept ticking forward like it always does.
Eventually, you sat up with a sleepy groan and Frankie rubbed a hand over his face, like waking up without you pressed against him required more energy than he had.
“I should go,” you said, stretching.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t push or ask when he’d see you next. He just nodded, like he already knew.
Still, you moved slow—pulling your hoodie back on, gathering your things with fingers that dragged a little too long across the surface of his coffee table. Like you were anchoring yourself.
Like you didn’t really want to leave.
Frankie walked you to the door, sleepy eyes still somehow locked on you like you were the only thing in focus. And when you turned to him, your heart thudded stupidly loud in your chest.
“Thanks for the coffee,” you said, teasing gently. “And the accidental nap.”
He smiled, a hand running through his tousled locks. So much better than the cap.
“Best part of my day.”
You wanted to kiss him again. You almost did.
But instead, you stepped out into the sinking sunlight with a half-smile and a parting glance over your shoulder.
What you didn’t see—what you didn’t plan—was the little thing you left behind.
Half an hour later, Frankie found it.
Your hair tie, wrapped around the base of his coffee mug.
You’d barely made it home when your phone buzzed.
Frankie: You left something here 😅
A pause. Then another message.
Frankie: Guess I’ll have to keep it hostage until I see you again 😌
You smirked, flopping back onto your bed like you hadn’t been thinking about him since the second you walked out the door.
You: I knew it. You lured me into your place just to steal my stuff 😨
Frankie: Guilty. Hair tie now lives here. Right next to my extremely basic coffee mug ☕️
You: God, is that mug older than your Instagram aesthetic?
Frankie: Careful. Insult my mug again and I’ll keep your hoodie next time too 😤
Your smile softened.
You: So what you’re saying is… you already want there to be a next time ?
A minute passed. Then:
Frankie: Yeah, I really do.
Your stomach did that ridiculous little flip, the kind you usually rolled your eyes at in rom-coms.
You stared at the screen for a second longer before typing back:
You: Good. Because I left that hair tie on purpose.
Only a few days later in his apartment it smelled like garlic and butter, warm and rich and unfairly good.
You leaned against the counter, watching him move around the kitchen with sleeves rolled and a focused furrow between his brows that only made him more annoyingly attractive. He was surprisingly confident behind the stove—measuring, tossing, tasting like it was second nature.
“I’m sorry,” you said, after stealing a bite of pasta from the pot, “but this is actually incredible. Like—date him for the food alone level good.”
Frankie flashed you a grin over his shoulder. “What, you thought I couldn’t cook?”
“I thought you were all hat and no apron.”
He chuckled, wiping his hands on a dish towel before leaning in to steal a kiss. Quick, soft. Like a punctuation mark.
Dinner was good—borderline too good. The kind that lingered on your tongue and made you feel a little too comfortable in a home that wasn’t yours.
But then again, everything about Frankie felt like that. Natural and effortless. Dangerous in the slowest, most tender way.
Later, you curled up together on his couch, both of you full and warm, the soft glow of an old movie playing in the background. Neither of you were really watching—your focus was on the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers, felt through the worn cotton of a faded band tee, the print barely recognizable from years of wear. His hand rested on your hip, thumb moving in slow, steady circles, like he wasn’t in any rush to be anywhere else.
And then, suddenly—he stilled.
It was subtle. Just the way his fingers stopped moving. The way his chest didn’t rise quite as deep. The way his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly beneath your cheek.
You pulled back just slightly. “Frankie?”
He blinked, his gaze flicking down to you like he hadn’t realized he was somewhere else.
“I, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, that nervous tic slipping through the cracks. “There’s something I should probably tell you.”
Your stomach pulled tight, a knot of dread winding low and sharp. Your heart thudded in your ears, too loud, too fast. Please don’t say you have a wife. Or a kid. Or some life I don’t know about waiting just around the corner. You didn’t dare say it out loud, but the thought hit hard—ridiculous maybe, but real. Because he felt real. And the idea of him hiding something like that made your breath catch in your throat.
His eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke—steady, but there was something in them, a flicker of nerves he couldn’t mask. “I’m in recovery,” he said, voice low. “Coke. Mostly. It got bad for a while.”
He swallowed, jaw tightening before he continued. “It’s been two years. Clean. But it’s… it’s hard to talk about. Still. Not because I’m ashamed, just…” He looked down for a second, rubbed his thumb against the side of your hand like it grounded him. “I don’t want you to see me differently. But I also didn’t wanna lie. Not to you.”
Then his eyes found yours again, soft and open. “You deserve to know the whole story.”
“Thank you for telling me,” you said softly, your voice quiet but unwavering. “That doesn’t scare me, Frankie. Not even a little.”
He blinked, brow tightening like he wasn’t sure he believed you, like the words didn’t quite fit into the story he told himself. In that moment, he looked smaller—like the truth had taken something out of him.
You reached for his hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles, grounding him the same way he did for you. “It’s part of your story,” you murmured. “But it’s not you. Not all of you.”
He let out a breath, slow and shaky, like your words had cracked something open and let the light in.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” you added gently. “Just let me see you.”
His eyes met yours then, soft in a way that made something inside you ache—because maybe no one had ever told him that before. And when he leaned in this time, the kiss wasn’t urgent. It was tender. Deep.
No walls. No masks. Just him, letting you see it all.
And you? You weren’t going anywhere.
Frankie woke first. He always did.
The light was soft through the curtains, painting lazy streaks across the hardwood floor, catching in your hair where it spilled across his pillow. You were curled against him, your leg tucked over his, fingers resting just above his chest like they belonged there.
And maybe they did.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t want to risk waking you—not when you looked like that. Completely at ease. Like, just for a night, the weight of the world had finally let go of your shoulders. You made mornings like this feel sacred. Like something worth taking slow.
He could still taste you on his lips. Sweet, a little bit intoxicating too.
Last night hadn’t gone any further than kissing—your mouths slow and exploring, hands reverent but still careful. It wasn’t that he didn’t want more. God, he did. It lived in the back of his throat, in the tension wound tight in his muscles. Every brush of your fingers, every breathy little laugh you gave him when he kissed down your jaw had lit him up from the inside out.
But it hadn’t been about that.
It had been about trust. About feeling safe enough to let each other in. He’d told you the thing he was most scared of—and you hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t pulled away.
You’d just held his hand tighter—and still looked at him. Not just the broken parts that needed fixing, but all of him.
And now, with the morning wrapped around both of you, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Your lashes fluttered against your cheeks. Your lips parted in sleep. And all he could think about was how much he wanted you—yes, physically, fiercely—but also in the smaller, quieter ways.
He wanted your voice in his kitchen. Your hoodie tossed on his couch. Your hair tie looped around the handle of his favorite coffee mug like it belonged there. He wanted you curled up next to him in bed, taking up too much space—the kind he’d complain about to anyone else, but never to you.
His fingers traced lightly over your hip where the blanket had slipped down, just enough to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his touch.
You stirred, blinking up at him, and Frankie offered a small smile.
“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
You gave him that sleepy half-smile that knocked the breath right out of his chest.
Yeah, he was so fucked.
The morning moved slowly, and Frankie let it. No rush, no noise—just the low hum of music playing from the speaker on his counter and the occasional clink of cutlery as he flipped pancakes with one hand, your oversized hoodie hanging off your frame as you leaned against the island, nursing a mug of coffee like you’d done it a hundred times before.
God, you looked good like that.
Domestic. Here.
His kitchen had never felt warmer.
You were humming along to the song playing—something old-school and smooth, the kind of track his dad used to play on Sunday mornings—and Frankie couldn’t help but smile at the sound. His chest felt full. Like he’d been holding his breath for years without realizing it and now, somehow, you were the exhale.
When you reached for a strawberry from the bowl he’d just rinsed, he swatted your hand playfully.
“Those are for the pancakes.”
You shrugged, popping it in your mouth anyway. “Consider it quality control.”
Frankie rolled his eyes but there was no heat behind it. Just fondness. Endless, quiet, stupid fondness.
He served the pancakes, sat across from you at the small table, and listened as you rambled about how eggs always taste better when someone else makes them and how his coffee game was finally improving.
And then, just as he was about to take a bite, your voice softened.
“I went on a lot of dates before you.”
Frankie glanced up.
“None of them ever stuck,” you said, not quite meeting his eyes. “They all felt like… noise. Like I was trying to prove I wasn’t too much for someone.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited, giving you the space to continue.
You smiled—small, a little crooked, not as sure of yourself as he’d come to know you. “I never thought I’d be the girl sitting alone at a bar with a poetry book… and end up meeting someone who actually stayed. Who really listened.”
You looked down for a second, then back at him. “I always thought I was too loud. Too sharp. Just… too much me.”
Frankie blinked, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth, completely forgotten. Something tugged tight in his chest. He knew that feeling—being too much and never enough, all at once.
Maybe the two of you were just a pair of lost souls who somehow fit. Like you’d found something in each other you hadn’t even known you were searching for. Something quiet. Effortless. Like understanding without needing to speak it out loud.
Frankie looked at you across the table, the way your fingers absently toyed with the edge of your plate. And he realized something else too—that it wasn’t just comfort he found in you. It was hope.
You made space for him without demanding he be anything more than what he was. And that scared him a little. Because it was rare. Because it felt like something he could ruin if he wasn’t careful.
“I felt so stupid that night,” you admitted, cutting through his thoughts, voice barely above a whisper. “Sitting there alone with that book, trying to pretend I wasn’t completely gutted my date ditched me.”
You looked at him then, eyes a little softer. “But then you showed up. And somehow, it didn’t feel like such a bad night anymore. Like maybe the universe messed up just right.”
Frankie swallowed hard and leaned forward, one hand finding yours across the table, grounding it.
“You weren’t too much,” he said softly. “They were too little.”
Your eyes glassed over a little, and Frankie squeezed your hand gently.
“You don’t need to be less of anything to be worthy of something good,” he added. “And I swear to God, you—sitting there with that book like a goddamn fever dream—you were the only thing in that bar I wanted to pay attention to.”
The silence that followed was warm, weighted.
You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you said, “You only say that because you still want to sleep with me.” Frankie’s grin turned playful. “Well, that’s part of it,” he said with a wink. “But mostly, it’s because I’m really into pancakes... and you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you grabbed a strawberry from the plate and tossed it lightly at his head. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, still smiling.
Frankie caught the berry with a laugh, pretending to inspect it. “I think that was a compliment,” he said, popping it in his mouth. "I’ll take it.”
It had been almost two weeks since that night at the bar, and somehow, in the middle of stolen kisses, late-night texts, and slow mornings tangled up in each other, you had become a constant.
Tonight, Frankie was bringing you into his world.
The boys were already gathered when you arrived—music playing low, laughter echoing from the kitchen. It smelled like beer and pizza and the kind of memories that never leave a room. Frankie’s hand hovered at the small of your back as he led you inside, grounding, reassuring. You were nervous—he could feel it—but you still smiled.
And then Benny spotted you.
“You’re the poetry girl,” he grinned like he’d just cracked some long-running inside joke. “The mythical bar unicorn. I thought you weren’t real.”
Frankie groaned under his breath. “Jesus, Ben.”
You laughed, though, relaxing at the warm chaos of it all. “Guilty as charged.”
Will came over next, polite and calm with a quiet smile. “It’s good to finally meet you. Frankie talks a lot about you.” Then, after a pause: “Like a lot a lot.”
“Will,” Frankie muttered, shooting him a warning look.
Will just chuckled, passing you a drink. “Ignore him. He’s been insufferable since you showed up in his life.”
Santiago leaned against the counter nearby, nodding at you with that easy confidence. “You’re braver than most. Walking straight into the lion’s den.”
You smiled. “I figured if I survived Benny’s Instagram stalking, I could survive anything.”
“Oh, she’s quick,” Santi said, laughing as Benny threw his hands up dramatically in protest.
The evening passed with the hum of comfort. Jokes and memories thrown across the table, Frankie’s hand brushing against yours under it when he thought no one was looking. And you liked them—each of them, in their own way. Will, observant and dryly funny. Benny, loud but never unkind. And Santi—somehow both laid back and deeply perceptive.
Later, as the others argued over what movie to put on, Santi came to stand beside you in the kitchen, both of you half-watching Frankie refill drinks at the counter, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in fake concentration.
“He’s a good one,” Santi said casually.
You smiled. “Yeah. He really is.”
There was a pause. Then, soft enough you almost missed it, Santi added, “Didn’t see him that happy in forever.”
It landed quietly, threading itself into your chest. Making it feel warm, almost glowing.
You looked at Frankie again—at the little crease between his brows, the soft curve of his smile when he glanced your way, and that thing he always did when he caught you looking, like he couldn’t quite believe you were still there.
And you knew that sentence—Santi’s voice, that truth—would echo in your heart for a long time.
Frankie had driven you home. Neither of you had said much on the way—just a comfortable silence, hands brushing occasionally on the console, that soft look in his eyes whenever he glanced over.
Now, in your living room, lit only by the warm glow of a lamp in the corner, he stood close. Too close to pretend either of you wanted distance anymore.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, searching.
You nodded. “Yeah. I liked them. Your friends.”
He smiled, but it was gentler now. “They liked you too.”
You let that settle, eyes searching his face. “Santi said something.”
Frankie raised a brow. “Oh?”
You nodded. “Said he hasn’t seen you this happy in forever.”
He looked down for a beat, rubbed the back of his neck with that same boyish tell you’d learned to read. “Yeah, well. They’ve seen me at my worst.”
“And now?”
He looked up again, and you swore the world slowed down a little.
“Now I’ve got you,” he said simply, like it wouldn’t be absolutely monumental, and maybe a bit crazy too. It wasn’t polished, but it was real. All of it. Honest in a way that curled around your heart and stayed there.
You stepped closer.
And Frankie didn’t move. Just let you come to him, his hands sliding to your waist like they’d been waiting to rest there forever. His forehead leaned into yours, noses brushing, breath shared.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, even now—always asking.
You nodded.
The kiss began like all the others—slow, sure, laced with the kind of carefulness that only comes with meaning. But then it deepened. His hands tightened at your waist, warm and steady, firm without ever asking too much. Your fingers slipped into the curls at the nape of his neck, and that was when you felt it—the subtle shiver that ran through him, giving away just how much that one simple touch unraveled him. Something shifted then. The air turned heavier, charged with everything neither of you had said out loud. When you finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, his eyes found yours again. Still searching. Still making sure.
And then you were both moving, like the decision had already been made before either of you could voice it. Clothes came off in the quiet, in between kisses and glances and soft laughs at buttons that wouldn’t cooperate. There wasn’t any rush—just a slow unraveling, like each layer you peeled away brought you closer to something raw, the quiet intimacy making your heart ache in the best way.
You ended up in your bed, tangled together beneath soft sheets. The city buzzed faintly outside the window, distant and unimportant. All you could hear was his breathing, all you could feel were his hands all over you with nothing but gentleness and reverence and all you could think was this is him—this is really happening.
He moved over you like he already knew how. Not in some performative, rehearsed way, but with an intimacy that said I’m here. I want you to feel this. I want you to feel safe. Every kiss he trailed across your skin felt intentional, like a vow. Every brush of his fingertips was a quiet question: Is this okay? And your body answered without hesitation, arching into him, aching for more while still not wanting to rush. You felt like you were burning from the inside out, not just from desire, but from how much you wanted him—this man who was being so careful with your heart.
You whispered his name when he finally entered you, and something in him shifted. His eyes squeezed shut like the feeling wrecked him, and his hand found yours, fingers lacing tight as he pinned them gently above your head. He held you like he was scared you might vanish beneath him. But you were there—real, aching, undone in the best way. His expression was a fragile mix of hesitation, wonder, and that quiet fear of getting it wrong. But he couldn’t mess this up. Not with the way he touched you like you were precious. Not when everything about him felt like something you’d been unknowingly waiting for.
The rhythm you found was slow, almost achingly tender—like you were both trying to make time stretch, to memorize every second. You felt the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of each breath he exhaled against your skin. You kissed his shoulder; he pressed one to the bridge of your nose. Between sighs and shivers, you murmured quiet, silly things into the curve of his neck—words that made him smile, even as his chest rose too fast and the vein in his throat stood out from the effort of holding back, of keeping this slow, of feeling everything.
It was messy and intimate and real. Your bodies learning each other in pauses and sighs, laughter slipping between touches, and the occasional, clumsy shift of legs or arms that made you both giggle under your breath. But none of it took away from the depth. If anything, it made it more you. You both never were perfect and you didn’t need to be.
When it was over and your bodies finally stilled, his forehead rested against your shoulder, breath warm on your skin. You kept holding him like the world might shift if you let go, your hands trailing slow, soothing lines up and down his back.
His breath was still shaky as he whispered, “You okay?”
You nodded, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Yeah. You?”
He exhaled, then nodded too. “Yeah. More than okay actually.”
And in the hush that followed, tangled together in soft sheets and city light, you realized something had shifted—quietly, permanently. You hadn’t just slept together. You’d let each other in. And it didn’t feel scary.
It felt like love.
It felt like home.
The apartment looked more like a storage unit than a home. Boxes towered at odd angles, one already half-crushed from someone (him) accidentally sitting on it. The living room rug was rolled up like a giant burrito, and somewhere in the chaos, the toaster was still MIA.
It had been two years since the bar.
Somehow—without either of you noticing exactly when—you’d made his place yours too. First it was a second toothbrush. Then a drawer. Your books stacked beside his. Your coffee in the pantry. Your hoodie always draped over his desk chair like it belonged there.
You never asked. Never had to. You just… stayed. And it made sense. Like it had always been meant to be this way.
You were moving fast, your lives folding into each other with quiet ease, a kind of symbiosis that felt natural. Frankie never minded. If anything, he counted his blessings every single day.
You filled his apartment with warmth. Your laugh echoed through the walls, tinting even his darkest days with gold. Your chaotic attempts at cooking, when the kitchen looked like a war zone and you did too—hair in a messy bun, tomato sauce on your cheek—made him feel like he’d won some cosmic lottery.
He’d never been the type to believe in fate. But meeting you? That felt a lot like serendipity.
“Babe?” you called from the kitchen. “Why is the bathroom box labeled ‘Frankie’s secret weapons’?”
He stuck his head in from the hallway, hair tousled, a dust smear across one cheek. “Because that’s where I keep the good stuff. Cologne, razor, anxiety meds, backup deodorant. The essentials.”
You laughed and shook your head. Wiped your forehead with the hem of your shirt, and God, he loved you. He crossed the room, still holding a rogue coffee mug like it was some sacred thing, and kissed your temple without a word.
It was chaos. But it was your chaos.
And you were engaged.
The proposal hadn’t been some grand thing. No audience, no fireworks , no videos for the internet. Just the two of you, tucked into the corner booth of the restaurant that had become your place.
He couldn’t eat. Kept fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket until his hands shook.
Then he’d just set it on the table—right between your fries and his untouched drink—and looked at you.
No speech. No plan. Just:
“I wanna do this with you forever. If you’ll let me.”
You’d cried. He had too. Your food went cold and neither of you cared.
And it hadn’t even been a surprise, not really.
A few weeks before, you’d been curled up on the couch, your legs draped over his. The kind of silence that felt like home. He’d been tracing lazy circles on your arm when he murmured into your hair,
“Would you say yes if I asked?”
You turned to look at him like he’d grown another head. “You for real now?”
He grinned, sheepish. “Hypothetically.”
“Frankie,” you warned. “If you drop thousands on some stupid shiny rock, I swear to God—”
“Noted,” he’d laughed, yelping when you punched his arm.
The ring was simple. Nothing flashy. But it was him—understated, honest. Yours.
Now, standing in the middle of a half-unpacked future, Frankie reached into a box labeled Misc but Important?? and froze.
His fingers curled around a familiar paperback.
He pulled it out slowly. “No way.”
You looked up. “What?”
He turned the book in his hands, like some artifact from an ancient world. “It’s the poetry book. From the bar.”
Your eyes widened as he handed it over. You opened it to the dog-eared page, the one you’d been reading when he first saw you—lit by neon, too beautiful for the room.
“You kept it,” you murmured.
Frankie rubbed the back of his neck, heart stammering like it used to when he was trying to figure out what to text you in those early days. “Guess it stuck. Like you did.”
You stepped closer, pressing your forehead to his, the book still between you like some kind of lucky talisman.
“I still can’t believe I brought a poetry book to a bar,” you whispered.
Frankie grinned, eyes warm. “You say that like it wasn’t your plan to seduce me with metaphors.”
You smirked, lips curving like trouble. “You only came over ‘cause I was the only girl not glued to her phone.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Nah. I came over because you looked like you were waiting for someone to prove you wrong.”
You rolled your eyes, laughing softly—the kind of sound that never failed to make his heart stutter. Then you gently tapped the edge of the book against his chest. He caught your wrist before you could pull away, easing you closer until you were nestled against him.
Two years. And you still felt like the most unreal thing that had ever happened to him.
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cn: explicit sexual content [nsfw / 18+]. aggressive sex. biting. oral. dirty talk. fluff. 2k words.

⟡ fandom: naruto | pairing: sasuke x reader
⟡ modern AU setting
part 1 part 2
Sasuke tilted his head slightly for his eyes to catch yours. The bed jolted as he pushed you back. Surprised, you open your mouth invitingly with your hands resting beside you.
His eyes swept over your body before his icy fingers grabbed your legs by the thighs to spread you out, only to release them after. He leaned over you, bracing his hands on either side of your head.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his intense, intimidating stare. Claiming he wasn’t the most beautiful man you’d ever seen would be impossible.
Sasuke’s eyes dropped to your lips before he caught them. He placed one hand on the side of your face, holding it where he wanted. You tangled your fingers in his black hair, tugging firmly as you parted your lips further, inviting his tongue. Your hips arched towards him with a moan, which only pushed Sasuke to touch you more. Not gently, no. His urges weren’t suddenly erased; rather, they revealed themselves when his grip tightened on your skin, which burned under his touch.
You locked your legs around him, and Sasuke let out a contained groan at the sensation of you grinding against him. You wanted more. Wanted to hear him more. He caught the hands that had roamed his body and pinned them above your head. He already knew your intentions, especially when he saw the seductive tilt of your mouth.
You spoke between heavy breaths laced with pleasure.
“Let me touch you, Sasuke.”
Instead of answering, his lips traveled to your neck, choosing a spot to leave his mark. His imprint—a sign of himself—needed to be shown on your tempting skin. Your whimper made him consider rewarding you with slow licks, softening the bruise he’d crafted.
He spoke in a voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. His voice was raspier than before.
“Maybe later, if I want to.”
You felt his warm words above your navel, his hands leaving your body only to make it easier to undo your pants. He didn’t let your legs fall uselessly; instead, he cradled your thighs, sliding down to your ankles in a touch so delicate it raised goosebumps. You couldn’t say a word, frustrated by the wait, anticipating the moment he would finally touch you where you needed it.
“Why are you so mean?” You pushed your head harder into the pillow, your hips lifting in desperation. He used one arm to stop you, leaving the other hand free to continue its slow, deliberate motion.
He looked at your defeated expression, completely at his mercy. Only now, did you see his characteristic smirk, appearing in rare moments.
Sasuke lowered his gaze to your black silk panties. He pondered if you’d matched them to your bra on purpose. Dirty woman. That suspicion was confirmed when his fingers brushed the inside of your trembling thighs, trailing toward your breasts still hidden beneath the fabric.
You’ve been hoping for this. Your intentions were readable even when you devoured him with your eyes, but your attempt at restraint only excited him more. His cock, now painfully hard and uncomfortable in his pants, throbbed at the sight.
“You like it when I’m mean.”
It wasn’t a lie. If his version of mean meant making you forget every thought in your head and leaving you desperate for his touch, then maybe there was a slightly toxic part of you that was turned on by it, especially since you whimpered in response.
His fingers finally pushed aside your panties, focusing on the wetness between your legs and spreading it until his slow movements circled your clit.
“S-Sasuke.”
He must like hearing his name fall from your lips. But maybe he’d like it even more if you screamed it, breathless. His finger moved faster, pausing only to edge you cruelly. You were close, but he wasn’t ready to let you finish yet.
He switched fingers, letting his thumb work your clit while another found your pulsing entrance, testing the limits of your need.
“Oh my god—Yes, yes!”
Wretched. He held back a wicked laugh at how desperately you urged him to continue. But you were too beautiful—your furrowed brows, closed eyes, and writhing body—for him not to push his finger deeper, moving it faster and faster.
“Please, put it in me. Please, Sasuke.”
He smiled. He fucking smiled. Officially, you had driven him insane. Sadly, you didn’t see it. When you opened your pleading eyes, Sasuke only partially reassured you.
“Not yet.” Your starting whimper was silenced by the rough pace of his fingers. He pushed your legs closer to your chest, dragging your bottom lip down with his thumb before pushing it into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it as much as you could, barely able to concentrate with the constant cries escaping your throat between his deep, relentless thrusts. “Come first.”
He needed to undress now—badly. Your tongue on his finger made him embarrassingly close to moaning, right as you screamed his name again and again. His two fingers were clamped tightly by your pulsing walls when you finally came. He pulled his finger from your mouth, guiding your chin to look at him while you unraveled.
His fingers gradually slowed, slipping out gently as he watched your arousal drip down them. But he licked them clean, maintaining eye contact as his tongue swept over them. Your gaze was unforgettable. Your chest rose and fell quickly, and you knew it was an image you’d never forget.
Sasuke had to remove his pants first, though he still wanted to taste you more. You barely had time to glimpse the stain on his underwear before he was between your legs, licking up every drop from your overstimulated pussy, ending with his mouth wrapped around your clit. He didn’t wipe his mouth afterward, letting his chin glisten with your orgasm.
You only caught a glimpse of his cock trapped in his pants that didn’t come out easily because of the size. He leaned over you again, kissing and biting your breasts while your hands grabbed at his hair, pulling in response to the sharp pain of his teeth. He couldn’t stop himself from leaving more marks down your abdomen and belly.
“Can you fuck me already—Please! Sasuke, I can’t fucking wait any—”
Your pleading words were muffled by his mouth. His tongue didn’t even bother dominating yours. You were simply his now.
He gripped his cock in one hand, guiding it over your pussy to lubricate it. Sasuke let you breathe before whispering against your ear:
“With pleasure.”
The first push was painful. Painfully slow too. But the agonizing stretch was accepted by your desperate cunt within a minute. He focused on his breathing as his cock managed to slip halfway in; just enough to keep him from finishing too early.
You placed your hand on his back, pulling him closer, and he pinned your other hand above your head, the gesture oddly tender.
“Easy. Let me go slow.” His eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes, watching your every reaction.
“Sasuke…”
He felt you tighten and gripped your chin a little rougher, parting your mouth even more.
“I said slow.”
“But you feel so good… I can’t—”
He pushed in deeper. Slowly. Pulling out, then thrusting in again.
“Fuck.” He cursed at how tight you felt around him—even without clenching. “And you feel perfect for me too.”
“Y-yes?” Your barely coherent words came between loud moans. He couldn’t stop anymore, his thrusts turning faster.
He confessed with an almost vulnerable look, but too full of lust to be distinguish
“Yeah.”
Your voice nearly broke when you felt his fingers return to your clit, your mind completely blanking, slowly lighting with pleasure as you came again.
His previously contained groans were no longer under controlwhen your orgasm wrapping around his swollen cock undid him. Your hands cupped his face, pleading:
“Yes, yes. Cum in me.” Sasuke hesitated until you reassured him. “I’m on pills. I’ll show you—” His thrusts made the bed move, the creaking filling the room. “Please, Sasuke. I need you to cum in me.”
Sasuke closed his eyes, mouth opening in a deep groan as he filled you until it slipped down your thighs. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper as he stilled, his tired eyes eventually meeting yours.
He caught his breath before gently pulling out, and the bed instantly grew wet from your mixed release. He gave you a look before leaving briefly to clean up, returning to wipe you down as well. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to make you feel used. He definitely didn’t want to suggest he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as it seemed.
It was just hard for him to express himself so easily. Opening up wasn’t something he could do with just anyone.
You looked anxious. He could see it. He lay beside you, both of you turning on your sides to face each other. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he showed it through affection, gently stroking your bare skin.
You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and he could feel it. He couldn’t avoid it anymore, and his softened eyes were now fully exposed to you. You cupped his cheek, smiling, and he let out a long breath. He relaxed under your touch and pulled you on top of him, his hand cradling the back of your head against his chest.
“I hope it was okay.” It was all he could manage.
You lifted your head slightly, catching that familiar look in his eyes.
“Are you kidding? Of course I liked it.”
He studied you for a moment before turning his gaze away.
“Good. I did too.”
You smiled, snuggling closer. Not being looked at helped him speak more freely.
“I didn’t do this with you just for sex.”
Your heart started racing again. You could feel the tension in both your bodies until you found the courage in your voice.
“Me neither.”
You felt his arm pull you tighter. Sasuke felt a release in his chest, his muscles relaxing with yours at the same time.
Maybe life with you would be easier.
#sasuke smut#sasuke uchiha smut#sasuke x reader#sasuke x you#sasuke uchiha x you#sasuke uchiha x reader#sasuke x y/n#sasuke fluff#sasuke uchiha fluff#sasuke#uchiha sasuke#sasuke uchiha#naruto smut#naruto au#naruto fanfiction#sasuke fanfic#naruto x you#naruto x reader#naruto fluff#naruto fandom
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drunk confessions
a/n: wow i haven't posted in a long while hahaha thanks for staying :) i'm so burnt out from exams please tolerate me🥲 again, not beta read, my beta reader is busy as heck because of a hellish sch system. also, i wrote all of this at 3am, i hope it's still readable TT (this is obvi in timeskip no underage drinking guys)
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"i think i love you."
you rest your head on your palm, gazing at him with soft eyes and warm cheeks. you reek of alcohol; tsukishima doesn't seem to care.
the two of you sit by the bar at the far end, where the light jazz music gets faint. he's thinking clearly, only a bit red from a drink or two— or is it something else?— while you're flat out drunk. his eyes widen slightly at your confession, and pauses.
"don't say things you don't mean." tsukishima eventually brushes you off, pushing his glasses further up. despite that, his heart beats a little faster, and he hates it.
you splay out your arms across the countertop, burying your face in them. he takes the last swig of his drink. there is the distant sound of glasses clinking and a cheer.
"tsukki?" his name is a bit slurred as you turn to him again. your hair is in a tangled mess, locks of it falling over your eyes. he resists the urge to tuck them away and behind your ear.
tsukishima nudges your foot: a sign to continue.
"y'know, when i first met you, i thought you were an arrogant, self-centred bastard. i hated you." you state, fiddling with your empty shot glass. wow, and just when he thought things were getting intimate.
"where exactly are you going with this?" he frowns at you.
"we used to bicker about almost everything at school. i can't count how many times yamaguchi had to step in." you giggle, hiccuping at the end. you didn't seem to have heard him but he doesn't mind. he shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face; you look so cute being lost in your own world.
"remember it was our last class, and it happened to rain that day? you laughed at me because i didn't bring an umbrella." yes, he remembers. tadashi was sick that day, and the both of you ended up getting lectured many times by teachers for your incessant arguments. he almost chuckles at the thought of it.
"i didn't expect to find your umbrella in my shoe locker after you left, though. you said you had an extra when i confronted you about it but yamaguchi already told me you had returned home drenched." tsukishima's face starts to burn. shit, being reminded of how down bad he was—and still is— is embarrassing. he wishes he was much cooler about it.
"i couldn't accept that you were capable of being nice, let alone to me..." it's even more so because of you.
"...till i realised you're nothing like what i thought you were. you admit your own faults, are too hard on yourself, and incredibly encouraging of your friends in your own complicated way. hell, even to hinata and kageyama!" you're sitting upright now, your hands making exaggerated movements as you talk. you take a deep breath in.
"it's your fault that i can't stop thinking about you, and that i get so sickeningly happy when i see you. so shuddup, i do mean it when i said i think, no wait, i know i love you." you rebuke him, pointing your finger at him like an angry child.
you have done it. you've lit his face on fire with your words. he can't tear his eyes away from your piercing gaze.
tsukishima isn't the most affectionate person, but maybe it's the late hour, or the influence of the alcohol, because he reaches over to caress the back of your head and bring you closer to him. his lips softly presses against your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away. he sees your eyes sparkle.
since kei believes actions speak louder than words, he hopes you know that this, everything, means something to him.
bonus
#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#tsukishima kei#haikyuu x reader#tsukishima kei fluff#tsukishima x you#haikyuu x you#i've been itching to post anything tsukki related
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contains: toxic behaviour, toxic!reader this was itching my brain, idk what to tell you. i like having morally ambigious reader... or idk, is it too tame? i have no idea where the line meets and ends when it comes to dark shit cus i usually stay in the other side of the line. whenever i think of dark stuff its in a comedic-ish light and everything turns fluffy in the end idfk. tell me what else i should add in the warnings 😞
edit: i made it readable, i should really start readproofing.


hear me out..
reader who doesnt do anything when their boyfriend is mean. like theyre just generally pissed off and huffing at you when youre trying to greet them with open arms and a warm smile when they come home.
reader who doesnt confront them about their horrible behavior and how it affected them. no, just stay silent, take in whatever your boyfriend had to say or do and leave him be.
ohooooh, you mightve done nothing but youre going to give them something much worse than a silent treatment.
youre not a doormat. youre not a crybaby.
i want reader to be absolutely menacing. if that man doesnt come back crawling, apologizing to you, youre gonna make him.
do you understand me? the anger, the absolute disgust that bubbles in your stomach, that claws its way up your chest like an animal looking for a fresh breath of air before it starts to hunt.
youre silent all of the sudden, giving him the driest texts known to man, leaving him on seen with texts that dont technically need a reply instead of dragging the conversation longer with a picture of a cat you saw on your way home. youre picking up more work than usual, unable to cut some time, telling him youve got things to do—things more important than having to watch some tv with him, be in bed with him.
youre clever. you know your schedule, and you know his. rearrange everything, make sure to make as much commotion in your life that doesnt include him, so when he confronts you, youre technically telling the truth when you say youre busy.
because why bother coming home early, greeting him, surprising him with dinner and a loving kiss?
then watch it all go down. technically, youre not doing anything wrong, youve got your plate full with a screenshot of your planned calendar to pair with it as sweet, sweet evidence.
youre watching him slightly deteriorate. watch him panic. he'll buy you flowers, in which you put in a vase but never take care of like before. he'll buy you jewelry you wont wear because "theyre beautiful but i like the old ones too! ill wear them on a special occassion" that wont ever come.
the frustrated, panicked look on his face is priceless. it feels so good. he cant even be mad because youre not even cheating! you have all the alibis, all the witnesses. youre perfectly happy and sweet as before! just.. not as responsive, not as present. but thats not your fault, thats your job's!
if he pays for you, slowly start paying your half of everything. shows that you are stable and everything would be perfectly fine if he went up in left. in the end, thats why he got angry with you in the first place, right? he's so okay with being angry, not telling you his problems, that he can keep it to himself, right?
he doesnt need your lap to lay his head on, not your food that you prepare for him when he comes home, not the soft touches you leave on his overworked skin and definitely not the words that you coo at him everyday before he pissed you off.
make him know what the once delicious thought of takeout tastes like once he's left to fend for himself while you go out for overtime at work! trust me, its gonna taste a hell of a lot more bland, a lot more dull. depressing, really.
dont even get me STARTED on sex. (i wont, not now)
this is all justifiable, right? after all, this is how you communicate your feelings right? this is how you can show him how you felt when he showed you a cold shoulder at your warm embrace! let him have the full experience when you felt pathetic, miserable, useless.
plus, youre not wrong, arent you? you can leave whenever you want! who is he to tell you that you cant leave? as if he owns you—is that what he thinks? is that what he thinks of you? just a not-so-significant other that he can come home to whenever he wants and project his feelings unto?
no, no youre not. youre not gonna take that bullshit. he can roll it up, pack it in a bag and beat it if thats what he's thinking. no, both of you are holding an end of a rope in this relationship. a big, thick rope which you can cut off with that large ass scissor you both have.
this is just you telling him, reminding him that you can cut it whenever you like! its not threatening, not manipulation, straight truth! you CAN leave any relationship you like! its his problem if he doesnt like it, right?
your poor little boyfriend has to get his act together! start thinking straight! unless he wants to deal with your unyielding, harsh wrath for the rest of his soon-to-be miserable life.
after all, he made the first threat to your relationship, right? its just a reminder!
#man i fucking suck at taggin bro#to the dude who said why added smau to a non-smau post#honestly idfk i just click shit#is this considered vanilla if i never really read too much dark stuff or at least 'mildly concerning stuff' if it were to happen irl#oh well#highschool aus are my strong game 😞#to me at least#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#gojo x reader#geto x reader#sukuna x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#choso x reader#higurama x reader#jujutsu kaisen#x reader#toxic!reader#i think 😞
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Seven Minutes In Heaven Ruined (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)
Summary: You and Dean are horny and Sam doesn't know how to knock.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: oral female and male receiving
Word count: 1.2k
Note: This is an old one. I made it readable because teenage me didn't know how to words.
Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)
After finishing the last case you realized two things.
One, you were tired as fuck.
And two, you were hungry as fuck.
After a warm shower you put on one of Dean’s flannels, and went to the kitchen to make yourself dinner. Your sweet tooth was craving blueberry pancakes. While you were making the pancake mix, you felt arms around your waist pulling you closer.
“Hey, sweetheart!” He said, and kissed your cheek.
“Hi handsome.” You smiled. You haven’t seen Dean in almost a week. He was pretty sick with a fever, so you and Sam went without him on a hunt in San Francisco – vampires, your favorite. He needed to sit this one out, even though he protested like a damn child saying he was fine while not being able to stand. When you got back he was asleep in his room so you didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was dreaming about.
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better now that you are here.” He said leaving small kisses on your neck. You tilted your head giving him more access. His kisses would always make you shiver. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, handsome. Are you hungry? I’m making pancakes.”
“I am hungry.” Dean’s hand went on your inner thigh until it reached your panties slowly rubbing you, making you sigh. Cheeky bastard – you thought. “But I don’t want pancakes.” He whispered into your ear. "I love when you wear my clothes.”
“Sleeping.”
You tried to mix flour, eggs and whatever else that was in there but the urge for Dean’s touch grew and you suddenly had another need to fulfill. You turned around to face him, putting your arms around his neck.
“Where’s Sam?” He asked.
“Good.” He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him, making you blush. You pulled his shirt only craving the softness of his lips on yours. Seven long days without him felt like an eternity, especially at night – he was your home, your habit and your sanctuary. You kissed him softly and soon enough he deepened the kiss making you moan. When he stole the last breath from your lungs you broke away, resting your forehead on his.
“Bedroom?” You smiled.
“Hell yeah.”
His clothes hit the floor in seconds. Seven days without each other turned you into horny teenagers. He was only in his boxers laying on the bed looking at you, admiring the view and wondering how the hell he got so lucky. You climbed on top of him as he slowly started to undo your shirt – taking his sweet time savoring you. Infatuated by you, Dean’s eyes spoke louder than words and in that very moment you only existed for him. You kissed him like it was the end of the world, and funny thing was, at one point it was actually the end of the world, so nothing mattered anyways. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care.
Once he exposed you completely, we flipped you over and you were now completely under his control. His hands could kill and yet he was so gentle with you, trying not to break you, even though you wouldn’t mind being broken by him from time to time.
“Dean, don’t tease.” You sigh.
Dean consumed you in every way there was. His lips needed to touch you, to feel you and you were desperate to feel him on your skin. Starting from your neck he kissed you, sucking and slightly biting, leaving light bruises all over. He then moved his lips lower and lower.
You became inpatient, needy and a little bit frustrated. His kisses had you under his spell but you wanted more. He kissed you through your black panties a few times, driving you mad.
You could feel him smirking while resting his lips on the fabric of your soaking underwear.
“Dean!” You blissfully moaned. “ Oh my god!”
“Just a little bit. “ He smirked and then took off your panties. You lifted your legs as he did it. His face went between your legs yet again and now you could only feel his warm tongue on your already wet cunt.
You closed your eyes, surrendering completely.
“Shhhh we don’t want to wake up my brother, don’t we sweetheart?”
“No, but you’re going to kill me.”
The wet sounds of your cunt filled the room as he added one finger first, pumping in and out slowly before adding another. He was aware you were addicted to his thick fingers, always so needy and desperate to have them in your pussy or in your mouth. You gripped the bed sheets as your breaths became heavy, feeling your climax deep in the lower part of your stomach. Before Dean it would take you ages to cum, and you always thought maybe the problem was you and not the other person you were sleeping with. After Dean, you realized that was bullshit and you just had a shitty taste in picking partners.
His name was like a prayer you were reciting over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. The orgasm took over your body completely as you screamed his name one last time before his hand violently covered your mouth.
He got up, face shining from your juices with a smile on his face.
“You’re crazy. Sam’s going to hear you!”
“You are so…” You said, trying to catch your breath.
“Amazing?” He laughed.
“And full of yourself Winchester.” You rolled your eyes, still painting.
“Oh well thank you.” Dean said moving next to you.
“Where is the damn condom?” Dean asked, searching through the drawer of his night stand. You giggled. The man never assumed or expected you to return the favor. Your pleasure was far more important than his own and taking care of you was his job and duty. You loved that about him, you loved being taken care of, but you also loved making him fall apart under you.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Come here.”
He turned to face you. “Huh?”
You kissed him. “My turn.” Dean bit his lip as you rubbed him through his boxers.
“S-shit!” He moaned. “Baby!”
You placed light kisses all over his body before your lips reached the hem of his underwear. You took them off, drooling over his already hard cock. You licked the tip a few times as Dean groaned.
You smiled loving the effect you had on him and then took him in your mouth as much as you could.
His heaven didn’t last long because Sam decided to interrupt the pure bliss of having Dean’s cock in your mouth...yet again.
“Hey Dean can you- AH CRAP.” He said and immediately turned his back allowing you two to cover yourself. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck not again.” You laughed.
You jumped under the covers with Dean. “SAMMY I SWEAR I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”
“I’m sorry.” Sammy said awkwardly, still refusing to turn around. “But I found us a case.”
“I thought you were sleeping.” You said.
“I couldn’t….you were…a little bit…..loud.”
“So you heard her making happy noises IN MY ROOM and you still decided to come in?! WITHOUT KNOCKING? AGAIN?”
“After 10 minutes I thought…you were…finished.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I will wait in the living room.” He then slammed the door.
“I will kill him.” Dean said and got off the bed.
“Wait.” You said pulling his arm. “He can wait. I’m not done with you!”
“I love you. “ Dean said and kissed you again.
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#spn#supernatural fic#spn drabble#spn fanfic#dean winchester#spn fluff#supernatural fluff#spn fic#dean spn#supernatural dean#dean#dean winchester x reader smut#dean Winchester smut#dean x reader#dean smut#dean Winchester fluff#sam
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INNOGEN THE LAPDOG [DOL PC/POI]
You are in an alleyway in the commercial district. You can hear the commotion of the high street, a figure once leaning on a wall straightens up into view. They're young—maybe nineteen—but built solidly under loose, baggy clothing. Their buzz-cut hair is a creamy tone of blonde, it's hard to discern the design slapped on it. You think you've seen them before, but the thought leaves you when they finally look up. The alley’s dim lighting catches on sharp teeth, glinting just slightly as they speak. "Yo," they greet, voice unbothered, almost bored. "Hold up a sec, you free to talk with a stranger?"
⥼║ False name: Innogen (Innoi)
⥼║ Real name: Eógan Ó Beline
⥼║ Pronouns: They/she/he
⥼║ Age: 19 years old
⥼║ Height: 5’8” (172 cm)
⥼║ Role: Lapdog
Innogen is a “questionably” trusted asset of Bailey, working as one of his goons despite being a ward of the orphanage themself. Often found collecting dues from other orphans, loitering around the nursery, or lending added muscle when needed. They attend school and live in the orphanage like you and the rest, but few can say they've actually seen them around. Their face, however, feels oddly familiar—like someone you've seen before but can't quite place.
[ UNLOCKING INNOGEN POI ]
Innogen is an unlockable POI when having an outstanding amount of missed payments owed to Bailey—precisely unlockable if the player has been staying at the orphanage (not other safehouses) and fighting off Bailey and his goons every Sunday. They're an added scale to the challenge of avoiding payment and making money. All first meetings engage into an encounter where the player can either agree to hand over the payment or not. Payment asked is small but will gradually increase with added 'interest' until the missed payments are completely paid for. When declining to pay, Innogen will reaffirm—once again asking, increasing stress. Declining once more, Innogen will leave, ending the encounter with the following line: "Okay, cool. See you at home."
Returning back to the orphanage, the player will find their room completely ransacked—any stored clothes in the wardrobe torn, all (bought) furniture damaged, and the bed hardly damaged but covered in a substance you're not willing to unknowingly touch bare-handed. A note will be posted on the now ruined mirror: on it, a cute cat face—eyes and mouth—is scratched in the middle. The words below are just as messy but readable: "Should have paid him. Hope you weren't attached to any of this."
This increases stress, lowers control, and greatly reduces any positive effects brought furniture could provide. You can either clean the mess, building up fatigue and stress, or simply buy new furniture—though with either choice, your room and items is at risk of being damaged again.
From then on, giving overdue payments to Innogen or Bailey will help lower your missed payments. Continuing to miss your payments, Innogen’s punishments will gradually worsen into more creative methods.
#still in the works but WAHOO!!#I have sm more I want to post about them#innogen the lapdog#dol#dol pc#dol pc art#degrees of lewdity pc#degrees of lewdity#back from the dead#freedommm
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