#rather than an attempt at putting me into the world?

[pochaccoups]

cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)

It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”

You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.

For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?

When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.

“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.

Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)

He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”

“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”

He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.

“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.

“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.

He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.

“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.

“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.

The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.

With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.

“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.

He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.

“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.

Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.

He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.

“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.

“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.

You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.

“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.

“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.

And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.

“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

[universalzones]

"I think they did right after Eggman was beat and he lost his control over the entire world, though I think it was rushed for the most part. I didn't really have time since I was busy blowing up any standing bases, though if I were to guess he might've ran unopposed if no one really heard about it. It would make sense too. I wouldn't be surprised if not many wanted be President with how much work there was to do to get things back in order." The entire planet was a mess from when Eggman has complete control of the world.

"That is a sound theory, and if he has strong ties to G.U.N then I'm sure they wouldn't have had second thoughts about 'convincing' anyone attempted to run against Thawne not to do so." Blaze would turn her focus on the Chaotix. "Perhaps you time might be better looking into this Thawne. I still hold hope that he didn't have any involvement and is intentions are genuine with his concerns."

"Maybe we could simply ask him some questions? I mean, it can't hurt, and he shouldn't have any reason to lie to us. I know this is me being optimistic, though I just hope I'll see the best in people." Belle wasn't really using reasoning rather than feelings with what she just said, though sometimes being kind and direct got answers. Throwing out the idea doesn't hurt anyone either.

"That's... foolish thinking." Kitsunami seemed to want to say something else, though he bite his tongue and softened his words. The fennec actually liked Belle's company so didn't want to be mean to her. "Though it's not like it'll do any harm. The worse that could happen is he deflects or simply refuses to answer. If you want to ask then ask, though I personally think its a waste of time."

===========================================================

"Sounds like you'll miss me being a pain in your ass, which is just weird. Though I guess no one on this team is normal." Surge wasn't good at this, mainly because she simply expected them to shut her out and leave her to face the music solo style. Now they were saying they'll miss her and how she caused problems? Ugh, why does being a good guy have to be so weird.

"...Just take it easy Lanolin. I know you gotta deal with Tangle being Tangle, though you seriously need to relax more. Plans are fine, though if you wanna deal with Eggman you gotta learn to role with the punches and change on a dime. I know it's sucks to be put in a position like that when you gotta lead, though I think it's important." Why was Surge trying to give advice in a situation like this?

"I could dash you where you want to go before heading to the command center. I know a lot of people get stomach sick, though I've got more control now, weirdly enough." Surge actually had a moment to process just how stable her powers were. Made her wonder how tied her emotions were to her powers. Well, not like she'll have time to explore that.

That village, they condemned her the moment they found out who tinker was. It was also ground Zero for the Zombot virus. Of all the people they were hit the hardest. They of course put that blame on poor Belle. Miles couldn't help but feel like it was a sore spot for her, and hoped deep down that she was right. They'd have to contact him, get papers and confirm it all. But he knew it was just as likely even the mayor would turn on her. He'd be there to help her through it regardless--- chaos he hoped she was right.

Miles flipped through his phone as he looked for information on this president. A Name, a birthdate anything he could use to give him a clue about who he was.

" Here we go, President Thawne... first name Luthian... 28 years old, served in GUN from the time he was 18, fought with GUN in the War-- yea right more like cowered in a hole. Not much else here... just lots of photos of him with Abe. Guess they knew each other... still young for a president... did they even do an election i wonder? "

He flipped through the photos and checked his social media but until he could hack in and check things. He could only tell so much.

" Likes his guns, gives to charities, helps out at the local homeless shelter... guy is squeaky clean... like to clean, this feels--- Staged? no angry posts, no joking posts... nothing from before the war... Dunno if this will help us, and its very sus..."

The chameleon didn't seem phased by her decision, and frankly if she knew someone to counter that ability good. But he guessed they'd get involved before it was over. Plus they knew the lay of the land well enough. No point in arguing right now, they'd have time to discuss it later.

" As you wish princess, we'll be here if you need us. "

==========================================

She chuckled at Surge being upset that she wasn't angry, that it might be easier if she was. If anyone was angry it was Sonic, pissed that she wouldn't fight for her freedom. But that wasn't to say Lanolin wasn't feeling emotions. She was, but they were a jumble of sadness and feeling like she failed Surge on some level. She hugged herself and looked down at her feet, just for a moment that stern façade she wore faded away.

" Anger would be easy... i wish i could be angry at you. Yelling would have been so much easier. But i just feel... i'm going to miss you Surge. Even your little outbursts, and raiding the fridge at all hours of the night. Our little arguments about how to handle missions... i'll miss it... "

She said in a softer tone less the commander and more like a friend, even if they had there problems. She saw Surge as more then just a weapon, more then just some soldier.

" But i guess i'm being sappy, and sentimental--- Yes Report to the command center. Get Miles to get your testimony and get it all on tape concerning that day. I have one more stop to make, and then i'll be back at the command center. "

She took a deep breath and let her personal feelings go. She held a hand out to Surge as if to shake her hand.

" It was a pleasure working with you Surge... I hope we one day in the future we can do so again..."

[heartsriki]

FLORAL SANCTUARY ⌇봄의 사랑

pairing ᝰ idol!sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. riki & sunoo | word count: 5.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, tiny bit of angst, mention of Sasaengs, misunderstandings, assault attempt (not from hoon), kissing, reader is a florist.

synopsis — your life is turned upside down when a mysterious customer, later revealed to be sunghoon of ENHYPEN, starts frequenting their shop. As feelings blossom, they must navigate the challenges of love in the spotlight and a world of secrets.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Im not sure if I like this but :( I worked on it for a little bit of time so I might as well post it also don’t talk about me sneaking riki into every fic fr.. OH I hope yall like the bonuses under every fic as well <3 hope you like it enjoy fr!

The start of spring always brought life to the city. The air smelled of fresh blooms, the sun painted the streets in golden light, and your quaint little flower shop buzzed with new energy. Spring meant love was in the air, and for a florist like you, it was prime confession season.

The day, however, had been slower than you’d hoped. The usual flow of familiar faces trickled in—some grabbing pre-made bouquets, others chatting as they browsed. Earlier, a man wearing a mask and a baseball cap had wandered in, keeping to himself as he strolled among the displays. He seemed like the kind of person who was window-shopping rather than buying, so you left him to it, busying yourself with restocking and rearranging.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet rhythm of the shop, and you turned to see a younger guy, probably no older than 18, shuffling inside. He looked nervous, wringing his hands as he approached the counter.

“Uh, hey… What flowers are, like, good for confessing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. This was your favorite kind of customer—the ones looking for the perfect way to say something they couldn’t put into words themselves. “If you’re confessing love, red tulips are a classic,” you said, guiding him toward the vibrant blooms.

His face lit up as he picked a handful, and you wrapped them into a simple but elegant bouquet. As you handed it over, you grinned and said, “Good luck! I hope they say yes.”

“Thanks!” he beamed, waving as he left the shop.

You turned back to the shelves, searching for something to keep you busy when the man in the mask from earlier appeared at the counter. He stood tall, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face obscured by the brim of his cap.

“Can I help you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated like he was working up the courage to speak. “Yeah, uh… I heard you helping that kid, and I was wondering… what flowers are good to give to your mom?”

His voice was deep but soft, and something about it made your chest tighten. You pushed the thought aside and gave a little laugh. “For your mom? Gardenias are perfect—they symbolize love for family. But they’re a bit pricey.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll take one.”

You nodded and stepped away to grab one of the delicate white blooms. As you did, the radio in the corner of the shop switched songs, the upbeat melody of “Moonstruck” by ENHYPEN filling the air. You glanced at the man, noticing how he suddenly stiffened. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the door.

“Here you go,” you said, returning with the flower wrapped in crisp white paper.

But as you held it out to him, he grabbed it hastily and bolted for the door.

“Hey!” you called after him, heart racing as you hurried around the counter. You chased him to the sidewalk, but he was already halfway down the block, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, out of breath, staring after him. “What the actual hell…”

The next day, just as you were finishing up for the evening, you hummed to the soft tune of the radio while sweeping the shop floor. The faint ding of the bell broke the stillness, and you looked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closing,” you explained softly, leaning the broom against the counter.

The man who entered smirked at you, his demeanor casual but confident. “No worries, babe. I wasn’t here for flowers anyway,” he said, slowly stepping toward you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Your number would be a good start,” he said with a cocky smile, reaching out as if to touch your arm.

Before he could make contact, an arm suddenly pulled him back. Startled, you watched as his head snapped toward the figure standing behind him—the man in the mask and baseball cap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the masked man asked, his voice low and commanding.

The cocky man’s confidence vanished in an instant. “Uh—nothing. Sorry!” he stammered before bolting out of the shop, the bell jingling violently as the door slammed behind him.

You huffed, rubbing your arms as you looked at the masked man. “Wow, that was scary. Thanks,” you said, your gaze now focused on him. Something about him caught your attention—his peek of black hair beneath the cap, his smooth voice, his familiar presence.

“Hey… wait!” you exclaimed, realization dawning. “You’re that guy—”

He tensed, hands raised defensively. “Wait, wait!” he interrupted, wincing as you grabbed the broom and swatted him with it.

“Why did you just bolt out of here with my precious flower?” you asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “Something… happened. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and held it out cautiously, still eyeing the broom. “Here, I didn’t pay for the flower. I came back to fix that.”

You took the card skeptically, lowering the broom. He had helped you just now, and honestly, stealing a flower of all things seemed odd for a thief.

Heading back to the counter, you swiped his card and handed it back. “So, did your mom like the flower?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, yes. She loved it,” he said, a shy smile creeping across his face.

You beamed at him, and your mood instantly lifted. “That’s great! I’m glad it worked out.”

The shop fell into a comfortable quiet as he glanced around. The soft glow of the shop’s lights bathed the room in warmth, the scent of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you closing?” he asked after a moment, his voice curious.

You clapped your hands, laughing. “Oh! Yes, I am. I completely forgot!” Quickly, you disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with your bag slung over your shoulder and your apron folded in your hands.

“Follow me,” you said with a wave, walking toward the entrance.

He trailed behind you, watching as you locked the door and tucked your keys into your bag. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a warm light over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked under it.

“Well, this is where I say goodbye. Thanks again for earlier,” you said with a small smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Are you heading home? I could take you.” He gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “I would, but I don’t think it’s smart for a young lady to hop into the car of a man whose name she doesn’t know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. “But you can walk me to the bus stop over there,” you offered, pointing down the street.

His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you began walking side by side, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between you. As you reached the bus stop, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you again for helping me earlier… and for coming back,” you said, your voice soft.

He nodded, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Of course. I guess I owe you for leaving so suddenly yesterday,” he said with a shy laugh.

As your bus approached, he stepped back, the glow of the headlights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Will you be stopping by again?” you asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

You smiled as you stepped onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the bus pulled away, you caught sight of him standing there, watching you leave, the brim of his cap tilted just enough to shield his face from view.

After that day, he started stopping by your shop around closing time more often. At first, it was casual—an excuse to chat or linger in the comforting atmosphere of the flower shop. But soon, it became a routine you secretly looked forward to.

You learned that Park Sunghoon was funny, sly, and much more interesting than he initially let on. He always seemed more curious about you than willing to talk about himself. Every time you tried to ask questions about his life, he’d expertly change the subject, steering the conversation back to you. It bummed you out a little—not knowing much about him—but the way he listened to you and genuinely seemed interested in your stories made it hard to hold it against him.

Tonight was no different. He strolled in just as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the shop aglow with warm, golden light.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs near the counter.

You looked up from the bouquets you were prepping, he wasn't wearing his mask today. “Hey, Sunghoon.”

He leaned against the counter, watching as you worked. His gaze softened as you expertly arranged the blooms into delicate patterns.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You paused, glancing back at him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Flowers help people express feelings they can’t say. I like to express my love and passion through them, and I think the different meanings of each flower are amazing.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darting toward the bouquet you were holding—a mix of pink and red roses. “Yeah? And what do those mean?”

“Blooming love,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to place the bouquet on display.

He gulped, his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” you asked a little too eagerly, stepping closer.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, go somewhere with me? Sometime? When you’re free?”

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m free now.”

His eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “Now? But I… I didn’t dress up or anything…”

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. “Neither did I. It doesn’t matter. You look cute.”

He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

With the shop locked up and the sun lingering just above the horizon, you and Sunghoon walked down the quiet street. The gentle buzz of the city surrounded you, and the scent of flowers still clung to you from the shop.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I figured we’d just wander a bit, see where we end up,” he said with a small smile. “Unless you have a better idea?”

You shook your head, enjoying the spontaneity. “Nope, that works for me.”

As you walked, you found yourselves at a quaint park tucked away from the busy streets. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pink petals floating gently on the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes scanning the scene.

Sunghoon nodded, glancing at you. “Yeah… it is.”

You both settled onto a bench near the pond, where ducks paddled lazily in the water. A food cart nearby caught your attention, and you laughed softly. “Ice cream?”

He followed your gaze and grinned. “Absolutely. Stay here—I’ll get it.”

You watched him jog over to the cart, noticing how relaxed he looked for the first time. When he returned, he handed you a cone with a bashful smile.

“Vanilla,” he said. “I guessed.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, taking a small bite. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The warm light of the setting sun danced on the water, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blossoms around you.

“So, Sunghoon,” you said, breaking the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself, or are you planning to stay mysterious forever?”

He chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just like listening to you talk.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer.”

He hesitated, then turned to meet your eyes. “Someday. I promise.”

“Can't I even see your full face?” You asked nervously.

He looked at you and thought about it. He has known you for a good bit of time now, you don’t seem to know him for who he is, so he took a risk he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He slowly took the baseball cap off and looked at you with caution.

You slowly smiled and him and looked down. “You shouldn’t hide a handsome face like yours, “ you said giggling.

He blinked and felt heat creep up his neck.

He looked at the bush behind the bench and plucked one of the flowers that was on it. “I don’t know what it means but I can tell It suits you,” he said softly, holding up the pink petal and placing it behind your ear.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Thanks.”

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you decided to keep wandering through the park. The cherry blossom trees seemed to create a magical canopy above you, the soft glow of lanterns adding a warm touch to the atmosphere. You noticed Sunghoon stealing glances at you as you walked, but every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, pretending to admire the scenery instead.

As you neared a small outdoor seating area, you spotted a musician setting up his guitar. A small crowd began gathering, and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow.

“Let’s sit and listen for a while,” you suggested.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you found a seat nearby. The musician strummed a few chords before launching into a soft, acoustic rendition of a pop song. You tapped your fingers against your knees, nodding along to the melody.

“You into music much?” Sunghoon asked casually, leaning back against the bench.

You shrugged. “Not really. I don’t keep up with social media or anything, so I don’t know much about what’s trending. I mostly just listen to whatever’s playing on the radio in the shop.”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, then shifted in his seat, suddenly looking a little too interested in the gravel path in front of him. “Oh… really? No social media?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile. “It’s too exhausting to keep up with. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no reason. Just… not many people are like that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. “What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to a lot of music.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Music’s kind of… important to me.”

“Oh? What kind of music do you like?”

Before he could answer, the musician transitioned into a song that made a few people in the crowd cheer. You tilted your head, listening closely. The melody was catchy, but you couldn’t place it.

“I think I’ve heard this one before,” you said thoughtfully. “Isn’t it by that group… what are they called again? En… something?”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. “Enhypen,” he said quickly, his voice a little too steady.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you said, snapping your fingers. “They’re okay, I guess. Some of their songs are nice, but it’s not really my thing.”

He turned to you so fast that you thought he might have hurt his neck. “Okay?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.

You blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, they’re good, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them. Why? Are you a fan or something?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. “I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “You could say I know a lot about them.”

You chuckled, completely unaware of his internal struggle. “Well, that’s cool. I’ve probably heard more of their songs than I realize. You know how it is—songs play everywhere, but you don’t always know who’s singing them.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, looking like he was fighting the urge to say something. Finally, he let out a breath and crossed his arms. “Enhypen is… more than just ‘okay.’”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Wow, you must be a fan. Don’t worry, I’ll give them another chance.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

The musician wrapped up his performance, and the crowd began to disperse. As you stood to leave, Sunghoon glanced at you, his nervous energy from earlier now replaced with quiet amusement.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said as you walked side by side.

“A deal?” you repeated, curious.

He nodded. “Every time we hang out, I’ll show you some songs, and you have to give me your honest opinion. But you have to promise to really listen.”

You smiled at him, enjoying the way his confidence seemed to return. “Deal. But only if you tell me more about yourself in return.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

You and Sunghoon kept going on more and more dates after that first one.

He was always kind and attentive, never pushing boundaries or trying anything beyond the occasional lingering gaze or shy smile. But that’s precisely what started to bother you. You wanted more. You’d made moves to take things further, even inviting him into your apartment after he dropped you off one night. But he’d quickly dismissed himself with a polite excuse.

It honestly made you insecure. Was he just playing with you? Was this something casual for him? You couldn’t help but wonder, especially when he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

Now, on yet another date, Sunghoon seemed even more cautious than usual, glancing over his shoulder constantly, his cap and mask firmly in place despite the intimate setting.

“Hoon,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone as you set down your fork. “What’s up with you?”

You were at a cozy dinner spot, the kind of place where no one batted an eye at couples sharing shy smiles over candlelight. Yet, Sunghoon seemed distant, his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around the room like he was expecting something—or someone.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“We’re at dinner, for God’s sake. Why do you still have the mask on?” You sighed, leaning closer to him. “Seriously, can you just talk to me? What’s going on?”

“Listen, Y/N—” he began, but before he could finish, a loud squeal pierced the air.

You turned toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the blinding flashes of cameras. A group of girls was pointing and taking pictures, their excited chatter growing louder by the second.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened in panic. He grabbed your hand and bolted out the door, pulling you behind him as a crowd of fans followed closely.

“Sunghoon!” you gasped, struggling to keep up. “I can’t run much longer!”

“Just hold on! We’re almost there!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

After weaving through alleys and streets, he led you to a sleek black car parked inconspicuously. He opened the door in a hurry and ushered you inside, quickly jumping in after you. The driver sped off before you even had a chance to process what had just happened.

Out of breath, you turned to look behind you, watching the wave of girls shrink into the distance. Then you shifted your gaze to Sunghoon, who was fixing his disheveled hair.

“What the hell is going on?!” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration.

“Sir, where to?” the driver asked calmly as if this were a normal occurrence.

“Her apartment, please,” Sunghoon replied quickly before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, please… I’ll explain everything when we get there. Just—just give me a chance to explain.”

You pulled your hands away from him as he reached for you, your trust shaken.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. You stared out the window, your thoughts spiraling. What could he possibly be hiding that would explain this?

When you finally reached your apartment, you stormed up the stairs, Sunghoon trailing close behind. You unlocked the door and threw your belongings onto the couch, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Y/N, please listen—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, needing a distraction. The news channel popped up, and you froze when you saw your face on the screen, standing beside Sunghoon.

The headline read: “Park Sunghoon from rising K-pop group ENHYPEN spotted on a date?”

Your head snapped toward him, and his panicked expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, your voice dangerously calm.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No… it’s the truth. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Didn’t want it to change anything? Sunghoon, if you’d told me this from the beginning, I could’ve understood! But instead, you left me in the dark, and made me question everything!”

His face fell, and he knelt in front of you, his voice breaking. “Y/N, you’re not a joke to me. You’re so much more than that. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid you’d treat me differently like everyone else does.”

“Is that what you thought of me? After all the time we’ve spent together, that’s what you got?”

He looked up at you, eyes wide with regret. “No, that’s not—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I think you should leave, Sunghoon.”

The use of his full name hit him like a blow. He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to argue, but the coldness in your expression stopped him.

“Please… just let me make it up to you,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away. “I need time to think this over.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing and walking to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back at you one last time before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The room felt unbearably quiet.

A few hours after the incident with Sunghoon, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, two men in sharp suits stood there, their expressions professional yet apologetic.

“Miss Y/N?” one of them asked, confirming your identity.

“Yes?” you replied cautiously, your grip tightening on the doorframe.

“We’re representatives from Sunghoon’s agency,” the man said. His tone was calm, but the mention of Sunghoon’s name immediately caused your chest to tighten.

“We need to discuss the current situation,” the other man added. “May we come in?”

You hesitated, debating whether to slam the door in their faces or let them speak. Against your better judgment, you stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

The two men sat on your couch, their serious expressions only adding to your unease.

“We’re here to inform you that, due to the recent media coverage and fan activity, it’s in your best interest to lay low for a while,” one of them began. “The situation has escalated, and we’re concerned for your privacy and safety.”

Your heart sank. “Lay low?” you echoed, already dreading where this was going.

“Yes,” the other man confirmed. “The company will compensate you for any financial losses during this time, including your shop’s closure. We’re prepared to cover all expenses until the situation deescalates.”

The mention of your shop caused a lump to form in your throat. “You want me to close my shop?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“It’s only temporary,” the first man assured you. “Once things settle, you can resume your normal routine.”

You nodded numbly, but their words offered no comfort. As the two men stood to leave, they handed you a card with a number to call if you needed anything. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out,” one of them said.

After they left, you shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The shop was more than just a job to you—it was your sanctuary, the place where you felt most at peace. The thought of staying away from it, from the vibrant blooms and quiet hum of your safe space, only added to the ache in your chest.

The weight of everything was suffocating. You’d already lost your connection with Sunghoon, and now you were being forced to step away from the one thing that gave you solace. It felt as though your entire world was unraveling, piece by piece.

As you sat on the couch staring at the card in your hand, tears welled up in your eyes. You didn’t blame Sunghoon for this—not entirely—but the situation had left you feeling isolated and lost.

Two weeks had passed, and there was still no word from Sunghoon. You knew this silence was your own doing—you had asked for space—but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

After the incident, Sunghoon had left long strings of heartfelt messages apologizing, explaining, and pleading for you to hear him out. But after a week of silence from you, the messages stopped. The sudden quiet felt heavier than you anticipated, and you hated how much you longed to see his name pop up on your screen again.

The company still hadn’t given you the green light to reopen your shop, leaving you trapped in an endless cycle of isolation and overthinking. The emptiness weighed on you, and your apartment felt colder than usual.

As you sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your camera roll, your heart tightened when you stumbled upon a photo from your first date with Sunghoon. It was a selfie of you both at the park. You were smiling brightly at the camera while Sunghoon, with his cap, pulled low, was looking at you instead of the lens. You couldn’t help but stare at the image, remembering the butterflies you’d felt that day.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Confused, you got up slowly, not expecting any visitors. When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and a soft, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice calm but nervous.

You looked at the flowers, then back at him. “Hi,” you replied softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Sunghoon entered, turning to face you as you closed the door. Without a word, you walked to the couch and patted the spot beside you, silently asking him to sit. He followed your lead, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before taking a seat next to you.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am,” he began, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m not great at expressing myself, but I need you to know that I never saw you as a joke. I wasn’t messing with you—not ever.”

You nodded, staying quiet as you listened, your eyes focused on him.

“Every time you tried to get closer to me, I… I panicked,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I kept thinking about who I am, about my life and how messy it can get. I was scared—scared that if we got too close, you’d realize how much baggage I carry and leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But I’ve realized something, Y/N. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and your heart swelled. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love he was finally laying bare.

“Hoon…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across your face. Without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and his hands instinctively found their way to your waist. He gazed into your eyes before his gaze dropped to your lips. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and sweet, full of the emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. As the kiss deepened, he gently eased you back onto the couch, his arm bracing him above you while his other hand cupped your cheek.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against your shoulder, holding you close. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Your eyes landed on the bouquet on the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

He lifted his head, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You gestured to the flowers. “What do these mean, Hoon?”

He glanced at them and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I just grabbed all the red ones. I figured they’d all mean love or something.”

You pointed to one in the arrangement. “That one means death, you know.”

His eyes widened in panic. “What?! That’s not what Google said!” He quickly reached for the bouquet, inspecting it frantically.

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. It took him a moment to realize you were teasing him. He groaned, leaning back with a playful glare. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Still laughing, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It was a little funny.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The day before, Sunghoon had been pacing in the practice room, his phone in hand.

“What flowers should I get her?” he muttered, scrolling through countless search results.

“Sunghoon, please, just pick one and go talk to her already,” Sunoo groaned from the couch, watching his friend spiral.

“You don’t get it” Sunghoon snapped. “Flowers are really important to her.”

“Then just get her roses,” Riki chimed in from the corner. “Simple but classic.”

“She deserves more than simple,” Sunghoon mumbled, still fixated on his phone.

“Sunghoon!” Riki and Sunoo yelled in unison, exasperated.

[blubberbuns]

A really crazy question came to me, I imagine this... If Bon the cartoon became conscious out of nowhere, how would the whole group take it?

Hiii these are awesome questions! I'm so glad ya'll want to know more about their lore! So- Bon never gets a consciousness, canonly. But, close enough, Lucky's consciousness is inputted into Frank's (cartoon Frankie) world! For a purpose of course- The higher-ups wanted to test if they could temporarily put a contestant's consciousness into his world, to add some spice to the gameshow! Put them through a 2D video game, in a way! Getting a certain amount of health and if they fuck up, and are killed in Frank's world, they die physically as well.

So, obviously, Lucky was the guinea pig for stuff like this. So he was hooked up, all set and ready, and when his body went into a stage of stasis, on the screen, there popped a chocolate rabbit who looked OH SO similar to a certain scrapped rival character. This was on purpose I'd say, since there were plenty of comments on Lucky's chocolate brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles- even had a bow that resembled rabbit ears.

(please note Lucky is a bit outdated here but point still stands)

How Does Franklin (Monster Frankie) React?:

Not much. If anything he's bummed he's going to get used less if this idea goes through. The most he does is sit by Lucky's physical body and poke it sometimes, though he's very protective of it and will sometimes pet Lucky's limp arm the same way Lucky sometimes pets his ears to keep him relaxed. He'll also try to feed him cereal by pushing it against the screen with his big ass hand- it's sweet

How Does Francis / Frankie (The Other) React?:

Well, he's the one responsible for setting Lucky up in the first place- but when he pops up as Bon- he's cooing about it like "Ohhho now I see what Frank's been on about! Just look at you!" While clasping his hands together and resting his cheek on them- just like "I could just- no I WOULD just eat you up if I could!" Obviously, he'd be in shock for some mere seconds before that, but he'd just find it sweet. I'd say he's the most enthusiastic about it- until he remembers- oh yeah- his Lucky contestant is stuck in there for a few days so all their banter will be from behind a screen. POV Frankie learns about long distance.

How does Frank React?:

Now Frank is the one who was most upset about Bon never getting consciousness- to the point he actively started calling Lucky nothing but Bon when he saw his face. The similarities between them were enough for him to start projecting onto him- trying to pick fights to match that dynamic the nonsentient version of him, and Bon had.

But Lucky isn't exactly the same as Bon. Bon is snarky, sarcastic, high up his own ass, and very particular. He would always feed in deliciously to whatever plot point was thrown at him. Lucky was not the same. Lucky would sometimes jokingly feed into Frank's attempts at headbutting (including actually headbutting with him to start). But overall, when he mellows out, he's a genuine rather soft-spoken guy. Way more conflict-avoidant than Bon ever was. Making the best of his situation even with how- weird it is and how much of a toll the show takes on his mental health. People ARE still dying and he never gets used to that.

Even voice-wise they're different, which makes sense:

Bon is the Grinch because he's more prone to conflict but he can have genuine heartfelt moments, for the majority of the plot he's usually the cynical rival

Lucky is Tramp because he's a soft-spoken, sweet man who's trying to make the best of his situation and is a romantic at heart. Sure he can be rougher around the edges and have playful conflicts with Frank or Franklin, but he is entirely well-meaning and wants connection.

So this just makes that projection so much worse. But it also showcases even further just how different Lucky is from Bon because he doesn't feed into Frank's attempts at a scuffle almost at all. He's not his rival, he's not the guy Frank misses so much. He's not the guy Frank has been "in love with" for so many years. He's Lucky, and it's really the first step in Frank realizing, yeah. You got to look past that similarity and realize you won't make a connection until you accept he's not the person you envision him as! They got a lot of slow-burn stew cooking basically- it's messy and I love it.

[amplexadversary]

I usually find epistolary works really frustrating to read for a variety of reasons, but I have finally signed up for Dracula Daily in hopes that the pseudo-roleplay element makes the format less irritating to me.

[thelostgirl21]

Okay, now that video makes me feel even more uncomfortable with his silence on those issues.

Because, by contrast, I remember this interview:

GAY TIMES: There will be a few homophobic haters out there, people who think a queer storyline is outlandish in a world of basilisks, dopplers and chernobogs. We saw this recently with The Last of Us. Is this something you’re anticipating or are you not entertaining all of that anti-LGBTQ+ tomfoolery?

Joey: In this fandom, there is a very vocal negative space. That vocal negative space is actually the minority, I think. The thing that I’m most concerned about and will do my best to counteract is when discourse becomes bigotry. Then, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. I think I’d log onto Twitter and battle them all off myself. There is going to be inevitable backlash but what we’re doing is worth it.

https://www.gaytimes.com/originals/the-witcher-joey-batey-hugh-skinner-queer-interview/

So, it's unlikely that he's unaware of the presence of those toxic fans, when other co-stars are very aware of it, and ready to state that bigotry directed at others is never okay.

Although, I should mention that this interview (the video you showed) seems to have been done in Season 1 (if we look at the clips they are playing).

And Cavill seems to have understood the question as meaning how does he feel about people seeing his own interpretation of the character in a negative light.

I'd be curious about how he'd answer if someone asked him about it today; while being explicit about them specifically referring to the toxic hatred that has been directed towards the way the female characters have been put front and center on the show, the diversity of the casting choices, and the decision that was made for Jaskier to be portrayed as a "personizer" rather than a "womanizer", so to speak.

Would he still attempt to go "well, you know, people are just passionate about it", or admit that "regardless of how passionate some of those fans may be, bigotry directed at specific groups of people, the cast, etc. like that is never okay."

Because I've met quite a few of those actually passionate fans he's referring to. People that genuinely love and prefer the game - as is their right - and might be sad and upset that Netflix chose to give priority to the books and their own vision / adaptation of the books rather than integrate more lore from the games into it.

They aren't toxic, and they aren't the ones going around bashing minorities and making it some huge morality issue about how the show is not respecting the BOOKS' integrity, and SAPKOWSKI's vision, while clearly defending elements only found in the games (falsely claiming that it belongs to the book), and holding sexist, racist, queerphobic and even ableist remarks.

When we are talking about toxic fans, we are talking about toxic fans. Not passionate and disappointed ones!

Those are two very different categories!

Do toxic fans still have the right to their sexist, racist queerphobic and ableist opinions? Yes. But people that stand against those harmful views have a certain responsibility to clearly state "treating others the way you do is wrong, I don't agree with it, and I'm opposed to it."

And this is where having an influential actor - whose voice is constantly being misused by those toxic fans - remaining silent about it, gets very close to endorsing those views, especially if in the past Cavill has basically said that "it's not toxic, it's just passionate".

Like okay, maybe in Season 1 most were still "just passionate" for the most part, as it hadn't yet been made entirely clear what the direction of the show was going to be (and how much importance Ciri, Yennefer, Francesca, etc. would have in it).

But you've still got that very vocal negative space that has since grown, and that now see Cavill as their "champion of the manosphere", that are absolutely awful online, and feel validated by their Geralt of Rivia's silence.

If you look at 1:28:15, Henry does show support for his main co-star's performances, but he does so by suggesting that their characters tend to be oversimplified. Which is technically okay, because he's entitled to be dissatisfied with the show's writers interpretation of certain characters.

But again, that dissatisfaction is still indirectly suggested rather than stated.

But suggested in such a way where he has the "courtesy" of making his co-stars appear like victims/hostages of a show that is "oversimplifying characters" (a.k.a. failing the source material™), so they can almost be seen like THEY are too afraid to speak out against the "big bads" because they need the money and the job.

So it does sadly make that very vocal negative minority feel validated in their interpretation of Cavill having left because the show was "becoming too woke", etc.

He did also wish Liam Hemsworth well, and the little of what he's ever clearly stated has always praised his co-stars (the main ones, at least).

But, at some point if you've been made aware that you've got the freaking manosphere worshipping you, where does it become your responsibility to say "I know these men interpret my behavior as saying I support their bigoted views and frustrations with the diversity of the cast and the place given to women on the show, but I don't."

The thing also is that, even if he was to say something now , would these people then invent some story about him having been threatened by Netflix with legal actions for standing for his beliefs, etc.?

They've created such a persona for him, that would they even be willing to believe that he's not the alpha male anti-woke dudebro they believe him to be?

But, at the very least, he'd be standing for what's right, rather than looking like he's willing to sell his soul to the devil if that means staying on top.

So, my own personal perception of him?

Somewhere between A and B.

I don't blame him. I don't hate him.

Self-preservation is human.

He's not publicly nor explicitly endorsing those toxic views.

But I can't help but feel like he lacks the courage to do anything against it, because he'd rather prioritize his own popularity and safety above doing the right thing.

Taking a stand against bullies means risking having them turn against you.

And Cavill has often spoken about having been bullied and called "fat Cavill" as a child.

What is sad about that tale, is that the way he says it, you get the sense that instead of having learned to be proud of being fat as a child, and realised that those people were just assholes, he "won" and "showed them" by working and training hard to achieve the standards of physical beauty that those bullies likely held in high regards.

And some people do protect themselves from bullies by allowing them to think that they are on their side (even if they aren't).

As much as he wants to be Superman in real life, I still see him as a child that never outgrew being a victim in a sense, and that will still want to protect himself by avoiding to provoke aggression from bullies directed towards him.

He might secretly agree with certain sexist views of society (A), but I've a feeling that a huge chunk of the issue is closer to (B).

Not because he's got a narcissistic personality disorder per se (he hasn't raised any clear enough red flags for me to diagnose something like that from him), but he would rather have the monsters "on his side", than become the target of their ire, and continue to reap the benefits in terms of them supporting his career.

He's human, not Superman. Humans are messy and scared and sometimes self-serving in the choices they make.

I don't blame him, but I'm not comfortable with the way he's chosen to handle those toxic fans, and I don't support his methods, either.

And even there, all I know from him is the little I've heard and seen in interviews. It's highly likely that his motivations for not saying anything are even more complex than I can imagine.

I've been thinking about The Witcher books and tv show recently. Because half of the things that make Geralt seem cool and edgy in the show just don't exist in the books.

In the show he's always so stoic. Most of his exposition has to be told by side characters implying things and you just have to gage his reaction to decide if it's true or not. In the books however, he gives a full lore dump to anyone who's remotely nice to him.

Random Character: So how've you been?

Show Geralt: Hmmmm.... 😒 😔 😒...

Book Geralt: Terrible actually, thank you for asking. Monster hunting is dying out and I have zero transferable skills. Yennifer's left me again and Jaskier's off god knows where. Overall I suppose it could be worse, but that's the life or a Witcher. Also, my perfectly good leather jacket got ruined in a fight the day after I bought it :(

[notmoreflippingelves]

Every year, I tell myself that I should really consider taking off work for Father Brown premiere day, and then it comes around and I forget to do it, and I spend all day thinking about how I would so much rather be sitting cozy under a million blankets and going back to Kembleford than being forced to do boring work things.

[apotelesmaa]

Objectively yes five pebbles deserves most of the blame for every problem in rain world but I think seven red suns does not get near enough flack for knowing five pebbles wanted nothing more than to end it all, knowing he shared resources with moon, knowing 5P trusted and looked up to him and STILL choosing to send him the information on the very risky plan to die that requires constantly utilizing every drop of water at your disposal and requires complete perfection in execution to avoid giving yourself super turbo mega cancer. & then going Omg I can’t believe five pebbles has done this :( why is he so mad at me now :( my iterator in Christ you literally gave him step by step instructions on how to ruin his life and accidentally kill his sister what did you think was going to happen.

[lambsgod]

maybe kitty wasn't exactly the sort of audience he and his band had had in mind when they'd first set out to make music, but wasn't that what art was all about? touching the souls of those who engaged with it in a way that was both uncontrollable and unexplainable, inspiring some sort of emotion in another that could then color the way they saw the world? it wasn't all stevie's doing, seeing as any band's music was a collaborative effort, but as the lead singer and de facto mouthpiece of the group, she felt a deeper sort of connection to him than any of the others. anyone could sing the lyrics they'd written, but it was his voice specifically she'd latched onto, and as such, she would always put him on a pedestal, elevated to an almost godlike status in her eyes. it was only when she'd parted from him and remained bent over for several tense seconds that she began to second guess her actions, fearing she may have somehow misread the situation and been a bit too hasty in her attempt to bring her letters to life. it was nowhere near as filthy as what she'd written, still rather tame as she was still finding her footing, but the invitation was clear. it was likely only a few seconds before he finally made his way over to her, but they seemed to stretch on for hours, causing her to let out a sigh of relief when she heard him stand up and approach her. that relief was short lived though, quickly turning to anxious butterflies that fluttered in her gut once she felt the bulge of his erection pressed up against her ass and his greedy hands began exploring her pristine flesh, once again filled with uncertainty that threatened to derail her little sex kitten act. the real thing felt a lot different than detailing her desires on paper, a lot more daunting as she was unable to simply put the pen down and walk away when she got too flustered. she couldn't stifle the gasp that slipped out as he slipped her panties down, exposed in a way she'd never been in front of another person, and by that point her nerves had returned full force. his hands on her ass felt good, massaging at her like she was nothing but a toy to use for his own enjoyment, but she worried she might not be able to live up to the sexual being she'd portrayed herself as through her letters. per his demand, kitty had to straighten back up to try and fiddle with the tiny buttons on her blouse, only becoming more flustered and frustrated as she struggled to undo them, and ending up merely lifting the hem and pushing both it and her bra up until the fabric was bunched around her collarbone and she'd revealed her perky tits. she didn’t know how to move in a way that was graceful, or even enticing, finding that enacting her fantasies wasn’t quite so easy as putting them to paper. everything felt fumbled and rushed on her part, clumsy in the way that comes with inexperience, though she hoped he’d chalk her movements up to mere nerves rather than clocking her virginity for what it was. her gaze darted around to try and avoid her reflection in the mirror on her vanity, ending up glancing back at stevie where he remained on his knees behind her. “a-are you… are you going to fuck me?” was she excited at the prospect, or fearful? even kitty herself couldn’t be certain. clearly she wanted him badly, as her letters had proven, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to handle him. with no prior lived experience to inform her understanding of what sex was actually like, whether she’d enjoy it or find that her imagination had oversold the promise of pleasure, she felt lost.

if his music had sparked some kind of confidence within kitty, then surely that meant he had achieved his initial goal when he'd first started putting his scribbled rants to music. maybe it was hard to believe but he truly wasn't in it for the fame, all he'd ever wanted was for his songs to inspire change, whether that be in individuals or society at large. sure, being some sort of sexual awakening for innocent, sheltered girls hadn't been something he'd thought about but it was hard to deny how exciting a prospect it was. she didn't try and pull away as he forced her to grope him, which stevie took as a success. if she needed someone to help guide her then he could offer his services, he might not have known much about a lot of things but sex was somewhat of a speciality. she looked exactly like her namesake, timid and wide-eyed, forcing herself to look at him as he rubbed her hand up and down his growing bulge. with everything she'd written in her letters, it was a safe bet to assume that she wanted more than just to talk, yet stevie still found himself surprised by her sudden bout of confidence as she pulled her hand away and made her away over to her vanity. the sight of her bent over, the fabric of her skirt just barely managing to cover the bottom of her ass, it took all of stevie's strength not to march over there, pull her panties to the side and slam himself inside of her. after months of daydreaming about who the naughty girl sending him such disgusting letters could be, he finally had her in the same room, ready to enact whatever dirty fantasies of hers she wished to bring to life. for a long moment he didn't move, the sight was almost too pretty to disturb and he wanted to admire it for a short while and short it certainly was because after a couple of seconds, his patience dwindled and he slowly stood up and followed after her. positioning himself behind her, stevie pressed his erection to her skirt covered ass and bent over her, big hands skimming up her thighs till he could flip said skirt up and flash her cute little panties. he was torn between taking his time with her and ravishing her then and there, her letters revealed a need for both and both she could get eventually but after waiting for so long, it seemed only right that they get their fill quickly. before she could say anything, stevie dropped to his knees and swiftly pulled her panties down, letting them pool by her ankles as he hungrily kneaded the plush handfuls of her ass cheeks. "get your tits out. i wanna see them in person."

[some-random-fandom-chick]

.

[milla-frenchy]

In the cold night

3k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: being on patrol, Joel and you spend the cold winter night together in a small house

Warnings: 18+ mdni. mention of a past SA attempt (not by Joel), protective!joel, feral!joel saving reader, friends to lovers, one bed, soft!joel, praise kink, masturbation (f), thighs rubbing, oral (f), piv. No age specified

a/n: this is written for @justagalwhowrites 's “Joel Miller birthday celebration”. I chose Jackson!Joel/one bed- Thank you for this event 🙏 Thank you @arcanefox207 for the gif in the mood board ❤️ Please, check out the full gif here and some others, they are stunning 😍 Thank you, Ally 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you as always for beta-ing, baby 💕🫶 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The crunch of your footsteps in the snow echoes in your head. Two rabbits are hanging from Joel’s back, clinging to his shoulder. His brown jacket has lost its shine long, long time ago, and the leather is frayed at the elbows and sleeves. Every time you pass him, the smell of old leather rushes into your nostrils. A reassuring, familiar scent.

You’re heading to an outpost, as you have done so many times before. You know each other's reflexes by heart, the way your bodies tense in case of danger, the glances that make speech useless. You no longer count the number of infected you have killed during patrols.

You look around a small wooden house. Searching for footprints, anything that might put you on alert. You scan the area, whether for infected, or worse- hunters or raiders.

You feel safe with Joel, ever since the day he snatched you from the hands of raiders. Two dirty, skinny men. They surprised you, during one of your first long patrols. They knocked Joel out, and dragged you on an old mattress of the shelter you just arrived at. They did not even pay attention to the dead duck that you planned to eat that evening. In this world, with some men, food is not the first thing they crave. 

You punched one of them, then tried to grab your knife, but two men were too much to handle. When they threw you onto the mattress, you struggled, screaming, biting, then one held your arms while the other removed your pants. Tears obstructed your view. You would have preferred to be bitten by an infected, rather than that. 

Just as the first man was about to lie down between your thighs while you were crying with rage, you heard a dull, cold, unexpected noise. A knife thrown from the opposite side of the room, just stuck in the skull of the man, holding your arms. As soon Joel threw the knife, he rushed to rip the man off your body, and then punched him so many times that his face got swollen from the blows and turned unrecognizable.

“Piece o’shit!” Joel growled from the depths of his chest. You looked at him, still half in shock at what had almost happened to you, feeling relieved. The man was lying on the ground, barely breathing. Joel let go of his collar and retrieved the knife from the second man’s skull. He pressed the tip of the blade against his heart and slowly pushed it in, his dark gaze fixed on the man’s. The raider’s feet twitched for a few moments, before they froze for eternity.

Then Joel rushed over to you and covered you with an old blanket pulled from the foot of the bed. As soon as he sat down on the mattress, his worried eyes fixed on you, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Wanting to forget your fear, to curl up against his reassuring presence. He took you in his arms, rocking you slowly, holding you close to him.

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear them coming, because of my damn bad ear.”

“It’s ok, Joel, it’s ok. They didn’t do anything to me,” you muffled in his chest.

“No it’s not. They did way too much. But I got you, now. I got you. Won’t happen again. Not on my watch.”

He held you against him for several minutes, patiently, one hand caressing your back, the other resting on the nape of your neck, until you stopped crying. He then asked if you were feeling a little better, if he could get the bodies out of the outpost. He didn’t want you to see them anymore. You nodded, watched him as he dragged the bodies out into the surrounding woods. 

He was sitting next to you until you fell asleep. He stood guard all night, staring at the shadows of the trees through the window, letting you rest.

From that day on, you knew that nothing would happen to you as long as you were with Joel. He was the type of man who, when he said something, stuck to it. He was reliable, loyal, and serious. He was your patrol partner, and you couldn't have asked for a better one.

Once you reach the shelter, you prepare the fire in the hearth of the old fireplace, while Joel goes around this old house, half buried under the snow. It is the first time that you patrol here in the middle of winter, and the walls and the ground are icy. You eat one of the rabbits, trying in vain to warm yourself by the fire. As you get ready to go to bed, Joel puts a blanket on the floor.

“What are you doing, Joel? You can't sleep there. You're gonna freeze and die, it’s too cold!”

“There's only one bed, sweetheart. Ain't gonna sleep with you.”

“Of course you're gonna sleep with me. Come on, Joel, don't be silly. We can share the bed, we have to keep each other warm or the next patrol will find our two skeletons in this damn house.”

“Jesus, you’re so stubborn! Alright then.”

You smile, thinking that you had never met someone as stubborn as him, and if he hadn't noticed your slightly blue lips, he probably wouldn't have changed his mind.

You undress and slip under the thin blankets, wearing your t-shirt and panties. Grimacing at the contact with the cold and damp covers. He joins you in the small bed, and even though warmth radiates from his body, your teeth still chatter.

“Christ, you're freezing. C’mere, I’ll keep you warm,” he says, as you take off your t-shirt and he discards his too, leaving only his boxers.

“Told you we had to sleep in the same damn bed… and I'm the stubborn one?”

He chuckles, and takes you in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

“Better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, you’re as warm as a boiler. How is that possible? Icicles are practically falling off these blankets.”

“Alright, you’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?”

You scoff and muffle a laugh, then fall asleep.

You wake up during the night, Joel's light snoring in your ear. His arms are still around you and you're much less cold. His scent surrounds you. You shift slightly, putting the blanket that had slipped back on both of you. The movement makes him mumble in his sleep and you smile, getting ready to fall back asleep, until you feel him twitch against you. His cock, asleep until then, has just woken up in his boxers when your ass brushed against it.

You open your eyes suddenly. It’s been a long time since you felt a body- a hard cock - against you. You try to move away from him a little, to not wake him up, to not create awkwardness between you. But he holds you tighter against him, letting out a sigh of contentment when his cock finds its place against your ass again.

You get a rush of arousal and you're not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep. Your walls are contracting painfully, calling for a release of the pressure from your crotch. You close your eyes, placing your hand under the pillow. Trying to think of something else, until his cock jerks again. Once, twice. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to fall back asleep. 

So you think that maybe, if you do it discreetly, you can make yourself come. Even though he's lying against you, his chest against your back.

You slide your hand south, slowly, so as not to wake him, and start brushing your swollen folds through your panties. But it's not enough. You slide your hand under the hem, finally whirling your clit under your finger. Joel growls against your ear and you freeze for a few moments, until his breathing becomes calm, steady. Gently, you stroke yourself, finally starting to feel the fire in your crotch calm down a little.

You vaguely feel his nose brush your hair, not paying much attention to it, thinking he does it in his sleep. Then you feel his hand slowly slide down your arm, and you jerk, hastily removing your fingers from your panties, realizing that Joel is awake and that he has caught you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he whispers softly in your ear in his sleepy voice, taking your hand and gently bringing it back to your pussy.

You feel the heat reach your cheeks and think about getting up, but you're too ashamed to face him. There had never been any sexual tension between the two of you. You're what you could call friends, in this lost world. You trust each other, he told you about Sarah, you told him about your late husband and son. You trust each other, and honestly, you never thought about him as more than a friend. And you don't want to ruin your friendship.

“I just want you to feel good.”

You stay silent for a few moments. Thinking about what he's telling you. You know he's sincere. 

You feel your clit pulsing and you bite your lip.

“Ok, Joel,” you breathe out. 

You're unsure of what will happen between the two of you after, but you let him lead your hand and slide your fingers under your soaked panties. You're already moaning at the first touch and you feel your nipples hardening. 

Delicately, the tips of his fingers pressed against yours, you let him lead the dance and travel through your folds. Then he slides both your hands into your panties, and makes you touch yourself so delicately, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, that new moans escape you.

“Keep going, Joel, please…”

He hums, grazing your ear with his nose. You hear his breathing deepen, then he presses his forehead against your shoulder blade, still using your finger to brush your clit. You feel your pussy dripping. The fact that he is using your fingers, so perfectly, is perhaps the most sensual thing you have ever done.

You feel his cock stuck in his boxers harden even more as he keeps touching you. You crave to feel him against you, without any fabric between your bodies. You forget your shyness, your reserve, your worries.

“Would you… pull down your boxers? So I can feel you?*

“Of course, sweetheart.” He lets go of your hand to pull down his underwear. His hard cock springs out and this time you feel it fully against you. Big, hard.

“Between my thighs, please…”

He kisses your back and grabs his cock, slides it into this tight space, then comes to rest against your fingers again, in your panties. You slowly move your pelvis back and forth, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

“Christ, sweetheart��� Feeling you against me, like that…”

“I know, Joel. It’s… good, really good.”

You no longer remember your fear that this will change things between you. The feeling is too good, too powerful, to think about anything else.

His shaft slides easily between your thighs, your pussy soaking him continuously.

“You’re so wet for me, baby”, he whispers in your ear, and a new flow trickles from your walls. His free hand caresses your shoulder, then he kisses it. You feel his mustache brush your skin, and your moans fill the room.

“You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck… fuck yeah, I'm gonna come, Joel.”

He keeps playing with your fingers with the same rhythm, feeling that you are close. Your mind goes blank. You only think about the pressure growing inside you, ready to explode.

“Come on baby, be a good girl for me,” he murmurs.

The orgasm washes over you, and you arch your back under its power, your ass pressed against Joel’s crotch. “Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, holding you against him, your hand in his, until your jerks stop.

Your breathing slowly goes down. “Damn”, you say. “That was so hot.”

“It was,” he smiles, kissing your shoulder. He doesn't ask for more, doesn't put any pressure on you, but you need more. You need your bodies to be one. You don't think too much about it, then add quickly, “Joel… I need to…” before shyness overwhelms you again, and he asks softly “tell me, baby. What do you need?”

The soft tone of his voice reassures you, and you add “I need to feel you… I need to feel you inside me.”

“Turn around, sweetheart. Lemme look at you.”

You do as he says, and face him. You barely see his face in the darkness of the night. Just enough to perceive the intensity in his gaze, behind his usual sweetness with you, as he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, of course. Ready to take whatever he wants to give you. His warm lips land on yours and press against them. You hear him take a deep breath, then his nose rubs yours. He kisses you again, with more intensity, and sensations you thought forgotten forever jostle throughout your whole being. His tongue tastes your lips, then slides between them and finds yours. He moans as your hand grabs his shaft softly, wet with his precum and your desire. You jerk him off slowly as you continue to make out. He's big. So big. But you don't wonder if your body can accept it, after all this time. You know it will. And you know Joel will be soft. You nestle his cock at your entrance after pushing your panties aside, murmuring “I wanna feel you,” your forehead against his.

You tilt your pelvis forward and his tip slides inside you, making you hold your breath for a few moments.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah. I just have to… get used to it.” 

He doesn’t move and lets you handle the rhythm. You kiss him again, and you feel your pussy dripping, eager to be filled. You put your hand on the back of his neck and squeeze his bicep with the other, sliding further down his shaft. Your walls spread as you glide on his tip and again, you feel that forgotten feeling. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, nipples tense. Your hand runs through his neck, and you feel his prominent veins under your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, when he is fully inside you. You pull back then push forward again, to reassure his worried eyes on you. You are so wet that the sounds echo in your ears and the whole room. Joel holds you against him, gently, sensually. One hand on your hip, the other on your back.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Can you lie down on me? I'd like to feel you deeper.”

He caresses your cheek and tells you yes, of course.

You lie on your back and he removes your panties, kneeling between your thighs.

And he looks at you, from your face to your cunt. "You're beautiful," he says. His stare stops there, then he glances at you. As if he was asking you silently if he could taste you. You nod and he settles between your thighs, spreading your folds with his fingers.

“You're so wet for me, baby,” he adds, before licking your pussy in a long stroke. Pointing his tongue at your clit, then running over your folds again. Your knees are bent, legs spread as wide as possible. His head moves between your offered thighs, your hands lost in his curls, while his tongue laps at your dripping pussy. He pushes two fingers in your core, and places his lips around your clit, sucking it. Then swirls it under his tongue, while his fingers thrust in at a perfect, regular pace.

“Joel,” you whimper. “I'm gonna come again.”

Your nails tighten on his scalp as you come on his tongue, your walls squeezing uncontrollably around his two fingers. He pulls them out and replaces them with his tongue, drinking in everything that flows from you. The feeling is so strong, forgotten for so long, that you feel like you're going to burst into tears. But he stops, careful not to overwhelm you, and lies down between your thighs. He places his hand on your cheek and searches for your eyes before pushing his tip into you with his other hand, eyes lowered to you.

“Damn sweetheart,” he breathes. “You feel so good around me.”

His words envelop you and lull you. His voice is low, calm, as slow and sweet as the rhythm in which he sinks into you.

All his weight is on you and you have never felt so safe in your entire life. His arms surround you as you kiss. Your hands roam the top of his body. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his cheeks, his neck. His cock slides inside you, pushing your walls in the most perfect way with each thrust. Your knees are spread wide to welcome him between your thighs. He straightens up, leaning on one hand, and looks at you. Looks into your eyes filled with desire.

He watches your neck throbbing. Your chest heaving.

He watches where his cock is digging into you.

“I'm not gonna last. Can you give me one more, baby?”

“Yeah, it's... yes.”

He lies back on you, eyes locked on yours, and slides his arms under your shoulders. Your hot, sweaty chests rub against each other. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he thrusts into you, his shaft rubbing exactly where you need it. Your fingers dig into his flesh as you come on his shaft and he stops moving. Eager to keep watching you twitch beneath him, but trying not to come too. Not yet, not inside you. He wants to let you come until the shaking stops. 

He looks at you, and focuses on a mole, chosen at random. To focus on something else, than your pussy perfectly squeezing him. When your trembling finally stops, he grabs his cock hastily, just in time before his cum coats the inside of your thighs and your lower stomach, then his heavy body rests against yours.

“Christ, sweetheart… that was amazing,” he says, smiling at you. You kiss and then nestle against his chest. You feel his heart beat hard, then gradually calm down. You fall asleep without even realizing it.

When you wake up, it’s daylight. The smell of coffee rushes into your nostrils. For a moment, it’s like life is almost normal.

You sit up in bed, holding the blanket against you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says. Smiling, warm. Joel.

You smile back at him, thinking that you would like to wake up next to him every single day, from now on. 

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[nerdy-novelist017]

The Ride (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 2)

Wow, I truly didn't expect all the love for the last post! Thank you so so much! Here's a part two baked fresh just for you lovelies! ;)

( Also! I'm going to work on putting together a masterlist for my fics for him since I have so many ideas)

Ps. please send me requests for this man i'm going feral over here from all the possibilities

Part 1 here

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 1.9k

-Minor NSFW Content-

Summary- You thought getting on the bike would be the hardest part. Having to unwrap your legs from his waist and get off at the end of the night was significantly more difficult.

*******

Despite the fact that you knew there were multiple people surrounding you, all cheering, your eyes were glued to Benny’s form as he swung a leg over top of his bike. He kickstarted the motorcycle, the muscles in his thigh flexing through the faded pair of jeans he wore. The engine roared to life and it took everything in you not to jump back. Benny glanced over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes all but dared you to run away, to take it back and return to the safety of the car. 

But some underlying competitive streak in you flared and you clenched your fists tightly. You approached his bike and he took your purse and Tupperware bowl, tucking them away in his back compartment. He leaned forward and awkwardly swung a leg over his bike, attempting to repeat his action as you mounted, but the movement caused your dress to slide up to reveal a generous view of your upper thigh. Blushing, you glanced at the onlookers who cheered and whistled at the sight, but Benny seemed to ignore them. Without looking, he reached back, his hand enveloping your thigh, sliding it higher so that your foot found the footrest. Heat instantly blossomed from the contact and you physically resisted clenching your knees tighter around him. 

“Hang on tight, Little Bunny,” he murmured as he moved his hand to grab your arm, gently guiding it forward to wrap around his waist.  He revved the engine and you tighten your grasp over his waist, eyes closed as the bike began to slowly roll forward over the grassy field. The cheers subsided into the wind that tugged gently at your hair. You’re going on an adventure, it seemed to say, but you refused to open your eyes.

Heart drumming in your chest, you hoped to spend the entire ride with your eyes screwed shut, pretending to be anywhere else, anywhere safer. But then the bumpy and uneven field soon turned to smooth blacktop as he maneuvered the two of you onto the backroad. You felt the bike increase in speed slightly and you dared to peek an eye open. Corn fields blurred as you sped by, the setting sun seeming to light the horizon with a brilliant show of deep oranges and purples. A gasp escaped your lips and you pressed yourself closer to him in a desperate measure to not fall off, hands flush against the curve of his abdomen.  

He rode with one hand, you realized, and it painted a picture of a cowboy in your mind. Had this been the 1860s, Benny would have ridden his horse like this, a model of a true outlaw with his dangerous persona and ruggedly handsome appearance.

The world sped by, or rather you sped by the world as Benny drove down the center of the yellow lines. You couldn’t stop the squeal that escaped you as he leaned the bike to go around a turn. He took you down roads you’ve never been before, pointed out interesting things and places you’ve never seen. True to his word, he didn’t go very fast, never faster than the speed limit at least. But regardless, it was an adventure – both frightening and fun and your heart never seemed to return to its slower rhythm. Despite the fact that you've never ridden on a motorcycle before and the uncertainty of your next destination, there was strange sense of safety that invoked you as you breathed in Benny's scent, hands clasped tightly to him. As the sun completely dipped below the horizon and the temperature dropped, he finally asked you where you lived. 

When he did eventually pull up to your house (hours later), the rumble of the motorcycle seemed to echo off the houses, disturbing the peaceful silence of your quiet neighborhood. He cut the engine and the toe of his boot kicked out the kickstand, shifting your combined weights to the side slightly and the air was once again filled with silence. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned back ever so slightly, his head turning to glance back at you over his shoulder.

He held an arm out for you as you awkwardly dismounted, heart pounding again. A strange sense of disappointment panged in your gut as the bottom of your heels made contact with the blacktop. You stood there before him, eyes now level with his as he remained seated casually on his bike. Keep driving, you wanted to tell him. Keep driving and let's find our way to the end of the world together. You wanted to hop back on the back and wrap your arms around his waist. You wanted to ride with him till the sun came up over the horizon, just this once, just because you’ve never stayed out till the sun came up. Your family would worry, your father would be pacing up and down the hallway just inside, but something in you longed to throw caution to the wind, to do something naughty. 

You bit your lip as you broke eye contact with him and looked down to your feet. What were you thinking? You played life by the rules. You were a good girl, that’s what your parents called you. That’s what your teachers called you. That’s what you were raised to be. That’s all you knew how to be, what you were comfortable with. Benny . . . he made you uncomfortable. He filled your belly with butterflies, made your heart pump harder than normal, made the spot between your legs tingle. All things that dangerously threatened to upend the perfectly planned life you had. Trouble, plain and simple.

You got what you wanted – a ride home and a bit of excitement. You got close enough to the fire without getting burned, got to play a risky game for the evening. Now it was time for you to go back to your routine life. That perfectly . . . boring life. 

“Thank you . . . for the ride,” you said softly, the adrenaline of the adventure smothering into ashes. 

He nodded and you watched as his cyan gaze moved from you to your house behind you. “You still live with your family?”

“Yeah,” you replied, heat touching your face. “Why?”

He looked back at you. “Just gotta know what kind of house you want after we’re married.”

“What?” you balked at him, stomach dropping like you just took a plunge off a bridge.

He smiled and leaned an arm forward, resting casually on his bike as if he didn’t just say something shockingly direct. He offered no help, just watched as you attempted to sputter a response.

“M–married? We . . . I don’t . . . even know you.” You breathed out a nervous laugh. You went for one ride with him! You had only had a handful of sentences exchanged between you, the majority of those spoken with a crowd cheering around you. Who did this guy think he was? 

He shrugged as he slid his hands into the front pocket of his jacket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes. “We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

Your eyes widened at his audacity. “I’m not marrying you!”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He looked amused as he flipped open his lighter, the flame casting his face in an orange glow as he lit one of his cigarettes. Your protests wavered slightly as you watched his hands cup around the flame in an effort to protect from the wind and his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the cigarette tucked between his lips. A phantasm of his hands cupping your breasts, his tall frame hovering above you, lips pressing softly against your collarbone tainted your mind and you took a step back to put physical distance between you and this man. 

Swallowing thickly, you continued, “Well, I don’t even know your last name–”

“Cross.”

“–And I don’t even know if I like you!”

“I think you like me,” he said confidently and you snapped your jaw shut at the accusation. “Why else would you let me drive you home?”

“W–what if I just used you to get me home?” you countered quickly. 

“Did you use me, Bunny?” he drew out the sentence with an almost painfully seductive smile. You furrowed your brow, irritation flooding your veins. He was quick, you’d give him that.

Benny studied the way your lips pursed and he wondered if that was something you did while you were angry or if it was your way of finding another excuse. He wanted to spend the rest of his life finding the answers to your facial expressions, the meaning behind your almost undetectable quirks he was discovering with each minute spent in your company. And my god, those those lips . . . his eyes fell down to those soft lips of yours, fascinated by how he wanted to feel them wrapped around his—

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Cross,” your voice brought him back to reality as you reached forward and grabbed your purse and empty Tupperware bowl from his bike. “But I–I have no intentions on marrying you. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever see you again.”

“Hmm, okay,” he feigned being hurt by your words. “Whatever you say, kid.” 

You shot him a frustrated look. “What’s with all the nicknames?”

He held up his arms in mock surrender. “You don’t like ‘em?”

"I don't think they're very accurate."

He raised his brows at you, unconvinced.

“Yeah? Well, I got a nickname for you.” you retorted. 

“And what’s that?” He played along to your game. 

“Trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Mh-hm.” You nodded and lifted your free hand to brush the wind-whipped hair from your eyes.

He shrugged and spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that. You think I’m trouble, Bunny?”

An exasperated sigh left your lips and Benny felt a swell of pride at the reaction. This was fun, teasing you like this. The blush tainting your face, a clear sign of your flustered reaction, made his heartbeat quicken. 

“Goodnight, Benny,” you said a little firmer as you turned and walked up the sidewalk to your house. 

“Goodnight, Bunny,” Benny called out as he watched the sway of your hips as you climbed the front steps. You shot him one last look over the curve of your shoulder before you opened the front door and slipped inside. Benny sat on his bike outside your house, his mind reeling as he finished his cigarette. He hadn’t felt this excited in a long time and hadn't felt this kind of adrenaline since his first ride. This was a new kind of ride, Benny realized. Something exhilarating and arousing gripped his heart when he looked at you in your pretty little dress with your innocently wide eyes and pouty lip. The primal instinct of taking you in his arms and laying you down onto your shared bed, his body shielding you from the rest of the world played in his mind the movie. He wanted to grab your hand and show you just how exciting life could be with him. Not to change you, he’d make sure your integrity was protected, but to broaden your horizon.

And maybe it made him selfish, but Benny's never had anything as good as you in his life and because of that, he wanted to be your guide throughout every adventure going forward.

[mariespen]

Pretty Girl ˚. ୭୧ .˚

daddy issues!reader x rafe cameron .˚ summary: "His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms." warnings: major daddy issues!, very mild mentions of verbal/physical abuse, shared trauma

based on this request!

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The bright ping on your phone shone throughout the dark bedroom like a discreet warning.

You got up to check it, a small and exhausted smile on your face.

Rafe recognized the way your eyes saddened, slowly becoming more droopy and cursing your cheeks as if they were pulling you down with them. He looked at your face like it was a mirror. He watched you try to block every thought out of your head, try to put the phone down and run back into the warm arms of your boyfriend.

“Hey..” Rafe whispered, his voice deep and scratchy from the morning sun.

You let out the smallest sniffle, wiping your eyes and hesitantly putting your phone back down. You turned to him, looking at him like the world was weighing down on your shoulders.

The eye contact made Rafe’s eyes glossy with the reminder that the two of you really weren’t all that different. He couldn’t stand the idea that another man was hurting his little girl.

You let yourself collapse into his arms, feeling them wrap around you and rest on your tense body. He sighed, burying his face into your messy hair and pressing you further into him.

Rafe didn’t need telepathy to know what that text said, he didn’t need anything but his own personal experience, but he wanted to see it word for word. He held you closer, keeping his grip tight as a weak attempt to distract you from his arm reaching over to take your phone from the night stand. He felt lucky when you didn’t stir, just clung onto him in understanding.

He started to open your phone to gain an alternate understanding, but he felt his heart break when you started shaking in his arms. His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms.

“My love..” He whispered, dropping your phone somewhere on the bed and holding you with both arms again.

Your sobs shook your shoulders and he realized that he didn’t need to know what that message said at all. Rafe needed to be next to you, he needed to kiss your tears away, he needed you to look at him with nothing but love and trust.

“Talk to me, princess.” He spoke into your hair, planting an encouraging kiss on the crown of your head.

“Can’t..” You sobbed, clutching tighter onto him.

Sleep clouded your senses, safety replacing the white-hot feeling of dread as he kissed your forehead like you were made of only porcelain and glass rather than the harsh reality of bones and blood.

Rafe woke up with your soft skin pressing into his tense body. It was hard sleeping knowing that your tears stained his chest. You stirred in his arms and he strained his neck down to kiss your cheek gently, pulling back up to relax into the plush pillows.

His hand found its way from the warm confines of your hair and down your neck, stopping at the base of your back. Rafe drew up your shirt just enough to slot his fingers under, scratching your back to the beat of the thoughts in his head.

Reflections and recollections of his father’s angry shouts flooded his mind. Every word attacked him and latched onto him almost the same as they had when he was nothing but a child. He was stronger now, stronger than the words his father spat at him and the fist that same man had thrown at him.

Rafe worked quietly to take hold of your phone again. He didn’t bother reading your father’s small and dismissive texts. On an impulse, Rafe instantly found the block button and deleted his contact. He cleared all of your tabs, feeling a pang of guilt course through him. That quickly disappeared.

The soft shaking of Rafe’s body woke you up. He muttered something but you couldn’t hear the detail of his voice. Instead, you hiked one of your legs up onto his abdomen and let your head bury itself into his side. You gave him a squeeze, emitting a small chuckle from him.

“G’morning, princess.” He said, brushing a hand through your hair as a strong, protective urge blanketed him.

Rafe felt safe when you felt safe. He felt at peace when you did and he felt protected when you felt the same. His happiness was solely in your hands and you were clueless, at least he thought you were.

“Morning..” You yawned into him, starting to fall back asleep in his warm embrace.

Rafe kissed you softly, pulling you upright and brushing the strands of hair away from your face.

“Gotta get up.. important business today.” He said with a higher pitch to his voice that made your heart melt.

You pouted and nodded as Rafe got out of bed and retrieved the outfit he had picked out for you yesterday. He began to get ready, checking on you once and seeing that you were still in bed, slowly falling asleep on your own terms.

Rafe walked over to you, sitting next to you and picking up your head to lay on his lap. His fingers lazily tangled into your hair as he spoke to you.

“C’mon baby, time to get ready.” Rafe’s voice bordered a whisper while he sat you upright again.

“M’kay..” You answered groggily. 

You dramatically got out of bed, a protesting pout shading your face as he chuckled at your stubborn features. The ice of your tired chest broke when he kissed you and warmed your entire body with pastel-red love.

Getting ready was never a chore when Rafe was next to you. His company had never shied away from you and he made sure to attach you to his hip at all times.

“You look gorgeous, princess.” He said, kissing your glossy lips deeply enough to steal some right from your face. He wiped his mouth with a laugh, settling on your forehead. He stooped down to kiss the perch of your face before helping you up.

“Really?” You asked with a bright smile. His eyes softened at your question, noticing a hint of doubt lining your features.

“I’d never lie to you, sweetheart.” He whispered to you, capturing your lips in a quick kiss before pulling away to admire the way blush flares up your face.

You nodded, never being amazing at receiving compliments but you couldn’t deny how his words made your whole heart melt into a puddle inside of your ribs. Rafe pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face.

“You’re my girl, m’always gonna think you’re pretty. Won’t ever give up on you, a’ight?”

Tears brimmed your waterline as he forced you to hold eye contact with his softening eyes.

“I got you, pretty girl.”

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[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[prismkith]

arcane req teehee

any arcane characters you want (women+ please) with a partner that's a little weird/otherworldly. just a bit of a strange person ygwim

“Don't mistake me for the wind when she blows” 

Arcane women with a weird/otherworldly partner!!

Pairings: Caitlyn, Jinx, Vi, Sevika

Caitlyn:

-Finds it absolutely adorable. 

-With all the shit she has to deal with, being an enforcer and detective, and now practically one of the leaders of Piltover, your strange habits and anecdotes help bring color back into her world. 

-Loves coming home from a stressful day of work to find you in your own little world. Her shoulders immediately drop and her face softens, wrapping her arms around you and asking you what you’ve been up to, ready to listen to you go on and on about your strange little adventures.

-Once looked outside her window to see you barefoot with your pants rolled up to your knees, standing ankle-deep in a pond. Eyes closed, face blank and arms crossed just standing there in the water. When she asked you why you were standing dead still in a pond for thirty minutes you just replied “felt stressed” and shrugged your shoulders like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

Vi: 

-Was a little weirded out at first. She didn’t really understand what you were talking about half the time, and definitely labeled you as an airhead before she got to know you.

-Eventually, she began to slightly match your energy. You say some odd shit like “I wish we were two birds so we could sit on a branch together and sing all day” to which she’d reply “Type shit” and nod in agreement. 

-This girl is a WHORE for physical touch, not even sexual touch. Just any contact of your skin on hers. One time you decided to take a nap while she was sitting next to you on the couch, and without saying anything you put your feet on her lap so you could spread out but still be touching her while you slept and she literally melted. Girlie's heart exploded on the spot. 

-Loves to join you on little adventures. One time you asked if she wanted to join you in the woods to look for a really good stick. Like one of those big smooth sticks where you see them and go “damn that’s a nice stick”. She obviously said yes on the spot. 

Jinx: 

-Your twin flame. Absolute soulmates. 

-Didn’t question your quirks ONCE. In fact, she almost out-weirds you sometimes. You walked into her hideout to find her attempting to balance a stack of crackers on her forehead while in her underwear once so needless to say you’ve met your match. 

-Not super huge on physical affection especially at first, but loves it when you do the thing where you lay on her chest but you crawl inside her hoodie/t-shirt so your basically cuddling while connected to the max. 

-You two are never sitting where you should be and everyone else has coined it as “your thing”. Like for example, if you two are hanging out at the last drop you are both sitting on top of the table, rather than in the chairs or on bar stools and everyone just accepts it. You two regularly hang out on the ceiling rafters wherever you are, and If you knew each other before Silco’s death you definitely startled him more than once by doing so. (when he first saw you and Jinx together his first thought was literally “Jesus christ theres two of them”.

Sevika:

-Gonna be totally honest, she thought you were fucking annoying at first. 

-Like to be fair she had to deal with Jinx’s antics for years, so when you came along shawty was drained. 

-Nonetheless, you captured her heart anyway. She doesn't make fun of you per se, but imagine that one meme that goes “Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something we don't know how to hear anymore?” “I just want you to stop saying odd shit”. That's your dynamic. (secretly finds your quirks adorable but would never ever admit it) 

-God forbid anyone else say anything even slightly condescending to you, though. She does NOT play about you, you're literally the light of her life, and as much as she gets sick and tired of your habits, she is the ONLY one allowed to feel that way. Has beaten multiple people to a pulp for saying slightly passive-aggressive things to you. 

-Despite her slightly detached and no-bullshit personality, you know she loves you no matter what. She may not verbalize it much, but the way she shows you off is enough for you to know. Whenever you're out together she always has an arm around your waist or has you sitting on her thigh. Anything to proudly show off and announce that you're hers and only hers.

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A/N: LOVVVVED THIS REQUEST! As a certified "interesting critter" myself i luv a good weird partner headcanon. Also this was my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me TT im still finding my bearings writing for characters lol. constructive criticism always appreciated!!