#really responsible people don’t want one

[highvern]

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists.  Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away. 

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger. 

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too. 

It was fun. 

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on. 

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted. 

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times. 

“What the fuck did he do this time?” 

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?” 

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.” 

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.” 

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call. 

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?” 

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away. 

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences? 

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day. 

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe. 

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic. 

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.” 

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears. 

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.  

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin. 

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge. 

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you. 

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.” 

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza. 

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into. 

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been. 

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go. 

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his. 

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance. 

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much. 

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command. 

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat. 

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers. 

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth. 

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh. 

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does. 

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you. 

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears. 

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh. 

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease. 

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo. 

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask. 

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it. 

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes. 

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.  

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm.  “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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[gf2bellamy]

Hi!!

I’m back with another request because I loved the last one (thank you btw)

Essentially Reader and Spencer are in a secret relationship due to the fact they both work for the BAU. However, someone in the BAU (I don’t really mind who) notices that Spencer starts doing things for Reader that he didn’t do before (carrying around her favourite candies or helping her with her go bag). That person proceeds to try and get a confession out of the two of them/ confront them

hopefully that makes sense, and I apologize if it doesn’t.

Thanks!! 🫶🏻

-B

observation — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: hii B !! thank you for your request <33 I had so much fun writing this i love penelope so much

“Thank you,” you said with a warm smile as you took the coffee from Spencer’s outstretched hand, fingers brushing briefly against his. He had remembered exactly how you liked it, down to the smallest detail, just as he always did. Your gaze flickered down to the other item in his grasp—a familiar, perfectly frosted donut from your favorite bakery. You accepted it with a grateful hum.

“You’re an angel,” you sighed contentedly, sinking your teeth into the soft pastry.

He didn’t say anything at first, just offered you that small, knowing smile, the one that made your chest feel a little lighter. His hazel eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary before he gave a slight nod and turned back toward his desk. 

Across the bullpen, Penelope Garcia perched on the edge of Derek Morgan’s desk, idly twirling a pen between her fingers.

She hadn’t been paying much attention at first—her mind had been occupied with whatever conversation she and Derek had been having—but something about the moment between you and Spencer made her pause. 

It wasn’t unusual for Spencer to do kind things for you; in fact, it had almost become routine. But there was something different this time. Something in the way he looked at you, the way your eyes met his in that brief exchange.

It was subtle—maybe too subtle for most people to notice—but Penelope was observant. And she knew a meaningful glance when she saw one. 

Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head slightly, watching as Spencer settled back at his desk, his posture a little too relaxed, his focus not entirely on the file in front of him. Then she looked back at you—still happily munching on your donut, a barely-there smile lingering on your lips. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Penelope’s eyes widened slightly as realization dawned, but just as quickly as the thought entered her mind, she shook her head, pushing it aside. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe she was reading too much into it. 

Still… she made a mental note to keep an eye on the two of you.

Just in case. 

For now, she turned back to Derek, who was watching her with an amused smirk. 

“Something on your mind, Baby Girl?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Penelope pursed her lips, stealing one last glance at you and Spencer before turning back to Derek with a dramatic sigh. 

“Oh, nothing,” she mused. “Just… observing.” 

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s never just ‘nothing’ with you.” 

Penelope only smirked in response, filing her suspicions away for later. 

The next time Penelope’s curiosity was piqued was when the entire BAU team was making their way to the jet. It wasn’t often that she had to join them on cases, but when her technical expertise was needed in the field, she had no choice but to trade her cozy tech lair for the fast-paced world of profiling. 

As she strolled alongside Derek, chattering about the latest tech upgrades she wanted for her office, something caught her attention. 

Spencer. 

More specifically, Spencer carrying your go-bag. 

Her eyebrows lifted as she watched him adjust the strap over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. You walked beside him, laughing softly at something he had said. He was smiling, too—not the awkward, barely-there smile ,but the warm, comfortable kind. 

Huh. 

Penelope’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. Her eyes were locked on the two of you as you boarded the jet.

And that’s when she nearly lost it. 

Because, oh. Oh. 

You sat down next to Spencer—nothing unusual about that—but the way you did it made her jaw nearly hit the floor. 

Legs touching. No space. At all. 

Not even the usual “oh, it’s a tight fit” kind of situation—there was plenty of room on the jet. But you? You had chosen to sit so close that if one of you so much as moved an inch, you'd basically be in each other’s laps. 

Penelope turned her head slowly, as if to make sure she wasn’t the only one seeing this. But the rest of the team didn’t seem to think anything of it. Emily was already flipping through the case file, Rossi was drinking his coffee, and Hotch, well—Hotch probably knew but was choosing not to acknowledge it. 

She turned back just in time to see Spencer shift slightly, angling his body toward you as he mumbled something. You responded with a soft chuckle, nudging his arm playfully. 

That was it. 

That was the moment Penelope Garcia officially entered investigation mode. 

“Oh, this is interesting,” she murmured to herself, a slow grin spreading across her face. 

Derek, who had been about to sit down, paused mid-motion. “What’s interesting?” 

Penelope shook her head, plastering on her most innocent expression. “Oh, nothing at all, my delicious chocolate thunder,” she cooed, reaching over to pat his cheek. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I know that look, sweetheart. Spill.” 

But Penelope just hummed, settling into her seat with a knowing smirk. 

Oh, she was going to figure this out. 

And when she did? 

Oh, you and Spencer were never going to hear the end of it. 

The next time something happened was a couple days later.

Penelope had seen a lot of things in her time at the BAU—gruesome crime scenes, mind-bending mysteries, and things that made her want to bleach her brain—but this? 

This was something else entirely. 

She had suspicions, of course. She wasn’t the team’s resident gossip queen for nothing. She noticed the little things—the way Spencer always seemed to hover a little too close to you and the way you looked at him like he personally hung the stars.

But this? This was undeniable. 

Garcia had just stepped out of her office, stretching after a long day of staring at computer screens, when she spotted you and Spencer waiting by the elevator. At first, she didn’t think much of it—just two coworkers leaving at the same time. Normal. Totally fine. 

And then she saw it. 

Spencer’s hand. 

On your lower back. 

The casual intimacy of it made her stop in her tracks.

And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be more stunned—he leaned in and kissed your temple. 

Kissed. Your. Temple. 

Before she could even react, the elevator doors slid open, and you both stepped inside, completely oblivious to the fact that Penelope Garcia had just witnessed the biggest secret of the year. 

She stood frozen in the hallway, her mouth slightly open, her mind racing. 

No. No, no, no. She had to be hallucinating. Maybe she had spent too much time staring at screens and was now seeing things. Maybe someone had slipped something into her coffee. 

But no. This was real. 

Her hands flew to her mouth, suppressing the squeal threatening to burst out of her. 

“Oh. My. God,” she whispered to herself, eyes wide with a mix of shock and happiness. 

The entire night, Penelope tossed and turned in bed, her mind racing with one singular thought—How did you and Spencer hide this for so long? 

She prided herself on knowing everything about her team. Not just their work habits, but their favorite coffee orders, their comfort movies, even the ridiculous little quirks that made them who they were.

But somehow, somehow, she had completely missed the fact that Spencer Reid had been in a secret relationship with you—for who knows how long. 

It was unacceptable. 

So, instead of getting a good night’s sleep, she lay awake, replaying every interaction, every inside joke, every moment she had brushed off as just “friendship.”

And now? Now it all made sense. 

By the time morning came, she had given up entirely on rest and got to work earlier than anyone—which, for her, was unheard of. 

Hotch had to do a double-take when he walked into the bullpen, his brows lifting slightly at the sight of Garcia standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. 

He debated asking. 

Then decided, Nope. Not his business. 

With a subtle shake of his head, he continued toward his office. 

Garcia, meanwhile, was waiting like a hunter tracking its prey. She was ready. The moment you and Spencer stepped foot into the bullpen, looking far too relaxed for people harboring a massive secret, she pounced. 

“Finally!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the quiet morning air. 

Both you and Spencer froze mid-step, your expressions instantly shifting into matching looks of confusion. 

“Uh… good morning to you too, Pen?” you said hesitantly, giving her a small smile. 

You walked toward your desk—right across from Spencer’s—placing your bag down and shrugging off your jacket. But before you could settle in, Penelope cut in with a pointed, “You two. We need to have a talk.” 

Spencer blinked. “About what?” 

She scoffed, throwing her arms up. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Doctor Reid.” She turned to you. “And you! I expect this kind of top-secret, under-the-radar stealth mode from him, but you? I thought we were closer than that!” 

You blinked, completely lost. “Penelope, we have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Penelope scoffed again, crossing her arms as she glared at the two of you. “I’m so mad at you,” she huffed. 

“Why?” Spencer asked immediately, concern lacing his voice. His brows furrowed as he glanced between you and Garcia.

Penelope’s glare deepened. “Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you two have been sneaking around behind my back for—who knows how long?! And I had to find out on my own?” 

You felt heat creep up your neck. “We weren’t sneaking—” 

“Oh, please,” she cut you off, waving her hand. “I saw him kiss your temple last night at the elevator! I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, all googly-eyed and disgustingly adorable—and yet, nobody told me? Your best friend?” 

You and Spencer exchanged a look, and even without speaking, you knew you were both thinking the same thing. 

Busted. 

You sighed, rubbing your arm. “Okay, yeah… we’re together.” 

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I knew it!” 

Spencer cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. “But—Garcia, please don’t tell anyone,” he said quickly, adjusting his bag strap. 

Garcia’s mouth fell open in offense. “Excuse me?” 

“Please,” you added, stepping forward with a pleading look. “We just… we wanted to keep it private for now. It’s not that we didn’t want to tell you, we just—we weren’t ready for everyone to know yet.” 

Penelope stared at you both for a long moment, lips pursed, clearly debating whether to accept this explanation or not. 

Then, finally, with a dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone.” 

Spencer let out a relieved breath, and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” 

“But,” she added sharply, pointing a finger between the two of you, “I expect to be the first one to know when you are ready to go public. I want details, I want stories, I want all the romantic fluff I was robbed of for—how long?” 

You bit your lip. “…Almost a year.” 

Her jaw dropped. “A Year?!” 

You winced. “Uh… surprise?” 

Garcia groaned, throwing her head back. “I cannot believe I missed an entire year of cuteness. This is a disaster.” 

Spencer shifted awkwardly. “Well, statistically speaking, keeping a secret this long in a workplace environment is actually quite rare—” 

“Oh, don’t you dare start throwing statistics at me, Doctor Love,” Garcia interrupted, narrowing her eyes. Then, her face softened as she let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, you two are so lucky I love you.” 

You grinned. “We really are.” 

Garcia huffed but smiled anyway. “Now go, before I change my mind and announce it to everyone.” 

You and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. With one last grateful look at her, you turned to head toward your desks, your shoulders brushing as you walked. 

Garcia watched you go, shaking her head with an affectionate smile.

[neeeooon]

Hey can you do bllk boys reacting to an extremely introverted and shy reader confessing to them?

ofc!! thank you for the request, i hope you enjoy! 🤍

confessing to them ;

blue lock x extremely shy gn!reader

isagi yoichi

-> after school, instead of going home to study like you’re supposed to, you often find yourself sitting alone to watch the soccer players (isagi). he catches you watching sometimes and even tried talking to you once, but you ran off before he had the chance

-> finally, one winter, you’re walking home when you notice isagi kicking a ball around the frost-covered court. since it was the day before break, you pulled every ounce of courage you had to the surface and approached him

-> “oh? hi, y/n.” and you lost your train of though because he knew your name? “hi. what, uh, why are you out here in the cold?”

-> you spend the next hour kicking the ball around and talking together. it’s so surreal for you to feel comfortable around another person, and by the time your little game comes to an end, you find yourself saying, “you don’t have to say anything, but i have a crush on you…”

-> isagi isn’t exactly surprised, considering he’s seen you silently cheering him on at almost every practice, but he still blushes. “i can give you my number?” “yes! i mean, yes, please.”

michael kaiser

-> kaiser doesn’t usually have patience for people who waste his time, but he doesn’t see your anxious fidgeting and stammering as bothersome. he’ll gladly wait for you to put your thoughts together, his cheek in his hand

-> one day was different, because when you approached him with your fingers nervously knotted together, you weren’t smiling. “i need to talk to you… if that’s okay?”

-> he lets you pull him to a more secluded area, where you rub your hands together in an attempt to calm yourself down. kaiser can’t stop himself from grabbing your hands after a moment and holding them between his to catch your gaze. “take a breath. what is it you want to tell me?”

-> “i like you,” you blurted as your face immediately turned red. “i’m sorry! that wasn’t supposed to be so aggressive—“ “i like you too, y/n.” “…… me y/n?”

bachira meguru

-> bachira was the closest person to a friend you ever had

-> you really struggled to talk to people, so when a boy with a loud laugh and pretty smile asked you to partner up with him for a project, you were enamored

-> it was white day, and after years of following bachira around, you finally worked up the nerve to confess to him. you were too shy to say the words, so you spent the entire night before writing your feelings down in a letter and stuffing it in a package of presents

-> before class, you snuck the present into bachira’s desk. it wasn’t until the final bell rang that you realized you forgot to sign your name

-> panicked, you rushed to retrieve the gift, only to run into a grinning bachira. “y/n! i got your gift. so you really like me, huh?” you weren’t expecting to face him and immediately wanted to crawl into your jumper and die

-> “i, um…” “i got this for you!” and he hands you his own white day gift, which is a drawing of the two of you holding hands. “you’re cute when you blush. we should go on a date!”

itoshi sae

-> you were part of an exchange program for school and got to visit spain for an entire month. since your school was next to the prestigious soccer academy (which was also full of foreigners), your class got to watch them practice

-> sae always seemed so bored and disinterested to the point where you never even saw him smile. still, there something about him that made you want to talk to him, and that scared you since you weren’t sure how

-> desperate, you turned to the internet. how to tell a guy who doesn’t know you exist that you like him? surprisingly, there were quite a bit of responses from people in similar situations. you decided to go with the top-rated comment: make him food

-> that’s how you ended up in the practice arena at 4 am. you weren’t expecting anyone to be there that early. you were wrong to assume sae practiced like a normal person

-> “what are you doing in here?” “oh! sae! i, um… here.” and you practically throw the cookies you baked at him before he can react. you wrote a note, and he’s able to read it and catch up to you before you’re able to run away.

-> “no one’s ever…” he pauses, and your surprised to see that he’s blushing. that he’s just as shy as you. “have you eaten breakfast yet? i know a place nearby if you’re hungry..?” “that’d be nice..!” “cool.” “cool :)”

mikage reo

-> you got a summer internship at mikage corp, where you occasionally ran into the future heir, reo

-> you didn’t mean to develop a crush on him, but he was the only one who ever acknowledged you. maybe it’s because you were one of the only other young people, but he’d always smile and wave when he passed you

-> little do you know that reo finds you utterly adorable. the way you awkwardly return his smile or wave, or how you stammer over your words when he greets you by name. he had a whole plan to ask you out, but to his surprise, you beat him to it

-> you were wringing your hands out anxiously as you waited for reo by one of the meeting rooms. when you saw him you paled, but it was too late to turn back. “y/n, hey! are you free late—“ “ireallylikeyouandthinkweshouldgetcoffeesometimeifyourefree—wait, what?”

barou shouei

-> you didn’t understand why more students weren’t fascinated by barou, the self-proclaimed “king”

-> you were always too shy to say anything when you passed each other, but you couldn’t stop yourself from going to his games to watch him play. you didn’t think he noticed

-> you missed two days of school and one of barou’s games when you got sick, and when you returned, he was waiting for you before practice. “i didn’t see you at the game.”

-> “whaaa, me?” you manage, and he nods. “yes, you. the one who always comes to my games. where were you?” “sick.” “sick?” “yeah.. you know who i am?” “well, not your name, but i’m not an idiot. why do you come, anyway?”

-> you think, screw it! since you don’t know when you’ll get the chance again. shuffling on your feet and unable to meet his eyes, you say, “i like you… i mean, watching you! play soccer! not in a creepy way, just that you’re really good, and—“ “i’m barou.” “i know. i mean i’m y/n!”

[honourablejester]

Okay. Last response, because I agree this is getting long, and I can see we’re going to have to agree to disagree.

Primary thing:

I only really do think that religion shall only be portrayed as force of evil.

That is censorship. That is the exact same logic as the Hays Code. The thing you view as immoral shall not be portrayed as anything but immoral. That’s the Hays Code. That is literally censorship. Which aside from being always dangerous, also doesn’t work. I do understand, particularly right now, when a fundamentalist Christian nation piloted by a psychotic idiot and his nazi friends might be threatening to bomb the world, that the extremes of religion are be terrifying, but censorship doesn’t stop that. It only feeds it. It creates an aura of martyrdom and persecution around the idea of religion that only draws people in and hardens their views. If you advocate for all media to tell these people, and not even just fundamentalists, but any one of the billions of people worldwide who are religious, which for most of history has been a large majority of humanity, that they are hated and scorned and considered evil, no exceptions, all that will do is create trauma and fear and even more hatred of everyone not like them. Censorship does nothing except isolate people, harden the lines, and enshrine violence and persecution.

Because it is, also, actual religious persecution as well. Only people who believe as you believe are correct, everyone else is evil, and can only be portrayed as evil. And that, of course, historically never went anywhere bad either. For a specific atheist-on-religious example, see the history of the Soviet Union.

I do get it. Like I said, as will be clear from where I draw the line between real and unreal in the rest of the post, I am actually broadly atheist myself. I am from Ireland, a country where as recently as twenty years ago religiously inspired sectarian violence caused the bombing deaths of a lot of people, where colonisation was partially justified on religious grounds, where part of the country is still colonised, hence said sectarian violence and religiously-inspired bombings. And even saying that is already a loaded and potentially violent statement. I understand that religion can be used for truly terrifying things.

But the same is true of every human divide. Nationality. Rationality. And you don’t solve any of that by picking which bits you want to ban and never see discussed again. There is no quick fix. There is no way to make it go away. Religion has been a part of human experience for as long as there have been people, and it does good things as well as bad. It provides community, it provides resources, it provides comfort. And yes, all of those things have costs, and sometimes terrible ones, the missions had horrific results, but so does every other large scale human system that divides people into categories. See also nation states. See also economic systems. There is no way to just go … ‘If only everyone thought exactly as I thought, there would be a utopia’. Because that in itself only recognises as good the people who think exactly like you. That’s an expression of the exact same desire that every other … well. Religion, nation state and dictatorship. All that says is that you’re hoping it’ll swing around and you’ll be the boot this time.

Censorship is not ever the answer, and no blanket statement that such-and-such a category is evil is ever a) true or b) helpful.

Which is why we have fantasy fiction where sometimes it is easier. Where the problem can be solved by shooting a fictional nazi in the face or stabbing a fictional demon. Because in the real world those don’t work, but it’s nice to fantasise sometimes.

So long as we keep in mind that in the real world it doesn’t work, that in the real world it’s hard and horrible and messy and never as easy or morally clear-cut as we would like, then let fiction do whatever it needs to do, and provide a vent, provide an exploration, provide a representation, or just provide a quick cathartic fantasy.

kind of concerning how married the fantasy genre is to "crusades as a basically good thing"

[jiminomenon]

assistant! reader ignoring model! karina after a fight

pairing: model! karina x female assistant! reader

word count: 942

summary: after a heated argument, y/n had enough of jimin’s antics and decided to ignore her completely. at first, jimin didn’t care—or at least, that’s what she told herself. but as the silence stretched on, frustration turned into something she didn’t want to acknowledge. jimin never apologized—she never had to. but for y/n? she just might make an exception.

from my series: the devil wears prada

jimin had never been good at saying sorry.

in fact, she rarely ever had to. apologies were for people who made mistakes, and as far as she was concerned, she was never wrong. people always bent to her will, never the other way around.

but this? this was unbearable.

it all started earlier that day, when jimin, in all her bratty, self-important glory, had snapped at y/n in front of an entire room of people.

the day had been chaotic—photoshoots, fittings, meetings with designers—and jimin had been running on nothing but black coffee, four hours of sleep, and sheer irritation.

y/n, ever the responsible assistant, had tried to remind her of a scheduling conflict, something about overlapping appointments and the need to reschedule one of them. but jimin, already overwhelmed and not in the mood to be nagged, had brushed her off.

no—brushed off was too soft. she had outright snapped.

“oh my god, y/n, just shut up for a second and let me think!”

the room had gone silent.

the stylists, the makeup artists, even the photographer—everyone had turned their heads, the tension so thick it was suffocating. jimin, in her frustration, hadn’t thought much of it at the time. she had simply turned back to her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the outfit she was wearing like nothing had happened.

but y/n’s expression had flickered, lips pressed together as she inhaled slowly through her nose. she hadn’t said a word in response. instead, she had simply nodded, composed and professional as ever, before quietly stepping away.

jimin should have known then.

should have known that y/n was really mad.

and now, hours later, as they sat in jimin’s penthouse, jimin was suffering the consequences.

y/n was ignoring her.

not in the petty, passive-aggressive way that most people did, where they sighed dramatically and stomped around to make a point. no, y/n was doing it with precision. calculated indifference.

she still did her job—setting down jimin’s evening tea, organizing her schedule, responding to emails. but she did it all without a single glance in jimin’s direction.

no sarcastic remarks, no witty comebacks, not even an exasperated “jimin, please.”

just silence.

jimin hated it.

she was used to being the center of attention, used to people doting on her, catering to her every whim. even when she and y/n did fight, it never lasted long because, inevitably, jimin would do something to annoy her into speaking again.

but this? this was like being invisible.

and jimin hated being invisible.

finally, she snapped.

“are you seriously still mad?” jimin demanded from her spot on the couch.

silence.

y/n didn’t even look up from her tablet, fingers tapping away like jimin hadn’t spoken at all.

jimin narrowed her eyes. “y/n.”

nothing.

she huffed, draping herself over the armrest dramatically. “come on,” she groaned. “you’re acting like a child.”

y/n continued scrolling.

jimin was starting to lose patience.

“y/n, i swear, if you keep this up, i’ll—”

y/n suddenly stood, grabbing the empty teacup from the coffee table before turning towards the kitchen, still not acknowledging jimin.

jimin scoffed. “oh my god. you do realize you work for me, right? ignoring me isn’t exactly part of your job description.”

silence.

y/n rinsed the cup under the sink.

jimin followed her, stopping at the counter.

“so that’s it? you’re just going to act like i don’t exist?” jimin pressed, crossing her arms.

y/n continued drying the cup, her expression unreadable.

jimin tapped her fingers against the counter impatiently. “y/n.”

y/n set the cup down.

“y/n,” jimin repeated, her voice a little softer this time.

nothing.

the frustration bubbling inside her started shifting into something else. something… unfamiliar.

jimin sighed, shifting her weight. “look.” she rubbed her arm, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically awkward. she averted her eyes before forcing herself to meet y/n’s gaze.

“i guess—i might’ve—been a little…” she grimaced, struggling to force the words out. “harsh earlier.”

y/n raised an eyebrow.

jimin exhaled sharply. “ugh, fine,” she relented. “i was rude. there. i said it.”

y/n remained unimpressed.

jimin clenched her jaw. “what more do you want?”

y/n sighed, finally setting the towel down. “i just don’t get why you have to be like that sometimes.”

jimin frowned. “like what?”

“mean,” y/n deadpanned. “you treat people like they’re disposable when you’re stressed out. i get that you have a lot on your plate, but i’m not your punching bag, jimin.”

jimin opened her mouth to argue but promptly shut it when she realized… y/n wasn’t wrong.

and that was a hard pill to swallow.

she scowled, rubbing the back of her neck. “i didn’t mean to snap at you.”

y/n tilted her head. “then why did you?”

jimin hesitated.

she wasn’t used to admitting when she was wrong.

she wasn’t used to… this.

after a long pause, she sighed heavily. “because i was frustrated,” she muttered.

y/n blinked, taken aback by the rare moment of honesty.

jimin clicked her tongue. “but i shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

y/n crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “you think?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “don’t push it.”

y/n smirked. “i dunno, i think i should push it. this is the first time i’ve seen you be considerate.”

jimin scoffed. “shut up.”

y/n laughed, shaking her head before stepping away.

jimin watched her go, feeling… lighter.

she still hated apologizing.

she still hated admitting she was wrong.

but for y/n?

she supposed she could make an exception.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can’t be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I have no chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning comes too soon as you toss and turn through the night. You drag yourself out of bed and wrap yourself in your housecoat before braving the cold floors of the house. It isn’t a big place but it traps draughts like a tundra cavern.

You put on a pot of coffee to brew and go through your typical routine. That day is different as you listen for Eva. You told yourself last night, you’re going to lay off. You’re going to let her figure herself out.

As you take a jar of prepared overnight oats out of the fridge and fish out a protein bar for the mid-afternoon, you hear your sister sniff. She yawns as she enters. To your surprise and relief, she dressed, presentably so. She leans on the other side of the counter and flicks her lashes.

“Coffee?” She asks, sounding only a bit desperate.

“Some left,” you confirm.

She grumbles and comes around to get her own mug and pours with another yawn. You could say it. I told you so. I told you not to stay out late for your first day. At least she’s awake.

“Good luck,” you say as you zip up your small lunch bag.

“Right,” she turns and leans on the granite and blows over the mug. You peek over your shoulder as she narrows her eyes. “How did you find me last night?”

You withhold a sigh. You don’t want to argue. You don’t need her walking into her first day in a mood.

“Eva, we can talk later.”

She’s quiet, “really? You’re tracking me?”

You grab your mug, “I really need to get ready.”

“Sure,” she scoffs.

Silence roils and you make yourself face her. “I deleted it last night, okay? I meant it. You’re an adult. You’re going to do what you’re going to do.”

“You still did that,” she says.

“I did and I’m sorry,” you admit. “I won’t make excuses. We can’t keep doing this.” You chew your lip and tap your fingers on the porcelain cup, “I just hope this works out. It’ll be nice for you to have some extra cash.”

“Sure,” she shrugs.

You leave it. She’s going to simmer for a while. In her shoes, you would too. You take your coffee into the bathroom and put it on the counter. As you open the mirror to grab your face cleanser, you wince. You blow through your lips as you shut the reflective door.

You put the bottle down and untie your house coat. You roll up your camisole and cringe. You gently touch the tender spot along your ribs. It's bruised pretty good. The bone hurts too but you’re not too worried about a break.

You shudder and ignore the soreness as you go through the steps. Cleanse, moisturise, tone. Brush your teeth, figure out your hair. Then only a swipe of mascara, a tint of lip stain, and a subtle kiss from your blush stick. Natural but something. You were never one for the whole primer to highlighter parade.

You put on a striped blue blouse and a pair of grey herringbone pants. You spritz a bit of jasmine body spray over yourself then go to get your lunch and purse. You step into your leather loafers and shrug on your beige jacket.

“Eva, am I driving you?” You call down.

“Coming,” she scuffles around unseen before she appears.

If she isn’t in the best mood, she does look her best. She’s added a rosegold chain to her skirt and sweater combo, and a pair of slingback kitten heels, some earrings, and her face and hair are just perfectly done. Not too much, not too little. Her freckles peek through and give her a little extra character.

“Wow, you look nice,” you praise.

“Really? You look dead inside,” she snickers.

You’re relieved that she’s joking. You take it with a shrug, “Time of death, I’d say ten years ago.” She rolls her eyes, “you bring something to eat?”

“Nah, I looked up the place. It’s near Sage. I’ll go there.”

“Okay,” you accept. You’re not sure where she got the money to do so. You eat in chronically but she’s always out with her friends getting all the fancy lattes and fusions.

You head out, not used to the company. It's about time she got something going. She worked at the dentist office for a summer in high school but she hated her boss. You told her that she probably always will. Lord knows you’re no fan of yours.

“No pressure, but try to make this one work, Eva,” you say. “I called in a favour for it.”

“I know,” she snips. “You don’t need to remind me. I didn’t ask, you know?”

“I’m not—I just—I only want the best,” you resign. “I shouldn’t project. I know you will do wonderfully.”

She blows a raspberry, “alright, cheesy.”

You steer along the usual route. Her building is only a block from yours. You drop her off like you would outside school. Her teen years were rough. For you, but not her. After you left her with your mom, you made sure she got to graduation. You feel like you owe her so much more for abandoning her for so long. If you hadn’t though, would you be here? Would you be able to get her out at all?

You continue down to your office building. There’s a loud rumble behind you. A motorcycle. You hate the things. They remind you of someone you’d rather not think of. Not to mention they’re noisy and put out pollution like crazy.

You flip on your blinker as the early morning rider skims past you. Your parking past dangles from the rear view as you find a spot in the grid. You gather up your things and ready yourself for another day.

You march inside and opt for the stairs. You try to skip the elevator at least three times a week. Your job keeps you idle far too much. Even with a standing desk. As you climb, your breath picks up and the bruise on your side throbs. You should’ve popped some advil.

You get to your floor and get yourself set up. You raise the desk and straighten the standing mat. You sign into your station and start down the new list of orders. As you ease into the morning, others arrive and groggily do the same.

Your fingers skitter over the keyboard in a flurry. As you send another request to the mail dock, a shadow appears in your peripheral. Mr. Walker leans the corner of your desk. For a moment, you wonder if he has a brother or cousin that likes to troll the bars for young girls.

Your boss puts his other hand on his hip. Even with your desk raised, he dwarfs it with his size. You pause your typing and look at him.

“Morning, Mr. Walker,” you say.

“Morning,” he returns. “I didn’t even see you here, hiding.”

That’s the problem. Standing, sitting, no one notices you behind the double monitors.

“Big day, huh?” He asks.

You stare at him, confused for a moment.

“Yeah, Hansen was saying your sister starts today?”

“Right, uh, yeah,” you affirm. “Thanks, again. I really appreciated the referral.”

“You’re a hard worker,” he says.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hansen is a bit of a hard ass. I should’ve warned you.” He adds.

You nearly blurt out your first thought; look who’s talking.

“I’m sure she’ll do fine, she is your sister,” he remarks as his fingers curl around the corner of the desk. “Really kind of you to take her in.”

You don’t think you’ve ever spoken so much to Walker. Not since you asked him to put in a good word for Eva. Even then, he kept to his short replies and grunts.

“She’s family,” you say.

“Sure, but... I don’t know. Thought you would already have one of those,” he replies. You tweak a brow. “Kids, husband? I always sort of assumed...”

“A woman my age, yeah.”

“I wouldn’t... no, not because of that, I just... you’re very responsible.”

“Thank you, sir,” you shift on your soles. “I was just getting started on that Lafayette order.”

“Mmmm,” he hums and tilts his head. He drags his hand down his tie. He’s a big man. Most people are compared to you but he’s gargantuan. “Always working hard.”

“Yes, sir,” you look at your screen and click on the spreadsheet, changing the cell colour of the last completed order.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need from me,” he slaps the corner of your desk then struts off.

You stay focused on your screens. That was strange but you’re not stupid. He’s reminding you of his favour. He wants you to remember that you owe him. You’re sure you’ll be picking up overtime to pay him back.

Work rolls on. Dull, repetitive, but it pays the bills. You eat your oats at your desk as you make your way through the daily rota. You can’t help but notice Mr. Walker’s frequent trips to the break room. It tempts you to grab a coffee yourself as your eyes burn but you resist. You're trying to cut back on caffeine.

When the day ends, your protein bar sits beside the base of your monitor. You’re hungry but you can wait for supper. You sign off and lock your desk. You check your phone. No messages from Eva. Is that good or bad?

As you come into the overcast afternoon, the day weighs in your shoulders and hips. All day you can’t wait to be done but by the time you’re free, you’re exhausted. You dig out your keys and traipse along the row of bumpers to your car.

You hit the button to unlock the Honda and the roar of a motorcycle tears through the air. To your surprise, it only gets louder. You have the door open as its shadow rolls up behind your car. You throw your bags into the passenger seat and ignore it. That is until, the engine quiets and the steel beast doesn’t move from behind your vehicle.

Don’t tell me Eva hopped on someone’s bike. She would. A final act of rebellion before she surrenders to corporate purgatory. You look over, further disappointed by what really awaits you.

The man in leather undoes his helmet, vintage without a visor or anything. He tucks it under his arm and slides off his sunglasses. You recognise him. That’s not good.

His jacket is zipped to his chin but you’re certain that gold medallion hangs against his chest. It’s the same man as the night before. The one that was a little too late. How did he find you?

You shake your head and dip into the driver’s seat. Before you can close the door, his gloved hand is on it. He keeps it open as he steps up. You sigh.

“Sir, would you kindly move your bike?” You drone as you ram your keys into the ignition.

“Hey, doll, just wanna talk,” he says.

“I have somewhere to be,” you reach for the door and he steps closer, inserting himself so you couln’t close if you try.

You keep your eyes aimed at the windshield. Your other hand reaches for your purse. He clucks.

"Now, you don't gotta go calling anyone. Got a few buddies on the force I wouldn't mind catching up with but I'm being good," he steps back and shows his palms. "Just curious."

"I said I'm on my way somewhere--" you begin and grip the wheel.

"To get your daughter? You're a good mom--"

You stay silent. There's not much you can say that won't make this worse. It's none of your business. Piss off. A few choice epithets.

You search the brick wall ahead of you. Your heart beats faster and faster. No matter how you avoid men, they make themselves a problem.

You grab the shifter and crank it. You hit the gas and jerk backwards. You hit his bike and it crashes with a clatter. He let's go of the door as the door jars him.

"The fuck?" He exclaims.

You have just enough room to turn through the empty spot next to you. It's a deep spin of the wheel but you manage to redirect and roll past his bike.

As you swerve around and set the car straight, you glance over. He rubs his shoulder as he watches you, approaching his overturned bike with stunned steps. To your surprise, there's a big grin across his face.

Shit.

You stomp the pedal and tear out of the lot. You don't look as you turn into traffic and you squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. What the fuck!

[mydearestbeloved]

Omg lol’ed at adam being the unwilling third-wheel in the middle of jinwoo and tp!reader’s  public display of “trust” 😭. No it’s just pure satisfying to see jinwoo trust and need someone presence that much. Tp!reader is his rock frfrfr 🥺 and tbh this only makes me sad to see how “alone” canon jinwoo is, so much so that he can’t really open himself up to people he cares about problems he has to deal with (and yes, even in sl ragnarok. Like even suho called him a “deadbeat dad” due to his communication issue 😭). Anyway, tp!jinwoo is so cute when he relies on tp!reader and OMG pointing and laughing at his cringe fail moment at the end. (still love you pookie 🥰)

Okay, but i kinda scratched my head at this part bc how come ashborn didn’t take notice of tp!reader sooner 🤔? I mean, you could say that she wasn’t strong enough to display her “absolute being” power to be under his radar before but even his fellow rulers can still sense her back then? Idk I don’t remember much details about this scene in canon so apologies if I misunderstood smth.

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Omg, I just saw a few panels of the new chapter of SL: Ragnarok manhwa (chap. 41?) on Twitter/X, and after reading this review, I suddenly had a vision of this scene:

Warning: Unedited, subject to change, future convo(?)

_____

It was a quiet night, the kind where even the wind outside seemed to hush itself, allowing the world to bask in the rare tranquility. The soft glow of the living room lamp bathed the space in a warm ambiance, flickering shadows dancing with lights on the walls. Nestled together on the couch, you and Jinwoo enjoyed this rare moment of stillness. One of his arms draped around you, his warmth seeping into your skin as he pulled you closer. You leaned against his chest, your body naturally molding into his as if you had always belonged there.

In your arms, Suho stirred softly, his tiny fingers twitching every now and then. The slow rise and fall of his tiny chest mesmerizing to watch. He was still so small, only a few weeks old, yet with each passing day—day by day, feature by feature, he was becoming a mirror of the man who held you now.

But . . .

You traced the outline of Suho’s face with your eyes, the soft curve of his cheeks, the delicate lashes fluttering against his skin as he ‘fought’ against sleep.

—He also reminded you so much of your best friend.

The sight made your heart clench with a feeling too vast to name.

Ah, I should check on her again soon. Her tournament is coming up in a few weeks. I hope she isn’t pushing herself too much, else she’ll run to her death—Eh, who am I kidding.

You really, really wanted to laugh at the inside joke, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. Your attempt at distracting your mind elsewhere just didn’t seem to work this time.

“...Jinwoo?” your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

But Jinwoo always heard you.

“Hmm?” His hum reverberated in his chest, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

You hesitated. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you gathered the words that had been weighing on you for days now.

“Could you,” You inhaled deeply, as if steadying yourself. “…spend more time with our son?”

Jinwoo stilled for a fraction of a second, his hold around you subtly tightened, before his thumb resumed its slow, comforting strokes along your upper arm.

He knew that tone—the slight wavering beneath the surface, the weight in your words.

“What is it, my love?” His voice was low, gentle, like he was trying to coax you into opening up—technically, he was. “What’s bothering my wife this time?”

Damn him, when did he get so—!

You bit your lip before pressing on. “I’m not saying you’re spending too much time at work. In fact, if you were, you know I wouldn’t have taken any of it and dragged you home myself.”

A breath of laughter left him at that, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. The warmth of it settled in your chest. It was such a simple thing, yet it unraveled the tension in your shoulders, bringing the ghost of a smile to your lips, grounding you despite the storm brewing in your thoughts.

It was his way of saying: We’re in this together. Always.

Your fingers idly stroked Suho’s back, feeling the slow, rhythmic breaths of your baby boy, his warmth anchoring you also.

“I’m just… worried,” The confession came out softer than you intended. You traced your thumb gently along Suho’s arm, watching how peaceful he looked, memorizing the smallness of him, the weight of him in your arms.

Committing every little feature of his to memory.

As if…

As if this moment was fleeting. As if this moment might slip through your fingers like sand, lost to the relentless tide of fate.

Jinwoo already knew where this was going.

“This is about the future you knew, isn’t it?”

Your grip on Suho tightened slightly. “Jinwoo, the fact that Suho is starting to look exactly as I remember him, in my memories of back then, just confirms it.”

The long road he’ll take. The hardships he’ll face.

A deep-seated fear started gnawing at you.

“The story hasn’t ended yet. His future will be the same—”

“Can be the same.”

Jinwoo’s voice was quiet but firm, cutting through the air like a blade. And yet, you still feel the gentleness that never faded away.

His fingers continued tracing slow, soothing circles on your arm. “You and I are proof that there’s still room for change.”

You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. You let out a slow breath instead, some of the tension bleeding from your shoulders at the conviction in his tone.

How can he do that? ‘Till now, you still wondered, how could he ease the storm in your heart with just a few words.

Sometimes, you still couldn’t believe he was yours.

And that you were his.

“…Do you want him to be like you?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

“No.”

The answer was immediate. Firm. Yet, in contrast, the way his fingers brushed over Suho’s soft cheek was achingly gentle. The baby stirred slightly in response, his tiny hand latching onto Jinwoo’s retreating fingers. His little fingers barely curled around two of Jinwoo’s.

Jinwoo stilled, his expression unreadable.

“My path led me to you. I will never regret taking it.” His voice was hushed, reverent, as if speaking anything louder would shatter the fragile serenity of the moment.

Your heart squeezed at his words.

His fingers remained where they were until Suho’s grip finally loosened in sleep. Only then did Jinwoo carefully guide his tiny hand back against his blanket, ensuring he was comfortable. You adjusted the fabric around your son’s sleeping form, both of you moving in quiet tandem.

“But I want our son to find his own path. To choose for himself.”

Your chest ached at the tenderness in his voice, at the raw sincerity in his words.

You shifted slightly, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in your arms as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your beloved husband’s cheek.

“Then spend time with him.” Your voice was quiet but left no room for argument. “More time.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

Jinwoo’s expression softened, but his eyes matched your unwavering ones.

“Don’t let him feel that the only way he can be close to you…” You choose your words carefully before continuing, “—is for him to follow in your exact footsteps.”

Promise me.

Jinwoo said nothing at first. He merely held your gaze. Then, his hand cupped the side of your face, guiding you into a slow, lingering kiss.

It was warm. Familiar. Melting. A promise sealed between your lips.

When he finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in as if grounding himself in you.

_____

“Anything for my loves.”

Honestly, this just makes me more determined to continue writing Trial Player AU. To write a story of an AU where someone that can stand by Jinwoo in everything exist, who can really match him in power included, so that he won’t be “alone.” No hate for canon Cha Hae-in tho—she completes him, just differently than what I envisioned.

I’m still going for that “Cha Hae-in as our bestie”-agenda! I don’t plan on discarding her in Trial Player AU. I’m definitely going to give her more screen time, going to add my own version of developments, but hopefully, it will turn out good enough to still be enjoyed. ❤️

Trial Player AU - Chapter 22: Trial Player!Reader’s First Encounter With The Former Ruler

For clarification: the Rulers came to know of TP!Reader only after she came into proximity with their vessels.

Thomas Andre had a ‘delayed’ response—only after he locked eyes with her did the Ruler power in him react (Chapter 15). A similar situation happened with Go Gunhee, who had been watching Jinwoo walk away after their conversation. When Jinwoo approached TP!Reader in the distance, only then did the Chairman notice her, and the Ruler power in him reacted the same way as Thomas’ had (Chapter 21).

The pattern was there: The Rulers were supposedly alerted only after their vessels truly became aware of TP!Reader, which the vessels did not at first. And what the vessels feel after was always the urge to submit first (mostly due to the Rulers sensing a part of their Creator), then came the (motherly) warmth. At least, this is the pattern up to chapter 21. More on this will be revealed in the story, but feel free to take a guess or make your own theories. 🤗

Then why did Ashborn not take notice of TP!Reader sooner when Jinwoo already spent so much time close to her?

Let’s backtrack to canon info for this.

(As usual, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.) Why didn’t the Monarchs and the Rulers instantly know of Ashborn’s plans for Jinwoo? That is because The Architect, or Kandiaru, designed the System to be used only by Ashborn and his human vessel.

If we go by this logic, then the System is the main bridge for Kandiaru and Ashborn to keep track of Jinwoo. If, say, another being became aware of that fact, and that same being wanted something in Jinwoo’s vicinity to not be noticed by the two, wouldn’t hijacking that main bridge be the ideal plan?

There were many instances where the System acted differently around TP!Reader (and her butterflies, as more recently shown in Chapter 23), at least in comparison to how it usually was with Jinwoo. 🤔

All I can say for now is that this is the first clue as to why Ashborn (and the others) didn’t notice TP!Reader’s existence sooner/instantly, and so far, they have only been able to take notice of her under certain conditions. In Ashborn’s case, it was because TP!Reader reached out to Norma Selner’s mind when she was seeing something inside Jinwoo’s soul. Thus, TP!Reader’s special space came into contact with the ‘darkness’ Norma saw, where Ashborn could finally sense and become aware of her unique presence for the first time.

[alaia777]

congratulations on 200 followers!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

can I request "of all people, I'm stuck here with you" with sae?

hellooo, thank you so much !!! i hope you like it :’)

you know sae.

“know” is a strong word.

you consider him your nemesis—the one obstacle standing in the way of peace, the final boss you need to defeat for the world to flourish. unfortunately, life isn’t a video game, and instead of an epic battle, you’re stuck exchanging sharp words and glares across the stadium hallways and team meetings.

as a professional football player, sae is untouchable—both in skill and in the way he carries himself, like the world is simply his to dominate. you don’t work for him, but as the manager of one of his teammates, your paths cross more often than you’d like. and unfortunately, his manager happens to be a close friend of yours.

watching the way sae treats him makes your blood boil.

you would strangle him if you could.

but you can’t.

even though he technically isn’t your boss, he has enough pull with the higher-ups to make your life difficult if he really wanted to. that doesn’t stop you from speaking your mind, though—whether it’s calling him out when he gives his manager a hard time or snapping back whenever he throws a snarky comment your way.

you can’t stand him, and you make sure he knows it.

unfortunately, more times than you’d like, you cross paths with him. whether it’s scheduling an event with the other managers to make sure the players are on the same page, attending team meetings where some managers need to be present, or heading to the company’s office for another tedious discussion, sae always seems to appear at the worst moments, throwing unwanted comments your way.

this time, it happened in the elevator. you were already inside, anxiously waiting for the doors to close, when out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. sae was heading straight for the elevator, looking like he was about to get in. your heart sank. you weren’t in the mood for dealing with him today, so you began pressing the close button, over and over, hoping the doors would shut faster. it was like you were trying to escape a killer.

just as you thought you were in the clear, the doors were almost closed when sae’s hand shot out, slipping between the doors, and they immediately opened again. he stepped in, wearing his usual indifferent expression, not at all fazed by your evident irritation.

“you don’t get paid enough to act like this,” he said flatly, his eyes scanning you with that all-too-familiar arrogance.

you were tempted to snap back, but instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the floor numbers, pretending you hadn’t heard him. unfortunately, you knew better than to stay quiet for long when he was around.

you clenched your jaw, doing your best to ignore him as the elevator ride dragged on. it felt like an eternity, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. still, there was something that nagged at you—the way his short, magenta bangs stuck out, looking like they’d been cut by someone who didn’t know what they were doing.

finally, you couldn’t help it. “you know,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, “those bangs make you look like you just rolled out of bed.”

sae didn’t respond immediately, just glanced at you with that same expression, but you could tell by the subtle tension in his shoulders that your comment had struck a nerve. good. at least you got a hit in before he could say something else that would make your blood boil.

he smirked—just a little. “and here i thought you had better things to do than pick on my hair.”

you couldn’t help the scoff that slipped out. “maybe i do. but your hair’s just too easy of a target.”

the elevator jolted, giving an unexpected lurch before coming to a complete stop. the lights flickered once, twice, before buzzing back to life. the familiar hum of the elevator was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness that filled the small, confined space as you realized you were stuck between floors.

“seriously?” you muttered, pressing the buttons again, hoping for a response, but the machine remained as uncooperative as ever. you shot a glance at sae. “are you just gonna stand there?”

he didn’t flinch, didn’t seem phased. sae just leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxed, the very picture of indifference, as though getting stuck in an elevator wasn’t a big deal at all.

“looks like we’re stuck,” he said calmly, as if commenting on the weather.

you frowned, your patience wearing thin. “oh, really?” you shot back, voice laced with sarcasm. “i hadn’t noticed.”

he barely acknowledged your tone, instead glancing over the buttons with an air of disinterest. then, raising an eyebrow, he turned his gaze on you. “you seem stressed. must be tough, being stuck with me.”

you scoffed, now fully facing him, doing your best to ignore the fact that you were, in fact, stuck with him. “yeah, it’s a real nightmare,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you alone.

“i’m sure,” he replied nonchalantly, as if your discomfort was just another mundane detail to him. “of all people, i'm stuck here with you."

“you think i want this?” you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice.

he gave you a look that was all disinterest. “you don’t have much of a choice, do you?”

you pressed your lips together, doing your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as the seconds dragged on. the silence in the elevator felt suffocating. with a frustrated sigh, you turned away and stared at the doors again, wishing they’d open. anything to get away from him.

“so what, you’re just gonna stand there and make small talk?” you asked, barely able to mask the annoyance in your voice.

he shrugged casually, as if the situation meant nothing to him. “unless you’ve got something better to do.”

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “not exactly in the mood for chat.”

another stretch of silence filled the elevator, a silence that seemed to weigh down even more with each passing second. sae looked at you again, eyes half-lidded, his demeanor lazy, almost bored. he glanced at the elevator’s display, like he was waiting for the thing to start moving again, but he didn’t look bothered in the slightest.

“you’re really not gonna talk?” he asked, his voice flat, like he was asking about the weather. “guess i should’ve known you were that type.”

you stared at him, trying to decipher if he was mocking you or just being his usual insufferable self. but before you could come up with an answer, the elevator suddenly jerked again, and with a soft ding, it began moving once more, slowly but surely.

the doors opened with a faint creak, and sae stepped out without a second thought. his steps were leisurely, his expression unchanged. before he disappeared down the hall, he turned just slightly to glance at you.

“i’m grabbing a meal. you coming?” he asked, his tone so casual it was almost as if he hadn’t just spent the last few minutes making your life miserable.

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by his complete lack of consideration for the situation you’d just been stuck in. “what?”

he shrugged again, clearly unbothered. “i don’t care if you show up, but you can come if you want,” he said, voice as indifferent as ever. “don’t make it weird.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but something about the way he said it—like it didn’t matter to him whether you went or not—left you momentarily speechless. before you could say anything else, he was already walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, staring after him, trying to figure out if this was just another one of his games or if he was serious.

[potatodemon-beesensible]

CINDERELLA BOY SPOILERS ARE GONNA BE TALKED ABOUT HERE!!!!!!!!!

Honest to god hits. Just… the steel resolve and determination. I really like Buddy’s character as I find a lotta myself in him and this is really cool art. Represents it well. Love it. :3

Also really interesting dynamic with Chase. He gets more determined to be human after bonding so much with him. Not only wanting to be human for himself. But… much more so now wanting to be human for Chase. As Chase showed him like… love and appreciation. Before Buddy talked about the keys as objects and he genuinely grew as a character *through* how much Chase cares about the world around him. Now Buddy has a newfound appreciation for these things and genuinely cares about Chase. It’s really sweet to see and I love the art. ^^

Buddy’s a person who learned how to survive through selfishness and undercutting determination. And… he had that genuine good brought out in him by Chase. And he grows a lot throughout the story. It’s very well done in that. Like… you see it very organically and none if it’s shoehorned in. Whole story’s a masterpiece and I 100% recommend reading it on Webtoon. It’s the kinda thing where like… all the characters are good people. And they bring it out in eachother through genuine human care and responsibility. It’s like… so damn well done. I love it. The tension throughout the story is very real and there are outside threats that *test* the characters. That limit them in their situations. Make it so that they can’t do the right thing *all* the time. Also… it’s just really cool to me how Chase plays off of Buddy. Chase… is a very positive human being. Not blindly, he’s genuinely mature and feels responsible for those around him. He’s just always thinking forward in a… solution kinda way that may cause him to ignore his own problems. Or not notice those of others. Then there’s Buddy, always thinking of how things can go wrong and taking precautions. And… it’s really beautiful actually. I don’t wanna go into any more spoilers in this post… but I will say that Cinderella Boy shows just how beautiful and meaningful human care and effort can be. How people can bring out each other’s strengths and just… love for life. And it doesn’t sugarcoat any of the bad. It’s just… so perfectly written. I 100% recommend it. Also a lotta funny and lighthearted cute moments. A lotta gay going on in those pages… heh. Yea. I love it ^^

Like… Chase and Buddy’s relationship goes both ways in bringing out the other’s best sides and it’s just really cool to me. Chase can succeed because Buddy cares and covers for him when things are too much for him. And Buddy starts caring because of Chase. They’re just a great team ^^

Also boy love story yippee read it now. 🫵

Also… I simplified their relationship a bit in that last paragraph. And yea. Beautiful relationship. 100% recommend Cinderella Boy if any of this interests anyone. Also gtzel has some peak gay romance and really *really* cute gt art. Which is pretty much just romantic art of… eh. Point is that his stuff is gay and he’s awesome. Want the best for him in life. He puts a lotta care and effort into his stuff and he deserves the attention. Really great friend and an amazing person.

Also it’d take a while if I explained gt here ^^”

Big giant. Tiny human. They kiss. There we go. That’s your summary. With Zeal’s art specifically he has like… a really great household gay couple kinda vibe he puts in his pieces. Like they’re just living with each other and enjoying their day. Like… homey kinda cozy gay art. If one person was the size of a mouse. Like that.

There we go. That’s a basic summary for if anyone wants to check out his stuff. Also don’t be shy about giving him praise on his art if you like it. He appreciates it and he gets all excited and happy. ^^

Like… his art has the vibe of finding your bf in a bag of pringles and then letting him snuggle in your hand. That’s the vibe of his art.

“Don’t you want to be human again?”

“I do want it. More than anything”

[vmiina]

threesome with ruby and dean :(!!

your thighs are wrapped around dean’s head as he sucks on your clit, like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. his toned arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to him so he could get more of you. his green irises gleaming as he stares into your eyes through his thick eyelashes, his pupils blown wide. his eyes shift to your side, the soft gleam in them disappearing almost immediately as he sees ruby.

if looks could kill ruby would be dead by now, dean narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to see right past her. but you didn’t notice that. too busy focusing on the feeling of ruby’s lips against your own, the kiss was full of need, pent-up frustration and pure sin. it wasn’t gentle either, it was full of possessive force, all of it coming from ruby. her tongue claims more territory as she deepens the kiss, the heat of everything almost too overwhelming. both dean and ruby devouring you with their tongues.

no matter how many times you three did this together, no matter how many times he was around you and ruby, you were the only one of those two that he softened for. he’s always thought of ruby as nothing but a manipulative demon, always getting in his way. he never liked her, but since you always insisted on having her there too he couldn’t say no, right? and besides he enjoyed the way she always had you like a whimpering mess, wrapped around her finger.

your soft gasps and moans are muffled by ruby’s lips, which is honestly good since noises you’re making would definitely be heard to the room next door. the motel walls aren’t that thick, dean had said many times, from experience. you couldn’t breathe, feeling overstimulated all over, but you couldn’t pull away from either ruby or dean. ruby’s lips too intoxicating on yours, and dean’s grip on your thighs nearly bruising. ruby brushes your hair out of your face softly, her nails tangling with your locs as she caresses your hair.

ruby eventually breaks the kiss, letting out a soft sigh at the loss of your lips. as soon as the kiss broke you let out a soft cry, finally letting dean hear how good he’s making you feel, and if that didn’t make his already high-confidence even higher he doesn’t know what. “baby you gotta be quiet, don’t want the people next door t’hear you.” dean coos against your inner thigh, halting his actions for a moment, making you let out a soft whine. he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh before he gently bites on it, sucking on the bite mark after, creating a faint red bruise there. it has you tugging on his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp.

“you heard him.” ruby coos, as if she’s mocking you for the noises you’re making. it has dean rolling his eyes, he didn’t need her confirming his words. dean removes his other hand from your thigh, bringing it between your legs as he teases your entrance with his fingers. pushing the his ring finger inside your pussy, watching you closely to observe your reaction. your warm gummy walls immediately clench around his finger, sucking it right in. it has dean grinning, like he’s proud of himself for getting you this riled up and needy.

it doesn’t take long for dean to find your g-spot, it’s like he knows your body better than you do. his fingers curl against the spongy spot inside you, it has your back arching off of the dingy motel bed. both dean and ruby seem extremely turned on by your responsiveness, with dean finally taking his other hand off your thigh to palm himself through his boxers. ruby on the other hand just observes mostly, her gaze full of lust, even she couldn’t deny that she really enjoyed the view. she squeezes her thighs together firmly, trying to ease some of the need coiling in her lower abdomen.

“that’s the spot ain’t it?” dean teases, his husky tone accompanied with a grunt. he rolls his hips into his palm, pressing a soft kiss to your aching clit. his hot breath fanning over the sensitive bud as his fingers work on you, adding onto the the pleasure. your hand reach towards ruby, grabbing the bedsheets a couple of times in the process until you actually manage to grip onto her hand, squeezing it in a way that’s almost painful, nails digging into her burning hot skin. “fuck— dean—“ you moan out, all whilst ruby cups your face, rubbing her thumb softly against your cheek, in a way that’s almost domestic.

dean slowly slips his middle finger inside you too, stretching you out. you didn’t even register the pain at first, only paying attention to the delicious feeling of his fingers fucking into you. your brows furrow, mouth agape as soft whimpers pour out in an unbroken rhythm, just a bit too loudly. “shut the fuck up.” ruby commands in a harsh tone, she really doesn’t want anyone to hear what you’re up to. for a moment you’re quiet, not wanting to disobey her, knowing what it could cause. but it doesn’t take long until you’re nothing but a moaning and a whimpering mess.

ruby sticks her fingers in your mouth, deep enough to elicit a gag reflex. she makes you suck on her fingers, in order to keep you quiet. you look at her, seeing smug grin on her lips. “jesus dean, don’t let her come too soon.” ruby orders, making you let out a strangled ‘no’ against her fingers, making her press your tongue down, making it impossible for you to protest. that’s one of the only thing ruby has said that dean can agree on, he shifts his gaze from you to her. “wasn’t plannin’ on it.” he says as he pulls his fingers completely out of your pussy, leaving you feeling empty, clenching around nothing.

dean scoots up, removing himself from between your legs where he had been nestled for what felt like an eternity. now straddling your hips but not daring to put his full weight on you, his boxer-clad hard on against your stomach. he brushes your hair out of your face before he presses a couple of gentle kisses all over your face, his cheek brushing lightly against ruby’s palm. “you think you’re ready to take me?” he purrs against your neck as he shifts down your body slowly, pressing kisses on each part. ruby takes her fingers out of your mouth, finally letting you breathe and speak properly. her fingers coated with your spit. “yes— please dean. i need you—“ you cry out, hips arching off the bed.

dean grabs you by your waist, flipping you around so you’re laying on your stomach. your face hovering inches over ruby’s pussy, covered by her lace panties, you could see a wet patch there and it turned you on even more. you’re too busy focusing on that so you don’t even realize that dean’s gripping you by your hips, lifting them so that your ass is in the air, so he can fuck you properly. ruby’s delicate fingers hover over the hem of her panties, slipping beneath them so she can pull them off.

dean’s boxers are long gone, he had thrown them somewhere across the motel room. he spits on his hand, bringing it down to stroke himself a couple times before he aligns himself with your entrance. the pink tip of his cock nearly red, coated with the precum oozing out. he grips the base of his length firmly, brushing it against your folds a couple times before he slides into you in one smooth move. filling you up in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. ruby cups your cheek, relishing in the way you already look so fucked-out. she slaps your cheek a couple times, not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting in a way that gets you back to your senses.

“get your mouth on me, whore.” ruby demands as she grabs your hair, tugging it so that your mouth is hovering over her glistening cunt. dean pulls out completely, only to thrust all the way back in, throwing his head back. dean’s action made your head bump to ruby’s inner thigh, making you let out a soft whine. “c’mon, be good.” ruby says as she inches closer, making your lips connect with her clit. you wrap your trembling hands around her thighs, overwhelmed with pleasure. ruby’s just trying to get your attention off dean, to get all the attention to herself.

dean finds a steady pace, his hips pistoning against your ass, the filthy sounds of skin slapping filling the small motel room, bouncing off the walls. dean keeps his gaze locked on you between ruby’s legs, that sight could make him cum right there and then. and it nearly does, but only nearly. he has to squeeze his eyes shut, take a deep breath but the sight in front of him is burnt deep into his retinas. “you feel so good— shit baby.” dean practically whimpers out as he grips onto your hips tightly. you let out breathy moans against ruby’s aching pussy, her body trembling with each of your gentle licks.

“good fuckin’ girl.” ruby rasps out, even she lets a soft moan escape through her lips, her hands gripping your locs like a lifeline, pushing your head even closer to her heat. each flick of your tongue sending shock through her. “you like how he’s fuckin’ you huh? you feel good?” ruby taunts you softly, as you lap up at her juices. letting out a incoherent answer, scratching at her thighs, leaving red marks behind. “already fucked dumb, didn’t take much.” dean scoffs as he presses a gentle kiss to your back, lips tracing your spine.

you start to suck on ruby’s clit, even biting down on it a couple times. it has ruby’s hips shuddering as she nears her climax, it doesn’t take much, she’s so goddamn pent up. she grinds her cunt against your face, wanting you to devour every inch of her. “pleaseugh—“ you beg, not even sure for what. dean’s thrusts becoming sloppy, your walls gripping onto him in a way that makes it almost impossible to plunge out of you. “ease up.” dean grunts as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, leaving his handprint on the skin there.

after a while ruby finally comes with a cry, making you devour every single drip of her fluids. as she pulls back, you bury your arousal-coated face in the sheets, gripping them so hard your knuckles turn white. dean keeps going at a bruising pace, but you can tell how close he is by his shaky breath, the movement of his hips faltering for a moment as he releases inside you with a loud whine. coating your insides white, with you leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock “you’re so goddamn good, a fuckin’ gem.” dean husks as he pulls out, letting you collapse to the bed.

saw a tiktok that said something like “imagine having a boyfriend and a girlfriend who hate each other” and that kinda inspired this. literally my sweet babies ugh i love them so much ☹️☹️.

[smulie]

The Debrief.

D: The class was very informative.

L: Uh-huh.

D: I learned so much.

L: Mmh same - just jammed packed full of facts.

D: Crazy that I may throw up, piss or shit myself the day of. Imagine? An actual Trifecta of Horrors! In a room full people no less.

L: Yea…wait what?

D: I knew you were checked out! Which fair - your ex was the one teaching the class.

L: Sorry.

D: We should talk about it.

L: Don’t really want to.

D: “Clear and responsive communication helps foster a healthy nurturing environment for your baby.” But I get it. That had to be quite a shock seeing her again. Know that I understand and I’ll be waiting to listen when you’re ready.

L: Thanks babe, really thank you.

D: No worries. Now - I’m thinking tacos but specifically tacos from El Rícon.

L: Hon - that’s in Sulani.

D: Mmhmm. While we’re there, we should probably stop by and say hi to your folks. And maybe let them know about baby bear?

L: (heavy sigh) How bad do you want these tacos?

D: (in her best Jennifer Coolidge voice) Real bad!

previous/next

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Deal

- Donnie Darko ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

Summary: Donnie knows a secret of yours and you have to make sure it doesn’t get out.

Warnings: Blackmailing, coercion, dub-con/non-con, stalking, dom!Donnie, Donnie is pathetic and obsessive, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking ish, unprotected sex, piv sex

Word count: 2000~

Notes: If dark themes aren’t your cup of tea, maybe this isn’t for you. Take care ᡣ𐭩

The walk to your house was a bit awkward. You felt as if the teacher wanted you to suffer by pairing you up with Donnie. And Donnie felt as if God had just proven his existence.

He had walked this way many times before, unbeknownst to you. The best was being at your house during the night. When your light was on, he could see you clearly, but you wouldn’t be able to catch him looking in. That’s when he would watch you change, watch you dance around the room and get off grinding against your pillow. And when he went to sleep, that’s all he’d think about.

Your house was empty; your parents weren’t getting home from work till dinner time. You and Donnie sat on the rug in your room. History books and notepads spread across the floor. 

You didn’t dislike Donnie. He was a bit weird, but that was it, which was a shame considering he wasn’t all that bad in other compartments.

The industrial revolution wasn’t necessarily interesting to either of you, and after 30 minutes, your minds began to slip out of your ears. “Do you want something to drink?” You asked, needing to stretch your legs. “Just water.”

As you filled up two glasses in the kitchen, Donnie fidgeted nervously. He couldn’t believe he was finally inside. Inside the room he knew like the back of his palm, with the girl he dreamed of every night, waking up sweating with his sheets damp. 

You walked back into the room and handed Donnie one of the glasses. He thanked you and sipped on it. “You’re different than I thought,” you blurted, just to break the tension in the air. “How so?” He cocked his head, internally screaming. “There’s this notion that you’re insane or something, but you seem quite normal to me.” 

Donnie tried his best not to feel ashamed knowing he was definitely not normal, at least when it came to you. “Well, who knows,” was the best he came up with. You snickered at his response. “I don’t think you’re normal either,” he said. You raised an eyebrow. “How so?” Donnie thought for a second. He had a bunch of reasons for thinking that, though most of them would expose him too.

“You dropped one of your notebooks after class once, so I picked it up to give it back to you,” he began. It was half truth, half lie. You never actually dropped it; he just stole it out of your backpack during a break. Nerves were building up in you. “It opened on one of the pages, and it turned out it was a journal. Talking about boys, that pillow you use to—“ You cut him off with a panicked shush. Tried to gather your thoughts. A few quiet seconds passed.

“Was it bad?” You asked nervously. “Is masturbation bad? cause I don’t—“ You cut him off again. “Oh god.” You buried your warm face in your palms. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” You were officially caught in his trap. “What’s in it for me?”

Your eyes widened; were you being blackmailed? “Just as long as you don’t talk about it.” The people around you were all pure girls with hearts of gold, and you couldn’t risk all of your dirty secrets spilling out. “If you do what I say, then I promise to keep shut, deal?” he said, giving you an ultimatum.

You nodded; what else was there to do? “First, I’ll tell you something embarrassing about me to make it even,” he suggested, making you feel a bit lighter. “When I do it, I think of you.” You froze, shocked and flattered all at once. “So if you want me to keep your little secret, maybe you could give me a hand.” He leaned closer and could feel the dizzying scent of your perfume. “No reason for any of us to feel ashamed really,” he mumbled and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing you.

You didn’t know what to do, but kissing back felt like the safest option. When his tongue entered your mouth, you almost got swept away and forgot the situation you were in.

Donnie was straining hard against his black jeans. It was all too much. Being in your room, breathing in your scent, kissing you. He leaned back and saw how nervous you were. “I would never hurt you, okay?” he tried to reassure you. You mumbled an okay, not knowing whether to believe him or not. Not knowing if the buzzing in you was from fear or arousal. 

He instructed you to lay on the bed and you did. He kissed you again and felt up your shirt. Cupped your breast over your bra before sneaking back his hand to unlatch it. He moaned as he felt your naked skin beneath his palm. In his mind, you were as enthusiastic as he was.

His leg snaked between yours and pressed up against you. Donnie thought he was going to lose his mind when a whimper escaped your lips. He could feel your heat through his denim-clad knee.

He leaned back, ripped off your shirt, and began unbuttoning your pants; he needed to see all of you. Seconds later, your clothes were scattered on the floor. The worst thing about it all was that you could feel how wet you were, and embarrassment surged in you. 

It was unclear whether it helped or not when Donnie began rambling curses under his breath. He thought he might cum in his pants at the sight. You looked better than he could’ve ever imagined, and he had imagined it a lot.

“You’re perfect; you’re not real,” he whispered to himself and spread your thighs open with his hand. You felt like hiding. No one had ever seen you like this. “Poor thing, having to get off by yourself all the time.”

One of his fingers ran over your clit gently. When your legs twitched, he smiled to himself. “I’m gonna make it worth it for you,” echoed before he leaned forward. He burrowed his face in the crook of your groin, breathing in deeply.

His kisses were uncoordinated, apparent that he was doing this for his own pleasure. His mouth went wherever it could reach, savoring you. Your heart pounded so loudly you could hear it. You didn’t want this to feel good, didn’t want to want this. But your body definitely did. Your hips betrayed you and bucked up against Donnie’s eager mouth. 

His breath fanned against your burning skin as his lips wrapped around your clit, licking and nipping at you. His hips rutted unconsciously against your bed. Hell, he could cum just from this. Just from having his mouth on you and grinding against your sheets that so deliciously smelled of your laundry detergent. 

A string of saliva connected the two of you when he pulled away. His thumb ran over your hole up to your clit. He could almost feel it pulsating, or maybe that was his own rapid heartbeat he was feeling. 

You had never done this before, never done anything before. You hated to admit that your expectations started to get exceeded. 

Donnie stood up on his knees and undid his pants. He pulled out his leaking cock, red and aching. “Come here,” he said, paired with a motion of his hand. You crawled forward and repeated over and over to yourself that you didn’t want this. But your mouth was hopelessly salivating.

You didn’t fully know what to do. You pressed your lips against his tip and slowly took him in. Thankfully, you didn’t actually have to think or do a lot at all since Donnie grabbed a fistful of your hair and controlled your movements himself.  I don’t like this. This is just to keep my secrets safe. This is to protect myself. Your eyes closed involuntarily and stung with tears. You couldn’t help but moan around him.

This was Donnie’s dream. You, fully at his disposal. He would be the first and only to ever see you like this. If there was a God, this was the closest he’d ever get. His back hunched over as he pulled you farther onto him, feeling himself hit your throat with each thrust. He felt himself get dangerously close to the edge and pulled you off.

Your face was damp with tears and saliva. Donnie cupped your cheek and wiped some of the smudged mascara off with his thumb. “You’re insane,” he chuckled, “you’re too good.” 

He flipped you over onto your stomach and put his hands on your ass. Feeling up your soft skin. “Tell me you want me,” he begged, his voice shaking. He wanted this to be reciprocated; he wanted to hear you admit it. “Yeah, I do,” you responded, not sure what you actually wanted, with your mind and body being at war with each other. But what did it matter? “I want you.”

Donnie choked back a moan before placing his cock between your folds, running it back and forth, gathering your wetness. “I can tell. You love this,” he mumbled. 

When his tip slipped in, he let out a pathetic whine. This was a thousand times better than his hand paired with your cum-stained yearbook photo. This was heaven. He leaned over you, grabbed your waist, and stayed still for a minute. He wanted this to last.

When he finally moved, you felt your brain slip out of your ear along with your dignity. You couldn’t get lower than this. He hit spots you didn’t even know existed; you hated him for it. He kept mumbling into the skin of your shoulder as he fucked you relentlessly and somewhat unskillfully. Profanity and praises spewing out into the air.

“God. God. I love this, love you,” Donnie whined against you. You were like his sex doll in that moment. Lying still, not resisting. The only thing setting you apart from a toy were the moans escaping you.

Donnie’s nails dug crescent marks into your hips as he neared his orgasm. “I want you to cum,” he breathed out. He wanted you to show him that he was doing good, that you liked this, liked him. His hand sneaked around to rub circles against your clit. Your body jerked as he did. The friction caused by his callused skin sent you into overdrive. Your walls clenched around him. You had never heard noises like that come from you before. Desperate, high-pitched noises that couldn’t be held back no matter how hard you tried. 

“I love you, I love you…,” Donnie rambled as he lost his rhythm. He stalled, buried deep inside you, and painted your insides with his cum. He stayed for a moment, catching his breath. 

He flipped you around and saw your tired, vulnerable expression. “Are you alright?” he asked, genuinely concerned. You looked away. “I feel dirty.” Donnie turned your face back to him. “Hey, hey, no. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Especially now.”

You were mad at him. Mad at him for reading your journal, for taking your virginity, and for making it feel good. But his words made you soften; even though you felt ruined, he thought you were prettier than ever. Since he was the only one who knew, maybe he was the only one that could make you feel better about this.

“You’re perfect; I never thought I’d get you,” he said, joy evident in his voice, before lying down on top of you. Your ego multiplied in size even though your self-respect had left you for good. 

The Band-Aid was ripped off that day. And later that night when Donnie peeked through your window, your hand moved between your thighs, moving in and out of you while your trusty pillow lay thrown on the floor. Pride ran through his veins; he had corrupted you, and the only one who would accept you like this was him.

[blond3ang3l]

Hanging with plug! Connie

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

You and Connie knew each other for the last couple years. Having met him through your ex boyfriend since the two of them were homeboys, it was an unlikely friendship that grew between the two of you. People did tell him it was fucked to be hanging with the ex of a friend. He KNEW it was fucked up to his homeboy, but to be fair you were just more enjoyable to be around.

He felt like when he hung around other friends they always wanted something out of him or wanted to use him as a way to shoe off they were “down”. You were just chill and treated him like did everyone else, and that why he fucked with you. He didn’t mind doing shit for you even though you always objected. You were perfectly capable of doing and paying for you guys whenever yall went out but he always insisted.

When y’all first started to hang out one on one he expected it to be like how he was with everyone else. Just hanging in his car or his room and just smoking for hours. He was fried if he thought that all you would do is sit and smoke all day. Once in a while was whatever but you wanted to get out the house once in a while and having Connie go with you was a no brainer.

“Stay yo ass still nigga. You gonna have me fuck you up and then you gonna be mad.” Connie snorted in response while rolling his eyes. He had came over to our place at here in the morning because after arching. Few YouTube videos and tik toks you were convinced that you could cut, bleach, and dye hair. Now the dying his hair wasn’t the problem it was he cutting part, because you ad no clue what you were doing.

“Don’t fuck me up now. I don’t wanna walk around with damn bald spot or sumthin.” You snickered while taking the guard off the razor. Turning around you rubbed the mirror that laid on your nightstand to pass to him. “I think I did pretty damn good right Con?” Looking into the mirror he was surprised to see you actually did a really good job. You didn’t even know it but you were now about to be his personal barber. “ S’ alright.” “Alright??”

Connies arm wrapped around you waist to pull you in front of him while he laughed. I’m fuckin with you. you did good for a first time. Guess I’ll let you try again another time.” He took his phone out his pocket and pulled up Pinterest (which you got him addicted to) and pulled up his board of different styles of art for you to try after bleaching his hair.

“Now go through this and pick what you’re gonna do on me.” “Do I look like an artist to you?” He shrugged without a care in the world. “Well you gonna learn today.” You rolled your eyes but still happily made your way to your bathroom to get your hair dye…

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 8: Surprise

Another of my prompts from last year that fit.

*****

Rated T | 2,430 | tw: homophobic slur

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige—he always was—but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

****

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay insisted that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so incredibly perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before he kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy I am that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s- we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until, like, 10 minutes ago, so I don’t even have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought, though he kept that to himself.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you. You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned—minus is own spontaneous proposal—and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part— Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears filled his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so- it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring.”

“Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting yours on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently fixed a curlon Bucks head and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took his ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[darkintothedawn]

POCKET-SIZED LOVE || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Based off of the whole 'He's so cute, I want to put him in my pocket.' train of thought people get.

Word Count — 1037

Warnings — Fluff.

It was late, but neither of you were in any rush to move. The glow of the lamp in Stiles’ room bathed everything in warm gold, the only sound between you the faint hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of fabric as one of you shifted.

You were in Stiles’ lap, your arms wrapped securely around his neck, legs lazily draped over his. It was a position you had ended up in a thousand times before—sometimes by accident, sometimes because he yanked you into him with that playful strength of his, and sometimes because you just needed to be close to him.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“You’re crushing me,” Stiles mumbled against your shoulder, though his arms around your waist told a different story.

“You love it.”

“I do, but also, my legs are falling asleep.”

“Sounds like a you problem, Stilinski.”

He huffed out a dramatic sigh, flopping his head back against the couch. “This is abuse.”

You grinned, shifting just enough to look at him. His face was flushed—not just from warmth, but from you, from the weight of your body pressing into his, from your fingers trailing lazily up and down his back.

His eyes flickered open, and even in the dim lighting, you could see the way they softened as they landed on you. It made your heart ache in the best way.

God, you loved him.

You reached up, cupping his cheeks between your hands, your thumbs pressing into the soft skin. “You’re so pretty,” you whispered, almost in awe.

Stiles immediately stiffened. “Oh my God, don’t—”

“Too late,” you interrupted, squeezing his cheeks together until his lips puckered. “I’m in love with the prettiest boy in the world.”

A strangled sound escaped him, something between a groan and a laugh, and he weakly batted at your hands. “Stop it.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll kick you off.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tighter.

You grinned. "See? You’re stuck with me."

"You are physically on me, so yes, I’d say that’s accurate.”

You laughed, pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek just to watch the way his nose scrunched up. He looked at you like he was debating whether to throw you off or never let you go.

“Y'know," you mused, tilting your head as you traced slow circles over his jaw with your thumb, "I think I should just shrink you down and keep you in my pocket forever.”

Stiles blinked. “What.”

“I mean it,” you continued, undeterred. “I’d keep you safe, take you everywhere, make you a little bed out of my shirt pocket. I could set up a tiny desk so you could still solve your little mysteries, and I’d feed you tiny snacks—”

Stiles groaned, pressing his face into your shoulder. “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t,” you teased, scratching your nails gently against the back of his neck. “You love it. You love me.”

His fingers dug into your sides, his voice muffled against your shirt. “I really do, and it’s awful.”

You smiled, pressing your nose against the side of his head, breathing him in. "Would you really let me keep you in my pocket?"

Stiles pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were wide, thoughtful, and for a moment, something soft flickered across his face, something he almost looked scared to say.

"If it meant always being with you?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "Yeah. Yeah, I would."

The words knocked the air right out of you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling so much that it almost hurt. Your hands slid from his cheeks down to his shoulders, gripping him tighter, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin.

“We could run away, you know,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice light, even though your heart was pounding. “Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. No werewolves, no responsibilities. No one trying to kill us every other week.”

Stiles let out a breathy laugh, but his hands tightened around you like he was holding onto the thought, like he was considering it.

“You really mean that?” he asked after a moment, voice softer than before.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face. His freckles, the scar on his chin, the way his lower lip was slightly fuller than his top—God, he was unfairly pretty.

“Of course, I do,” you said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. You could feel his heart hammering against yours, his breath a little unsteady.

“Okay,” he whispered.

You tilted your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. “If you ever do find a way to shrink me down, just… make sure I get a comfy pocket, alright?”

You let out a breathless laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “I’ll keep you somewhere warm, right next to my heart.”

He groaned. “You have to stop saying things like that, my heart physically can’t take it.”

“Then stop being so adorable.”

“I am not—”

You cut him off with a kiss, slow and sweet, your fingers threading through his hair. He melted immediately, hands gripping your waist, pulling you even closer even though there was barely any space between you.

When you pulled back, his breath was shaky, his eyes still half-lidded as he stared at you.

“I love you,” you murmured.

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just looked at you, like he was still trying to figure out how this was real, how you were real. Then, he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours again.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much, it’s stupid.”

You smiled, closing your eyes.

For a while, you just sat there, wrapped up in each other, whispering quiet confessions into the space between you. And even if you couldn’t actually keep Stiles in your pocket, you were going to hold onto him as tightly as you could, for as long as he’d let you.

And knowing Stiles?

That just might be forever.

[mrs-stans]

INTERVIEW: Sebastian Stan on Curiosity, Confrontation, and His Oscar Contenders

Sebastian Stan has had a wild twelve months that I strangely found myself a small part of.

Stan received critical acclaim and awards attention for two films: A Different Man, where he played an actor with a facial disfigurement, and The Apprentice, where he played a young Donald Trump. Both performances are intricately detailed and precise, evading stereotypes and caricatures amidst shifting themes and tones. They also encapsulate a common theme in his work that I first noticed in Fresh: exploring characters’ darker impulses that others either miss or deliberately ignore. Despite their acclaim, both films struggled with distribution and promotion, with The Apprentice facing lawsuit threats and industry hesitance to engage with the film. He went viral after revealing that he couldn’t participate in Variety’s Actors on Actors series because other actors’ publicists didn’t want them discussing the newly-elected president. (My tweet describing the situation as reprehensible went viral, too.) Despite the blowback, Stan remained upfront and outspoken, fashioning himself as a fearless, principled artist during a fraught political and cultural moment.

Stan’s unique position and detailed approach to his work were reinforced in my interview with him for AwardsWatch, conducted days after he won the Golden Globe for A Different Man and before his Oscar nomination for The Apprentice. It was a full circle moment of sorts for me, after advocating for A Different Man since seeing it in April, interviewing Matia Bakalova for The Apprentice, and meeting director Aaron Schimberg following a screening in New York. During our conversation, I sensed that he wanted to meet his moment in time responsibly, emphasizing how important curiosity and empathy were to the human condition. Given his challenges in releasing and promoting his films, I also sensed, through our few interactions, how genuinely moved he was by the support and recognition he’s received. (Case in point: he was incredibly generous with his time when he didn’t have to be.) It’s near-impossible not to be thrilled for him and the acknowledgment of his talent and thoughtfulness.

My goal in publishing this interview in full is for others to sense what I have about Sebastian Stan over these past twelve months by giving him the space to share his journey, in this awards season and in the larger context of his complex career.

[NOTE: This interview has been slightly edited for clarity.]

It’s an embarrassment of riches to say you are in two awards-contending films, The Apprentice and A Different Man. What has the experience been like for you this season?

It’s been very surreal. You never really know the outcomes of any film when you go and make them. You’re always just hoping they turn out well, especially if they’re shot under crazy circumstances, which both of these films were. A Different Man was 24 days, still in COVID, in New York, and it was just running and gunning to try and make the day, every day. And [Aaron] was trying to shoot it on film, and he had these beautiful one-take shots, which required everybody in the crew to be on the same page. And then The Apprentice, I’ve been trying to get going since 2019, and every time we got close, it fell apart. [So] you hope people will watch it. And when you get into this wild time that is the fall, where you’ve got so many films coming out and major studios contending like Netflix, Amazon, and Apple, and everyone’s got their horses in the race, so to speak, you don’t know if your movie will cut through.

A Different Man had an interesting journey. It’s amazing because Aaron and I kept saying, “Look, somehow we’re at the Gothams, and then the Gotham thing happened.” Or, “Wow, we’re at the Globes,” or, “Wow, we got to Berlin.” There were all these signs that this film was connecting with people, but it felt like we always had to be the cheerleaders to A24 about it [and say], “Let’s keep going.”

With The Apprentice, it had no marketing. When we finally got the movie from, basically, not being almost censored, we had two and a half months of trying to get the film out with any marketing, like billboards on Sunset Boulevard or anything like that. So when you get to the Globes, and I’m sitting there, and I’m going, “Wow, this actually happened with both of these films,” you can’t help but feel grateful because this is the win. This is probably as good as it’s going to get. And then, obviously, anything that happens after that is an amazing moment, but in terms of getting both films seen, it helps to have those moments.

How do you feel after winning the Globe? I’m sure there’s probably some vindication or celebration of the fact that this film you championed was recognized in the first major event of the season.

It was incredibly gratifying for many reasons. One, for the film and getting more attention to it. Two, for the film’s subject matter. It’s not an easy, simple film. It’s beautiful, complex, funny, and tragic and speaks to such big questions and themes. When you look at films like that, there aren’t a lot out there. You want to encourage people like Aaron Schimberg to keep working and making them, for people to keep looking at Adam Pearson as an actor first and not as somebody with a disfigurement, and to envision him in [other] ways. I think that’s what this movie does so brilliantly; for that purpose, it’s amazing.

For me, at 42 years old, having been around and doing this for 20-somewhat years, you’re always hoping that you’re going to be up there someday and thank some of these people. I could’ve been up there for an hour, you know? So many people have contributed to my life, and you just want to highlight everybody. But it was a nice moment for my mom and the close people in my life.

But then it was scary because…we woke up the next day, and 24 hours later, these fires were happening, and suddenly, we were in a different world, and we’ve been in a different world since. It’s been hard to look back at that because it’s been crazy watching so many people lose their homes, people that I know.

Hopefully, everything’s been okay for you.

Yeah, everything’s okay. Fortunately, everyone’s okay, but there are friends and people we know who have lost their homes and everything…or just the entire neighborhood, especially in the Palisades area. It’s really difficult to wrap your mind around it. Mother Nature…I don’t know if there’s anything more humbling than that, right? We all end up being put in the backseat, and none of it really matters at that point. We’re all in the same boat, you know? But hopefully, we’ll get a little bit better today.

I really hope so. Now, getting into your career and these films, do you see any similarities between the two roles of Edward/Guy and Donald Trump?

I do because, to me, I feel like they are two different forms of narcissism, two different forms of extreme narcissism. When I think of narcissism, I think of denying and suppressing who we really are and inventing another person. If you want to look at psychological terms, you call it the super-ego. When the distance between your true self and this other invented version you’re putting forward continues to grow because you’re constantly suppressing and lying about yourself, you have to create a bigger and bigger lie. It starts to have consequences that affect you and the people around you.

Edward is a singular person in his own world, [while Trump] happens to be a political figure who is meant to be a leader and an authoritative figure, meant to be an example to other people. His reach and how he inspires certain people goes much, much further. I’ve always seen both films as a denial of reality and a loss of humanity. That’s what the Trump story is to me. It’s what happens when you completely abandon empathy and morals and are only trying to fuel and feed this one particular need, and you have no regard for consequences that affect other people. Everything’s transactional as long as he can keep his lie alive.

What I see in Trump is a very broken, pained, paranoid, insecure little boy. I don’t say that to simply go, “Yes, he’s human, and you should feel bad for him.” I also say that to highlight the flaws that might get in the way of this person having power, moral authority, and so on. I don’t know if that’s the person I would necessarily trust, you know? Even in these horrific fires, instead of offering solutions, he’s sitting there and using what’s happening in California to serve his story and narrative, point fingers, and assign blame. It’s horrific to me.

With Edward, he feels that he’s made a mistake denying or suppressing himself, but he’s not connecting with that, and, as a result, he ends up becoming kind of a monster himself. Everything revolves around what has been taken from him, but he never assumes responsibility for the fact that he surrendered rather than someone having taken it from him. There are these complex themes that I think are relatable and interesting, and I don’t know if people connect that with those two movies, but I was able to speak about them for the last few months.

What I find fascinating about your career, and correct me if I’m wrong, is that I think you’ve selected characters who have some form of inner darkness beneath the “Sebastian Stan of it all.” I think you’ve done a great job communicating that darkness and how it manifests and festers in different ways. Sometimes it’s loud and funny and exciting, like in Pam and Tommy, and sometimes it can be dark and insidious, like in The Apprentice, Sharper and Destroyer. Is that something you’ve been actively seeking?

I think I have been curious about gravitating towards things that feel complex or I don’t quite understand right away because I find that’s how people are. I think sometimes, when we have discomfort with certain films, the pity of that discomfort can translate into ignoring something altogether because “I don’t want to go there.” Sometimes, it’s something we haven’t confronted yet or don’t want to confront. To me, one of those is that we are not perfect people. People are flawed and are all susceptible to going in very different ways.

I think we all walk around with some version of an angel and a devil on each shoulder. Every day is a decision we make to go out in the world and either hurt or try to help somebody, even in a small way. Like, you go and get a cup of coffee, and maybe you smile at the person, or you don’t even look at them. We’re conscious of things; we’re not conscious of things.

I’m always trying to learn more about myself. I don’t think of any roles as particularly reflective of me, necessarily, but I like surprising myself. I think that’s what I’m supposed to do as an actor: keep exploring humanity and its diversity. I love when there are these roles that feel closer to the truth, that it’s not always black and white, that it’s not always just a good guy and a bad guy. It’s complex. Unfortunately, there are very good people in the world who don’t have the tools and sometimes end up hurting others. There are also sometimes psychopaths that can reflect one good quality, and you wonder if somebody in their life had supported that quality more, would it have been different? I think that’s what’s interesting to me: just how big the scope is in terms of being a human.

Digging into the films themselves, we can start with The Apprentice; I spoke with Maria Bakalova last month, and she told me — and I was blown away by this — that the scene where Donald breaks down after Fred Junior’s death was largely improvised. I’d love to know how you conceived that moment.

I think that was an experience that’s so reflective of my process and how I approach this work. You can go home at night and do all this preparation. You prepare for months before and hope you get there, and you surrender to the director, the other actors, the moment, the scene. You envision things sometimes going a certain way, but almost nine out of 10 times, they don’t go that way. There’s something else happening, and it’s always about staying open to that.

In the script, there was always this moment with Donald being alone in the bathroom and breaking down, and then Ivana walks in and finds him and he quickly cleans himself up and says, “Nothing happened.” We shot it a couple of times, and there were takes where that happened. Then there was another take where, in the moment, I froze, and that was the truth of the scene. Maria walked in, and I knew we weren’t shooting the scene we were supposed to. But we still stayed in it and explored what happened. Fortunately, as was the process with the whole movie, Ali kept rolling, and thankfully, it carried us into the bedroom. We got into bed, and she put her hand on my hand. And then suddenly, all that [emotion] started to happen in that moment. Then I jumped and punched the wall, which didn’t make it into the film, but you had this moment before, which did.

That’s the beauty of this work, what I love about it. If you stay open, there’s a way it can go where you didn’t see it going that ends up being closer to the truth. And you want it always to be as close to the truth as possible.

What aspect of Donald Trump were you most excited and scared to explore?

It’s a really great question; thank you for asking that. I feel actors have to stay curious. I think the creative language is more powerful than any language we have on this earth. No matter where we come from, what we believe, how we were raised, or what language we speak, it’s the one thing that I feel, human to human, we can get to if we can allow ourselves to stay curious.

For me, I thought, “I really want to let me try and find out who this person is.” Going back in time and looking at some of the early footage [of him], I saw a vulnerability and insecurity there that I didn’t know existed, that seemed to be buried down deep underneath this pile of bravado, this carefully curated, Clint Eastwood-like, Zoolander stare down that we’re getting. There was a real person there at one point. I wanted to know more about that and how he became what he became.

I think what scared me the most was, knowing that he’s so well-known and in our faces everywhere, that I felt it was almost near-impossible to get anyone even to spend two hours trying to figure out who this guy was. He’s been done so many times. There are so many caricatures and impressions of him, and these mannerisms that he has now, the way he speaks, the lips, everything… I had to pick and choose how to filter that out through two hours so that people could connect with and believe in the reality and not be disconnected because of what they know.

What helped was that, when he was younger, he was less. There was a lot less of what you see now, those things that have built over time. His voice didn’t sound like he does now; his mannerisms weren’t as specific. That was the challenge and fear, just knowing that if I do a little too much too soon, I’m going to lose everybody. I’m just going to be thrown in there as just another kind of impression.

You’ve spoken about growing up in Romania during the collapse of the Soviet Union, experiencing political unrest and dissent. Did any of those personal experiences shape your performance of Trump or how you approached the film overall?

Yeah, totally. I think this idea about the American Dream that I, my parents, and everybody else in Romania at the time were dreaming and talking about was what I was trying to explore with [the film]. It’s about Trump and Roy Cohn, but it’s also about this ideology. What does it really do to a person? I think we see this over time. There are plenty of examples… if you look at Elon Musk… he keeps growing stronger and bigger, and there’s this idea of power corrupting absolutely. You can make your own thoughts about what he’s become, but there’s something about this American Dream.

When I came to America, my mom said, “We’re here now, and I’ve sacrificed my life, and you have to make something of yourself because you’re going to have this opportunity that so many kids are not going to have. You’re lucky that we got this far.” This is something that 100% helped me, but it’s complicated. I hear that; it drives me, but I also feel this burden of responsibility and this pressure of, “What if I fail? What if it doesn’t happen? How do I deal with this?”

I find that many people in this business, and Silicon Valley and Wall Street, you see people getting more money, accumulating more things or more awards, or they get there, and it’s never enough. There’s always something else, so they have to get another thing. If you’re nominated once for one Oscar and don’t get nominated for another 10 years, then you’re in the “one-time-only club.”

This is, to me, part of the story of The Apprentice. When is it enough, and what does it do to a person? So I think my journey through Vienna and coming here and trying to understand what it means to be an American, growing up in America, 100% influenced me with that part, and probably also drove me to do it.

Moving to A Different Man, the first thing that struck me was how you retain Edward’s physicality while playing Guy while also performing what Guy imagines being a person who never had a physical disability or disfigurement is like. Could you walk me through that process?

On a technical, scientific level, our muscles hold memory. It’s why, sometimes, people talk about improving posture and how standing up straight and walking into a room can influence mood, and there’s a lot of research into that. So, even though you’re dying your hair, losing weight, going to the gym, or [doing] whatever else to feel like you belong more, it doesn’t necessarily change the muscle memory that you carry. There are certain things and traumas over time that will always be there. You may still react to something the same way years later, depending on how much work you’ve done.

For me, [there was] trauma that came from the prosthetics and walking around the city. When I was walking around, I was so self-conscious. I felt people walk by me. Some would look, some would ignore me, but everything in my body was telling me to go in. All I wanted to do was go into myself, get through that street, and get to my destination as quickly as possible. So, as a result, I was walking a certain way, and I felt powerlessness, and I realized that was not going away for Edward.

Edward changes his physical appearance, but he’s never confronted any of the things he feels most in pain about on an internal level, so those things will continue. He might get better and go, “Oh, wait, people don’t look at me that way anymore, so I can actually be this guy.” But when he’s not conscious of it, he’s just falling right into who he was because there was no growth there for him.

It was also important for me to keep certain things about him that were recognizable from an audience standpoint that they’ll see later. I love what you said because I don’t think many people have picked up on Edward as Guy is Edward’s idea of what he should be like as an “able-bodied person.”

The other piece that helped me was speaking with this amazing woman, Elna Baker, who wrote a book about losing nearly 100 pounds. She lost all this weight, and suddenly, she was walking down the street and noticing men and women looking at her. She was finally the person she envisioned herself to be or felt she was. Over time, she started to miss her old self, to the point where she was missing people gawking at her and how heavy she used to be. I thought it was so interesting that this transformation for her didn’t ultimately pay off as she had hoped, that the inner peace, calm, and self-acceptance were not there. She talked about how there were things that she could do that she had never done before, but they weren’t fulfilling her in any way.

In a similar way, I think Guy ends up going down this path that he thinks will supply him with all these things that he’s watched other people have for years, but it’s actually made his life quite boring.

For me, one of the year’s best scenes is when Guy watches Oswald do karaoke and then watches the audience react to Oswald in a way that Guy doesn’t expect. I’d love to know what you were thinking at that moment because it was gorgeously acted, and you were communicating rank devastation through your eyes.

I appreciate that. I never really thought at that moment about how much that scene would ultimately mean. But I think it’s the first time Edward is confronted with this reality and denial of self in a very real way. A lot is happening there. I think he’s fascinated and curious. I think he’s looking for validation. I think he’s hoping that other people will judge Oswald the way he’s judging Oswald in that moment because judging Oswald helps keep his own lie alive.

At one point, he sees these two girls laughing and feels, “Oh, they’re laughing. Okay, good. I made the right choice. They’re laughing as they should because they would laugh at me.” But actually, you don’t even know if they’re laughing at Oswald. So I think it’s a lot of fear and fascination, and he can no longer run from what he’s been denying, which is, “Oh, this could’ve been me. I could’ve owned myself, and perhaps I would’ve been fine.” I think he’s dealing with that, and from that point on, it starts to grow until the end of the movie, when he murders the physical therapist. It keeps growing because of the desperation of trying to maintain the lie of, “No, no, no, I did the right thing,” and it continues to spiral out of control.

That scene is about somebody who’s in total ownership of themselves, which, by the way, I feel Adam is like in life, which is incredible. And then you have somebody who unfortunately realizes they’ve made the biggest mistake of their life.

I’m glad you brought up Adam because his performance is extraordinary, and I wish it were being recognized more this season. But you did thank Adam in your Golden Globe speech for “his trust.” How do you two work together to establish that trust, and how did it manifest on screen?

I think with anybody you’re about to go into the trenches with, we met before, and kind of sussed each other out a little bit, and I just felt, “This is going to be great. This is going to work out.” We were both on the same page about what we wanted here. With Adam and A Different Man, I really felt that he was going to be this lighthouse for me, in terms of trying to understand how to approach this and how I should, in a way, best represent him. I was really in service to him and Aaron.

There was a lot of conversation around how he grew up, his childhood, and his experiences, what he encounters daily online. When we go back again to what we said at the beginning about the loss of humanity, sensitivity, and empathy that’s transpiring online between people, how we attack other people anonymously. It’s like, where do we get that from? Maybe people in power are giving permission to do that, you know? So, the fact that Adam can go out there every day and outwit any of these people and that he’s had to do that for so much of his life is very inspiring and shows how brave he is.

I wanted to understand how one gets to that point. I knew that [Adam] was very different from Edward, but it was also about creating Edward’s past and background. Unlike Adam, who fortunately had a really strong support system with his mother and his family, all we know is that Edward’s mom had passed, and we don’t really know what else transpired. There are many cases that I found researching online of people with disfigurement or different kinds of disabilities who had been abandoned, orphaned, or never had that support system from their families. So, it was interesting, but I felt that whatever I was going to do would always have to be in step with Adam and, of course, Aaron.

One last question to wrap up: what do you want people to take away from these two films?

I still feel, and I was saying this on Sunday night, that there is discomfort around these subject matters that confront us on a level we’re afraid to go to. I think both films do that, and I hope people don’t turn the other way. I don’t believe it’s always ill-intentioned towards disability and disfigurement. I think sometimes people are curious, but they’re afraid of being curious, and they’d rather just look the other way and not confront anything. I’m saying this as someone who’s learned that from Adam. Curiosity is okay. It’s okay to be interested. That’s why I had a little kid come up to me when I was in the prosthetics and was very okay and engaging because that was pure curiosity. There was no judgment yet.

At the same time…there were times when Adam and I were trying to do press together, and we couldn’t… they’d rather only have me. There were things like that that are still not ill-intentioned, but they didn’t want to go there because they didn’t quite know how to deal with [the situation]. As a result, nothing happens.

With The Apprentice, obviously, there’s fatigue and a lot of emotions, and none of that is wrong, but we have to be conscious of that part that leads to fear and indifference. I’ll hear people go, “I’ll watch this after the election.” Well, the world might be very different by that point. It feels a little bit like kicking the can down the road and not confronting reality.

I think this is a unique situation because… we’re confronting something as it’s happening. We’re not waiting 5-10 years after we’ve digested everything. We can look back at the mistakes we made and [whether] that was the right call, and I think that’s what put people in the hot seat. But as I referred to the creative language, it’s about staying curious and open to keep us informed, human to human.

There’s a lot that both of these films are talking about: narcissism, empathy, the loss of self, and acceptance. You’re not necessarily going to get these things from Wikipedia, your email, a news channel, or somebody else telling you on TikTok. You’re going to get that from experiences with other people. When you’re having kids growing up, especially now, with phones and laptops that they’re basically chaining us to, human-to-human connection and empathy are something we have to keep protecting and nourishing. We can do that through movies, books, and art. Not AI algorithms that feed a certain kind of “selective free speech,” but things that reflect how complex [life] is so that we can have an experience. That’s valuable.

I was lucky enough to be in two complicated films that I think were confronting people in certain ways. We’ve been seeing that some people got it, and others aren’t ready for that yet, but I’d rather be on that side than the safe side.