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scoupsakakitty · 2 days ago

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It Was Always You | idol!Wonwoo x Reader | angst, fluff

Y/N stood in front of her apartment window, the cool breeze from the air conditioner brushing against her skin. The city lights of Seoul twinkled outside, but her mind was somewhere else or rather, with someone else. It had been a year since she left for Australia, a year since she and Wonwoo decided to end things.

Back then, it felt like the right choice. He was an idol, constantly busy, and she was about to start her exchange year. A long-distance relationship seemed impossible, and neither of them wanted to deal with the heartache. But what she didn’t know was that Wonwoo never truly let go.

While Y/N posted pictures of her adventures in Australia smiling at beaches, studying in cafés, hanging out with new friends there was always one silent viewer. Wonwoo watched every story, liked every post from a secret account, his heart aching with every picture she posted. Especially the ones with him the guy who seemed to be around her a lot.————————————————————————————-“Y/N’s back,” said Soojin, Mingyu’s girlfriend, casually scrolling through her phone.

Wonwoo’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“She told me yesterday. She’s back from Australia,” Soojin replied, not noticing the way Wonwoo sat up straighter, his jaw tensing slightly.

Mingyu glanced between his best friend and his girlfriend, a smirk creeping onto his face. “She said she still thinks about you, you know.”

That was all it took. Wonwoo didn’t waste another second. He grabbed his jacket, ignoring Mingyu’s teasing, and headed straight to Y/N’s apartment. His heart raced the entire way.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t Y/N. It was him. The guy from the photos.

Wonwoo froze. His heart, which had been pounding with anticipation, sank like a stone. The guy looked surprised but quickly masked it with a polite smile.

“Uh, can I help you?” he asked.

Wonwoo’s voice was tight. “Is Y/N here?”

“She’s… in the shower.” The guy leaned casually against the doorframe with a smirk on his face.

Wonwoo’s chest burned. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his mind racing with questions and his heart heavy with jealousy.————————————————————————————-Weeks passed. Y/N had no idea Wonwoo had come to see her. She noticed he hadn’t viewed her recent stories not from his secret account, at least but she brushed it off. Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe she should too.

One afternoon, Soojin texted her.

“Hey, I’m at the dorm with Mingyu. Can you pick me up? I’m not ready yet.”

Y/N agreed, not thinking much of it. When she arrived, Mingyu opened the door with a grin.

“Y/N! Long time no see,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

She smiled back. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

While waiting, she glanced around. The dorm was the same comfortable, familiar. Memories flooded back. She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is Wonwoo here?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow but nodded toward a closed door. “Yeah, he’s in his room.”————————————————————————————-Y/N stood in front of Wonwoo’s door, her heart racing faster than she expected. She had imagined this moment differently maybe a warm smile, a casual “Hey, long time no see”, some light reminiscing about old times. But as she hesitated for a second and gently pushed the door open, she knew right away this wasn’t going to be like that.

Wonwoo sat on his bed, phone in hand, his expression freezing the moment his eyes met hers. His gaze was cold, distant. Not the Wonwoo she used to know.

“Hey,” she said softly, stepping into the room.

He glanced at her briefly, then looked away. “Hey.”

The single word felt heavy, colder than the Seoul winter outside.

Y/N forced a small smile, trying to ignore the growing tension. “I was here to pick up Soojin… Mingyu said you were in here, so I thought I’d say hi.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond. His fingers tightened slightly around his phone, his jaw clenching. The silence between them was deafening.

“Is something wrong?” she finally asked, her voice quieter now, unsure.

That’s when he snapped.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” His voice was sharper than she expected, filled with frustration.

She blinked, taken aback. “I… I just told you. I thought I’d say hi.”

Wonwoo scoffed, standing up abruptly. “Hi? That’s it?” He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “You disappear for a year, post your perfect little life in Australia, come back, and now you just show up here like nothing happened?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “What are you talking about? We agreed to part ways. We both knew—”

“Yeah, we agreed, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,” he cut her off, his voice low but intense. “I thought about you every single day, Y/N. And then I see you… smiling in every photo, looking like you’ve moved on. Especially with him.”

Her heart raced. “Him?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “Your new boyfriend. The guy from your photos. The one who opened your door when I came to see you.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning. “Wait—what? You came to see me?”

“Yeah. A few weeks ago. I was standing right at your door, heart racing, ready to see you after all this time. But instead of you, he opened the door. Said you were in the shower. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.” His eyes were blazing now, filled with jealousy and something even deeper hurt.

Y/N was speechless for a moment, then suddenly it clicked.

“Hold on… are you talking about Jaehyun?” she asked, her voice rising slightly with disbelief. “You think Jaehyun is my boyfriend?”

“Isn’t he?” Wonwoo shot back, crossing his arms, his body tense.

She let out a frustrated laugh, shaking her head. “Oh my God, are you serious right now? Jaehyun is just a friend! We studied together in Australia. That’s it!”

“Really?” Wonwoo’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Because he sure didn’t act like ‘just a friend.’ And you posting photos with him like you’re the perfect couple.”

Y/N stared at him, her frustration boiling over. “Photos? Photos?! There are literally two photos of us, and we’re in a group with other friends! He just happened to be sitting next to me!”

“Oh, right, just coincidentally sitting next to you in every photo,” he muttered, pacing the room now, unable to contain his emotions.

She followed him, her voice rising. “You’re being ridiculous! You saw two pictures and decided I was in a whole-ass relationship?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think, Y/N?” he snapped, turning to face her again. “I was there, standing in front of your door, hoping you’d be the one to open it. But instead, I get him. In your apartment. Acting like he belongs there.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her own emotions bubbling to the surface. “Maybe you should’ve just asked me instead of assuming things!”

“Why? So you could lie to me like he did?” Wonwoo shot back, his voice louder now. “Do you know how it felt? Seeing you happy with someone else? Like I was the only one stuck in the past, still thinking about you while you’d moved on without a second thought?”

Her heart broke at his words, but the frustration was too strong to hold back. “I didn’t move on!” she yelled, her voice cracking. “I thought about you every single day, Wonwoo! I couldn’t even look at the city lights in Sydney without thinking of you!”

He froze for a second, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. But the jealousy was still there, clouding his thoughts.

“Then why didn’t you reach out?” he whispered, his voice trembling now not with anger, but pain. “Why did you leave me thinking you didn’t care?”

“Because I was scared!” Y/N’s voice softened, tears threatening to fall. “I was scared you’d moved on. That reaching out would just hurt more. So I kept it all inside.”

Wonwoo looked at her, his eyes filled with all the words he never said.

Y/N took a shaky breath, stepping closer. “Do you know how hard it was to pretend I was okay? I watched every single one of your performances online. I saw how amazing you were doing, and I was proud of you. But it also hurt because I wasn’t there to tell you in person.”

His expression finally softened, his guard cracking.

“And for the record,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “Jaehyun never told me you came by. He didn’t tell me anything. And maybe… maybe that’s because he likes me. But I don’t care about him like that. It’s always been you, Wonwoo. Only you.”

Before he could respond, she closed the distance between them, cupping his face and pulling him into a desperate, breathless kiss.

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him, as if afraid she’d disappear again. The kiss was messy, full of emotion anger, longing, relief.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless, he rested his forehead against hers. “You drive me crazy,” he whispered, his voice rough.

She smiled softly through the tears. “Good.”

And then he kissed her again, this time softer but just as intense like a promise.————————————————————————————-When they finally left his room, hand in hand, Mingyu and Soojin sat on the couch, smirking knowingly.

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu teased.

Y/N rolled her eyes, blushing, while Wonwoo simply squeezed her hand tighter.

Soojin grinned. “By the way, I may have planned this so you’d have to see each other.”

Y/N gasped. “You did what?”

Mingyu laughed. “She’s been rooting for you two since day one.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing. Wonwoo leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I’m glad she did.”

That day, the four of them decided to hang out together, but nothing felt the same anymore not for Y/N and Wonwoo. Because now, they were back where they belonged. Together.

————————————————————————————-

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cutielando · 17 hours ago

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runaway bride | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which he saves you from making a mistake

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The soft music echoed through the church hall, making you let out a deep breath.

There you stood, in front of the huge double oak doors, waiting for the moment to finally walk down the aisle and marry Aiden, your boyfriend of 2 years.

After you had broken up with Charles, you didn't think you would ever find the same kind of love again. The bond that you shared with the Monegasque was something so strong and beautiful, you thought it was for life.

Then, you met Aiden.

He was sweet, kind, understanding, loving. He was an incredible guy, a guy who took care of you, who respected you and who made sure you were safe and taken care of.

However, deep into your heart, you knew the truth that nobody could ever change: he wasn't Charles.

He didn't make you feel the same things that Charles could, he didn't make you feel alive, like every fiber of your being was on fire, he wasn't as passionate and intense as Charles was.

He was just...Aiden.

But you felt comfort that you hadn't felt in a long time, which was the primary reason why you had accepted his proposal. He offered you safety, offered you comfort and stability.

You would learn how to truly love him down the line.

Or so you tried to convince yourself whenever you would get cold feet about going through with the wedding.

"Are you ready?" your father's voice suddenly pulled you back to reality, the oak doors now open, the entire hall looking at the two of you.

You smiled tightly and nodded, looping your arm through his as you slowly started walking towards the aisle.

Watching all the guests around you, a sort of guilt settled deep inside of your gut.

All these people, all of your families having gathered here today to watch you and Aiden get married, watching you supposedly seal your fate and look to a 'happy' future with him.

Not knowing that, deep inside, you knew it was anything but that.

Upon reaching the altar, your father gave you away to Aiden, who took your hand and helped you up the steps.

"You look beautiful" he whispered, his eyes twinkling.

You smiled, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

He didn't deserve this, you knew that. He deserved to be getting married to someone who truly loved him, who wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

But that person wasn't you, and it was probably very selfish of you to go through with the wedding while knowing that your heart belonged to someone else.

What choice did you have, though?

All of these people, your entire families, waiting for this day for months. Aiden, finally happy to have found his one true love.

How could you possibly ruin that?

"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the wedding of Y/N Y/LN and Aiden Becker" the bishop started, prompting the entire wedding hall to sit down and listen with eager.

You didn't hear anything else after that, your feelings all over the place as you looked anywhere but Aiden's eyes.

The church was silent, all oblivious to the internal turmoil you were having before their eyes. Your mother couldn't keep her eyes off of you, and once you had made eye contact with her, you could have sworn that she nodded slightly, a look of understanding in her eyes.

She knew, probably better than anyone, about your conflicting feelings for both Aiden and Charles. She knew how hard it was for you when you and Charles broke up, and she knew that Aiden would never measure up to the way Charles made you feel. She was your mother, after all. She knew you better than anyone.

Out of the corner of your eye, suddenly, you saw movement at the far end of the room, right by the big oak doors you had walked through mere moments before.

Your heart started beating out of your chest as you saw who it was.

Him.

He was standing there in a clad black Ferrari suit, his hands in his pockets, not moving an inch.

Your eyes widened slightly, fixated on his figure standing a mere few feet away from you. He didn't make any move to walk closer, to actually enter the church hall.

He just stood there, his eyes widening in awe as he took you in, tears slowly welling up in his eyes.

Your stomach was in shambles as you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. He was just as beautiful as you had remembered, his eyes just as kind as they used to be.

All kinds of emotions were running through you, making your head spin and your nerves go into overdrive.

Why did he do this? Why did he show up on what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life? Why did he have to show up at your wedding?

Maybe because he knew you would leave Aiden behind and run to him, you thought to yourself.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" the priest's voice suddenly made you whip your head around.

The entire hall was staring at you, Aiden looked concerned and was looking at you with a worried expression, and nobody had seemed to have seen Charles standing right outside the doors.

"I, um, I..." you croaked, not being able to find your words.

You looked around once again, Charles' figure giving you a sad smile before he slowly began to retreat, up until he was now out of sight.

Desperately searching for a sign on what to do, your eyes gravitated towards your mother, hoping you would be able to communicate with her through your eyes.

And there she was, smiling subtly at you, her eyes sparkling as she gave you a very tiny nod.

That was all the confirmation that you had needed.

You looked back at Aiden, who had an expression like he knew exactly what was about to happen and he knew it had been a long time coming.

"I'm so sorry, Aiden" you whispered, slowly letting go of his hands before you sprinted out of the church hall, leaving behind you dozens of shocked guests.

You quickly ran out of the church, bursting through the front doors and stepping out into the warm summer day.

And then, there he was.

Leaning against his car right in front of the church, his hands crossed against his chest.

And he was smiling.

For a little while, neither of you knew what to say. You had just left your future husband at the altar for him, and he had just shown up at his ex-girlfriend's wedding.

What could a person even say in this situation?

"What are you doing here?" that was the best you could muster up, your voice not louder than a soft whisper.

Charles could only imagine how you must be feeling.

Years after you guys broke up, on the happiest day of your new life, he decides to show up. He knew it was going to be a very long shot, and he was aware that it was extremely rude of him to be showing up at your wedding.

But he couldn't help himself.

He couldn't bear the thought of ever seeing you married to someone else, someone who wasn't him.

Just like he couldn't bear not being with you any longer.

"I couldn't let you go through with the wedding" he said, his expression now somber.

He knew he was already pushing his luck, but he had already ruined your wedding. What more harm could he do?

Dozens of emotions were cursing through your veins, some of which you couldn't even identify.

Hurt? Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment in yourself? Longing for what you once had with Charles? Guilt over a thrown-away future with a great man?

But even in the midst of all the confusing emotions, there was one that stood out between the sea of doubt, clear like a new day.

Your unwavering love for Charles.

A feeling that has not changed from the beginning.

"Why now?" you whispered, your shoulders sagging in defeat.

There was no point in trying to act like you weren't so glad to see him, like your heart wasn't beating out of your chest as you stood in front of him, like you weren't dying to be in his arms after such a long time.

Charles sighed and pushed himself off the car, taking a few steps closer to you until he was almost chest-to-chest with you.

Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body against yours for the first time in years. You had missed it so much, so much more than you had ever admitted to yourself.

"I've spent the past couple of years kicking myself for making the mistake of pushing you away from me. I've never forgiven myself for the way our relationship ended, and I don't think I'll ever be able to put into words just how sorry I am. The moment I found out you were marrying someone else, I couldn't not do anything. I know I sound selfish, and I know it's not fair of me to barge in like this, but if there was even a tiny chance that you might still feel the same way about me, I had to take it" he said, and as you stared into his eyes, you couldn't see even a sign of dishonesty.

He was being real, he was being brutally honest, probably more honest than he had ever been with you before.

And he was completely right, which was probably the worst thing about the whole situation. He was right, you did still love him just as deeply as you had before. And deep down, you probably had hoped that he would show up and save you from making a mistake by marrying Aiden.

"You've always had a flair for the dramatic, you know" you said, hoping the joke would lighten up the atmosphere.

Charles chuckled, nodding his head. He looked up at you again, his eyes sparkling with a sliver of hope.

"Do you want to go somewhere quiet and talk about this?" he asked, a deeper, hidden meaning planted behind his words.

You drew in a breath, but didn't feel any pain or heaviness in your chest. All you felt was peace, peace and love for the man standing right before you.

"Yeah, I'd like that" you said, smiling before giving him your hand, which he gladly took.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his Ferrari, his hand tightly holding onto yours, driving away from the church and ceremony that was supposed to change your life.

But why change it when you had everything you had ever wanted for, right in this car?

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krys4h · 3 days ago

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ꪆৎ cw ʚ bestfriend!kaiser, girly!reader + weightlifter!, smut, size kink, spitting, choking, rough sex◞ ྀི

“You're really strong.”

Sitting on your best friend's back, Kaiser was doing push-ups with disconcerting ease.

“You doubted me?” his lips curved into his signature smirk.

You rolled your eyes. Arrogant asshole.

“Of course not.”

You had been going to the gym with Kaiser for months now. Your wardrobe had to accommodate all your new gym outfits, it was now overflowing with light pink shorts and cycling shorts, comfortable and girly clothes for your new passion : weight lifting. Kaiser found it cute to see you pink from head to toe, even your water bottle.

It was only recently that you motivated yourself to go to the gym and adopted healthy habits. Kaiser was a valuable ally in your new goal because he knew a lot about this subject.

“Keep your back straight,” he ordered, his hand on your lower back when you were doing squats.

He corrected you during all your exercises like a coach, he was uncompromising and didn’t let you make any mistakes. While you were doing exercises, he watched you attentively, making sure your posture was perfect. He really acted like a coach.

“I’m so energetic today, I feel I could do a two-hour session,” you said enthusiastically.

Kaiser chuckled, finding you cute.

“Careful, you’re gonna exhaust yourself,” he sat on a bench, looking at you doing your squats.

“You always work out until you’re exhausted, why can’t I do the same,” you tilted your head, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“It’s a bodybuilding method. Work until failure so you don’t stagnate in your results. Something for real athletes and not beginners like you.”

“In my head, you’re just a masochist,” you rolled your eyes and stopped doing your squats. It was a warm-up for the real workout. You walked to the upper body machine area, and stopped at the shoulder press machine. You selected the weight you wanted to lift and got into position. Kaiser was working out on a machine, leaving you alone since you were on a machine, you didn’t need help with your posture. Before you started your exercise, a man approached you.

“You’re gonna have a muscle contracture if you leave your arms that straight, pretty.”

You observed the man who approached you, he was tall and attractive. Heat rushed into your cheeks when he called you “pretty”, and you nodded, correcting your posture. It was Kaiser’s role usually, but you didn’t mind being helped by handsome men.

You continued your workout quietly. The man stayed with you from time to time and chatted with you. His company didn’t bother you, and you spoke to him enthusiastically in return. You were happy to make new friends.

At the end of your workout, you exchanged numbers. That’s when Kaiser came back to you. He frowned when he saw the man next to you, and automatically moved closer to you.

“Who is he?” he asked, watching the man leave the gym.

“A new friend I made.”

“Friend? You exchanged numbers.” his frown deepened as the conversation continued. He didn’t like what was happening at all.

“Yeah, to keep in touch, dummy.”

You were oblivious to his budding jealousy. Kaiser liked you for a long time, but he was waiting for the right moment to talk about his feelings so as not to ruin your friendship. He wasn’t sure if his feelings were reciprocated, so he was careful not to make a mistake.

Kaiser was unusually silent on the way back to your apartment. You were sharing an apartment, so there was bound to be a time when you would have to unravel the mystery of his bad mood.

Arriving at your apartment, you slumped down on the couch. Your apartment had been decorated by you, there were plants everywhere, making the interior warm and lively. There were pictures of you and Kaiser on the walls, pictures that dated back to when you were teenagers. You looked at the pictures on the wall with a nostalgic smile.

“Hey, remember my birthday when I was 17? You ate all the cake, you got sick,” you chuckled but you stopped when you noticed that Kaiser remained silent, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the ground.

He wore black gym shorts, and a baggy black t-shirt that despite its width, revealed massive, bulging muscles through the fabric. With his height and his dark expression, he looked intimidating.

“Are you okay? You’ve been sulky since the gym,” you asked, your tone cautious.

You got up from the couch and walked over to him. You cupped his face with your hands, lifting it to make him look at you.

“What’s the problem, baby?”

“You.” he looked away.

"Me?" you narrowed your eyes.

“Yeah, you.”

A silence settled in in which you stared at him but he looked elsewhere, avoiding your gaze, his jaw clenched. His heart was racing, because he wanted to say it. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, and it killed him to see you give your attention to other men. That he wanted all of you just for himself. That he loved everything about you, including your annoying side. That you were his dream girl since forever.

And the best way to tell you this is to show it physically, that’s why he wrapped his arms around your waist and crushed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened with shock as you let him kiss you. He put all his frustration from earlier into that kiss, pressing his lips with force. You didn’t understand what was happening, but you weren’t against it.

“You’ve always been mine, why are you trying to escape me now,” he muttered against your lips, nibbling on your lower lip.

“Escape? I didn’t try to escape you…”

“You did. Just an hour ago,” the edge of his tongue traced your mouth, and you parted your lips, waiting for him to kiss you for real.

“It was just a friend, Micha.”

“Fuck him,” he captured your lips into a kiss, your tongues tangling together. “Nobody has the right to have you except me.”

He wrapped his arms around you, his arms under your ass to lift you. He carried you while kissing you to the sofa before placing you on it.

“Let me show you what it's like to be mine, you'll never want another man again,” he undid the elastic of his shorts.

That’s how you found yourself laying on the couch, your hand covering your moans as Kaiser pounded into you. He had his hand on your throat, choking you as his hips rocked into you with force and aggressiveness.

“Who has the right to see you like this? Who has the right to touch like this, mhm ?” he panted out, his eyes drinking in your appearance, his eyes hungry for you.

You struggled to answer him because your breathing was ragged. You placed your hands on his abdomen, trying to push him away, wanting him to slow down.

“Tell me *thrust* who has *thrust* the right *thrust* to fuck you like this?”

His hand around your throat squeezed even more, as obscene noises were drawn out of him. His panting intensified with each deep stroke, and it was as if he was killing your insides every time he buried himself in you.

“Y-You,” you whined, your tight heat aching because of his size.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirked and he slammed his hips against yours again with even more force, his frantic pace making you lose your mind.

“I can’t take it, Micha, I can’t take it !” Your eyes watered as you pushed him with all your strength, trying to get away from him. He was so big, every time he was plunging in, the stretch was so intense that your breathing stopped and you felt so full that you could explode.

“Stop running away from that dick, baby. It’s yours,” he released your throat, and placed his hands under your knees. He pushed your legs until your knees were next to your head. The new angle made everything deeper, his cock slamming against your g-spot every time he thrusted into you. You rolled your eyes to the back of your head as your legs trembled. You were a mess, moaning and whining, your eyes full of tears. The dick was too good, and he was so big it hurt.

“Micha, it hurts…”

“I know,” one of his hands released your leg, and went between the two of you to rub your clit with his fingers. He slowed down his thrusts, and kept rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves with his index and middle fingers.

The stretch became less painful, but it felt even better when Kaiser pushed out of you, and spat on your abused cunt. He spread the string of saliva between your folds, and when he shoved himself into you again, it was no longer painful. He bent over to kiss your forehead.

“Look at you, taking it like a big girl,” he whispered in a low voice, his eyes full of love, a contrast with the brutality of his thrusts.

The sound of your sweaty bodies colliding enveloped the room and the wet squelching of your pussy coating his dick could be heard.

“Look at us,” he gazed at where your bodies connected, every time he pushed out, you could see the milky white ring of your arousal, and every time he pushed in your hole greedily sucked him in.

“I made a mess,” you panted, feeling the wet couch under your ass.

“It’s okay. Let’s make a mess all night, love.”

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

#𐙚 writings 𓍢ִ🌸˙#michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock kaiser #bllk kaiser #kaiser bllk #bllk x reader #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x you #michael kaiser smut #kaiser smut #kaiser michael #divider by plutism

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seitmai · 3 days ago

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So many thoughts

He was gripping the steering wheel of the blue Bronco, and you waited silently for the engine to start. But it didn't. He barely moved. And you barely moved. But you couldn't step away from the window even as the light inside the Bronco faded into the night. Everything was silent. Your pounding heartbeat was all you could hear as the baby squirmed around in your belly like she knew her father was too far away from her now. Minutes passed, and you sank down onto the couch, but Bradley never started the engine.

I can't 😭

Your emotions were a mess as you eventually left the couch to get ready for bed. After you checked on Rose, finding her sound asleep in her crib without a care in the world, you peeked outside one more time. Bradley was still in the driveway, watching over the Craftsman and everything inside. You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

And I am trying to read through my tears 🥲

It was cold outside this late in October, but Bradley sucked it up. He was certain you knew he was still sitting in the driveway, and he didn't want to start the engine at three in the morning and startle you. Or make you think he was leaving. He wasn't going anywhere. So he let the cold surround him. Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family.

I respect that

Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

I just wanna give him a hug 🫂

There was no way to convince you he wasn't lying. There was nothing he could say at this point that wouldn't sound like he was trying to cover his own ass. You could talk to Mav or Nat or Jake until they were blue in the face, but if you didn't trust him, it would sound like everyone was covering for him. Because truthfully, only he and Lieutenant Jeffries knew for sure that Bradley had never touched her.

Unfortunately this is very true..

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

🥺🥺🥺

His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer.

I'm glad though that this serves as a reminder that he hast to get his husband and dad duties back in order☝🏻

Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

I really hope for everyone's safety he is not going in the air today 🥴

The walk to his office was long, but not long enough for inspiration to strike. Maybe Nat could give him some advice. She'd been harping on about girl code the other day. As much as he hated to admit it, Jake might be a helpful ally right now. He was a big fan of yours, and always quick to remind Bradley he'd married way out of his league.

Yeah let's round the troops, because he won't get out of this alone when he didn't even realize his fuck up on his own 🫣

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again.

Not to be petty, but I'm glad he gets a taste of his own medicine with BG and her pregnancy symptoms 🤷🏻‍♀️

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fingers wrapping around the bottle so aggressively, he was afraid it would explode in his hand. He'd been told to keep his distance for now, but clearly Indigo was none the wiser as she followed him right inside his office.

This bitch 😤

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you." Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

STAND 👏🏻 YOUR 👏🏻GROUND👏🏻ROOSTER👏🏻

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time." "You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead.

No fucking way!! But I mean with her behavior this should not surprise me 🤦🏻‍♀️🥴

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

Dont get me wrong, I think this is absolutely vile behavior, especially directly to BG, but she is just using the rules that always held women especially in male dominated field back and plays it with her own rules, so I kinda get it were she's coming from.. it's like the "women in male field" trend in a way, in a very morally fucked up way 😅🙈

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!" Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -" "She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

Halleluja 👏🏻🙏🏻

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

Omg this is perfect!

When he held his arms open, you rushed into them, burying your face in his chest as you wailed. He had no idea why you were in his office, but if the end result was getting to hold you tight, he didn't need a reason. As soon as you touched him, he immediately felt better.

🥹🥹🥹

"No. It's not okay," came your immediate, muffled response, arms tightening around him. "I made you sleep outside. I told you I'd leave with the girls." You looked up at him, tears brimming from your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you." Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

Ahh finally, I feel like I can breathe again😅

Bradley kissed your quivering lips as you started to calm down. "Please never leave me. I'm not going to stop being in love with you. Okay? I just want my girls." With one more kiss, he whispered, "And there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're perfect." The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

Yes he did 👏🏻😌

"I hate her." "Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo.

Me, three

He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home." "Home?" "Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home." Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you." When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately." "We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling.

🥰🥰🥰

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall." "What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?" You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together."

Iconic 👏🏻 😂

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway. "Nobody messes with my husband."

And BG takes that promise seriously ☝🏻

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner." "Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?" "Tomorrow."

Aim for the Sky Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're conflicted by your own words, unsure if you can stay away from your husband. There's only one person who can tell you the truth about Bradley, but she's the same one who seems to be on a quest to ruin your life.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, mentions of cheating

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Tramp whimpered at your feet. The muffled sound of the Bronco's door closing sent you to the front window to look out onto the driveway. It was dark, but you could see Bradley's tear-streaked face lit up by the dome light as you choked on a sob. It took everything you had to stand there instead of running to him.

You wanted him to come back inside, but you just told him you wouldn't hesitate to take the kids and move back to Maryland with your parents. "What did you do?" you gasped as fresh tears filled your eyes. You couldn't tell if you were being strong or stupid or some combination of the two, but the longer you stared out the window, the more you realized Bradley wasn't leaving you even though you told him to.

Relief washed over you knowing he wasn't running off to Indigo. Maybe there was a way to salvage things. You couldn't take back what you said, and he couldn't take back anything he'd already done with her, but you didn't think you could stop loving him. You didn't think you could separate him from his daughters.

You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

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

Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family. And he wanted to be as close as you'd let him. Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

Everything with the Navy took time. Mav was a big help, but a report would need to be written up for formal action. And now Bradley would need to notify someone about the new message Indigo sent with the world's worst timing, but meanwhile he was supposed to carry on like everything was completely normal.

As soon as daylight broke, he rubbed his exhaustion away from his eyes. He wanted to get to base to shower and change into the clean flight suit he kept in his locker, but he had to make sure you knew he spent the whole night in the Bronco first. So Bradley waited until he saw movement inside. Just a quick flick of the living room curtain, but he was sure you saw him. Nevertheless, he sent a text.

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

He didn't expect you to respond right away. He stretched, his body positively aching from sitting in one spot for so long before he started the engine. His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer.

The locker room was empty as he changed out of his wrinkly uniform and slipped under the hot shower stream. Nothing was going to make him feel better if you didn't trust him. Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

As he pulled on his flight suit, he thought about going up to your office to wait for you to arrive. But he'd end up on his knees again, begging you to stay with him, and that wasn't what you needed to hear right now. He was exhausted, but he tried to clear his mind and think of some way to convince you he would never do anything to hurt you. But if Indigo already made comments directly to you, it felt like all hope was lost.

He settled in behind his desk, unable to look away from the wedding photo for a few minutes. You looked perfect that day. You were perfect every day. There was no doubt you'd be perfect without him, but he didn't want you going anywhere unless you took him, too.

"Fuck," Bradley gasped, lungs burning with the effort to hold back his tears. His students would be sitting down to take a practicum exam shortly. He didn't necessarily need to be there, but it would look good if he was. But he'd also have to face Indigo in the classroom. Maverick was still up in Lemoore, and he was the only one who knew Bradley filed a formal complaint.

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again. He needed something to drink. Some cold water. He threw his office door open wide and walked back up the hallway to the small lounge where he grabbed a water bottle and downed it in one go. Panting, he took a second one before slowly heading back the way he came.

He didn't even feel better as he started sweating profusely. He wanted you. He wanted you to let him hold you. He wanted to kiss Rose.

His office door was just a few feet away when he heard her voice.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

"Sir," she said, voice bold and unbothered. "I thought we could walk to the classroom together."

Bradley spun and looked at her. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point. He also shouldn't be talking to her alone in his office, but she was standing there expectantly, blinking those eyes up at him.

"Unless you're not ready to head over yet...."

Her words trailed off as she casually reached for the door, fingers grazing the wood.

"Do not close that door," Bradley barked, surprising himself with his angry tone. Indigo's hand dropped to her side, eyes wide, but she took a step closer as he backed up until he hit his desk. He managed to set the water bottle down, chest rising and falling rapidly. He shouldn't be talking to her, but he couldn't help himself as he shook his head. "What is your problem?"

She cocked her head slightly, a hesitant smile on her lips. "Sir?"

Bradley skirted along past his desk as she tracked him. "I don't understand why you're trying to ruin my life," he hissed.

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you."

Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time."

"You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead.

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

"Unbelievable," Bradley groaned, ready to throw away all of his insignia pins and run away. "Lieutenant Jeffries, I have never laid a finger on you. We've never been alone in here with the door closed, ever."

"But you wanted to. You can admit it," she whispered, reaching once more for the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!"

Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -"

"She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

He was afraid she wasn't going to listen, the way she stood there and stared at him in surprise. But Bradley had nothing left. His fingers were shaking, and he was sure he was going to vomit. She finally turned and marched from the room with her chin in the air, and Bradley turned to face his desk.

Panic like he never felt before filled his veins. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now as he gripped the edge of his desk and stared down at his boots. His body shook with silent sobs as he tried to catch his breath, but his brain couldn't seem to get past the fact that his life was in absolute ruins.

"Oh, God," he gasped, lifting his head in time to see his office door move a few inches. Before he could fully register what was happening, you popped out from behind it and carefully pushed it closed.

"Sweetheart?" he croaked, examining your tear-streaked cheeks before you stumbled closer to him.

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you sobbed over and over, body shaking against him. "I was so scared, and I look so awful right now. And I'm just so sorry!"

"Shhh," he coaxed softly, kissing the top of your head before letting his chin rest there. "It's okay."

Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

He let you cry, wiping your tears with his thumb as they fell for the longest time. He already felt like he could figure out a way to fix everything as long as you still wanted him.

The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

"Baby Girl, that's what I tell everybody," he promised, relieved beyond belief that you witness that miserable exchange. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, keeping you snug against him as you looked up at his face. "Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you to want to see me."

"I came to talk to you as soon as I dropped Rose off." You wiped your tears on his flight suit as you added, "When I got here, the door was wide open, so I came inside. Then I heard her voice in the hallway. I panicked and hid behind the door."

"And I couldn't be happier that you did," he whispered.

"She really wanted to close the door."

"She really did."

"I hate her."

"Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo. He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home."

Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you."

When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately."

"We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling. "I just need to talk to Cat first."

Bradley groaned softly. He was already imagining the three of you at home. He would make lunch while you fed Rose, and then everyone could take a long nap. He just wanted everything to feel normal again.

"Why do you need Cat first?"

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall."

"What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?"

You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together." You paused. "You know what? I'll just call Cat when we get home. I'm sure we can handle it from there. I really want to snuggle with you, and I'm starving."

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway.

"Nobody messes with my husband."

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

You felt alive again for the first time in weeks. You were thriving. Bradley never let you out of his sight as he made lunch and burped Rose. He put her down in her crib, wrapped you in his arms, and led you toward the promise of an afternoon nap.

"Wait, Cat's calling me back," you whispered, watching his face fall as he tried to get you to the bedroom. "It'll just take a minute."

"I can barely keep my eyes open," he murmured, kissing your cheek before you backed away. "Just come in when you're done."

You watched him turn to the bedroom, pulling his undershirt over his head as he went. The temptation of his warm body wrapped around yours was almost too much to fight, but when you thought about Indigo, you wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or her face.

"Hi."

"Where are you?" Cat asked. "I thought I saw you in the parking lot this morning, and now you're magically nowhere to be found."

"I'm at home," you told her quickly. "Hey, how close are you to finishing the new code for the Super Hornet updates?"

There was a beat of silence. "Not that close. We aren't rolling out the updates until the end of the year. It'll ground some of the pilots."

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner."

"Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?"

"Tomorrow."

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

Hearing that straight from Indigo had to make BG feel so much better! Is this me being nicer? Beginning to mend things? Stay tuned.

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luvacookie · 2 days ago

Text

୨୧ say cheese.

choso kamo always gets what he wants in the end.

❥ warnings : kind of stalker choso, alcohol usage, light smut, photo taking, fem blk coded reader, intended use of lower case.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : a little choso drabble bcs im going through it and need him biblically. also ignoring that ive been missing for 9 months…

possessive ! choso who likes to poke fun at you all the time, loving to get you all riled up because it’s cute to see you with an attitude

possessive ! choso who sneaks his way into your life almost daily, some how finding away to piss you off differently every single day

possessive ! choso who tells you that it’s just a joke and to lighten up when you snap at him

“it’s not fucking funny ! is it that hard to leave me alone ?” you shout at him, your hands resting on your hips.

he raises his hands, a small smirk on his face. “i’m sorry princess, forgot how sensitive you are.”

possessive ! choso who watches as you stomp away, muttering profanity under your breath about how much you hate his stupid face

possessive ! choso who had been following your every move for longer than you could imagine, silently stalking you on your socials and even going as far to sometimes stalk you in person

possessive ! choso whose gears grind when he sees you talking to literally any other male but him, you were his after all

“your new boyfriend is cute isn’t he ?” he asks playfully, though his joking demeanour doesn’t quite match the dull look in his eyes.

you scoff, “him ? my boyfriend ? you insult me. he’s just a friend.”

“that’s why you were all fucking over him, yeah ?” he mumbles, looking off to the side somewhere.

possessive ! choso who goes to all the same social events as you because it gives him an opportunity to see you all dolled up and outside of college

possessive ! choso who sees you at a party dancing with another guy and something inside of him snaps

possessive ! choso who drags you away from the random, forcing you into a close proximity with him and him only

“what the fuck !” you shout at him, mildly intoxicated and definitely angered.

“why were you all up on that guy y/n ? you know he was just trying to get a quick fuck from you,” he says harshly, missing the way your face contorts.

you scoffed in his face. “so what, maybe i wanted a quick fuck from him too.”

possessive ! choso whose blood boils at the statement, disgusted at the thought of that creep putting his cock in you

possessive ! choso who ushers you up stairs into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind him

possessive ! choso who kisses you roughly as soon as he gets his hands on you

“such a needy slut huh ?” he mocks you, breathing heavily whilst you whine at him for more.

“shut the fuck up and kiss me choso,” you snap, dragging him back in for a longer, more heated makeout.

he moans against your lips and pushes you on the bed, “wanted this for so long princess.”

possessive ! choso leaving dark bites all over your exposed skin, warning off anyone who dared to come near you for the rest of the night

possessive ! choso undressing you swiftly then getting his phone out of his back pocket

“smile baby, want everyone to know who you belong to,” he mumbles, angling the camera over your body.

you comply with him, giving him a sweet, innocent smile.

“fuckkkk... i’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he groans, the flash highlighting all your curves.

possessive ! choso who follows through on his words, giving you the most soul-shattering orgasm of your life

possessive ! choso who sets that picture as his lock screen when he’s done so he can always stare at your beautiful body and face

#🍪: alexies cookie crumbs.#jjk x black!fem reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso smut #choso x reader #jjk #choso kamo #x reader

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austinbutlerslovers · 3 days ago

Text

New Neighbor

Label 18+

Summary Your new neighbor is a hot fit biker. The strong silent type, and all you can think about is how to make him yours, because you love a challenge, and you always get what you want.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Handsome new neighbor •Female in heat • promiscuous girl • teasing • Benny playing hard to get • trying to dominate Benny • manhandled by Benny • rough sex • size kink• girl on top • P in V • doggy style • rendered senseless • orgasms • after care

New Neighbor

The first time you catch a glimpse of your new neighbor moving in, you nearly drop the tray of muffins in your hands.

God, was he hot.

Standing at least 6’ ft broad-shouldered with muscled arms exposed under a sleeveless tee, he looked like he’d been carved straight out of some sinful fantasy.

His sandy brown hair was just long enough to curl at the ends, and that goatee? Pure rugged perfection. Add in piercing blue eyes and the Harley parked outside, and you were officially a goner.

He didn’t seem like the chatty type—strong, silent, mysterious even. And if there was one thing you liked, it was a challenge.

You watch him from your kitchen window longer than you intended before deciding theres no way in hell were you going to let the other nosy neighbors get to him first.

You threw together a welcome basket, just an excuse to knock on his door, and maybe—just maybe—see if those biceps felt as good as they looked.

Before heading out, you made sure to tug your top down showing just enough cleavage to grab his attention, then with your heart racing and confidence high, you knocked on his door, basket in hand.

A moment later, the door swung open, and there he was, leaning lazily against the frame, his eyes sweeping over you with keen interest.

Up close, he was even hotter —unfairly good-looking, with a slow, knowing smile that knocked every damn word right out of your mouth.

“Hey,” he drawled, his voice deep and smooth. “What’s this?”

You blinked up at him, your brain scrambling to function.

“I, uh… welcome basket.” You shoved it toward him wide eyed and breathless.“Just a —little something to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering just enough to send a heat rushing through your veins. “Nice of you,” he says, taking it from your hands. “Name’s Benny.”

Your lips curve into a flirtatious smile seeing he’s interested. “If you need anything, Benny, don’t hesitate to ask.” you add, your eyes shamelessly wandering over his biceps. “Any little thing you can think of.”

Benny’s brows lift, and that damn handsome smirk widens even more. “I can think of something right now,” he says stepping aside and ushering you in.

You don’t hesitate, walking inside as he shuts the door behind you.

The place is neat, though distinctly his- a leather jacket draped over a chair, a duffel bag half-unpacked in the corner, and tools spread across the kitchen counter. His riding gloves sit beside an open beer, and a stack of mail is tossed haphazardly on the table.

“Nice place,” you say, sliding onto a stool as he hands you a beer.

“Didn’t think I’d be entertaining this soon,” he smirks, leaning against the counter.

“Am I entertaining?” you tease, taking a sip.

“Oh, you’re somethin’,” he drawls, his gaze lingering on you as you cross your legs, playing up the way your skirt rides up just a little higher than whats modest.

The conversation flows easily, filled with teasing remarks and stolen glances. Benny watches you with a knowing smirk as you lay it on thick, your hand occasionally brushing his arm, your smile lingering as you look at him through your lashes.

At one point, he chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t hold back, do you?”

You tilt your head innocently. “Why should I?”

He exhales a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Woman after my own heart.”

You look away grinning. “And something more.”you admit finishing your beer.

His smirk deepens and there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something careful despite the obvious heat between you.

He’s holding back for such a hard man, with all his strength and rugged intensity— and you can tell.

When you finally leave, you’re half-disappointed he didn’t bend you over the counter and render you senseless like you wanted.

But it was fine—you liked a slow burn, and by the way his eyes lingered on you as you walked away, you had no doubt he was thinking about you, just as much as you were thinking about him.

The sound of Benny’s Harley rumbling to life jolts you awake. You scramble to the window in the morning, watching as he straddles his Harley, his muscles flexing under his tee. He looks like a goddamn dream, and you bite your lip, watching him drive off.

Today was the day. You were gonna look cute, you were gonna see him again, and this time, he wasn’t gonna be able to resist you.

You throw on the tiniest pair of shorts you own, tie a tee at the waist, and step outside—only to realize the sky has darkened and the air is heavy with moisture.

A drizzle starts, and as you glance toward Benny’s porch, you spot his laundry still hanging on the line.

Then, like the universe is testing you, the sky opens up.

“Shit,” you mutter, dashing toward his laundry, snatching towels and jeans off the line as the rain soaks through your own clothing in the process.

You’re hauling an armful of damp clothes toward his door when the rumble of his engine startles you.

Benny pulls up just as you reach the porch, dismounting smoothly. He takes one look at you, drenched and clutching his laundry, and smirks.

“That’s cute,” he says, striding over to help.

“I wasn’t gonna let your stuff get ruined,” you insist stepping inside as he holds the door open for you.

He follows, shaking off the rain as you both drop the clothes onto the counter. The air between you shifts—humid and thick with something unsaid.

You glance at him, both of you soaked, his shirt clinging to the hard lines of his chest as he watches you, the water dripping down your form, your shirt practically see-through, your breaths coming in short, uneven pants.

“Persistent little thing, aren’t you?” He says his voice low and filled with quiet longing.

You meet his gaze, pulse hammering as every nerve in your body ignites with anticipation. “I always get what I want Benny,” you whisper, stepping closer, your hands sliding over his firm biceps.

A smirk plays at his lips as he takes you in, his blue eyes dark with desire. “You’ve got me,” he says, his voice low and rough and before you know it, his hands are on your waist gripping you close as his mouth crashes against yours.

The force of him steals your breath, his body hard and unyielding as he walks you backward toward the bedroom.

Clothes come off piece by piece, your hands trailing down his toned chest until you lay back on his bed. He unbuttons his jeans, holding them at the waist as you slip your panties down.

You watch, breathless, as he digs through a drawer, retrieving a condom and when he finally pushes his jeans down, your eyes widen as they slide down his hips, your breath hitching at the size of his cock.

He grins at your expression. “Better than you imagined?”

You swallow hard, heat rushing to your cheeks. “M-much more,” you stutter, barely able to form words.

His smirk deepens as he rolls the condom on slow and patient as his gaze locks on yours. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, sweetheart.”

He climbs over you, his abs flexing with each movement, every curve of his body defined and powerful. The length of his cock brushes against your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth against your skin as he positions himself above you, his biceps flexing as he holds himself up.

But you’re not about to let him take control that easy.

You push against his chest, surprising him as you force him onto his back. He lets you, his grin widening as he settles against the mattress, his hands immediately finding your waist, holding you firm.

“You gonna take me?” he grins his eyes dark with amusement and something more dangerous.

“Mmhmm” you say defiantly biting your lip as you climb onto him, straddling his hips.

Your hands trail down his chest, feeling the firm ridges of muscle beneath your fingertips as you slowly lower yourself down on him. His cock is thick, stretching you wide, forcing a deep moan from your lips as your body adjusts to the sheer size of him.

“C’mon, sweetheart, take me,” he taunts, his voice thick with heat. As you struggle his hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples as he thrusts up into you, making you gasp the stretch so deep it makes your eyes squeeze shut.

He keeps goading, bucking his hips, filling you deep and you moan taking each hard thrust until you regain your senses, practically bunny bouncing on him.

“Fuck thats it ,” he rasps, watching your body take him. “Look at you.”

You do—you watch him, watch the way his jaw clenches, the way he pants, the way his hands grip your hips firm as you begin to ride him harder. He meets you thrust for thrust, his groans of satisfaction driving you faster.

“Taking me good,” he grunts, his eyes locked on yours, his praise making your body burn hotter as the room fills with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your breathless moans and Benny’s deep, husky praises.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his hands, squeezing your hips claiming you harder. “Doing real damn good.”

You shudder your head tipping back as you orgasm rocking your hips against him in sweet bliss.

Suddenly, the room spins as Benny flips you onto your back in one fluid motion, his strength sending a thrill through your dazed body. Your hands fly up, and he grips your wrists in one hand, pinning you as he kneels between your thighs, positioning himself once more.

“You didn't take me all the way” he rasps. “Now I gotta finish what you started” he breathes, his cock pressing insistently at your entrance.

“Please Benny,” you practically moan and your eyes roll back as he pushes into you all over again, stretching you to the brink, satisfying you so deep you can hardly breathe.

He grips your wrists firm, his muscles flexing hard as he slams against you, each thrust making the bed creak as you wail, your cries filling the air loud enough to wake the neighbors.

The pressure of his cock, the intensity of him, it’s almost too much—but you don’t want him to stop.

You come in seconds, your hips pushing up as your orgasm rolls through you, the pleasure so high it steals every bit of breath from your lungs.

The second your body slacks, he pulls out, only to flip you onto your stomach, making you gasp as he drags the thick head of his cock through your slick heat before pushing back in with one deep claiming stroke.

The bed shakes as he takes you from the back, his hands pulling you into every hard unrelenting thrust as he fucks you incoherent against the mattress.

“Benny,” you moan, your face flushed, your cheek pressed to the sheets as the bed rocks beneath you. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he fucks you harder, faster, rendering you senseless, each snap of his hips, pushing you deeper into mind-numbing bliss.

“This what you wanted?” he demands his voice loud and rough.

You whimper, desperate, breathless, your fingers clutching at the sheets. “Yes—Benny—y-es,” you cry, barely able to form words as he pounds into you over and over, his pace unrelenting pushing you past every limit.

His rough fingers find your clit and your eyes roll back as he goes harder, deeper, until all you can do is moan, your body shuddering as he finally groans, burying himself deep, his release pulsing from his cock as you come together.

For a moment, all that fills the room is ragged breathing.

Then Benny laughs breathlessly pulling out, your body aching from the loss, “Damn sweetheart,” he exhales laying onto his back. “Hope you didn’t have any plans after this.” He says pulling you to his chest.

You grin, looking up at his handsome face, your body weak and spent. “I think you just made ‘em for me, Benny,” you confess, and as he looks at you his blue eyes darken. He pulls you in for a long lingering kiss, pouring all his feelings into it, already hooked on you—Because you like a challenge and you always get what you want.

END 🏍️

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h-sleepingirl · 2 days ago

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Dolly in the Art Gallery: A Charmed 2025 Scene Log/Recap

“Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time.”

I first heard this Jean-Michel Basquiat quote in a rope class from Barkas, in the context of how we play within both space and time in a kink scene. I think about it frequently, especially as I feel more and more passionately about the brutally human impulse to create art.

I have been coming to hypnosis events since 2013, before Charmed existed -- my first event was packed with my own manic energy, held in a dungeon where people could hypnotize me basically at will. No hotel staff, no sneaking back to a private room. I developed a reputation as an aesthetically pleasing subject, often put on display in subtle and overt ways.

I have grown up in this community. Essentially my entire adult life has been spent involved in going to events and cons. I'm 33 now, and as Charmed celebrates its 10th year I've perhaps been unconsciously influenced to reflect on myself aging.

I feel so much older than that 21 year old exhibitionist. I'm more reserved, quieter, more selective, and certainly smarter. I like who I'm becoming, but I do miss parts of who I used to be -- that confidence, that energy.

On Friday evening I looked at the schedule and saw there was going to be a Gallery of Living Art -- it's been a staple at Charmed for a number of years, but I'd never done more than peek inside.

I thought to myself: “Why not try to get in touch with that playful younger self? Why not show everyone who I am nowadays? Why not live out a fantasy?”

Surely I’m not too old. Surely I haven’t grown out of this.

The time comes and I connect with my partner about it. He knows that one of my absolute favorite things is being totally frozen. We decide against anything complicated. No one will touch me or trigger me or anything like that. It’s the most “negotiating” we've maybe ever done, but I still leave all details to him. I tell him: “I was really just thinking this is an opportunity for me to sit blank and still for a long time.”

We walk into the room, and it’s overwhelming. People are setting up intricate exhibits with lots of creative interactions. There is a sheet we need to fill out to describe what our “art” is, which my partner writes on cryptically.

“Dolly can't talk. Duh…”

“Dolly is precious -- don't touch!”

Under “Artist”, where he is meant to put his name, he writes a question mark.

I am so in love with him, watching his mind work on the spot.

We find a place in the loud room and look at each other. We are a fluid force of nature in a bed together, spontaneous and wild. This planning doesn't feel like us. This hypnosis isn't a formality, per se, but it just feels sort of like “We both know how this is going to end on some level -- so how do we spend this time?”

He gingerly removes my name tag and starts murmuring to me.

Being a dolly is such a luxurious treat that the moment he suggests it, I crumble, gripping his shirt with my weak little fingers, moaning too softly to be heard by anyone but him.

He poses me. He fixes my gaze blank and forward. He lets me practice standing and sitting. This kind of rehearsal is unfamiliar for us, and I almost relish doing something that feels a little awkward.

I am a dolly when he leaves me, frozen and posed, but I know it is going to take a couple minutes to settle in. I am a dolly getting comfortable, a dolly with twinges of self-consciousness. After a couple minutes he walks me over to a different chair, one that is highlighted by empty space around it, and I sit, and I know this is truly where I am supposed to be on display.

Finally, total stillness rushes over me like pure relief.

I sit, and I stare, and I don’t do anything else. My mind is blank, and sometimes all there is inside my head is “I’m a dolly, I’m a dolly,” in my little dolly voice. It is pure, simple bliss.

People begin to come up to me to look at me. I am a good dolly and I am silent and I do not move even my eyes. They patiently read my sign and then observe me. I cannot change my body position to be any more or less appealing to them, I cannot hide nor flaunt myself.

Some people say things to me, little compliments and appreciations, and I can’t really process their words. The little dolly voice in my head screams in pleasure when I’m spoken to and given attention.

I have ADHD, I’m addicted to my phone, I’m a fidgeter. But there is nothing that carries the unique pleasure of being frozen and still. It reminds me of Quaker meetings, of spiritual silence and meditation that makes one feel time itself as though it has a sensory texture.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about the Jewish sabbath as proof that it is not intuitive for us to sanctify time. But nevertheless as Jews we must learn to do it to make shabbat holy every week. Shabbat is “a cathedral in time,” he says, and I’ve been thinking about how much that applies to my experience of hypnosis. Hypnosis is not a physical object. We may sometimes have props but we cannot touch trance and it leaves no marks. It is time that is the sacred dimension in hypnosis, the time that we set aside (“kadosh” in Hebrew) with another human being.

Heschel says we are slaves to space and material things. And in this moment I feel like I have gotten as close as I can to releasing that. I am not even moving my physical body within the physical world. I am just relishing each passing second of stillness, building my cathedral in time.

Of course, sometimes I think sacred space and objects are very important. After all, I am in a space that is incredibly rare, that only exists very briefly, that I had to travel at length to get to.

And I am an object -- art -- inside of it. I am literally decorating the space, as Basquiat would say.

Am I thinking all of this as I sit there motionless? No, not with any sophistication. I truly feel blank. But I am feeling flashes of this as abstract mental sensations that I will untangle later.

Something else strikes me very quickly that I observe within. When people walk up to look at me, something inside me tenses up. I realize that I am unconsciously preparing myself to talk to them. I have been coming to cons for so long, and especially since beginning to write books I always meet a ton of new people every year who come up to me to talk, which I adore. But right now I am in a space where I literally cannot have a conversation with anyone. I don’t even have my nametag on anymore -- my partner was so clever to remove it.

It is the opposite of vending books, where I sit in a chair and am helpless in the sense that I must engage in conversation with the people who come up to meet me. Now, I literally cannot talk to anyone, and they cannot talk to me, and most people may not even know who I am.

It is a hit of extreme objectification, more real than it has ever felt. I am not sleepingirl -- I am a dolly. “Who” I am doesn’t matter. I am art.

My partner also is not sitting there receiving compliments for me. He is nearby, in eyesight, just watching. But he’s anonymous too. And there is something about this mutual anonymity that makes me feel even prouder about us as a couple. There is no performance of who we are. I don’t know how to describe it, but obviously it feels more authentic than public play usually ever does. Like a little secret we are sharing a corner of.

And he looks ever the artist, sitting back and watching me. I feel very strongly that this little scene isn’t the art -- it’s me. Our relationship is what’s really on display. All the work he’s done over 7 years of brainwashing me, real work on my personality and identity, my wardrobe, every single way I express myself and who I am. The people coming by are seeing his bimbo, his dolly, his [x] -- without necessarily knowing who either of us are.

The rhythm is addicting. My mind babbles my self-given dolly mantra over and over, I luxuriate in the stillness, and I stare. I only can sort of half-see with darkened vision, though my eyes are wide. I love when people notice me sitting there -- their expressions change as they observe me. They step into my metaphorical space, which is eerily silent compared to the revelry of the creative demonstrations that fill the room. They are no longer “being entertained,” and no one can communicate to them what I am doing -- they must engage with me out of their own curiosity.

Sometimes they decide to talk to me. I can’t process most of it, but I remember a few interactions.

Someone says, “What an excellent dolly.”

Someone else notices that I’m wearing a bracelet that says “bimbo,” and says, “Even the details on this one are exquisite.”

Someone else says, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen sleepingirl play before.”

That last one hits me in the gut with memories of a time now long past: Play in public spaces was universal at cons; I couldn’t move from one place to another without someone dropping me into trance; absolutely everyone knew what I looked like when hypnotized.

Even now as I am on display, I have a mask on, and the people can’t see my gently parted lips.

It is a rush of emotion that is very complex for my simple little dolly head, but it goes away.

For a long while, I just exist as a thing in bliss while the room -- the whole world -- bubbles with activity around me.

Eventually even as I sit frozen and blank, a little timer starts ticking in my head -- I could sit here for much longer, but I don’t want to make him wait for me, and I have other things I want to do tonight.

Reading Heschel has been helping me release some of that odd panic that bubbles up when I awaken from trance -- the feeling that magic is slipping through my fingers, memories are slipping out of my mind, and I can take no memento from it. I sometimes write, draw, or make music to try to capture the things I feel in hypnosis with my partner. I think it is from that impulse to be able to touch and hold hypnosis, to make it a “thing” in space as opposed to something of time.

But I do think there is something else, just a human drive to create art about this transcendent experience that we engage in together. I need to create art to try to communicate the perfect way I don’t move and my eyes go glassy. I need to express my emotions, my desires, my dreams, my love. I am only human, a human blown away by this very human thing we do that we call hypnosis.

Only my partner sees it, and he does see so much into the soul of it for me. But this is exactly what I have wanted -- a chance to publicly communicate the beauty of what he and I do. To make this art by performing it, living it. To engage in a human act of creativity by having my humanity stripped away from me.

I am a bimbo, a dolly, I am art -- and that doesn’t go away when I get up to tell him I am done sitting here. I am his art. I am a manifestation of his creativity in this world, and he has a beautifully creative mind which I love so dearly.

This is serious for me, this is real for me, this is so highly personal and jealously guarded as my own precious identity.

Ten years ago I laid my head on his lap and he transformed my eyes into dolly eyes and told me that someday he would turn my whole body into a dolly body. And as we laid together in a bed after the Gallery on Friday he talked about how I had those dolly eyes again in that room. But to me, it’s not about being a dolly, or even being a bimbo. It’s about creating art together, art with a power imbalance. And fucking respecting that as sacred and exciting.

I don’t have much else to say except extreme heartfelt gratitude to Mazirian for running the Gallery, and everyone who came by to look at me and said nice things to me and joined me in my world for just a little while.

(If you’re curious, I was sitting there for about 30 minutes.)

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #dollification #bimbo doll #Brainwashing #my writing #my art #charmed #charmed 2025 #I haven't written a scene log in a very long time #And this one obviously reflects how I've been thinking about kink and intimacy different lately #I know it's not traditionally sexy #But it's very sexy to me

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simpingforbots · 1 day ago

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Big Scary Grandpa

You sighed heavily as you were brought along to this school trip, looking out of the window and watching trees pass by. You were the only one out of entire group of teens soon to be adults who were actually interested in Transformers life besides the war they had for over millennia, and were looking forward to learn something new besides what yoou can scavenge in books. As a kid you were always interested in ufo and if there was life out there, finding human history growing boring, dull and repuitative. And for that you did not had much of friends, it did not helped that you were also a new student in this school, another reason to be shunned by your classmates. Finally the bus stopped in front space bridge memorial and every one rushed out, to tiered of seating inside the yellow bus and wanting to roam around, not paying attention to their teacher an curator, who was already panicking about how many of them there were and that no one was paying attention. You only rolled your eyes and decided to stick around the lady, who was now struggling to gather every one else around and in the end just gave up, proclaiming that teens were free to roam inside the memorial ground and to not leave, with which it was greeted with cheers and the crowd dispelled quickly. You were left alone, next to the curator, who seemed to sort of relieved that they won’t have to deal with kids, quickly pulling the teacher aside to have a chit-chat. You sighed and looked around, trying to find something for you to do, which is probably the best will be paying respects.

With every one scattered you walked towards the murals, activating the hologram of cube with flowers. From what you read so far every flower represented a life lost, both transformers and human alike, in this great and horrible war. You walked up to it, looking at it in silence, paying your own little tribute to those who fell. Such a horrible thing and hardly any one of your classmates respected. You just stood in silence, pondering to your self, then looked around for a bench in secluded place to read the book you brought from library, plunging in to the history you were promised to hear about.

Megatron watched from a far at the bus pulling up and the kids pooling out from it, immideatly scattering around, not paying attention to any thing or even respect the place they were in, making him huff with anger. A chuckle escaped from the side and he turned his head slightly to look at Prime, who looked at those youngling with soft smile.

“Don’t blame them. The young generation ususaly do not want to sit down and listen to anything. It hard to get their attention unless it’s something flashy”

“Still, those young one do not have any respect at all.” Megatron grumble, shifting from one leg to another, crossing his arms on his chest. The whole reason for them being here was because the school organised some special event and they were invited to teach kids about their past or something like this, yet it seamed like it will be a waste of time completely, but hey, who’s gonna complain about not being surrounded by little annoying kids who clearly had no respect and were going through puberty or what ever humans called it. Letting another angry huff until he noticed one human, apart from the small groups formed by other teens, walking over to the cube and staying there, silent, not moving or doing anything, just being still. Then they moved from the glowing replica of the cube towards stone monuments with carve in names, walking slowly and then they looked around, spoting something and heading towards a lone bench, far away from all the ruckus, seating down and pulling a book out.

Megatron was a bit taken back by what kind of book this little human had – it was a book on his kind history, crudely translated in to human language, but still, it was nice to see some human finally doing something respectful in this place, besides Terrans and Dorothy’s kids. Prime walked off to try and talk to kids, to do what he was invited for to begin with, which quickly got every teen’s attention, except one, letting them bombard him with questions about him and his weapons, as per usual. He continued watching the small little human from a far, until he sort of felt like he wanted to speak to them. After all, it will be boring just to stand here doing nothing while there was someone who clearly interested in their history.

Trying his best not to scare them, yet seeing how engrossed they are in the book, Megatron slowly walked over, doing his best to not shake the ground to much, knowing well how human are sensitive to big bot’s steps, able to detect , but it really did not take much effort to get close by this one’ side and get comfortable on the ground. It’s was really stupid just how blind they are to their surroundings, but it is usually in such situation when one wears glasses. It can only provide this much of field vision, leaving peripheral quite bad and an open spot for something to sneak on upon them. So he just set there, quietly, time to time glansing up to look at other kids, who still did not see him, or wanted to see, instead engrossed in conversation with Prime and now Elita-one. You still stayed focused on the book and after some time you seemd to finally move, come back in to reality only to freeze up. Here we go.

You were so in to the book, that you did not feel anything, heard or saw. You did not feel ground shake lightly beneath the heavy peds, someone grunting as they set by your side and them just being next. You just continued reading your book, ingrossed in different world history and the hardships of civilisations, before the war. Only when you moved to get some water that you noticed something in the corner of your eyes, turning to see someone from your class only to jump inside your skin at seeing a huge foot of a big robot, who was seating by your side, just quietly. Slowly looking up, your eyes widen in shock that it was someone that was not so well liked by population, yet you were not scared, just shocked that he was there and next to you, without much noise that would alert you o him.

“What are you readin, young one?” he asked while rising one of his metal eyelids and coking his head to the side.

“Cybertron history” you replied, closing the book with finger inbetween the pages and showed the cover to the big bot, who seemd tiered. You always felt like he looked tiered and despite his history, felt like he really regretted the war he was involved in. You knew that he was problbay instigator, yet something told you there was more to the story then meets the eye.

“And how do you find it?” Megatron eyes focused on the title, happy to see that it was not about the war, but the times before. Primus, he wished he never started this war, but inequality was relay weighting on him down back then, and blinded by the rage, he did not expected it to last this long, with so much casualties, so many life’s lost to it.

“It’s good..." you glanced down, felling cold chill running down your spine. You were scared and rightfully so. He was big, scary and you were small, fragile and weak. But with how he acted so far, you felt so stupid for being scared. Swallowing your fear, you looked up at him, fixing your glasses “Was... How was it like?”

“What do you mean, little one?” shifting a bit, Megatron asked, confused for a second. Did this human was really engaging with him, and not asking about war.

“Before.. war. How was Cybertron?”

It took a few second for Megatron to even clock in what the little human just asked. They were asking about the Cybertron, life before the war, and from the eyes he got, he can see they were quiet interested in this. So why not to indulge the little ones curiosity for a bit. Shifting to be even more comfortable he started telling the little one about the life before the war he started, how it was and all the hard ships of the life, corruption and other stuff. Your eyes seemed to light up as he spoke abut the life, shifting to be able to face him without trouble, moving your body to fold your legs, completely focused on him. He was taken back by such undivided attention, but in a pleasant way, shifting as well, happily continuing his story telling, with a few gesticulations, forgetting the cold stares he is so used form other humans, finally able to see another human as a friend. Slowly the story telling of history slowly changed in to life stories, talking the kid about funny situation Megatron found him self and his fellow miners, earning a few chuckles from the small one.

The time sadly passed to quickly and when an adult suddenly interrupted him, Megatron glared to the side, only to realise he just scared the teacher you arrive with to death, their eyes wide and body stiffened, almost ready to bolt any second like some doe, caught of guard. Looking around, the sun was slowly going behind horizon, bathing the sky on orange and red hues, with chill slowly settling in to the air. All the students were in a bus by now, staring at two of them from “the safety of the vehicle”, some even pulled their phones out. Damn teens and their “smart phones” and they need to record every thing. Letting out a heavy huff of disappointment, Megatron got up, with a few grunts, acting as a signal for you top get up as well and collect your thing. You still shined brightly with happiness and curiosity, yet it slowly deemed as the teacher, blabbering about something Megatron did not paid attention at all, garbed you by your hand, dragged you away. Raising his servo, big bot slowly waved a goodbye, watching you being dragged away, able to hear other human teens howling abut you being in trouble, yet he felt that he was forgetting something.

“Wait” bot held his hand out, his voice still soft though poor human adult froze in spot, turning around slowly while you only coked your head to the side like some kind of puppy. “What is your name, young one?”

“Y/n” you smiled, softly “It was nice meeting you mister Megatron”

“it was nice meeting you too”

With nothing else, you were dragged away and the bus left, leaving the place get shrouded in last light of fading behind horizon, before the Spacebridge Memorial got draped in darkness, with weak light of light pole slowly flickering back to light, drowning the place in silence after hours of happy chatter. Letting a heavy sigh, Megatron crossed his arms on his chest, letting him self process just what he has done. He talked to a human for hours without a worry, like he would with Dorothy and her kids, giving him sort of peace of mind that there is another human who does not sees him as Megatron, the leader of Decepticon’s. A snicker brought him back from his thoughts, turning aorund and staring at Elita and Optimus, who were looking at him with a very familiar glint in their opticks and smirks. Oh, what now?

“What?” he snorted out, baring his denta a bit, not really in a mood for any of their teasing.

“Youi seamed to found a new friend?" Elita chuckled, walking over and punching Megs in his shoulder in friendly matter.

“I have not” rolling his eyes, Megatron grumbled, praying that there will be some kind of mission to call them suddenly so that they can forget this whole thing, well they could, he will cherish it.

“I heard that this school had some planes on returning” Prime “pondered” out loud, smirking and squinting at Megatron, with his antennas moving a bit, but it all he had to say to quickly get reformed decepticon’s attention. It will be nice to see you again. And hopefully soon. After all he had a lot more stories to share.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers earthspark #megatron #tfe megatron #tf earthspark #tfe #tfe optimus prime #tfe elita one

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atriza · 2 days ago

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Control the Rhythm

Yandere! Idol! Ni-ki x Idol! Reader

Summary: As an idol, you’ve worked tirelessly to perfect your craft, but nothing could have prepared you for Ni-ki’s obsession. Assigned as his dance partner for an upcoming showcase, you become the subject of his relentless training. Every movement, every breath—you must follow his lead. But Ni-ki’s intentions go far beyond the performance. The stage is his. The choreography is his. And you? You are his.

Word Count: ~1,600 words

Warnings:

• Yandere themes (obsessive, possessive behavior)

• Manipulation & control

• Emotional and psychological pressure

• Dubious consent (forced physical closeness, possessive kiss in public)

• Mild physical contact (firm grips, restrictive touch)

• Power imbalance (fame, status, forced partnership)

The practice room was empty, except for the two of you.

Sweat dripped down your temple, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to keep up with the demanding choreography.

You had been at it for hours, but Ni-ki wasn’t satisfied. He never was.

“Again,” he ordered, stepping closer, his dark eyes scanning your every movement.

Your legs ached, your body screaming for a break.But Ni-ki didn’t believe in breaks.

Not for you.

Not when you were his partner.

Not when you were his.

“You’re still a beat too slow,” Ni-ki muttered, circling you like a predator. “You need to feel the music, not just follow it.”

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in your chest.

“I’m trying.”

Ni-ki suddenly smirked.

“Try harder.”

And then,he moved.

Fluid. Effortless. Perfect.

The moment the music started, his body reacted as if it were an extension of the beat itself.

You were an idol, too, trained for years in singing and dancing, but standing next to Ni-ki…You felt like a rookie.

Your breath hitched as he suddenly closed the distance between you, reaching for your wrist.

“Watch me,” he whispered, his grip firm. “Feel it.”

And then, he pulled you into the dance.

His body guided yours, every movement synchronized, his hands never leaving your skin.

The mirrors reflected everything.

His possession.

Your helplessness.

The way his fingers pressed firmly against your waist, making sure you followed his lead.

And when the music finally stopped, you found yourself trapped in his arms.

His breath was warm against your ear.

“You feel it now?”

Your pulse spiked.You nodded.

Because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t let go.

———————————————————————

The performance was only days away.

And Ni-ki was relentless.

He pushed you harder than he pushed himself.

Every time you made a mistake, his eyes darkened.

Every time you hesitated, his fingers dug into your skin, reminding you that he was watching.

“Don’t embarrass me out there,” he warned one night, his voice dangerously soft.

Your breath caught.

“I—I won’t.”

Ni-ki tilted his head, studying you.

Then he smiled.

“Good girl.”

The words sent an unsettling shiver down your spine.

Because you weren’t sure if he was talking about the dance.

Or about you.

———————————————————————

The lights were blinding.The crowd roared.

The stage felt both endless and suffocating all at once.

But none of that mattered, because Ni-ki was watching and you couldn’t fail him.

The moment the music started, your body moved on instinct.

Every step, every turn, every breath—perfect.

Just like he had taught you.

Just like he had wanted.

Ni-ki’s presence behind you was overwhelming, his movements synchronized with yours.

And when he reached for your waist—pulling you closer in front of thousands of people—

Your heartbeat skipped.

You could feel the intensity in his grip, the silent message beneath it.

“You belong to me.”

The performance ended, the final pose locking the two of you together, your bodies pressed close.

The crowd exploded.

Cheers. Screams. Flashing lights.

But Ni-ki?

He didn’t care about them.

His eyes were locked on you.

And before you could react—

His hand cupped your jaw and he kissed you.

Right there.On stage.

For the entire world to see.

The crowd lost it.

Your breath hitched. Your body froze.

The kiss was deep, slow, possessive.

And when he finally pulled away, Ni-ki’s smirk was triumphant.

Like he had just claimed his prize.

The cameras had captured everything.

The fans had seen everything.

And as the lights dimmed and the two of you walked off stage, his hand never left your waist.

“You were perfect,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around you.

“You’re finally mine.”

Your stomach twisted.

Because you knew Ni-ki had planned this from the very beginning.

And now?

Now the whole world saw you as his.

And there was no escape.

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lifewithdavefarts · 15 hours ago

Text

DaveFarts - Episode 33 “Rear Cushion” [Episode List]

Dave has to hold back the loudness of his huge farts as he gets an important phone call from work while blasting Tim’s face.

POV: Tim

The cab dropped me a few blocks from my place: finally, a couple of more minutes and I could relax at home. This was a long day. Nothing ground-breaking or anything, as I simply had to meet a client downtown. It went well, no need to go into boring details, but I’m glad I know how to pilot drones and film stuff with them. Believe it or not, working as an editor for Greg’s porn films, of all things, gave me lots of experience. I’m not planning to become a film-maker, but I do like how this stuff works. Plus, and perhaps most importantly, it pays the bills, which is good.

Bills that I’m currently sharing with my bro and roommate Dave anyway. I wonder if he’s home: today he called in sick from work because he had to do some stuff with Dana -something related to them planning to move in together. From what he told me, it’s been a tough month, and often he ended up working overtime, so he really needed this one day to get some stuff done with his girlfriend.

It was evening, around 7:00 PM, the cold breeze scratching my face, with my eyes being spared thanks to my round glasses. I could spot our house: the lights were on. I do hope he is home, or else he’s gonna pay *those* bills by himself this time.

Indeed, I passed by Dave’s car parked on the driveway, still warm, meaning that my friend probably got home mere minutes before me. I quickly put a halt to my detective work and opened the door, stepping into our living room / kitchen, being greeted by the warmth of our apartment, other than a firm “Yo!” from my roommate.

Dave walked past me and towards the couch, holding a sandwich, greeting me by making noises with his mouth as he took a big bite of his snack.

“You didn’t even make me say ‘Honey, I’m home.”

I watched Dave lying down on the long couch, reaching for the laptop on the small table in front of it, as he put it on his chest, comically close to his face. Impressive how fast that sandwich got eaten up -he is a big eater after all, despite the tall, slim appearance.

“Because that’s my line.” he replied, his fingers tapping the buttons on the keyboard.

I hung my coat by the door and went into the kitchen to fetch a beer.

“I thought you called in sick.” I asked, as I opened the fridge, disappointed by the lack of alcohol.

“I did.” he said, the stern tone catching me off guard. “Such bullshit!”

He wasn’t mad at me obviously, probably some work-related issue, as it usually happens lately.

I solved my own very important issue with the fridge instead by settling for a soda, because my body may be a temple, but most temples are old and crumbling so I’m just very committed to the role.

As I walked towards the couch, Dave (eyes glued on the screen) automatically moved his legs just a bit to make room for me. Another sign that he came back a few minutes ago was that he was still wearing, well, casual clothes, precisely a yellow hoodie and a pair of bright blue jeans (and grey socks -he left his sneakers by the door). Since I’m a kinky asshole, I did notice that he was accidentally showing off his sort-of-sagging denim ass towards me, but I easily ignored that by focusing on the soda and the TV.

Even though he wasn’t angry at me, I didn’t want to annoy him by asking more questions about the job, especially considering the furious tapping I was hearing, so I simply, and silently, took a sip of my not-beer.

“It’s because of Fisher by the way.” Dave said, his face hidden behind the laptop.

“Again?!” I replied. “You did tell me he was making a mess like… 2 days ago.”

“And guess who’s trying to fix the mess he made at 7:30 PM.”

Another episode of my bro working overtime, ladies and gentleman.

Dave also rarely works from home, so I don’t usually get to see how he acts in those situations. The rare times it happened I noticed he switches to a serious man of few words. He still is chill and all, just rightfully focused on whatever task he’s working on.

Whatever happened made him really angry however, as I heard the keyboard almost beg for mercy under all that furious tapping. That’s Dave: when he gets really mad, he actually goes silent. One of those men, yes.

I just remained there, chilling and watching the TV, enjoying my soda, though a beer would have been better in case this wasn’t clear. Occasionally, my friend would occasionally mumble some insults towards the screen or, better yet, to this Fisher guy, a man he complained about to us in the last few days, something that he almost never does. Dave is very easy-going as you know, and very very patient (exhibit A: me), but push the right buttons and he will get mad at you.

“Sorry about all the tapping.” he suddenly said, after like 10 minutes of silence, still focused on the screen. “I can go upstairs if that’s bothering you.”

“It’s fine bro.” I replied. “I’ve already seen this movie anyway.”

“Yeah the news are wild these days.”

I found it funny how Dave tried to hold a casual conversation despite being so clearly distracted by whatever was happening at work (I don’t blame him). And speaking of which, I certainly didn’t want to distract him myself, so I didn’t reply.

“I mean it’s not like you’re not used to me making weird noises on this couch anyway.”

There he is, the teasing bastard.

I turned to him and I could see him narrowing his eyes and raising his eyebrows, the laptop screen hiding a cheesy smirk. So focused on his job, but will always take the chance to tease and make fun of me.

Which I will always be thankful for.

“…maybe I should go upstairs.” I said, in a deadpan tone.

Without halting all the typing and his focus on the screen, Dave’s casual, immediate answer made the couch shake: a huge fart, one of his usual, Dave-certified displays of flatulence, almost stock-sounding rips. A quick 4-seconds thunder, unusually (relatively) short for my friend’s standards, but loud and proud like it’s perfectly in-brand for him.

The blast was followed by Dave snoffing from behind the laptop, very aware that his kinky roomate both loves and hates all this teasing.

“Weren’t you going upstairs?” he asked, trying not to laugh, as if nothing happened.

I mouthed a “fuck you” which he obviously couldn’t see. I stared at his denim now instead, the sagging making the ass look even bigger and more imposing in that position and from this angle. My dirty mind liked the view and how casual the pose was, farting like I wasn’t even there. And speaking of casual, you know it, Dave is as usual ridiculously chill with my kink and I’ll never thank him enough for this whole thing going on between us.

“Here’s what I think of Fisher.”

Dave then said, before ripping another huge rip, doing the classic leg-lift move in the process. He didn’t even look at me, still hiding behind the laptop, just farting as if I wasn’t sitting dangerously close to the source, like I said. Another “short” rip, as long as the previous one, and just as loud, if not more.

My friend’s farts are usually as loud as they are long, but I was definitely enjoying this barrage of quick blasts. Then again, when it comes to Dave’s farts, the term “short” is like describing a nuclear explosion as “kind of noisy”.

Naturally, the scent of those quickies reached my nose and engulfed the entire room. My bro’s farts are always big but not as stinky as one may expect. Don’t get me wrong, your nostrils will burn, but they’re not as hard on the nose as they sound… most of the times.

One thing that was hard, however, was my cock, unsurprisingly reacting to my friend’s talent.

“Alright, done.” Dave said, stretching his right arm to clumsily put the laptop on the small table in front of the couch. “I hope Fisher gets hit by an asteroid tonight.”

I silently toasted to his understandable wish and took another sip of my soda. My bro was now lying on the couch, legs up, without anything hiding his smirk, the smirk that proved how him showing off his denim sagging ass in my direction was not a coincidence this time. I tried to ignore that, but it was getting very difficult, especially considering that, knowing his skills, the blasts were far from being over.

I kept myself distracted by doing literally anything else than staring, such as putting the empty soda can on the floor by the couch.

“So, you’re done working?” I managed to ask.

He cackled in response to that.

“Sort of. Got one last job to do.” he said, a cheesy grin drawn on his face.

“What do you m- oh… of course.”

I understood mid-sentence what he meant. The fact that he leaned towards me to reach for my head and pull it down and close to his denim ass being a big clue. I didn’t even try to resist, and I let his hand push my face in front of his butt, Dave’s legs spreading a bit more to once again make room for me -my entire head, in this case. The scent from his previous farts was strong and the ass was warm; the seams and textures of his jeans were always a pleasure to look at, the rough surface tickling the tip of my nose.

As usual, when Dave gets gassy, my face ends up planted straight into the source of his farts, even though I didn’t ask for it. I don’t know if he did that on purpose, but I was positioned in a way that while most of my view was obscured by his overwhelming ass, I could still see part of my friend’s face, staring down at me, with a smirk. I love when it happens: experiencing one of Dave’s farts so up close and personal while still managing to see that damn smirk (or his other facial expressions) only makes the whole experience even hotter for me.

And hotter it became, not just figuratively, as Dave’s ass soon greeted with another huge blast. Was it stronger than the previous two or did my face being glued to his denim-clad anus made it feel like it was? Either way, it was huge and loud, a standard “Dave rip”, and getting those in my face is something I’ll never get used to. It definitely was longer than the previous farts, about 7 seconds, which only made the smell worse in the process. My bro wasn’t even holding my head anymore, but I didn’t want to move, nor he was surprised that I didn’t.

After he was finished he adjusted his position, so he could see my face better and make fun of me being a kinky mess as usual, while I was completely dazed by his talent.

“Remember when you apologized for the tapping?” I joked.

I made my friend laugh, which I guess is the only way I can somehow return the incredible kinky favor.

“Good times.” he joked back.

My head was still facing his ass, but admittedly it was getting awkward. Dave probably noticed that I was moving away and promptly used his left leg to trap me.

“I’m not gonna apologize for this, bro.” he said, clearly brewing another big one. “…Ready?”

And ready I was, bracing myself for the impact, but the noise I heard was not what I was expecting.

“Fuck!” I heard Dave say, reacting to that same noise.

I saw his right arm reaching for his smartphone, next to the laptop he put there moments ago.

“Fisher?! Really?!” he commented, as he saw the name of the person calling.

I remained there, now things getting awkward for real.

Again I tried to move away, and again my bro made sure I couldn’t.

“Hold on, I gotta take this one.” he said, with the silliest smirk you can imagine. “In the meantime, you can take this one instead.”

A huge rip suddenly blasted my face, just as Dave answered with a surprisingly calm and professional “Hello?”. The fart lasted like 3 seconds but it was probably the baddest one so far, in terms of sound and stench.

“Nooo Fisher, not bothering me at all.”

I saw and heard Dave resisting the urge to tell this guy to fuck off, and he confirmed that he was lying but winking at me as he continued his ass-licking: after all, Fisher was actually one of his superiors. Not judging however, I’d do the same, and truth to be told, with my face being engulfed in Dave’s gas, you could say that I am doing the same right now, sort of.

As my friend seemed particularly into that phone call, I tried to move one more time, but Dave promptly used his left foot to step on my head and hold me there. Now my nostrils were being tortured not just by Dave’s gas, but also his smelly sock soiling my hair.

So, as long as I’m staying down there, with Dave’s foot firmly holding me still, I simply stared at that wall of denim in front of me; despite the anus being silent, the stench was still kind of unbearable. I know I just said that my bro’s rips do not stink as much as one may think, but when you fart this much and this often, of course one is gonna reach their breaking point, even a kinky guy like me.

“Mh… okay. I see. What did Johnson said?”

I laughed. Dave having this super serious work call while literally holding his farts in was actually hilarious. I managed to look at his face and he was like I wasn’t even there, a calm, assertive man just doing his job. He did look at me for a moment though, trying not to laugh, and winked at me again, fully aware of how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“Sure Fisher, by Tuesday we’ll be ready.”

As Dave said that, I noticed his facial expression changing. He was pushing one out… but since I wasn’t getting blown away, I guess he was pushing this one out in a way that he could somehow control how loud it was gonna be. After all, my bro is the fart master: he knows how to roar, but he also knows how to whisper, proving an incredible talent when it comes to literally controlling his farts’ loudness, length and pitch.

And those weren’t even on command!

As Dave’s foot kept me in place, the fart that came out was as big as the others, but in a different way. My friend was probably worried (more amused than worried, actually) that Fisher could actually hear his infamous loud farts through the phone, which is not very professional admittedly… and for some reason he also wanted to torture me with his gas. So, the fart master decided to somehow “dilute” his fart into a sort of quieter, rumbly, bubbly long rip.

I could tell this rip was enormous, in spite of all those nerfs. It sounded like a muffled rip with many interruptions, like fire-crackers going off, without getting too loud however. Dave kept the conversation going, speaking about documents, files, coding and all that, his facial expression revealing how carefully he was pushing this one out, while still focusing on the call, without missing a beat. The whole scene was hot and amusing for both of us (well, just the second one for my bro).

This masterful rip was going to be long, even longer than Dave’s usual farts, which are already impressive. I didn’t know if I could edge any longer, as my boner twitched every time this peculiar long fart got surprisingly louder than expected.

10 seconds passed, the stench burning my nostrils and eyes, the fart still “cracking” through Dave’s warm denim and reaching my defenceless nose. I know my bro is good at this, but takes some incredible skills to control your farts like this, natural farts I mean. And such skills only made me harder.

“Yes Fisher, I ToTaLlY AgReE…”

Dave raised his voice just a bit, anticipating his ass doing the same: a clumsy way to hide the sound of his giant fart from Fisher’s ears. As skilled as my friend is, trying to “dilute” such a huge rip this much and for this long was getting difficult even for a talented man like him. This “accident” only made him silently laugh however.

“Sure Fisher, whatever you say.”

Professionals have standards, you know the drill. And Dave being this professional from both ends was a sight to behold (and, well, sniff I guess). I forgot about my friend’s foot combing my hair and just lied there enjoying the noisy spectacle, the “fireworks” still going strong. Pre-cum erupted from my boner, I couldn’t take it anymore. This gassy bastard makes me cum without even touching me, it’s insane how hot he can get.

Worst (best?) of all, he’s completely aware of it.

After a whopping 56 seconds, the ass seemingly stopped emitting those fire-cracker noises. Despite the relative silence, my bro still made sure I didn’t move, which is something I didn’t even want to question at this point.

“Alright… no no it’s all good. See you tomorrow morning.”

A bit more paying lip service and finally… he hung up.

“Idiot.” he hissed, as he threw the phone on the small table.

I still remained there, my head under Dave’s foot and in the presence of his sagging ass, without questioning whether this was getting too weird or awkward.

“Are… are you finished?” I carefully asked.

“Yeah.” my friend said, with a smirk.

I guess blasting me does put him in a good mood.

We’re both weird, no doubts about it.

“And that means I’m done holding back. Get ready.” he then added, threatening me with a good time.

If all of that was Dave “holding back”, then yeah, my bro’s skills are just as insane as they sound.

Without even giving me time to come up with a witty comeback, Dave finally raised his foot… only to have his hand take its place, pulling my face up and firmly planting it in his sagging denim ass. It felt warm and kind of sweaty, the jeans soaked into that stench caused by the almost 1-minute-long “fire-cracker” fart.

How is it possible to be this gassy? A few seconds after my nose touched his ass, my friend started blasting my face again. Yet another loud fart, long and proud, probably what was left of the insane gas bubble from moments earlier, ‘cause that really sounded like his ass was tying up loose ends. As the fart kept going, Dave firmly, but gently, held my face into his ass, with the rip basically being shoved down my throat.

Finally, after 12 more seconds, this final thunder faded out, as Dave’s grip on my head loosened. My friend then (just as gently) pushed me away with his legs on my side of the couch; I was completely startled by all of that, one of the most insane fart sessions I ever had with my bro.

“Are you finished… now?” I asked again.

“ahah You’re lucky my shift is over.” he replied.

He then stood up and walked towards the kitchen, easily towering over me still sitting down on the couch. As if the gas-trail he was leaving behind wasn’t enough, he ripped another loud quickie as his ass passed near my face. I leaped back, not expecting, believe it or not, to fall for such an old trick.

“I thought you were done!”

In response, I heard my friend laugh from the kitchen.

“Yeah, told you I’ve been working overtime lately!”

I took a deep breath, the air around me still heavily polluted by the power of my roommate’s ass, and carefully massaged the damp tent I pitched between my legs. I was gonna take care of that in the bathroom upstairs in a minute; I only wanted a bit more time to process those particularly strong rips… and if I should start paying Dave since face-farting is, apparently, his real job.

End of Episode 33

#eproctophilia #fart kink #fart story #malefarts #davefarts

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yourlittlegoblin · 3 days ago

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{A Story in the Stars} Wanderer x Reader

Felt a bit nostalgic because I was thinking a lot about... well everything that recently happened in the past 5 years. Its kinda crazy that its 2025 and I should be sleeping now but um... just had to kinda write this because I'm in that semi-gloomy nostalgic feeling right now... So anyways as per usual I hope you enjoy and its gn!reader and fem!reader today/tonight

The sun hangs mercilessly overhead, casting ripples of heat over the sand as your boots sink with every step. The dry air burns your throat, but you push on, determined. This commission wasn’t supposed to be this grueling, just a simple escort mission through the Sumeru desert. Yet here you are—parched, weary, and regretting every choice that led to this moment.

Beside you, Wanderer walks with infuriating ease, his feet hovering just above the sand as if mocking your struggle. His arms are crossed, and his expression—per usual—is a mixture of disinterest and thinly veiled irritation.

"You’re slowing down," he remarks, his voice cool as a desert night.

"Thanks for the observation," you huff, wiping sweat from your brow. "Want to make yourself useful and carry the supplies?"

He scoffs, a sharp sound that barely disguises the smirk tugging at his lips. "And let you trip over yourself without me watching? I’d miss all the entertainment."

You glare at him, half tempted to throw the heavy pack in his direction. "I’m beginning to regret asking you to come."

"No, you’re not," he counters smoothly. "If I wasn’t here, some incompetent idiot from the guild would’ve taken this job. And you? You’d probably be halfway buried in sand by now."

You roll your eyes but can’t entirely argue. "So you admit you’re here because you don’t trust anyone else to keep me safe?"

He’s silent for a moment, the only sound between you the crunch of shifting sand. Then, with a sigh, he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"At least one of us has to be sensible," he mutters. "Two fools wandering a desert wouldn’t end well."

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it—warm and bright despite the heat. His words may be sharp, but there’s no mistaking the edge of care beneath them.

"Thank you," you say softly.

His eyes narrow as if trying to brush off your gratitude, but a flicker of something gentler softens his gaze. He looks forward again, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Don’t make me regret this," he grumbles, but the fondness lingers long after the words have faded into the desert air.

{A few long hours later}

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in hues of purple and indigo. Stars blinked to life as a cool breeze whispered through the desert’s edge, where sand met dry, twisted trees and sparse greenery. You push past a low branch, balancing the bundle of firewood in your arms, as the soft glow of your makeshift camp comes into view.

"Finally," you sigh, stepping into the clearing. "I was starting to think the trees had some personal vendetta against me."

Wanderer doesn’t look up from his work. He’s crouched by a crude structure of overlapping branches and cloth he’d managed to fashion into a respectable shelter. His hands move deftly as he secures the last knot with a precise pull.

"Maybe they do," he says flatly. "It would explain how long you were gone."

"Ha-ha," you deadpan, dumping the wood near the fire pit. "How’s the shelter coming along?"

"Finished." He stands, brushing the dust from his hands with a look of casual superiority. "Of course, since I’m the one who built it."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. The shelter is… impressive. Sturdy, well-positioned to block the wind, and, dare you say, cozy. You tilt your head, watching as he kneels by the fire pit to spark a flame. His movements are measured, precise—controlled in a way that speaks of experience.

"Where’d you learn all this?" you ask, settling beside him.

He pauses, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before he replies, "I’ve been around."

"You mean you’ve had to camp a lot," you guess, eyes never leaving him as he strikes the flint again. Sparks dance in the air, catching the kindling with a soft crackle. The glow of the fire reflects in his eyes, sharp and clear.

He doesn’t answer directly, but the silence feels telling. "Knowing how to survive isn’t exactly something to admire," he murmurs.

"But I do admire it," you say quietly. "It’s not just about surviving. It’s about being prepared, staying calm—knowing what to do when others wouldn’t."

He glances at you then, the firelight casting shadows along his sharp features. For a moment, something unspoken lingers between you—an understanding that needs no words.

Finally, he turns away, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Well, it’s a good thing I’m here to keep you from wandering off into a desert abyss."

"And it’s a good thing I’m here to remind you to eat and be a decent human being," you retort, grinning.

"Fair trade," he mutters, shaking his head as the flames grow steady and warm.

The fire crackled between you both, the silence stretching out as you poked at the mushrooms with your stick, trying to keep them from burning. The heat from the fire seeped through your clothes, a comfort after the biting chill of the desert night. You couldn’t help but glance over at Wanderer every now and then, noticing how the glow from the flames highlighted the sharp features of his face.

"Do you think we’ll find the way back tomorrow?" you asked, trying to break the tension that had settled between you both. His eyes flickered for a moment before he gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug.

"Eventually," he replied, his tone flat but with a hint of something unspoken.

You caught his gaze for a brief second, but he turned away quickly, refocusing on the fire. It was odd, this quiet between you. Despite the lack of words, there was a certain unspoken understanding in the air, something that neither of you were quite ready to address.

You sighed, poking at the mushrooms again, unsure whether to say anything more. The fire crackled, the only sound breaking the silence.

The scent of roasting mushrooms filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest floor and the crackling warmth of the fire. You sat cross-legged, the simple meal skewered on a stick held above the flames. Across from you, Wanderer remained silent, his gaze distant as the flickering light danced shadows over his face.

The quiet stretched, heavy and strange. You sneak a glance at him, as you had been doing for the past several minutes, eyes tracing the delicate lines of his profile. His expression was composed—impassive, even—but you could sense the restless tension coiled beneath his surface, a storm held tightly in check.

The mushrooms browned and sizzled. You shifted your grip, watching as Wanderer’s eyes flicked momentarily toward you, then away just as quickly. When you finally took a bite, the flavor was… unimpressive. Bland, slightly earthy, with no real seasoning or flair.

You chew thoughtfully before offering him a piece. "Want some?"

He eyes it, his lip curling slightly before he takes the food with a measured movement. A small, quiet bite follows.

"It’s bland," he remarks, voice flat. "But it’s a roasted mushroom. What else would it be?"

You fight back a grin at his predictably underwhelmed reaction. "Better than starving," you point out, turning your skewer over to finish the rest.

He hums, noncommittal, and the silence returns. But it feels different now—less uncomfortable, more familiar. You keep glancing at him, the warmth of the fire not quite matching the flicker of heat in your chest.

Finally, his eyes meet yours again, sharp and knowing. "You’ve been staring."

"Have I?" you ask, feigning innocence.

He tilts his head, gaze never wavering. "Why?"

"Maybe I just find you interesting," you say lightly, but your heart quickens.

"Interesting," he repeats, the word hanging in the air between you. A smirk, subtle but unmistakable, tugs at the corner of his lips. "You should be more careful. Staring too long at dangerous things tends to have consequences."

"And yet, here I am," you counter softly, the fire crackling between you both, "still staring."

His eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no sharpness in them now—only something softer, something almost amused, as he looks back at you.

The fire had long since dwindled to embers, casting only a faint, warm glow that barely pushed back the shadows of the forest. You lay cocooned in your sleeping bag, the fabric warm and soft against your skin, but your mind wouldn’t rest. Every rustling leaf, every distant call of the desert’s nocturnal creatures kept you awake. You sighed quietly, shifting for what felt like the hundredth time.

Beside you, Wanderer lay still, his hands folded behind his head, eyes half-lidded and focused on the endless sprawl of stars above. The silver moonlight kissed his features, sharp and serene, while his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. He looked peaceful—almost—but the subtle tension in his frame betrayed him.

“You’re awake too,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t turn to look at you. “Obviously.”

A small silence lingers before you speak again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.” His tone is as cool and detached as ever, but there’s a weight beneath it, something distant and unreachable.

You roll onto your side, the fabric of your sleeping bag crinkling softly. “You know,” you say, watching him, “the stars are said to carry stories. Every one of them is a memory or a legend.”

His eyes flick toward you, a faint scoff escaping his lips. “Sentimental nonsense. Stars are just burning gas, light that reaches us from countless miles away. Stories are things people make up to feel less alone.”

You pause, searching his expression. “And what’s wrong with that? Feeling less alone?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. The silence stretches between you like a thread pulled taut. Then, his voice softens—barely. “Nothing, I suppose. If it works.”

The ground is cool beneath you as you shift upright, the stars above twinkling like promises waiting to be kept. Without a word, you shuffle closer, dragging your sleeping bag until it’s right beside his. Wanderer glances at you, the arch of his brow a silent question, but he says nothing when you settle next to him, your warmth brushing his side.

"You’re taking up all the space," he grumbles.

"There’s plenty of space," you counter, resting your head on your folded arms. "Besides, I’m comfortable now."

He rolls his eyes but makes no move to push you away. Instead, he lets out a breath that’s half a sigh, half reluctant amusement.

For a moment, the silence returns, companionable this time. The stars twinkle on, indifferent to the two of you beneath them. Then, a thought strikes you, and you turn your gaze toward him with a soft smile.

"Hey… could you tell me a story?"

He narrows his eyes. "A story? You expect me to entertain you now?"

"Not just any story," you clarify, grinning. "Something from when you were younger. Something you wouldn’t tell anyone else."

The request makes him pause. His eyes grow sharp, thoughtful, and something wary flickers across his face. His lips press into a thin line. "You’re really testing your luck."

"Please? I’ll keep it a secret." You hold out your hand, your pinky extended. "Pinky promise."

For a long moment, he stares at your hand as if considering all the ways he could make you regret asking. His voice, low and deliberate, murmurs, "If I catch you telling anyone, I’ll make you wish you never learned how to talk."

"I won’t," you vow, eyes wide and earnest. "I promise."

He sighs again, muttering something about foolish trust and human sentimentality before finally, hesitantly, hooking his pinky with yours. His grip is light, careful, but it lingers longer than you expect.

With a faint, resigned hum, he lays back down, folding his hands beneath his head once more.

"There was a time," he begins, voice softer now, words woven with distant memories, "when I thought I could outrun the world." A small, almost bitter smile curves his lips. "I was wrong."

He lets the words hang between you, his voice trailing off as if caught in the gravity of a memory too vivid to forget.

"I was alone then," he continues after a moment, his tone edged with a mixture of wistfulness and resentment. "I didn’t need anyone, or at least, I convinced myself of that. I traveled far from where I was made, through forests, mountains, and deserts. Everywhere I went, I thought if I just kept moving, the past would stop chasing me. I’d be free."

You don’t interrupt, even as your curiosity prickles at the weight behind each word. His voice is steady, but his eyes remain fixed on the stars as though seeing something far beyond them.

"There was a village," he says, his brows knitting together. "A small, forgettable place filled with forgettable people. I had no reason to stop there, but I did. Just for a moment." He breathes out slowly, as though releasing a piece of himself he rarely shares. "There was a boy—barely more than a child—who thought I was some kind of spirit. He wasn’t afraid of me. Most people would have been."

The corner of his mouth lifts, but it isn’t quite a smile. "He followed me everywhere, asking questions. What I was doing. Where I was going. If I could show him how to fly." His eyes glimmer with a fleeting softness. "I told him I had no wings to teach him with, but he didn’t care. He said, ‘If you walk on air, then so can I.’"

"Did he follow you for long?" you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For too long," Wanderer mutters, his expression darkening. "He was persistent, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him to go away. He said I reminded him of someone—an old story about a guardian who watched over the desert winds." He shakes his head as if the memory leaves a bitter taste. "I was no guardian."

"But you didn’t leave right away, did you?"

A pause stretches between you before he answers, voice quiet. "No. He asked me to stay until he could learn to ‘walk on air.’ I didn’t think he’d manage it, but… he was clever. He built a kite with his own hands. It wasn’t perfect, but the wind carried it." He sighs. "It carried him, too, for a moment. And he laughed—like he had conquered the sky."

The silence that follows is heavy, laced with something unsaid.

"What happened to him?" you ask, dreading the answer but unable to stop yourself.

"He grew up." Wanderer’s voice is flat, devoid of the warmth that had briefly flickered. "He forgot about flying. People always do."

You watch him closely, sensing the ache buried deep beneath his words. Slowly, you reach out and rest your hand lightly against his, offering nothing more than your quiet presence.

"I won’t forget," you say softly.

His eyes shift toward you, unreadable but heavy with something raw and real. He doesn’t pull away. "You better not," he murmurs. "Otherwise, you’ll owe me more than a story."

I nod, offering him a small, tired smile. "I promise, I won’t forget." And then, almost without thinking, I lean over and loop my pinky around his again, a small gesture to seal my promise. This moment feels so right that a tale of my own feels right.

"Okay," I continue, shifting slightly, my words starting to tumble out in a soft, rambling stream. "When I was little, I used to—well, I was always the kind of kid who loved to explore. I’d run off into the woods behind my house, pretending to be some sort of adventurer. I’d climb trees and make forts out of old blankets and sticks, even though my parents told me not to. They were so worried about me getting hurt, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to find something—anything—that would make sense of everything around me, you know?"

I chuckle softly to myself, the words coming easier now. "One day, I found a secret spot, hidden by vines and rocks. It was this little clearing, like it was made just for me. I’d go there almost every day, and sometimes I’d bring snacks and sit there for hours just… watching the world go by. It was peaceful. And I used to pretend I was a princess or something—surrounded by magic and adventure."

The weight of sleep starts pulling at me as I continue speaking, my voice growing softer and slower. I feel the warmth of Wanderer's presence beside me, his quiet attention making me feel safe. My eyes flutter closed, my mind slowly slipping into the soft embrace of sleep, but I can still feel the connection between our pinkies.

"And, uh, there was this one time," I mumble, my voice barely audible now, "I… I pretended the wind was telling me a secret. I told it everything, hoping it would carry my words somewhere special. To someone who would understand."

The soft rustle of his breathing next to me is the last thing I hear before my body finally gives way to sleep, the weight of exhaustion pulling me into a deep slumber.

.....

Wanderer watches me for a long moment, his gaze softening at the sound of my steady breathing. He hesitates, just for a moment, before carefully pulling the edge of my sleeping bag up a little more to keep me warm. His fingers brush lightly against mine as he does so, and for a moment, he simply hovers there, as if unsure of what to do.

He sighs softly, barely above a whisper, "You’re... such an idiot." His words are a strange mix of fondness and frustration, but there's something deeper there, something he’s not ready to acknowledge.

Then, after another long, unsure moment, he reaches over and laces his fingers gently with mine, as if he’s afraid you’ll wake up if he does it too fast. He shifts to lie on his side, facing me, his movements slow and deliberate. The moonlight catches his expression, making his gaze seem distant yet tender all at once.

And there, in the quiet of the desert night, surrounded by the warmth of shared silence, Wanderer finally lets himself fall asleep, his hand still firmly holding yours.

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joocomics · 2 days ago

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1k followers celebration event — ⌞⌗ xdh drabble⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 bf!hyeongjun x fem!reader

genre: smut — 18+ wc: 0.8

request: “you just want me to do all the work” + “it’s kinda hot” + thigh riding

contains: established relationship, sub!reader, thigh riding, dirty talk, pet names, banter, light degradation kink, name calling (slut once + puppy once), (consensual) filming

[ event masterlist | xdinary heroes masterlist ]

“Baby, please!”

“Shhh, don’t get distracted.” Hyeongjun says with a calm tone drastically different than yours. He cannot look away from your bare cunt sticking to the rugged denim material of his jeans - the pair he wore to your first date. There’s a dark patch forming beneath you as you move around which makes his mouth salivate, but not enough to put an end to this pleasant show you’re giving him right now. “Speed it up, baby, we’re short on time.”

“We wouldn’t be if you just helped me out a little bit.” You mutter with a soft frown on your face.

To Hyeongjun, the blissful whimper that leaves your lips sounds like you’re doing just fine.

“You’re the one begging to cum.”

“You just want me to do all the work,” you bark back at him.

Hyeongjun shoots you a quick look of surprise - one that if you examine closely, you’ll notice how your attitude turns him on. Almost a year later, the way you react to his teasing remarks still gets to him.

However, you have your eyes closed shut due to the rising pleasure; at this point it feels impossible to stop, the denim fabric, rough and thick, suddenly feels like exactly what you’ve been needing.

Your head falls back as you grind against his thigh, turning that dark spot bigger and darker with the amount of arousal leaking out of you; just another indicator of how easily you get worked up when Hyeongjun is around.

“It’s kinda hot, don’t you think?”

His light-hearted voice, oozing with erotic playfulness, forces your eyes open. Assertive smile is laying on your boyfriend’s lips - he already knows your answer to this question and that you’re probably not going to respond to avoid admitting the obvious truth.

You watch him resting his arms on the back of the couch as if to demonstrate even more clearly that he’s not planning on moving a finger. But you see the signs very clearly and they're enough to let you know that, though he's enjoying this to the fullest, he’s still holding back from something.

The clues are subtle, but you catch them easily as you hold your gaze to study him - the way his throat bobs as he swallows, the slight parting of his lips, the tension in his jaw as if he’s restraining something, and his eyes flickering with something deeper than just amusement.

“All I think is that you can enjoy yourself too... by touching me.” You shift your tone into more innocent one, tugging on his shirt to invite him for a kiss, but unluckily, your manipulative tactics only make him snicker silently.

Hearing you cuss through a shaky whisper makes Hyeongjun drop his attention to his lap, focusing it on the precision of your intense rubs. Knowing how sensitive you are, the friction you're earning by grinding your clit like that must be much stronger now.

“Holy shit, baby,” he gasps softly; his craving eyes take a good glimpse of the mess you made of his jeans as you're in the middle of adjusting on his thigh. The lewd sight has him wetting his lips until they curve into a satisfied smirk; there's a string of arousal dangling from your pussy when you lift up to show him what you've done. “What has you so fucking wet?”

You lower back down, resuming the familiar motions that fill your body with the sweet delight you've been hungry for all day. You don't even need to apply pressure like in the beginning anymore; light steady rubs along his thigh are going to lead you to your desired relief sooner than you think.

“Just thinking about me touching your body makes you drip, is that it?” His eyes, glinting with lust, meet yours as you're about to moan from brushing your clit against the soaked material. “Didn't know you can get so fucking desperate.”

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, enjoying the power of his words and how they arouse you further, when suddenly a short familiar sound makes you open your eyes.

Hyeongjun is holding his phone in front of you, filming the area where your folds are glued to his jeans.

“I want to go back to this whenever I want,” he says, staring at his phone screen that's recording it all. “My needy slut humping my leg like a puppy.”

“Baby!” You groan frustrated at his mocking.

Then, you hear his phone buzz with a notification.

“They're on their way,” Hyeongjun gives you a half-smirk as he reads the message he just received. “Better stop whining and focus unless you want to get caught.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

#— writing: xdinary heroes #dinna’s 1k followers celebration #xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes hard hours #han hyeongjun smut #junhan smut #junhan x reader #hyeongjun x reader #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader

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mintyys-blog · 12 hours ago

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LOVE AT FIRST SHOT— winter soldier! bucky barnes

WARNINGS: torture

HYDRA found out.

He should have known it was only a matter of time.

His handlers weren’t stupid.

He had been careful—erasing his tracks, disabling his tracker when he was with you, slipping away unnoticed like a shadow.

But HYDRA saw everything.

The way he hesitated on missions. The way his reports were incomplete. The way his eyes weren’t empty anymore.

The Winter Soldier was compromised.

And HYDRA didn’t tolerate weaknesses.

They dragged him into the chair.

Straps around his wrists. His ankles. His throat.

“Where did you go?”

Nothing.

“Who was it?”

Silence.

“We know you were with someone, Soldier.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Give us a name.”

His metal fist flexed against the restraints.

He didn’t even flinch when the first shock hit.

It went on for hours.

Electrical pulses seared through his veins, white-hot and merciless.

They wanted him to break. They wanted him to say your name.

But he didn’t.

Even as his muscles seized. Even as his vision blurred. Even as his head lolled forward, the scent of burnt flesh thick in the air.

Because you were his.

And HYDRA didn’t get to have you.

They changed their approach. They sent him on a mission.

A new target. A simple job.

And at the end of it, they asked him a question.

“Did you hesitate?”

The words crawled under his skin like insects.

Because for the first time in decades—he didn’t know the answer. Not because he failed the mission. Not because he had let the target go.

But because when he pulled the trigger— He had been thinking about you.

Meanwhile, you were waiting. Days passed. Then a week. Then two. But still—no sign of him.

You should have been worried.

Any normal person would have taken it as a rejection. Would have assumed he had moved on.

But you weren’t normal. And Bucky Barnes—the Winter Soldier—was yours.

“He’ll come back.”

You traced your fingers over the bruises he left behind, a slow smirk curling your lips. “He always does.”

But this time—You were wrong.

This time, HYDRA had other plans.

HYDRA had plans for you.

They found your name. Your apartment. The security footage of you letting their most valuable asset slip between your sheets, marking him with sin, filling his head with thoughts of you instead of his orders.

You had corrupted their weapon. And for that, you had to be erased.

The night they came for you, you were waiting. Something had been off for days.

The Winter Soldier had never gone this long without coming back to you, without leaving behind even the smallest hint of his presence.

So when you spotted the black vans pulling up outside your apartment, you didn’t run.

You didn’t scream.

You smiled. “Took you long enough.”

They weren’t expecting you to fight back.

Most people screamed when HYDRA agents stormed their home in the middle of the night. Most people cried, begged, panicked.

But you?

You laughed.

And then you grabbed the knife from your kitchen counter and lunged.

The first agent dropped instantly, a fresh wound blooming in his throat.

The second wasn’t so lucky—your knee slammed into his gut, knocking the gun from his grip before you slashed his wrist, making him shriek.

For a moment, you thought you could actually win.

But there were too many.

The moment you turned, something sharp jabbed into your neck.

Your vision swam.

Your legs buckled.

The last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you whole— Was a metal fist wrapped around your wrist.

He was watching when you woke up.

Your head was pounding. Your wrists were bound. The cold, sterile scent of metal and chemicals burned your nose.

And then, as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting—

You saw him.

The Winter Soldier.

Standing across the room, silent.

Dressed in full tactical gear, his face unreadable, his metal arm gleaming under the harsh fluorescents.

But his eyes—his eyes gave him away.

“Soldat.”

The voice came from behind you. A handler. Someone in charge.

“Eliminate the target.”

Your heart stopped.

You turned back to him, your lips parting—because you knew.

You knew what this was. This was a test.

This was HYDRA pulling the leash, forcing him to prove his loyalty.

And they had set you in front of him like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Do it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Just stared at you.

And you smiled. “You won’t.” A flicker. A hesitation. No one else saw it.

But you did. Because you knew him. Because he was yours.

“Soldat, obey the order.” His hands clenched.

His chest rose and fell, his jaw tight, his body coiled like a predator in a trap.

And then— “You belong to me, don’t you, soldier?” you whispered, voice soft, teasing. His breath hitched.

A second. Then two.

Then—Chaos.

He killed them all.

The moment the first handler reached for a weapon, the Winter Soldier snapped. Gunfire rang through the air. Bodies hit the ground. Blood painted the walls.

By the time it was over, you were staring at the aftermath with something close to admiration. Then, slowly—you grinned.

“I knew it.”

His metal fist flexed. His breath was uneven.

For a moment, he just stood there, his body rigid, his mind clearly waging a war between conditioning and this.

You tilted your head. “What now, my soldier?”

A pause. Then—his voice, low and dark and final.

“We run.”

You ran.

Through underground tunnels. Empty alleys. Hidden backroads.

He knew exactly where to go, which cameras to avoid, how to disappear like a ghost.

And you followed.

Your hands were still sticky with blood. Your heart was still pounding from the high.

You had watched him kill for you.

And God—you had never been more in love.

The safe house was small. Remote.

An abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, far from HYDRA’s reach.

The moment he locked the door behind you, you let out a breathless laugh, chest heaving.

“That was fun.”

He turned to you, blue eyes sharp.

“Fun?”

You grinned. “You should’ve seen yourself, soldier. All that strength—” You stepped closer, voice dropping. “All that rage.”

His jaw clenched.

“They were going to kill you,” he muttered.

Your smile widened. “But they didn’t.”

Because he stopped them.

Because he chose you.

And now—he was free.

But freedom came with a cost.

HYDRA wouldn’t stop hunting him.

He had disobeyed, broken protocol, slaughtered their men.

And worst of all—he had kept you alive.

They would never forgive that.

Which meant there was no going back.

“They’ll come for us.” His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous underneath.

You shrugged. “Let them.”

His metal fingers twitched.

“You don’t understand.” His voice was tighter now, almost like he was warning you. “They’ll never stop.”

You tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Then neither will we.”

Something in his expression shifted.

And just like that—it clicked.

You weren’t afraid. You had never been afraid.

Not when he tried to kill you. Not when he broke into your apartment. Not when HYDRA dragged you from your home, put a gun to your head, and ordered him to pull the trigger.

You weren’t afraid of him.

You were obsessed with him.

And worse?

“You like this.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You smiled.

“Of course, I do. And my answer will remain the same.”

Because you were just like him.

Twisted. Dark. Broken in ways that no normal person could ever understand.

You had spent your whole life attracting danger. Chasing it. Craving it.

And now?

You had finally caught it.

You ran a finger over the bruises on your wrist—marks from where HYDRA had tied you down.

“You know what’s funny?” you murmured, stepping closer, pressing a hand to his chest.

He didn’t move.

“If you had just done what you were told—” You tilted your head, looking up at him. “If you had killed me that night—”

You traced your fingers up, brushing them along the edge of his jaw. “You wouldn’t be here right now. We wouldn’t be here.”

His breathing was heavy.

“You would still belong to them.”

Silence.

Then—A cold, rough hand curled around your wrist.

You gasped as he pinned you to the wall, metal fingers digging into your skin, his breath warm against your ear.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” he growled.

You shivered.

“No?” you whispered, turning your head slightly, letting your lips brush against his jaw.

He stiffened. You smirked. “Then why are you still here?” His grip tightened. Your pulse thrummed.

And then—his lips crashed against yours.

Rough. Desperate. Like he was trying to consume you.

Like he had finally accepted the truth. He wasn’t HYDRA’s anymore. He wasn’t even his own.

Because now—He belonged to you.

#avengers #x reader #reader insert #x female reader #the avengers #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier

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nephilimeq · 2 days ago

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If We Were A Movie

Prompt: Spiderman Kiss

@bucktommyfluffebruary

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/160670875#workskin

Tommy balanced the leftover casserole in one hand as he made his way to the front door, the tray of cookies on top, his keys in his left, and was proud when he managed to make it through the door without dropping anything. Evan had left early that morning in a rush for his shift, and now it was just after one in the afternoon, and he had come home from his own shift about twenty minutes before—only to find that his boyfriend had been in such a rush that he had left behind the casserole and the cookies, which meant that Tommy was now on his way to save the day.

He silently congratulated himself for not spiling anything as he got right back into his truck, saying to himself, “Oh, you owe me big time, babe,” and then made his way over to the station house, which he now had been back to more than a few times, everyone greeting him with open arms.

As he pulled up, he heard Hen call out through his open window, “Hey! Look who’s here!”

Grinning, Tommy shook his head and retrieved the food from the passenger’s side and shouted back to her, “Yep, and I’m saving the day! I brought dinner and dessert!”

A general cheer went up and he laughed and quickly made his way into the station and up the stairs, dropping the casserole in the fridge and the cookies on the counter, exchanging some quick hellos with a few others on the shift that he knew from before…

…and then was suddenly swept into strong armed hug by Howie.

“Hey, man! Thanks for the food! Cap was about ready to tear Buck a new one,” he said as he pulled back, and Tommy nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Evan was in a bit of rush this morning and forgot to bring the leftover casserole—which, by the way, is amazing,” he said, extolling his boyfriend’s cooking, always willing to let people know that he loved his cooking. Hell, it was because of him that he had put on a couple of pounds. Though his boyfriend didn’t mind and actually seemed to be enjoying it if their most recent bedroom activities were anything to go by.

“I made the cookies.”

“You made the cookies?” his friend said, walking over and peeling the foil back to steal one. He took a bite, chewed, and his eyes went wide. “These are actually good! I’m impressed,” he said with his mouth full. “Looks like Buck can improve even your cooking skills…”

Tommy shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Cookies are baking, not cooking.”

“Then why are they called cookies?” Howie said, spraying a few crumbs in his direction and he gave his friend a look and quipped, “Because they come from the Dutch word ‘koekje’ which means ‘little cake’,” glad that he had watched that baking documentary that Evan had suggested, and felt smug when Howie rolled his eyes and walked away from him, ending their conversation.

He headed back down to the main bay, wondering where his boyfriend was, assuming that he was in the bunk room or out on an errand for Captain Nash.

Just as he was walking past one of the firetrucks, absently tracing his hand along the side, thinking of all the good times he’d had—

—his heart nearly leaped out of his chest when he heard a voice above him say, “Tommy! You’re here!” and he cursed and said, “Jesus fucking christ, kid, you tryin’ to give me a heart attack?” and then looked up to see Evan sitting on top of the rig with a cleaning rag in his hand and a bit of grease on his cheek.

God, he was beautiful.

Grinning from ear to ear, he moved closer to the edge and asked, “Did you bring by the food I forgot this morning?” and the airman nodded and answered, “Yeah, and not just the food you forgot, but I brought my cookies, too, and Howie seems to be a big fan,” and he gave his boyfriend a cocky grin of his own, pleased when he saw him roll his eyes, looking equal parts fond and annoyed as he threw a leg over one of the ladders and made his way closer to the edge of the top of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. One batch of cookies and suddenly you think you’re a baker, is that it?” he teased, and Tommy smiled and shook his head and said, “No, nothing like that. Just proud that I was able to do it without you hovering over my shoulder…much like you’re doing now…”

His boyfriend smiled and then adjusted himself on the edge of the roof of the firetruck—

—and then Buck was dangling by his legs off the edge, head upside down, saying, “Kiss me like I’m Spiderman, babe…”

Tommy barked out a laugh.

“What? Evan…”

Evan reached out a hand and tried to grab at the airman’s shoulder, saying, “C’mon, ever since Eddie and Chris made me watch that movie years ago, I’ve always wanted to try this!”—and then they heard Captain Nash yell down at him, “Buck! What the hell are you doing? You’re going to hurt yourself…again! Get down from there!”

“In a minute, Cap! Tryin’ to get a kiss, here!” he yelled back at him and Tommy felt his cheeks flush red as he ducked his head, putting a hand up to shield his face, feeling every pair of eyes in the station suddenly focused on them. He did his best to not react, but he had a hunch that Hen had a shit-eating grin and Howie was munching on another cookie, while Eddie was most likely shaking his head at the sight and calling his friend an idiot under his breath.

Evan then turned his attention back to Tommy and he said, “Please? You’re makin’ my leg ache a bit, here. Kiss me and that stops…”

“Really? You’re pulling that card?”

His boyfriend nodded, still hanging upside down…and then he gave him a look and said, “God, you’re ridiculous…you’re damn lucky I love you,” and took a couple steps forward and gently grabbed his face from either side, bracing his palms over his grease covered jawline, framing his ears, and then angled his lips down, catching his lower lip between both of his, noting how different it felt to their other kisses, the new orientation making his head swim for a moment.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and Tommy found himself smiling into it…

…especially when he felt Evan’s hands on his own head, his fingernails lightly scratching through the hair at the back of his neck, making him shiver.

The airman pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Does this make me MJ or Deadpool?”

He was thrilled when Evan suddenly broke into laughter, one hand going to his stomach as he tried to contain himself, and Tommy watched with barely restrained glee as he slowly crunched back up into position, the movement smooth and strong, reminding him just how damn strong his boyfriend was, and then Evan shook his head and said, “Definitely Deadpool with your sense of humor, babe! God, why…why do you do this every time?”

“Do what?” he said dryly, knowing exactly what his boyfriend meant, enjoying riling him up.

Evan waved his hands at him.

“You know…this! We’re having a moment together, something sweet or romantic, and then you come in with a comment and suddenly I’m the one laughing like an idiot and you’re the one smiling at me like you weren’t the one who just ruined the moment?”

Tommy’s smiled widened even further and he said, “Because I like making you laugh…and because you’re always doing the weirdest shit, Evan, and so I have to make the best of it. Like, seriously? A Spiderman kiss? That was your first thought?” He gestured to the truck. “Because I think you need to raise your standards, babe,” he added, tucking his hands into his pockets and giving Evan a look, trying to go for serious—but he knew that his smile ruined the effect, though he didn’t care.

Evan shook his head, a single curl escaping and curling near his ear as he replied, “I did raise my standards—and I got you as my boyfriend…”

At that, he felt his flush a second time in as many minutes and knew his cheeks were red.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” Howie called out, and Tommy shot his eyes upwards and glared at his friend, who seemed completely unaffected.

Just as he was about to say something, however, Evan shouted up at him, “Yeah! And you did the same thing, Chimney! You raised your standards and got a Buckley for a wife! So what’s that say about you?” and Tomy snorted and did his best to contain his laughter as he heard Howie splutter as he tried to say something back, only to come up with, “Yeah, well, you’re a…standard,” and then he watched him walk away from the edge of the loft, only to be replaced by Hen.

“Okay, now that was painful to watch,” she said, leaning against the railing that Howie had just been leaning against. “Still, the kiss was cute. Was it everything you hoped for, Buckaroo?”

“Hell yeah,” he said vehemently as he wiped the grease off his hands with the rag from his pocket and Tommy was once more mesmerized by him.

Shaking his head, he reached up and gently batted at his knee and said, “I’ll see you when you get off shift, babe,” and Evan shot him a stunning grin (one that he would never get used to) and made his way back to his truck, listening to Hen and his boyfriend get into a conversation that had something to do with superheroes, and he shook his head and smiled.

Instead of heading straight back home, however, he went out and ran the errands that he had been putting off for the past few days, stocking up on groceries, as well as swinging by the hardware store to pick up a few things he had fallen short on, including drywall screws for the next project that he had on his mind, knowing it was better to have extras than to fall not have enough…and the entire time he was out, the airman found his thoughts constantly going back to their kiss.

They had kissed plenty of times before, but that one felt…different.

Tommy found himself smiling as he stood in the lightbulb aisle, staring at the specialty colored ones, wondering if Evan would like a stained glass one.

Shaking his head, he added it to the cart, checked out, and then headed home where he continued to work.

Food in the fridge, drywall screws in the garage—and then he did his workout, cleaned out the workout room (it had needed it for far too long), prepped his lunches for the week with the chicken parm that Evan had cooked up last night for him, and then finally put up the bookshelf that he had been meaning to put together ever since he had bought three weeks before for Evan to start keeping a bit of his library at his place. By the time it was over, the airman barely had enough to energy to drag his aching body to the shower and then change into sweatpants and a hoodie before going back downstairs to try and read for a while on the couch.

Popping his glasses on, Tommy blinked trying to keep his eyes open to read, the words on the page starting to wiggle in front of him…

…and then the next thing he knew he was blinking awake with Evan hovering over him, his glasses in his boyfriend’s hand.

He was upside down.

“Hey, babe,” Evan said softly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth—and Tommy reached up and held him there for a moment longer, memorizing the feel of his mouth in that position, the way his lips felt against his—so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time.

“Mmm,” he moaned into his mouth before gently letting him pull away. “I could get used to this…”

Evan’s brow furrowed.

“What? Upside down kisses?”

Tommy nodded.

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” he breathed out, still exhausted despite having apparently fallen asleep for several hours, long enough so that he hadn’t woken up until his boyfriend had come home after his twenty-four hour shift. “I get why you like it so much…”

Evan grinned and then leaned back down and gave him another kiss, letting it linger even longer than before…and then when he pulled back, he said with a wry tone, “Looks like we’ll have to do it more often, then,” and he smiled.

God, he loved his boyfriend.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #tevan fic #tevan fanfic #tevan fanfiction #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #fluff #spiderman kiss #buck x tommy #nephilimeq fanfic

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soluversworld · 2 days ago

Text

SHOT IN YOUR HEART- HYUGO SUGIMOTO X G.N (SIBLING!) BRUGMANSIA READER!

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don’t interact!

Words: 1000

Genre: Yandere

Reader : G.N (Role)- Solivan Brugmansia’s sibling

Summary: You helped Hyugo with a dangerous situation, but you couldn’t just walk away. You stayed close, watching him deal with the aftermath, unable to tear yourself away.

Hyugo didn’t want you involved, but you couldn’t just let him face this alone. You told him you wouldn’t let him die—that he was too important to let go. He didn’t argue, though you could see the frustration and concern in his eyes. He knows you’re delusional, but deep down, you think he doesn’t mind you being there. He may not admit it, but you’d do anything to protect him.

And even if you push him too far sometimes, even if he keeps his distance, you’ll be by his side. Always.

Trigger warnings: Violence, Obsession and unhealthy relationships, Death and murder, Emotional manipulation, Delusional behavior

You were with Sol, Hyugo watching the movie with them after bunking classes!

MC ruined your date but it was fine! They just wanted to see the movie! You were glad Sol was having a great time too, Your big brother.

Mc wanted to go the restroom, so you just told them to give you a call. If they need anything

When your phone buzzed, displaying an incoming call from MC. Confused, you tapped on Sol’s arm, showing him the screen. Without a word, you both excused yourselves, and you stepped aside to take the call.

“I’m giving you one last chance, buddy,”

A gruff voice growled on the other end, followed by the sound of shuffling. The tone sent a chill down your spine. Before you could respond, the voice dropped to a whisper, and your instincts kicked in. Something wasn’t right.

Quickly, you placed the call on speaker and exchanged a tense glance with Sol. But the line fell silent, unnervingly so. Then, out of nowhere, the same voice erupted, panicked and desperate:

“He’s here! I swear! Just look around—you’ll find him here! Please don’t kill me!”

Your heart skipped a beat. That voice—wasn’t that…?

“What the fuck? That’s…” Sol’s expression turned pale. “Y/n, that voice—it’s Hyugo’s messenger!”

Before you could think, Sol was already moving. “Call Hyugo! They might be in danger! I have to—”

“Stop!” You hissed, grabbing his arm.

“Y/n—”

“Sol, you’re bad at this. Leave it to me. Just get Hyugo, okay? I’ll handle it.” Your sharp tone left no room for argument.

But Sol wasn’t having it. “You don’t get it!” he snapped. “This isn’t about you playing a —”

You cut him off with a shove, frustration boiling over. “Go! You will scare them off fucker!”

His jaw tightened, but he relented, darting off to find Hyugo. You, on the other hand, had a different plan. Your brother’s obsession with MC was worrisome, but you had your own reasons to worry. You couldn’t let this escalate—or let MC get hurt.

Despite being a theater, They were some shops, you stormed into a nearby store, snatching a baseball bat on your way out. The weight of it felt solid in your grip as you moved quickly, weaving through the mall toward the public restrooms. The call played over and over in your head, the frantic cries and threats echoing like a warning siren.

You reached the restroom, your heart racing. That’s when you saw them: a man gripping MC by the hair, pulling hard enough to make them groan in pain.

The man, still gripping MC’s hair, leaned down to pick up their phone, fumbling with it as he accidentally opened the camera. The screen lit up, switching to the selfie mode, casting an eerie glow on his face. He stared at his own reflection, confused and slightly irritated as he muttered to himself, trying to turn it off.

The moment he was distracted, you appeared behind him, silent as a shadow. Without a word, you raised the baseball bat high.

In the reflection of the phone’s screen, your figure loomed behind him, and in that split second of realization, his eyes widened. But it was too late.

CRACK!

The bat connected with the side of his head in a swift, calculated swing. He staggered, letting out a pained grunt as he lost his grip on MC and stumbled forward. Before he could recover, you delivered a vicious kick to his side, sending him crashing to the tiled floor with a dull thud.

He lay motionless, unconscious.

MC gasped, clutching their scalp where their hair had been yanked. Their wide eyes darted from the man on the ground to you, still clutching the bat, your chest heaving from adrenaline.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice firm but with an edge of concern.

MC nodded shakily, taking a step back as they tried to catch their breath. “I—yeah. I think so. But… who is he? Why was he—”

“Doesn’t matter right now,” you cut them off, your eyes flicking toward the unconscious man. “We need to get you somewhere safe first.”

Before either of you could move, footsteps echoed down and Sol appeared, followed closely by Hyugo. Sol’s eyes darted between you, MC, and the unconscious man, his expression darkening.

“Mc…” Sol started, his voice low and tense.

MC’s eyes were fixed on the splattered blood across the walls, a disturbing contrast to the stark white tiles of the restroom. Their face was pale, body trembling, and it was clear they were trying to process the scene. Hyugo, ever perceptive, quickly stepped in between them and the gruesome sight, his hands gently guiding their gaze elsewhere.

“Don’t look at that,” he said softly, his voice a comforting contrast to the tension in the air.

MC, however, was already asking, “Can we go outside? I—just need some fresh air.”

You nodded, stepping back as Sol wrapped his arm around MC, guiding them gently toward the exit. You followed closely behind, but your mind wasn’t on the mall’s exit or the situation at hand. You were focused on the man you’d knocked out. There was no time to dwell on it, but the sight of blood… it had a way of staying with you.

You all walked out, Sol gave Hyugo a look—a silent exchange that didn’t go unnoticed. Hyugo sighed and waved him off with a dismissive motion, clearly used to this routine.

You looked at him, He told you to go.

Sol started talking to MC, leading them toward the parking lot. His voice was calm, but there was a noticeable edge to it. “I’ll take you home, okay?” he said to MC. “Get some rest.”

You stood a few paces away, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, watching them.

Sol turned his gaze to you, clearly annoyed. “Go home, Y/n. You’ve done enough.”

You scoffed, pushing off the wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He glanced away, rubbing his temple in frustration. His distress was palpable, and it almost amused you. “Why are you like this?” he muttered.

“Stop sniffing around like a dog on MC,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “It’s not that hard to act normal.”

Sol looked at you, his eyes narrowing, before he let out a long sigh. “You’re worse with Hyugo,” he said quietly, his frustration almost tangible.

You smirked. “The only difference is I can show the shit, Sol, Go on a date with your beloved!” you shot back, your words dripping with sarcasm.

He sighed, shaking his head. With one final look at you, he waved and turned back to MC.

You watched them for a moment, then stuck your tongue out at Sol, who wasn’t paying attention. His back was turned, but you knew he felt it.

MC, who hadn’t been paying attention to the exchange, walked up to you. They smiled faintly, still a bit shaken, but they reached out to take your hands. “Thank you,” they said softly.

You shrugged, giving a half-smile in return. “It’s fine.”

Sol was already walking ahead, his face dark and brooding, but you didn’t care. You waved at him as you turned to leave, feeling a sense of relief. The tension was still thick, but it felt easier to breathe now.

You crossed your arms, a skeptical look on your face. “So, what’s the situation, Hyugo? You shouldn’t be storming into this so lightly. I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“I agree,” Hyugo said, his voice dripping with annoyance. “What a pain in the ass.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, let me take care of him. Go watch the movie or something.”

Hyugo, noticing the shift in your expression, couldn’t help but smirk. But it faded quickly as he observed you, now flushed and clearly embarrassed. “Don’t be delusional,” he said, his usual playful tone replaced by something much colder and darker.

You shot him a glare. “What?”

“Go home,” he ordered, though he could see the defiance in your posture. He knew you better than anyone—knew that you’d probably just follow him, no matter how many times he told you to go away. You were a pain in the ass, always nagging him, but it was nothing new. Deep down, he didn’t mind it.

Hyugo wasn’t hard to figure out. He had that youthful, carefree energy, his eyes bright blue with a hint of mischief that made him easy to get along with. His round face and soft features made him look almost innocent, though his teal-colored hair, shaggy in the back with a long rat tail, hinted at his wild side.

Today, though, his usual fun-loving nature was a bit more subdued, his bubbly personality slipping away as the situation got more serious. He wore his usual black long-sleeve shirt underneath a white button-up, with a green sweater vest layered on top. His black slacks were crisp, though his shoes—like always—were unspecified. The lack of jewelry was a stark contrast to his chaotic energy.

Though Hyugo had earned the title of “Mister MIA” for his tendency to skip class, no one doubted his reliability when it came to handling things—whether it was personal or school-related. He’d become a staple at school for his ability to get things done, even if it meant being absent from his classes.

He sighed and ran a hand through his teal bangs, pushing the long side pieces out of his eyes. “I know you’re gonna stalk me anyway, but go home. I’ll handle this.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, even if he tried to act like he didn’t care. There was always something comforting about his presence, even in the midst of the chaos.

After helping Hyugo drag the unconscious man—the one who dared to hurt Sol’s beloved—he turned to you, his expression cold and unreadable. “Go home,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. But you knew him better than that. He didn’t just want you gone. He didn’t want you to see what was coming.

Still, you handed him the gun you had taken from the man. The weight of it was heavy, but not unfamiliar. You weren’t innocent—not by a long shot—but it didn’t mean you liked this side of things. And you knew Hyugo didn’t want you to see his side either.

The side of him that was a cold-blooded killer.

You told yourself you’d listen this time. You’d leave. But who were you kidding? Of course, you didn’t. You just couldn’t help it—you liked to watch, to know, to see. Sol’s influence ran too deep. His lessons had taught you to be sharp, to trust your instincts, and sometimes, that meant lurking in the shadows.

The blood of a Brugmansia is weird.

So, you followed Hyugo, keeping yourself hidden behind a wall. You watched as he stood over the man, his posture tense. The man had woken up and was saying too much—pleading, bargaining, running his mouth. Hyugo didn’t flinch. He simply raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

The sound echoed in the stillness, the sharp crack leaving a ringing in your ears. You didn’t flinch either.

You never really understood the full story between Hyugo and Sol, and you didn’t care to. It wasn’t your business. All you cared about was Hyugo—and you were happy, in your twisted way, to have someone like him to love. Even if it meant loving him from the shadows.

Even if it meant being a possessive freak.

After it was done, Hyugo lingered for a moment, staring down at the lifeless man. Finally, he spoke, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t think I’ll be around for the next few days. Sunny, you’ve done enough for me. This… is the end of our deal.”

The words hit you like a slap. You stepped back, surprised, though you quickly masked it. End of your deal? No. You wouldn’t let it end like this. You couldn’t let anything happen to him. But you didn’t move.

Lately, he’d been pushing you away, keeping you at a distance. And maybe that’s why you’d stooped to ugly actions like stalking him. Not because you wanted to invade his life, but because you wanted to keep him safe.

It wasn’t because you shared the same blood of a Brugmansia. That had nothing to do with it, right?

You were just… naggy. Clingy. Possessive. A little too much. Maybe even a little unhinged.

But you loved him…

Hyugo dragged the lifeless body toward the edge of the alley, his movements swift and calculated. You stayed hidden, your eyes trained on him, hyper-aware of every sound, every shift of movement around you. That’s when you saw it—the glint of a phone screen in the distance, someone recording from the shadows.

Your breath hitched. They were far enough away that Hyugo didn’t notice, but you did. And when they realized they’d been spotted, they bolted.

You sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation washing over you. “See? Stalking has its benefits,” you muttered to yourself, slipping out of your hiding spot. Hyugo may have his methods, but you had your own ways of keeping him safe.

You moved fast, cutting through the maze of alleys, anticipating their path. Sure enough, you caught up to them just as they turned a corner, grabbing them by the collar and shoving them back against the wall. The person—a young man, no older than a student—stared at you with wide, panicked eyes, their phone clutched tightly in their trembling hands.

“You’re not supposed to see that,” you said calmly, your voice devoid of emotion.

They stammered something unintelligible, their words choked by fear. You didn’t bother listening. Instead, you wrenched the phone from their grip, held it up for a brief moment, and then smashed it onto the ground. The device shattered with a sickening crunch under your boot, bits of glass and metal scattering across the pavement.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your tone eerily soft as you looked them in the eye. “But I can’t let you leave.”

Before they could scream, beg, or plead, you acted. Quick, precise, and merciless. Your blade found its mark, and the alley was silent once again, save for the faint drip of blood pooling beneath them.

You stared down at their lifeless body, your expression blank. The blood didn’t faze you, didn’t stir any emotion. If anything, you felt… nothing. Empty.

You knelt briefly, ensuring there were no loose ends—no evidence left behind—before standing up and brushing off your hands. For a moment, you glanced at the body, your gaze hollow.

Hyugo found you in the middle of the mess you’d left behind—blood staining your clothes, your hands, and the ground around you. You stood there with a serene smile, almost too proud of yourself. When your eyes met his, you could see the mixture of emotions flicker across his face: anger, exasperation, and something deeper—concern.

“Y/n…” he sighed, running a hand through his shaggy teal hair. His voice was low and tight, just on the edge of frustration. “I told you to go home. What the hell is this?” He gestured at the scene, the blood, the shattered phone. “You’ve made a complete mess.”

Your smile didn’t falter. “If I hadn’t been stalking you, you would’ve gotten your ass caught, Hyugo.” You crossed your arms, defiant. “I saved you! Shouldn’t you be saying thank you? Also! I’m sure Sol will just stalk them and not come home!”

He groaned, turning away from you, visibly trying to collect himself. His hands clenched into fists by his sides, but when he spoke again, there was a tremor in his voice. “You… You shouldn’t have done this.”

But even as he said it, his shoulders slumped, and his gaze softened. Worry pulled at his lips as he turned back to you, his usual sharp eyes clouded with concern. He looked serious again, and you knew exactly what he was going to say next.

You stepped closer to him, your voice dropping to a quiet, almost reverent tone. “I won’t let you die, Hyugo,” you said firmly. “You’re a Sherlock! You need to stay alive—to clean up some of this society’s filth.” Your lips curved into a soft smile, but your words carried a weight that made him hesitate.

Hyugo opened his mouth as if to argue, to tell you to leave, to go away—but the words wouldn’t come. He wanted to push you away, to tell you that you were too delusional, too much of a risk. But the thought of hurting you, even with words, made his chest tighten.

How long would he even be alive? The answer to that question felt uncertain at best. And until then… maybe it wasn’t so bad to let you stay by his side. Even if you were a little unhinged.

“Y/n,” he said firmly, his voice steady as he called your name.

You blinked, your lovesick gaze locking onto him. “What?”

He stepped closer, raising a hand to gently pat your head. The gesture was warm, almost affectionate. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “You did a good job.”

Your heart skipped, and your smile widened into something almost dreamlike. You reached out, taking his hand in yours, your grip firm but trembling slightly. “Did I make you proud, Hyugo?” you asked, your voice dripping with devotion as your eyes stared at him, love-drunk and lost in the moment.

He didn’t answer immediately, just looked at you for a long moment, his expression caught between guilt and acceptance. Finally, he sighed and gave your hand a small squeeze, a wordless acknowledgment.

Your smile only grew, your eyes shining with that lovesick gleam that Hyugo had come to know too well. “You’re proud of me, aren’t you, Hyugo?” you asked, tilting your head, your fingers lacing tighter around his hand. “I’m not just a bother, right? I’m useful to you. You need me, don’t you?”

He sighed quietly, his other hand raising to gently pat your cheek, his touch firm but nonchalant. He didn’t answer—he never did when you got like this. He’d learned long ago that indulging your delusions only made things worse. Silence was safer, even if it meant enduring your relentless questions.

“Say it, Hyugo,” you pressed, leaning into his hand like a cat seeking affection. “Say you’re glad I’m here. That I make your life better.” Your voice wavered, an odd mix of desperation and triumph, as if you were savoring the moment even as you chased more.

Hyugo’s expression didn’t change, his gaze steady and unreadable. He knew better than to react, knew this was just part of your… routine. God knows how long he’d been putting up with this, how long he’d let himself be dragged into your obsessive little world. But he didn’t pull away either. Not yet.

“You don’t have to say it,” you said with a soft laugh, shifting to hold his wrist, keeping his hand against your cheek. “I already know. You’re glad I’m here. You’d be lost without me.”

His jaw tightened, but he still said nothing. His silence wasn’t agreement—it was survival. He’d perfected this strategy over time, knowing that anything he said could—and would—be twisted in your mind into the answer you wanted to hear.

“You trust me, right?” you continued, your voice almost teasing now, as if you were testing him. “You’d let me protect you again, wouldn’t you? Because I love you, Hyugo. I’d do anything for you. And you love me too, don’t you?”

His hand stilled for a moment, resting against your cheek. He didn’t pull away, didn’t sigh this time, didn’t do anything to acknowledge your words. He just waited, calm and collected, his patience stretched thin but still holding.

Your smile softened, and you pressed your cheek harder against his hand. “You don’t have to say it,” you whispered, closing your eyes briefly. “I already know.”

Hyugo let out a slow breath, his mind a storm of thoughts he’d never share aloud. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, how long he could keep himself tethered to this strange, all-consuming connection you’d forced between you. But for now, he didn’t pull his hand away.

“Let’s go, We need to clean.” he finally said, his voice even, cutting through your reverie. It wasn’t an answer to your questions—he wouldn’t give you that—but it was enough to guide you away from this moment before it spiraled further.

You smiled again, stepping closer to him. “Okay, Hyugo,” you said softly, as if the conversation had ended exactly the way you wanted it to. “I’ll follow you anywhere. Even in hell!“

Hyugo does hate naggy people.

#tkatb x reader #tkatb vn #tkatb sol #tkatb #the kid at the back hyugo x reader #Hyugo x reader #hyugo sugimoto #tkatb hyugo #hyugo sugimoto x reader

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theyluvangel · 2 days ago

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HIII!! Can i request yeonjun being VERRY hard and needy that he starts crying but reader wont let him fuck her bec he was bratty all day.

((Btw English is not my first language))

Needy - Yeonjun x f!reader

a/n: Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy it! The beginning is quite a bit longer with some smut at the end, but hopefully, I followed your request :)

warnings: Yeonjun cries, alcohol consumption, long beginning, small smut at the end, sub! Yeonjun, kinda unknown relationship dynamic, likely spelling/grammatical errors

wc: 400ish

MDNI

The evening air was thick with tension as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep hues of orange and violet. Yeonjun leaned against the wall of the dimly lit apartment, his eyes fixated on you as you moved gracefully about the room, pouring yourself a glass of wine. For weeks, he had been consumed by his yearning for you. It was no secret that your chemistry crackled in the air, a silent agreement that lingered between you both, begging to be acknowledged. But with each spellbinding gaze, with every laugh that danced between you, you held him at bay, and toyed with his emotions like a skilled puppeteer, leaving him desperate and unsatisfied, a puppet with frayed strings.

"You shouldn’t drink alone, you know," he said, his voice low and enticing. He stepped forward, the urge to reach out to you almost overwhelming him.

You glanced back, eyes shimmering like stars as they met his. "Maybe it’s nice to be alone sometimes," you teased, a playful smile curling your lips.

The mere sound of your voice incited a wave of longing within him, tightening the grip of desire that coiled around his heart. "Come on, Y/n. You know I want to be with you. Just admit it."

Your laughter rang out, but it was laced with something else—mischief, frustration? "Wanting is not enough, Junnie. You need to learn patience. Plus, you've been a brat all day. Why would I give in to you now?"

Your words echoed in his mind, slicing through the fog of lust that blanketed him. He had been patient for weeks, but maybe not patient enough. Had he been a brat? He supposed so, even he could admit he had been whining for you to pay attention to him all day. Yet here he was, still on the outside, watching you through the glass wall you had constructed.

"Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "I can’t take this anymore. It’s driving me mad. Just please, give me a sign, use me, touch me where I need you most."

You positioned yourself at the edge of the sofa, a sly smile playing on your lips as you took a slow sip of your drink. The power you held was intoxicating, and it made his pulse thunder like a thousand drums.

"What if I enjoy watching you squirm a little longer?" you retorted, the sparkle in your eyes a taunt that ignited his frustration.

Desperation clawed at his insides. He stepped closer, the heat radiating from his body echoing the fire in his gaze. "Y/n, please. I’m begging you. I can't fight this any longer. You're all I think about. Just one moment, one kiss. That's all I want."

The air between you crackled like electricity. Your smile faltered for a mere second, flickering with uncertainty. Beneath your playful exterior was a yearning of your own that you had carefully concealed. But the mask returned, and you shrugged defiantly.

"I can’t just give it to you, Junnie. You need to earn it. Waiting is part of the game."

Pain twisted in his chest, and all at once, he felt the floodgates of his emotions unleash. "I am trying! Please, Y/n, I can’t help but want you so desperately!" Tears pricked at his eyes, his voice breaking as he spoke those words. "Please, just touch me. The sight of you turns me on so much, I need you."

Your expression shifted—sympathy mixed with something darker. It was as if his vulnerability stripped away your armor, revealing a flicker of desire that mirrored his own in the depths of your gaze.

"You’re crying, Junnie. Don’t make it harder for me," you whispered, your voice softening. But rather than retreating, he allowed himself to pour his soul into his plea.

"I need you. Please, Y/n. I’m aching for you. I can’t keep waiting like this. It’s unbearable. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t shut me out like this."

Your facade of control began to crumble as the weight of his words seeped into your heart. You took a step forward, the distance between you both dissolving as you captured his gaze with impeccable intensity. "Just this once, Yeonjun. But I am not letting you fuck me."

With a deep breath, you approached him, breaths mingling as the world around you both faded. At that moment, you both understood a shift had taken place.

And as your lips finally collided, the wait came to an end, leaving nothing but the beautiful chaos of longing and release in its wake.

Your hands slide from Yeonjuns face down to his waist while your lips remain against each other. Yeonjuns hands wander your body, frantically trying to memorize your every curve. His mouth moves against yours, muffling his needy whines.

Grabbing him by the wrist, you pull Yeonjun down into your large armchair. You smirked as you looked down at Yeonjun, who was squirming uncomfortably in the chair you had him sitting in. His pleading eyes met yours as you slowly circled him, drinking in the sight of his quivering form. "Please, Y/n," He whimpered. "I can't take it anymore. I need you to touch so badly."

You chuckled, your fingers trailing along his shoulders. "Oh, you poor thing. You're just desperate for my touch, aren't you?"

He nodded frantically, his hips shifting restlessly. You moved to stand in front of him, your hand hovering teasingly close to the obvious bulge in his pants. "Well, I suppose I could give you some relief," you purred. "But only because I enjoy seeing you squirm."

With deft movements, you unzipped his fly and freed his straining erection. Yeonjun gasped as your cool fingers wrapped around his heated flesh. "There we go," You cooed, beginning to stroke him with slow, torturous movements.

The sight of Yeonjun squirming in the chair was a dream come true. Strands of his dark hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat dripping from his brow, blending in with the tears he had shed earlier.

"Please.. please, I need to cum," his voice breaks you out of your trance. Breathy moans escape his puffy lips as he continues to beg you. "Please, please I need more,"

His pleas are all you need to hear before picking up your pace. Speeding up your motions, you swipe your thumb over his flushed tip, causing his hips to jerk in sensitivity. His whimpers fill the room as he gets closer and closer to his release.

All it takes is you bringing your hand down to rub his balls before he's begging you again. "Please Y/n, please can I cum?" He begs, his thighs quivering as he struggles to hold his orgasm back.

"I don't know Junnie, maybe you should wait a little longer." You whisper, tightening your fist around him. From where you were positioned, kneeling below Yeonjun on the floor, the sight of him above you was almost ethereal. More tears had begun rolling down his flushed cheeks, his lips quivering as he tries to hold back a sob.

"Please, please Y/n, it hurts, I need to cum, please." He begs while bucking his hips up to try and meet your fist. "Please, I'm sorry I was bratty today, but I can't wait any longer."

As much as you wish you could keep denying him, his pleading was wearing your facade down. "Since you've asked so nicely, I suppose you can cum now," you tell him.

All it takes is a few more strokes from you before his hips are lifting off the chair to meet your hand and his thighs are shaking as his orgasm washes over him. Cum spurts onto his stomach and drips down onto your fist as you continue to stroke him through his orgasm, stopping once he begins to writhe in sensitivity.

Pulling your hand away from him, you grab a tissue on the table next to you to clean his cum off of him and your hand. As his breathing begins to slow, and his body relaxes, you can't help yourself from wanting to see him like this again.

#kpop smut #yeonjun #txt #txt smut #sub idol #sub txt #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #txt hard hours

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