#sit in the corner and think about what you did

[eclipixels]

Afterglow

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

Content: Blue Lock boys after pound town (tiktok trend)

A/N: A request from my one of my fav moots @captainshindo <3

Warnings: Mentions of sex

     Yoichi Isagi

     You’re sitting across from Isagi in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the hum of low conversations and clinking cutlery filling the space around you. The air is thick with the scent of grilled meat and spices, but all you can focus on is him—slouched in his seat, eyelids heavy, hair still slightly damp from the sweat of what you’d done barely an hour ago.

     He looks exhausted.

     The kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones after giving everything—after pushing, pulling, and losing yourself completely in someone else. His navy-blue hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faintest trace of teeth marks near his collarbone, evidence of the way your lips had claimed him. He probably hasn’t noticed, too busy fighting the drowsiness that keeps dragging his head downward, only for him to snap back up again when his chin nearly meets his chest.

     “You look like you’re about to pass out,” you murmur, stirring your drink with a straw, amusement curling at your lips.

     He blinks at you, dazed, as if only now remembering where he is.

     “I’m fine,” he says, though the hoarseness in his voice betrays him. He shifts in his seat, one hand lazily rubbing at his face before reaching for the glass of water in front of him. His fingers fumble slightly, like even the effort of picking it up is too much.

     You bite back a grin. “You sure? You look like you had the life drained out of you.”

     At that, a slow, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I kinda did,” he admits, voice dipping into something softer, something just for you. He leans back, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges against yours. “Not that I’m complaining.”

     Your face heats up at his words, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Eat something before you actually collapse.”

     He groans but picks up his fork, obedient for once. You watch as he takes a bite, chewing slowly, his gaze flickering to you in between. There’s a quiet intimacy in this shared space, the remnants of passion still lingering between you, woven into the way his shoulders relax and the way his foot stays pressed lightly against yours.

     Yeah, he’s tired. But he’s here, with you. And there’s something about that that makes your chest feel warm, like the afterglow hasn’t quite faded yet.

     The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of food in front of you both. Isagi lazily thanks him before turning his attention back to you. You notice the way his fingers grip the fork with a little more steadiness now, the small bites he takes as he refuels his drained body. The sight makes you bite back a smirk, he really had no energy left to spare after earlier.

     “You’re staring,” he says between bites, eyes flicking up to yours.

     “So?” you challenge, resting your chin on your hand.

     He swallows, setting his fork down just long enough to rub a hand over his face again. “So, it’s distracting.”

     You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Distracting from what? Chewing?”

     “Yes,” he mutters, the confession dragging a laugh out of you.

     “Just admit I wore you out,” you tease, nudging his foot beneath the table.

     He exhales a breath that’s almost a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know you did, love.”

     The admission hangs in the air between you, making your stomach flip. He doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t try to cover it up with some cocky remark. He’s just… honest. Open. Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you quickly focus on your food to keep from letting it show too much.

     “God, what was I even thinking of letting you ride? You nearly killed me,” he sighed dramatically.

     “Oh, but you enjoyed it,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

     He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hm, well… I might just let you do it again.”

     “Oh?” you smirked, leaning in a little closer, intrigued by his sudden change of heart.

     “Yeah,” he nodded, “but only after my soul finds its way back into my body,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

     You catch him stifling a yawn behind his hand, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a quiet chuckle. Then he lets out another yawn, barely covering it with his hand. “I think I’m gonna just pass out here. Wake me up when it’s sunset, yeah?”

     You snort, flicking a stray napkin at him. “Not happening. I’m not carrying your heavy ass home.”

     “You could try,” he mumbles sleepily, already slouching further into his seat.

     You shake your head, watching as his head starts to dip again. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m filming it.”

     Meguru Bachira

     The restaurant is dimly lit, buzzing with soft chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sit across from Bachira, who is currently melting into the booth like a man who’s just ran a marathon. His cheek is squished against the cushioned backrest, golden eyes barely open as he stares at the menu, though judging by the way his pupils aren’t even tracking the words, you highly doubt he’s actually reading it.

     He lets out a long, dramatic sigh and slouches even further, which you thought was physically impossible until now. “M’too tired to read. You pick.” His voice is thick with exhaustion, slow and slurred like he’s seconds from passing out on the table.

     You scoff, flipping through the laminated pages. “You’re the one who insisted on coming here.”

     “Didn’t think you’d drain my stamina that much before we got here.” he mumbles, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges yours.

     You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up your neck. “Quit being dramatic, you’re acting like you just did a whole workout.”

     “I did,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to look at you before flopping back down. “A very, very intense one.”

     “You sound proud.”

     He grins, not even denying it. “Well, yeah.” Then, he waves his hand. “Give me your hand.”

     You arch an eyebrow, but give in, letting him lazily play with your fingers. His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, his touch featherlight, but there’s a sort of intimacy to it that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

     “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

     He pouts. “You love it.”

     You do. But you’re not about to give him that satisfaction out loud, so you just shake your head instead.

     The waiter comes by, eyeing Bachira with slight concern, probably wondering if they need to call emergency services for the half-conscious man draped over the table like he’s just fought for his life. Bachira somehow musters enough energy to order something simple, though you’re pretty sure he just pointed at a random item on the menu. The moment the waiter leaves, he groans and drops his forehead against the back of your hand, exhaling loudly.

     “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

     “Mmm,” he hums, muffled against your skin. “No promises.”

     You sigh, but your other hand moves on its own, fingers combing through his damp hair, still messy from earlier. He exhales again, this time with a content little sound that makes you freeze because oh no, that was cute.

     “You’re so spoiled,” you mutter.

     He cracks an eye open, smirking. “By you? Yeah.”

     You smack his forehead lightly, and he laughs, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

     It doesn’t take long before the food arrives, and you thank the waiter while Bachira blinks at his plate like he’s not sure what it is or how it got there. He picks up his fork, twirls it between his fingers, then—

     —immediately drops it with a clatter, staring at his own hand in betrayal.

     “Honey,” he says gravely. “I can’t hold things.”

     You stare at him. “What.”

     “My arms are dead. My fingers? Jelly.” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “Look at this. I have no grip strength left.”

     “Oh my god.” You stare in disbelief.

     “This is your fault.” He insists, and your mind wanders back to how he worked you with his hands for what felt like hours before you got here. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands at the thought. You broke your man. All for an orgasm. They were great orgasms but still.

     “Do you want me to feed you?” You offer, feeling slightly guilty.

     He gasps. “Would you?”

     You were joking, but now that you see the way his eyes are lighting up, you realize you’ve made a mistake.

     Before you can retract your words, he’s already leaning forward, mouth slightly open, waiting.

     “…I regret everything.”

     “C’mon,” he sing-songs, grinning like an idiot. “Say ‘ahhh’ for me first so I don’t feel weird about it.”

     You grab a fry off your plate and shove it into his mouth to shut him up. He hums happily, chewing like a satisfied child.

     “This is amazing,” he sighs, slumping even further against the booth. “I should let you ruin my stamina more often.”

     You nearly choke on your own food at what he said. You grab a napkin and dramatically press it against your forehead like a distressed Victorian widow. “I can’t do this.”

     “Yes, you can.” He nudges your knee with his foot again. “You love taking care of me.”

     “Debatable.”

     “You’re still feeding me.”

     Ugh, he’s right.

     He grins triumphantly, but it’s quickly interrupted by another yawn. His eyes are drooping again, and you can already tell he’s not going to last much longer.

     “Meguru, if you fall asleep in your food, I will take pictures.”

     He waves a lazy hand. “That’s fine, just make sure you get my good angles.”

     You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head, picking up another fry to pop into his mouth before he actually does pass out. Yeah. He’s definitely not making it through this meal awake. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek as he snores.

     And honestly? You don’t mind.

     Hyoma Chigiri

     You’re sitting across from Chigiri in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the air rich with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the table, reflecting off his crimson hair, which is slightly disheveled—strands sticking to his damp skin, the aftermath of everything you’d put him through just an hour ago.

     He looks done.

     Not just tired—wrecked. Like he’s been through a battle and barely made it out alive. His normally graceful posture is completely gone; he’s slumped in his chair, arms sprawled across the table like he physically can’t hold himself up anymore. His long legs stretch out beneath the table, one foot lazily nudging yours as if he can’t even muster the energy for a proper kick.

     “You good over there?” you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

     He exhales, blinking at you like you’ve just pulled him out of a deep trance. “I think you ruined me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

     You smirk. “You’re acting like I made you run sprints for three hours straight.”

     Chigiri groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That would’ve been easier.”

     You chuckle, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. "Oh? Are you saying I’m worse than your training regimen?"

     Chigiri gives you a deadpan look, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m saying I might need a recovery period before I can walk properly again."

     You hum in mock consideration, reaching for a fry from the basket between you. "There’s a reason why you stretch before doing stuff. Maybe you should’ve done that"

     His ears flush pink, and he exhales sharply, shaking his head. A smirk falls on his lips as he sends you a look. A look that got you two here in the first place.

     “Is that why you’re doing alright? Because I stretched you out so good?”

     Now it’s your turn to be flustered. “H-Hyoma!”

     Well, you can’t deny it. You stammer as he lazily steals one of your fries, though it takes considerable effort, his hand moving slower than usual. You watch as he chews, blinking like he’s on the verge of passing out right then and there.

     The restaurant hums around you, the low murmur of conversations blending with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. Outside, the neon lights of the city flicker against the glass windows, casting a soft glow over Chigiri’s already exhausted face.

     He stares at his drink for a long moment before frowning. He groans again, tilting his head back against the seat. "I’m not sure I have it in me to get up."

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before bending me over.” You shrugged, a sly grin on your face as you sipped on your drip.

     "I hate you."

     "That’s not what you were saying earlier.” You tease, “Should I jog your memory again?”

     "Again?" he nearly shouted. "I don't think I can handle that for a while. Give me three to five business days."

     “Yeah right, I give it less than twenty-four hours before you’re begging me to let you do me.”

     His lips part like he wants to argue, but all he does is sigh, shoulders sinking further into his seat. He doesn't need to say it—you both know the truth. Instead, he rubs his thumb over your hand, lazy and affectionate, before stealing another fry.

     Rin Itoshi

     You sit across from Rin at the dimly lit restaurant. Your legs feel weak, a pleasant ache lingering in your thighs, but it's nothing compared to the exhaustion practically radiating off Rin.

     His teal eyes are half-lidded, and his usually sharp expression is softened by fatigue. He leans against his hand, fingers buried in his dark hair, as he stares at the menu like it’s some unsolvable puzzle. Every now and then, his gaze flickers toward you, as if blaming you for his current state.

     “What?” You blink at him stupidly.

     Rin exhales through his nose, not dignifying you with a response. Instead, he lets his head rest against the back of the booth, eyes closing for a moment. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, controlled, but you can tell that he’s drained. You did that. Hehe. Wait, oh my god, you did that to him. The thought makes warmth creep up your spine.

     “Maybe you should’ve paced yourself,” you tease, flipping through your own menu. “Not my fault you can’t handle a few rounds.”

     His eyes snap open, irritation flickering across his face, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just a grudging kind of admiration, hidden beneath layers of stubbornness. “Shut up,” he mutters, voice rough, as if he’s still recovering.

     You bite back a laugh. It’s rare to see him like this—unguarded, spent, completely at your mercy in a way that isn’t physical but still intoxicating.

     The waiter arrives, and Rin straightens, but there’s a sluggishness to his movements. You order for yourself, then glance at him expectantly. He sighs before muttering something about just getting whatever you’re having.

     “Too tired to decide?” you hum, resting your chin on your palm.

     Rin glares, but it lacks its usual bite. “Too tired to deal with you,” he corrects, rubbing a hand down his face.

     You grin, satisfied, and reach for your glass of water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     And from the way Rin looks at you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, you know that’s exactly what it was.

     You glance over at him, your fingers tapping against your own glass. “So,” you start, breaking the quiet, “how was that game of yours today? You actually manage to score this time?”

     His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile on his lips is knowing. “Of course. Not that you’d understand the level of skill it requires.”

     You arch a brow, leaning forward a little. “Excuse me? I could totally play circles around you.”

     “Sure, you’d be great at running interference. ‘Oh no, I can’t block, I’m too cute, please don’t hurt me!’” he mocks you.

     Your eyes narrow, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you.”

     Rin winces dramatically, then leans back with a smirk. “I don’t think you could handle me one-on-one. You’ve already proven you’re not great with stamina.”

     “Oh? You’re one to talk. Don’t make me remind you how well I can handle my stamina against yours.”

     Rin coughs, his face flushing slightly, but he recovers quickly. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

     “I’m insufferable? Is that why you were trench deep in me a few hours ago?” You smirk, taking another sip of your water.

     He scowls, but there’s a certain softness behind it. “That’s enough conversation, shut up. I’m exhausted.”

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before deciding to go for as long as you did.”

     Rin’s expression darkens with what could almost be called a glare, but it’s too tired to be truly threatening. “Don’t even start. Do you think you have more endurance than I do?”

     “Mhm, I would prove it to you again but,” You lean in a little closer, smirking. “I don’t think you can handle another round of me just yet.”

     “You talk a lot for someone who’s too tired to even sit up straight.”

     “Well, maybe I just enjoy teasing you.” You lean back.

     The waiter comes back, placing your food in front of you. You immediately dig in, savoring the taste. Rin follows suit, though he’s still slower than usual. You catch him glancing at your plate from the corner of your eye, a barely concealed hunger in his gaze.

     “Are you still hungry?”

     He looks up, and this time, his glare is sharper. “I’m not that weak.”

     You smile and slide your plate closer to him, just out of reach. “Sure you’re not.”

     Rin narrows his eyes at you, then at the plate. It’s clear he wants it, but his pride’s getting in the way. The tension is palpable as he debates internally, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Just take it,” you say, amusement coloring your voice.

     He glances at you, his lips twitching into a grin. “Fine, I’ll take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”

     “Ah, see? You do know when to give in,” you say triumphantly, handing it over.

     “Don’t make me remind you how easily I can make you give in.” He threatens, but you hope it's a promise.

     Seishiro Nagi

     It’s a quiet evening at a small, intimate restaurant nestled between two towering buildings. The dim light casts a soft glow over the wooden tables and delicate plates of food. The quiet hum of conversations fills the air, but the two of you are wrapped in a peaceful bubble of exhaustion. You can still feel the lingering heat from earlier, the way his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns along your body.

     Seishiro Nagi sits across from you, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he rubs at them lazily. His eyes flicker to you briefly, but they don’t seem to fully focus. There’s a soft, tired smile playing on his lips, the kind that lets you know he's content, but at the same time, it's clear he’s almost struggling to stay awake. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his state.

     "Hey, Seishiro..." you say, leaning across the table just enough to catch his attention. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to summon the energy to keep them open.

     "Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, low, and barely audible. It’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

     “Are you okay?” You ask.

     “Mhm,” he replies, his voice raspy. "Just never had someone wear me out quite like you."

     Your heart skips a beat at his words. The casual tone in which he speaks holds a sincerity that’s hard to ignore. The two of you had just come from your apartment, tangled up in each other in ways that left you both breathless and sore, and now, here you are, in a cozy little restaurant, trying to gather yourselves.

     "Oh, um. You’re not falling asleep, are you?"

     He shakes his head slowly, but you can see the effort it takes to do even that. His eyelids slide shut for a brief moment, and you can practically hear the exhaustion in his sigh.

     "I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just... really sleepy..." His voice trails off as his head lulls slightly to the side, before he catches himself, blinking rapidly to stay alert. You watch him for a few seconds, amused, as he fights the pull of sleep.

     "You sure we should’ve come out to eat?" you ask. "I can’t help but feel like you’re about to face-plant into your food."

     "Maybe..." he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded. "But the food here’s good… 'sides, I want to be here with you."

     Your stomach fills with butterflies at that, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Despite his exhaustion, he’s always thinking of you. He makes sure you’re okay, that you’re happy, even when his own energy is completely drained.

     “Okay, but next time, we’re definitely staying in,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “You look like you could fall asleep any second.”

     He smiles lazily, not bothering to fight it. His head drops forward for a brief moment before he jerks back up. "Nah... I’m fine..." But even as he says it, you can hear the faint slurring in his words.

     You decide to let him off the hook. The waitress comes by with your food, and Nagi lifts his head slightly as she sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. His eyes widen momentarily at the scent, but they immediately begin to droop again as he lets out another long yawn.

     "Ramen," he mutters to himself, poking the noodles half-heartedly with his chopsticks. “S'good, I’m sure. Just... I’m gonna... just eat a bit."

     You watch as he takes a few bites, each one slower than the last. His head sways a little as if he’s on the verge of tipping over, and you can’t help but feel a sense of endearment well up inside you. There’s something almost too cute about how he’s always so completely and unapologetically tired.

     "Seishiro," you say softly, reaching across the table to gently touch his arm. "C’mon, let’s just go home. You look like you need a nap more than food right now."

     He stirs a little at the mention of sleep, finally looking up at you with that same, sleepy smile. "No... I want to... eat it myself..." His voice barely rises above a whisper. But after a few more bites, his resolve crumbles.

     “Alright, alright," you say, moving your hand to cup his face. His cheek feels warm under your fingers, the soft skin giving way to the faintest stubble. "You should nap after though. You’ve earned it."

     You offer him a gentle smile, one that conveys everything you’re feeling. The tenderness, the affection, the adoration. He closes his eyes at that, his shoulders sinking further into the chair, his body going slack with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he’s practically dozing, his chopsticks still loosely clutched in his hand, hanging precariously near his bowl.

     It’s not long before you’re the one gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He lets out a soft, content sigh, his body softening into you like a piece of clay, finally free from the constant pull of the world. You shift your arm around him, letting him lean into you as you pick at your food, savoring the flavors but most of your attention on the sleepy, warm figure next to you.

     "How do you always manage to make everything feel so peaceful?" you murmur to him, though he’s half-asleep and doesn’t respond. You don’t need him to. His quiet presence is enough.

     Reo Mikage

     The quiet hum of the restaurant surrounds you as you sit across from him, your heart still racing from the moments shared just hours ago. The dimly lit space feels cozy, and you can't help but grin at how relaxed Reo looks, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the weariness of the afternoon. Normally, he’s composed of confidence, like a guy who could tell you the meaning of life while simultaneously solving a Rubik's cube. But now? Now, he looks like someone who just tried to run a marathon, got distracted by an ice cream truck, and then took a nap halfway through.

     His posture is slouched, his shoulders are practically begging for a pillow, and his eyes are half-lidded with a satisfied haze that matches your own. There's no trace of his usual high-strung self. Instead, there’s a vulnerability in the way he lounges in his chair, as if the very concept of sitting upright is an effort.

     He runs a hand through his hair with slow deliberation. You smile, watching him. It's kind of adorable how tired he looks. You’ve always seen him as the guy who has everything under control, but right now? Right now, he’s more like a human noodle.

     The waiter places two glasses of water in front of you, his smile polite but with just a hint of curiosity, like they're trying to figure out if the two of you are on a first date or if something more... intimate... just went down. You can’t blame them. Reo looks like he might collapse into a puddle any second, and you’re still glowing like you’ve just won an Olympic medal in... well, let’s say “passionate hugging.”

     "Are you alright?" you ask softly, leaning forward just enough for him to hear you. His gaze flickers to meet yours, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

     "Can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me that," he murmurs, his voice rough in the way people sound when they’ve just done something that requires a lot of energy. "I’ve never been so tired in my life."

     You can’t help it. The laugh that escapes you is soft, affectionate, and a little too amused.

     "I don’t mind," you reply, your tone teasing. "I kind of like seeing you like this."

     He raises an eyebrow at that, lips curving into a slow smile, the glint in his eyes now a little more playful. He leans back in his chair like he’s got a question to ask, but it takes him an unusually long time to find the energy to do so.

     "I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you enjoy this version of me," he mutters, his hand dragging over his jaw like he’s thinking of adding a full-body stretch to the mix but ultimately decides against it.

     "You’re cute when you're tired," you say before your brain can catch up. The words slip out like they’re your new favorite outfit. Reo blinks at you for a moment, clearly processing the compliment like someone who’s just been told they’ve won the lottery. And honestly, with that tired smile spreading across his face, he kind of has.

     "Is that so?" His voice takes on a slightly deeper, amused tone, as he leans forward just enough that you can feel his presence press down on you. But not enough to touch. He’s definitely holding back, probably saving up that last bit of energy to make it through dinner without literally falling asleep mid-bite.

     "Yeah."

     "I’m not good at this," he suddenly says, his voice so quiet that it makes you lean in a little.

     You blink. "Not good at what?"

     "Being tired," he admits, his voice almost sheepish. "I’m always on the go, always thinking, always—" He stops, then laughs, like he’s just realized how absurd the whole thing sounds. "But right now, I don’t even have the energy to make a joke or flirt with you. I’m just... done."

     The confession hits you like a slap to the face. This is the Reo Mikage who can talk his way out of almost anything and charm the socks off anyone, yet here he is, admitting that he’s exhausted beyond cognition all because of you.

     You let out a laugh, not unkindly. "That’s actually kind of adorable, you know?"

     Reo sighs, his hand reaching up to rub his temples like he’s holding onto his last ounce of dignity. "I never thought I’d get to the point where I’m adorable when I’m barely functioning. This is new."

     "Okay, maybe next time we can take it slower." You reach across the table and place your hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but there’s something comforting about it. Reo’s gaze softens.

     "I’ll take you up on that," he murmurs, his voice laced with a new kind of tenderness. You were already thinking of next time? The thought made him ache between his legs.

     Reo is doing his best to keep his eyes open, but honestly, you can tell he’s fighting a losing battle. It’s like watching a cat try to stay awake, but eventually, it just gives in to the nap.

     "You’re going to pass out in a restaurant, Reo," you tease him softly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

     "I trust you’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself."

     You smile fondly. "No promises."

     Reo doesn’t respond. His eyes have long since fluttered shut, and his head starts to tilt back. For now, the world can wait.

     Sae Itoshi

     It was a quiet evening, the soft hum of chatter from other diners filling the air, but you barely noticed it. Your mind was still swimming from the rush of what had happened only hours ago, the lingering weight of the experience heavy between you and Sae.

     The two of you had just finished a rather intense bout of passion in the privacy of your bedroom, and while the fire had simmered down, it had left behind a raw, comfortable silence that felt as thick as the air around you now. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window, Sae's face relaxed into something unfamiliar, softer perhaps, but still radiating that effortless cool. Yet, there was an unmistakable tiredness in his demeanor now, a contrast to the usual energy that typically buzzed off him.

     Sae had always been the type to dominate any room, but now, with his legs stretched out beneath the table, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass, there was an undeniable exhaustion in his posture. His usual confidence seemed to have slipped away, replaced with a rare vulnerability. You studied him for a moment, his sharp features softened from the wear of the day, the slight crease between his brows as if he was deep in thought or maybe just too tired to think at all.

     You smirked slightly, leaning forward against the table, meeting his eyes. "You alright?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. You knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right. His body language wasn’t the usual effortless grace; it was more like someone who had just run a marathon, but at the same time, was reluctant to admit it.

     He turned his gaze towards you, blinking slowly as if your voice pulled him out of some trance. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, had softened into a haze of exhaustion, though there was still a playful glint in them.

     "Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and almost drawn out, "Just a little tired."

     "Oh? Is it from what we did earlier?" The teasing tone was unmistakable, but you couldn't help it. It had been wild. Sae had been insatiable earlier, his hands never still, his mouth hot against your skin, and his energy was something else entirely. He fucked you so deep and good into that matress you thought you we’re melting into it. But now, he was the one who seemed to need a rest.

     "Don't remind me," he groaned, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His usual air of confidence had given way to something much more human, and that made him all the more fascinating. It was almost like he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

     The waiter arrived at the table, placing your drinks down with a soft clink of glass. Sae barely acknowledged the server, his eyes still closed, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge of his empty plate. You gave the waiter a polite smile before they left, focusing back on Sae.

     "You know, for someone who's so used to pushing limits," you said, leaning in just a little, "you sure look like you're ready to collapse."

     He opened one eye, "I could’ve kept going if I wanted to."

     You tilted your head, studying him as he let out a sigh, the way his broad shoulders sagged as if carrying an invisible weight. "You sure? You seem pretty out of it."

     "I don’t do ‘out of it’," he replied lazily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the kind of response you would have expected from him, but it lacked the bite it usually had.

     You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, unable to hide your amusement. "Yeah, sure."

     "You think I'm lying?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to yours with a hint of challenge, though the weariness behind it was impossible to ignore.

     You shrugged. "Yeah. You look like you’re about to pass out right on the spot.”

     "Yeah, well..." Sae trailed off, looking at you as if he were trying to decipher something. He reached out across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Guess you wore me out. But I can promise you, I could’ve kept going."

     "If you say so, Itoshi."

     "Don’t get too cocky now. You’re not the only one who can wear someone out. Should I remind you of what happened on your birthday?" There was still a playfulness there, but it wasn’t quite the same as before.

     “S-shut up…” You mutter curtly. Even remembering what happened on your birthday with Sae made your legs ache.

     But as you glanced up at him again, you noticed that his eyes were now closed. A little snore escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Sae Itoshi, the unstoppable force, the man who never showed weakness, he was human after all. He could get tired. He could let himself rest. Even if it was slumping over in his chair at some random restaurant.

     "Well, I guess I really did wear you out," you whispered, resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

     Sae’s eyes fluttered open just enough to send you a sleepy glare. "I’m awake, don’t get cocky," he muttered, but the sleepy tone betrayed him.

     “Yes, sir." You teased, taking a sip of your water as you analyzed his features. Oh, how much you adored him.

     Michael Kaiser

     You lean back in your chair, trying not to giggle too loudly as you glance over at Michael, who’s sitting across from you, looking like he’s about to pass out at any given moment. His hair is disheveled, his shirt slightly untucked, and he’s giving you the most exaggerated, tired expression.

     “Are you okay?” you ask, leaning across the table with a soft smile. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertips, watching him as he lazily looks up at you.

     He blinks a few times, as though the question takes him by surprise. Then, as if processing your words, he lets out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

     “Yeah… I’m good,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, though you’re not sure if it’s from the aftereffects of your time together or just exhaustion. His gaze drifts to the menu, but it’s clear that he’s not really seeing it.

     “Did our earlier activities tire you out?” you muse, tapping your chin.

     “How could it not? I had you on that bed for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief at how you expected him to not be exhausted. “Only reason you’re fine is because I let you be pillow princess.”

     “Hey, I didn’t tell you to be so rough though, that was done in your own self indulgence.” You narrowed your eyes at him. How dare he try to blame you?

     Michael looks up, clearly attempting to muster some strength for a comeback, but all he manages is a weak smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/n,” he mutters under his breath.

     “Are you saying you don’t have it in you for another around?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head. He stares at you like he’s about to say something, but then his shoulders droop again as if the thought of moving is a monumental task.

     “Round two?” he repeats incredulously. “You’ve already broken me. What do you want from me, a medal?”

     You chuckle, leaning back in your seat as you give him a playful smirk. “Maybe,” you say before continuing “but, I think you deserve an award for stamina”

     Michael scrunches his nose, clearly starting to get embarrassed, but trying to hide it.

     “I don’t even know if I remember the last few minutes, Micha, you just kept going. Are you human?” You laugh, taking another sip of your water.

     "I came here to eat, not to get all worked up again," he grumbled.

     You flashed him a mischievous grin and winked. "Well, maybe you should've been clearer about what you wanted. I did offer you plenty to consume earlier."

     "Yeah, and you drained all the energy with it," he shot back, barely holding himself together. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Careful, darling. I can have you teary-eyed and screaming again. Don’t talk your way into something you won't be able to handle."

     The thought made you ache between your legs, a burning desire coursing through your body. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much, or else you might accidentally kill Kaiser by asking for another round. As much as you wanted it, you knew it would be too much for him in his state.

     "Really? You look like you're about to pass out," you said, raising an eyebrow as you studied his flushed face.

     "Might," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was still a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips.

     "You know, this is all your fault, right?" you teased, your tone light, but there was a definite edge of playful accusation in your voice.

     "What did you say?" His eyes snapped open at your words, narrowing in your direction as if ready to challenge you.

     "You didn’t have to be so rough," you shrugged nonchalantly, though the memory of what had just transpired made your pulse quicken. "You did this to yourself."

     "As if you'd have accepted anything less from me," he scoffed, his voice hoarse but laced with pride. "Keeping you satisfied is the real workout. The things I do, the way I wreck myself just to make sure you’re pleased..." His words trailed off, and you could feel the smugness in his tone even as he struggled to stay awake.

     "Oh please," you teased, leaning closer, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "You think I don’t know how high you get from making me see stars every time you make me come undone?"

     A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he was already starting to drift. "Hm. I guess we both have our own reasons," he rasped, exhaustion overtaking him as his head lolled to one side, his eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he had given in, how the mighty had fallen. His pride might have been unshakable in the moment, but you had a way of bringing him to his knees. You snapped a quick picture, wanting to capture this rare sight of him defeated and completely fucked past exhaustion.

     "Guess we do," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the man who had given you so much yet couldn’t resist teasing you back.

[taro-jpg]

[simple ID: 8 page comic about a red woman and a blue woman.

Page 1:

The blue woman searches for the red woman and thinks, "she's called the corner witch, and she's easy to find if you know where to look." The blue woman rounds the corner and finds the red witch. they talk to each other.

Red: what do you want? Blue: to see if you were real. Red: I don't play games, what do you want? Blue: I dunno. I guess I'm kind of chilly. Red: and what will you pay?

Page 2:

Blue hands over 34 cents, mint chapstick, and two locks of her hair. Red takes it and hands black a flower. She says, "plant it in ashes. water it with clove oil. eat each blossom. It will keep you warm. Blue takes it and says, "and it did, but not for long enough."

Page 3:

Blue runs back to red.

Blue: Cornerwitch! Red: Oh, its you again. Blue: I can't sleep.

Blue looks tired and sad.

Red: And what have you brought me? Blue: The first person I ever made. That's a bit like a firstborn, right?

She hands over a child-made drawing of a stickperson.

Red: It will do. Take my ring. Twist it three times and be free of worry.

Page 4: Blue lays in her bed, then tosses and turns. "And I was, for a while," she thinks, but she again goes back to find red.

Blue: Cornerwitch. I am sad and scared and trapped and I don't know what to do. Red: and what is the price for help?

Page 5:

Blue: here.

Blue hands over a lipstick and thinks, "a thousand kisses in potential: first kisses, true loves kisses. That's powerful. It has to be."

Blue: plus, it's in your color.

Red puts it on and takes off her cloak. She wraps it around Blue's shoulders and says: take my cloak. Wrap it tight and spin three times and you will be free.

Page 6: Blue puts on the cloak and turns into a bird. She flys, but in the end ends up crying. The caption reads, "and I was, but it was still not enough."

She searches for red again.

Blue: Cornerwitch. Red: Three times is traditional. I didn't think I would see you again.

Page 7:

Blue: I bring a fire flower, and a sleeping ring, and a cloak of wings.

Blue makes tentative eye contact with red.

Blue: And I want something that can't be bought.

Red looks surprised, but then closes her eyes and smiles. She pulls Blue into a hug and says: And you shall have it.

Page 8:

They kiss.

They hold hands, sit as birds on a power line, and walk arm in arm while smiling.

"They call us cornerwitches, and were easy to find if you know where to look.

a short comic about witches and wishes and wanting things.

(all my comics are here!)

[ablobwhowrites]

New home sweet home au, ( just saw the y/n is abnormally strong post) so one day one of the bigger bodies are fighting about who gets the TV remote or the last cookie. Idk, idc, so y/n trying to defuse the situation. Knowing if they don't a wall will be broken. Picks up one or both of the bigger bodies and drags them into a time out corner. The rest of the crew blue screens realizing that y/n if pushed could have done so much worst in the factory.

y/n never really yells at the toys but does at Harley Sawyer cause that's the only way that old machine man listens. But the one time y/n did accidentally reveal a small bit of their strength is when they where playing a game on the console and ended up dying in the game and y/n got real angry cause they were so close to the end of the level so they ends up breaking the coffee table in half by punching their fist on the solid wooden table and y/n saw their hand all bloody and went to go wash it off and bandage it.

Dogday was scared that y/n punch through a solid coffee table with their bare hand. Once y/n got in a argument with Harley and ended up having y/n get really angry cause Harley wasn't listening and basically doing the thing y/n told Harley not to do and y/n grabbed Harley's arm and basically when y/n let go of Harley's arm, it left the hand printed bend in his arm and it's scary to Harley because y/n was visibly restraining themselves and Harley thinks of what y/n would be capable of if they weren't so restraining of themselves.

I do imagine just once y/n got annoyed how yarnaby was sitting in the way again so just normally picked up yarnaby like nothing and put him to the side and walked through as yarnaby just didn't mind it and sat in the way again but the other toys where like "HE WEIGHTS A TON! HOW DID YOU EVEN DO THAT!" But y/n just doesn't mind it as its a good way to build their strength but also imagining sometimes y/n is able to carry doey for very short periods of time before having to put him down. But doctor Harley does not like being picked up as I said, he is a pathetic man who craves power but has none anymore so basically hates being told what to do and sometimes annoys y/n to the point as you said in this request, y/n will psychically grab the doctor and force him to sit in a corner with the stool and everything.

I mean no exaggeration but y/n could have killed the toys who tries to kill them with their bare hands but didn't. Y/n sometimes things how things could have been more different if they only acted on them surviving. But instead they stopped themselves and helped the toys as they didn't know the kids were turned into this and have been made into monsters. Wondering if y/n did kill the toys who tried to kill them then what would that make y/n? A monster just like the people who experimented on them? Or what they were trying to do, to survive.

(that's it for my yap session. Please if you like this or have any requests for ideas, stories or y/n's please don't be shy. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely!! im back again :D

this one is where the reader saves a child from a kidnapping or something similar and how she’s all kind to the kid and spencer sees it and he imagines how amazing of a mum reader would be !!

you’re the best !!

- 🐚

parents — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: it's implied that the little girl's parents have passed away a/n: hii !! hope you like this <3 honestly i'm not sure if i've used this gif before but i don't really care bc i spent 40 minutes looking for one </3

You were sitting cross-legged on the soft carpet of the safe room, a small doll cradled in your hands. It might have seemed unusual to anyone walking in—an FBI agent sitting on the floor playing with a child’s toy.

But the little girl in front of you had just endured something no child should ever have to experience. She had barely talked since she’d been brought into the building.

You knew better than to push her to talk, to relive the trauma. Instead, you had grabbed the nearest doll from the toy box in the corner and sat down across from her.

The girl, no older than six, clutched her own doll tightly to her chest, her knuckles white from the grip. You didn’t say much.

Instead, you gently moved your doll across the floor, mimicking a little dance, and smiled softly at her. Slowly, hesitantly, the girl’s grip on her doll loosened.

She mirrored your movements, her doll twirling hesitantly across the carpet. And then, for the first time since she’d arrived, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

What you didn’t realize was that you weren’t alone in the room—not entirely. Just outside the open doorway, Spencer stood quietly, his frame leaning against the doorframe.

He had been on his way to find you but the sight of you stopped him in his tracks. His hazel eyes softened as he watched you, his girlfriend, sitting there on the floor, completely engrossed in the moment.

He couldn’t help but smile as he decided to not interrupt the moment, He just stood there, watching as you brought a flicker of light back into the little girl’s eyes.

Spencer was still standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you and the little girl, when JJ appeared beside him. She leaned casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed as she followed his line of sight.

Spencer glanced at her briefly before his eyes drifted back to you, his expression softening once more.

JJ didn’t say anything at first, just watched the scene unfold with a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Her aunt’s here,” JJ finally murmured, breaking the silence. Spencer nodded in acknowledgment, but his attention didn’t waver. Another soft laugh from the little girl filled the room.

JJ glanced at him again, her smile widening. She could read him like an open book—knew exactly what he was thinking.

With a small sigh, JJ stepped into the room. You looked up, your smile fading slightly as you realized why she was there.

The little girl, sensing the shift, clutched her doll a little tighter, her eyes darting nervously between you and JJ.

“Hey, sweetheart,” JJ said softly, crouching down to the girl’s level. “Your aunt’s here to take you home. Are you ready to go see her?”

The girl hesitated, her small fingers gripping the doll even harder. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s okay,” you reassured her, your voice calm. “You’re going to be safe now. And you can take your doll with you, okay?”

The girl nodded slowly, her trust in you evident as she allowed JJ to help her to her feet. JJ gave you a grateful smile before leading the girl out of the room, her hand gently resting on the child’s shoulder.

For a moment, you just sat there on the floor.

The room felt quieter now, emptier, and you couldn’t help but think about how unfair it all was. That little girl—so small, so innocent—should never have had to endure what she did.

Spencer stepped into the room then.

“Hey,” he greeted you softly, extending a hand to help you up. You took it without hesitation, his fingers warm against yours.

“Hi,” you replied quietly, your voice soft as he pulled you to your feet. You didn’t let go of his hand, though. Instead, you tightened your grip.

“I don’t know the last time I played with dolls,” you said, your voice soft and reflective as Spencer turned to face you. “I forgot how fun it was,” you added, a light smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you.

You turned your gaze toward the large window in the room, watching as the little girl walked hand-in-hand with her aunt toward the elevator. The girl’s doll was still clutched tightly in her arms, a small symbol of the comfort you’d been able to give her.

As you watched them disappear into the elevator, you felt a mix of relief and sadness—relief that she was safe, but sadness for everything she’d endured.

Spencer glanced down at you, his heart swelling at the way you leaned into him. He couldn’t help the words that slipped out, his voice quiet but sincere.

“You’d be an amazing mom.”

The moment the words left his mouth, his cheeks flushed a deep red, and he immediately regretted saying it out loud. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it—he did, more than anything—but it felt like such a vulnerable admission, especially when you looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“You think so?” you asked, your voice soft as you turned to face him fully. Spencer’s blush deepened, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again.

“Yeah, of course,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweater, a nervous habit you’d come to recognize over the years.

You stared at him for a moment, a smile slowly spreading across your face. “Thank you, Spencer,” you said, your voice warm and full of affection.

Your hand reached up, gently fixing his tie, though it was more of an excuse to get him to look at you again.

Your fingers lingered against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

He finally looked up, his hazel eyes meeting yours.You held his gaze, your smile softening.

“I think you’d make a great dad,” you said quietly.

Spencer’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. He’d always dreamed of being a father, though he’d never admitted it out loud.

The idea of having a family, of creating a home filled with love and books and laughter, was something he’d tucked away in the quietest corners of his mind.

“You really think so?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your smile never wavering. “I do,” you said firmly. “You’re so patient, and kind, and you have this way of making people feel safe. You’d be amazing.”

Spencer’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Instead, he reached up, his fingers brushing against the side of your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was feather-light, almost hesitant. You leaned into his hand, as you savored the warmth of his palm against your skin.

“I’ve always wanted that,” he admitted quietly, his voice trembling slightly. “A family. Kids. But I never thought… I never thought I’d find someone who’d want that with me.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached up, covering his hand with yours. “Well, you have me,” you said softly, your thumb brushing against his knuckles. “And if that’s something you want, then it’s something I want too.”

Spencer’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he might cry. Instead, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his sweater—books and coffee and something uniquely him. His chin rested on top of your head, and you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek.

[anisangeldust]

Cupids Arrow | S.M.

Summary: After falling pathetically in love; Sam Monroe decides to give Valentine’s Day a chance.

Pairing: Sam Monroe x popular!Fem reader

Warnings: annoying Sam, use of “faggot” (in a playful way) and “gaybo” (derogatory), lwk self loathing, loser in love Sam, kinda a heavy make out sesh, semi public smut, dry humping, premature ejaculation ? Whimpering Sam, reader teases him and he gets off on it.

A/N: this is lwk self insert and I’m not ashamed abt it. Also I lwk hate it but wtv :( happy vday!!

“Naw bro, she’s fine as fuck” Josh nudges his friend as you walk past. You’d switched high schools and joined the previous semester. It’s as if you were an overnight success, fresh blood, pretty face, and rich parents, a recipe for being the top of the social ladder.

Even sad, mopey, emo Sam Monroe wasn’t immune to your charm

“Fuck off dude, she’d never go for you. You look and act like a faggot. She needs a strong man.” Josh’s friend flexes and raises his eyebrows up and down at you. You rolled your eyes playfully and continued walking to class.

With a scowl, Sam’s eyes followed the whole interaction. What of you did want him? Why did he care? Sam didn’t want you, or your preppy attitude, you fluffy hair that fell above your boobs, your low rise Abercrombie & Finch jeans that barely pass dress code— No. No. He didn’t care about or notice you. You or your big eyes and full lips— No.

And he especially didn’t notice you or the way his heart rate sped up when you smiled at him.

——

If there’s one thing Sam hated more than his father it was P.E. You were the only thing that made the class tolerable. Except he didnt think that because he barely noticed you or your teeny Juicy Couture shorts at all.

Even worse than P.E. (And Sam’s dad) was dodgeball. Fuck dodgeball. Sam thought as he stood in the corner of the gym and watched all the popular guys peacock for your attention.

A star ball hit Sam in the face, and the accompanying voice of one of the jocks followed “you’re out gaybo! Sit the fuck down!” And Sam rolled his eyes, sitting down as he flipped off the guy.

Like a guardian angel sent by a god he didn’t believe in, you threw a ball at the jock and got him out, playfully flipping him off like Sam did.

You go up to Sam and offer a hand. “C’mon, you’re back in. You okay? Looked like a nasty hit.” You smile.

Despite the bit of chill in the winter air, Sam felt a warmth spread across his face. “Yeah no.. whatever. Im good. Im fine” he scoffs, taking your hand to get up and dropping it suddenly when he realizes he just accidentally held your hand

“M’kay” I smile and saunter off to keep playing.

——

“It doesn’t mean anything. Shes nice to everyone” Sam sighs and rubs his face as he and Corey sit in the roof of his station wagon.

Corey takes a long inhale of their shared cigarette “yeah but..” he exhales “she helped you.. or some shit. I don’t know. But I can feel it. She likes you dude” he lays back.

Sam leans back and looks up at the sky, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. “Yeah but— fuck man. I can’t just ask her to be my valentine. That’s corny. And she probably has one” Sam sighs

Corey rolls his eyes “does she even entertain the other guys? There’s no harm in asking. Just like, buy her flowers or chocolate or something I don’t know. But ask her” Corey takes a puff.

“Y’know what. Fuck it man. I’ll ask” Sam nods and takes the cigarette, taking a long breath in and letting the exhale dwindle away in the night sky, his mind on you, you and your plump lips..

“Do you think Angel likes roses?” Sam groans

Corey huffs “probably. Get some chocolate too. Shit dude, maybe even a card” he giggles.

——

Walking through the halls of the school had never been so embarrassing. Who did Sam think he was? Using the little bit of cash he had that he’d usually spend on weed for chocolate and stupid flowers? It was too late to back down now. He had to focus.. but even as you got closer he could feel your eyes on him..

Clutching the six roses in his hand, Sam clears his throat to get your attention. “Hey.. uhm— could I talk to you..?” He murmurs and looks around at your friends. Your popular friends, all hanging around your locker. This was a bad idea.

The gentle smile that teased the corner of your lips almost made him forget to breathe “Of course.” You smile and lead him away to a different hallway “we’ll be right back” you look back at your friend then focus on him.

Oh god he was going to do it. “Uhm.. I was wondering if maybe you’d like.. I dunno.. be my valentine?” He murmurs and holds out the roses, opening his backpack and grabbing the chocolate.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, he was so close to just walking away, but the gentle sound of your giggles bring his gaze back. “Of course I will Sammy” you take the gifts “thank you, these are beautiful.

He was shocked. You said yes? This was a joke. A bet. You were just pitying him. “Really?” He whispers, not quite registering that you actually agreed. “Well uhm.. how about I like.. take you to dinner..?” He spews before his mind can catch up with his mouth.

You smile wider “Yes really. And I’d like that.” You take out a notebook and scribble down two things “here’s my number and address. Let me know the details” you kiss his cheek “Bye Sammy”.

He’s eyes followed you like a magnet “See ya..” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to where you kissed him, gently touching the spot with the pads of his fingers.

——

Nervous wasn’t even in the ballpark of emotions he was feeling. This still had to be some elaborate prank, a joke, never mind that he’d called you 3 times and told you to be ready for a dinner he planned, his heart swelling at the excited tone of your voice. You’d stand him up, he’d drive to your house like an idiot and you’d tell him you weren’t serious.

Telling his parents was arguably just as nerve wracking.

<<Hey mom uhm, could you help me.. maybe?>> Sam mumbled to his mother, Robin, as she cooked dinner, her eyes widened in surprise as not only did her angsty son talk to her, but he was asking for help?

She smiled << yeah i suppose.. with what..?>> her tone was gentle, almost hesitant.

Sam shrugged <<I uhm.. like.. maybe have a Valentine’s Day date..>> he cleared his throat and had to stop the smile as his mom rattled on about who you were and then helped Sam with all the details.

Standing at the door of your very nice home, in his only pair of decent dress slacks and a black button down, Sam clutched the bouquet of roses his mom helped pick out and rang the doorbell.

A middle aged woman with sleek brown hair answered the door. “Ah, you must be Sam” she smiles.

Sam nods, running a hand through his black and blue hair “yeah.. that’s me” he gives a lopsided smile “is your daughter ready?” He asks.

“She should be.” Your mom turns into the house “darling! Your dates here!” And the click clack of heels meets Sam’s ears.

You looked stunning. Breathtaking. Sam was flummoxed as he met your gaze. Your dress was a beautiful blush color, and your makeup matched. Sam reminded himself to blink as you approached “Hey.. happy Valentine’s Day” he quirked up his lips and held out the bouquet of flowers.

“These are gorgeous. Thank you” you smile and take his hand, this time on purpose, and walk to his car. Sam opens the passenger seat before climbing in the drivers seat and twisting his key.

Mr. Self destruct by Nine Inch Nails starts to play up again and Sam quickly turns it off “Sorry.. I was uh..” he flushes with sudden embarrassment at his music taste.

You turn the dial back up “don’t apologize. I’d be happy to listen to the music you enjoy” you smile and admire his side profile as he drives, your eyes drawn to the way his hands fiddle with the gear shift, taking in the faint scent of weed that lingers on the leather seats. It was so him, so perfect.

——

The date was perfect. A beautiful awkward mix of Sam’s corny jokes and your elegant aura. It became clear that not only was it not a pity date, but maybe you actually liked him back? He tried not to let himself dwell on the idea. But as the server called you guys “cute” and you just thanked him, Sam could feel himself falling deeper into this boyish crush.

Walking out of the restaurant hand in hand, Sam decided to deviate from his original plan “We should get ice cream. I know this lookout point I smoke at sometimes. It’s perfect for stargazing” the sudden boost of confidence he had talking for him.

“I’d like that a lot” you take his hand and walk to his car.

——

For the first time Sam felt like the universe was on his side. Eating ice cream on Valentine’s Day, sitting in the open trunk of his car with the girl he likes and watching the stars after a successful date, the only thing that would make it better was if he didn’t have a raging boner from watching you lick cream off your lips.

As you got down to the bottom of your cone and started to lick the melted desert off your fingers, Sam wiggled and tried to pull away. But you noticed. Of course you noticed.

“Something wrong?” You look at him and scoot closer.

He swallowed audibly “nothing.. nothing wrong.. I’m great” he shakes his head vehemently.

You lean your head closer, the hot air mingling between you “you sure? You look flushed” you giggle and tease.

He dares to lean in “am not!”

You smile “are too” and then your lips attach. The kiss is heavy, full of Sams insecurity and your desire. His inexperienced tongue moves around your mouth, his pants growing tighter from the taste of your lips.

Climbing onto his lap, you finally see the source of his awkwardness “mmm.. is that what’s wrong?” You tease and gently move your hips over his hard on.

Sam gasps into the kiss, whimpering and letting his mouth part “y-yeah..” he stutters, trying to latch onto his last shred of gentlemanly thoughts.

“You’re so adorable” your giggles make him flushed.

“I’m not adorable.. I’m.. I dunno..” he stutters pathetically, panting into the kiss and bucking his hips up.

You keep moving “pretty sure you are. You’re whimpering like a loser. A cute loser” you kiss and suck on his jaw.

Sam lets out a moan “nuh uh..” he tries for the last time to hold on, but as he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, he’s done for. With one finally little whine, he cums in his pants, bucking his hips up and kissing you.

Both if you look at eachother with wide eyes, the look in his is terrified, the look in yours in playful “did you just..?” And he tears up

“Sorry.. ‘m so sorry.. couldn’t help it..” he pouts and looks at his lap.

You flick his nose to get his attention “I’m not mad Sammy.. that was.. hot” he giggle and kiss him again.

“Hot..?” He mumbles and his hands find your waist.

“And pathetic. Hot and pathetic.” You confirm with a nod of your head.

[4linos]

haircut drama

lee minho x gn!reader

synopsis: minho gets overly dramatic about you not noticing his haircut, drawing out the teasing until you guess right.

wc: 823

(based on his silly bbl messages lol)

The afternoon was peaceful, yet something seemed odd. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone, totally immersed in whatever was on the screen. Minho sat next to you, but his typically calm manner had shifted. He kept looking across at you, shifting in his seat, and sighing lightly; his small dramatic movements were beginning to add up.

You looked up and saw him looking at you before he hurriedly turned his head. His lips were pursed, and he kept looking away, as if he were trying to hide something. But it wasn't like him to be so distant. You lifted an eyebrow, sensing something was off.

“Minho?” you asked, slightly distracted, still not sure why he was acting so… off. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, only huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. His foot tapped a little too fast on the floor, his gaze never meeting yours. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though there was a playfulness in his tone you couldn’t quite place.

You glanced at him, a little puzzled now. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine. You’re acting weird.”

Minho huffed again, louder this time, as if he was putting on a show. “I’m not acting weird,” he said, looking at the ceiling as though it held the answers to the universe. “It’s just… it’s whatever.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what was really going on. Minho was being unusually cryptic, and it was driving you a little crazy. He’d been fidgeting this entire time, making it obvious that something was bugging him.

You set your phone down and turned your full attention to him. “Okay, now you really have to tell me what’s going on, because something’s not right.”

He turned his head toward you, a tiny grin forming at the corner of his mouth, but he refused to say anything. You studied him closely. His outfit was the same as always; there was nothing new there. He wasn't upset about anything in particular, but he was acting weirdly distant. It was as if he was expecting something from you.

Finally, he broke the silence. "It's just...I can't believe you didn't notice," he continued, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "You've been sitting right here the whole time, and you didn't even see it."

“See what?” you asked, still unsure of what he was talking about, your mind racing through possibilities. “What am I missing?”

Minho sighed dramatically, shifting again, this time looking at his reflection in the window. “Nothing. Never mind,” he said, clearly trying to sound like he wasn’t affected, but you could tell he was enjoying this a little too much.

You were about to give up when it hit you like a bolt of lightning.

His hair!

Minho's hair is usually messy, but it was nicely done today, shorter and more professional than usual.

“Oh!” you said, finally getting it. “Did you get a haircut?!”

Minho froze, his lips curling into a mischievous grin, but his eyes remained playful and a little teasing. “Took you long enough,” he said, still pouting like he was holding onto his frustration for dramatic effect. “I was starting to think you were really going to ignore it.”

You blinked, realizing how obvious it had been all along. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice right away!” You immediately reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning. “But it looks good, babe! You look great.”

His face softened just a little, but his playful teasing didn’t fade. “It’s fine. I mean, I know I look good, but I wanted you to notice. I thought we were closer than that,” he said, feigning an exaggerated look of hurt.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible! I was just distracted!”

Minho leaned back against the couch, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Mmhmm, distracted,” he repeated, clearly enjoying how much he was messing with you. “I’m still waiting for a good enough apology.”

You leaned in, narrowing your eyes with a grin. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner, but it looks really good. You’re more handsome than usual,” you teased, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear.

Minho pretended to think about it, then shrugged, his grin growing wider. “Okay, fine. I’ll let it slide this time. But next time? You better notice immediately.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but you knew he was just teasing. You gave his hair another playful ruffle. “I swear, next time I won’t even blink without noticing. You’ve got me trained now.”

“Better,” he said, his tone light as he relaxed again. But then he added with a smirk, “But seriously, it looks good, right? I mean, you weren’t totally wrong for not noticing immediately…”

You shook your head, laughing at how he kept pushing it. “You’re ridiculous, Minho.” But deep down, you knew how much he secretly enjoyed the attention, even if he played it off.

//

masterlist.

[csuzlipofa]

Secret Admirer

Daniela x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day wasn’t your favorite day, but will it change when you get a note in your locker from a certain someone?

fluff, high school AU, mutual pining, friends to lovers, soft romance

Warnings: -

The hallways of your school were decorated in pink and red, heart-shaped balloons tied to lockers, and handmade Valentine’s cards pinned to bulletin boards. Students rushed past you, exchanging chocolates and gifts, giggling as they confessed to their crushes.

Valentine’s Day was always a big deal at your school. But for you? It was just another day. You weren’t expecting anything special—especially not from the one person you secretly liked: Daniela.

Daniela was effortlessly cool, with her leather jacket slung over her shoulders and that signature smirk playing on her lips. She was one of the most popular girls at school, but she never let it get to her head. Despite her sharp, confident aura, there was something about her that felt… warm. Maybe it was the way she always ruffled Yoonchae’s hair or how she teased Manon but always made sure to compliment her right after. Or maybe it was the way she smiled at you when she caught you staring a little too long in class.

You sighed, adjusting your books as you made your way to your locker. The halls were buzzing with excitement, but you ignored it. Valentine’s Day wasn’t for you—

Until you saw it.

A small, heart-shaped box of chocolates sitting inside your locker. Attached to it was a simple note:

“Meet me behind the gym after class. Don’t make me wait. –Your Secret Admirer”

Your heart skipped a beat. A secret admirer? You turned the note over, but there was nothing else. Who could have left this?

“Someone looks flustered,” a voice teased.

You spun around to see Sophia, Megan, and Manon standing nearby, smirking knowingly. Lara and Yoonchae joined them a second later, both carrying their own Valentine’s gifts.

“I—It’s nothing,” you stammered, stuffing the note into your pocket.

“Oh, come on,” Manon nudged you. “Someone clearly has a crush on you. Spill!”

Before you could protest, Lara leaned over to glance at the chocolates. “That’s a fancy brand,” she mused. “Whoever got these for you has taste.”

Yoonchae grinned. “Ooooh, maybe it’s someone we know?”

Megan crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You should go. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Sophia smirked. “Or are you scared?”

You glared at her, then exhaled. Fine. If your friends were this curious, there was no way you were backing out.

The final bell rang, and you found yourself walking toward the gym, heart pounding. The late afternoon sun cast golden light across the empty school grounds, and as you turned the corner, you saw someone leaning against the wall, hands in their pockets.

Daniela.

Your breath caught. She looked effortlessly cool as always, but when she saw you, something in her expression softened.

“You actually came,” she said, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You blinked. “You…?”

She shrugged, stepping closer. “Yeah. Took me a while to work up the courage, but…” She pulled a single red rose from behind her back, twirling it between her fingers. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You stared at her, heat rising to your cheeks. Daniela? Your secret admirer?

“I—why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, taking the rose hesitantly.

She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Because I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.” She exhaled, finally meeting your gaze. “But I like you. A lot. And I was kinda hoping you’d like me too.”

Your heart raced. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Daniela—cool, confident Daniela—was confessing to you.

A small smile played on your lips as you held the rose close. “Well… I do.”

For the first time, Daniela looked relieved. “Good,” she said, grinning. “Because I was really hoping I wouldn’t embarrass myself.”

You laughed softly. “I think you did okay.”

She smirked. “Only okay?”

Before you could answer, you heard giggling from behind a nearby pillar.

“See? I told you it was her!” Manon whispered excitedly.

“Shhh, they’ll hear us,” Yoonchae hushed.

Daniela rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression. “You guys are the worst.”

Lara peeked out. “We just wanted to see if you’d actually do it.”

Megan gave you a thumbs-up. “Nice choice.”

Sophia simply smirked. “About time.”

You groaned, but Daniela just laughed, shaking her head. “Come on,” she said, taking your hand in hers. “Let’s get out of here before they start making bets on our first date.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your fingers intertwined with hers. Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

[writingwisterias]

All of me for All of you

DI!Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Fem! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Fluff, Friends - Lovers, Insecurities, Oral (F- receiving), Praise Kink, Slight Breeding kink ;), Unprotected sex, Summary: He was always the best at surprising you Words: 2.8k Happy valentines day! I know I said it would be a drabble but I'm starting to think I don't actually know what the word is. Stay safe tonight if you do have plans! and hope you all have fun ;))

It was probably better for you that he cancelled instead of waiting in the restaurant for the dickhead to show up with some cheap chocolates and dying flowers in exchange for sex. Dating was hard enough these days, with all of the apps being used for a quick fuck instead of a meaningful connection. Did that not matter to anyone anymore? The idea of a relationship with someone who felt like your best friend seemed like a distant dream at this point. 

Instead, tonight you were sitting in your apartment with a glass of wine and some expensive chocolate you treated yourself to. It just always felt so sad spending the one holiday that is meant for people to declare their love to each other like this. To make matters worse you were the only one alone today, you couldn’t even have a galentines day since their dates didn’t decide to cancel. The only person you knew that was free was Leon. A recent edition in your life after joining his workplace. Your relationship progressed quickly into best friend status as your skills worked well together, trusting each other almost immediately. Humor even more so. 

The ideal couple if the office had anything to do with it. You wouldn’t be yourself by ignoring the blossoming crush you had on him. After all he was the office heart throb there were many others that felt the same. Yet, with his lack of text today you assumed he was slumped in some bar or busy on a mission. Too busy to deal with you stewing in your self worth. 

The rom-com playing in the background did nothing to improve your mood, only adding to the sense of loneliness that suffocated your brain. You hadn’t realised how sad it felt being alone when there were so many people booking up the restaurant spaces. To make a bad evening worse you couldn’t even get a takeaway dinner because of all ‘Love day’ deals. 

Leon however had remembered the brief comment you made yesterday about the date cancellation. The backpack he was wearing was full of dinner supplies, wanting to make sure that at least you had something to make you feel better. Did he have a date because you had one? Yes. Did he cancel it because yours was cancelled? Also yes. 

Perhaps this is just the life of someone smitten. It took him a while to even gather the courage to ask you on a date, spending days calculating every moment of it so he could finally admit how he felt only for you to crush it by showing a picture of sir dickhead. His plans ruined and replaced with some woman he found that same night at least then he wouldn’t be alone he thought. Hopefully you’ll settle for some homemade pizzas as the poor guy couldn’t even get the shop bought ones in the frozen section. 

The knock at your door surprised you more than anything, scrambling the mountain of blankets you had on the sofa for your phone in case you missed a text. He could hear your feet thudding to the door. Leon stood in the doorway, rocking on his feet as you turned each lock but the nerves settled quickly when he caught a look at your adorable face. You were wrapped in a blanket, hair down and messy, the house highlighted by the soft glow of the fairy light he helped hang up a few weeks ago. It felt like you, a ball of warmth. 

“Happy valentines day?” He chuckled holding out the squashed flowers from where they were crushed in his backpack along with a squashed box of chocolates. He grinned as the confusion on your face was slowly wiped into a happy expression. The corners of your mouth twinging upwards slightly until it finally broke into a fill on grin. “Leon, what are you doing here? I thought you had a date or something?” You questioned, stepping aside anyway to allow him to enter. He placed the flowers and chocolate on the table, his jacket finding the spot you reserved for it on the hanger by the door. “It..uh…got cancelled? Anyway, no point in us being lonely” He spoke. 

The backpack landed on the table with a thud before he started to unpack it. Various pizza toppings, bags of many types of cheeses. “What is all this?” You asked, picking up a few items trying to correlate his plan. “Well I tried to pick up some pizzas but there wasn’t any. It might be fun to try and make our own, I thought” 

You could have melted in a puddle right there and then you swore as you turned to look at him. The smile he wore was genuine for a change not the forced one he often used around the office or when the team went out for drinks. He really wanted to be here with you tonight, even going as far as to conjure up a last minute plan. So with a large grin you turned to face him, rolling up the sleeves of your pjs “Guess we better get cooking I’m starving” 

Music slowly filled the kitchen, flour covering every surface as well as each other as you both shaped your pizza bases. “We should do hearts, to keep in theme” You suggested as you started to create the arches perfectly. Leon nodded, giving an attempt himself laughing at the mess. “At least we will tell each others apart,” He joked. Whilst he lacked the artist approach that yours did it was still endearing anyway, it gave it character. “I can see the attempt” You giggled, resting your chin on his shoulder as you looked at it. Leon’s breath faltered – he hadn’t expected the night to turn so domestic, to feel like a relationship with you was something he always missed. It fuels the determination inside him to correct it to ensure that no matter what he succeeds.

“Yeah well yours was always going to be perfect, everything you do is” He spoke, catching your eye briefly before turning to look at the pizza creation he was working on. It was a prime opportunity to wrap your arms around him, hold him close and just feel his warmth seep into your bones. You didn’t though; instead you reluctantly peeled away moving towards the oven to begin cooking them. It felt like time had slowed as you both waited, sitting on the counters opposite each other whilst the pizzas baked in between you too. “So how come your date cancelled on you then?” You asked him, legs thumping on the cabinets as you swung them. 

Leon shrugged he wasn’t sure if was ready yet to admit the truth, the real reason why he was here. He was currently enjoying the atmosphere. He spent time with you often breaking his rule of allowing people close, letting them worm their way into his closed off world in case they got hurt. You didn't even need to try. You just did it, made him crumble and falter; gave him an adrenaline rush of something that wasn’t fighting death. “Rather be here instead anyway” He stated. You believed him, the look in his eye told you he was content. Happy even. The beeper on the oven interrupted your own admittance, cutting the tension you had both created before it was too late. You didn’t want to ruin this. 

“How come I have the shit blanket?” He grumbled as you both curled on the sofa, the pizzas cut and ready on plates in your lap. He was letting you choose the movie today, after all he chose the last one a few weeks ago. “Because this one is my favorite” You stated eyes glued onto the screen. You were both a respectful distance away, curled up in either corner of the sofa, your legs touching slightly as you sprawled out at a diagonal. You had managed to find a cheap candle, lighting them around the tv which added to the warmth of the room. It was the perfect night in. “I like that one as well though” He whined. You knew he did, he stole it every time you got up to the bathroom, used it when he slept on your couch. It smelt like him every time he left; that's why it was your favourite. 

“Cry about it. I could have not given you one” 

It was true he supposed, he could have been left to the cold. His body moved before he thought logically about it, sliding across the couch holding his pizza carefully. Worming his way next to you under the blanket. You stiffened as he moved the pillows around to create a fake arm rest, kicking his legs out on the coffee table in front of him. He was so close, you could feel his arm brushing against yours as he moved them to bring the food to his mouth. Brushing his hand against your thigh as he rubbed the crumbs off his finger tips. 

“This pizza’s great, what a great idea. I wonder who came up with” He joked but when he turned to look at you his breath caught in his throat. You gazed at him with a soft smile, your eyes twinkling in the fairy lights. Your hand landed on his, holding it gently. “How do you want your credits?” You whispered, heart pounding as you leaned closer. Leon could feel your breath against his cheek, feel the weight of you as you leaned in closer to him. His eyes scanned you, looking for any sign that he was reading the situation wrong only to find that yours were doing the same. Waiting for the rejection from him, for him to push you away and leave you alone again. 

Leon didn’t dare, not when your lips tasted this sweet once he finally closed the gap. Your skin soft underneath his palms as he held your face and brought you close. The empty plates clattered to the floor, the sound muted as the blanket fell with them. Leon dominated you, pushing you back against the couch. “Are you sure about this?” He asked nervously, his body caged you in. His aftershave intoxicating you as you nipped at the skin of his neck. “I’m sure” You whispered against the stubble that covered his jaw. Slowly making a trail back to his lips. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing because we are lonely” 

“Good. Me neither” 

With a smirk his fingers began to slide up your pj top, helping you remove it quickly. “No bra?” He teased as he pulled one of the hardening buds in his mouth. Sucking at the flesh loudly, his tongue circling the bud with an infinity symbol flicking as he moved over it. You couldn’t even respond to him if you tried, your heart thumping as he kissed along the valley of your breasts. His fingers replacing his lips on the breast he left behind. Your fingers tugged at the strands of his hair, pulling him closer to your chest like you were trying to suffocate him with the sweet smell of lavender that lingers on you. 

You felt him smirk his teeth grazing the bud, small nibbles around the area that was soon to leave marks. He wasn’t even doing anything but devouring your breasts and it got you all hot and bothered. Your breathless moans were your only form of communication; words failing you as he continued to move south. His grip was gently – barely there as he moved his hands down to your thighs. Leon’s fingers dug into the soft flesh prying your legs apart. Your grey shorts are already displaying your eagerness to him. “Never pictured you to become this horny” He teases, his tongue moving up the insides of your thigh marking the journey he made. You felt him suck against the fabric, moaning deeply as the muted taste of you hit his tongue. 

His fingers returned their teasing touch, hovering above the waistband of the shorts. Leon however paused, glancing back up to you waiting silently for a final form of approval before doing anything. Your fingers stroked the soft strands of his hair as you smiled down at him and nodded. The shorts were removed fairly quickly and discarded somewhere in the room. “Cute” He chuckled upon seeing your underwear. You had totally forgotten about the heart shaped ones you wore this morning after not expecting company. “I…I wasn’t planning on this” You chuckled nervously. Your cheeks are heating up as embarrassment flooded through your system. You knew he didn’t care, not when his lust blown eyes watched the unveil of your underwear as he exposed your pussy. 

He watched the poor thing clench around nothing, the cold air making it twitch and spasm as you silently begged for attention. Who was he to deny you? This is what he wanted after all. To finally prove his affection and how much you mean to him, how much effect you had on his life since entering it. His kisses were firm, your arousal was just as sweet as your personality. Now sweetening up his bitter outlook on life. Fuck it was addictive, to ellicite each whine and whimper as he devoured your taste. His cock throbbed in his jeans. It was almost painful.

You didn’t miss the subtle shift in his hips as he ground them into the couch trying to give himself any form of pleasure he could. “Leon- please..more” You whimpered, tugging at the soft strands of his hair to get him to face you. His mouth curved into a grin upon hearing your request. Your slick coating his lips like lip gloss as he finally lifted his head to face you. “Anything for you” He grinned. The warmth seemed to follow him as he stood up, his presence immediately missed as began to remove his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion. 

His cock was pretty, the tip flushed red – cum beading in greeting of your greedy eyes. The shaft decorated in veins you knew would feel perfect as he moved himself through your folds. He knew he should fiddle through his pockets for that shiny wrapper, keep each other protected but at this moment he didn’t seem to care. Not when you were looking at him like that. Your legs spread even wider, pulling them back towards your chest as he returned to his spot. The couch had barely enough room for this type of motion, the coffee table limiting his leg room meaning it was an awkward angle. It didn’t matter in hindsight, not as he sunk himself in your welcoming warmth.

For the first time in years his mind was empty, no thoughts except for the pleasure that coursed through his cock, all of his blood rushing south. Fuck you were devine, he wouldn’t regret what he did to get to this moment. That poor woman who thought she was going to get lucky is now sobbing at home alone. He didn’t care not when you felt this fucking good. Tasted this fucking good. 

“I’m never letting you go” 

His obsession with you was rising, jealousy making him sick with thoughts of the competition he didn’t even have. Leon poured everything he could in the movement of his hips, hoping you’ll never forget the way his cock curved slightly as he entered. The tip brushed against your cervix as he pushed you further into the couch. Your nails grounded him, dug into his shoulder blades as you lost yourself to the feel of his cock. “I don’t want you to” 

The words were breathless, teased against the nape of his neck as you spoke them. His eyes met yours, he didn’t have to explain anything. Not with the history of his love circling around them. You had both been through too much, the job you shared demanding so much of everything. You both needed this. Something to return to – to remind you both you were still human. 

Your orgasm builds up quickly with his rhythmic thrusts hitting every spot you need him to. Your back arched with a gasp as it finally shattered through you, Leon smiled at the sight of you, his hips moved against yours at a bruising pace. It was a dangerous line to push himself this close without pulling out, the claim he could have by finishing inside you. Prevent you from finding anyone else, get anyone else from looking at you. He craved you for so long and it was gone too soon. “Where?” He grunted, burying his head in the crevice of your neck. “Inside” you whispered. 

He smiled against your skin, biting down as he finally let himself go. Your nails dragged along his skin as you felt his warmth flood through you. The two of you laid there, basking in the aftermath of your affection. Breaths mingling as you stared at each other with giddy smiles. “Happy valentines day” He whispered before bringing your lips in a sweet kiss. “Thank you, Leon” 

[wvyik]

you wanna?.. d.w. ᝰ.ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean’s been acting weird all morning, but you don’t think much of it — until he casually slides something across the table between bites of waffles. And just like that, your whole world tilts.

warnings; mdni!! pre-established relationship, aggressively casual proposal, dean being a menace as usual, fluff so sweet it might kill you!!… eventual smut (because let’s be real, this man does not propose without following through. is skip able though!!). dirty talk, dom! dean, oral sex, praise kink, unprotected sex, after care cause ima softie.

notes; AHH!! had so much fun with this one. tysm for all the support >ᴗ< i appreciate you all!! tbh this is the best thing I’ve ever written in a while. we love dean with a happy ending. ꒰˶  - ˕ -꒱ buckle up for the spicy stuff later!! as always, feel free to drop a comment or yell at me if you’re feeling some type of way about this. i’m here for it.

words; 4420

It’s early. Too early.

You’re exhausted in that way only hunters understand— the kind that seeps into your bones, makes your muscles ache, keeps you in that hazy space between asleep and awake, even with a steaming cup of coffee cradled between your hands.

Dean, of course, looks annoyingly good for someone who barely got any sleep. His hair is a mess, there’s a fading bruise on his jaw from last night’s hunt, but he’s still effortlessly him — green eyes warm with amusement, shoulders relaxed, mouth curling into a smirk as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

“You look like you got run over,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, staring at him blankly. “Thanks. You always know just what to say.”

He chuckles, reaching for his own mug. “Just speakin’ the truth, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Not now, anyway. You’re definitely too tired for that.

The sound of Dean shuffling around the motel room pulls you out of your half-sleep. You crack open one eye, only to find him already dressed, boots laced up, and pacing with that ‘we’re about to hit the road’ look in his eyes. His leather jacket is hanging on the back of the chair.

You rub your eyes, groaning, and try to keep the sleepiness from spilling out of you. “Do we really have to go now?”

Dean grins, not even bothering to look at you. “You know how I feel about sitting still.”

You roll your eyes again, itching to bargain with him, but knowing if you did, he’d just drag you into whatever shenanigans he had planned for the day anyway. After a couple of minutes, the room starts to feel too small, and the silence is making your head spin, so you sit up. The plan— at least, the unspoken one — was to hit the road after a quick breakfast, and you’ve learned that when Dean Winchester says quick, he means quick.

The car ride isn’t long. Dean’s humming along to the radio, steering with one hand as he swerves around potholes, and you’re trying to ignore how damn good he looks in the morning light filtering through the car windows. Eventually, the sound of the engine and the warmth of the sun lull you into a comfortable quiet. You’re barely paying attention when you both pull up to an old diner on the side of the highway, a place that looks like it’s been around longer than you’ve been alive.

Dean parks and shoots you a look and smirks. “I’ll bet you ten bucks the pie here could change your life.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. You know better than to doubt him by now.

The diner is quiet, just a few truckers scattered at the counter, the hum of conversation mixing with the low crackle of an old radio playing Blue Öyster Cult in the background. The air smells like burnt coffee and bacon grease, and the vinyl booth seat sticks slightly to your thigh where your jeans have a tear, but it’s…nice.

Comfortable.

It’s one of those rare, normal mornings. No hunts lined up. No immediate danger. Just you, Dean, and a crappy little diner on the side of the road.

You should’ve known he was up to something.

Dean’s been acting weird all morning.

Not in an obvious way. He’s still teasing you, still stuffing his face with an ungodly amount of waffles and bacon, still shooting you that signature smirk every time you make a face at him.

But his knee is bouncing under the table. His fingers keep drumming against his coffee cup. And every once in a while, you catch him looking at you — this soft, thoughtful expression flickering across his face before he shakes it off.

You think about asking. But then your waitress swings by again, and Dean immediately perks up, flashing her a charming smile as she tops off his coffee.

“Another round of waffles, darlin’?” she asks, clearly smitten. You don’t blame her.

You smile softly behind your mug as Dean leans back, cocky as ever. “Wouldn’t say no.”

The waitress laughs, shaking her head. “You got a hell of an appetite.”

“That’s what she said,” Dean mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table. He deserved that one.

By the time the waitress walks away, Dean is already back to his food, completely unfazed. You shake your head, cutting into your own waffle, stealing one of his bacon strips just to be a menace. He lets you.

And then— casual as anything, like he’s commenting on the weather— he reaches into his pocket, pulls out something, and slides it across the table toward you.

A ring.

Just sitting there. Between your plate and the salt shaker.

Your brain short-circuits. You stare at it, then at him. Then back at it.

Dean, the absolute menace that he is, doesn’t even look up from his food. Just swipes some syrup with his fork, chews, and— without a single ounce of drama — says,

“You wanna?”

You blink. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Because what the hell is happening right now?

Dean finally looks at you, chewing like this is just another Thursday.

“What?” he says around a mouthful of food.

Your heart is slamming against your ribs. You feel warm all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the crappy diner coffee or the fact that Dean Winchester just proposed to you like he was offering you the last french fry.

“That’s your proposal?” Your voice comes out hoarse, disbelief and laughter mixing in your throat.

Dean tilts his head, squinting at you. “What, you want me to get down on one knee in a greasy diner?”

“You literally just slid it across the table like it was a packet of sugar!”

He shrugs, still watching you, still unreadable in that way that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t exactly my style, sweetheart.”

Your fingers shake as you reach for the ring. It’s simple— silver, understated, perfect. It feels warm from being in his pocket, the edges smooth against your skin.

Dean’s watching you carefully now. The teasing is gone, replaced by something softer, something quieter.

And that’s when it hits you.

Dean Winchester— who has faced monsters, demons, literal hell — is nervous. Like he’s bracing for impact. Like there’s a real, tangible fear in him that you might say no.

Your throat tightens.

“You really want this?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Dean exhales through his nose, sets his fork down. He leans forward slightly, arms resting on the table, eyes locked onto yours.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice steady now, sure in a way that makes you melt. “I already got you. This is just making it official.”

Your heart stumbles. Because of course he’d say it like that. Like it was never even a question, like you already belonged to each other. Like you always would.

The ring feels solid between your fingers, grounding. It’s not grand or flashy. It’s him. It’s you. It’s perfect.

And god,

You don’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

You swallow hard, slip it onto your finger. It fits like it was meant to.

Dean watches, lets out a breath like he was holding it for years, and then— because you know him, because you love him— you smirk and say,

“You better get me a pie for this.”

That knocks the tension right out of him. His mouth quirks, the easy grin sliding back into place. “Damn right, I will.”

And just like that, you’re engaged. Not with a big speech. Not with grand gestures. Just this. Just him.

In a tiny diner off the highway, with bad coffee and waffles and the love of your life sitting across from you, grinning like a fool.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions building up in your chest. You weren’t expecting this. Hell, you didn’t even know you needed it. But now that it’s here, now that he’s here, you feel like your whole world is shifting into place.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his.

Dean chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “You’re the one that’s perfect, sweetheart. I’m just lucky.”

You shake your head slightly, not sure how to respond. You’ve been together for so long now, and yet, this moment still feels like a beginning. Like everything that came before— every hunt, every stupid argument, every late-night conversation— it was all leading to this. To this small, simple, perfect moment in a stupid dingy diner.

Dean cups your face, tilting your chin up so you’re looking directly at him. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, and for once, you see a rawness that he doesn’t always show.

“You know that’s the thing,” he murmurs. “It’s not about what you deserve. It’s about what you’re willing to fight for. And you—” He pauses, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “You’re worth every damn fight, sweetheart. Always will be.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you realize you’re not even breathing properly. It’s overwhelming, the way he can say so much with so little. His words hit you deeper than you expected, more than you thought you needed.

“I’m in this. All the way, okay?” he says softly, like he’s reminding you, like he’s trying to make sure you know it, truly know it. “I don’t do half-assed. Not with you.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper, the emotions bubbling up.

His lips press against your forehead, soft and tender. And in that moment, you know—you know—that you’re not just his. He’s yours too. No matter what comes next, you’re a team.

Dean pulls back, a playful smile tugging at his lips again, trying to break the weight of the moment. “So, uh, you think I could maybe get a little ‘yes’ out of you? Just a tiny one?”

You laugh softly, your chest full. You tilt your head, looking up at him with a smile that feels too big for your face. “Yeah. Yeah, you could.”

Dean’s eyes light up, a twinkle in them like he’s won the lottery, like this was the answer he’s been waiting for. He presses another kiss to your lips—brief, but meaningful.

And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe. Like the world, in all its chaos, has paused just for you two. Like nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You know there will be bad days, tough hunts, and fights, but for now, this moment is enough. This love is enough.

And you, you finally feel like you’ve found where you belong.

“Guess we should finish our waffles, huh?” Dean says, the mood lightening again, but his hand still resting on yours.

You chuckle, your heart still racing. “Yeah. But let’s take it slow, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dean grins, that cocky, perfect grin you know so well. “Works for me.”

As you both finish your meal— laughing, talking about whatever random thing crosses your mind— there’s an understanding between you two now. You don’t need big gestures or flashy moments to know what’s real.

What’s real is here. What’s real is you two.

And it’s always been that way.

Back in the motel room, the door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud. The dim light from the lamp on the nightstand cast long shadows across the room, the only sound the faint hum of the old air conditioning. The weight of the night pressed in on you— quiet, comfortable, and full of possibilities you weren’t ready to voice just yet.

Dean kicked off his boots and tossed his jacket onto the chair by the door, then turned to face you. There was something different in his eyes now, something deeper, as if the last few hours had opened up a door neither of you could walk away from.

You stood by the bed, your heart thumping in your chest, but your feet seemed glued to the floor, unsure of what came next. His gaze flickered down to your hand, still resting in his from the diner, then back up to your face. That smile— always so effortless, so charming— pulled at the corner of his lips.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft, but with that low, steady warmth you knew so well.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your words barely escaping as your breath hitched. Your heart was racing, but you felt rooted to the spot, unsure if you should make the first move or wait for him to pull you in again.

Dean’s eyes never left yours as he slowly closed the distance between you, his movements slow, deliberate. You could feel the space between you getting smaller, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker, charged with that same electricity you couldn’t ignore.

When he finally reached you, his hand came up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, but there was no mistaking the heat in his fingers, the way they lingered just a little longer than necessary, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, eyes fluttering shut for a second, just to take in the moment. He was so close now. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, close enough that the faint scent of the leather jacket he had left behind filled your senses.

Dean’s lips brushed against yours with a familiarity that made your heart skip a beat. This wasn’t the first time— far from it— but each time felt like it was. Every kiss was still a little bit like a spark, each one lighting a new fire. And tonight, there was something different. Something deeper, even though you’d been here before.

His fingers trailed down your arm again, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of your skin as if he couldn’t get enough of it. You shifted beneath him, feeling the tension of the moment settle between your legs, but it wasn’t rushed. It never was with him.

“You know what you do to me, right?” Dean’s voice was low, rougher now, but laced with that familiar tenderness. He didn’t need to say it, not really. You could feel it in every touch, every lingering kiss.

You nodded, your lips parting as you leaned up to meet him halfway, pressing your body closer to his. You’d been here before, but that didn’t mean it ever lost its power. It was still just as electrifying, just as sweet.

His hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, pausing for just a moment as his eyes locked onto yours, searching for any hesitation. But there was none. You didn’t need words; your body told him everything. Your jeans met the floor with a slight thud.

With a deep, almost frustrated sigh, Dean pushed your jeans down just enough to slide his hand under them, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip. It was familiar, comforting even, but the way he touched you now felt different. There was a slowness, an intentional care in every movement. Like he wanted to savor you this time.

His lips met yours again, but this kiss was slower, more languid, as if he was taking his time, soaking in the moment. He kissed you like he was letting his feelings pour into every movement, every press of his lips, until the rest of the world disappeared.

“You make me forget everything else, you know that?” Dean’s breath was hot against your ear, his hands expertly undressing you, but it was still slow. As if he was enjoying the feel of your skin more than the outcome of it. You could tell that this wasn’t about rushing, about getting to the end. This was about being with you, right here, right now.

You breathed his name again, a plea more than a whisper, and Dean, ever the attentive lover, responded immediately, his lips trailing down your neck, to your chest, as his hand wandered over you, knowing exactly where to touch to make your breath hitch.

But this time, it wasn’t about the heat of the moment— it was about the slow, delicious build of something bigger. His lips left a trail of soft, lingering kisses across your skin as his hand gently slid down your side, his touch grounding you to the bed. His body moved against yours with that familiar rhythm, but tonight, it felt like it meant more. Like you meant more.

He paused for just a moment, looking at you with those eyes—dark and soft all at once. “I love you, ‘s fucking much. I wanna make you feel so good, baby.” His voice was thick with something deep, something serious, and it made your chest tighten with emotion.

You nodded, pulling him back to you, pressing your lips to his with a fierce intensity. It wasn’t just the physical connection anymore. This was something that went deeper, something stronger than before. And you wanted it. You wanted him.

Dean groaned as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he moved between your legs. You moan, as he skillfully worked his fingers in you, slowly climbing on top of you— as your head hit the not-so-soft pillows on the bed. You could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong.

“Dean…” The word came out like a breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you tugged him back up, wanting his lips on yours again. He smirked, just slightly, but there was nothing playful in the way his eyes held yours. It was all raw, all real.

“Easy,” he whispered, voice gruff but gentle as his thumb traced over your lip. “Atta girl, doing so good for me.. Don’t worry bout’ it, we can take your time.”

You nodded, your eyes heavy with desire but filled with trust. “I need you, De..” Your voice was soft, but there was a definite edge to it. The words felt like they had weight, like they meant something. Something more than just this moment.

He exhaled deeply, eyes darkening as his hand slid to your waist, guiding you beneath him as he moved down on you, slipping your panties fully off. The space between you was so minimal now that it felt like you were one.

His mouth lightly sucked on your needy clit, his thick fingers still working their magic inside you. You couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan. You were so close, he could tell.

“Mhm, honey.. let it out, cum on my face,” he whispered against your needy pussy. The stubble on his jaw teasing you even more, as he practically buried his face in your wetness.

Oh, you were a goner. “Dean— fuck, I’m gonna—“ You didn’t even finish your sentence as the orgasm came rushing through you. As dean still worked, still slurping up your juices in his mouth like his life depended on it.

He finally let his face out of between your thighs, kissing you gently— letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” Dean muttered, his voice raw as he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “Never forget that.”

You met his gaze, your chest tight with emotion. “I won’t. Not with you.”

Dean’s lips found yours in a deep kiss, and as he slowly pulled back, his hand moved to your waist, gently coaxing your hips up against his. His jeans came off, so did the shirt — the sound of the zipper loud in the quiet of the room, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body again. He was so close, and yet, there was still something in the way he touched you that made everything feel like it was building to something more.

“Don’t tease me,” you whispered, your voice a little breathless, but there was a hint of playfulness too—something you knew he’d pick up on.

He smirked, his lips brushing your jaw as his body settled between your legs. “Me? Tease?” His voice was a teasing mockery of innocence, but there was nothing innocent in the way he touched you, nothing at all.

“Oh, yeah, and this? Off.” He gestured to your shirt, earning a chuckle from you. He skillfully pulled the shirt off of you, unclasping your bra with ease, gently touching up on your breasts.

Dean’s eyes never left yours, that fire still burning in them, but there was a softness there too, a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer. His lips moved to your neck again.

You looked at him wide-eyed, as he pressed his lips back onto yours briefly, before sliding one hand down his boxers, pulling his hard cock out of its confinements, already leaking with pre-cum. You never get tired of seeing it, really.

There’s a hunger in his gaze, but it’s a hunger you recognize—one that’s been building between you two, one that isn’t just about tonight. It’s deeper, quieter, but oh so real.

“Y’ ready for me?..” he murmured, and you could only respond with a soft ‘mhm’ sound, too turned on to make any proper sentence.

You’re not just the next moment in line for him— you’re everything. His hand on your skin, his body pressed to yours, it’s all proof of the quiet trust that’s been growing between you since day one.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, as he slowly pushes inside of you, his heart beating steady against yours. It’s like he’s giving you all of him, in this simple, quiet way, and you know you have his heart just as much as he has yours

“That’s it— Jesus, sweetheart. You’re still so fucking tight, can’t believe it’” he chuckles slowly, and you whimper when he finally gives all of himself for you. And he waits for your permission to start moving.

“De.. okay— you can move.” You manage to say breathlessly after a little bit. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, though. As he slowly moves in and out you swear you see stars. And gosh, the sounds that fill the room, it’s so goddamn good, you think before biting down the moan.

“Mhm, yeah.. So fuckin’ perfect, angel, you’re doing so well for me.” He almost whimpered. Goddamn you, Dean — And your filthy mouth.

His lips found yours again, and the kiss was deeper this time— full of assurance, of trust, of a promise that nothing could tear apart. You could feel how much he believed in the two of you, in the bond you shared.

His hands roamed your body, confident and firm, like he knew exactly where to touch to make you lose your breath. Every movement was purposeful, a teasing promise of what was to come.

“De— m’ so close, please” you managed to whimper through the moans, trying to keep up with his pace with your hips.

His lips lingered along your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, his breath hot against your ear. “I know baby, me too. You can come, sweetness, m’ right there with you.” he murmured, his voice a hushed growl that sent shivers down your spine.

As you both reached your climax, you can’t help but smile. After the world-shifting intensity of the moment, you both lay there, tangled up in sheets and each other. Dean shifted just enough to pull you close, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm against yours, as though he was grounding himself in the softness of your presence.

His fingers brushed gently through your hair, the touch so tender it was almost as if he was trying to memorize every strand, every curve of you. The warmth between you didn’t need words; it was enough to feel him there, still connected to you in every possible way.

“Are you okay?” Dean’s voice was low, but it carried that softness you’d only hear when the walls were down and he wasn’t trying to hide anything. There was a genuine worry in his tone, an unwavering need to make sure you were feeling just as safe and cared for as he felt.

You nodded against his chest, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat that reminded you of the calm after the storm. “I’m perfect,” you whispered, your voice still a little breathless, but full of warmth.

Dean chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting, like it always was when he felt content. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, pulling you closer, his arm draping over you protectively as if making sure you stayed there, safe in his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the gesture soft and caring, his way of showing that there was more to him than just the physical connection. It was always about the little things—the way his touch lingered, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

There was no rush to get up, no need to fill the space with words that didn’t need to be said. You both understood each other in the quiet.

Dean’s thumb brushed against your hand in a rhythm that made you feel grounded, like he was telling you he was there in ways that didn’t need to be explained. Slowly, you let your eyes flutter closed, wrapped in the softness of his care, feeling safer than you had ever felt.

He kissed your forehead again, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re good, you and me. Always gonna be good.”

And in that moment, with the faintest smile tugging at your lips, you knew he meant every word. The world outside the room didn’t matter, not when you had this—this peace, this love, this feeling of being completely and utterly cared for.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos ⊹ ࣪ ˖

tysm for reading pooks! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

── all rights reserved © 2025 wvyik | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[spvcekittie]

hey i would like to make a request but i couldn't find your rules so if you don't feel comfortable with it you can ignore this.

jinx x reader where the reader is jinx's girlfriend but they are at odds and haven't spoken in a few days and the reader goes to a nightclub and dances sensually just to piss jinx off and make her jealous so she roughly fucks the reader as punishment and they end up reconciling in the end

wc. 2.9k

warnings. doomed yuri, toxic jinx, toxic relationships, honestly everyone is mean in this, implied drinking, fingering, brief mention of death, ooc (especially lux), lux is jinxs’ ex, modern au, implied cheating

( divider creds: @cafekitsune )

the morning beams through the drawn curtains, doing little to protect you from the hot rays of sun. you accept defeat after a few tosses and turns, sitting up and wiping the sleep out of your eyes. it’d been days now, days since you’d stormed out of her apartment.

her lack of communication had been the last tick in your ticking time bomb that day, and you were just about ready to explode when she’d gotten all jelly at you dancing up a storm with your friend. her slim face shivered with anger, and she seethed through clenched teeth — when you asked her what was bothering her, hand on her thigh, she’d just turned away pouting.

jinx always had trouble with being dismissive, you know this. you’ve known about her past issues with relationships (not romantic!), but that’d never warranted her treating you like this.

sometimes she even uses the excuse that it’s her first relationship, ‘i don’t know how the fuck you want me to improve when this is my first time, and you’re on my ass about being better 24/7!’ or whatever she said.

something about giving her a break, too.

so that’s what you did.

drunken curses, middle fingers and slamming doors later and you’re stumbling down the street. it was easy to find where you were going when you were so honed in on her. like a moth to a flame, you arrive at lux’s house — she says about 3-3:30 in the morning, the blank stare she gave you with the information proof enough she didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

your best friend had opened the door, groggy from sleep with hair sticking up on one side, coated in sweat. all you can think about is the sleep she must’ve had while you were busting your ass off arguing with jinx.

you turn to face the time on the clock, and—

BANG!

“it’s 5 in the evening, you know that?” she stands by the door, hand placed on her hip like a scolding mother would to their child. she shakes her head, silky light hair slipping over her shoulders.

“yeah, yeah..” you sigh, letting yourself flop back on the bed.

“don’t yeah yeah me,” she hisses, swinging off the door frame to saunter over to the closet in the corner of the room. “we’re going out tonight. but i’m starting to reconsider if you’re going out looking like that.”

you hear the smile behind her voice, and you scoff out a laugh, rolling your eyes up to the popcorn ceiling that groans under the forces of the wind outside.

speaking of — you sit up just enough to get a good look at her, brows furrowing at her outfit of choice.

“going out where? going out in the freezing cold where it’s reaching ridiculous wind speeds?” you eye the white dress she adorns, the glitter bouncing off the furniture and reflecting tiny sparkles, like stars on the yellow walls.

she narrows her eyes at you inquisitively.

“to that one place. y’know the one downtown everyone’s buzzing about. durr.” she states it like it’s obvious what she’s talking about, crossing the room with a pep in her step.

“you act like i should know what you’re talking about.” you call out to her. your limbs ache, every inch of your body feels like you’re on fire, fingertips sizzling as you grasp the covers to pull them back.

“then get to know!” she counters, poking her head around the corner. “please get yourself ready, because i know how you are when you leave shit to the last minute.”

poking your tongue from between your lips, you gesture her away with a swat of your hand, like a lingering fly. she obliges, shutting the door behind her and you find yourself alone once again — too alone.

the silence feels deafening, and all you can think about is jinx, how she’d fill that void right up. when you reach for your phone you’re half expecting to see her notification pop up, on any account really.

but nothing.

those random pictures she sends you throughout the day? none. not even a text.

the last message sent was that night, it was you giving the final text that simply read ‘fuck you’. the two ticks beside the text tells you she read it.

a pang of embarrassment washes over you. that was corny as fuck.

you wonder what went through her head when she saw that. did it make her upset? did it make her happy? was she glad to have to not worry about you anymore?

you’ve thought about texting her, truthfully you’ve thought about it more than you probably should.

fuck, you need a night to yourself.

if a night to yourself means going out with your ex’s ex to a nightclub, you’re screwed.

which is where you find yourself now, sat at a table with a group of lux’s other friends. you don’t know these people, and you feel weird barging into their space. thankfully, they’re welcoming enough — as welcoming as shoving half empty cups in your hands can get.

with the designated job of being the bartender for the night, you don’t do much other than just sit around. you feel lifeless, like a robot programmed to respond only when spoken to — which wasn’t often as they’d typically look right through you in a conversation.

lux would give you soft glances every so often, asking if you’re okay, but you can tell she’s caught up in the rush of being with friends.

that’s okay.

this was suppose to be a night to yourself anyway, you tell yourself as you wander seamlessly over to the bar. you could indulge in a drink or two — you need it.

you were just about to order yourself a drink before lux came rushing over, hands clasping your shoulders and shaking you there. you balk, eyes wide at the sudden whiplash.

“you have no idea who i just saw!” she cries, laughing between laboured breaths. you eye her curiously.

she must be talking about an old friend from school or something, or maybe one of her old hook ups she’d forgotten the name of. typical lux.

“uhh, no, i don’t.” you cock your head before she’s reaching out to pinch your cheeks between her head, snapping your head to the right to see—

oh, fuck.

“of course she’s here.” you spit, now feeling yourself growing riled up. your fingertips buzz, and you feel all the emotions you’d felt from that argument simmer back up. you feel hot.

she looks how she usually does; hardened at the edges. her heavy boots sit idly against the table in front of her, ringed fingers curled over whatever blue concoction she’s drinking. she’s rocking her usual hard rock wardrobe, leather studded jacket slung lazily over her shoulders that rise and fall steadily as she takes in the stuffy environment.

“right?” lux whispers back, like jinx could hear her from across the busy room. “imagine she followed you, like some creepy stalker!”

she jeers, wiggling her fingers teasingly over your shoulder till you cringe away, swatting at her hand. you feel yourself shrink when jinx’s eyes pass yours. time seems to slow, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your stomach. she doesn’t seem too pleased to see you, top lip quirking up into a grimace when her blue eyes flit to lux sitting perplexed by your side.

she looks like she’d drop kick you in an instant if she reached you, and that thought alone is enough to give you an ego boost.

you bite back the smirk that threatens to part your lips, and you glance over at lux, turning between the two of you. jinx seems to have lost interest at this point, shaking her head and turning to take a sip from her miscellaneous drink.

fuck it.

“let’s dance,” you swoon, snatching lux’s hand into your own. she seems starstruck, gazing at you through a filter jinx no longer seems to view you through.

you’re typically way too nervous to be doing this, let alone dancing by yourself. you move against lux with a lack of confidence — truthfully it’s her doing all the moving; hands guiding your body against hers, sliding down to your hips when you bump closer, giggling like two schoolgirls over a collective crush.

you’re clumsy on your feet, always have been. it’s always been jinx to guide your dancing, ‘step on my feet’ she would giggle, holding your hand to her chest like something sacred.

it’s when lux presses closer, hand coming up to grasp for your jaw that you realise what you’re doing.

you near gag in her face, cringing away and shoving her with more force than you would’ve liked.

“wha—!” she gasps, arms open like you’d just offended her and the generations before her. “hey, what did i do?”

you hear her from over your shoulder as you rush out — out and more importantly away from everyone. you weave through the crowd, shoving past ignorant people when necessary and apologising when you should.

the bathrooms.

‘no one goes in there’ you tell yourself as you round the corner, nudging the door open with your shoulder. out of everywhere to be at a club, surely peoples options don’t narrow down to the bathrooms in the back, no?

you’re pretty fucking wrong. terribly wrong.

your hand flies up to your mouth instinctively at the smell radiating from the bathrooms and the sight of her, hunched over the sink. her knuckles are white with strain, pressed against the countertop where her bag sits against the wall.

she looks rough.

her eyes meet yours through the mirror, lips curling up in a half grimace — half smirk.

“i saw you.” her voice is raspy and broken, carrying the weight of all her emotions.

“i should hope so,” you shoot back, letting yourself slump against the wall, arms crossed over your chest. you feel exposed now, more than in that room full of strangers you don’t know.

yet you still feel at ease, somewhat.

jinx clicks her tongue, licking over her teeth before turning to lounge against the sink, body now turned to yours.

“you’re hard to miss dancing up her like that.” you can taste the bile that spits from her mouth with those words, and you outwardly flinch, nodding away like you understand her point.

because you do.

why were you dancing up her ex like you didn’t have a girlfriend waiting at home for you? sure, a negligent one but still a girlfriend. you’re no better than her for what you did.

you’re not sure if its the twenty odd cups of coke you had (stomach issues) or the stuffy air that seems to clog your lungs — but you feel the bile rise in your own mouth. you want to scream, you want to cry.

you want to hold her, tell her how sorry you are. you want to feel her on you, you want to hit her, scream in her face for how she’d made you felt.

“i miss you,” you tremble. your voice is small, just enough to be heard by the two of you and the two of you alone. “i really miss you.”

you don’t meet her eyes, gaze drawn to the mismatched tiling on the floor by your feet. you kick at the grime gathering there, finding particular interest in a small stone amongst the sound of her breathing and your own heartbeat in your ears. you could die right now.

“prove it.” her voice, low and raspy, cracks through the otherwise monotonous space. the air shifts, and you finally peer up behind your lashes to meet her gaze.

she’s got a sultry look about her, studs on her leather jacket glinting under the mustard yellow of the buzzing light from above. it bathes her in the ugliest colour, yet she’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you miss her.

you miss her, you tell yourself as you take a shaky step off of the wall.

you miss her, you justify as you crash into her body, arms slung around her shoulders as she smashes her lips to yours.

the slide of her hot mouth against yours is wet and sloppy, everything you’ve ever known with jinx. it feels comforting, like a bandaid soothed over a blister that’d been bugging you for days. her kisses have always been sloppy, but never like this. she seems to drown you, drown you in her love as she guides you against the sink, turning to cage you against it instead.

“i missed you,” you whisper between soft flicks of her tongue, taking it between your lips to suckle gently. she lets out a shaky sigh, slicking her bangs back with a trembling hand to reveal her sweaty forehead. she lets out a breathless snicker, brows drawing at the revelation like it’d hurt her.

her hands slide lower, lower till they find your hips, they roll forward to meet yours, rutting awkwardly, denim against your panties from where she’d hiked up your skirt.

you feel high, higher than you’d ever felt, higher than any drug could make you feel. a hand comes up to weave through your hair, the other leaving your hip to cup at the gap between the two of you. you jolt in her grasp, gasping out into her purple lips as she twists her head further into yours.

“i’ll take care of you,” she promises between sharp smacks of her lips, fingers drawing up and down your slit.

your legs tremble, ankles locking over the small of her back to bring her impossibly closer. you want to feel your nerves connect, you want to feel what she feels; know what makes her sad, happy, angry. you want to know what she enjoys and what she hates — you want to feel her on you.

“i want—“ your bottom lip wobbles, sucking in between your teeth when she teases at your entrance with a finger, now wrist deep in your underwear. “i want to feel you,”

something prods.

“you feel me yet?” she jeers with a sultry grin, watching as your eyes squeeze shut at the sudden invasion. you’re soaked enough to where it isn’t painful, but the stretch of her fingers is certainly something that always takes you by surprise.

your legs tremble at every thrust of her long fingers. they massage your walls in all the right ways, stroking down as they hit just that right spot — the one that gets you worked up and sweaty against her. your stale breaths ping pong between the two of you, and you’d find it disgusting how close you were had it been anyone else.

it will never be anyone else.

there’s only room for jinx— jinx jinx jinx jinx.

she’s all you can think of as you moan like some cheap whore, legs curling impossibly further, nudging her further and further into your space. her usually pale face is a hot pink, sweat dribbling down the side of her head in exertion. her fingers are coated in your slick, engulfed by your hot cunt that soaks up any ounce of dignity she swore she had left.

“you’re not seeing her again,” jinx grits her teeth, brows coming down over her eyes like the thought alone pushes her to the edge. “not after this.”

you nod, saying something instinctively under your breath in response to her nonsense babbling. she places a particularly harsh thrust that has your back straightening at attention, and her thumb meets your swollen clit.

“you hear me?” she pokes. “i’m all you need, you don’t need anything else. especially from some common whore like lux — what were you thinking?”

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, bringing a trembling hand up to cup her face. she meets your lips with her own with equal fervour, fingers pumping at an unstable pace. you feel that pit in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter, matching the rhythm of her thumb on your clit.

“ohhh, you’re sorry now?” she snickers, breaking from the kiss abruptly. her voice alone could get you off. “if you’re so sorry you’d come for me, wouldn’t you?”

“i want it—“ you gasp, meeting her hand with a sharp buck of your hips. you feel disgusting getting off in the club bathrooms, and it’s now that you’re on the brink of an orgasm you become hyper-aware of the space you’re in.

the blaring music thumping the walls, the dingy, musky smell coming from the bathrooms, the busted light trilling above the two of you. the indistinct chatter of other people outside.

you could get caught.

the thought does wonders, and your back arches, frame twitching further onto her fingers as you finally unravel. jinx lets out a sharp snicker, biting on her bottom lip as your nails dig into her back, cheek mushing into the leather on her shoulder. you sound like a straight up pornstar, something you should be ashamed of.

that would be if it wasn’t for her.

“i want you,” you finally conclude, legs dropping to her sides. your breath heaves, chest rising and falling at an uneven pace.

you wonder where lux is right now, if she’s looking for you — if anyone is looking for you, really. you doubt the sentiment. it doesn’t matter after all, all you need is jinx.

she withdraws her hand from your panties, fingers glistening with your slick, before she brings it to her mouth to engulf them between her lips. she closes her eyes, like blissed out on the taste before slowly withdrawing them, letting them release with a pop for emphasis.

“you’ve got me.”

A.N sorry this is bad, i’ve been pretty demotivated but i just rlly wanted to get this out. hehe doomed yuri

[minoouz]

Love, Unexpected ᜊ ‎ ── ‎ ( 심재윤 )

Pairing :: Jock!Sim Jaeyun x Shy!reader

𝐈 . Genre :: High school au

𝐈𝐈 . Word count :: 6k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 :: fluff, angst towards the end

Now, playing ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Out of Time ( The Weekend )

A/n :: made this for valentines day sorry yall are getting angst and fluff on valentines Day, but yeah, happy valentines Day, you all!!

Valentine’s Day had always been just another day for you.

While the rest of the school buzzed with excitement—couples exchanging gifts, confessions happening left and right, girls giggling as they delivered chocolates to their crushes—you stayed in your usual quiet corner of the library, watching from the sidelines.

You never expected to be a part of the chaos.

And you definitely never expected Jake Sim to sit next to you at lunch, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

"Hey, shy girl."

Your head snapped up, nearly choking on your drink. "W-What?"

Jake chuckled, resting his chin on his palm as he studied you. “Relax, I don’t bite. Just wanted to ask—did you get any valentines today?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “…No. Why?”

His smirk faltered for a brief second. “Really? Not even a secret admirer?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think anyone would—”

"Wrong."

Before you could process what was happening, Jake reached into his bag and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box with a red ribbon. Your name was written on a tiny heart-shaped tag—in his handwriting.

Your breath hitched. "This… is for me?"

"Obviously." He grinned, pushing it toward you. "Go on, open it."

With shaky fingers, you untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a delicate charm bracelet—a thin silver chain with a small heart and a football charm attached. Simple, but beautiful.

Your chest tightened. “Jake… why?”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I like you.”

Your head snapped up, heart pounding. “What?”

Jake sighed, his usual confidence faltering. “Look, I know what people say about me. And yeah, maybe I used to mess around, but… I’ve never actually put effort into Valentine’s Day before.” His gaze softened. “You’re different, okay? I like you, and I want to do this right.”

Your mind raced. This had to be some kind of joke, right? There was no way Jake Sim, the biggest flirt in school, actually liked you.

Your silence must have worried him because he quickly added, “I’m not playing with you, I swear.”

You swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t get it. Why me?”

Jake let out a small, almost shy laugh. “Because you’re the only girl who doesn’t throw herself at me. You’re kind, smart, and way too cute for your own good.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “I notice you more than you think.”

Your heart clenched. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But a small voice in your head whispered doubts.

Would he get bored of you like he did with the others?

“Jake…” you started hesitantly, gripping the edge of the table. “What if I’m just another phase for you?”

His expression darkened, hurt flashing in his eyes. “You’re not.”

“You say that now, but what if you change your mind in a few weeks? I don’t—” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want to be another girl you forget about.”

Jake’s jaw tightened. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?”

His hands clenched into fists on the table. “Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” His voice was firm, desperate. “I know I have a shitty reputation, but I swear to you, this isn’t some game. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your throat tightened. The sincerity in his voice, the way his usual cocky demeanor had crumbled, made you want to believe him.

“…What if I say yes?” you whispered.

His gaze softened. “Then I’ll prove to you every single day that you made the right choice.”

A long silence stretched between you, the sounds of the bustling cafeteria fading into the background.

Then, finally, you nodded. “O-Okay.”

Jake blinked. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across his face—one that wasn’t cocky or teasing, just purely happy.

"Best. Valentine’s. Day. Ever."

And just like that, the school’s biggest playboy wasn’t a playboy anymore. Because for the first time, he had something real to fight for—you.

Dating Jake was nothing like you expected.

At first, it was overwhelming. People stared. Whispers followed you wherever you went. Girls sent you dirty looks in the hallways, some even going as far as asking what made you so special.

Jake, of course, didn’t care.

If anything, he loved showing you off—holding your hand in the halls, walking you to class, throwing an arm around your shoulders at lunch. He was sweet, attentive, and surprisingly patient.

And slowly, you started to believe him.

You let yourself fall.

You let yourself believe in the late-night phone calls, in the way he remembered the little things about you—how you took your coffee, your favorite songs, the way you hated the sound of pencils scratching against paper.

You let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you were different.

Until you weren’t.

It started with a shift.

Jake stopped texting first. Stopped calling. Stopped waiting for you at your locker.

He was still there, but not in the way he used to be. His kisses felt rushed, his mind elsewhere.

And then, the rumors started.

"Did you hear? Jake’s been hanging out with Mia again."

Mia. His ex. The one girl people swore he actually loved.

You didn’t want to believe it. You refused to. But then you saw them—standing in the parking lot, his arm slung around her shoulders, her hand resting on his chest like it belonged there.

Your heart cracked, but you still held on.

Until he gave you no choice.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

You knew those words. Knew what came next.

Still, you forced a smile. "Okay."

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

"I just… I don’t think this is working anymore."

Your fingers curled into fists. "Is it because of her?"

Jake flinched. "It’s not—"

"Don’t lie to me."

A long silence stretched between you before he exhaled, defeated. "I’m sorry."

That was all it took for your world to shatter.

You didn’t cry—not in front of him. You refused to. Instead, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Okay."

Jake’s eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe. Regret. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Because for the first time since meeting him, you finally understood.

You were never different.

You were just another girl he got bored of.

And that hurt more than anything.

[adhdduckie]

candy grams. g.w. x reader

my masterlist

music choice; dandelions by ruth b

word count: 2.7 k

pt 2 soon

synopsis;

you've been in love with george for almost as long as you've known him.

that makes 6 years. and for the last 5, you've been in love with him.

valentines' day is around the corner. and you think it's a great idea to send him a candy gram anonymously. a/n - no valentines this year so i thought id finally lock in and give some of yall a treat! hope u enjoy + pls interact!

George Weasley is one of your favourite people ever. He's sweet, funny and kind when he wants to be. So, many girls you know have a crush on him. So do you. It's kind of a pain, most of the time. He's your best friend, you're so integrated into his family, the burrow is your second home. Molly loves you, and so does the rest of the family.

George and Fred are both large parts of your daily life. You're one of the only people who are able to tell them apart. They look exactly the same, but you're able to tell a difference. You're not even entirely sure how you know, but you just know.

Classes with the two are entertaining, you sitting between the two on a bench, stifled giggles can be heard throughout the classroom, and are a constant in every class you have with the twins. You're closest with George, having become friends in first year when you were placed next to him in potions after snape had enough of the twins sitting together.

Although it wasn't till second year before you realised you cared about george beyond a friend should. A constant figure in your mind, and a constant figure in your life, he invaded every moment of your life.

it wasn't like he did it on purpose. he was just everywhere you turned. In the hallways, laughing with fred while they made fun of Ron, next to you in classes, sitting across from you in the great hall at feeding times, and during the holidays when he'd send you constant letters on updates of things he and his brother made in their room. You were invited over a lot, but obviously you had to spend some time with your family before you went over to the burrow.

You had lived with these feelings for years, not many knew. Fred didn't, so George didn't. Hermione seemed to be the only one that knew, and it was only because of her intelligence was she able to figure out. 5th year was honestly the worst. Your O.W.Ls were coming around, and you had the stupid pink toad umbridge for a teacher. she was a pain in the ass, constantly punishing students for practically no reason.

Because McGonagall understood how everyone was in low spirits, she introduced the muggle idea of candy grams. There were some students who found them stupid since they derived from muggles, but you wanted to try it. So, on the fourteenth of february, you bought one. Sent it to George. left it anonymous, because you just wanted him to know someone out there liked him.

you regretted sending that damn candy gram not even 20 minutes later, the moment he came bounding into the common room with a pesky grin on his face, yelling out your name.

"what?" you said as you looked up from your book.

he shoved the paper under your nose, effectively poking you in the eyes with the corner of the paper. "look! someone sent me a candy gram." he grinned at you.

"congrats?" you say, trying to keep your cool, hoping that he couldn't tell that you were the one that wrote it. You didn't want to lose his friendship. It really meant too much to you, and you'd probably rather die than lose him.

"do you not get the significance of this moment?" he clutched his chest dramatically.

"i refuse to believe someone actually has a crush on you. You're such a menace to society." you tell him, rolling your eyes, trying to keep yourself together and not end up screaming and running away.

There's a knowing glint in his eyes that you don't seem to notice, but he doesn't respond or comment on anything. He shoves the note under your nose again, forcing you to read it.

"Dearest George,

I hope this note finds you well. I couldn't keep these feelings hidden any longer, but I must remain anonymous for now. Over the years, I've cherished our friendship more than words can express. But it's evolved into something deeper, something I can't deny.

You've become the light of my life, and I can't help but feel a love that goes beyond friendship. If one day, you discover who I am and feel the same way, I'll be waiting, ready to take a chance for us.

Until then, I remain in secrecy.

sincerely and with love,

a secret admirer"

he reads out by heart, as if he's memorised the entire thing already. you gape at him, not knowing what you're actually supposed to say right now. nothing has prepared you for this moment.

"well?" he demands, plopping his weight down on the cushion next to you.

"well what?" you ask him, slightly flushed from having a love note you've written read out to you by the person you like.

"what do you think? who do you think it is?" he questions you, bombarding you with several questions when you're still trying to process what possessed you to send him the candy gram in the first place.

"man, i don't know." you tell him, shrugging, turning back to your book, trying to move the topic on.

"oh come on y/n! help me out here! I'm your best friend..." he whines, dropping his head in your lap. It's a common habit of his, invading your personal space, but let's be honest, you don't mind in the slightest.

"what do you want me to do?" you sigh. He always has a way of making you crumble. He beams instantly, Sitting upright again, almost head butting you and giving you a lovely little concussion.

"help me find out who it is!" he responds with a cheeky grin.

"why, george? are you going to make fun of them or something?" you sigh tiredly, really wanting him to give up on this, but you know how he is. once he starts, it's hard to get him to stop.

"because, what if she's hot?" he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you can't help but crack a smile at his simplicity.

"just because she might be hot? What if she's super ugly? What will you do then?" You tease him, but you do want to know what he's going to do when he finds out it was you, and crushes his hopes of it being Angelina Johnson.

"I know she's pretty." he responds in retaliation.

"how do you know?" you challenge, raising your eyebrow at him as you question your own sanity for liking someone like him.

"It's a gut feeling." he shrugs his shoulders, before standing up from the couch, offering you his hand to pull you up. you set your book down with a sad sigh, accepting his hand as he pulls you up. His hand envelops yours easily, as if they fit together, and his hands are a nice kind of warm, warm enough to make you feel happy, but not warm enough to make you clammy and sweaty. the perfect balance.

he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for, and he pulls you up easily, till you're standing almost chest to chest, well more like head to chest, since he's so much taller than you. If you looked up at him, you would be close enough to kiss. His smell envelopes you, a rich smell of freshly upturned grass and the smell of smoke and a Christmas fire.

you clear your throat abruptly, and the pair of you spring apart. you're avoiding eye contact with george, but if you looked at him you would see how the tips of his ears are red enough to match the colour of his hair.

You get a strange look from the other people in the common room, and fred, who's been close enough to hear the entire conversation, grins at what he's just realised.

He lets out a light chuckle, and you turn to look at him, raising your eyebrow. He shrugs and grins. George's deliberately avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you. Fred laughs louder, to the point where he needs to lean on the edge of a couch to prevent himself from falling over.

George pauses, looks at you, before he grins. "You can start helping me tomorrow." He says, before bouncing away, out of the portrait hole. Fred laughs even louder. You turn to him again, before frowning.

"what?" you ask him. It sets him off again, he only stops laughing when he starts coughing.

Fred holds up his finger, and you wait till he regains his composure. He takes another look at you before it sets him off again. You groan.

"I think i know who sent my dear brother the candy gram." He says, wiping a tear away from his eye with his index.

"oh yeah? who?" you ask. Your heart's thumping in your ears, but you're trying your best to seem calm and collected.

a smile stretches across his face, and he looks like he's planning something. "oh, my dear y/n. I do indeed. It seems the girl and i are quite close." he purrs, pulling you close into a hug. You sigh, wrapping your arms around fred.

"please don't tell him." you whisper, hiding your face into his chest. he smiles. He's viewed you as a little sister since the beginning, and he's glad you feel the same way for his brother as his brother does for you.

"i wouldn't dream of it. Unless.....?" he starts, but drifts off, not finishing the sentence.

"fred!" you whine, irritated.

"okay, okay." he laughs, pulling back from the hug, resting his hands on your shoulder, staring deep into your eyes. suddenly he goes serious, the smile dropping off his face quick.

"but seriously. If you never tell him, i'll do it eventually. You can't stay secret admirer forever, and i'm most likely going to die of frustration just watching you two." He finishes. Stepping back, plopping down onto the couch

"i shouldn't have done it fred! i don't know what i was thinking." you groan, hiding your face in his shoulder, plopping down next to him.

"well i think it was a good idea." fred says, throwing an arm carelessly across your shoulder. you groan in response, closing your eyes with a sigh.

the next couple of days are strange, to say the least. George actively seeks you out more than usual, the only topic he speaks of is his secret admirer. It's quite strange, having the object of your affections constantly speak of a romantic gesture you made toward them without them knowing. It's nice, but quite scary, to say the least.

there's the constant fear of being discovered, and when discovered, you're afraid that george is going to be disappointed that you were the one that sent it to him and not Angelina Johnson.

but whatever, you need to act as inconspicuous as possible, right? fred certainly isn't helping, constantly giggling to himself whenever the topic is brought up, while george flashes him a questioning side eye.

one day after potions lesson during lunch, you and george remain behind in the classrooms, cleaning up as a form of punishment from professor snape.

you're kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a spill from some third years. without magic. if it wasn't obvious that snape hated you beforehand, it is now.

you don't even remember what exactly it was that you did, but here you are anyway. george, who somehow got the easier task, is just sitting on a chair as he scrubs at some of the tables in the room.

"this is all your fault, george." you blame, rubbing at the persistent stain on the floor.

"how? you were the one giggling too loudly." george throws back at you. very maturely, you throw the rag you're using at his face. he blocks it, instead of hitting his face, it hits his arm with a wet 'thwump'.

'hey!" he complains at you, throwing it back at you. you duck out of the way, and it hits the wall behind you with another wet sound.

you turn to stare at where it went, and you look back at him, before you burst out into giggles together.

suddenly, you hear the sounds of footsteps, and knowing snape, you stumble to get the rag and go back the stain, rubbing at it with the best of your ability.

you hear the sound of the door groaning on its hinges as it slams open, revealing a disgruntled and angry prof snape.

“i thought. i heard laughter.” he drawls in his cold and distatched tone, the corner of his mouth turning down in distaste.

“no, professor. we wouldn’t dare. Perhaps it was Peeves running through.” you answer, in your best imitation of a innocent student, and professor turns his eyes onto you, glaring at you with distaste.

“i’d hope not. if i hear another peep out of you both, it’s 50 points from gryffindor. each.” he teels you, before swishing around in his ridiculous cape and exiting through the door.

you both turn to each other slowly, before doubling over in silent laughter, clutching your stomach insanely.

once you’ve both managed to contain yourselves, you get back to the work you’re supposed to doing, letting the silence pass between you comfortably.

you hear a little sigh leave george’s mouth, and you turn to look at him, noticing that he’s already looking at you.

“what?” you ask him, raising your brow at him.

he flushes a red that makes his freckles stand out, and you wish so desperately to count them all at some point.

you will manage to do that at some point if you’re lucky..you’ll probably have to disguise it as some kind of friendly activity…

he avoids your eye contact and he sighs, before looking back up at you for a second, before he asks, “are you sure you don’t know who wrote the candy gram?”

your heart stutters in your chest, a little part of you feeling an intense need to run as fast and as far as possible.

“yeah. sorry, george. I promise I asked around.” you so blatantly lie, and he just kind of stares at you, and he doesn’t look impressed at all. you swear his left eye twitches a little.

after a beat of you avoiding as much eye contact with him as possible, by looking somewhere else, anywhere else from him, because he honestly scares you a little and honestly any thing to do with your emotions so obviously displayed is quite terrifying.

another moment passes by you, and you try to turn your attention back to the stain you’re scrubbing at. you begin to stand up, about to go get some more soap to make sure the stain really does get out, when you hear george call your name.

‘….you do realise I can recognise your handwriting, right? we’ve been friends for ages.” he tells you, and your head whips to him so fast, you get whiplash.

“what?” you respond, ever the poet.

“your handwriting. I know you sent me the candy gram.” he mutters, standing up to match you, stalking forwards with his eyes set on you. “why are you lying?” he asks you, stopping right in front of you.

you can’t respond. you’re frozen, mouth wide open as you gape at him. he’s very close to you now, and you feel your heart thumping in your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, walking sideways as he follows you, while you try to face the door to escape.

“i know, for sure, that it was you who sent it to me.” He asserts again, following you, not to closely as to make you uncomfortable, as he is ever the kindest soul you will ever know.

you know that you are not ready to have this conversation right now, so you feign that someone is calling your name, and make a run for it. “oh. is that someone calling me? oh yes it is. Yes I’m coming!”

george tries to stop you, by putting an arm out to block you, but you duck under, sprinting out the door as quick as you can.

you’re swearing as you run, and you hear him call out your name, once, twice and then silence.

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

a/n -> this has been in my drafts for much more than a year so im glad i finally got it out... pt 2 soon!!!

pls pls pls pls interact and comment i love reading comments

[springgirlshowers]

Desktop Struggles

Summary: You think the worker at this internet cafe is cute, a little weird too, you’ve made multiple attempts to get his attention.

CW: kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, biting kink?, overstim, multiple orgasms, smut galore!

WC: 3797

def inspired by this post ! tell me if u can spot my little hints at joosty being a vamp (•ᵥ_ᵥ•)

You didn’t really need to go to this place all this much. You had your own computer at home, and it definitely wasn’t as old as the ones in the cafe.

It wasn’t much of a cafe, you could get coffee. But it was bitter and disgusting. It was either that or water from the dispenser. Which you didn’t trust most of the time either.

You came across it when you had to complete an essay, but your laptop was getting fixed. So you had to stop by the Internet Cafe. Open 24/7. It was nearby and affordable.

But what kept drawing you back to that building was the cute receptionist. Actually. You weren't sure if he was a receptionist. More of a mix of receptionist/janitor/computer engineer. He was a worker. Probably the only one, it was always just him and sometimes the manager there.

Soft and slightly messy blond hair, faint black eyeshadow smudged on his eyes, numbers tattooed on his fingers, other tattoos littered his arms and peeked out from underneath his sleeves.

You knew his name. Joost. You saw it on his jacket. He had his own desk at the back, it was on the elevated part on the floor and next to the office door.

He spent most on the time typing on the keys, a cigarette hanging loose from his lips as he puffed even though there was a no smoking sign right next to him. Sometimes coming down from his desk to pick up trash people left behind.

Or he’d occasionally flip through the magazines he’d get from the metal display rack in the corner, next to the poorly taken care of chinese evergreen plant. He always picked up the medical ones, any that included anything about blood on them.

You figured out different ways to talk to him or get him over to where you were sitting.

You’d purposely mess up things on the computer, disconnecting it from the internet, unplugging the wires in the back of it, claiming that you had no idea how it happened, they must’ve been loose!

Or you’d pretend you didn’t know how to use certain features, hoping he’d teach you. Telling him that working with technology wasn’t your strong suit and other things like:

“Sorry, I can’t figure out how to insert a photo onto this document. Do you know how to?”

“Can you help me with the copier? I think it might be jammed just need to copy a few papers for one of my classes.”

“Could you show me how to print out documents? I need to print out an essay.”

Or asking him how much time you had left to keep using the computer.

Honestly, all these attempts sound quite pathetic. But what could you do? You had a silly crush on a worker at this cafe.

Though there was one incident. After you heard a little bit of arguing coming from behind that office door. You saw Joost come walking out angrily, black trash bag in one gloved hand and a cd in the other.

You watched him bend down and begin to look under the empty desks, scraping the old hardened gum off them. It was a bit funny watching him try to fit under and into the tiny space with how tall he was.

He stopped to look underneath the desk next to yours. You watched as he looked around underneath.

His hair looked so soft, you wanted to run your hands through it, you almost did actually, but you stopped yourself, putting your hand back onto the mouse instead.

You heard him scraping the CD against the wood, but then, you felt his fingers graze the skin of your leg. It was more than a graze honestly, more of him dragging his hand smoothly and slowly down your leg.

Your breath hitched as you felt his touch, his abnormally cold touch. You thanked the heavens you decided to wear shorts that day.

“Sorry, lost balance for a moment.” He said once he stood up.

Which was a complete and oblivious lie, especially with that small smile you saw on his lips.

Now it was particularly late tonight. You and a random old guy were the only ones left using the computers. You originally came here to study, but you ended up looking at clothes online and random intriguing articles.

You sighed quietly to yourself, it was late, nearly midnight. You could go back to your apartment, but you knew you’d be doing the same thing on your laptop there.

Eventually the man collected his things and left. Now it was only you and Joost in the building.

You opened up another tab and went into your documents, trying to figure out what you could mess up or play dumb about this time.

You decided to make a mock resume, you didn’t have the effort nor the energy to go through the process of making one tonight.

Then your next step was disconnecting the printer from that computer and disconnecting the internet, again.

You eyed Joost throughout your process, he was flipping through another magazine with a cigarette that was nearly a stub in between his lips.

You let out a dramatic scoff of disappointment as you slumped back in your chair to get his attention. It worked. Joost looked over with furrowed brows.

“Oh, sorry. I’m trying to print out a resume and the wifi disconnected so now I can’t connect to the printer either.” You shrugged and let your hands fall back onto the desk, a little frown on your lips.

Joost let out a small breath before crushing his cigarette into the overfilled ashtray before getting up and coming over. You had to hold back your smile.

He leant over behind you, he’d never done this before. Usually when he was helping someone, he’d just stand to the side and tell them what to click and what to type.

This time, he had his left hand splayed out on one side of the desk, his right doing the same. He had you caged in with his long arms, his face next to yours.

You tried to not let your breath stagger. But failed due to his next move.

He moved his hand onto the mouse, you’d hadn’t moved your house off the mouse yet. You couldn’t move it now. He moved the cursor around and clicked. Acting as if your hand wasn’t even under his at all.

“Even the old ladies here don’t have as many as issues as you do with the computers here.” Joost scoffed out a laugh, his other hand moving to type.

“I guess I just keep choosing the bad computers.” You joked, trying to mask your nervousness.

“Yeah. I guess you just keep thinking you can get away with disconnecting the internet on them too.” He said blankly, your eyes widened. He stopped typing and stopped moving around the mouse.

“You do realize I’m not that oblivious right? I know you’ve been doing this on purpose.” You saw him turn his face to you in your peripheral vision. You kept staring straight, too scared to meet his eyes.

“Come on, liefje. If you wanted my attention to me you could’ve just came up to my desk. You can’t keep messing up the computers, we worked hard to get these, you know?” He was scolding you, yet his tone of voice was soft. It almost sounded like he was trying to reassure you, comfort you.

“I can help you with other things instead of computers. You should’ve just told me what you wanted. A conversation, a smoke, a kiss?” There was no way he said that. He had to be joking.

You tried not to give any physical reaction to his last suggestion, but yet your body betrayed you with the smallest movement. Your eyes flickered down to his lips. Joost grinned.

“All you had to do was ask.” He teased, he brought his face closer, seeing if you’d take the leap of faith and move first. You did.

Your lips eloped around each other, you opened your mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to slip in. Continuing to kiss, you carefully stood up, shoving the chair away with your foot as you tangled your hands into his hair.

His hands moved to your waist, causing your shirt to rise slightly as he moved you back a bit to where the top of your thighs were pressing against the desk. You took one hand out of his hair to push the keyboard behind you, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

It was embarrassing how quickly he was able to wipe away your bravery and get you flustered instead.

Joost pulled away, eyeing your body up and down. Without warning, he went for your neck. His lips kissing it all over, leaving trails of red spots all over the skin.

Then he pulled away. Stepping back. There was a long moment of confusion and embarrassment as he walked away, then relief as you watched him turn the light up sign that said ‘Open’ off, flip the sign on the door to the side that said ‘Closed! Be back soon!’ and drop the cheap white plastic blinds to cover the glass windows and locked door.

In seconds, his lips were back on you, his hands roaming madly all over your body. They cupped then squeezed your tits roughly, he smiled against your skin when he heard your breath hitch.

At one point he must’ve of taken his fingerless gloves off. You felt the skin of his palms once his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, rubbing up and down on the smooth skin of your stomach. Waisting no time, he pulled your shirt up and off your body.

“Eager, are we?” You giggled at his rushed movements to unclip your bra next.

“You’ve been giving me those eyes for months.” He said through a breathy chuckle, he was right. You had been giving him fuck-me-eyes since you first saw him, he was pent up, and couldn’t wait any longer.

His large hands grasped your breasts again, he kissed all along your chest, soon taking one nipple in his mouth. Teasing it with his tongue and sucking on it as his hand squeezed the other.

His hand and mouth swapped places, giving your other boob the same treatment. His kisses trailed down and stopped just above the waistband of your sweatpants. You kicked off your shoes, knowing what was next to come. He quickly pulled down your pants, the urgency making you giggle.

You spread your legs farther apart, he pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt. It was oddly….romantic.

He peppered kisses along your thighs as his fingers hooked around your panties, removing them as well. He hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you down but giving you enough space where you lay back on your elbows on the desk.

He trailed kisses along your thighs, occasionally nipping and biting them before finally bringing his attention to your pussy.

“Cute.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t even give you any time to think of what he meant before he dove in and worked his tongue like a madman. His tongue sloppily lapping at your opening as his nose brushed against your clit.

One hand tangled into his hair in response, your nails scratching his scalp. He moaned into your cunt at the feeling, the vibration of his noise adding more to the pleasure.

Your other hand had a white knuckle grasp on the edge of the desk. His mouth was bullying your bud, then his hands pressed against your thighs to prevent you trying to close them.

Worse, he gripped onto the back of your knees, pushing them up to where you could sit the heels on your feet onto the desk edge.

This new position felt lethal, the feeling making you let out a silent scream as your face contort as you mumbled out ‘Oh God’ multiple times.

He only dove deeper, mouth moving to suck on your cunt. You rolled your hips against his face and your hand gripped tighter at his hair as you came. Your head lolled back as you rode through your orgasm. You expected him to stop, to break away from you. But he continued.

He kept lapping at your cunt, his dick painfully hard against his pants due to the pathetic noises you were making. Your legs were already sore from tensing your muscles so much, already a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

You whined and whimpered and squirmed, trying to close your thighs and push his head away. But nothing could stop him, he was on a fucking roll, drunk off your juices.

In an attempt to get your hand a more stable spot on the desk, you moved it back, accidentally your hand went onto the keyboard behind. The old plastic board slipping and hitting into the neck of the blocky computer. No damage was done, just a bit of a shock to both of you.

“Shit! Sorry!” You giggled nervously, embarrassed at your accident. Joost pulled back and let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

Honestly, he was already running out of air, but he had to get that second orgasm out of you. So, he got off his knees, moved his mouth to your tits, and his hand to your cunt.

He rubbed two fingers against your slick before easily slipping them inside you, immediately curling and moving at a quick pace. Your body trembled.

You were already so sensitive, already so close. You wrapped your arm around his neck. He chuckled at you hanging onto him, your nails dug into his shoulder while you tilted and laid on your own upper arm as you mewled and whined.

His eyes never left yours as your jaw hung open and you cried out. Your other hand grabbed onto his wrist as you came undone for the second time.

“Ohhh I know, I know.” He cooed, resting his forehead against your temple, slowing down the movements of his fingers, and whispering praises to you and peppering soft kisses to your cheek and the side of your lips, soon moving your head to kiss you properly.

His movements came to a stop and he pulled his tattooed fingers from you, kissing you firmly but slowly.

“Was that too much? You okay?” He said after breaking away, pressing his forehead to yours.

“No. I’m okay.” You gave him a breathy weak laugh, your eyelids droopy as you stared at him. “We can keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Please, I wanna keep going.” You begged. Joost only smiled before giving you another long passionate kiss before stepping back, taking off his tan jacket, and grabbing you by the hips to turn you around.

You giggled as he pressed a hand to your back, pushing your front to lay on top of the table. The noise of his belt unclipping and hitting the floor along with his pants added 10x more excitement flowing through your veins.

He teased the tip of his cock inside you, then he pulled out. Then he did it a few more times before showing you mercy, rubbing his cock in between your folds before finally sinking into your cunt.

You whined at the stretching sensation. Joost smoothed his hand over the side of your stomach, whispering little encouragements and praises.

“You’re doing perfect, schatje. I know you can take me.” He leaned down to press small pecks to your back.

He gave you a moment to get used to the stretch of him inside you, you nodded as your signal for him to go ahead.

His thrusts started off slow and pulling out slightly, gentle. Then he would pull out all the way and go all the way back in, giving slow deep strokes.

He stopped, then immediately began to thrust into you at a high pace. It caught you off guard and made you arch your back as you cried out.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and whimpers, and Joosts breathy groans.

Your hips were hitting into the wooden sides of the desk. You let out a small noise of discomfort at one point and Joost noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, his brows furrowing in concern, his pace slowed a bit.

“Mhm. Please don’t stop, don’t- please!” You cried out, your moans were getting much louder now. Your voice nearly echoing throughout the room, embarrassingly. This caused Joost to clamp his cold hand over your mouth and shushed you.

He pulled you up, your back against his chest as he continued to thrust into you, you let out a loud whine against his hand.

“Shhh, you can’t be too loud, liefje. We don’t want anyone outside hearing and knowing what’s going on in here, right?” He turned your head back slightly so you could see him.

You whined into his hand and nodded. Your moans were muffled by his hand, but still loud enough to drive him fucking crazy.

This angle of his cock hitting inside you was overpowering, you lifted your hand up to grab onto his forearm

“Aw schatje, you gonna cum?” He cooed, not even bothering to try and fight back the toothy grin on his face.

You scrunched your eyes shut, nodding frantically and whining.

As you clenched around him and cried out against his hand, he dug his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to pierce the skin, but a perfect amount of pressure where it was pleasing.

His thrusts slowed and came to a stop once you began to jerk and twitch. He took his hand off your mouth, moving to the center of your chest as his other was wrapped around your waist. Pressing small kisses to the side of your face and neck, occasionally nipping at it.

Surely you would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for his large hands keeping you pressed against him. Your breath hitched repeatedly and your thighs were shaking against him as he kept himself buried inside you.

Carefully, he helped you lean back down, you kept yourself up using your tired arms.

Without warning, he began to pound into you again, and you began to moan and sob out loudly in pleasure.

His hand was quick to cover your mouth again, you could hear him chuckle behind you.

“Fuck, just a bit longer, liefje. You can hold on for a bit longer, yeah?”

“Mmph, mhm!” You nodded, his hand still covering your mouth. He chose to be evil as his other hand moved to your clit, two fingers rubbing quick circles. You let out an embarrassing squeal.

“Think you can give me one more while you wait?” You didn’t even have to try and give him your answer, you cried out into his hand as you hit your fourth and final orgasm of the night,

At this point, his hand was the only thing keeping your head up. Your lips were smushed against his palm and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. Your arms were barely enough to keep yourself up.

You were putty in his hands, moaning mindlessly. It was beautiful.

He kept his hand on your mouth while he moved his other from your clit to hold onto your waist, holding onto so tight there’d be marks by morning. He was pulling you back as he thrusted into you.

His movements soon became sloppier and he removed his hand from your mouth so he could grasp onto your waist with both hands.

You clumsily let yourself lay onto the desk, hands tightening into fists, your nails digging into your palms.

Your loud mindless moans and walls squeezing around him pushed him over the edge.

He spilt inside you with an exasperated groan and a few harsh deep thrusts. Giving you one last hard thrust after he finished. Just to get a small yelp out of you. Bastard.

He pressed kisses to your back as you rested the side of your face against the table, laying himself against you but not putting all his weight on top of you. Your body was trembling against him as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck. Still okay?” He checked again after bringing his head up, looking at you sweetly as he smoothed back damp strands of hair away from your face.

“Absolutely. Are you okay?”

“Of course. A bit sweaty, but I feel amazing.” He scoffed playfully.

“I don’t understand how you’re still so cold though. I feel like I’ve been in a sauna.” You laughed, picking your head up.

“I don’t understand either. I’m always cold for some reason.” He lied. He knew the reason.

“You might have an iron deficiency, you should get that checked out.” You joked, a lazy grin on your face.

“Probably should.” He grinned back before leaning back up, pulling out slowly and apologizing quietly when he heard you wince.

You pushed yourself up using your hands, stabilizing yourself for a second then grabbing your shirt and bra that both had landed onto the privacy wall next to the computer.

By the time you turned around, Joost already had one glove back on (the hand that didn’t finger you), put back on his pants and tan jacket. He was holding your sweatpants and underwear.

Jesus Christ, he moved fast.

“Sit down, you’re too shaky. Let me help.” He suggested, you leaned back against the desk again.

He bent down, holding your ankle softly to help you step into your panties, sliding them up and doing the same with your sweatpants. And he put your shoes back on for you.

It was silly watching him be so gentle despite that a moment ago he was just pounding into you so hard that the entire row of computers were shaking.

He stood up and tucked away a few stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder lazily, his hands moved to your waist, thumbs rubbing over the fabric. The gears were turning in his head, he was hesitant to speak.

“So…you’ll be back tomorrow? Cause- I mean- I don’t mind that you stay longer than most customers. I really don’t mind at all.” He nervously shrugged, looking away from your eyes and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He was flustered. Cute.

“Maybe, will I get a discount?” You teased, tilting your head at him. Giving him a dramatic pout for extra measure.

“I’ll think about it.” He narrowed his eyes playfully and bit back a smile. It was definitely a yes.

[saebyeokbliss]

JUST MEET ME AT THE APT.— K. SAE-BYEOK

CHAPTER NINE

synopsis: managing a rising rock band is already chaotic enough, but when you're stuck touring with four reckless musicians, things get even messier. between late-night facetime calls, teasing that feels a little too knowing, and a certain guitarist who might just be your biggest problem, keeping things professional is getting harder by the second. but hey, no one said the music industry was easy.

warnings: mutual pining, intense eye contact, teasing that borders on flirting (or maybe it is flirting), friends who refuse to mind their business, secondhand embarrassment, slow burn that burns, emotional whiplash, online scandals

playlist: spotify

It started with a tweet.

A blurry, low-quality video posted by some fan who had managed to sneak backstage. The caption was cryptic but damning:

"WTF did Jisoo do to make Kang Sae-Byeok this mad???"

And underneath it—

A video of Sae-Byeok pinning Jisoo against the wall.

The audio was grainy, muffled by the distance and the hum of post-show chaos, but some words were crystal-clear.

"I don’t want to see you near her or the girls ever again."

"You don’t get to come in here and make her feel like nothing."

The internet exploded.

At first, there was confusion. Speculation. Wild theories about why HOT DIVISION’s lead guitarist was this close to throwing hands with an influencer-turned-socialite like Jisoo.

Then came the sides.

Some people immediately took Sae-Byeok’s, praising her for standing up for whoever she was talking about. Others rushed to defend Jisoo, twisting the narrative into something uglier—something about how aggressive Sae-Byeok had looked, how scary her temper seemed, how it was unprofessional for an artist of her status to act like that.

And then, of course, the worst theory took hold.

That it was about you.

Screenshots of old photos resurfaced—pictures of you with the band, of you standing next to Sae-Byeok at award shows, of you in the background of HOT DIVISION’s biggest moments. Someone even found a picture from that night, showing you leaving the backstage area just moments before the video took place.

And suddenly, you weren’t just the band’s manager anymore.

You were the reason for the fight.

The narrative twisted: Sae-Byeok was in love with you. Jisoo had done something to you. You were caught in the middle of some messy, behind-the-scenes drama that no one was supposed to know about.

It spiraled fast.

By the next morning, articles were being written. Think pieces dissecting Sae-Byeok’s reputation, questioning her professionalism, debating whether or not HOT DIVISION’s label would make a statement.

And through it all—

You stayed quiet.

Because you knew exactly how this worked.

Scandals like this didn’t just pass. They grew until someone stopped them.

And that someone had to be you.

You found Jisoo before anyone else did.

She had been avoiding the internet, dodging calls, probably waiting for it all to blow over before she made her next move. But you weren’t going to give her that luxury.

You cornered her in the back of a café, where she had been sipping an overpriced latte like her name wasn’t being dragged online.

She barely had time to react before you sat down across from her, fixing her with a look that made it clear you weren’t here to play games.

"Fix it," you said, voice steady.

Jisoo blinked. "Excuse me?"

You leaned forward. "You fix it. You clear it up. You tell everyone exactly what the fuck happened before this gets worse."

She scoffed, setting her cup down. "I don’t owe anyone anything."

Your patience snapped. "Are you serious? You owe Sae-Byeok everything right now. Because you’re sitting here, drinking your stupid fucking latte, while she’s getting torn apart for something that wasn’t even her fault."

Jisoo frowned, finally looking uncomfortable. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen."

"But it did," you said sharply. "And I’m not letting you be the coward who lets her take the fall for it."

A beat of silence.

Jisoo looked away, jaw tightening. "I didn’t think she actually cared that much."

You exhaled through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm. "That’s the problem. You never thought about what you were doing. You never thought about how it made me feel—how it made her feel."

She swallowed. "I just… I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong."

You shook your head. "Exactly."

Jisoo sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Tell the fucking truth," you said. "Make a statement. A video. A post. I don’t care. Just fix it."

She hesitated.

Then, finally, she pulled out her phone.

And for the first time since this entire mess started—

She actually did something right.

Jisoo’s video went up within the hour.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t some grand, emotional apology.

But it was enough.

She admitted that she had been careless, that she hadn’t realized how much she was excluding you, that she had walked into HOT DIVISION’s space without thinking about how it might have made you feel.

And most importantly—

She cleared Sae-Byeok’s name.

She explained that the argument wasn’t about anything romantic, that there was no secret drama or jealousy, that Sae-Byeok had only been angry because she had stood up for you.

The backlash didn’t disappear overnight. But it shifted.

Now, instead of attacking Sae-Byeok, people were applauding her.

And you— You finally let yourself breathe. But the damage had already been done.

And you weren’t sure if things could ever go back to the way they were before.

Dinner was quieter than usual.

Not because there was tension—no, after everything that had happened, the tension had finally cracked, leaving something raw and unspoken between all of you.

The girls had chosen a small restaurant, tucked away from prying eyes and the chaos of the internet, somewhere they could just be without worrying about cameras or fans or another scandal brewing.

And tonight, for the first time in a long time, they weren’t just HOT DIVISION.

They were just friends trying to make things right.

Ji-Yeong was the first to break the silence, setting her chopsticks down. "Alright, let’s just say it."

Se-Mi exhaled. "Yeah, we fucked up."

No-Eul nodded. "Big time."

Sae-Byeok, sitting across from you, was unusually quiet, arms crossed, her gaze flickering between you and the others.

Ji-Yeong leaned forward. "Look, we got caught up in our own shit, and we didn’t notice how much we were leaving you out. That’s on us. Completely on us."

Se-Mi sighed. "We should’ve realized sooner. We should’ve—" She hesitated, then met your eyes. "We should’ve been better friends to you."

You swallowed, feeling the weight of their words, the sincerity behind them.

And then No-Eul, ever direct, said, "We’re sorry."

Your chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from pain.

It was relief.

You let out a small, shaky breath, nodding. "Thank you."

Ji-Yeong gave you a hesitant smile. "Does this mean you forgive us?"

You huffed a quiet laugh. "I mean… yeah. But you guys owe me. Big time."

Se-Mi grinned. "Obviously. We’ll buy you so much coffee to make up for it."

No-Eul smirked. "Or we could just kick Jisoo’s ass next time we see her."

That made you laugh—really laugh, for the first time in days.

And just like that, things started to feel okay again.

After dinner, you stepped outside for some air.

The night was cool, the city lights flickering in the distance, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you actually felt lighter.

But you weren’t alone for long.

No-Eul appeared beside you, hands in her jacket pockets, her usual calm, unreadable expression on her face.

"You doing okay?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

You hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Better than before."

No-Eul tilted her head, studying you in that way she always did—like she could see right through you. "You sure?"

You sighed, leaning against the railing. "I mean… I still feel kinda stupid for letting it get to me so much."

No-Eul frowned. "Why?"

You shrugged. "Because it’s not like they meant to hurt me. And I knew that. But it still—" You exhaled. "It still sucked."

No-Eul was quiet for a moment, then said, "You don’t have to justify feeling hurt."

You glanced at her, surprised.

She met your gaze, something unreadable in her eyes. "You deserved better from us. And you were right to be upset."

The way she said it—so steady, so certain—made warmth bloom in your chest.

You smiled, small but genuine. "Thanks, No-Eul."

She nodded, her gaze lingering on you.

And for a moment—just a moment—something shifted.

The space between you felt smaller.

The air heavier.

Her eyes flickered to your lips, just for a second, and you felt your breath catch.

Was she—?

Were you—?

Before anything could happen, a voice cut through the air.

"Time to go," Sae-Byeok’s voice rang out, firm but unreadable.

You both jolted slightly, stepping back as if the moment had never happened.

When you turned to look at her, Sae-Byeok’s face was blank, but her eyes—her eyes—were sharp, flickering between you and No-Eul with something you couldn’t quite place.

You cleared your throat. "Right. Yeah. Let’s go."

No-Eul didn’t say anything—just shoved her hands back into her pockets and followed after you.

And as you walked ahead, you could feel Sae-Byeok’s gaze lingering on you.

Like she had seen everything.

Like she was thinking about something.

But she didn’t say a word.

Not yet.

taglist: @everly-summers-solace @knfthxv @madebysae @knfthxv @katieschry1 @imlackingsleep @lyzem @stellssxo @wiltingconquest @peelover25@monroesturnns @laurenkens @yenyu1s @idontliketoread2137 @bitchybananaflower @lyuuw

[annoyinglilbro]

Okay so hear me out but…

big brother gets a boyfriend so stops fucking little brother. so little brother gets revenge by fucking middle brother and big brother gets all jealous.

I dunno if this is something really but it could be 🤷 plus middle brother representation makes me happy cause i can never pick if i wanna be big bro or lil bro.

- 🐀 (not sure if i’ll send more asks but i like rats and want u to know when it’s weird middle bro popping up lol)

It’s been a week. His brother hasn’t touched him in a week, no kisses, no hugs, no making him cum. It’s bullshit. All he does is talk about his dumb boyfriend who he’s always with now. It’s not fair. But it’s fine, because he has more than one older brother.

The middle child is so different than his older brother, more closed off and keeps in his room. They don’t have a particularly close bond, but neither did he and his big brother before they started fucking. And he has practice now, he knows how to get what he wants.

His brother is closed off in his room again, the muffled sound of music and a video game sound through the door. Little brother is wearing one of his shirts, too big and hangs off exposing his collar bones, and nothing else. It’s long enough to reach his thighs. He knocks on the door.

There’s shuffling for a few minutes and when his brother pushes open the door he’s met with the sight of his baby brother, sniffling and teary eyed.

“Can I hangout in here please?”

His brother nods, confused and concerned he’s ushers his little brother into the room. They sit on the bed, little brother sniffling and wiping his eyes. His brother is hesistant when he pulls him into a hug.

“Hey little dude, what’s going on? You don’t usually come to me…is bro home?”

“No! He’s never home anymore. He’s always with his boyfriend, he doesn’t wanna hangout with me anymore.”

“Oh dude no, he’s just in a relationship. I’m sure he’ll make time for you soon. You can hangout with me if you want? I know I’m not as cool as him but uh I can turn on two player for us?”

He stares up at his brother through wet lashes, poking out his little pink lip.

“Yeah? That’s so nice of you. Can I sit in your lap while we play?”

His brother eyes him, starring at his thighs.

“Do…do you have underwear on?”

Little brother who grins, laying back in his brothers bed and spreading his legs. His pretty little cunt is on display, wet and glistening. He’s frozen in place, watching his little brother move his fingers between the slick folds and spreading himself open.

“Big brother it hurts. So so much. Won’t you help me? Please?”

His cock is straining in his basket ball shorts. His baby brother has never called him anything other than annoying, he didn’t think being called big brother would have the effect on him. Still, his little brother is begging him to take the ache away and he can’t deny him.

He’s much gentler than their older brother is. He spends time licking and sucking at his little brothers tdick, spends time slowly spreading him open on his fingers and kissing his thighs anytime he whines. Hes sweet, offering words of encouragement and praise. His little brother feeds into the act, whimpering when the stretch is too much and his brothers cock is finally filling him up.

“Unfff s’full, I feel it in my belly big bro!” He whines, tears trailing down from the corners of his eyes and his brother leans down to kiss them away.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you. I’ll go slow okay?”

And he does. He takes his time, moves in slow long motions and plays with his dick while he does. It’s so different from what he’s used to. They’re both so lost in it they don’t even realize somebody else is in the room until they clear their throat.

Their older brother is in the door way, shaking his head and watching them.

“Little fucking slut. Had to go for our brother, huh? You’re pathetic.” He’s walking over the bed now, taking his seat next to his little brothers head. “You’re being way too gentle with the brat. He didn’t need all that prep, you know. Slut like him? He wants it to hurt. Whiney little bitch is buttering you up.”

The second eldest swallows, cock still buried deep inside his little brother, who’s looking up at him with a pout.

“Do you see how mean he is to me? You’re a much better big brother. He’s so mean all the time, he doesn’t stretch me like you do.”

“You two…are fucking?” He’s trying to process it.

“I know buddy, he made you think you were special. Came to you with those teary eyes, didn’t he? It’s okay. You didn’t know our baby brother was a desperate slut.”

Big brothers hands are on him now, he slaps the outside of his thigh making him tighten around his other brothers cock.

“Whore like this doesn’t need you to be nice to him. Hold your fucking legs up for him, you’ve made him do enough, brat.”

Little brother who whines but listens, pulling his legs to his chest and holding them there.

“That’s better. You’re a big brother, you don’t have to do any extra work. He’s lucky he’s got your cock. Now fuck him, make him really cry.”

Middle brother nods, fucking into his little brother rougher than he was before. Watching the way his eyes roll and the loving every little “ah ah ah” that falls out of his lying little mouth.

“Big brotherrr please ahh you’re too deep!”

Middle brother pauses, glancing to his older brother who rolls his eyes and slaps their little brothers face.

“He is being so gentle with you, fucking cry baby. I swear he fakes being hurt for sympathy.”

“Do not!”

“Quiet! Nobody is talking to you.” Big brother who slips his sweatpants down, slapping his heavy cock on his little brothers face and squishing it between his lips. “Ignore him. I fuck him rougher than this. He’s doing it for attention. C’mon bro, he can handle it trust me. Fuck him.”

His brothers cock in their little brothers mouth makes him throb. He didn’t know their little brother could look like this. Didn’t know he could sound like this, feel like this. His big brothers hand trails down the soft stomach and to the pink bundle of nerves, pinching it in his fingers and making him cry out around his cock. He doesn’t struggle to get away, doesn’t fight to get away from them, no he clenches around the cock stuffed inside his hole.

“He really is a slut…” middle brother mumbles more so to himself.

“I know. It was so wrong of him to do this, to try and make me jealous with you. C’mere, I’ll kiss it better for you.” His big brother is leaning over, pressing their lips together while they spear their little brother from both ends. They fuck him in rhythm, lips attached the entire time and when they cum it’s moments after one another. There’s a sweating panting mess when it’s done, covered in sweat and their little brother dripping cum.

Still he looks so proud of himself. Spread out on his brothers bed, smiling like the spoiled brat he is.

“Good job, got your way again. Fucking prick.”

His older brother is pulling them both to his chest, one on each arm. It’s strange to suddenly be so included, but when his brother kisses the top of his head he couldn’t imagine it any other way. Maybe they’ll hang out more often after this.

[magix-winx-club]

God, I want to sleep

Daryl Dixon x Disabled!reader Part 1?

Warnings: Chronic pain, the feeling you cannot go on any longer, Daryl comforting in his own Daryl way, ANGST, ableism

Summary: You are struggling more and more. The pain starts to get unbearable, specifically since you do not have your medication. Daryl finds out and does what he can to help you. 

You were so tired. That is all you could think about. The exhaustion that has settled deep into your bones, making you weary. It was another night of turning and tossing. Every pressure, on your legs, no matter how small like a piece of cloth felt like it was searing your skin. Every night was the same since your meds ran out. Tossing and turning trying to find a position that felt at least somewhat comfortable. Everytime you thought you had found a position that felt good you had to turn a minute later the pressure on your side felt horrible. Sighing you got up, sitting with your head bowed your arms loosely at your side. During the day you made the best of it, smiling and acting as if everything was alright. But in the dark, with no one around you could not pretend anymore. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you slowly got up. Like everything you did it took you just a bit longer. So you stood there staring at nothing, your mind blank, your eyes heavy, before slowly starting to move. You made your way out of your cell. Luckily located at the bottom, not upstairs. You had no idea how you would manage to walk the stairs, not in this condition. Hell, you thought to yourself, if a walker were to come after you, you had no idea how you would react. How to fight it. Everything seemed to slow like you were frozen in time. Maybe your instincts would kick in, the primal need to survive, but you could not be sure. 

You made your way out of the cell block, towards the kitchen. Maybe they had some dirty dishes to wash, something to focus on besides the bone tiredness you felt. 

It felt like ages before you finally pushed open the doors of the Cafeteria. The moonlight provides enough light to see. Even so, you have become accustomed to walking in the dark. You made your way around the serving station into the kitchen. With one glance you saw the tubs usually used to put the dirty dishes in empty. Sighing, you turned around, guess that was not an option. Maybe some laundry needed to be done? 

You did not get very far, sleep deprivation made you woozy, so you plopped down at one of the benches, your arms laying on the table, you had no idea for how long you sat like this. Your eyes staring at nothing before you, your mind not comprehending what was going on around you. 

Daryl made his way towards the kitchen, he had just gotten off Guard duty. Carol had told him she left some granola on the counter for him. He was not all too hungry but it felt good having a full stomach before going to bed. So he did not protest, for now the prison had enough food, even with the many new people. Rounding the corner, he saw the doors to the cafeteria open, normally they looked up everything tight during night, just in case. Daryl lightened his steps, not wanting anyone to hear him coming. Creeping up on the door, he dared a quick glance in it. He had not expected to see you there, sitting on one of the tables, but instantly his shoulders relaxed. 

Straightening up now that there was no danger he made his way into the cafeteria. 

You heard someone approaching but it did not register until he was practically in front of you. You lifted your head and met with Daryl Dixon. You gave him a small smile, or what you thought was one, you could not be sure anymore. Daryl shot you a confused look. Only then did you realize he had asked you a question. “Said w’at you doin’ here?” Looking around you surveyed your surroundings as if for the first time. “I was gonna do some dishes.” You looked at him. “In the middle of the night?” His head tilting sideways, running along your frame. Normally you would feel weird at someone staring at you like that but you could not careless. “You good?” You just hummed, looking past him at nothing. 

Were you good? No. But you also did not want to say anything, that small part of you that faced too many snide comments in your life, from teachers and peers and even your parents, had your tongue tied. What if Daryl rolled his eyes at you? Just another ‘poor little thing’. A cripple with nothing to offer and burdens to give. What if they decide you were not worth the trouble and it would be a mercy for everyone just to get rid of you? 

Of course this was your sleep deprived and most insecure part of you talking but you could not stop. Even before the world ended you knew you were never really part of it. Last one to be picked for any kind of sports team, the friend who had to cancel plans, the girl who spent her free time going to physical therapy, and doctor visits. Who knew more about medical procedure than what a teenage life was like. 

You had spaced out, ignoring Daryl completely, consumed by that pressing feeling in your chest, and the burning of your eyes. 

Daryl had sat down next to you, his crossbow on his right and you on his left. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes. That was Daryl for you, the one to fix things, but no idea how to approach a situation like that. So he gave you room, just sat next to you, not pushing you to talk. 

Finally you looked at him. “Are you okay?” His lips twitched upwards, that was very you, always checking in making sure everyone was okay. “Yeah, just got off Guard Duty, was headin’ here to grab me some Granola.” 

“I can get it for you.” But you made no move to stand up, as if in your mind you had already gotten it from him. He watched how one eyelid closed faster when you blinked. It was concerning to say the least, he knew that you must be more than exhausted if your body was so visibly reacting. Your head kept dropping and he noticed how you were slumped to one side. Unconsciously he scooted closer, just to make sure he could reach you in case you keeled over. “Hey,” he murmured. Lifting his hand to your face he turned your head to him. Once again his gaze was intense, observing every part of you. He was so warm, you could not help but lean into his hand a bit. “I’m okay,” you mumbled again. Your eyes now hardly open. “Ya ain’t,” he roughed out. If there was one thing Daryl hated was bullshitting lies like these. “You look like hell, woman.” There was no need to beat around the bush. If he did not know you he would have thought you were a walker. Hell he still was not entirely sure you were not becoming one right this moment. Taking a deep breath, his other hand gripped you around the waist. “Common,” he almost said sweetheart. “Let’s get you to bed.” He pulled you up. “Can’t be kickin’ no ass tomorrow otherwise.” He tried to joke. But you just leaned on him, your head on his chest. Gods he was just so warm! He pulled you along, the hand that held your face, leaving to grab his crossbow. He slung his trusted friend over his shoulder before, without thinking his hand found its way back to the side of your face. If you were more awake you’d think he was cradling you. You’d think how wonderfully sweet the rough man holding you up was. But you were not, so you just let yourself be guided back towards the cellblock. Once you stepped into the common room, you were close to the handful of stairs that led down to the small area. You tried to hold yourself up, but the pressure of stepping down was too much for your aching and inflamed muscles, and you crumbled. Daryl had a tight grip around you but he did not want to hurt you more. The painted moan you let out enough to make his, even though he would never name it as such, protective instinct kicked in. He lowered you onto the step, almost covering your body with his as if there was some invisible force coming for you. And there was just not one that he could fix with his crossbow or fists. You sat there for a second and finally the dam broke. You choked out a sob. “I am so tired, Daryl, so tired.” He did not quite hold you in a hug but he did hold you up. “Is alri’ht sweethea’t. We gonna get ya to bed, okay?” You laugh-sobbed. Sleeping? Sleeping won’t help this, you thought. Then you began to sob in earnest. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Another sob broke out. “I just don’t.” Now Daryl felt absolutely helpless. His old self would have scoffed at you, called you a brat or weak. But he knew better now and he knew you. You were not soft, or weak, or a brat. You were strong, kind, and selfless. He had no idea what brought this on but he was damn sure he was not gonna lose someone else. “Hey, come on now.” He gently grabbed your face. “We gonna figure this out ‘kay?” He tried to catch your eyes, show you how serious he was but no matter what your eyes were half shut overflowing with tears. Fuck it he thought. He swiftly grabbed you under the arms, heaving you up. Quickly before you could fall again, he maneuvered one of his hands under your knees and the other behind your back. With you in his arms he made his way down the stairs. He almost jumped back in fright when he saw Herhsel standing in the entry to the cellblock, a look of sadness on the older man's face. Normally, no one was able to sneak up on Daryl but he was so focused on you. 

“Get her to bed, I will be right there.” Even though his face conveyed his sadness, Daryl recognized the tone of the old man's voice, it was all business. So he did what he was told. Walking into your cell, he saw your blanket, crumpled and pushed to the side so he easily enough sat you down in your bed. Quickly he covered you with the blanket. As usual when Daryl was nervous he started to chew on his thumb cuticle. 

Herschel came into the cell, a glass of water with him. “Here give her this.” He handed Daryl two pills and the glass of water. You were laying still in your bed, feeling horrible that the exact thing you did not want happened. Daryl nodded before turning to you. “Here girl.” He lifted you slightly, holding the pills to your mouth. You did not protest, just took them and a swallow of water to wash them down. Laying back down you stared at the bottom bunk bed. “Just try and get some sleep.” Daryl did not know what else to say, so when you nodded, he got up and followed Hershel out of your cell. Once again you were back where you started alone in your cell. 

Daryl followed Hershel down to his cell. “What’s wrong with ‘er?” No need to beat around the bush he thought. Hershel exhaled deeply. “Chronic pain in her muscles caused by inflammations.” He simply stated, thinking the same as Daryl, no need to beat around the bush. “She told me once at the farm.” The older man entered his cell, sitting by the small desk, on an old metal chair. “I have to admit, after everything after the farm, I forgot about it.” He rubbed his hands together, contemplating. “She is good at hiding it.” Was all he said. 

Daryl mulled over the words. He had to agree, you were good at hiding it. “She must have run out of medication some time ago,” Hershel went on. “Hard to sleep when your entire body is in pain constantly.” Daryl hummed in agreement. “So, w’at does she need?” Finally, Hershel looked at him. “For now I gave her a painkiller, it will not do too much but paired with a slight sleeping aid she at least should get a couple of hours. But she will need muscle relaxers, maybe even more pain killers, and those are valuable.” He turned to Daryl. “And she knows that, that’s why she did not say anything. But maybe with additional supplements it will help keep the inflammation down.” 

“Alri’ht, what kind?” Hell, Daryl had no idea where he would get any of the shit but he would try. Hershel pulled out paper and pen from his top desk drawer. “For one, the best would be Pregabalin, if I remember correctly that is what she had before, but any muscle relaxer will do.” He shot Daryl a look. “Maggie can go with you, she knows what kind to look out for. Then supplements, any magnesium, amino acids, vitamins.” Daryl watched Hershel write down all kinds of things. Once he was done he handed Daryl the list. “Where do I ‘et some of tha’ stuff?” Hershel thought for a moment. But he was getting old and he had no idea how many places they had raided already. “Let’s get the map.” 

As the two made their way out towards the common room, Rick stepped out of his cell. He took one look at the two men and followed. The next hour the men purred over the map coming up with a plan to get you the stuff you needed. 

Back in your cell, you had no idea what they were doing, not long after you had swallowed the pills you felt yourself drift off.

Should I do a follow up?