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powderpinkprincess · 2 days ago

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Irresponsible [Lando Norris x reader]

description: Lando has an irrational fear of a cab driver kidnapping you once- Or something like that.

Lando usually didn’t mind when you went out without him. You had your own group of friends in Monaco, and as long as your best friend, Sasha was there, Lando didn’t worry much. He really liked her because she was nice and responsible even when she drank, keeping you away from trouble.

What he did mind, however, was you taking a cab home alone. It didn’t matter how safe Monaco was or how many times you had done it before - just the thought of you, possibly even drunk, sitting in the back of a stranger’s car made his stomach twist. What if the driver wasn’t who they seemed? What if something happened, and he wasn’t there? Lando knew it was probably just in his head, but that didn’t make it any easier. It was the one thing he hated about your nights out - waiting for that text saying you were home safe, hoping that nothing had gone wrong.

At least now that Lando finally had a whole week at home, he didn’t have to worry about that, and he could just pick you up himself. Besides training, he still had tons of work to do on his laptop, so he was busy, but he was available.

He didn’t mute his phone when he went to sleep as he usually did, so you could reach him whenever you wanted. However, when you left you noticed how exhausted he looked, so you didn’t want to bother him. At 2 a.m. you were more than ready to leave, and that was when you noticed your credit card was almost empty. You had two credit cards, one to use in your day-to-day life and another one for clubbing.

You didn’t want to wake Lando, but eventually you had to. He was fast asleep when his phone rang. He picked it up half asleep when he saw your number come up. Sitting up, he wiped his eyes and yawned. “Hey babe, is everything okay?”

“Uhm, hi, sorry to wake you up,” you started.

“No, no,” he said, slowly coming to his senses. “It's okay,” he added with a yawn. “What is it, love?”

“Could you maybe send some money to my blue card?” you sighed. Lando knew exactly what you meant as he used the same method when going out. If the card got lost or stolen, it was a much better situation when it was not the majority of your money disappearing.

Lando stifled a sigh as he turned the light on. “Why, did you forget to transfer money again?” he asked while he opened the bank app on his phone. Lando was a bit annoyed at you for being careless with your stuff again, but he sent some money to you anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, noticing the tone of his voice immediately.

“Don’t apologize, just try to pay attention the next time.” He suppressed another yawn. “Are you guys going to stay out?”

“No, I was just about to call a cab,” you explained.

He was silent for a minute, then you could hear the soft ruffling of the sheets as he moved. “Why didn’t you call me before? I would have come to pick you up.”

“Cause you needed rest,” you mumbled. You knew he didn’t like it when you took a cab, so you expected the question.

“Well, I'm up now, so I don't think it matters anyway,” Lando said with a hint of sarcasm. “I would have come to pick you up at any time for you, love, you know that,” he added, trying to sound sincere. He didn't want to pick a fight now that he was awake, but it was a bit of a sensitive spot for him. Lando didn't like that you would just jump into a car with a stranger. He worried about your safety more than you realised.

“I know,” you sighed.

There was a brief silence on the line. Lando knew you were being considerate by not calling him earlier, yet he couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated. He wanted to voice that but held back, knowing it would lead to a pointless argument. “Where are you, anyway?” he asked instead.

“At Aurora. We're still inside at the smoking area cause it's quiet and warm here,” you added. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Aurora is on the other side of the city, and at this time of night I'd rather not send you in a random cab,” Lando replied, his concern growing. “Are the girls with you?”

“Yes, they are. But you really don't need to come,” you pushed.

Lando knew you were trying to not bother him, but he also knew that this was pointless to argue about. Besides, he would be restless if he just stayed home now that he was up. “I'm coming,” he said with a finality in his voice.

“Baby…” you sighed.

Lando was already getting up and putting on some clothes. “Stop protesting, Y/N. Half of the cab drivers barely even speak English here,” he retorted. “You’ve been drinking, you’re wearing that small dress, and you’re- You’re not going to call a cab. Just stay inside. I’ll be there soon.”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to reply. You could hear the frustration in his voice, but it somehow warmed your heart. “I love you,” you spoke eventually.

“Love you, too. See you at the club,” he added before he ended the call.

He didn’t know how to explain what he felt. It was just that- So many things in his life could be taken away within a second. And he barely had anything stable to hold onto, considering how much he had to travel. He knew what people and social media were capable of, and he was just so afraid of you getting hurt. You’ve been dating over three years now, so his followers knew who you were, and he was also aware that people didn’t always have good intentions.

Twenty minutes later he was parked outside the club. He called you, so you quickly grabbed your belongings, hugged the girls goodbye, and then hurried to his car. You sat in and closed the door behind yourself.

Lando winced at the sound. “Hey, careful.”

He had taught you not to smack the door of his car, but apparently you were too drunk to notice or remember.

“Oh, sorry,” you bit on your lip when you realized what you had done.

You checked your phone to see the time, and that was when you saw the notification of your bank application. You frowned and checked your account. Lando sent you money despite that he decided to pick you up, but you only expected an amount that would cover a cab ride. You huffed when you saw the numbers.

“Baby, I wanted to call a cab for a ride home, not to buy the driver with the car,” you glanced at your boyfriend, who had just started the engine.

“Consider it as a precaution,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the road as he started driving. He was still a little frustrated. “Better safe than sorry. And you know I don’t like you being in cabs with strangers at night.”

“I know, but this is extensive. Did you think I’d have to pay a ransom for myself or what?” you sighed. “You know I have my own money, right? Just not on this card.”

“I know,” he said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “But sometimes you can be irresponsible when it comes to money, like leaving your card behind or not checking your balance,” he said, recalling past incidents.

You just hummed. That was right.

“Besides, this most likely wouldn’t be enough for a ransom,” he added.

“I was just joking,” you mumbled. He wasn’t in a funny mood tonight.

“I know,” Lando sighed. He stepped on the break at a red light and looked at you. “Y/N, I don’t even know how to approach this anymore. I’m not saying that I would pick you up because I’m trying to be nice. I’m saying it because I’d much rather pick you up by myself than wait until some creep kidnaps you. I know, you’re a strong, independent woman, but can’t you just let me have it my way for once?”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. “No one is going to kidnap me.”

“Y/N,” he pressed. “Please. Seriously.”

You couldn’t force back a small smile. Even though he could annoy you to death by being overprotective sometimes, he was still very cute.

“Okay,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Meanwhile, the light has turned green again.

“Okay?” he glanced at you again quickly before looking back at the road.

“Yeah. Okay.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and he sent you a small smile back. Oh, how you loved him.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #f1 x reader

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occamstfs · 1 day ago

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Peace Together

Devon dreamed of getting out of the South, after achieving his great escape and beginning his Ivy League education he finds a new challenge in his perfect roommate, Phillip Wellington III or Lip. Never has the jock been anything but an angel to his new roommate, so why does he drive Devon mad?

Anxious nerd -> Preppy jock Bit of a self indulgent one, vaguely based on a certain American novel, which anyone who has read it will surely notice haha! Once more aided by Fred W. Kong! Hope you enjoy this tale of two longing roommates! -Occam

Devon never believed that people like Lip actually existed. Sure, superficially he looked just like any number of tormentors he knew from back home; The very ones who led him to avoid any team sports or phys ed, the ones that led him to pour everything he had into his studies and any academic extracurriculars he could find to get out of Mississippi. And so he did, and then he met Phillip. Or Lip, as he prefers to be called.

The pair came from different worlds. Devon was the sole Asian student in a southern public high school. Phillip Wellington III was the scion of a blue blooded Massachusetts clan. From the start Devon knew he would be encountering people from lives he would never understand, coming from backgrounds of such privilege he could scarcely understand.

But when he heard he would be rooming with a Wellington, Devon went almost catatonic with fear that he would be some plaything of a rich asshole. Out from the frying pan of brutish jocks and into the fire of a genuinely powerful preppy tyrant. Come to find out however, Lip was the furthest thing from a cruel snob.

At face value, one would assume Lip was handed his admission to this university on a silver platter, and true, no donor-hungry university would deny a Wellington. Devon certainly thought as much. But after learning even briefly of his new roommate’s achievements it was clear that by all accounts, Lip earned his place here. His test scores were stellar, academically he sometimes even gave Devon a run for his money. On top of his stellar intellectual pursuits though, he was an athletic star unlike any other.

Like a polyglot learns languages or a prodigy instruments, anytime Lip encountered a sport or game he had yet to play, in an hour's time he would be schooling whoever showed him the ropes. He could do it all, he did do it all. He had every right to look down on Devon. And yet ever since their first meeting Lip has been nothing but kind and respectful. He has been a beacon of warmth to Devon as he adapted to this cold, often hostile new university life.

So why does he fill Devon with such dread?

“Y’alright buddy? Dev?”

Devon shakes out of a stupor he didn’t even know he was in and finds himself staring directly at his roommate, his self-proclaimed best friend, Lip. He smiles awkwardly, as he does most things, and apologizes, “Jeez yeah- too many late nights I guess, sorry Phillip.”

Lip grins, perfect smile gleaming as he walks over to ruffle Devon’s hair. The meek man desperately tries to hide how he freezes up under the faultless man’s touch, something he’s well practiced in after their few years living together. While both are quite busy with the rigor of their course schedules, Lip even more so with his athletic and social commitments, in their free time it was rare to see one without the other.

Outside observers would be quick to pin Devon a hanger on, but in reality Lip goes out of his way to be near his roommate whenever the opportunity presents itself. Which, given Devon’s proclivity towards static study is fairly often. An entire floor of the campus’ library had become something of a popular haunt due to Devon, and by proxy Lip, frequenting it and attracting the true hangers on of the Wellington golden boy.

For the life of him, Devon can’t understand why a man that anyone in their right mind would describe as perfect would give him the time of day. Why he would care to spend time with him at all, let alone invite him on their family vacations. Since Devon stumbled into their dorm all those years ago and saw Lip hallowed by their cheap phosphorescent ceiling fan, he has done nothing but gone out of his way to ensure Devon would never feel lesser. It made the ever-antsy man feel like he was going insane.

“Man! Lost in your head again Dev? Gotta be a new record,” Devon feels the blush burning on his cheeks as he sees the same genuine smile that is almost always painted on Lip’s face. His blush is certainly not helped by the fact that Lip is halfway through changing into a flowy button up. Not that Devon’s gay of course, or whatever. He just wasn’t prepared to see his friend shirtless. Lip’s smile briefly flickers as he tilts his head before continuing, “Are you still down to head to the frat networking thing tonight?”

Devon groans for a few uninterrupted seconds. Shit- He knows he really should go, but truly nothing sounds more hellish than spending time with those money-bagged brutes. Eyes flicker and something in his chest flutters as he looks to his roommate, at least Lip will be there. The thought is buried without reflection, “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll go with you-”

“Sweet!” Lip’s smile fades for the smallest moment and he quickly goes to smell his pit before grimacing, “Oof I better hit the shower before though-” The Adonis reaches to grab his shirt by the hem and lifts it over his head with effortless grace, perfectly displaying his waist and sending a gulp down Devon’s throat. Looking down at his roommate with a wink, Lip grabs a hanging towel before rushing into the bathroom, “Be out in 30, you don’t need a shower before the thing too do ya?”

Face angled down, pointedly not looking at Lip as he unbuttons his pants Devon shakes his head and doesn’t see his roommate’s carefree shrug. Finally, when the door closes and Devon hears the shower running, he sighs and feels secure enough to raise his eyes again. With Lip away Devon feels his attention drawn to the discarded, apparently sweaty shirt. His mouth goes dry.

Try as he might to distract himself, the pull the garment has on him is all-consuming. Devon is pulled to it like a mouth to the flame, his eyes struggling to stray just as they always fail to avoid staring at the back of Lip’s head. Comforted by the drone of the shower, he allows himself to step forward and grab the ever so slightly damp shirt, all the while repeating the mantra ‘I’m not gay’ in his head.

Such thoughts are put on hold as he reaches down to grab it, finding the shirt still slightly warm from being worn by Lip. Moreover he feels his hands are sticky with sweat as he lifts it up, unsure why he is doing this or what he is to do with it next. Devon gulps as he realizes just how large it is. It’s of no surprise of course, Lip is so much larger than him. The Achilles to his Pat- er no that’s not right. All these classics classes are rotting his mind.

Devon bites his lip almost to the point of drawing blood as he feels his fingers rest on the damp left behind by Lip’s pits. Before he even knows what he’s doing he thrusts his face into the shirt and takes a deep sniff. Quicker than he can consciously think, his body reacts to this with delight more than he thought possible. In his mind he reflexively pictures his perfect roommate on the green chasing down a soccer ball, working up a sweat as he climbs trees just for the fun of it, sprinting down the university’s track to set a new high jump record.

Devon’s heart flutters as he is so easily able to recollect the man’s splendor, his success. Burned into his psyche clearer than anything, Devon sees Lip. He sees his brilliant smile, feels his rough palms, smells the memory of his sweat overpowering expensive cologne as powerfully as he smells both on the shirt clutched to his face. This is not enough, he needs more. His mouth waters as he imagines the exposed happy trail, sees a few curls extending past the edge of Lip’s sleeve, hears an echo of his loud lilting laughter. Devon needs to be him, Devon needs him.

Comforted by the sound of the shower still running, Devon loosens his white-knuckled grip on the shirt and moves to stand in front of a mirror. Throwing off the graphic tee he had on, he moves quicker than he has in years to throw on Lip’s shirt. It hangs limply from his thin shoulders and onto his flat chest, the sleeves fall well past his fingertips. He feels the cold patch of sweat about halfway down his sides where the garment apparently clung to Lip’s pits.

He pulls the placket tight to feel the shirt strain against his thin back, desperately willing the shirt to fit him. Wishing more than anything it was skin tight as it fit on Lip. Wishing he were man enough to fill it.

Staring at his reflection he sees nothing but the fool he is. The phoney he always has been. He sees his eyes begin to water as his face burns with embarrassment, with envy, with a need to be someone else. With an oppressive hunger to be more like Lip, to be Lip.

Clenching his eyes shut to avoid crying outright, the sound of the running shower fades into silence as he loses himself to his memories, his obsessive recollections once more. Burned into his eyes before the sting of tears can overwhelm him he sees how the waist of the shirt hung low, almost to his knees. And then he flashes back.

It was early on in their relationship, Devon was still unpacking his things as they moved into their first dorm. He had probably spent about half a minute trying to reach something on top of their bookshelf before Lip sidled over to lend a helping hand. Guarded more than could possibly be healthy, Devon almost scoffs before grumbling out a thanks. Turning to look up at Lip, he sees his new roommate scratching the back of his head in as awkward a manner as he’s probably capable, “Sorry Devon- I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself or-”

“It’s fine! It’s whatever.”

Refusing to let it rest, and unaware that Devon’s size is obviously an insecurity, Lip continues, “How tall are you anyway?” Devon’s brow twitches into a scowl as he prepares to snap before turning to see a look of genuine care and curiosity on his new roommate’s face. Thrown for such a loop he answers as he always does, falsely, “No it’s fine I’m uh, 5’9” Lip looks the student up and down and knows he can’t be taller than five seven. Devon simply banks that no one cares enough to call him on the matter, usually a safe bet.

The deceit bothers Lip though, quickly he moves to rest a hand on Devon’s shoulder before his new roommate can flinch away. Lip looks him intently in the eyes, “You shouldn’t lie about your height Dev. You shouldn’t feel the need to.” Devon feels the hand twitch on his shoulder as Lip considers moving it into a caress or pulling him into a hug before he instead takes a step back to give him room, “You don’t need to care about what others think of you buddy.”

The conversation dogged him then almost as much as it does now. All this time later he still cannot get over how affected he was by Lip’s kindness. How much he immediately longed to help him, to be his friend. His intense stare, the warm hand perfectly resting its weight on his shoulder, if Devon focuses he swears he can feel it there now, comforting him. Ugh! It’s driving him insane.

Opening his eyes he sees himself in a mirror, just as he was before. A reflection of his playing dress-up. Shaky hands resting on the counter and then he sees it. Or no? No, the image has changed? It must be in his head, it has to be. And yet, as he stares at the mirror, he would swear the shirt seems to be fitting him better. Making an effort he goes to stand up straight and sees the button up pull a few inches higher, he feels himself take up more space in the room.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Devon gasps and poses to find himself standing at least 5’9. No. Even taller. His eyes alight with wonder, but there’s no time to question this miracle as he realizes the sound of the running shower has stopped. Then he hears the turning of a door handle and sees steam pouring out from the bathroom door opening as Lip returns, towel wrapped around his waist and sculpted body bare to the world “Don’t remember if you needed to shower too but you’re all good now Dev!”

Shaking his hair dry like a dog, only then does he notice Devon guiltily staring at him, “Oh! That my shirt buddy? Coulda just asked-” Not a hint of judgement or suspicion on his face. Though he’s stunned from shock as Devon runs over and grabs him by his arms, never has the man ever gone out of his way to touch him fully clothed. For him to even look at him while he’s basically nude must mean something is seriously amiss.

“Phillip. Do you notice anything different about me?” Lip looks him up and down with a shy smile, tightening the towel hiding his modesty as he does so, “Uhhh, not really Dev?” Devon releases his grip as he too realizes how out of character the action was, “Look! I’m clearly taller!”

Lip tilts his head and looks closely, Devon sees his furrowed brow and for a moment it seems like he’s going to agree, but then his eyes get glassy. With a grunt Lip blinks hard a couple times and then whatever confusion that lay behind his eyes is gone, his expression returned to the usual perfect smile that rests upon his face, “What do you mean buddy? We’ve always been the same height!”

Devon blanches. Looking down he realizes that as he was so honed in on Lip that he didn’t even notice as he sprouted taller once more. He feels the cool air of their dorm room on his ankles as his legs have clearly lengthened, sees his wrists peeking from the sleeves of a shirt that now seems almost too short for his lanky arms. Gasping, he almost falls back from realizing that he is currently making direct eye contact with Lip, a man who has always stood over a head taller than him. In fact he would have fallen, had his roommate not been ready to catch him.

Devon feels the man’s slightly damp arm holding him aloft, he quietly apologizes, knowing that Devon is usually touch averse. “Sorry Dev.” In the rush to catch him, their faces rest but an inch apart from each other. Both men freeze. Devon smells Lip’s minty, warm breath and is faced with a need more pressing than he’s ever felt before. Fortunately for him, Lip’s down-turned eyes and wanting mouth provide no illusion that he craves anything but the same.

It’s not clear who moves first as their mouths meet. It doesn’t matter as they both lean in and for the first time since they met, Devon feels peace. Even the hysteria of his suddenly sprouting almost half a foot taller cannot stir him from the bliss and contentment he finds in the embrace of Phillip Wellington. When he glides across the man’s brilliant teeth with his tongue and feels his counterpart do the same, Devon finally opens his eyes to see Lip's tanned face far too close for comfort, see his lashes quiver as he somehow finds similar delight in Devon’s mouth.

And he pushes away.

Devon falls to the floor, causing a clamor louder than either man expected. Scrambling on the floor he gasps deeper breaths than his thin torso should be able to manage. His vision flashes white from taking in more oxygen than he’s ever done before. Hands that moments ago were clutching and rubbing the bare muscled back of Lip now fly to his own chest as his expanding lungs burn, only to find resistance where there should be none.

Fingers inching under the borrowed shirt scrape against the bulging muscle fibers of pecs beginning to form. As Phillip reaches out a helping hand as he has done on countless occasions in the time they’ve known each other, Devon skitters away, doing everything short of smacking the hand as he struggles to push himself back using his legs alone, crying out in a voice cracking deeper, “WhAT’s happening to me PhILip!”

Lip, not used to being caught off-guard, struggles to come up with a game plan as he’s distracted watching Devon’s exposed ankles prickle with hair as hitherto non-existent calves begin to press against his pants. Staring hungrily as wider feet press against cheap tennis shoes, filling them almost to bursting as Devon tries to crawl onto his bed. Lip’s mind is torn between two worlds, just as Devon seems to be torn between two selves. He struggles to remember which Devon he knows to be real, the quiet one sheepishly sneaking peeks at him from behind a textbook, or the one that seems to be bursting forth before him.

Crying out as his vocal chords thicken and expand, Devon’s deepening grunts cover the unpleasant sounds of his back cracking as it widens to fill Lip’s shirt. Ribs pushing out and giving him a thick chest that anyone would envy, that he should envy. Memories flash through his mind from years of hungrily staring at Lip’s pecs are interrupted with just as many instances of staring at his own massive chest in gym mirrors. Posing alongside his lov- friend, flexing and playing with a meaty chest. His eye twitches as sees a clear memory of Lip sucking on his larger nipples before gasping and returning to the present moment, hands clenching his bedsheets.

Looking at them, Devon is again stunned with images forcing their way through his mind like a reel. He can’t tell what is real or imagined, he feels himself being topped by Lip. And then he sees Lip’s tanned hands pulling at the bedsheets as he clutches the man’s pecs from behind. Yanking at his blonde curls, he hears heady breaths from his deeper chest. Feels the sweat, smells the man’s natural musk.

In reality his hips reflexively rut against the bed as he cries out Lip’s name in between drooling grunts, “Lip, help-” For the first time in all their knowing each other that he opts to not use the man’s full name, breaking Lip out of his strange lull. Seeing the man quivering against his bed frame, ass suddenly filling out his pants as they begin to tear, Lip can’t help but get distracted. He’s always been drawn to his bookish er- brawny roommate, but facing the man as he grows he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold back.

His excitement makes itself known as under the towel barely hanging onto his own gyrating waist, there’s a clear, throbbing outline of a cock that could do with some attention. One that Devon finds precisely at eye level as he turns on the spot, “Lip. I need your grgh-,” the words dance as he has trouble controlling his still thrusting form, abs bursting onto his torso give him power enough to push off his bed with ease. Which he does, exercising his new burning strength.

Head light from vertigo, he takes his first stumbled step forward and falls once more into the arms of Lip, his face squarely pushed against the man’s dewy pecs. Looking up to find Lip staring into him with nothing short of total desire, biting his lip with a fervor, Devon struggles to not totally give in to whatever alien drive is pulling them together,“Look we- we can’t, I’m not supposed to be like this!”

It’s unclear if Lip is even listening as he whines from the feeling of Devon’s bare skin against his own. Shaking with the effort of holding back, he allows his towel to fall to the ground, gasping as his cock bobs free, forcefully bumping into Devon’s barely contained package. Looking down to see Lip’s exposed growing rod, Devon feels his ability to keep his hardening cock and growing lust under control waning.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. As he feels his traps bulging and arms bulking, he wonders if he even wants to anymore. There’s only a hint of lucidity behind Lip’s eyes as Devon makes his appeals, and with each needy throb of his package, every scratch of Lip’s hands against his back, every sweaty breath against his torso even that meagre show of willpower begins to fade.

“I’m not some muscle-bound hunk like you Lip! I’m just dweeb! I’m your little pet project!” Lip shakes his head slowly, and with each rotation Devon changes even more, biceps shaping up to be even larger than Lip’s. He feels them strain the shirt and grunts as he is unable to ignore the continuing changes. Lip would never call him a pet project, to Lip they were friends, just friends. Not divided by status, Lip never looked down on him.

“Okay whatever! We’re friends, right? Just friends!” Lip’s mouth falls open, wanting to take a bite, give a hickey, drink in Devon’s saliva, taste his sweat. Devon’s heart skips a beat as his chest feels a pang of need, are they just friends? His jaw squares out, shaping into something impossibly masculine, powerful and sharp. One of Lip’s hands forces itself under his shirt to rub his back as muscle continues to pack on. The other makes its way all the way up to play with Devon’s hair as it changes from the same cut he has gotten his whole life. Changing from one deliberately unassuming to a cut that heightens his masculinity, displays his status. One that looks just like Lip’s

He remembers when Lip took him to the barber shop his parents always took him to, being introduced to men that have known Phillip his whole life. He remembers being introduced as Dev, ‘my boyfr-” No. that didn’t happen, that can’t have happened. And yet he feels his haircut change to something posh and preppy. Something like that which he has always adored on Lip’s head. Oh how he adores him.

His mouth is a millimeter away from kissing his perfect man, the perfect man once more, something he knows would spell the end of life as he knew it. But as the seconds pass in the grasp of Lip, as his hands unconsciously free his cock from its captivity, he can scarcely remember which life lived is even the real one. He’s still Devon, he’s still a student who fought his way here from the south, he’s still intelligent. Still hotter than anything. His head tilts as Lip moves in for another kiss. And for the life of him he doesn’t know why a small part of him objects at all.

He allows Lip to tear the shirt off him before tackling him onto the bed, almost growling with need as they fuck like it’s the first time they ever have, despite clearly having done so innumerable times. Every burning muscle on Dev’s sweaty body feels brand new as they stretch and trust like they never have before. The bed frame creaks under the weight of both men as their twins burst together into a king size bed befitting the new titanic couple.

Their wardrobes combine as Dev finds himself far more accustomed to dressing just like Lip. Graphic tees and baggy pants vacate to make room for clothes exactly like Lip wears, if not a tad larger what for Dev’s preference to be bulkier than his, only relatively, lithe lover. Memories of cowering in the shadow of his perfect roommate totally disappear as instead he clearly recalls always standing by the nothing-but-kind man’s side. Dev and Lip are a pair as they always have been, and if they have their druthers, as they always will be.

When the third alarm goes off warning the pair to quit their fun and get ready for the impending networking event for their frat, Lip finally pushes Dev towards the shower, “C’mon now there’re gonna be associates of father there Dev, we’ve gotta look our best!” His lover rolls his eyes and laughs at Lip’s disheveled hair, “Think you might need a touch up there too Mr. Wellington-”

Forcing up Lip’s arm to get a good smell of his b.o. He smirks and mocks his boyfriend, who just like himself, smells unmistakably of sex, “Ooh man- And another shower for yourself I think?” Turning on the faucet he directs Lip in first, “two birds one stone?” Lip rolls his eyes before winking, “Never knew you were so concerned with efficiency there. As long as you’re able to control yourself so we might actually come out cleaner than we went in, you've got a deal.”

Following him in, it’s not long at all before Dev’s pressing his boner into his lover’s back. Lip just smiles and turns before pulling his head down to shampoo the massive man’s sweat-stained hair. Afterwards he grabs him by the jaw and shakes his head, playfully complaining, “You little horndog, what am I going to do with you…”

Despite Dev’s best attempts to have some fun, the pair eventually get all washed up and head out to the door only a few minutes later than planned. Dressed as well as they can be with what limited time they had, they wander off to the event hand in hand, as they almost always are. For the first time in years Dev is not burdened by his obsession, not held back by his denial. He finally allows himself to take advantage of the life he has found himself in, to feel the love of the man he has found himself with.

Lip of course never felt on anything besides equal footing with his roommate. While the Devon of the past may eventually have shed his self-conscious nature on his own, that he was blown out of his shell supernaturally is all the better for his relationship with the Wellington scion. As they catch the eyes of every guest at the party, no one can say they are not perfect for each other. Feeling his hand clasped in Phillip’s, Dev smiles as he is finally able to feel peace.

#male tf #reality change #personality change #male transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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merakiui · 3 days ago

Note

Do you have any thoughts to share about the housewardens with a girlfriend with small boobs? I never see anything positive about that, maybe you have some?

Absolutely!!! :D time for small titty appreciation~

Riddle likes you as you are, regardless of the size of your chest, but if he’s being truthful he’s especially fond of the way your small boobs make his dick look bigger in comparison. ^^;; also, he once read a statistic that a person with smaller boobs is more sensitive than a person with bigger boobs. He’s determined to see if there’s any truth to that, and any statistic needs adequate evidence. :)

Leona doesn’t have much of a preference either way. Tits are tits. He likes them because they’re your tits, but if you really want an answer he’ll tell you it’s because they’re fun to play with when they’re so perky all the time. And they fit in his mouth so perfectly. But what does he know? He’s an ass man first.

Azul is a pervert and he’ll admit that one of the biggest appeals of your small tits, aside from the size itself, is the fact that it’s very appealing to hold them entirely in his hands, cupping them with ease and they won’t spill out. It’s even better when he’s in his mer form and his tentacles cover them completely, suckers latching onto a cute, pebbled nipple. >_< there’s something so erotic about your small tits and how a mark or two from his suckers could cover them almost completely. Size difference flips the switch in his tako hindbrain.

Kalim loves the way they look when pressed up against your shirt when you aren’t wearing a bra, hard nipples poking through in such a delicious way. Even better if the shirt is soaked and clinging to your chest, creating such a perfect contour. He just thinks it’s so pretty!!! He can’t help fawning over them. They’re so cute. He’s sorry if this isn’t the answer you were hoping for. He’s just hopelessly enthralled with you and your adorable tits.

Vil is a firm believer that all shapes and sizes are beautiful. Maybe he’s biased because it’s you and he adores everything about you and your body from top to bottom. He thinks there are so many fashion styles and lingerie that can flatter those with smaller chests (just as it’s the same for those with bigger chests). Besides, more than a handful is a waste when you’re concerned. He enjoys being able to toy with your tits,,, especially when it’s so easy to get a hold of and grope them.

Idia has this mentality: flat is justice. Yeah, mega milk-sized tits are great and look amazing in the shirt, but he likes the perky pair you have. He also likes them because he has big hands and long fingers and it just looks really erotic when he has his hands on your chest. OTL he will defend small tiddies until the end of his days.

Malleus hopes your chest isn’t a point of insecurity for you because he thinks they’re divine. You’re asking him why he likes your chest? Well, if you had a bigger chest it may get in the way of hugs and skin to skin contact. :< there’s more of you to hug and hold when you have a small chest that doesn’t get in the way of that.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw

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sacr1ficialang3l · 19 hours ago

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Somewhere in the thoroughfare˚୨୧⋆｡

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER

SUMMARY: Dean and reader embark on a journey to see the west. They drive for hours upon hours, but reader knows the perfect way to distract Dean for a while. 2.9k

WARNINGS: smut (MDNI). oral m receiving. getting a blow job while driving. do not try this at home kids. age gap.

NOTES: Daddy is back! It took me a long time because I haven't been very inspired lately, sorry I disappeared for a bit. I am still not an expert in writing smut, I will learn one day I promise. Anyway, another one of my little self-indulgent fantasies for you all. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

Summer this year was hot and sticky, all humid air and warm sunlight.

It had been miraculously quiet in the supernatural world for the past few weeks, and Dean decided it was the perfect time to take his pretty girl for vacation. He had noticed that you were a little down lately, a little less smiley and your eyes a little less sparkly. You were good at hiding it, but Dean knew that the hunting life was hard on you sometimes. He had gotten used to it after so many years, barely feeling the ache in his bones and the weight on his shoulders anymore, but when he held you in his arms while you cried your pretty eyes out one night, he decided you two needed a break.

He got his credit card ready, picturing five-star hotels and bustling city nights. He was even willing to board a plane just for you. Anything for his sweet girl. So one night, when he was letting you talk about your favorite pop artists—

"So, this Taylor Swift album–"

"Oh, please. Don’t torture me like this, princess. I swear music died in the '90s."

"Shut up and listen, old man. Let me introduce you to peak lyricism."

He interrupts you and explains his plan, asking you to choose any destination.

Imagine his surprise when instead of asking for anything he thought, you chose a road trip.

“Really, sweetheart? All we do is be on the road.”

“I know, but never without the burden of hunting. I wanna drive around with you, no guns or monsters, just us and your other baby.”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled not to get into a plane, but this is for you. We can go anywhere you want, baby.”

“I could never get tired of it. In your car, with all of your dumb luck, is the only place I’ll ever wanna be.”

Dean stares at you for a long moment, eyes a little clouded with something intense, something that makes your insides burn.

“How can you be so perfect?” that makes you giggle, biting your lip and looking up at your boyfriend. “So, where are we going, love?”

“I don’t really care as long as you're with me.”

“Come on. There must be somewhere you wanna go, anywhere.”

“What about Oregon? Oh, but I would also love to drive down Big Sur with you. But what about–”

You were interrupted by Dean’s gruff laughter.

“I think I get the point. We have no time limit, I know how we can visit all the places you want.”

Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you on top of him, letting his hands –so callused from his pistol– brush down your lower back as he pulled you as close as possible.

“Come see the west with me, sweetheart.”

You are somewhere in north Oregon, almost in Washington. You had tried to convince Dean to take you to Forks, but the moment the word Twilight came out of your mouth he refused. (He ends up driving you there a week later, begrudgingly letting you take the aux and play Paramore the whole time you are in there.)

It is one week into your vacation, and the summer heat has only gotten worse. You and Dean are driving down a lonely road towards a little cabin you rented—it was in the middle of the woods and looked extremely homey. You were thrilled when you found it, even though explaining to Dean how Airbnb worked was an ordeal, considering he had only ever stayed in shitty motels without ever making a reservation or entering credit cards in some website.— You are planning to stay there for at least a week before resuming your journey to California.

So right now, you two are surrounded only by the trees, the setting sun, and the extremely hot air. The wind through the window is thick and muggy, clinging to your skin as you rest across the front seat of the Impala. Your socked feet dig into Dean’s thigh, and your head dangles out the window, hair catching the breeze, whipping gently around your face. Your eyes are closed while you tap your hand against your bare leg along with the beat of one of Dean’s rock songs, enjoying the way one of his hands is wrapped around your ankle.

You still find it astonishing that even in this weather, Dean is wearing his usual jeans and black shirt. At least you had convinced him to drop the flannel. You are the complete opposite, dressed in short shorts that barely hit your upper thigh and a white tank top with no bra on. You told him it was because wearing one made you sweat more when he asked, but the truth is that you liked the way Dean stared at the outline of your nipple piercings through the thin material of your almost translucent top, eyes hungry and feral.

You tilt your head up to look at your boyfriend when he starts singing along, his voice barely audible over the wind on your ears. There he is, knowing every lyric of a song released many years before you were born, his crow's feet even more pronounced as a relaxed smile settled on his face, the rough skin of his fingers brushing up and down your calf.

He catches you looking at him, and he gives you one of his signature smug grins.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“Oh, definitely.” You say flirtily, pulling your head back inside of the car and half-closing your window to eliminate some of the whistling.

Dean chuckles, and once again, you’re struck by how incredibly handsome he is. His elbow rests casually on the edge of his open window as he grips the steering wheel with ease. The setting sun casts a warm glow over him, making his green eyes practically glow. The veins on his forearms stand out, and the black shirt clings tightly to his chest and biceps.

At the end of the day, you are just a girl, so you lean forward and sink your teeth into the strong muscle of his arm. God, it was so big, almost as big as your head. Dean hisses a bit at the pain but doesn’t pull away, too used to your shenanigans.

“Is this what vampire movies did to your generation?” He grumbles when you let go of his flesh, but his expression softens when he hears you giggle while you admire your work.

There’s a deep set of teeth marks on his bicep—a perfect imprint of your canines. He pretended to be annoyed when you bit him, but he actually relished in bearing your mark. Because he is as yours as you are his.

“Nope, you’re just biteable.”

That makes him snort and shake his head fondly. You look at him again, now closer, and you have to bite your lip at how hot your boyfriend is. This older, experienced, kind, sweet man… all for you. You are so lucky.

A great idea strikes you. You check the GPS on your phone, (Dean refused to use it, saying that he knew how to find his way everywhere with just a map) According to it, you’ve got at least another hour on this empty road. Perfect.

You shuffle around in the bench seat of the Impala until the point of your feet are pressed against the car door, knees bent comfortably as you let your head fall down into Dean’s lap. He is a little startled at first, sending you a confused look. But you simply beam at him sweetly, staring into his eyes from between his torso and the steering wheel. He laughs, brushing some hair out of your face with his free hand.

You wait for a few minutes before putting your plan into action. The moment Dean’s eyes are extra focused on the road, his fingers drumming along to some song you think is by Led Zeppelin (you are learning, for him), you tilt your head to the side and press your cheek against his crotch.

Dean’s movements halt for a second, and he sends you a warning look.

“What do you think you're doing, sweetheart?”

You say nothing, giggling softly and nuzzling against his clothed dick again. The fabric of the denim was rough, and it burned your skin just right. You start to feel how Dean slowly starts to harden under you, and you start to leave soft kisses all over his upper thighs and over the growing bulge.

“Baby, I am serious.” He calls out your name when you don’t stop. “I am driving, for god's sake.”

You catch the edge of the waistline of his jeans in between your teeth, pulling at it softly before you look up at Dean, all doe eyes and fluttering lashes.

“You’ve been driving for hours. Let me give you a little thank-you, baby.”

Dean groans, both his hands now in the steering wheel, like he was scared to lose control. He licks his lips, thinking for a moment with an almost pained expression.

“You’re so… I’m gonna lose my damn mind.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I won’t stop you, but just know that if we crash against some fucking tree it will be your fault.”

You giggle and proceed to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. You lick a long strip across his now completely hard cock over his boxers. It makes Dean’s breath hitch, and his hips twitch subtly under you. You keep mouthing at the bulge over the thin fabric of the underwear until it is completely soaked with spit.

“Come on, darling.” Dean grunts. “Don’t be a tease.”

You use your hands to pull his erection out of his underwear. It is a little cramped and less than ideal in the small space you have, but you manage to pull his pants down enough so that his cock stands proudly in front of you, long and hard and wet with your spit.

You shift in the seat of the impala once again until you are laying on your stomach, feet kicking in the air playfully as if you were doing the most innocent of things instead of about to blow your boyfriend while he drove.

You brush your tongue against the throbbing tip of Dean’s dick, collecting the precum already there into your mouth. You hear Dean groan distantly, but your head was getting a little hazy already. You loved sucking Dean’s cock. He fit so right in your mouth, the weight and taste of him in your tongue so perfect that you felt dizzy with it. You could spend hours with him nuzzled against your throat, suckling and swallowing around him.

You give kitten licks to the whole length, getting him sloppy and ready. The moment the tip slides in between your lips, Dean lets out the first low moan. It was heavy and husky, and you absolutely loved it. You take him deeper into your mouth, starting to bop your head up and down.

“Fuck, yes. So good, so– ah, so fucking good for me, baby.”

You can feel his eyes on you, and you lean away slightly, his cock sliding out of your mouth with a wet pop.

“Eyes on the road, Dean.” There is a string of saliva connecting your lips and Dean’s dick, and the image makes him curse, his jaw clenching as his eyes flick back up.

You take him inside your mouth again, deeper this time. You breathe in through your nose before you sink in further, until he hits the back of your throat. It makes Dean grunt loudly, but it quickly turns into an extended moan as the warm walls of your throat contract around him.

“Mmnh— you feel so good, baby. You were made for this. Such a tight, warm little mouth just for me. Such, ah, such a good girl, taking my cock so deep. Fuck.”

Dean’s knuckles are white where he is holding the wheel for dear life. You hum at the praises, and Dean lets out a choked whine at the vibrations that throbbed through his length, cock twitching and more precum dribbling out of his tip.

You feel your mind spin a little at Dean’s words and the sweet feeling of him so deeply settled into your mouth. You brush your tongue against the underside of his cock, and it is messy. You’re almost desperate with it, drool dribbling past your lips and down Dean’s balls. He hiss at the feeling and throws his head back for just one second before his eyes return to the road.

“You love cock so much, don’t you?” He growls, strangled. “So fucking sloppy and messy. My pretty girl all needy for me.”

You whimper around him at his words, and you start to suck with renewed vigour. Slurping around Dean’s length and letting out pleased noises every time he hit the back of your throat. He keeps murmuring filthy words at you, fighting the way his hips desperately wanted to thrust into your mouth.

Seriously, you are lucky he has so much self control and doesn’t end up flipping the car.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. I’m– a-ah, I'm close. Make me come in your mouth, baby.”

You pull back a bit, wanting Dean to come on your tongue— you want to taste it, savor the way it coats your tongue with a flavor that you can only describe as Dean. You use your fist to jerk whatever is left out of your mouth, and when your tongue presses into his slit, his cock pulses and he comes.

Dean’s groan is guttural and desperate, fighting to keep his eyes open and his hands firmly on the wheel. Thick ropes of cum fall onto your tongue, and you let out a contented little hum. You lap it all up, eyes rolling back in satisfaction. You swallow around his cock, prolonging his orgasm and making him twitch one last time. Even after he stops coming, you keep suckling around the head of his cock. Dean hisses in overstimulation.

“That’s enough, princess.” He pants, pulling you away by the hair. The combination of the pain and the lack of dick makes you whine. “Stop, or I am seriously crashing the car.”

You lick your lips as you try to catch your breath. You somehow look even worse than Dean did, eyes teary and lips puffy. There was spit dripping down your chin and your breathing was ragged. Your cheek is red and itchy where it rubbed against his jeans, but you love the feeling.

You blink at Dean twice, the fog in your mind slowly dissipating and a proud little grin taking over your face instead.

“I love the way you taste.” You murmur dreamily, and it makes Dean glare at you as he groans.

“You need to stop saying things like that before I pull over and fucking ravish you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You wink at him, moving until you are sitting correctly on the car seat.

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, but there is a pleased smile on his face. He looks somehow even sexier now, the post-orgasm glow turning his eyes shinier and adding an edge to his grin.

Fuck, you still couldn’t believe all that was yours.

You sigh, opening the glove box and pulling out some tissues. Dean has already put himself back into his pants, so you wipe the last traces of spit off your face. Your throat feels a little raw, so you turn and bend over the backrest of the front seat to reach the cooler Dean keeps in the back.

“Fuck, you’re a hazard while driving.”

You grab a water bottle when you feel him slap your ass. The sharp sting spreads through you, heat prickling every nerve. You sit back down with a huff, turning to him with an incredulous expression.

“What?”

Dean shrugs, trying —and failing— to look innocent, his smirk betraying him.

“Come on. You can’t bend over like that and not expect it. I’m only human after all, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but an endeared smile takes over your face.

“Why do I keep you around again?”

A day later, you are sitting outside of the rented cabin with Dean next to you, surrounded by nothing but nature. You made him a simple flower crow with some daisies and baby’s breath you’d found in a clearing nearby. It took plenty of begging, pouting, and soft kisses to convince him to wear it, but once it was on, he hadn’t taken it off.

The days pass in a blur of quiet moments—early mornings spent sipping coffee on the cabin’s porch, evenings filled with whiskey, laughter and many more of those old-man stories you loved so much. And of course, a lot more sex.

Weeks later, after countless motel rooms and small-town diners, you find yourselves standing on the coast. you are near the beach, where the salty breeze mingled with the sound of crashing waves, and the sun hangs warm and golden overhead. Dean stands behind you, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you back against his chest, chin resting against the top of your head.

And right there, in that perfect moment, when Dean turns you around softly and presses his lips to yours, you know exactly why you keep him around.

Because there’s no one else out there for you. Dean Winchester—old enough to be your father, a big bad hunter carrying more baggage than most could bear, with a neon sign flashing 'trouble' on his forehead—is the love of your life.

NOTES: I am trying my best with the smut pls be nice. Another ode to sucking dick by me (I am a virgin if it wasn't clear by now).

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 2 days ago

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The Art of Etiquette Part 11 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: The days leading up to the ball become fewer but a harsh reality hits you leaving you more conflicted than you already were. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: No real warnings a/n: So yeah...it's been a while. Sorry it took me so long to update this story and sorry it's so short but I wanted to bring this one back into the light. I know I keep on saying the ball is in the next chapter but it really will be in part 12 I promise. I wanted to make this chapter longer but I figured I made you guys wait long enough...plus I needed to reintroduce something I spoke about in the first chapter. Start from the beginning

The next couple of days go by in a blur.

Extra long lessons with Jungkook after my seemingly never ending lectures have my head pounding.

"Miss y/n?" my professor calls me over to his desk, finishing up my last lecture before I have to go see Jungkook. "Yes?" I ask and wait patiently for him to hopefully get to thee point sooner rather than later.

"The submission deadline for the writing contest is this weekend. Have you submitted your piece?" he asks, looking up at me through his glasses from his seated position.

I curse at myself internally, having completely spaced about it.

"I haven't but I plan on doing so as soon as I can! The deadline is Sunday night right?" I pray, hoping that I'm correct. "It's Saturday night at 11:59 pm. Do you think you'll be able to complete it in time?" he questions, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, of course. They won't be holding the awards ceremony until next month though correct?" I ask and he hums, confirming my suspicions. "Should be around two or three weeks after depending on how many submissions they get"

I nod and thank him once more for the opportunity and luckily the reminder as well and quickly rush out. I choose to text Jungkook this time the reason why I'll be a few minutes late again, hoping that'll keep him from nagging me about it too much

~~~~~

"You seem...distracted today" Jungkook points out, watching as I wondered off in thought for the fifth time today.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. What were you saying?" I ask, feeling guilty since he's gone out of his way to go through the guest list of the rsvp'd attendees of the ball this weekend. Making sure to tell me a little about each family to hopefully prepare me for the kinds of people that'll be there and how to compose myself around them.

"Let's take a break, otherwise you'll start mixing everyone up" he chuckles and sits down in a chair that's more or less facing me.

"Are you alright?" he asks, tilting his head and taking note of the wrinkles between my brows as I'm clearly fighting some sort of internal battle that doesn't involve him today.

"I have this writing contest that I had completely forgotten about and the due date is this Saturday" I sigh, slumping in my chair but this time he luckily doesn't scold me for it.

"The same day as the charity ball..." he trails off and I nod, covering my face with my hands.

"He told me about it over a month ago" I grumble and Jungkook chuckles warmly at my inner turmoil. I groan as a response and he decides to not tease me about it anymore.

After a while of sitting in silence he pulls my hands away from my face, making me glare at him as a response.

"Today is Tuesday correct?" he asks and I respond with a sigh of a small 'yes'. "I have an idea then" he says, peaking my interest. "Why don't we spend part of our time on our lessons and the rest of the time on your paper" he offers making my brows furrow.

"You'd do that for me?" I say, sitting up straight in my chair, trying to figure out if this is a joke or not but he simply nod.

"I don't see why not. You've been doing well in all of your lessons with me and I think you're more than prepared for the ball so there's no need to beat a dead horse. We'll just spend a little bit of our time getting to know the attendees and do a dance or two to keep you sharp and then I'll help you with your paper" he says and get's up to clear a space on his desk.

"You'll help me?" I question, his willingness to sacrifice our lesson time for my extracurriculars surprising.

"I know it's important to you and if there's any way I could be of any sort of help to you then just let me know. You can work at my desk if you'd like" he says, picking up my bag that he knows has my laptop in it and bringing it over to said desk.

It's times like these where he's sending me mixed signals of going from an etiquette teacher to someone who seems to truly care about me that makes me almost want to ask him questions like 'What are we?' or 'What are your intentions with me?' but even that last one is too open ended.

"Are you alright?" he asks, when I haven't moved a muscle to walk over to his desk yet leaving me shaking my head in a way to get me out of my train of thought.

"Yes. Sorry, yes I'm fine. I'm just trying to figure out what sort of topic I'd like to write about" I explain, owning up to what my partial train of thought might've been earlier.

"Well what sort of contest is it? Is it for an article? A study?" he asks, going at it with a more academic approach, which makes sense in this case it's anything but that.

"It's creative writing. Basically anything from stories of love to poems of heartbreak to even the most suspenseful horror thrillers you could come across!" I say, getting more excited as time goes by, thinking about all the possibilities and topics I could write about.

Picking one though is going to be difficult.

"Have you chosen your genre yet?" he asks and I plop myself down on his desk chair, sighing and opening up the blank document that I've been staring at off and on for weeks.

"You haven't even started it?" he sighs and I shake my head, disheartened at the thought of waisting so much of my precious free time with nothing to show for it.

"What do you usually write about?" he asks, helping me work through the creative process. "Mostly love stories" I sigh and when I look up at him I see him smiling down at me, "Don't laugh" I glare and he holds his hands up in surrender.

"I wasn't laughing, I was smiling. There's a difference" he smirks and brings a chair over to sit near me. "Yeah well don't do that. It makes me feel like you're mocking me for being a lovesick schoolgirl" I grumble and he chuckles.

"Aren't you?" he says, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his chin on his fist, giving me that infuriatingly attractive grin he knows does wonders on a girl's nervous system. "No, I'm not. Now would you please be quiet if you're not going to be helpful" I huff, pulling the flyer out of my bag and giving it a once over.

"Okay enough with the teasing I'll help" he says and looks over my shoulder to check it out as well before I hand it to him and go looking through my Pinterest board to see if I can find some inspiration.

"Have you ever written a love story set in the eighteen hundreds? Something to do with kings and queens? Princes and Princesses?" he suggests and I know for a fact that I haven't. "Isn't that a little too cheesy with the whole fairytale kind of route?" I say, pointing out how cliché it would be.

"Not if I help you" he offers and I look at him suspiciously. "What sorts of people do you think I would have to study in order to be a proper etiquette teacher?" he says, his words answering the question I had telepathically asked.

"I guess you'd be the perfect collaborator in that respect" I admit and he nods and moves his chair closer making me lean away from him as a response.

"You know I don't bite pretty now come on, we've got some work to do" he taunts, slipping in that pet name he knows messes with my head, leaving me scoffing in response before turning back to the blank document staring me in the face on my computer screen.

~~~~~

The next two days we do just as he had said, spending an hour or two on my lessons and the rest on my story. However rushed it is I feel like it's my best story yet.

The research on the time period has been simple since Jungkook's had all the answers and if not he finds them out for me, making this whole piece seem even more authentic.

When I take breaks Jungkook pours over the text, doing edits here and there and talking me through the scenes to help formulate some parts a little more artistically, making the regal setting come to life.

Friday has been a different story, as both deadlines approach us the time we have left is in conflict of where our priorities should lie.

"We can skip our lesson today" Jungkook finally says after I've put my heels on. "But tomor-" "You're ready" he say, cutting me off mid sentence. "Spend the rest of your time on your story" he smiles softly and places a hand on my shoulder before leaving the room, no doubt to get us some sustenance to keep us going.

Something about the interaction made my heart flutter. His confidence in me as well as his want for me to spend time on something I'm truly passionate about makes a sort of funny feeling settle in my stomach.

Am I-?

"Black or green tea this time?" he asks, coming back into the room with a little tray of food and tea pot ready to envelop the tea leaves of choice. "Black please, I need all the energy I can get" he chuckles and does just that, adding a few scoops to the pot before closing the lid and letting it steep.

"Were you able to work on it again once you went home?" he asks, bringing my bag over to his desk and pulling my laptop out for me. "I did but it's hard to work on it without yo- without being here" I say, not wanting to admit that I in some way needed him, my cheeks heating up at the slip up.

"Right" he smiles, not sparing me a glance as he plugs in my charger and pulls the chair out for me.

"Is everything alright?" he asks once he sees my hesitance in coming closer but I shake my head and as a result shake myself out of the headspace I had allowed myself to trail into.

"There's nothing to be nervous about" he says, reading me perfectly like he always does. "What if it's not good enough?" I sigh, my hands resting in my lap, not making moves to reach for the keys.

"It's a beautiful story told from the heart about a love so true one could only dream to experience something so heartbreaking" he says and his compliment however sincere seems unable to reach me now.

Once he's seen my head droop further he turns my chair around and crouches in front of me, tilting my chin up the slightest bit. "Your writing is beautiful. Anyone who's eyes get to land on a single word of yours should thank their lucky stars" he says making me smile just the slightest bit.

"There she is" he says with a warm tone, one I had never heard before making my heart flutter once again.

"Now come on" he says spinning me back around to face the screen. "We've got a deadline to meet do we not?" he says and places his hands on my shoulders as a way to show some confidence and solidarity, believing in me until his last breath.

"We do indeed" I chuckle softly and finally rest my fingers upon those familiar keys.

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monopersona · 3 days ago

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Slip of the Tongue

"Let me take care of you." They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And then the words just slip out of her mouth. The one where she accidentally says I love you.

Sylus x MC (Lili). Fluff, mild emotional h/c, Sylus taking care of his stubborn injured girlfriend because he really loves her or whatever. 2224 words. A/N: Hello! I am back with another Sylus fic. Not going to lie, this one took a few rewrites. The emotional aspect from MC/Lili's part felt more challenging for me to explore now that I'm just dipping my toes back into writing after a while. But that's why we practice, right? Hope you enjoy this one!

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It had been a long day. A skirmish with wanderers near the N109 Zone had left Lili sore and exhausted. To make matters worse, she’d sprained her ankle so severely that she was now confined to a walking boot for the next two weeks. The doctor had excused her from work, too, which only added to her frustration. She hated being sidelined. It made her feel useless.

By the time she stumbled through her apartment door, all she wanted was to collapse and forget the day had ever happened. She plopped onto her couch, not bothering to do anything else. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but the thought of cooking seemed unbearable after today’s ordeal. She decided she could hold off until morning—at least until she woke up and felt any better.

It was eight at night when the doorbell rang and jolted her awake. Lili groaned, her body protesting as she slowly sat up. She was groggy, starving, and still in pain. Perhaps delaying food hadn’t been the best idea after all. Still, she needed to get to the door because whoever was out front rang the bell again.

“One minute,” she called out, wincing as she limped her way to the door.

“Hello, sweetie.”

Of course, it was Sylus. Dressed in his biker jacket over a black shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly charming. And of course, he was holding a bag from her favorite restaurant—the very one she’d been craving all week but hadn’t had the time nor energy to visit.

Lili could feel her heart skip a beat, but she was too tired to muster more than a weak smile and a meek, “Hi.”

Sylus’s sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her disheveled appearance, the walking boot, and obvious signs of fatigue. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“A little birdie told me you got injured,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern as he made his way to the kitchen counter. “I had to see for myself because someone hasn’t been answering my calls or texts.”

Though his words were teasing, Lili felt guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sorry, Sylus. I came home and passed out on the couch. I didn’t even hear my phone.”

Sylus hummed in acknowledgment, his smile softening as he pulled out containers of soup from the bag. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not here to chastise you. I was worried, but I get it—you’re exhausted. Let me take care of you. Sit down.”

Lili opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a finger. “No arguments. Sit. Rest.”

She hesitated, her pride in active battle with her need for comfort right now because all she wanted to do was curl under a blanket and cry, but even doing that would be too much of a chore right now. “I can handle myself, you know,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. Sylus raised an eyebrow at her as he transferred the soup into a bowl.

“Of course you can,” Sylus said smoothly, carrying the bowl of soup to her along with a spoon. It was still steaming hot, much to Lili’s delight. “But I’m here, and I’d like to do it for you. Humor me.” When he finally joined her, he held a spoonful of the soup to her lips.

Lili couldn’t help but squint at him. “You do know it’s my ankle that’s injured and not my arms, right?”

“I can definitely see that.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “So you just like feeding people?”

“I like taking care of you.”

Lili’s breath caught. The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, without hesitation—left her with a fleeting feeling she can’t really describe, but it’s one she has felt many times under his gaze. She wanted to resist. She wanted to insist she didn’t need doting on, but truthfully, she was too drained to fight him on it. So she rolled her eyes but complied, letting him feed her. The soup was warm and comforting, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered between sips.

“So you tell me often. Yet here you are, letting me feed you,” he shot back, grinning. She couldn’t argue with that.

Sylus fed her spoonfuls of soup, teasing her when she tried to insist she could hold the spoon herself every now and then.

Once Lili had finished the soup, Sylus set the empty bowl aside and turned his attention back to her. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Lili blinked. "What?"

He stood up, offering his hand. "You’ve been knocked out all day, and you probably feel dirty. I’ll help you bathe and change into fresh clothes."

Heat flooded up Lili’s face again. “I can manage, you know!”

"I know you can. But it’s easier with help and you’re exhausted.”

“It's... weird."

Lili hesitated. The proposal felt entirely embarrassing, but there is also the undeniable truth that she really did feel gross. Still, the idea of Sylus helping her bathe made her stomach twist with nervousness. Lili had never been shy with Sylus for the most part. They had already crossed so many lines, touched each other in ways that were so intimate and so far away from modest, but this felt completely different somehow. This wasn’t wandering hands and kisses and whispered confessions in the dark. This was him seeing her in a moment of complete vulnerability, stripped down not just physically but emotionally, too. Maybe that was why she hesitated. But Sylus—calm, steady Sylus—only met her eyes with patience that felt so easy, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he stated, and that should’ve made it easier. It didn’t. If anything, it made her feel more exposed. Because this wasn’t about what he would see, this was about how she felt.

Lili’s eyes widened and she swatted his arm lightly. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “I’ll be a gentleman and I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, but just know I’m here to help if you want it.” That also didn’t make it less embarrassing, but she knew she needed to get this over with anyway. So she finally decided to let him help her to the bathroom.

True to his word, Sylus was gentle and efficient. He helped her take off her walking boot and undress with ease; never lingering too long, never making her feel anything less than safe. His touch was steady and firm where it needed to be as he guided her into the warm water. Lili’s face burned the entire time, but Sylus remained unfazed, even playfully flicking water at her when she got too quiet.

"You’re overthinking again," he mused, rinsing out the last bits of shampoo from her hair.

"Am not," she mumbled.

"You scrunch your nose when you do. It’s cute."

Lili groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Sylus, please." She wished she could just drown in the water right now and teleport to another room.

"Alright, alright, I’ll behave," he teased, helping her out and wrapping her in a fluffy towel. Once she was dried off, he put on her walking boot and handed her a fresh set of clothes before turning around while she changed.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed and feeling almost human again, Sylus looked her over with a satisfied nod. "Much better. Now, let's get you comfortable in bed.”

Sylus made her a cup of tea, fluffed the pillows behind her, and draped a blanket over her legs. He even propped her injured ankle on a cushion, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible.

“You don’t have to do all this."

“I know,” Sylus replied, sitting beside her. “But I want to. You’d do the same for me.”

Lili swallowed. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She wanted to argue, to push him away with some dry remark about not needing a babysitter or distract herself with some back and forth banter. But the truth was, she didn’t want him to leave her side.

She was used to handling things alone. Taking care of herself, picking herself up when she fell, gritting through pain until it dulled into something she could manage. She was strong—she had to be. Especially after her grandmother died. But having Sylus here with nothing but warmth in his eyes and gentleness in his touch, that strength wavered. Not in a way that made her feel weak, but in a way that made her realize she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

It was strange, this feeling. Allowing herself to be cared for, knowing she was safe enough to let her guard down. But it wasn’t bad. In fact, it felt good. Comfortable. Like something she had been denying herself for far too long. She finally exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders loosen. She will accept this. She will choose to lean on him.

They spent the next few hours talking—about her injury, his day, and everything in between. At some point, they went on to play a few competitive rounds of kitty cards, with Lili coming out as the champion each time.

By the time midnight rolled around, Sylus knew he had to head home. Lili insisted on seeing him to the door despite his protests.

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting all night, thanks to you,” she replied, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ll be fine. Besides, someone has to lock the door.”

They stood there, the air between them charged. Lili crossed her arms loosely over her chest, a soft smile playing on her lips. Meanwhile, Sylus lingered, a hand in his pocket as the other held on to the jacket he took off hours ago. She knew he was reluctant to go. She didn’t want him to go, either. But she didn't know how to say it.

“Thank you for tonight,” Lili said. “I had a great time.”

“Me too,” Sylus replied, his eyes holding hers. “I’ll see you soon?”

Lili nodded, her smile widening. “Definitely.” There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with words left unsaid.

“Good night, Lili.”

“Good night, Sylus.”

He turned to leave, and that’s when it happened.

“I love you,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. Sylus stopped in his tracks, his back still to her, and Lili’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what she’d just said. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, the mortification that had melted away hours ago coming back in full force again. Without another word, she slammed the door shut, leaning against it as her heart raced too much for her liking. What did I just do? she thought, pressing her hands to her face. Why did I say that?!

Outside, Sylus stood frozen. I love you. His mind replayed her words over and over. A small smile spread across his face. He had known for a long time that he loved her—had known it since the first moment he saw her, even when she’d hated him. He knew it in the way his chest tightened when she smiled, in the way he found himself thinking about her even when she wasn’t around. He had just been waiting for her to be ready. And now, it seemed that she was. Even if she only realized it at this very moment.

Without thinking, he turned back to the door and knocked knowing well that she was still behind the door. Lili’s heart nearly stopped at the sound. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Maybe if I just pretend I’m not here…

The knock was heard again, more insistent this time. With a groan, Lili opened the door just a crack, her face peeking out the tiniest bit as she kept her gaze downward. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Yes?” she said, her voice higher-pitched than usual.

Sylus didn’t say a word. He simply pushed the door open gently, stepped inside, and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could protest, he captures her lips in a kiss. He poured his heart into it—into her. Deeply. Passionately. Lovingly. He would leave no room for doubt.

Lili’s mind went blank, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as she kissed him back with the same fiery intensity. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless.

“I love you, too,” Sylus said, his voice rough but steady.

Lili blinked up at him, so relieved but also still in shock. “You… you do?”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I do. I always have. Have I ever made you feel otherwise?”

A slow smile spread across her face, the embarrassment finally melting away once again. “Well, no.”

Sylus chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other, before Sylus spoke again. “I’m staying here tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Lili looked at him with the softest of smiles. “I don’t mind at all.” A/N: I hope you enjoyed this fic and are having a great day/night! Please feel free to let me know what you thought of the fic. I'd love any constructive feedback!

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mysteriousxgirls · 2 days ago

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Harmony sat there, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, her heart still racing from the encounter. She couldn’t stop her hands from trembling as Claire gently dabbed the wet wipe against her palm, the coolness of it a sharp contrast to the fire of fear burning in her chest. The blood seemed so surreal to her—so out of place, like something from a different world. This wasn’t just some petty fight, this wasn’t a random moment of chaos. No, this was something darker, something she wasn’t sure she could handle alone. She couldn’t help but flinch slightly as Claire’s soft touch brushed against her skin. The tenderness in her movements was a strange comfort, but it only highlighted how much she didn’t want to be in this situation, didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. She had always managed to handle her own problems, but this was different. It wasn’t just a fight—it was terror disguised as a roses.

“I-I’m fine... I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, the apology a reflex more than a real reassurance. Her gaze flicked up at Claire, her eyes haunted, as the girl asked who the psychopath was. Harmony swallowed, unsure of what to say. Should she tell her the truth? Could she tell her? But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she couldn’t drag Claire into her mess. “Just… a crazy ex-girlfriend,” she muttered, her voice lacking conviction. She wasn’t sure if that was enough, if Claire would be satisfied with it, but it was all Harmony could give. She didn’t want to scare her, but the warning was already there, hanging in the air like a shadow. Harmony hesitated, her gaze flicking to the bouquet of flowers that now lay abandoned on the floor, petals scattered like the pieces of her shattered calm. She offered a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She was so tired of pretending everything was fine. “Please,” she continued, her voice a little stronger but still fragile. “The next time... don’t accept anything from anyone you don’t know. I—I don’t know how far she’d go to have Nate back.” The thought of what Lily was capable of made her shiver. She couldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of her.

Her smile faltered as she looked down at her hand, “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft, a little broken. She looked at Claire, at the girl who had stepped in to help without hesitation. Harmony took a deep breath and tried to refocus. The job needed to get done. She had to pull herself together. "Let's get this makeup done. It's going to be a long day," she said, forcing herself to sound calm, to pretend like everything was okay, even though nothing was. As Claire set the brushes down and began to prepare, Harmony closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. The thought of telling Nate crossed her mind again. But no—he was already so worried about her, she couldn’t add to it, not yet. She’d tell him later, after work. There were people around, she wasn’t alone. Lily wouldn’t dare do anything with so many eyes on her, right?

Claire’s smile wavered, the corners of her lips faltering as her brows drew together in quiet apprehension. Her gaze flitted from the bouquet now lying in disarray on the floor to Harmony, scrutinising the tremor in her hands as she clutched the ominous note. “The delivery guy didn’t leave a name,” Claire murmured, her voice tempered with caution. “Just said they were for you.” Her eyes trailed to the delicate cut on Harmony’s finger, where a crimson bead of blood swelled against her pale skin—a stark contrast to the velvety red petals. The atmosphere in the room thickened, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on them. A moment that should have been inconsequential had shifted into something far more sinister. Claire swallowed against the unease creeping up her spine. “Are you okay? Let me grab you a bandage and some tissue.”

The expression on Harmony’s face sent a cold shiver through her—this wasn’t mere discomfort. It was something deeper, rawer. Fear. Real, bone-deep fear. And whoever had orchestrated this so-called gesture had intended for her to feel every excruciating second of it. Fumbling through her bag, Claire retrieved a wet wipe and a small pack of bandages. She pulled one free, then took Harmony’s trembling hand in her own, carefully dabbing away the blood before pressing the bandage into place. Her movements were gentle, but her mind raced with questions. “Harmony…” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “You’re okay. But tell me—who’s the psychopath?” she quizzed, starting to lay out the brushes as she knew this job needed to get done and hopefully it would eventually help harmony.

#brklynbxby #;harmony x nathaniel;

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sweetreasures · 1 day ago

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act casual

exhibitionism, roommates, dubcon, masturbation, livestreaming, perv!yunho, super short idol!yunsang based on the above very real moment from a recent yeosang live lmao

[minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked]

yeosang and yunho have a new rule: always let your roommate know when you are livestreaming. it was a long time coming—after one too many incidents of loud gaming sessions overheard, and unknowingly entering their communal space in various states of undress. they needed a way to minimize the damage that should arise if one of them were to eventually be caught balls out on camera.

a quick text (hey dude im on the couch. about to go live for a bit 👍). yunho immediately reacted to the message with a thumbs up of his own. formalities settled, yeosang opened the group’s streaming platform to begin interacting with fans.

“hi, atiny! did you guys arrive home safe from the concert?”

messages flooded in as fans joined his live. they remarked on how amazing the show was, how sad they were to miss it, how beautiful yeosang looked with no makeup on, how they could hardly wait to see what was next for ateez. yeosang beamed at the camera, acknowledging them one by one as if greeting old friends.

“sorry if you hear running water in the background. yunho is washing up, i wanted to talk to you all before going in after him.”

as if on cue, yunho began to sing loudly from the shower, an incoherent mixture of random words and a melody he was making up on the spot.

how does he still have so much energy TT

LOL happy birthday oppa!!

is yuyu joining the live later?

yunho was nothing short of entertaining, priding himself on his ability to make people smile by acting like an utter fool. sure, their manager would undoubtedly scold him later for being so loud this late at night in the dorms. but for now, yeosang chuckled as atiny continued reacting to yunho’s ridiculous antics.

tonight’s live followed the typical routine—he delivered a few behind the scenes stories from finale rehearsals, including a particularly hilarious moment where mingi ended up dropping his cane during arriba and nearly tripping over it. hongjoong joked that if he kept this up, he would need a real cane soon. eventually, mingi’s name was changed in their group chat to “grandpa”. he answered a few questions and vaguely dodged a few well placed spoiler baits. he showed off his freshly dyed hair and basked in the praise that came pouring into the chat.

twenty minutes lapsed before the shower water finally shut off. yeosang, far too engrossed in yet another story, failed to notice when the bathroom door opened and his roommate emerged.

“oh, my bad. are you still live?”

yeosang finally looked up from his screen and spotted yunho standing in their hallway, soaking wet and completely uncovered. he leaned against the wall as if carrying on the most normal conversation in the world. yeosang jumped in terror, covering the cameras on his phone by hugging it close to his chest.

“duh! oh my god atiny this man is crazy.” he calmed down a bit, cautiously lifting his phone to confirm that the camera was indeed still facing his own beautiful and fully dressed being. atiny knew the drill by now; they playfully asked if yunho had walked in wearing his underwear. yeosang evaded their inquiries in a way that made it super obvious that this was exactly what happened.

of course, he couldn’t tell them the situation was far more complicated than they’d imagined. that he was fighting to keep his attention away from yunho as he strolled over to the clean laundry pile and dug around for a towel. away from the fine drops of water that clung onto his lean muscles like delicate glass accessories before wetting the carpet beneath his feet.

as he spoke, yeosang thought he was relatively successful at hiding his shock when yunho set the towel down on an armchair across the room before resting his bare ass on top. on the contrary, atiny informed him through the chat that his cheeks were turning a deeper shade of crimson with every passing second.

yunho must be very nice to look at like that 🙂‍↕️

yeosang what do you see right now??

is this how it feels to live with yunsang…

“no, no, it’s not that, it’s just…”

yunho sunk deeper into the armchair, playing with the pretty pink nipples that perched erect on his broad chest. yeosang doesn’t want to notice the cock resting semi-hard on yunho’s thigh—but he does.

yeosang slides further down the couch, careful to keep yunho out of range “i’m used to it. we’re roommates, after all.”

“it’s my fault. i forgot to grab a towel before washing up!” yunho exclaims from the chair, his tone steady as he stroked his cock. “you don’t mind if i stay here, right?”

yeosang shook his head. “not at all. be my guest.”

yunho smirks as he continues playing with himself and listening to yeosang talk with their fans. he’s more animated this time around, probably overcompensating for how flustered he got upon yunho’s arrival. suspect nothing, atiny. just two friends hanging out in their living room. yunho made zero attempt to hide the lewd noises as he spread the leaking precum down his shaft, or the soft sighs when his thumb ran over a sensitive area on his tip.

doesnt it sound a bit….naughty over there?? 😂

“oh, haha.” yeosang feigned sarcasm, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner. now more than ever he was grateful for the more adult tone he was allowed to take with his fanbase, where jokes like that were commonplace rather than cause for concern. “my mom brought homemade japchae over to celebrate our last show. if only my roommate would eat a little quieter over there.”

laughing emojis flooded the chat. atiny were seemingly satisfied for his very on the fly response. yunho smirked and raised his eyebrow at an embarrassed yeosang. japchae? seriously? yeosang ignored him, opting to answer a few more questions. yunho quickened his pace around his shaft, his stomach hollowing as he squeezed his abdominal muscles to stimulate his perineum against the plush towel. it was clear the conversation was winding down, with yeosang prepared to announce his leave soon.

he imagined all of the atiny gathered in yeosang’s live. surely a few thousand, all of whom his roommate had to entertain while yunho propped his thighs—chiseled from a lifetime of dancing—in full view on the arms of their living room chair. his mouth hung open as his release threatened to spill over from his core. he didn’t know which excited him more—cumming in front of yeosang while his fans were none the wiser, or the growing tent in his roommate’s jeans.

“please don’t tell seonghwa i shared this…if i get a call later, i’m never telling you anything again.” yeosang joked as he waved at the camera, his eyes scanning the rapidfire chat messages begging him to stay for a few more minutes or maybe even hours. he made up some bogus excuse about having a schedule in the morning. yunho whimpered into his palm, tears hugging the corners of his eyes as he struggled to swallow back moans.

“do you have anything you want to say before you— or we…go?”

yunho uncovers his mouth just long enough to choke our a barely audible “i love you, atiny.” before ejaculating onto his stomach—semen streaming out in continuous thick ropes, warm and sticky to the touch. yeosang quickly turned the live off before anyone had the opportunity to question what had just happened, as he didn’t have much time himself. his boxers had just reached his knees when he fell to the ground, hand working furiously towards his own orgasm.

“seeing me jack off in front of atiny got you that hard?”

“shut up. god, please.”

“dude look at you. any longer and you were gonna come in your fucking pants.”

yeosang started in retort before the words get caught in his throat. they both knew yunho wasnt exactly incorrect, and in many respects, yeosang probably looked more pathetic down there on the floor than yunho had sitting naked as fuck on their chair.

“FUCK.” yeosang’s stomach contracted reflexively, his orgasm overtaking him in powerful waves. he felt the warmth of semen dripping down his fingers.

“you are such an idiot, bro.” yunho’s voice was much closer than where yeosang last recalled him to be. he tried to calm himself down, his chest eventually settling back into its normal breathing rhythm. when he opened his eyes, yunho was dabbing at the carpet in front of him with his towel.

“the smell is going to be a bitch to clean out.”

yeosang exhaled, “says the person cleaning it with an ass sweat towel…”

yunho considered yeosang’s remark for a brief moment before tossing the towel back towards their laundry pile. they figured it would be best for seonghwa to handle it.

(end)

A/N: the poll work is still coming! this was inspired by a twitter post that i just cant seem to let go of. thanks for reading 🙏

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strawberry-bubblef · 2 days ago

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Scarabia x zaunite reader

Request by anonymous: Maybe how about a headcanons with Yuu who is born and raised in Zaun? Most importantly how would cast reacts to Zaun's environment once Yuu trusts them enough to tell about it? (Or maybe cast would see for themselves somehow?)

Synopsis: You have always kept your past a secret, but as their relationships deepen, the truth about Zaun slowly unravels. A city of smog, struggle, and survival far from the world of NRC. How will their lover react to the harsh reality Yuu once called home? And more importantly, can they bring comfort to the one who endured it all?

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: ⚠Mentions of poverty, crime, substance abuse (shimmer), survival struggles, and environmental pollution. The setting of Zaun includes themes of danger, societal disparity, and rough living conditions. Reader's past involves hardships, but the story focuses on comfort, understanding, and romance.⚠

Heartslabyul,Savanaclaw ,Octavinelle,Scarabia Pomifiore, Ignhyde,Diasominia

Since you didn't specify her past,I'm just gonna assume that she's an orphan like 99% of the Zaunite cast.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim had always thought the world was a bright and beautiful place.

Sure, he knew there were dangers,Jamil had told him as much, over and over. But Kalim was lucky. He had a home full of warmth, a family that cared for him, and more wealth than he could ever need.

And then he met you.

You were different.

You laughed with him, joked with him, cared about him but there was always something just under the surface. Something that made your smiles feel guarded.

And Kalim didn’t get it.

At first, he thought maybe you were just shy. Maybe you needed time to open up.

So he waited.

But even after you started trusting him, even after you let him hold you close and steal kisses between classes, that something never fully went away.

And it bothered him.

Not because he was upset at you,no, never! He just… wanted to help.

But he didn’t know how.

Until, one night, you finally told him the truth.

A city full of smoke and metal, where people fought just to live. Where the rich looked down from their towers while the poor choked on the fumes below.

Where you had grown up, struggling every day to survive.

And Kalim?

He froze.

Not because he didn’t believe you,no, he did. But because he had never imagined that you were having this kind of life.

And it hurt.

Because all this time, you had smiled at him, comforted him, loved him,while carrying that.

He felt stupid.

All his life, he had never gone hungry. Never feared for his life. Never even thought about what it would be like to grow up with nothing.

And yet… here you were.

His love.

His everything.

You had suffered, and he had never even noticed.

“…Kalim?”

He flinched, realizing he had been silent for too long. You were watching him, your face unreadable.

His heart ached.

How many times had people turned away from you after learning the truth?

He hated that thought.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He grabbed you,held you tight.

“Kalim—?”

“I’m sorry.” His voice wavered. “I… I never knew.”

You sighed. “Kalim, it’s not your fault-”

“But I should have known! I should have asked! I should have realized-”

You shook your head. “No, you shouldn’t have. It’s not something people think about unless they’ve been there.”

Kalim clenched his fists. That was exactly the problem.

He had never thought about it.

But now? Now he would.

And when the chance finally came to visit Zaun, he took it without hesitation.

Jamil tried to stop him, of course.

“This is a terrible idea.”

But Kalim just grinned. “It’ll be fine, Jamil!”

(It was not fine.)

The moment he stepped into Zaun, the reality hit him like a sandstorm.

The air was thick,wrong. It burned his throat, made his head spin. He wasn’t used to the smell of metal and chemicals, the weight of the smog hanging in the air.

The streets were crowded, but not in a lively way. People moved quickly, eyes sharp, shoulders tense.

And the children

Kalim’s stomach twisted.

Thin arms. Hollow eyes. Clothes barely holding together.

And this,this was your home?

Kalim felt sick.

And then he saw you.

You stood beside him, relaxed in a way you never were at NRC.

You knew these streets. Knew these people.

You belonged here.

And yet, Kalim hated that you had ever needed to belong in a place like this.

You must have noticed his expression, because you nudged him lightly. “I told you not to come.”

“I wanted to.”

You raised a brow. “And?”

Kalim hesitated.

Then, he squeezed your hand

And smiled.

“…You’re amazing.”

You blinked. “What?”

Kalim squeezed your hand tighter. “You grew up here, in a place like this,but you’re still you. You’re still strong, still kind, still incredible.”

Your breath hitched.

Kalim wasn’t stupid. He saw the way you tensed, the way your eyes darted away.

No one had ever told you that before, had they?

Well.

He’d change that.

From now on, he’d tell you every day.

Kalim beamed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love you, you know that?”

You groaned, but you hugged him back. “…Yeah. I know.”

“Good! Because I’m never gonna stop saying it!”

You laughed softly. “I figured.”

Kalim grinned.

No matter what, he’d make sure you never felt alone again.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had grown up knowing what it meant to be trapped.

His entire life had been dictated by duty, expectations, and the ever-present weight of servitude.

But your life?

It was something he couldn’t have imagined.

At first, he didn’t press. He knew what it was like to keep secrets, to hold your past close because trust wasn’t something freely given.

So he waited.

And when you finally told him?

He listened.

Zaun.

A city of smog and shadows. Where survival was a battle, and the strong didn’t protect the weak,they exploited them.

Where you had learned to fight, to hide, to survive.

Jamil didn’t react right away.

He just sat there, absorbing every word.

And then he said, quietly—

“…It must have been exhausting.”

You blinked.

No pity. No shock. Just understanding.

Like he knew what it was like to wake up every day and feel like the world was against you.

Because he did.

No, his struggles weren’t the same as yours. But the feeling of being trapped, of having to fight for every bit of freedom?

That, he understood.

Jamil didn’t ask if you were okay.

That would have been insulting.

Instead, he said, “You shouldn’t have had to live like that.”

And then-

“…But I’m glad you survived.”

You weren’t sure why, but that made your chest ache.

After that, Jamil changed.

He watched more closely. Took note of the way you reacted to things. How you scanned a room for exits. How you tensed at sudden noises.

He didn’t comment on it.

But he started doing things differently.

Subtle things.

Like making sure you always had an escape route.

Like handing you food without making a big deal out of it because he knew pride wouldn’t let you ask.

And then, one day, when the opportunity to visit Zaun came up,

You hesitated.

Jamil didn’t.

“I’m going with you.”

You frowned. “Jamil, you hate leaving things to chance.”

“Exactly.” His gaze was sharp. “And I don’t trust this place.”

You snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

But you let him come.

And the moment he stepped foot in Zaun

He understood.

The air was thick. Chemical-laced, sharp in a way that made his lungs burn.

The people watchful, wary, moving like they were always expecting a knife in their back.

Jamil felt the weight of the city pressing down on him, a suffocating mix of tension and decay.

And this—this—was the world you had grown up in?

He clenched his jaw.

No wonder you never let your guard down.

As you led him through the streets, Jamil walked close. Not obviously protective, but—

You noticed.

“Relax.” You nudged him. “I know my way around.”

Jamil’s eyes flickered to the shadows. “That’s what worries me.”

You smirked. “What, afraid someone’s gonna steal me?”

Jamil didn’t answer right away.

Then he mumbles quietly

“…I wouldn’t let them.”

Your breath hitched.

Jamil wasn’t the type to say things outright.

But you knew what he meant.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Not here. Not anywhere.

And later, when you sat together on a rusted rooftop, watching the city lights flicker through the smog.

Jamil spoke again.

“You don’t have to go back.”

You turned to him. “What?”

Jamil’s gaze was steady.

“You’re not trapped anymore.” His voice was soft but firm. “You have a choice now.”

You swallowed.

A choice.

How long had it been since anyone had told you that?

Jamil reached for your hand.

And for the first time in a long time.

You believed him.

English is not my first language.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderlands headcanon #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x arcane #arcane #arcane headcanon #scarabia x reader #Scarabia #kalim al asim #twst kalim #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader

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pb5luvr · 2 days ago

Text

friends?

a/n: i decided to change up my usual pazzi stuff and do paige x reader so let me know if you guys like these too. also sorry for the late post…also also my fan is making crazy noises and i can’t sleep without it im gonna throw hands

content: paige x reader, friends to lovers kinda, unspoken feelings

2nd POV

you and paige were typical best friends. kind of. you talked for hours like friends. laughed your asses off like friends. hung out like friends. knew everything about each other like friends.

except you also cuddled, cried in paige’s arms as she held you, had a drawer of just paige’s clothes and an extra toothbrush of hers in your apartment, listened to her rant as you ran fingers through her hair as…friends.

you were hiding something though. you started to think that you were in love with paige. scratch that, you knew it. the bad thing is, paige was showing no signs of feeling the same way.

you had just finished a long day of classes and were utterly exhausted, longing for literally any bed to lay in. knowing that paige’s apartment was closer than yours, you opted to taking the familiar route to her place where you knew, by this time, she’d probably be sitting in her bed or on the couch, looking at her phone.

as you reached her apartment, you fiddled with your keys, finding the one for paige’s apartment on your keychain. it was like second nature that you decided to crash at paige’s for the night instead of walking back to the comfort of your own apartment. somehow, paige’s was just a little more comforting.

walking through the door, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag. as you walked towards her bedroom, you heard the faint sound of stupid videos being played from her phone, just as you thought. not even bothering to knock, you pushed the door open and trudged towards her bed. sensing your presence, she finally looked up from her phone. she smiled when she saw you, something that made your heart flutter every time, but her expression quickly changed when she noticed the exhaustion wiped on your face.

“what’s up baby?” she asked like it was normal, normal to call your best friend baby. it was normal for you two, she’d call you pet names all the time, but every time she did it, you felt a warmth grow in your stomach.

as you continued to make your way over to her, she opened her arms for you to fall into.

“just classes kicking my butt” you responded, melting into her embrace and falling onto her bed

“i’m sorry” she said softly as she started rubbing up and down your back, “you sleeping here tonight?”

“yeah” you said as you lifted your head up from her chest, “is that ok?”

“always” she gave a soft smile, letting you out of her embrace to start doing your nightly routine

you fished some clothes out of the drawer and brushed your teeth and washed your face in her bathroom. as she went back to scrolling on her phone, you couldn’t help but wonder. how did she not feel the same things as you? you act like a couple all the time yet, she showed no signs of wanting to be official. how could you continue being her “best friend” if she always gave you butterflies?

you made your way back to her bed, the left side, or as she called it “your side”. you have a designated side of her bed and you aren’t a couple? ok yeah that’s totally normal. the two of you didn’t exchange many words, she knew you too well than to ask any questions she already knew the answer to. you both just sat in a comfortable silence, scrolling mindlessly.

suddenly, you sighed deeply and put your phone down. mirroring your actions, she also sighed deeply and put her phone down. you stared at her, brows furrowed and she stared at you, brows furrowed.

“whatcha thinking ‘bout?” she questioned, pushing a piece of hair out of your face

“…nothing” you responded softly

“y/n i can see right through you, what’s on your mind?” she asked, genuinely wondering

and then, you cracked.

“i just can’t keep doing this paige” you started

“doing what?” her brow twitched up

“doing,” your hand waved around, “whatever this is. i can’t keep listening to you call me pet names or cuddle with me while acting like we’re just friends. spoiler alert, friends don’t do that stuff paige. i can’t keep pretending like your actions don’t give me butterflies. i- i love you paige god i’m in love with you and i can’t keep pretending like i’m not. i can’t keep acting like this with you if you don’t feel the same way”

paige was silent.

“fuck i’m sorry i didn’t mean to say that” you apologized suddenly, “god i can’t believe i said that-”

“stop y/n. don’t apologize. you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to say the same thing. i was so scared that you didn’t feel the same way. i didn’t want to ruin anything we had because no one has ever made me feel like i do when i’m with you and-” you cut her off by smashing your lips into hers

paige’s breath hitched. she kissed you back, hungrier. her hands instantly cupped your face. it’s as if you poured the rest of your emotions into that one kiss. something you could never explain. you kissed her until your lungs burned and you were practically gasping for air.

as you pulled away, just for a second, you stared deeply into each other.

“god” paige whispered, “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for that to happen” as she attached her lips back onto yours

#paige #paige bueckers #paige x reader #paige buckets #paige blockers

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pneumaticshift · 2 days ago

Note

so first of all i REALLY love your batlantern fics. i love both bruce and hal's voices so much and think that their interactions are INCREDIBLY funny

second of all i have a request for you! hal gets injured protecting dickbin. (maybe dick snuck into an invasion when he was told to stay behind. maybe he and bruce got separated.) however it happens hal saves his life but gets very injured in the process. dickbin feels guilty about this and hasn't left his bedside since. meanwhile hal going to such lengths for his ward has awoken Feelings ™ in bruce

Heyyy, sorry this took so long. I've been unhealthly playing DC Dark Legion and it's ruining my creativity. I am aware of the problem and have done nothing to fix it. This was surprisingly hard to write. I had so much I wanted to add, but I didn't want to make too long for a Tumblr oneshot. Thank you for the prompt 💚💚 Hope you like it! ———

Dick disobeyed, so now Bruce ran.

The Watchtower had never felt all that big to him. He designed it specifically to be easily traversable. Function over grandeur, strategy over spectacle. There had been a few choice comments from the others in the Spartan decor, but every hallway had its purpose and every chamber was an answer to a problem that needed to be solved.

The path from the transport hub to the infirmary was especially built to be the shortest path on the station. It was direct and unbroken, just a simple corridor without indulgence or opportunity for confusion. Bruce had walked it enough times to know exactly how many steps it took to get there. Eighty-three at full stride, seventy-four if he was running. Right now, he was running.

By now, in the aftermath of days on the field, he should have been back at the manor. He should have been in the cave, reviewing all the footage and data extrapolated from the mission so he could cross-reference data, log the variables, and review the structural damage to the cities they’d saved. Every detail, no matter how insignificant, meant that more lives could be saved next time. Because there had been — casualties, that is. Names he didn’t know. Faces he hadn’t seen. Deaths that didn’t belong to him.

And after all that, he should have been dealing with Dick the day he always did. Quiet conversations that never really said what he meant, despite how hard he tried. He would’ve justified himself in a way that left no room for argument, like a guardian was supposed to do when they were protecting their ward. It wasn’t your fight, I needed you in Gotham, it was too dangerous.

Leaving him behind had been the right thing to do. The mission had outstripped caution in the first ten minutes. An Omega-level threat, with casualties stacking up before the League had even breached the city. Dick may have been forced to grow up far too soon, but he was still just a child. Reckless, brilliant, irreplaceable. Bruce wasn’t about to risk the best thing in his life.

But now there was blood on the Zeta-pad.

Just a smear. Half-wiped, like someone had tried to clean it up with the toe of their shoe before giving up. It trailed into the corridor, then into nothing. Usually, Bruce wasn’t one to make assumptions. He was far too clever a man to let postulation guide him in any matter, but logic always had its limits, and fear didn’t care about them. Not when his ward — when his son was on the line.

He hadn’t known that Dick was on the field. He had, perhaps naïvely, thought that Dick would have actually adhered to Bruce’s warnings this time. It was so, so dangerous, and no amount of late nights fighting street-level crime in Gotham could change the fact that he wasn’t ready.

Word had come over the comms. J’onn and Kal were relaying relevant data from air support while Bruce had been leading the debrief with Diana for the ground team. He had been half-listening, consolidating data absently as background noise.

It was J’onn who said it. “We intercepted an unidentified minor trying to help. Young, caped. His mind is unusually strong…” he said. “Injuries unknown. I was compelled to transfer him to the infirmary. He was quite distressed—”

That was lal Bruce needed to hear. He cut himself off mid-sentence and immediately turned to literally run to the nearest Zeta-Tube. Diana had called out to him in confusion, but he barely heard her. Though, her confusion probably made sense. He’d been with the League for two years now, and the only thing anyone actually knew about him was his dedication to the cause. To see him leave the aftermath to sort out itself probably would raise questions he’d definitely avoid later.

Dick was almost thirteen now. He’d been by Bruce’s side for almost four years, had been Robin for three, and even though he was the cleverest, most wonderful tween Bruce had ever known, he was still an entirely unknown entity to the League. Bruce had no intention of changing that.

Which brought him to the here and now, coming up to the infirmary with his heart in his throat and his pulse rocketing a little too quickly for his tastes.

The doors hissed open and he didn’t wait. He pushed through before they’d finished parting completely, shoulder-checking the frame on his way in. He barely registered it, fully expecting to see his little boy all laid up. And, incidentally, fully preparing to never forgive himself for letting it happen.

But it didn’t happen.

Dick was there, certainly, but he wasn’t the invalid Bruce had been half-ready for. Instead, he was slumped forward in a plastiform chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his little head bowed like the weight of the world was keeping him down. He was still in his suit, even though Bruce had locked it up when he left him behind in Gotham. It was torn at the shoulder and streaked with soot.

“Robin,” Bruce called. His voice was lower and far more curt than he intended. He was never good at expressing himself, so the relief fell somewhere behind the tight press of his lips and the furrow of his brow.

It was hard to catch Dick off guard, but he startled at the noise. His shoulders jumped and he snapped his head up fast enough to make the chair creak. He turned abruptly towards Bruce, half-standing at attention without pulling himself out of his chair, and he looked at him with eyes wide beneath his askew mask.

His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out at first. He looked…wrong. Upset, like those first few months in the manor, or the time around the anniversary of the Flying Graysons’ final performance. His cheeks were flushed and blotchy and his nose was half-running like he’d been crying.

“B,” he said in a broken voice.

Instead of rushing towards his child with his arms outstretched like he was supposed to, Bruce stood frozen at the door to automatically take in the scene. Relief had flooded him enough to reboot him back to his factory settings, and he was suddenly thinking about how hasty he’d been to get here.

But even though he should head on back and finish the debrief like he was supposed to, he stayed exactly where he was in a weird purgatory of emotion.

Dick was curled in on himself like he didn’t know how to proceed. Ash was still smudged across his jaw and there was a thin line of blood beneath his ear. His mouth was trembling slightly, like he was still trying to be brave. He was good at that. Being brave. Better than Bruce had ever been.

That was when Bruce noticed Hal. He probably should’ve noticed him far sooner, given his condition.

The Lantern lay unconscious on the medical berth. His chest was bandaged up and his face pale under the sicky cast of the overhead lights, but his ring was pulsing faintly. Whatever the medical staff had done to keep him stabilised had nothing on the energy channeling into the weave of healing fields wrapped around him.

Bruce let himself be concerned for half a second. The monitors were stable and Hal was alive. Not in the best condition Bruce had ever seen him in, but not the worst either. Right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Dick was as close to the bedside as the chair allowed, which was strange. He’d never been formally introduced to the League. In fact, the only person who actually knew about his existence was Kal, and that was just because the man had pushed his nose into Gotham’s business and Dick was a fan. (A few threats and promises later, and Kal had assured Bruce that he wouldn’t tell anyone — he had, however, tried to convince Bruce to at least tell Diana. Bruce was considering it.)

For as much as he was slowly beginning to trust the League, Hal was the person Bruce had the least rapport with. It was a matter of simple incompatibility and Bruce wasn’t exactly inclined to do anything to remedy it. Some people just didn’t get along, and he couldn’t foresee himself ever doing so with Hal Jordan.

It didn’t mean he wanted to see the Lantern hurt, but it was undeniably weird that Dick, after all the rants he’d heard when Bruce was particularly pissed off with Hal’s general existence, would set up camp by his bedside. His knees were bumping the frame and one hand hung loosely over the edge, like it had started to reach for Hal at some point and just stopped midway.

Yes, it was weird, but Bruce was always good at connecting the dots. He could see it now in the way Dick wouldn’t look at Hal directly. He just kept glancing over at him, furtive and quiet and just a hint of shame. He could see it in the way his lips pressed together to keep them from trembling and the way his feet hadn’t moved but his leg was bouncing nervously.

Whatever had happened that made Dick like this, it probably meant that Bruce had to thank Hal.

Now that he knew Dick was safe, Bruce’s instinctive reaction was to order a report. It would be easier to depersonalise the situation if he framed it like another mission, and Bruce was usually very, very good at separating his complicated personal feelings from the here and now. But, every now and again, very rarely so, Bruce actually knew when not to put The Mission first.

He let out a slow, grounding breath, and came up beside Dick. “Talk to me,” he said as softly as he could. Which wasn’t very soft at all, but Dick had been with him long enough now to be able to tell the difference.

“I didn’t—” Dick swallowed hard and curled his fingers into the edge of Hal’s bed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Are you hurt?”

Dick shook his head. “No. I mean— I’m scuffed, I guess. Elbow. Nothing bad.” His voice was tight. His gaze flicked sideways toward Bruce, then back to Hal, then down at his own boots like he was ashamed of all three. “I shouldn’t have come,” he added, even softer now. “You told me not to, and he— Green Lantern, he—”

“We’ll talk about that,” Bruce said. “Later.” Not a dismissal, not forgiveness. Just…later. He looked back at Hal. “Tell me what happened, chum.”

He never wanted Dick to be nervous around him, but something visibly unfurled around the boy when the term of endearment slipped out. Dick sniffed and went to wipe his eyes. He was still wearing his domino and the mask displaced even more when he tried to rub away the moisture beginning to brim. Bruce couldn’t see the tears, not behind the mask. He knew they were there, though.

“I thought I could help,” Dick muttered. “I tracked the signal. I saw you were on the ground team, and when the alerts came in, the ones from the orbital relay—” He broke off, shaking his head like the words were too heavy to push out. “I knew it was big. But I thought if I just— if I was careful, then I’d—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. His hand stayed near Hal’s arm, fingers hovering just above the blanket like he didn’t know if he was allowed to hold on.

“I didn’t know he was gonna—” Another pause. Another broken thread of sound. “I didn’t think it’d go that wrong.”

This was a learning experience for him, Bruce thought. He hated that it was one of the first things that came to mind, especially when his kid was looking so vulnerable and when one of his coworkers was unconscious.

“He saved you,” he said rather than asked.

Dick nodded and Bruce looked at him a little longer before turning to look at Hal. Really looked at him, for perhaps the first time since they met. He made himself stop calculating vitals and injury ratio, and he stopped parsing the rhythm of the machines for signs of decline of recovery. He hadn’t even realised he had been doing all of that until he forced himself to stop.

Even though he never thought much of Hal, he also knew — had always known — that he would’ve done anything to save a kid. And clearly he had. No ring could fake that level of duty. No construct could fabricate what Bruce saw now in the aftermath: a Lantern lying half-broken, unconscious and quiet for once, because he had chosen to step in when Bruce couldn’t. And the fact that it was his kid, his Dickie…

Oh, that was a problem. Bruce felt something brand new twist hard in his chest. Something with sharp edges and raw heat, something that crawled under his ribs and tried to claw its way out through bone. Gratitude didn’t come easy to him. Guilt did. Both were now crashing into him in silent tandem, buried deep where no one could see.

There was something a little more too, just the sparks of something even harder to name. Not affection, not exactly, but something annoyingly near it. It felt complicated and raw, tangled up in this image of Hal, broken and still, and Dick sitting beside him like he was the most important person here.

Bruce acknowledged it, then ignored it. He set it down in the place in his mind where he buried everything else that threatened to make him feel too much, too fast. Later, when Hal woke up, he would thank him properly. Dick would want to, too. Probably as Dick, and not as Robin. That was something to think about later, though.

“What did the medical staff say?” he asked.

Dick sniffed once and rubbed the heel of his palm against his nose like he used to when he first came to the manor. “They said he stabilised fast,” he replied. “The ring did most of the work before we even got here. They— uh…I had to give them your access code so they’d let me stay. They tried to kick me out ‘cause I don’t have clearance. Um. Sorry…”

Another thing to worry about later, but not Bruce’s immediate concern. He gave Dick his access codes for a reason. Something like this was always going to happen. “They think he’ll wake up soon?”

“Yeah…’cause the ring, and all.” Dick shifted in the chair, arms pulled in tight to his chest, like he was trying to make himself smaller. “Can I stay, B? Just for a little while?”

It was against protocol, Bruce thought, but…well…

“Move over,” Bruce said. Dick blinked for a moment, then scrambled out of the chair like he was responding to an order on the field. He hovered for a second, uncertain, until Bruce sat down in his place. The kid didn’t need another invitation.

He climbed into Bruce's lap like he had a hundred times before — back when he was smaller, younger, and it was less embarrassing for a kid to seek comfort. Back when his limbs didn’t dangle awkwardly over the sides, when he could curl up tight and disappear into the fold of the cape like it was a hidey-hole.

Lately, he'd been pulling away from those kinds of childish interactions as best he could. He was coming up on his teen years. Trying to be taller than he was. Braver. Older. He didn’t lean on Bruce the way he used to. Not in public, at least. Not even at home unless he was half-asleep or had forgotten he wasn’t supposed to need it anymore.

Now, he pulled the cape around himself, tucked his head beneath Bruce’s chin, and sighed out one long, shaky breath.

Bruce didn’t know how long they sat there, but it was long enough for the ring to finish its preliminaries. He had sent a message to Alfred at some point, brief but clear: We’re safe. I’ll explain soon. He knew the old man would read between the lines, hear everything that wasn’t written.

He had also dropped a locked ping on the League comms, redirecting anyone trying to enter the infirmary. No visitors. Not right now. Which was probably a dick move.

Oliver and Barry would’ve come by. Maybe even some of the other Lanterns, if they managed to get wind of what happened. Hal had friends. People who gave a damn. People better than Bruce who would want to see him and make sure he was still breathing.

But Bruce didn’t want anyone else in this room, not while Dick was still sleeping and not while Bruce was still figuring out what he was supposed to do when Hal woke up.

And he did eventually wake up. The combination of the ring’s healing propities, coupled with the medical staff’s expertise meant that injuries of this nature didn’t keep a man down for long. Bruce was also half-certain that the ring was starting to affect Hal’s actual nervous system, so he always healed a little quicker than most.

The infirmary lights had dimmed into their night cycle at some point, so Bruce didn’t catch the exact moment Hal woke up. One second, the room was still. The next, he caught movement — barely a twitch from the bed, then a sharp intake of breath.

“Goddamn,” Hal muttered from the bed. “Either I died and you're here to collect, or this is some kind of fever dream.”

“Lantern,” Bruce greeted. “Stay down.”

“Screw that, I’m fine.”

Hal immediately tried to sit up, because he was one of the most stubborn bastards Bruce had ever met. The attempt lasted all of two seconds before he winced hard and flopped back down like the bed had sucker punched him .Bruce didn’t move to stop him.

Partly because he knew Hal was too stubborn to listen anyway, but mostly because Dick was still bundled under the cape, tucked close to Bruce’s chest, dead asleep. The kid didn’t even stir at the commotion. He just mumbled something unintelligible and curled in tighter, frowning slightly in his sleep.

Hal caught the movement and froze.

“Batman…what are you doing under your cape right now?”

Bruce gave him the flattest look. Without a word, he lifted the edge of the cape.

“Oh my god,” Hal breathed. Dick was out cold, his cheek pressed against Bruce’s chest, one hand still clinging loosely to the edge of the cape like he thought someone might try to take it from him. “Nobody’s ever gonna believe me.”

Huffing out something that may have resembled a laugh if Hal looked too deep into it, Bruce let the cape drop and readjusted his grip around his son.

“Robin,” Bruce said simply.

“...I’m gonna assume that’s his name and not just you being all cryptic and weird.” Hal flopped his head back on the pillow and glared at Bruce. “That your kid?”

“Hm.”

“The hell was he doing in the field, Batman?”

Bruce didn’t respond to that. He didn’t owe Hal anything. Or, maybe he did. After what happened, after what Hal had done without even knowing who he was protecting, maybe Bruce did owe him a few answers. Maybe more than a few. But Bruce was still Bruce, and words, real ones, always failed him when they didn’t involve strategy, contingencies, or command.

Hal let out a soft breath that turned into a wince. “My bad. Should’ve known you were too much of a douche to actually willingly give out information,” he said. It was an out Bruce was going to take. “He alright?”

“He will be.”

And Hal, flat on his back with half his ribs taped together and a ring flickering dimly at his side, managed a crooked smile. “Good,” he said. “’Cause I don’t think I’ve got another one of those in me.”

“He—” Bruce paused and Hal glanced at him again. “He wanted to wait for you to wake up.”

Hal blinked. Then he looked down, toward the edge of the cape still drawn over Bruce’s front, where the faint rise and fall of breath gave away the shape of a small form nestled beneath. He couldn’t see Dick from his angle, just the dark ripple of fabric and the way Bruce’s arm curled almost imperceptibly around something fragile.

So instead, Hal watched Bruce. And that, Bruce realized, was strange. People didn’t watch him like that. Not when he was still. Not when he wasn’t speaking. They watched for his movements, for orders, for the turn of his head that meant something was about to happen, But Hal looked at him now like he was trying to figure him out.

Bruce didn’t shift under it. Didn’t avert his gaze or curl the cape tighter around him like he wanted to. He simply let the moment stretch between them, unspoken and unguarded, which was even stranger. It was almost disarming.

Then, Hal snorted. “Of course he did. I’m the Green Lantern,” he said. “Kid’s got taste.”

The expected thing to do now would be to engage in conversation. He was supposed to thank Hal, promise to treat him better in the future, and acknowledge that his opinion on him had recently gone up more than Bruce was strictly comfortable with.

It would’ve been easy to stay. Just another hour. Just until Hal drifted off again. But Dick needed real rest in a real bed. He wouldn’t get that in the Watchtower, no matter how long he clung to Bruce’s side.

So Bruce figured he’d overstayed his welcome. Slowly, he gathered the boy closer and stood, the cape keeping Dick cocooned in shadow and warmth. Dick barely stirred, just buried his face instinctively against Bruce’s chest with a small sound of protest before settling again.

He could feel Hal watching him. “Bring him by again sometime,” he said, voice softer now. “Maybe when I’m not half-dead.”

Bruce paused at the door, glanced back. No real promises and no answer. Just a quiet nod. And then he was gone, with a whole new problem brewing in his chest.

#i'm like 50/50 on this #i like and hate it in equal parts #bruce wayne #hal jordan #dick grayson #batlantern #sort of??#answered #sam writes

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sunsetmade · 2 days ago

Text

The Perks of Rafe Cameron

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Having Rafe Cameron as a boyfriend has many different perks or three scenarios about dating Rafe Cameron.

1. Forever Defend and Protect

Rafe strode into the bustling restaurant, his eyes scanning the crowd as he made his way to the bar. He leaned against the counter, letting out a long sigh when he saw he’d have to wait a bit. As he stood there, his gaze shifted out the window, landing on his girlfriend sitting in his truck. Her lips moved and her head swayed to the rhythm of the music, and Rafe couldn’t help but grin, knowing she was singing along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

“Hey, Rafe. How’s it going?” the bartender, Mike, greeted him with a friendly nod. He was another kook, one Rafe had known for a while.

“Hey, Mike, it’s good,” Rafe replied, still watching his girl outside. “Can I get a virgin strawberry daiquiri?” He said it slowly, remembering her order from the last time.

Mike nodded and shifted a little to start pouring the drink. "For your girlfriend, I hope," he said with a chuckle. Rafe’s gaze flicked over to him, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's her favorite," he replied, a hint of warmth in his voice as he thought about her.

Mike gave a casual nod, then hesitated. "You’re still with—" He snapped his fingers, as if struggling to recall her name. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, his smile slowly fading. "Yeah, almost 5 months," he interjected, his tone sharpening. Mike clicked his tongue. "That’s a long time. Honestly, I’m surprised."

Rafe clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as Mike continued, pouring the ingredients into a shaker. "You know, 'cause she's so whimsy and whiny," Mike chuckled, oblivious to the tension building in Rafe. It was clear Mike had no idea that Rafe completely disagreed with him.

Mike finished making the drink and slid it over to Rafe. “Hey, Mike?” Rafe said, a wicked smile curling on his lips. Mike glanced up, wiping the cup as he walked over to the counter and stood in front of him. “Yeah, man?”

Before Mike could say another word, Rafe's hand shot out, gripping the back of his head. With a swift motion, he slammed Mike's face down onto the cold marble counter.

The rest of the restaurant fell silent, all eyes turning toward the commotion. His head was now bleeding from multiple different spots and most likely spilt open. Rafe leaned his head down to where Mike's head rested, his voice cold and menacing. “Don’t ever talk about her like that again.”

And just like that, Rafe grabbed the pink drink from the counter and walked out of the restaurant as people rushed over to Mike. Spotting him with her favorite drink, she immediately smiled and waved from the car. Rafe smirked for a moment, almost forgetting the chaos he had just left behind.

2. Loyalty at All Costs

The party raged on, a blur of loud music, laughter, and clinking bottles. People were everywhere—Kooks, Tourons, even a few Pogues mingling in the chaos. The mansion was packed to the brim, the crowd spilling both inside and out. Some were lounging by the pool, others chatting in tight groups

Rafe Cameron sat on the worn out couch his legs spread while he drank a beer. His expression was stiff, his usual blank stare as he listened to Topper and Kelce argue about something meaningless. But he wasn’t really paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, far from the noise and the crowd. While everyone else was lost in the party, Rafe’s thoughts were consumed with his girlfriend, back at her house.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” Rafe asked, his voice softer than usual, tinged with an almost unrecognizable sadness as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Rafe. I have to study,” she replied, the words making his heart twist. Rafe’s expression faltered, the usual arrogance and cocky confidence slipping away, leaving behind a rare vulnerability. His gaze softened, eyes dark with something deeper than frustration.

“You know you don’t have to go, right?” she whispered, her hands pausing as she searched his face. He sighed, sitting up and pulling her closer. "I have to, baby," he muttered, his voice carrying that familiar edge, but there was a weight behind it. "If I don’t, Topper and Kelce will—shit, I don’t know—probably burn the place down or something." She gave a soft, sad chuckle, her heart sinking at the realization that he was leaving. "I’ll be back soon," Rafe promised, leaning in and kissing her gently, lingering for a moment before pulling away, his face a mask of quiet determination. “Be careful, Rafe.” She smiled. “Always.” He smirked at her making her heart flip.

That’s what had brought him here. Miserable. Rafe sat on the couch, his eyes scanning the chaotic party around him but not really seeing anything. Normally, she’d be with him—laughing, dancing, maybe even just enjoying the chaos together. But not tonight. Now, he was stuck in this stupid house, surrounded by people he didn’t care about, wishing he were anywhere else, with her. He had no idea why he even bothered to show up.

Rafe sighed, pushing himself off the couch. "I’m going to grab another drink," he muttered to Topper and Kelce, who were still bickering. Topper waved him off dismissively, causing Rafe to roll his eyes. Morons.

He made his way to the kitchen, and, to his surprise, it was empty and quiet—exactly what he needed. He crouched down, opening the small cooler on the floor, and pulled out another beer, standing up with a groan. The atmosphere here felt worlds apart from the chaos in the living room. This was the silence he craved.

Rafe’s moment of calm was shattered when a hand landed on his shoulder. He whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he saw a girl, a good foot shorter than him, staring up at him with wide, doe-like eyes. Without thinking, he took a step back, putting distance between them. The girl smiled at him, a little too sweetly. “You’re Rafe, right?”

His face remained stone cold, though he gave her a brief, polite nod. His girlfriend had told him to be nicer, but he wasn’t sure how much “nicer” he was willing to be right now.

The girl blushed at his response, and Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. “Is there something you need?” he asked, his voice guarded and a bit confused. The girl chuckled and placed her hand back on his bicep, but Rafe stiffened instantly, a cold edge to his demeanor. Without hesitation, he pushed her hand off, his gaze sharp.

Flustered, the girl quickly recovered, her smile a little forced. “I just wanted to say... I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. You’re, like, the hottest guy on the island.” Rafe’s expression didn’t change—his focus unwavering, a hint of annoyance flickering behind his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood for this. All he wanted to do was be with his girlfriend snuggled up against her while she studied.

"Sorry, I have a girlfriend," Rafe said, trying to move past her. But she stepped in front of him, blocking his way, a smirk on her face.

"I know," she replied, her voice dripping with confidence. "But she doesn’t have to know. She’s not here."

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temple, his patience wearing thin. "Listen," he said, his tone colder now, "I have a beautiful amazing girlfriend waiting for me at home. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave and go see her. And if I ever see you around her or me again, you won’t like the outcome."

He pushed passed the shocked girl quickly walking out of the house without another word. He hopped in his truck speeding off to the only place he wanted to be.

Rafe quietly unlocked her front door, making sure not to make a sound in case she had already fallen asleep. He moved up the stairs and turned the corner into her room. There she was, sitting on her bed with her hair in a messy bun, books scattered around her. A smile tugged at his lips as he opened the door.

"Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice soft but warm.

Her face instantly lit up. Without a second thought, she jumped into his arms, and Rafe wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

"I missed you so much," he muttered, his voice low.

“Me too," she sighed, her words filled with relief. "I’m so glad you’re back." Rafe pulled away slightly and sat next to her on the bed.

"You won’t believe the night I had," he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Some girl tried to hit on me." She chuckled softly, leaning her head against his shoulder as he spoke. There was no place she’d rather be. And he felt the same.

3. Laughing No Matter What

Surfing with Rafe Cameron was…interesting, to say the least.

The day started off with you and Rafe sitting on the beach, having a, key word- relaxing- day. You were lying on a towel, basking in the warm Outer Banks sun, enjoying the tranquility and working on your tan.

Rafe, however, was sitting nearby in the sand, clearly not sharing your enjoyment. He was pouting, but it wasn’t just the usual boredom, he was experiencing, no—this was the kind of boredom that came with the restless energy of someone who couldn’t sit still for long.

“What’s wrong, Rafe?” I asked, glancing over at him after he let out his 40th frustrated sigh. He turned to look at me, exasperated. “I’m bored out of my mind!” He threw his arms up in the air dramatically, making me laugh. It wasn’t often I saw this side of him—the playful, whiny, and goofy Rafe. I smiled and sat up. “What do you want to do then?” His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, and a confident smirk spread across his face. “Surfing?” he asked, clearly eager for the change of pace.

I matched his smirk. “You’re on, Cameron.” He rolled his eyes, a smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, okay, baby.” We jumped to our feet and raced up the stairs of his house, quickly grabbing our surfboards before rushing back down to the beach.

We waded into the water and started paddling out. “So, what do I get when I win?” Rafe’s voice was full of that confident, challenging tone he always had. I rolled my eyes, sitting up on my board, watching him as he did the same. “The real question is,” I shot back, “what do I get when I win?”

He shot me a smirk, his eyes glinting with that familiar cocky look. "Guess you'll find out soon enough," he said, clearly confident in his chances. I couldn’t help but roll my shoulders, ready to prove him wrong. The waves were picking up, and we both positioned ourselves, the challenge between us hanging in the salty air. "Good luck Rafe!" I smirked, pushing off the water and paddling forward with everything I had.

I paddled forward as the wave developed, it wasn’t a massive wave but it will do. I paddled faster and caught a glimpse of Rafe sitting on his board watching me with a smile . It made my stomach doing a somersault and I momentarily forgot what I was doing.

I stood up on my board, gliding smoothly over the wave. The rush of water and wind made everything else fade away. I focused on the wave, carving through it with ease. As I reached the peak, I saw Rafe watching me from a distance, and it made me push myself even harder. I finished the wave surfing over to where he sat motionless in the water.

"Like what you saw?" I laughed, watching Rafe. He rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Eh, it was decent," he shrugged, clearly unfazed.

"Okay, go ahead, Mr. Hotshot," I teased, grinning.

Rafe cracked his knuckles, his usual cocky confidence shining through, before he swam out to meet the huge wave rising ahead. I paddled to the side, watching him get ready to take it on. As he stood up, the wave crashed down, and in a split second, it wiped him out, sending him tumbling off his board. I gasped, then burst out laughing.

I clung to my board, still gasping for air between bursts of laughter. Rafe swam over to me, his expression already telling me he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he saw the grin I was struggling to hold back.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and my laughter burst out. I covered my mouth, trying to quiet myself, but the look Rafe was giving me only made it worse. In an instant, his smirk was back, and with one swift move, he knocked his board into mine, sending me splashing into the water. I squealed, resurfacing to find him laughing uncontrollably. Clinging to his board, I shot him an unimpressed glare. "Baby, you should've seen your face," he chuckled, and I just stared at him, clearly not amused.

“Big talk for a guy who just ate shit on a wave.”

#outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfics #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #rafe cameron #surfing #rafe fluff

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userluhna · 2 days ago

Text

UNSPOKEN WORDS

hwang junho x f!reader

first part! | next part!

words: 1.7k

warnings: a bit emotional, junho needs a hug:( english isn’t my first language, grammar mistakes!

a/n: just let me know what you want to this for this fiction or just in general. i can do headcanons, about other characters or this fiction. my requests are open!

enjoy :)

—

it has been two months since you saw junho again. it was mid-may, and your birthday was close. he came by your coffee shop multiple times during the week, often when you closed, so you could go back home together. sometimes, he came by in the early afternoon, with soft rays of sun on his face and that angelic smile of his.

he always accompanied you to your apartment, petting your cat, sitting on the couch with a glass of water or a cup of tea. he always looked so tired but stayed anyway. he wanted to talk to you, he needed to. you did, too. his eyes were so dark, you knew they hid something deeper, something unspoken. he sometimes stayed a bit longer than usual, not necessarily to have deep conversations, but because “it’s so cozy here,” as he often said.

you exchanged silent glances throughout the evening. sometimes, the room was filled with laughter or memories of your days in england. he, however, didn’t have much to say. after inho’s disappearance, he spent the past nine years looking for him. he had few relationships, which didn’t last long because “i wasn’t there enough,” he’d say with a pinch of guilt in his voice. you knew that junho tried to be good, to be better in a relationship. you had seen it.

you shared your worries about your work. your café was doing great, but you needed to repay your loan, which was quite high.

“you know i can help,” he had said to you so many times.

sometimes, you would teach him new words in english or other languages you’d hear on your campus. “come on! you’re cheating, you don’t even have an accent!”

going back to korea made you so afraid. you left your big sister in scotland and had to go back alone. you had promised. “the first time i landed, it felt weird that no one was there for me, waiting,” you admitted one night. but it was your fault. “it also felt weird going back to a place that carries so many memories and traumatic experiences at the same time.” junho grimaced, fully understanding what had happened.

that one night, he stayed a bit longer than usual. it was 12:30 a.m. “you know that i feel guilty for not coming back earlier,” you spoke softly, bringing your cup of tea to your lips.

“knew that,” he said, resting his head on the pillow as he lay down on your sofa. you were sitting across from him in your comfy chair. “you always say sorry.”

“i truly am,” you said, looking at him. “not texting you, not calling you, and not seeing you. it wasn’t cool at all. i thought maybe you were just doing fine.”

junho let out a quiet scoff, his eyes still on the ceiling. “fine? you really thought that?”

“yeah, i mean–” you paused, not sure what to say anyway. “i didn’t call, text, or try to see either. you can’t blame only yourself, you know that, right?”

“i know, but–” you adjusted yourself, sitting up straighter in your chair. “i should’ve checked on you, on inho.”

his name seemed to echo in your apartment. it felt weird, even though you’d said it before. junho’s jaw clenched, and you saw it. he said nothing, resting the back of his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes. “you can sleep here tonight, i’m closed tomorrow so you can sleep in. i won’t wake you up.”

he smiled and looked at you. “i’m okay,” he said, closing his eyes again. “just need to rest these eyes.”

“yeah, sure,” you stood up, placing your cup on the small table between the two of you. you grabbed a blanket and placed it over him. he took your hand once it was close enough to his face. “thank you,” he murmured. “i still think about us, you know.”

“i know, junho. i do too.” you both knew it. you kneeled down next to him, your free hand hesitant but finding his cheek as he held the other in his hand. “you need to rest, i don’t know what you do all day but i’ve never seen you this fatigued.”

“i’m looking for him,” his voice cracked a little. you could feel it, all the pain, the frustration he carried. “i can’t stop, y/n.”

“i know,” you murmured. your thumb tracing soft circles on his cheek. “you’re doing your best, sweetheart.” your words hit him like a punch in the stomach. you felt a single tear leave his eyes, which neither he nor you bothered to wipe away. his eyebrows frowned, holding back more tears. his usually confident, tall frame cracked that night. he couldn’t help it.

you placed a soft kiss on his forehead. the warmth of your kiss almost burned the coldness of his body. “you’re okay, i’m here now, i’m sorry,” you murmured against his skin.

he said nothing, just held your hand tighter.

“i’m so sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. “i should’ve been there.” you pressed your forehead against his, eyes shut. his hand moved to your back, holding you hesitant at first, afraid he might hurt you but still firm as if you would fade away if he didn’t.

the two of you said nothing and just held each other in silence for a moment. you didn’t know how long, but as you pulled away, he sighed.

“sleep here tonight, okay? i want to know that you’re near.”

“okay, i’ll stay here,” he said so quietly that you questioned whether he had just fallen asleep in the seconds that followed. “good,” you said, standing up. you turned off the light and made your way to your bed.

you could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours as you lay down, holding onto your blanket. you could hear the soft hum of the fridge that filled the silence of your small apartment. you didn’t close the door to your bedroom that night, too afraid he might go while you were sleeping, and you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

tonight, junho wanted to say more, but he couldn’t. he tried, but the words didn’t come as easily as they did when you were younger, comforting each other. maybe tonight, it was enough. but it made him afraid — afraid he might not know how to take care of you, how to comfort you.

afraid you might slip away.

again.

#hwang jun ho x reader #hwang junho x reader #hwang junho #hwang jun ho #squid game x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game headcanons

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