#tell him everything he needs to hear like he told you everything YOU needed to hear!!!!!!!!!!!!

[gyaruhana]

I am in desperate need for more 001 / the front man fics TwT

Could the plot be : when 456 and others try to take over the controls room (last ep), 001 protects her from the guards ( or told the guards over the radio to not attack the player) thank you!

Hwang In-ho/Front Man - Favorites

Synopsis: In-ho decides you don't deserve to die so he makes sure you survive.

A/N: sorry if this is rushed i am trying to get so many other fics done now too !!

Warnings: none

Perhaps this whole mission was a really stupid idea. The sounds of gunshots rang through your ears as you listened to the yells of everyone else who had made the decision to help. You were starting to regret your own decision of taking a gun and choosing to help just because Young-il was going. You’d probably die here honestly. There just seemed to be a never-ending plethora of those guards running through and shooting at you and you couldn’t help but start to panic. 

Fuck, maybe you should just turn around and pretend like you were never a part of this poor attempt at a takeover. You weren't ready to die. Not today, not tomorrow, not even a decade from now. You just had to hold the fort down a little longer though. Just until Gi-hun and Jung-bae make it to the control room. You could wait that out. It wouldn’t take that long. At least, you kept telling yourself that. That everything was okay when it really wasn’t.

You took a deep breath before raising your gun and shooting at some of the guards from behind the pillar. Unfortunately for you, you quickly ran out of ammo making you pull back with a quiet curse. You shove your hands into your pockets to see if you had any more only to realize you’re out of ammo now. “Shit! I’m out,” you say as you look at the others and put your gun down next to you. 

“I’m almost out too,” Hyun-Ju spoke and the others seemed to have a nervous look on their faces - a clear sign they were quickly running out of ammo too. You leaned your head back as you closed your eyes and tried to breathe. All you could think about now was how you were definitely going to die here. You shouldn’t have tried to play hero. You should’ve stayed out of this so you could leave here in one piece and with a fuck ton of won. You were too lost in your fear to hear what the others were saying now and also too panicked to notice Young-il’s eyes on you.

He’d hate to admit it but seeing you like that made him feel guilty. He was annoyed at himself for lowering his guard so much and catching feelings for you when he really shouldn’t have. It was too complicated to fall for you when you were just a player, totally unaware that he was going to betray you all before Gi-hun even got close to the control room. If life was perfect, he would’ve taken you with him but he knew you’d never forgive him if you knew who he really was. 

It was then when he looked at the fear on your face did he decide you were not going to die here. Not in these twisted games he ran. You didn’t deserve death and, admittedly, he cared about you too much now to let you die. His focus on you was broken when Jung-bae started talking through the radio announcing that they believed they were right beneath the control room but needed more ammo and backup if they were going to make it.

“Did you hear that? They need backup!” he yells out as he looks to the others. “Three of us will go, the others will stay! Join us when you get the magazines!” he continued to yell through the loud echo of the bullets. Two of the men quickly offered to go as backup for Gi-hun and Jung-bae prompting Young-il to also go. Just as he was about to get up and head to the control room, your voice rang out.

“Wait! Are you sure?” you asked as you looked at Young-il with worry. Although Gwi-nam and Jung-bae needed some help and ammo, you didn’t want Young-il to be in danger. You weren’t sure what you would do if he died considering he’d been such a good friend to you. You’d never be able to get over his death - you knew that much. 

In response to your worry for him, he gave you a small smile as he looked at you before nodding his head. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry,” he says reassuringly. Seeing you look at him like that made his heart clench with both adoration and guilt. To know you worried for him almost made him rethink if he should be doing this or not. Of course, he quickly threw that thought away and turned around, heading to the direction Gi-hun and Jung-bae had gone. All you could do was watch him disappear through the door with a heavy heart as you pray this would work and he’d return unharmed.

Through the chaos of the shooting and the yelling, all you could think about was him. Even as everything went completely to shit and you all ran out of ammo after Dae-ho never came back and Hyun-ju left to go find him, you still kept thinking about him and if he was okay. Perhaps the threat of death being oh so real now was making you think about everything you had cherished in life - including the few days you got to spend with Young-il and how those days were arguably the best of your life.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t going to die here. Not as long as he was in control of these games. 

“Don’t kill Player 076,” he spoke through a radio to the guards after promptly shooting the guys that came with him and faking his death to Gi-hun. He shouldn’t be letting you live. He shouldn’t care about you at all but he did. He cared about you so much and he wished he could tell you the truth but he couldn’t. He’d just have to watch from afar and pull every string possible so you would live. He let out a sigh at the thought of you before quickly walking off to prepare himself to confront Gi-hun as who he really was - The Front Man.

You watched as your friends had no choice but to surrender until inevitably getting shot and killed. You flinched at the sound of the gunshots as you raised your hands in surrender and backed up. Were you crying? Yes. You were. Any sane person would be crying right about now after watching their friends die and realising they’re next to die. “Please. Please don’t kill me,” you begged as you closed your eyes and prepared for the worst. 

Except the worst never came. 

No. You were suddenly grabbed instead and pushed along as they walked. You weren’t sure what was happening. They had just ruthlessly shot your friends but they were leaving you to live? For what? So you could tell everyone what happened and teach a lesson to everyone not to try something like that again? You didn’t understand why you were spared when you really shouldn’t have been. You were just as guilty as the rest. You should have been shot too.

If only you knew the truth.

[strwbrrykthv]

you and katsuki who arent just friends. theres always prolonged eye contact and not so subtle touches. youre drawn to him at outings and hes drawn to you.

if youre not sitting in his lap at a party or bar youre right beside him and his hand is on you. it could be his hand on your thigh, your back, or sitting beside you just barely touching you with his finger tips. and if youre not within arms distance you never get out of his sight.

everyone in your friend group knows that you both are made for each other and constantly pick on him.

“bro if you dont make a move i might have to step up.” denki grins at katsuki as hes sitting in the booth watching you talk with mina at the bar.

“ha, id like to see you try”

denki perks up, slipping out of the booth and sauntering over to you and mina at the bar, ��uh mina will you excuse us for a second i need to talk with this fine lady right here” your eyes immediately dart to katsukis as he lets out a huff of laughter at your reaction.

he finds it humorous that denki thinks any of his flirting will land with you. he hears denki call you the pet names katsuki himself calls you and watches as every time your eyes dart back to him saying so many unspoken words such as “did he just call me mama???” and “are you really just gunna sit there and let this happen?”

mina slips in the booth opposite katsuki and chuckles at him watching you with a smile, “you think you would be angry watching a guy try to flirt with your ‘not’ girl” using air quotes to mock him, “not enjoying it and even smiling.”

“well when she looks for me after every sentence its kinda hard to think she’s being moved by his useless flirting” he scoffs as you look over at him with another plea in your eyes.

he sighs sliding out of his side of the booth and making his way towards you. “denks, listen. im totally flattered, like, so much, but… uh..-“

“shes not interested.” katsuki says with a small smirk looping his arm around your waist as you instinctively lean into him. you hook a finger into his nearest belt loop to hold him near.

“oh,” denki raises both hands defensively looking back and forth between the two of you. “hey man, look. i get it, totally. ill leave you two alone. dont kill me,” he says with a grin sending katsuki a not so subtle wink.

katsuki lets out a small laugh through his nose “mhmm, now why dont you go flirt with ears instead.” denki immediately stiffens, nodding his head before spinning around and speed walking to jiriou.

katsuki spins you to face him, moving his hand from your hip to your back, your finger still hooked into his belt loop. “tell me everything he told you. if he said something nasty ill kill him.”

you laugh looking into his eyes. you would think that they would be full of jealousy and harshness after watching a man flirt with the girl hes in love with, but his eyes were soft around the edges shimmering in the low light of the bar.

“oh you know, just the usual ‘im a pro hero, i can take good care of you, mama’, but i dont know why he called me mama. you only call me mama when youre tipsy and by then hes close to being blacked out” you ramble.

katsuki lowers his head to rest his forehead on your shoulder so that he can have his full attention on your voice traveling into his good ear. he loves the way you recite the whole exchange. the whole exchange between you and denki only about three minutes but dang can that guy talk.

“-and thats when you came over and rescued me” you say as katsuki raises his head.

“i saw a pretty mama in destress and couldnt help myself” he chuckles as you tilt your head so you can side eye him. a small commotion at the booth he was once sitting at draws both of your attention as denki yells across the bar to both of you, “hey! were going out to karaoke now, sero thinks he can beat me. yall wanna come?”

before katsuki can even roll his eyes and decline his offer youre pulling him by his belt loop to the group, “sure! i can whoop some tail in karaoke. whaddaya think katsu?”

“i think im too sober for this” he grumbles as the group exits the bar to head to karaoke with you and him in the back, your finger in his belt loop and his hand slung across your shoulders.

i had an idea for karaoke bkg but had to lead up to it first. this is my first time with writing convos and not just whats going on lol. lmk what you guys think!!

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter ten ♡

Summary: You open the door to Joel, preparing yourself to hear what he has to say. WC: 9.9k A/N: Helloooooo! Wishing you all happy holidays! I hope your holiday season was wonderful, and that you enjoy reading this part. Be patient <3 I def enjoyed writing it lol Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! love u all

“I... I know you probably don't wanna see me,” he said, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes dark and heavy with something blue, looking at you with controlled desperation. “But I... I... can we talk? Please?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly, lashes brushing against your skin in quick, involuntary flutters. Joel caught the movement immediately. Of course he did. He noticed everything about you, even now, even after everything. It was obvious he had startled you, but whether that made him feel vindicated or more like an intruder, he couldn’t tell.

The week had been hell. He had been hell. Work was relentless, a grind of demands and decisions that seemed designed to erode what little patience he had left. Coming home wasn’t much better—Sarah’s teenage tolerance for him was wearing thin, and he knew it. Her exasperated sighs, her eyerolls, the way she barely looked up when he walked in the door.

The last time you’d spoken, your voice had been steady, measured, almost clinical, which somehow made it worse. “I think you should go,” you’d said, calm and certain, slicing through the rising heat of his anger like a blade. “I just... I just need some time.”

Anger had only been the surface. Underneath, he was wrecked. Broken in a way that felt unfamiliar, even compared to the times he thought he’d been hurt before. While you spoke, his mind had fixated on Travis—his stupid smirking face, the condescending edge to his voice. It was all Joel could see, all he could hear, drowning out everything else.

He’d slammed the door of his house that day and told himself he was done. He wasn’t going to call, wasn’t going to show up, wasn’t going to see you again. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He told himself he was done. Done with you, done with all of it.

You won’t see her again. You don’t want to see her again. The resolve felt like armor at first, solid and impenetrable. But later, as he sat in the dark of his room, it hollowed out, echoing back every memory of you he couldn’t seem to let go of.

And now here he was, standing in front of you, stripped of any armor he thought he had. He told himself he looked calm, his posture straight, his face neutral. But his hands betrayed him, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, his fingers curling and uncurling like they didn’t know what else to do.

“Joel,” you said finally, and it wasn’t anger in your voice. He heard that right away, though what it was instead, he couldn’t quite name. “Need somethin'?”

The coldness of your tone startled him more than he wanted to admit. Not anger. Indifference. He recognized it only because it was unfamiliar coming from you.

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly, the word tumbling out before he had time to second-guess it. “Yes. I... I need to talk to you. Please, can we talk?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Your question was measured, but it wasn’t an invitation. He felt his lips twitch into an awkward half-smile, the kind you used to find endearing in its clumsiness. Now it only seemed to widen the space between you. You both knew the answer; you were just making him say it.

“About everything,” he said, stepping closer without thinking. The movement was automatic, but the way you took a step back wasn’t. It hit him like a sudden ache, sharp and lingering. “My birthday. What happened after. Travis. Everything I said to you, everything I did.”

“I don’t wanna fight, Joel.”

“Neither do I,” he said quickly, his voice soft. “I ain't here to fight. I swear. Please, just... give me a minute. If you don’t wanna hear me after this, I’ll—” He hesitated, his throat tight. “I’ll respect that.”

Your head tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible motion. “You’ll leave me alone?”

The words landed hard. He felt it, like a stone dropping into his chest.

“If that’s what you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on yours. “If that’s what you really want, then yeah. I’ll leave you alone.”

You shifted to the side, a subtle movement that opened a narrow space between your body and the doorframe. Joel hesitated for just a moment before stepping through, his eyes flicking to your face as his arm brushed lightly against yours. The contact was fleeting, accidental, but it sent a strange charge through him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

As he walked past, he inhaled deeply, letting the scent of your home wash over him. It was grounding, like stepping into a memory he hadn’t realized he was carrying. The air was thick with the comforting notes he associated with you—freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint, clean sweetness of the textile spray you spritzed religiously on the couch cushions. Beneath that lingered the softer, subtler scents: the warm floral of your fabric softener, the trace of your favorite perfume still clinging to your skin, and something else he couldn’t quite name but had always recognized as distinctly you.

It was the same scent that used to cling to his shirt after one of your hugs, when his nose would inevitably dip into the curve of your neck without thinking. The thought of it now hit him like a whisper of nostalgia, equal parts tender and bittersweet.

Joel’s gaze swept the living room as he entered, and he paused, taking in the familiar organized chaos. Two mugs, each half-full, sat abandoned on the coffee table. Next to them lay the crinkled remnants of half-finished snacks. Soft blankets were strewn across the couch, their folds still marked with the shapes of bodies that had recently lounged there. Two candles flickered on the mantel, filling the air with the warm, tropical scent of coconut and vanilla. On the floor, two pairs of slippers rested haphazardly, as if their owners had kicked them off mid-laughter.

The first pair was purple, dotted with little blue hearts—Cassie’s, he assumed. The other pair he recognized instantly. The white pom-pom slippers, soft and well-loved, and he could still picture the Christmas he’d given them to you. You’d hurt your foot a week earlier, and he’d insisted you needed something sturdy to wear around the house. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the practicality of the gift but had smiled when you slipped them on anyway. After that, he gave you his other gift: the complete box set of Nightmare on Elm Street. 

Now, seeing them here, Joel felt a tightness in his chest, a painful warmth that spread through him as he took in the scene. This mess, this lived-in disarray, was evidence of you. Evidence of life. And he missed it.

For weeks now, his own home had been the opposite—too quiet, too clean. No lingering smells of scented candles, no forgotten mugs on the table. Sarah had been retreating to her room more and more, and the spaces she used to fill with her presence now felt hollow. The house smelled of little more than coffee, and the silence stretched long and thin, oppressive in its stillness.

“Have a seat,” you said, your voice cutting through his thoughts. “Want some coffee? Cassie made a pot before she left.”

Joel didn’t want a tidy house. He didn’t want a quiet living room. He didn’t want the emptiness that had taken root in his home.

He wanted noise. He wanted laughter echoing through the halls, the kind that erupted out of nowhere and carried long after the joke had ended. He wanted his living room cluttered with the evidence of conversations and evenings spent together. He wanted his house to smell like candles, fresh bread from the oven—burnt edges and all—and your perfume lingering in the air. He wanted the warmth of Sarah and Tommy and you, all of you there together, filling the house with life again.

“Sure,” he replied, watching as you moved past him toward the kitchen. His eyes followed the curve of your shoulder, the way the light caught in your hair, until you disappeared through the door.

He sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his thighs as his gaze landed on the coffee table. A book lay there, its spine tilted just enough for him to read the title: Jane Eyre. His fingers reached for it instinctively, brushing over the cover as memories flickered to life. Two years ago, you had insisted he watch the movie with you. He’d been indifferent at first, grumbling about how slow it was, but by the end, he’d found himself blinking furiously, swiping at the tears that kept slipping past his guard. You and Sarah hadn’t let him live it down, teasing him gently once the lights came back on.

A quiet laugh nearly escaped him at the memory, but it faded as you reappeared, two mugs balanced carefully in your hands. You set them down on the table and took the seat across from him.

Joel reached for his mug immediately, grateful for something to do with his hands. He lifted it to his lips, the warmth spreading through his palms as he took a sip. The coffee was strong and slightly sweet, the taste familiar and comforting. But as he lowered the cup, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back to you, watching as you settled in place.

You sat next to him, the cushion between you a quiet, unspoken boundary neither of you seemed willing to cross. Your arms rested on your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns on your knee, while your eyes fixed on him—watching, waiting. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet. His gaze was locked on the mug in his hands, the coffee inside long forgotten, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this conversation.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and taut, until finally, he broke it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what to say to you,” he began, his voice steady but low. He didn’t look up, still focused on the mug. “How to say it, what order to put it in so I wouldn’t just… trip over myself and make it worse.”

You said nothing, your eyes trailing across his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

“And even after all that thinkin', there doesn’t seem to be an ideal way to do this,” he continued, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. “But I think… I think the first thing I gotta say is that I’m sorry.” He paused, swallowed, then lifted his eyes to yours. They were heavy with something raw. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to give him an inch.

“What’s everything?”

You already knew. Of course, you knew. But you needed him to say it, needed to hear the words from his mouth.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “For not being enough. For not living up to what you needed. For being a coward.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “I’ve been afraid—terrified, actually—and I hate myself for it.”

Your tone was sharper than you intended. “Afraid of what?”

“Of making a mistake. Of ruining things.” His gaze dropped back to his hands, his lower lip trembling in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.

“You already ruined things, Joel. You already blew it.”

At that, he looked up, his face pale, his expression something close to stricken.

“I know,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “I know I did. But… I was hurt.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You were hurt?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rising just a touch, a hint of frustration there. “Last time we talked, at my place, we said things… things that stuck in my head and twisted ‘round ‘til I couldn’t think straight. And then Travis—he blindsided me. He said things I wasn’t ready to hear, and before I knew it, I was just… angry. Angry and too stubborn to think if any of it even made sense.”

“You could have asked me about it,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your voice tight with restrained anger. “It would have been that simple. All you had to do was ask.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“You say it like it’s easy. Like it’s that black and white. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t think straight. My head was full of these awful, painful thoughts, and I didn’t know if I could face the answer. I didn’t know if I wanted to face it. What if you told me it was true?”

“What if I told you it was true?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “Joel, it’s me. Not some stranger off the street. It’s me. Why is it so fucking hard for you to talk to me?”

“'Cause it’s you!” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he finally set the mug down, turning fully toward you. “You’re not just anyone, don’t you get that? You’ve never been just anyone. You’re you, and that’s why it scared me so much. That’s why it’s always scared me.”

You stared at him, your hand brushing against your neck as you tried to process his words.

“What does that even mean?” you asked, your voice quiet but loaded with frustration. ��I’m me, but you treat me like I’m a stranger. You accuse me of things I would never do. How does that make sense?”

“It doesn't make sense, I know,” he said, his voice soft now, filled with remorse. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have—”

You cut him off, leaning closer, your tone sharp and unforgiving.

“I talked to Travis, Joel. He told me everything. He told me what he said to you—that he implied we’d slept together that night.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you steadied it. “And it was a lie. He lied to you. And you didn’t even stop to think. You didn’t come to me. You just believed him.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice a little stronger this time, though his eyes dropped to the floor. “I know it was a lie. I know that now.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “How?”

He met your eyes, and for the first time that evening, there was something solid in his expression, something that felt like conviction.

“Travis confessed to me. Earlier today.”

You blinked, stunned, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“He came to my house this morning.” He paused, glancing at his hands like they might steady him. “When I saw him, I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I thought about it—what it’d feel like, what it’d fix. But he looked… pathetic. Like a wet dog. And I don’t know why, but I listened to him.” He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist on his thigh. “He confessed everything. Said it was all a lie. That he was angry that night, that he wanted to hurt me, hurt you, us. And that he was sorry.”

That morning, before Joel had even finished his first cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all Travis, who stood on the porch looking like he’d rehearsed this moment a dozen times but still wasn’t ready. There was a tension to his posture—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared but uneven, like he couldn’t decide between defiance and regret.

Joel opened the door without a word, his eyes narrowing slightly, the kind of look that made most people hesitate. But Travis didn’t flinch. He cleared his throat, glanced briefly over Joel’s shoulder as though confirming they were alone, and began. His confession was brief but clear.

Joel stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his silence heavy and deliberate. Anger started to build in him, slow and deliberate, like water simmering in a pot. If he’d been alone, he might’ve said something sharp or done something rash—just enough to make Travis rethink ever stepping foot here again. But Sarah was at the dining table, half-hidden behind a glass of orange juice, listening to every word. It was too early in the day for things to escalate, and besides, Joel knew better.

“I don’t know you, Joel,” he said, voice low but firm. He kept his gaze on Joel, unblinking, but his body angled slightly away, as if ready to retreat if things got ugly. “And I don’t claim to know the whole story between you two. Don’t know all the details, don’t pretend to.” He exhaled sharply, a trace of frustration slipping through. “But I know enough to say this—she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. Not a damn bit of it.”

Joel’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he stayed silent, his arms crossed in front of him like a barrier.

Travis shifted again, this time squaring his shoulders, his voice growing firmer.

“Whether you deserve her or not... that ain’t my call to make.” He shook his head, almost as if he pitied Joel. “But, just be enough. Stop lookin’ for ways to screw it up. Fix it. Make it right.”

The last words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Travis glanced back at Joel one final time before stepping off the porch, his body already half-turned away, as if to signal the conversation was over.

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He stayed there, rooted to the spot, as Travis turned and walked away without looking back. When the door finally closed, Joel exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before heading back to the kitchen.

Sarah was seated at the table, her cereal soggy in its bowl, her chin propped up on one hand as she watched him. Her expression was impossible to read at first—calm, maybe even detached—but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the kind that always made Joel brace himself.

He dropped into the chair across from her, rubbing a hand across his face.

“So,” she began, her voice light but measured, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should I start guessing? Because I can go wild with it if you want.”

Joel looked at her, his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile despite himself. “You don’t need to guess anything, Sarah. Eat your breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a beat. Then she switched tactics.

"You have the afternoon off today, don't you?”

"Yeah."

“Can I spend the afternoon with Irina?” she asked then, her tone casual, like the question had been waiting for its moment to pounce. 

Joel eyed her suspiciously, leaning back in his chair. “Why do I get the feeling this is part of a larger plan?”

“Because it is,” Sarah said brightly, sitting up straighter. “But also because you’re smart, and I’m obviously your favorite child, so you’re always on high alert.”

Joel snorted. “You’re my only child.”

“Exactly,” she said, pointing at him with her spoon. “See how much you have to lose if you say no?”

“Fine,” Joel said, shaking his head. “But be home for dinner.”

“Can I stay over?” she asked immediately, her tone hopeful but strategic, like she was carefully laying pieces on a chessboard.

“Sarah—”

“Tomorrow’s saturday,” she interrupted, grinning now. “And besides, you could use some alone time. Don’t you think? You know, kick back, put your feet up, maybe even watch a movie. Something fun, preferably. You’ve been way too broody lately—it’s not good for your skin.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “My skin is fine, thank you very much.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. “Take a self-care moment. Relax. Settle your affairs. And let’s be honest—at some point, you’re gonna have to get used to me bein’ gone. In a few years, I’ll be outta the house anyway. Might as well start now.”

Joel chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re thirteen, sweetheart. You’re not leavin’ anytime soon.”

“Thirteen and a half,” she corrected. “Which means I’m practically halfway to twenty. Time flies, man. Better get used to it.”

He shook his head, a smile breaking through despite his best efforts.

Joel shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle.  “ Come back for dinner,” he said firmly. “And finish your breakfast, smartass. We’re running late.”

Relief fluttered through you, but it didn’t stay long enough to root itself. Instead, anger rose, sharp and unyielding, burning through your chest like fire.  

“So that’s why you’re here,” you said, your voice cutting through the air between you. “Because Travis decided to clear his conscience? What if he hadn’t? What then, Joel? Would you have hated me for the rest of your life without even asking me about it?”  

“No,” he said quickly, his posture straightening as if bracing for impact. “Of course not. I wanted to come and talk to you before—”  

“How can I be sure of that?” you interrupted, leaning forward slightly, your voice cold and unwavering.  

His face shifted, his desperation barely masked. His eyes moved over your features, searching for something—an opening, a shred of forgiveness, anything to grasp onto. It was the look of someone teetering on the edge of losing what mattered most. And seeing him like that, so vulnerable and raw, sent a sharp pang through your chest.  

But you didn’t move. You didn’t let him off that easily.  

Joel sighed heavily, the sound thick with frustration and resignation. He looked back down at his hands, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the conversation was pressing him into the couch. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. You watched him wrestle with his thoughts, his jaw tightening and loosening, his fingers twitching slightly.  

Finally, he opened his mouth, but no words came. He shut it again, his brow furrowing, his expression pained. He looked like he was trying to pull something out of himself that refused to surface. Then, with a deep breath, he ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers brushing through his hair before he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours again.  

His cheeks were flushed, the color spreading to his neck, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter but startlingly clear.  

“You could do the worst atrocities in the world to me, and I’d still come crawling back to you,” he said, his words landing heavily in the space between you.  

You blinked, stunned, your anger momentarily eclipsed by his confession.  

“I’d take it all,” he continued, his voice steady despite the emotion rippling just beneath the surface. “Every insult, every blow. At first, I’d probably bark back—like some angry dog—but it wouldn’t matter. I’d still come back to you. Over and over again. Until you decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. And even then…” His voice faltered slightly, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. “Even then, I’d wait. I’d wait for you like some stupid, loyal, domesticated animal.”  

His hand fell lightly onto your knee, the weight of it grounding and electric all at once. His face was closer now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.  

You stared at him, speechless, his words circling in your mind, unfamiliar and disarming. You had never heard him talk like this before, never heard him articulate his feelings with such painful honesty.  

Confusion flickered across your face, your brows knitting together as you tried to process what he’d said. But before you could respond, Joel pulled his hand back, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was reluctant to let go.  

He sat back, his hand running along his jawline, his thumb brushing against his stubble in an attempt to soothe himself. His eyes shifted away from you, staring somewhere into the distance as he collected himself.  

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant, but still carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said yet. His eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point in front of him, his expression thoughtful and distant.  

“I’m a lucky man,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Though for a long time, I thought life had it out for me.”  

The confession lingered in the room for a moment before he continued, his voice lower now, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.  

“When I was a teenager, I had all these goals, y'know? Dreams that seemed so big and endless back then. And then every single one of 'em became impossible the moment Amelia told me she was pregnant.” He laughed softly, though it wasn’t a happy sound. It carried the weight of years gone by, of opportunities lost. “It took me a while to make peace with that. To accept that everything I thought my life would be was just… gone. My responsibilities changed overnight, and I wasn’t ready. Not even close.”  

You stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke, unwilling to break the flow of his words.  

“It was hard,” he admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of discomfort. “Harder than I could’ve imagined. But then Sarah was born.” His voice softened when he said her name, a reverence in the way he spoke of her. “And everything changed. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore—not the dreams I lost, not the plans I’d made. Because I had her. She was all I needed to be happy, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.”  

There was a pause, a stillness that filled the space as he collected his thoughts. His hands, resting on his knees, clasped together tightly, his knuckles turning white.  

“And then Amelia left,” he said, his voice dropping lower, his jaw tightening as though the memory itself was still too sharp. “When she walked away, I thought I wouldn’t survive it. I wanted to die. The only thing that kept me going was Sarah. She was my strength, my reason to keep breathing. And Tommy,” he added with a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “even if he gave me more headaches than I could count.”  

His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Those years were… suffocating. I was drowning, trying to stay afloat for Sarah’s sake. I worked every hour I could, even when it wasn’t enough. And I tried so damn hard to keep her from noticing. She was just a baby, too little to understand, but I noticed. I noticed every empty space, every moment we didn’t have what we should’ve.”  

Joel paused, his fingers fiddling with an invisible thread on his jeans, his voice turning steadier as he continued.  

“Everything I did was for her,” he said, his tone resolute. “Everything I still do is for her. I didn’t care if I wore the same worn-out shoes for years, as long as she had everything she needed. I didn’t care about working overtime, as long as she had a good christmas, with all the things she’d ever dreamed of.”  

A soft smile crept onto his face, faint but genuine. “And then things got better. I started making more money. I was able to move us into a nicer place, give her her own room with everything she wanted—books, toys, a million stuffed animals. Seeing her happy was all I needed. Nothing else mattered. My own dreams, my own goals—they didn’t even exist anymore. I didn’t have room for them. All I cared about was her.”  

He exhaled shakily, his hands now clenched together, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying a weight he hadn’t quite managed to set down.  

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. His words settled into you, heavy and aching. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. You knew Joel was a good father—better than most. But hearing him lay it bare like this, recounting the sacrifices he made and the pain he endured, broke something inside you.  

He looked down, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“I had no desires of my own,” he admitted, his words halting, “until I met you.”  

Your breath hitched at his confession, your gaze dropping to your hands, folded tightly in your lap.  

Joel shifted in his seat, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. He was waiting, searching your face for a reaction. When you finally looked up, your vision blurred, a single tear slipping down your cheek.  

“And then you moved in next to me,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And I became the luckiest man in the world. Because that night, on your birthday, I saw it. I felt it, clear as day, in your eyes.” His voice wavered slightly. “Did you feel it too?”  

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”  

Joel’s gaze flickered between yours, searching, probing for even the faintest shadow of doubt. But he found none. Your answer had left no room for uncertainty, and the truth of it settled visibly in his chest. For a moment, his eyes dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The reprieve was brief; his gaze snapped back to yours almost immediately, as if afraid to lose the fragile connection.  

“You took me completely by surprise,” he began, his voice low and unsteady. “I had this quiet, organized life. Everything was in its place, everything predictable. And then you came along, and suddenly I was thinking about futures I’d never allowed myself to imagine before. Futures where my purpose wasn’t just being a dad, where there was… more.”

His lips pressed together, and he glanced past your shoulder, unable to hold your gaze for long under the weight of his admission. “I tried to act on it. I wanted to. I told myself I’d tell you how I felt, ask you out properly, but I was terrified. You were such an easy part of our lives, mine and Sarah’s, that the idea of risking that, of losing you…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as though frustrated with himself. “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t.”  

His eyes returned to you, a mixture of resignation and determination clouding their depths. “So I swallowed it all. All these years, I’ve done everything I could to be the friend you deserved. To not let my feelings interfere. But if I’m being honest…” He paused, his jaw tightening as though bracing for impact. “I’d take anything from you. I’d come back to you every fucking time, no matter what. Because the thought of living without you—” He stopped abruptly, his voice catching in his throat.  

Joel exhaled sharply, attempting to recover, and then a faint, self-deprecating humor colored his expression.

“I know how pathetic I sound right now,” he said, his voice lighter but no less sincere. “I don’t care.”  

“Yeah, Joel, that’s pretty damn pathetic,” you replied, your lips curving into a soft, fleeting smile. There wasn’t much humor in it, but it was enough to ease some of the tension between you.  

Joel chuckled faintly, shaking his head as though chastising himself. He glanced down at the floor, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I know,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve been feeling pretty pathetic lately.”  

“Me too,” you admitted quietly, your voice tinged with an exhaustion that mirrored his.  

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but weighted. Joel’s hands stilled, resting loosely against his knees, though you could tell he was still grappling with everything he’d laid bare. You studied him in that moment—every slight movement, every shift in his expression—trying to parse the tangle of thoughts in your own mind.  

For Joel, the quiet was a reminder of how vulnerable he’d been. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a lump rising in his throat that he fought to suppress. The fear of baring himself so fully gnawed at him, but it didn’t terrify him as much as losing you did.  

“I don’t regret that night,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, though his eyes remained fixed on the floor. “But I hate how it happened. I hate that our first night together came out of a fight. A fight where I was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Terrible to you. That’s not how it should have been.”  

“Oh, God. Stop that,” you cut in sharply, your tone carrying the faintest edge of irritation. You leaned forward, placing your hand firmly on his knee. “I’m tired of hearing you say the same thing over and over. Things are the way they are. Nothing more.”  

His head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief. His lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, but no words came immediately.  

“I get it, okay?” he said eventually, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I fucking blew it. Look where we are now. Years of keeping my feelings bottled up—for what?”  

You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his knee, covering your face as frustration bubbled to the surface. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your cheeks felt hot, and bitterness churned in your chest.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with the idea of being more than my friend?” you asked, your voice trembling, broken and laced with helplessness. “If we had never argued, we never would have slept together, and then what? You would have spent your whole life being just that—my friend?”

Joel’s face contorted, a mix of anguish and confusion. “It’s not that, I... I...” He faltered, his words tumbling over themselves as his gaze flickered between his hands and your face, desperate to find the right thing to say. “Relationships are complicated, you know that. No matter how hard you try, sometimes things just... break. Feelings get messy, people hurt each other, and then it’s over. And after that? You’re left with the wreckage, picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together, and... starting over. And I want to be wi—”

“I’m not Amelia!”

Your voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and unrelenting. Joel froze. His body went still, his eyes wide as he watched you rise from your seat, your palms pressing against your face to catch the tears that spilled freely now. A sob broke through your chest, raw and guttural, shaking your whole body.

Joel stood abruptly, closing the space between you with long, purposeful strides. He reached out, his large hands settling gently on your shoulders, trying to ground you, to pull you closer to him. But you resisted, your body tense and unyielding beneath his touch.

You dragged your hands down from your face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and an expression so pained that Joel felt an ache bloom in his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, as he took in the sight of you.

“Why do you have to make everything harder?” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. Your words fell between you, sharp and piercing. “I know what happened to you was horrible, Joel. I know. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt. It hurts—God, it hurts—to think of you going through that. I wish I could go back in time and change it, spare you all that suffering, but I can’t.”

Your voice broke again, and you shook your head, gripping his arms tightly as if trying to anchor yourself. “I can’t change it, and neither can you.”

“I know, baby,” Joel said softly, his voice almost breaking. “I don’t—”

“No!” you interrupted, your hands squeezing his arms harder. “You know nothing! You don’t listen to me. You’re scared—this, us, it terrifies you because it makes you feel weak and vulnerable, and you hate that. I know you do, because I know you. I know you like the back of my hand, just like I know myself."

Your voice rose, thick with emotion, trembling but unwavering. “You’ve spent years building everything you have, brick by brick, because you know how fragile it all is. You know how quickly it can fall apart. And yes, it’s true—that’s life. That’s how it works.”

Joel tried to interrupt, but you pressed on, your words pouring out like a dam had broken. “But I’m not Amelia, Joel. I’m not going to leave when things get hard. I’m not going to disappear. Just look at me—look at me right now. This has been hell since your birthday, absolute hell, and yet I’m still here. I’m standing in front of you, listening to you, when maybe—probably—you don’t even fucking deserve it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and his hands slipped from your shoulders to your elbows, holding onto you as if afraid you might disappear. His eyes glistened, his lips slightly parted as he took in your words. For a moment, the room was silent except for the uneven sounds of your breathing.

“I know,” Joel said abruptly, his words choking out in a way that made his chest tighten, like he was barely able to get them out at all. “I’ve been a coward all this time, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me the same thing again,” you cut him off, shaking your head in frustration, taking a small step back, your space suddenly feeling more necessary than ever. “Yeah, real—”

“Can you stop interrupting me and just listen?” he snapped, his voice sharp, the calm restraint in it fraying just a little as he stepped closer, his hands landing gently on your shoulders, grounding himself in the movement.

He stared down at your feet, his gaze lingering there, not meeting your eyes, the words heavy in the space between you. In that moment, he felt desperate, like the situation was slipping through his fingers again, but somehow, there was a strange sense of vulnerability in his posture, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but forward.

His hands fell away from your shoulders, but he didn’t move, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours, his gaze unwavering and intense. It felt like there were a thousand unsaid things in the air, and still, he said nothing for a long beat, his mouth opening, then closing again as if he couldn’t quite gather the words.

“Everything you said is true,” he started, his voice quieter now, but carrying a weight in it that felt both final and irreversible. “And everything I told you is true. And I don’t care, not anymore. I’m done with it.” He moved his hand across the space between you, as though trying to sweep away the past, drawing an invisible line through the tension that had hung over both of you for too long.

You let out a slow breath, the question hanging in the air before you could voice it. “And what does that even mean?”

“It means that I want you, that I love you,” Joel started, his voice breaking slightly on the words, the confession so raw it felt like it was tearing him open from the inside. “That I need you. That I can’t… I can't help but resent a life without you.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes burning, not quite able to meet yours. “I always thought I was fine on my own. I’ve been alone most of my life, you know that. I never needed anyone. I never thought I was missing anything, never felt incomplete. I felt perfectly fine alone.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, were now trembling, fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from shattering.  

“And then I met you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to say the words aloud. “And I realized how empty I’d been. How much I’d been missing. How full I felt when I was with you.” He paused, his face contorting as if the weight of his own words was too much to carry. “And then I screwed up. I messed it all up.” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “And no, I’m not that cold. I’m not some heartless bastard. I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. And I can’t—” He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps as he struggled to control the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.  

His eyes closed for a moment, as though he could hide from the truth for just a second longer, but when they opened again, they were full of something that felt like desperation. “I can’t live another day knowing you’re just next door, and you’re uncomfortable because of what I did. Because of what I let happen. Because of how I failed you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it was like a knife to your chest, hearing the hurt in him, seeing how much it was tearing him apart to even say it.  

“I know I probably don't deserve you,” he whispered, each word like a burden he couldn’t bear. “I know that. And if you decide not to choose me, I’ll understand. I’ll walk away. I’ll stay away. I promise you, I won’t bother you again. But if you… if you just let me, one last time...” He faltered, his voice breaking as he looked at you, his eyes dark with pain and regret. “If you let me prove to you, show you, how much I love you... the way you deserve to be loved, if you let me do it for the first time...” He shook his head, his voice catching again, barely a whisper now. “I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. I swear it.”  

There was nothing left in his voice now but the ragged edges of a man who had bled himself dry in front of you.

“Joel—” you started, but before you could finish, he cut you off, his voice calm but firm, like a man who had already said too much but was determined to say it all.

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not finished.” His voice held an edge of something deeper now, like he had reached the point of no return. “You have to understand what I’m telling you. When I told you about Amelia, when I told you how much of a coward I’ve been, when I told you about how you changed my life, when I told you I was afraid—what I meant is, that’s why it cost me so much to do all this. But now? Now, it’s all insignificant. All of it. Compared to this. Compared to you.”

Your breath caught as his words settled in the space between you, and you could feel your eyes widen, your body stiffening with an ache you couldn’t place. You watched him, his expression flickering—his eyebrows tense, his lips parted with an unreadable intensity, his eyes dark and glistening, glossed with the unmistakable trace of tears. Your stomach twisted at the sight of them, the tears there but barely contained, and you realized how long it had been since you had seen him like this. Vulnerable. So impossibly vulnerable.

He leaned in slightly, his hands rising to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing the damp skin of your cheeks, as if he could steady you both with his touch.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I always have. From the moment I saw you, I loved everything about you. Everything. The way you are. The sound of your voice. The way your face lights up when you smile. The way you move, the way you think, the way you feel. I want it all, I want it all with you. Please.”

The words hit you like a slow wave, gentle but relentless, and before you could stop them, the tears you had been fighting to keep in check broke free. They streamed down your face, hot and heavy, staining your flushed cheeks. Joel’s hands were gentle as they wiped them away, his touch tender, almost reverent as his calloused fingers traced the outline of your skin. He stared at you, as if trying to read the language of your eyes, but there was something in them he couldn’t name. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger. It was something similar to doubt. Uncertainty, maybe. Something that he couldn’t fix with a touch or a word, but something that still held him captive.

“I would kneel in front of you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with a kind of desperate affection, “and beg all night if you asked me to, sunshine.”

His words had the air of a joke, but the way his lips curled into a smile—slow and warm—made something inside you tighten. Something inside you broke just a little, and you smiled in return, the gesture pulling at the corners of your mouth. The smile felt unfamiliar, like it had been so long since you had smiled for him. Really smiled, without hesitation. And when you did, the effect on him was immediate, like a light suddenly flicking on in a room that had been dark for far too long.

Joel’s breath caught at the sight of it. He looked at you as though he had been waiting for that exact moment, for that exact smile, for weeks. The smile he had missed more than he could admit.

With a quiet, almost embarrassed chuckle, he pulled his hands from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You stared at him, confused, as he slowly began to lower himself onto one knee, the movement slow, deliberate, as though he was going to ask something, something monumental and beg. But before he could finish the motion, you instinctively reached for him, hands gripping his sides, pulling him back up with a soft laugh.

“Joel, please,” you laughed, the sound light and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But in your chest, you felt a soft pressure—the weight of everything he had just said, everything he had just given to you. 

Standing before you, Joel didn’t give you a second to pull away, his hands moving with certainty, cupping your face with a tenderness that seemed almost fragile, as if he was afraid of breaking something. His fingers gently traced the contours of your skin, his gaze unwavering, like he was memorizing every detail of your face. 

“I fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice rough, the words heavy with an urgency that seemed to echo in the stillness between you. Before you could react, his lips were on yours—soft, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, and then more sure, more insistent, as he kissed you again, and then again, and again, and again. Each kiss was brief, a fleeting press of his soft lips against yours, but each one held a weight, a quiet desperation that was impossible to ignore.

Your hands rested on his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your palms grounding you in that moment, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. You could feel the tension in him, the way his body seemed to pulse with need, and you knew—without a doubt—that he was hanging on to every second, waiting for you to say something. 

"I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily, caught somewhere between a confession and a plea. Your lips were mere inches from his as you spoke, your breath mingling with his in the small space between your mouths. As he kissed the corner of your lips, you felt the tremble in his kiss, the way his entire body seemed to respond to the simplicity of those three words. 

Joel’s lips curved into a smile against yours, and he pulled back, just enough to watch your face. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to memorize something invisible, something that only the two of you could understand.

“I love you too, Joel,” you said again, your voice low but steady, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing grounding you. “And I’m sorry. Truly. If I hurt you—if anything I did made you feel that way—it was never intentional. I need you to know that. Nothing that happened with Travis was ever about trying to hurt you. I’d never do that.” You paused, your fingers tightening slightly. “But I get it. I shouldn’t have let it get so messy, not after what happened between us.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze softening even further.

“We handled this a little badly, didn’t we?” he said, his voice edged with a hint of humor, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and bright at the same time, his pupils blown wide like he was looking straight at the moon.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I think that’s putting it lightly.”

His smile turned rueful, almost sheepish. “I’m sorry—for all of it. I mean it. Please, forgive me.”

Your hands slid upward, fingers tracing the line of his collar, then moving to the soft skin behind his ears, the place where his hair curled just slightly above his nape.

“I forgive you,” you murmured. “It’s okay. I understand. And I love you.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his—just the barest touch—before pulling back again, almost abruptly. Joel didn’t move, his eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for something more in your expression. Your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck, anchoring you both.

“But if you ever do something like that again,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “if you ever run away from me again, Joel Miller, I swear to fucking God—”

He shook his head quickly, cutting you off. “I won’t. I promise.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, measuring the weight of his words. Then, as if deciding you’d had enough distance, you closed the space between you in one swift motion, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth back to yours.

This time, there was no hesitation. No shyness. No lingering doubt. Just heat and certainty, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Joel’s arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn’t a millimeter of space left.

When you finally broke the kiss, his lips left yours with a soft, audible sound, one that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. You hovered for a second before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth, your tongue grazing his bottom lip. He groaned softly, a sound that vibrated from his chest to your mouth, and you smiled against him.

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill sound broke through the haze. His phone. It rang once, then twice, before falling silent again. Joel didn’t so much as flinch.

You pulled back, slightly breathless, your hands cradling the sides of his face. His lips were pink, puffy, his cheeks still flushed. His hair was mussed from your fingers, and his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—looked at you like you were something sacred.

That man was yours.

“Cassie will be back any second,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through the locks that had fallen over his forehead.

Joel hummed, leaning in to press his lips against your neck, his mustache tickling your skin in a way that made you laugh involuntarily.

“I doubt it,” he murmured, his breath warm against you. “But we could go to my place if you wanna keep talkin'. Sarah won’t be back till dinner.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his teeth grazed your neck, gentle but deliberate, sending a ripple of warmth through you that stole whatever you were about to say.

“Talk,” you managed, half a laugh, half a protest, as his lips pressed against the spot again, and the world outside the two of you felt very far away. 

“I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he kissed a slow, soft trail up to your jaw. “I wanna do things right, without arguments or interruptions.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the weight of his intention, and for a moment, it felt like everything outside of this room was suspended. Time wasn’t rushing forward anymore—it was just the two of you, existing in this space, in this perfect, quiet moment.

But just as the last word left his lips, the ringing of his phone sliced through the air, sharp and unwelcome. Joel froze for a beat, the smile on his face faltering slightly. He pulled away, reluctantly, the distance between you growing just enough for him to glance at the phone screen.

“Convenient,” he muttered, his voice holding a note of dry humor, but the amusement quickly faded as he saw the caller ID. His brow furrowed, and he answered with a steadying breath, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

You watched him, the way his posture stiffened, his focus sharpening as he listened. His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing. Your hand, which had been resting on his chest, stilled as you saw the shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw.

He stepped back slightly, as if distancing himself from the moment, his hand gripping the phone tighter as his voice lowered, more urgent now. “Which hospital?” he asked, his words clipped. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. Tell her I’m on my way—tell her not to be scared...”

You took a step forward, instinctively, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Joel...”

His eyes flicked to you, a flicker of panic crossing his features, but he quickly masked it. He stood straighter, listening intently, his body still but tense. “I... uh,” he hesitated, his gaze meeting yours, the weight of the moment sinking in. “I’ll be right there.”

The words hung in the air, and just as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed. He snapped the phone shut, his breath shaky as he shoved it into his pocket. His face had gone pale, the usual warmth drained from his expression.

“Irina’s mother is at the hospital with Sarah,” he said, his voice thick with worry. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement absent, almost frantic, as he turned toward the door, his steps hurried. You followed him, your heart now thumping in your chest, your mind spinning with the new reality of the situation.

“What happened?” The question left your mouth, but it felt cold, distant, as if the words hadn’t quite reached you. Your heart raced, the quiet stillness in your chest now replaced by a frantic pulse. “Is she okay?”

“She fell out of the treehouse,” he said, his voice breaking for a moment as he spoke, a touch of guilt in his words. “I... I...” He trailed off, unsure of what to say, his words tangled in the chaos of his thoughts.

Without another word, you grabbed your coat from the rack by the door, your fingers shaking as you pulled it on. Without thinking, you moved toward him, your hand pressing gently but firmly against his lower back, urging him forward.

“Come on,” you said, the urgency in your voice pulling him out of his fog. “I’ll drive.”

[smilesatdawnmain]

Taken Back (Part one)

“Take. Him. Home.” Macaque’s voice was sharp over the phone.

Wukong ducked his head a little, “I did. We did. We are there right now.” he says, yet at the same time, was walking out of the gates to leave said location.

“I can hear you Wukong. You are walking away.”

“I took him home!” Wukong disagreed, one hand holding a phone up to his ear, the other holding the hand of a small little cub. They walked side by side, swinging their arms a little. Behind them was a run-down, horribly smelling, poor excuse of an establishment.

It also just so happened to be the little one’s home.

“Wukong-”

“I was telling him about Xiaoxiao, and he asked if he could meet him and well- he wasn’t busy, we aren’t busy- Play date!” Wukong says with a grin. Below him, the child, a little fella named “MK” looked up with an excited smile.

With chubby cheeks, large round eyes, and the most adorable little nose, it was no surprise that Wukong's heart was being stolen.

“Mihou,” he says before his mate could say more, “If you could just see him. Just look at him for a moment…” he exhaled. Wukong had only seen him once and it was like he was under a spell ever since. He couldn’t seem to let the child out of his sight, to stop holding this little hand- afraid to let go.

Macaque sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "Wukong, I know you mean well, but you can't just take the boy whenever you please. He has a home and a family-”

“He lives in an…!” Wukong paused, whispering, “Orphanage.” Wukong's heart clenched at the thought of returning MK to that dismal place. He looked down at the little cub, who gazed back up at him with those big, trusting eyes.

“Ah-” Macaque didn’t finish. He seemed to be debating. "Wukong, he’s human.” he says when nothing else came to mind. A human in their world was at greater risk.

"I know, I know," Wukong said, his voice softening. "But just for today, hmm? A play date. Xiaotian is always looking for more friends.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Macaque spoke, his tone resigned. "Fine. But just for a few hours, Wukong. Then you need to take him back."

Wukong grinned triumphantly. "You got it, Mihou. We'll have him back before sunset." He ended the call and turned his full attention to MK, who was practically bouncing with excitement. "Ready to meet my little monkey?" Wukong asked, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.

MK nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. "Yeah! Let's go, let's go!" he jumped up and down, swinging his hand against Monkey King’s. His hero- everything he thought he would be.

MK was afraid that he would bore the Monkey King with all his endless questions. He was used to being ignored or told to be quiet by the caretakers at the orphanage if he talked too much. But the Monkey King was different. He listened attentively, never getting tired of MK's chatter. And chatter MK did when allowed. “We’re you talking to the Six Eared Macaque just now??” MK asked. “L-Liu’er Mihou. That is his other name in the book! I drew pictures of him too-” he paused, and pulled out his sketchbook to show. “The book says he is pretty with 6 ears, but it never said what else he looked like.”

Wukong tilted his head, curious if the boy had somehow heard their conversation. “That was him, yeah. He’s my mate.”

“Your boyfriend?” MK asked.

“Mate,” Wukong corrects. The child looked confused so Wukong changed the word, “Husband.”

“Ooh!” MK nodded, understanding now. “And you’re the wife??”

Wukong choked a little. He sputtered and coughed, caught off guard by MK's innocent question. "No, no, I'm not the wife," he managed to say between coughs, a warmth to his ears. "We're both husbands."

MK looked up at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But in the stories, there's always a husband and a wife. He is the husband and you-" he drawled out, giving Wukong a look that CLEARLY meant he was the wife.

Wukong shook his head, and stammered, kneeling before the boy with a slight grouch, "I am not a wife! Sometimes there can be two husbands or two wives. Love is love, no matter who it's between."

MK considered this for a moment. “So then can there be a husband, wife and husband again?”

Wukong blinked, “Um…”

“What about a wife, wife and husband?” MK continued.

Wukong scratched his cheek, “I-I guess? I mean-”

“Love is love, no matter who it’s between.” MK copied Wukong’s words, as if something in this world was finally clicking for him.

Wukong laughed sheepishly. This kid certainly had a lot of questions. But it was nice that he wanted to learn and see the world. As they walked, he watched MK open his sketch book, trying to flip to a certain page with just one hand. Wukong peered down at the sketchbook MK proudly held up, his eyes widening with surprise and delight. On the page was a drawing of Macaque, with his six ears prominently featured. While the details were a bit childlike, the likeness was undeniable.

"Wow, MK, this is amazing!" Wukong exclaimed, gently taking the sketchbook for a closer look. "You've captured Mihou perfectly. I bet he'd be flattered to see this."

MK beamed at the praise, his cheeks flushed. “Hehe.” he giggled.

Wukong mused, touching the picture lightly. He nailed his ears, his fur, his eyes… In a childish doodle, yes, but… how did MK know what color Macaque’s ears were? One orange, one yellow and one purple? Did it say that in the book? Did it say Macaque skin tone, fur color… did it explain the little dimple he had when he smiled?

Wukong didn’t know, as he had never really read the Journey to the West himself. Kind of pointless when it was something he physically was there for.

MK's drawing was remarkably accurate, considering he had never met Macaque in person. Wukong turned to the boy, his curiosity piqued. "MK, how did you know what Mihou looks like? Did the book describe him in such detail?"

MK shook his head, his eyes wide and earnest. "No, not really. The book just said he had six ears and was pretty. Was I close?” he asked, hoping he was.

Wukong paused, studying the drawing again. "You were more than close, MK. This is exactly what he looks like. It's almost as if you've seen him before."

MK's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Really? Wow, I can't believe I got it right!" He bounced on his toes, thrilled that his artistic instincts had been so accurate. Sometimes he liked to imagine when the Six Eared Macaque looked like in his dreams too. Silky fur, kind auburn eyes, and a sweet smile. Calling to him- “Moon Drop.” Though, sometimes the vision is fuzzy and like splots of color. His dreams are so strange.

Wukong stared at the piece of paper in wonder. There were no lies in MK’s words. No deceit in his presence… Actually, in contrast, MK had a very lack of presence. He couldn’t really smell him, or sense him, even with him right next to him.

He considered investigating this further, but they were starting to gather some eyes with them just standing in the street like this. Wukong hadn’t put on a glamor either, so the appearance of The Monkey King was definitely raising some eye brows.

Leaving this for later, he handed MK back his journal to put in his backpack again. “Well, let’s get going. Don’t wanna lose too much daylight,” Wukong chuckled and led the way, MK's small hand clutched firmly in his own. As they walked, Wukong pointed out various sights - a colorful butterfly flitting by, and a funny-shaped cloud in the sky. MK absorbed it all with wide-eyed wonder. Eventually, Wukong lifted the boy onto his shoulders, leaping up to the roof above.

MK squealed with delight, hugging his head tightly as he held on. Making some spitting noises, "Hair!" his face planted right into the Monkey's King's heap of orange fur.

Wukong laughed, "Sorry, a bit of a mess up there." The two shared a laugh before Wukong asked, “Afraid of heights?” he asked.

MK shook his head no. Such towering things never bothered him before. With that said, Wukong summoned his cloud, allowing it to rest before them as he settled MK on top of it. MK’s eyes were wide like saucers as he sunk into the plushness of the cloud, nearly disappearing in it’s fluff.

Wukong peered over with a wag of his tail when MK giggled.

Wukong hopped onto the cloud beside MK, the billowy surface dipping slightly under his weight. "Hold on tight, little one," he said with a mischievous grin. "We're going for a ride!"

MK's tiny hands gripped the cloud's fluffy edges as Wukong willed it forward, the magical conveyance gliding effortlessly through the air. The city below them grew smaller and smaller until the buildings looked like colorful toy blocks dotting the landscape.

"Whoaaaa!" MK exclaimed, his voice carried away by the rushing winds. Looking down, the city seemed so small and insignificant. Like a distant dream. Was this itself a dream?

Leaning against the Monkey King he clung to the man’s side, feeling secure and safe. The Monkey King smelled like peaches and sunlight- MK dind’t realize how much he loved that smell until now.

As the magical cloud soared higher, MK's initial excitement gave way to a peaceful contentment. Snuggled against Wukong's side, he felt a warmth and comfort he had never known before. The orphanage, with its cold, bare walls and strict caretakers, seemed a world away.

Wukong glanced down at the little boy, his heart swelling with affection. In such a short time, MK had captured a piece of his soul. He rubbed the boy’s back as they took the journey back home. As city turned to valleys, which turned into mountainy landscapes, a moment of lava covered lands, and then the jungle soon followed.

“My home,” Wukong says as Flower Fruit Mountain came into view beyond the lush canopy. His Home. Mihou’s. The tribes. His Son’s…

Maybe…

If he wanted, it could be this little Cub’s too…

As the cloud descended towards a clearing near the mountain's base, the tribe could be seen eagerly following after its descent. They chirped in greeting to their king, and curiosity to the little one clinging to his side.

Amid the group, a flash of bright white fur caught their eye. A tiny figure appeared, enthusiastically waving at me. It was Xiaotian, Wukong's energetic little monkey offspring, bouncing up and down in excitement, "Baba! Baba!" Xiaotian called out to warn Macaque, his high-pitched voice ringing through the jungle. "Daddy is back!" Throwing his arms up, he seemed to still when the cloud lowered enough to view. His Father upon it- but also someone else.

Someone…

XIaotian lowered his hands slowly, a strange sensation coming over him. He was alert, eyes wide. To anyone else it might seem that he was just taking in the account of a stranger coming into their midsts.

Yet, something far deeper was clicking in Xiaotian’s little head. Something he hadn’t prepared for- and didn’t know how to comprehend. It froze him in place, stiffening his joints.

Behind him, from the shadows, his Baba emerged, arm cross and staring at his husband. “He certainly is, Sun spot.” he sighed, settling his hand on his baby’s head. He glanced down when Xiaotian seemed tense, curiously brushing his hand to the child’s cheek. XIaotian subconsciously turned into the comfort, but his eyes never left his Father- or more correctly, the child his Father brought with him.

The cloud settled gently onto the ground, dissipating into wisps as Wukong stepped off with MK. The little boy clung to Wukong's hand, his eyes darting around nervously at the unfamiliar surroundings and the curious faces of monkey’s peering at him. They sniffed, but could get no scent from the child.

"Welcome to Flower Fruit Mountain, MK," Wukong said, giving the boy's hand a reassuring squeeze. "This is my home, and my family." he mused when MK half hid behind his leg. MK’s eyes were moving wildly, taking in every sight. The monkeys, the trees, the man with six ears who, as the stories had said, was very beautiful. And then…

MK's eyes landed on Xiaotian, who continued to look at him with a difficult-to-describe expression.

Whole

MK jolted, his knuckles turning white as he grasped onto Wukong’s pant leg.

MK and Xiaotian stared at each other, transfixed, as if the rest of the world had fallen away. The parents were speaking above them, some banter and slight annoyance on Mihou’s part. A nervous chuckle from Wukong.

All of it was distant, even to MK’s incredibly good hearing.

All that mattered, instead, was this boy. Like a memory from a dream.

He had never seen this boy before and yet, he recognized his eyes. Recognized the snow white fur of his arms. Recognized the butterfly marking on his face, and the dimple on his cheek. A fluff tail that seemed to move on it’s own agenda. He knew this boy.

Xiaotian tilted his head, mirroring MK's entranced expression. He took a tentative step forward, then another, slowly approaching the human boy as if drawn by an invisible force. There was a moment of tense silence as the two children regarded each other, the jungle itself seeming to hold its breath.

Above them, the adults were in the midst of a small chat- Whatever annoyance MIhou had, he held his tongue about, giving only a grumpy look. Wukong smiled sheepishly, but had no doubt his mate would understand once he had a chance to just talk to MK. When they finally looked back down the children, they saw a strange sight of two in complete awe of each other.

Yet, what happened next, Wukong didn’t know if he would ever truly understand. He expected his son, Xiaotian, to be curious of this new little boy. He expected Xiaotian to perhaps be nervous, or over eccentric. To ask a million questions on who MK was and why he was here.

What Wukong didn't expect was for Xiaotian to suddenly burst into tears, his small body shaking with sobs.

Macaque was reacting immediately, dropping to his knee in concern for their son.

“Sun spot??” he panicked, gently touching the boy’s back. They worried perhaps he was in pain, that his illness was flaring, uncertain as Xiaotian rubbed the tears on his chubby cheeks.

The pitiful cries sounded so pained. He couldn’t speak, even as much as he tried, wheezing and extending his hand out. Holding it out feebly to the one that he didn’t know the name of, but had been so desperately seeking for so his entire existence.

Wukong thought Xiaotian was reaching for him and was about to rush to his child- when MK reacted first.

He was running.

MK eyes had be wide when Xiaotian dissolved into tears, the little monkey's cries echoing through the jungle. Without hesitation, MK stepped forward, his own small hand reaching out to meet Xiaotian's.

Their fingers touched, and in that moment, a strange sensation passed between them - a flicker of recognition, of familiarity, as if their souls had known each other long before this meeting.

They felt whole. Complete.

MK was never a child who cried. Perhaps once, like any child would, he was prone to little tears and whines. His time at the orphanage had taught him quick enough that he couldn’t allow himself to cry. There was no comfort in his tears, nor did it bring any rescue from his pain.

Still… Perhaps if he was older, and his heart was more hardened, even this moment would not bring those emotions forward. He was not older however. He was not someone grown.

He was just a little boy. A little boy who had been so alone, so lost, until this very instant.

MK's own eyes welled with tears as he grasped Xiaotian's hand tightly, as if afraid to let go. A sob escaped his throat, and then another, until he too was crying openly, mirroring Xiaotian's heartfelt display of emotion.

Wukong and Macaque watched in stunned silence as their son and this human child, strangers mere moments ago, embraced each other like long-lost brothers. Xiaotian's sobs gradually quieted, replaced by soft hiccups as he buried his face in MK’s shoulder.

To start the new year, I give you the first part of

TAKEN BACK

I'll most likely make more parts, though I do not know If I will also make art to go with it. We shall see. But for now, the boys are reunited and home~

[lacydollette]

Lol, this is from my own current personal angst in my life but I was thinking it can be used for an angsty Rafe x Reader. I have very low self esteem, I don't think I look pretty so I have a hard time accepting that a guy could be interest in me or find me appealing, especially cuz guys have called ''mid''. Right now I'm talking to THE sweetest guy. THE most greenest flag of all. Super respectful, mature and kind. I had a freakout and pushed him away, wanted to stop talking. He got super upset, send me a drunk text basically being like ''I'm so attracted to u and your everything I've ever dreamt of. I just wanna make you happy and make you smile. Your so special to me. I keep saying that your beautiful, amazing and gorgeous but you won't hear it. Please don't let your insecurites get in the way of us. I fkn miss you'' I mean...hey feel free to take whatever inspiration you want from that, change it, build on it, whatever you want! We just want a sappy head over heels Rafe who is heartbroken being pushed away (but with a happy ending)

a/n tysm for sharing this with me! and please don’t let your doubts get in the way of your happiness. you are BEAUTIFUL and you MATTER ❤️‍🩹 i hope u like this little piece.

warnings rafe cameron x fem!reader, reader with low self esteem, situationship, angst, fluff, rafe being a sweetheart

Rafe couldn’t really tell when it started, but he could feel it in your forced smiles and short responses. He tried to convince himself it was nothing, but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Every attempt to figure out what he had done wrong was met with your dismissive shrug and a short, “I’m fine.”

But what Rafe didn’t know about was the chaos in your mind. You liked him—really liked him—but your insecurities were keeping you from letting yourself fall completely. You couldn’t ignore the way girls seemed to flirt with Rafe at parties, the way people whispered that you weren’t pretty or cool enough, to be with someone like him. It didn’t matter how many times he told you that you were beautiful—the doubt in your mind drowned out his words. So, you began to pull away, convinced it was only a matter of time before he realized you weren’t what he wanted.

And that’s why Rafe ended up going to this party alone, although it should have been a night that you two spend together. You had promised to go, only to back out at the last minute with a stupid excuse about not feeling well. Rafe knew you were lying. Obviously he didn’t want to go without you, but after Topper wouldn’t stop begging him, he gave in.

He spent the first hour trying to lose himself in the crowd, nursing a beer and pretending to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but it was useless. Every girl who tried to flirt with him only reminded him of you, and every drink made the knot in his chest tighten. Eventually, he escaped out into the yard, needing space to think—or maybe just to breathe.

The cool night air sobered him slightly, but not enough to stop him from pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over your contact before he finally hit call. It rang three times before you picked up.

“Rafe?” You said softly, voice trembling slightly. You winced at how vulnerable you sounded.

“hi, baby.” he said, his voice breaking slightly before going right in. “What’s going on with you? Please, just tell me. Did I do something? Did I hurt you somehow? Because if I did, fuck I swear to God, I didn’t mean to.”

Your throat tightened, guilt twisting in your stomach. He sounded so desperate, so unlike the confident, self-assured Rafe you knew. You didn't know what to say, how to explain something you couldn't even fully understand yourself.

“Talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep guessing what’s wrong. I care about you too much to lose you like this.” His voice cracked, and he raked a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. “I’m completely crazy about you. I don’t care about anyone else. You’re it for me. You’re the only one I want.”

Your heart shattered at his words. He cared about you, really cared about you. But how could he? How could someone like Rafe Cameron, with his perfect smile and effortless charm, care about someone like you?

"Rafe..." you whispered, unsure of what to say. “No,” he interrupted. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. I think about you all the time—when I wake up, when I go to sleep. You’re all I want, y/n. And if there’s even a part of you that feels the same way—then please, stop pushing me away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Rafe leaned against a tree, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. Then he heard you breathe out, followed by muffled sobs, which you tried so hard to suppress by pressing your palm over your mouth. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words sink in and erase all your doubts. But the fear was still there.

“I didn’t think I was enough for you,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “You could have anyone, Rafe. And people keep saying I don’t deserve you, and maybe they’re right.”

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice rising as he couldn’t believe that you’d actually think that. “Baby, you’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t let what other people say get in your head. They don’t know you. They don’t know us.”

Your sniffle came through the line, and he could picture you wiping your tears, head bowed like it always was when you were upset. “I just… I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” he replied softly. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.” He paused. “Please, just let me in. Let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and you believed him. Believed that he was serious about you two. “Okay.” You said. Relief washed over him, and he exhaled shakily. “Okay,” he repeated, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m coming to you right now.”

Your eyes widened, “No, Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said firmly. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you. We’ll figure this out together.” And with that, he ended the call, his heart pounding with determination. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

[pochaccoups]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

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

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

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

[sweetdispatch]

Like a bitch - J. Hughes

Purple Chemistry

summary: Jack was keeping distance between you two but still was showing up for sex on which you agreed

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), arguments, swear words

words: 1.4k

note: happy 2025!🥂

---

It was summer time. You knew that Jack is not in New Jersey but back at home in Michigan. You felt better knowing that he’s not around and won’t show up at your place just to have sex with you. You agreed on the deal but deep down, you didn’t want it. You wanted to have him back as a friend and discover your feelings towards him. 

Since the last time you saw Jack, you two haven’t spoken. He made it loud and clear that he needs you only for his release. You understood it because you broke his trust but still, you were bitter that he saw only sex in you, despite the cute moments you two shared. You held your tongue and decided to act like he wants. He held all the cards. 

You were mad that the conversation ended up this way and regretted the need to explain to him why you hadn’t told him about being a Rangers fan. You made the bed and now, you have to lay in it. You really wanted to call Jack and try to talk him through but you knew it was pointless.

Jack was still pissed at you. He couldn’t stand the fact that you lied to his face about everything. He was questioning if anything you two had was real or it was your act. In summer, he tried not to bother his head with the thoughts but it was difficult. He really liked you but for him, it looked like you acted just to impress him. 

That’s why, Jack decided not to speak to you the months he was in Michigan. He tried to collect his thoughts about what your relationship is gonna look like. When he left your apartment, he regretted saying that you two can just stay fuck buddies. He enjoyed having sex with you but he wished you two were more than this. 

At the beginning of September, Jack returned to New Jersey to start preparation for the upcoming season. You knew he was back in town and started feeling anxious. As much as you wanted to see him, you felt that it might hurt you. You tried not to bother your head with this and focus on other things but it wasn’t the easiest task.

It was a quiet Friday night. Your friends went out to a party but you were too tired after work to go with them. Instead you stayed at home and turned on your favorite tv show. You grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet and poured yourself a glass. You took a sip and the taste of the alcohol on your tongue felt like a reward. 

In the middle of the episode, you heard a ring bell. You looked at your phone to see that the clock shows 10 PM. You were confused because you didn’t expect anyone to pay you a visit that late. At first, you wanted to ignore it but then you heard the bell again. You groaned and stood up to open the door. To your surprise, it was Jack right in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him and let him enter your apartment. 

“I just wanted to spend time with you” He said and went into your living room. “Looks like you’re having fun” He pointed at the wine standing on your coffee table.

“Yeah and you’re interrupting me” You crossed your arms. 

“I thought you might want to have company” He joked.

“Seriously? You ignored me for the last few months and now you want to spend time with me?” You wanted to laugh hearing his words but decided to stay quiet.

“Okay, you got me. I need a relief and that’s why I showed up here” 

“So you want sex?” He nodded. “You could at least tell me this earlier, I didn’t shave” 

“I don’t care. All I need is your tight pussy around my dick” You blushed hearing those words. “So what do you think?” 

You haven’t responded to his question. Instead you closed the gap between you two and kissed him. Immediately, Jack grabbed your thighs and picked you up. He walked into your bedroom and put you down. You broke the kiss and started undressing yourself. He did the exact same thing. He pushed you on the bed and went to grab a condom from your nightstand, where he left them last time. 

Jack spread your legs and hung them around his waist. Slowly, he entered you and you threw your head from the pleasure. This gave him access to your neck. He started kissing and biting your neck and collarbone. You went with your hands into his hair and pulled them slightly. He was thrusting into you faster with each move. You were moaning at the feeling of him inside of you. 

You missed having sex with him and you were glad he’s taking it easy on you. Jack kissed your lips and bit your bottom lip. You grabbed his shoulder when he started hitting your spot. You felt that you’re not gonna last long. He felt that too when you started clenching around him. His dick started throbbing inside of you and you felt that he reached his high. You were undone but he quickly placed his hand on your clit to help you cum. You moaned loudly and your orgasm went through your body. 

Jack pulled out of you and went to throw away the condom. You were laying on your bed when you saw that he was putting his clothes back on. 

“You’re not staying the night?” You asked him. 

“No, I’ve got what I came for” He answered while zipping his pants.

“So I basically became your sex doll” You said and he looked at you. 

“You agreed on that, remember? If you don’t want to, we can stop and forget about each other” He shrugged but deep down, the thought of you cutting him off his life hurt him. 

“It’s fine” You stood up and went into the bathroom. “You know where the doors are”

Days went by and you started to accept the fact that Jack sees in you only sex. As much as you wanted to repair the damage you’ve done, he didn’t let you. You didn’t know that he’s doing this for his safety and not wanting to be hurt by you again. You two met up a couple more times this month for hookups until the preseason games started and he became busier.

For an irony that the New Jersey Devils played two games against the New York Rangers in preseason. You watched both games from home and you felt terrible seeing your team lost these two matches. You were telling yourself that these are only preseason games and they don’t mean anything but because of the rivalry, it still bugged you. What annoyed you even more was the fact that Jack scored three points in those two games.

Day after the second match, Jack showed up at your apartment. He did this on purpose to laugh at you about the two lost. Whole day you weren’t in a mood and the last thing you needed was to see his face. Nevertheless, you let him into your place. 

“Great two wins. I think I deserve a reward” He joked.

“In your dreams Hughes, I’m mad at you” 

“Oh c’mon. Not my fault Rangers suck” He looked at you.

“You know who really sucks? You. You showing up here and expecting me to be at your beck and call” You fought back. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked you irritatedly and you rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, so now you care” You huffed. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m out. I thought we can have a nice evening but you prefer to act like a bitch” 

“Fine!” You said a little louder than you wanted. He looked surprised at your outburst. 

Jack didn’t say anything, just left you. You sighed. The whole day went from bad to even worse. The last thing you needed was a pointless argument with him, especially when you two started becoming comfortable with each other again. You decided to go and take a shower and went straight into bed. You wanted to forget about this day. 

It took you a couple days to apologise to Jack for your reaction. You wanted to have him by your side, no matter how much he was getting on your nerves. He accepted your apologies but you felt that he’s starting to put distance again. You two weren’t seeing each other. You tried to explain to yourself that he’s been busy with the season that started but you weren’t sure of that. 

---

next chapter

[nonranghaes]

heads up: reader sucks at prioritizing their own well-being lol (also mentions of reader wearing nail polish/couple's jewelry). very light hints of reader having trauma.

seungmin, despite knowing that his snarky sarcasm was one of the reasons you fell for him, knows when you need him to be gentle. he's already settling down in the couch beside you, taking one of your hands into both of his own as he idly plays with you fingers to try and distract you. you look up at him for a moment, that same caution in your eyes you'd had for hours. he knows you. he knows you debated about doing something you called selfish (he doesn't agree, but that's not the point right this second) in what's ultimately prioritizing yourself and your own mental health. life is hard enough as it is, in his opinion. you shouldn't feel guilty for deciding on something that makes it all a little kinder.

"i'm proud of you." is what he settles on saying first. your nail polish is chipped, and he just toys with one half of your matching couple's rings rather than pick at the little flake of nail polish that's sticking up and taunting him. "i know this is hard for you."

"i just feel guilty." you frown a little, leaning your body against his own. "i mean. it wasn't that big of a deal. and it feels mean to--"

"it wasn't just making you unhappy, you told me you had a panic attack over it once. just because you have good days where it doesn't bother you doesn't mean the bad ones don't still hurt." he pauses for a moment, always feeling a little shyer when it comes to saying the things that matter most to you. "i don't like seeing you hurt. it hurts me, too."

your gaze softens as you look at him, as if the thought never crossed your mind before that the people who love you don't want to see you suffer, either. for so long, it felt like everything was only ever on your shoulders. dating seungmin has been a quiet change of pace for you. your friends care too, but something about having seungmin outright tell you the things you need to hear (even when it's hard) helps. the two of you are growing together.

he pulls the side of your hand to his lips so that he can kiss it for just a second. "i know you're still going to feel guilty... but i'm glad you did something for yourself." you deserve to be happy.

"can i be selfish again, then?"

you aren't being selfish, he wants to say. but he smiles a little, squeezing your hand. "it depends."

"i know it's cold... but i wouldn't mind going on a walk with you. or by myself if you don't--"

he wants to laugh: you're so bad at being selfish, always so mindful of him and everyone else in the world every time you try to do something for yourself. but he steals a quick peck from you before you can get carried away in your thoughts, and moves to get up so that he can bundle up for the winter weather. "let's go for a walk, then."

[bloodlineslut]

Mad at Me | Roman Reigns

Images/GIFs aren’t mine, credits to rightful owners.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! Reader

Warnings: slight arguing, pent up (sexual) frustration, smut, choking, spanking

Summary: You and your husband Roman have been bumping heads a lot lately, but he has just the thing to set you straight.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This one is kinda inspired by Mad at Me by Sexyy Red. It’s just filthy. That’s it.

“Baby, you gone stop this lil’ attitude you been having.” Roman firmly tells you while he pours some Crown Royal over ice. Lord knows he needs it.

“My attitude? Nah that’s been all you.” You sassily combat his words before flipping your goddess braids over your shoulder and walking up the stairs of your 2-story lavish home. Your plan was to just come upstairs to relax and get away from the source of your attitude, but you hear his heavy footsteps not far behind you.

You smack your teeth and roll your eyes as you walk into your shared master bedroom. “Roman, I just don’t wanna talk to you right now.” Truth be told, you’re not exactly sure why you’ve been mean to him. He hasn’t done anything wrong, really. You just wish he was at home more.

You glance up from your phone to see him firmly put his drink down on the dresser. He walks up to you and quickly takes your phone out of your hands and places it on the same dresser.

“Really?” You squint your eyes, looking up at his large figure. He had on black sweatpants and a fitted, black T shirt that displayed his muscles that looked like they were trying to break free. He’s also been getting a little more grey in his beard as the years go by, and it just makes him look even more fine.

“Yes, really. Baby, I’m getting tired of your lil’ smart ass mouth.” He admits.

Your mouth parts a little, surprised that he’s arguing back at you. Usually he keeps everything in when you get like this.

“Okay well I wouldn’t have a ‘smart ass mouth’ if you didn’t make me mad.” You cross your arms across your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts together which caught Roman’s attention for a split second.

He licked his lips, but returned back to his upset expression on his face.

“But that’s the thing! I don’t know why you’re mad!” His voice raises just a little out of frustration.

You roll your eyes and turn your head to look away from him. “I already told you why I was mad.”

There was silence in the bedroom for a bit, but it felt longer with his eyes on you, raking up and down your body.

“…I know what it is.” Roman finally says, stroking his thick beard slowly.

You say nothing, wanting to hear if he finally figured it out.

“You need some of my attention.” He tells you. You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time today.

Ugh, he has such a big ego.

“Oh please, Roman. If I want attention, I know how to get it.” You rebut his so-called realization.

“Yeah, you sure do. I haven’t been home as much, and you just need some attention.”

He walks closer to the edge of the bed, towering over you and brings one of his large hands to your chest, gently and firmly pushing you back to lay on the king-sized bed.

You don’t even have time to let out a smart ass remark because Roman captures your soft, plump lips in his. He took the lead in the kiss, caressing your lips, and you could taste the faint presence of the brown liquor. His hands wrapped around your thighs and hooked them around his waist.

You started to bring your hands to his face, but he stopped you and pinned them both to the soft mattress, and at the same time, he softly slipped his tongue into your mouth to start sloppily kissing.

All the anger and irritation that you felt towards him just seemed to melt away in his mouth as his kisses took your breath away. You let out a whimper and breathless moan.

His soft lips left your mouth, but stayed connected to your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses down your jaw, then to your awaiting neck. He licked a hot stripe up your sweet spot, then latched his lips right there and kissed and sucked it.

You bit your swollen lips and tried to break out of the hold that his hands still had on yours, pinned to the bed.

“If I let go, are you gon’ give me any more mouth?” His voice came out deeper than normal, so turned on and horny.

You helplessly shake your head no.

He unpins his hands from yours, but for some reason you keep them there, above your head. He notices this.

“Yea, you know what? Keep ‘em up there.” His lips leave your neck, trailing over your collarbone, kissing there, and then to your breasts.

“Giving me all that damn sass and shit…” He quietly growls out before wrapping his lips around your hard nipple and swirling his tongue around it. Your back arches up from the bed and closer to his mouth.

His other hand gently kneads your other breast, rolling the nipple between his thick, strong fingers.

You moaned out at the delicious feeling. It was like the pleasure from your nipples went straight down to your core, making more of your essence leak out of you and onto your pink panties.

Roman’s lips kissed across the valley between your breasts and wrapped his lips around the other nipple. His tongue swirling around it and sucking it made your head spin.

“This what you wanted baby?” He looks you dead in your eyes before resuming his delicious attack on your sensitive nipples.

You threw your head back on the bed in pleasure, unable to answer.

His lips left your nipple and you feel both of his strong hands on your waist, flipping you over on your stomach. He grabs your hips, so your ass is in the air.

You feel the bed lighten as he gets off it, but his presence is back just as quickly as it left. He took his sweatpants and boxers off, his heavy cock very erect.

You feel his hands grab and squeeze your cheeks, before landing a spank on one, and it makes you lurch forward a little.

He pulls you right back to where you were. “Mm mm. Ain’t no running, baby. You been acting like a little brat all week. I’m ‘bout to get all that outta you.” He lands another spank on your other cheek, enjoying watching the cheeks jiggle.

Roman hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and slides them off of your ass, but only pulls them down to stop at your knees.

He pulls your plump cheeks apart, seeing that little hole glistening, dripping, and squeezing around nothing.

“Unghh, Roman…please?” Your voice comes out in a whimper.

“Oh, now you wanna be nice?” He laughs. “Don’t worry baby, Daddy will get you right.” Those were the last words you hear before you felt his tongue lick up the length of your pussy.

It invaded all of your wet folds, spreading your wetness everywhere. His large hand grabbed your ass, pulling it away from his mouth, trying to spread you out as much as possible for his tongue.

You couldn’t even think straight, it felt so good. He maneuvered his skilled tongue up and down, slowly, but reaching every part of your pussy.

He then switched between flicking your exposed clit with his tongue and sucking it between his lips to get your taste in his mouth.

“Fuck, princess. You always taste so good.” He tells you then resumes back to delicately flicking your fluttering clit. He licked up to your hole, then stuck his tongue inside your pussy.

“Oohh Roman!” The words came out of your mouth before you realized it. He then got into a motion of moving his tongue in and out of your desperate hole.

This felt too good. You started to move your hips back, fucking his tongue. That made him groan out. “Come on baby, just like that.”

You were getting closer to your orgasm just by fucking his tongue when he suddenly pulled away. You looked at him over your shoulder.

“Why’d you stop?” You desperately ask him.

He smirks and kneels on the bed behind you. “Because I want you to take this dick and come on it.” He says lowly. You feel him rub the head of his heavy cock up and down your slick folds, his other hand resting on your hip.

He does this for too long. “Roman please just put it in,” You practically beg him. He doesn’t say anything but makes your wish come true. He slowly slides his thick length inside your tight pussy. He growled lowly at the intense pleasure.

He lets you get adjusted to his size, which he can tell by you not being so tense anymore. You just let your body flop against the bed.

He kept one hand on your hip and brought the other one to your shoulder, getting leverage. The first few thrusts were gentle, making you moan out.

Roman wanted you to lose yourself a couple times.

With both hands on your waist now, he increased the strength of his thrusts, but not going too hard. Just enough to make you want to run from him because it feels too good.

“I knew you just needed some dick.” His pleasure-filled voice rang out. Your face rested against the sheets. Your mouth was hanging open, not able to form words, and spit was leaking onto the sheets just like your juices were.

“Tell Daddy how good I’m digging you out.” Roman prompted and slowed his thrusts to be achingly slow, feeling every ridge, every inch of his cock rubbing against your walls.

“Mmm—it feels so good, Daddy.” You manage to get out.

He resumed his powerful, deep thrusts while looking at how your ass jiggled with each one. He raised his hand and brought a blow to your ass amid his thrusts. “You better act right after this.” He warns you.

Every thrust makes you crave more and more, so you say anything to keep him from stopping.

“I—I will Daddy. I’ll be so g—good.” You say in between your moans of pleasure and whimpers.

“Alright. Let me hit that spot for you, princess.” He forces your back to arch more so he can rub against your G-spot.

He finds it instantly, feeling you clench tighter around him.

“Oh fuck! Yesss—right there!” You scream out. He dug you out so good it made your head want to explode.

“Yeah? Come on, princess. You taking that dick so good.” Roman kept thrusting at that exact angle. You felt your orgasm quickly building and it finally hit you.

Your legs were shaking and you screamed as more of your juices leaked out and onto Roman’s dick.

He loved feeling your pussy clamp down on his dick like that and you always creamed too.

He let you ride your high, but then he gently pulled out and switched positions so that he laid on the large bed and you were straddling him. He brought your face down to his and kissed you, while positioning his length to enter you again.

Your mouth fell open in pleasure and he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. Roman wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug and drilled up into your crying pussy.

“Oh my God, shit Roman! Yo—you fuck me so good,” You moan into his ear.

“Because you was asking for it, baby.” He released you from his arms and you sat up with his hands on your hips.

Now he was making you move up and down. Slow, but hard. The combination of different styles made you feel your orgasm start to come quicker than usual. It was so intense you wanted to cry.

Roman was looking at you, biting his lip. He brought his hand up to your neck and squeezed just the slightest.

“Come on, baby.. Fuck yourself so you can come, and I’ll come with you.” Roman just always knew what to say to push you over that edge of losing yourself.

You keep bouncing on his throbbing dick and Roman feels his balls begin to tighten.

His hips meet your bouncing, more frantic, and your eyes roll back in your head as your orgasm hits you. Your walls tighten even more on his thickness, pushing him over the edge too.

Your thighs try to close together, but Roman keeps them open, his thumb landing on your clit and rubs circles on it to help prolong your orgasm as he comes inside of you.

“Fuck…” He lowly says as his mouth hangs open also.

You both try to catch your breath, both of you thoroughly satisfied now. Roman gently raises you up off of him, and wraps his arms around you once you’re laying next to him on the bed.

He kisses your forehead and you both are silent, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, Roman asks you a question.

“Did you really just need me?” He says in your ear.

You nod. “…I just missed you. I know you have to work, but—I don’t know. I guess I just let it control me..” You admit as you shyly look at his naked chest, tracing the tribal markings on his skin.

His fingers raise your chin up to look at his eyes. “Baby, you can tell me those things.” He says with honesty. You two kiss again.

“Hey, next time I’m away, and you miss me…just call me. I always answer.” He says after breaking away from the kiss. “I’ll even talk you through it over the phone.” He winks at you, making you hit his chest playfully and you both laugh before snuggling each other, waiting to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[glossykissies]

no one can tell me scott's solution to an attitude problem isn't an orgasm!!! worst mood ever and he's already backing you against wtv surface and lulling you into it with his voice - 🍓

okay but this with babydaddy!scott.

your one free day, and you’ve had one million things to do — most of them going wrong in some way, costing you money or just plain stressing you out. it’s times like this you dwell on not being in a relationship with scott, living together. yes he works alot, but he’d still be able to help you out — and at this point you would have taken anything. oh well, you’d made that choice.

evening falls, and speak of the devil — the door bell is ringing.

scott stands alone at the door, looking casual if not tired himself — and revved up from the day, you don’t even give him a chance to speak.

“wheres the baby? scott where is my baby— i told you not to leave her in the car so she better not be—” you go to shove past him, body on high alert and he effortlessly grabs you by the shoulders, rolling his eyes as he walks you back inside.

“shes with my mom, remember? i mean i did literally tell you.” he’s sassy with his response, letting go of you to close the door behind him with his foot and rubbing a stressed hand over his face. you relax instantly — despite everything, scott’s mother was good. you could tell she’d been waiting for a baby to come around, a toss up between scott and his younger siblings all similar in age. she was alot gentler in nature — it was his father that scott was more alike. strict, business-minded, sarcastic.

“right…” you sigh, wiping your hands down your clothes. “so what do you want? why are you here?” it comes out snappier than intended yet again, and scott blinks. it wasn’t often he was thrown off guard, usually able to take whatever attitude you throw at him and double it — but this wasn’t like you. you were soft, sweet, polite. he takes the moment to eye you, stress in your body language, shoulders tense, clothes and hair a little disheveled. you were still beautiful, but you didn’t look like you were doing too good.

“asked me last week to fix that bathroom cabinet. i’m here now. ring any bells?” he shakes his head and you fiddle with your fingers, breathing all heavy. you didn’t even look like you heard what he just said, just blinking as he watches the cogs in your brain turn, mind in a million places.

“uh…” you’re distracted, trying to shake yourself out of it and he sighs.

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or do i have to pull it out of you?” he deadpans and you swallow, resolve crumbling a little as your posture shrinks.

“i’m fine. just tired. baby was up all n—”

“you’re stressed. you keep clenching up your fists, your jaws all tight, could probably crack a walnut between your ass cheeks right now. why didn’t you ask me to help?” he folds his arms, accusatory — brows raised and expectant. your fists only clench tighter and your knee wobbles like you want to stomp your foot petulantly.

“i don’t need it.” your voice cracks a little.

“you need a break.” he tells you off, louder than you, sternly and you pout, eyes on his shoes. “when was the last time you touched yourself?” his voice quietened once more, and he asks like it was a regular question — like he was asking when the last time you ate was.

“wh— scott?”

“tell me.”

“i dont — when i was pregnant? maybe? i don’t see how that’s —”

scott sets his bag down, before walking at you, gently backing you up until your ass hits the little table that held the lamp beside the couch. “so too long?” he shrugs, mouth turned downwards as he starts to work at tugging up the sundress you just tugged on this morning.

“scott!” you whine, and you try to sound defiant — but it’s the whinyness in your tone that tells him everything. that lilting, high pitched mewl that he missed hearing — telling him just how badly you needed to cum.

“dont wanna hear it. you know you could have just called. i would have fixed that attitude while the babies down for thirty.” he shakes his head, rubbing his fingers familiarly over your comfy, mesh, baby pink panties— arousal already beginning to smear through the gusset just from his stern-talking-to at the door. “yeah. there you go.” you clutch his biceps for support, table wobbling under your ass as you melt— a whimpery sigh deflating from your chest.

that big hand of his slots itself inside the material, rough finger tips working you over and pushing inside after spreading your arousal and you groan, your big, tall babydaddy practically holding all your weight without breaking a sweat as he presses his lips together in concentration, trying to find that spot. “mmph— scotty!” it slips out, the affectionate rendition of his name you’d always call him when you were together. his heart skips a little and cock chubs against his thigh.

“feeling better already, aren’t you? atta girl.”

[aesthetically-dying101]

Strictly unprofessional

A/N: the very requested part two to Strictly Professional. Thank you all for the enthousiasm, it was very kind of you all (both on ao3 nd tumblr), so hooray! also look i added a dni banner (im so proud of myself), made by @mikeykuns

Warnings: smut. like this is all smut (exept the ending) but yeah, unprotected sex (wrap ur shit up), cunnilingus, p in v, fingering, female reader, nanami is a sex god apparently, don't ask me abt positions, i don't even know

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The air inside felt heavier, charged with something unspeakable. You could hear the soft drip of water from Nanami’s damp hair, see the way his chest rose and fell with measured breaths.

And God help you, that towel.

It was criminal.

It sat so low on his hips that it was barely hanging on. You forced your gaze upward, fixing on his face—his unreadable, devastatingly gorgeous face.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You tucked your arms around yourself, suddenly self-conscious in the oversized shirt and shorts you’d thrown on.

“You didn’t,” he replied simply, his voice steady. But the way his eyes moved—tracing the line of your throat, lingering on the curve of your shoulders—told a different story.

You hesitated, the words you’d rehearsed in your head earlier slipping away.

“I just…” You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. About you.”

His expression shifted—barely, but enough to make your stomach flip. A flicker of surprise, quickly swallowed by something darker. He stepped closer, his brows furrowing.

You blinked up at him, almost expecting him to make a move- to do anything.

Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Yes?” he asked softly.

He smelled like soap and something distinctly him. Heat radiated off his body, wrapping around you like a second skin.

“You’ve been in my head all night. And I—” you admitted, your voice trembling. You broke off, biting your lip.

He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he might step back, ask you to finish your sentence, put that impenetrable wall between you. But then—

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he said, his voice low and strained.

You blinked, stunned. “I—what?”

Before you could process, his hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His touch was firm but impossibly gentle, like he was holding something precious.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Do you?”

Your knees felt weak, your breath shallow.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Something in him snapped. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. The moment his lips met yours, the world tilted. His kiss was everything at once—soft and rough, controlled and desperate. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

Your hands found his shoulders, his skin slick and warm under your touch. You pressed closer, wanting more—needing more. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the feel of his body against yours sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

“Kento,” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely audible.

He groaned softly at the sound of his name, his grip tightening. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he repeated, his voice raw.

“Show me,” you murmured, your hands sliding down his chest.

Something dark flickered in his eyes, but instead of answering, he scooped you up effortlessly-fuck he was as strong as he looked, his arm sliding under your thighs. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down carefully, his eyes never leaving yours.

He knelt over you, his broad shoulders blocking out everything else. For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze heavy and intense, like he was memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost reverently.

Your cheeks flushed, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, stealing the words from your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, sliding under your shirt to find your bare skin. His touch was firm, deliberate, leaving trails of fire wherever he went.

You arched into him, your hands finding his towel. It took a moment to undo the knot, your fingers trembling, but when the fabric fell away, your breath caught. He was perfect. Every line of him, every inch, was made to drive you insane.

You reached for him, pulling him down to you, and he groaned as your bodies pressed together. His hips rolled against yours, and the friction sent a shiver down your spine.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with restraint.

For a second, your breath hitched. He was so close, his body crowding yours like he wanted to shield you from the world, to claim you and keep you all to himself. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his heat seeping into your skin, and you realized you couldn’t think straight.

Also you kinda wanted to bite his perfect skin-

“Y-you,” you stammered, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as if your words had snapped the last tether of his control. Nanami shifted above you, and for the first time, you took him in without interruption. The faint golden light from the bedside lamp played across his damp skin, highlighting every cut of muscle, every curve of strength that was somehow impossibly elegant. His body looked sculpted, as if he’d stepped straight out of some classical masterpiece.

Unfairly pretty, you thought, your breath catching in your throat. A perfect, living rendition of the David—but warmer, more alive, and infinitely more captivating.

He was all-consuming, and it was almost too much.

“Kento,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your hands roamed over his chest, marveling at the smooth expanse of his skin, the hard lines of muscle under your fingertips. He felt real and unreal all at once, and the way his body moved as he leaned down made your head spin.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw. His tone was teasing, but there was a vulnerability there too, a quiet uncertainty that made your chest ache.

“Can you blame me?” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his collarbone.

He huffed a soft laugh, but it broke into a groan as your nails dragged lightly down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abdomen.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, his voice rough, like he was trying to hold himself together.

You shook your head, biting back a grin. “I think you’re the dangerous one.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped. There was something raw in his gaze, something that burned hotter than anything you’d ever known. He dipped his head, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was hungrier this time, less restrained. His tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open, and you moaned softly into his mouth.

His fingers splayed across your ribcage, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a way that made your breath hitch. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes heavy with want.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, your hands gripping his hips to pull him closer. “Please, Kento.”

That was all he needed. In one smooth motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned down, his lips trailing over your collarbone, his hands skimming your sides as he kissed his way lower. Every touch, every movement, felt deliberate, like he was memorizing you.

When his mouth closed around your nipple, you gasped, your back arching off the bed. His tongue swirled in slow, torturous circles, his teeth grazing just enough to make your thighs clench around his hips. He shifted, his knee pressing between your legs, and the pressure sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me,” you said, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire. “You drive me insane—in the best possible way.”

Before you could respond, his hands hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down in one smooth motion. His eyes darkened further as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly like he was trying to catch his breath.

“Perfect,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them just enough to settle between them. His touch was firm but reverent, like he was handling something precious.

And then his fingers found you, tracing the slick heat between your legs. You gasped, your hips jerking instinctively, but he held you steady, his touch achingly gentle.

“You’re so wet,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Only for you.”

His groan was low and guttural, and before you could process, he was leaning down, his mouth trailing kisses along your inner thigh. The anticipation was unbearable, your entire body alight with need.

“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed softly against your skin, his lips brushing just above where you needed him most.

“Patience,” he murmured, though his voice was as strained as yours.

But when his mouth finally found you, the world shattered.

The first stroke of his tongue had your back arching off the bed, a sharp gasp tumbling from your lips. Nanami groaned against you, the vibrations sending another wave of heat coursing through your body. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he licked into you with slow, deliberate precision.

Damn him and his precision.

“Kento,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening in his damp hair. You couldn’t think—could barely breathe. Every movement of his tongue was devastating, every flick and swirl drawing you closer to the edge.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his chin glistening, his expression nothing short of worshipful.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Your cheeks burned, but before you could respond, he was back on you, his lips closing around your clit. The suction was gentle but relentless, his tongue moving in maddening circles that had you writhing beneath him.

“Please,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth.

“Please what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. His breath was hot against your skin, and the way his hands squeezed your thighs made you shiver.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breaking.

His groan was low and guttural, and he didn’t stop—if anything, he doubled down, his movements growing more insistent. His tongue flicked against you with precision, and when he slid a finger inside you, your entire body tensed, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice thick with wonder. He added another finger, his pace slow and deliberate as he worked you open. “You feel incredible.”

Your head tipped back, a string of incoherent sounds spilling from your lips. You were so close, your body coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every stroke of his tongue.

“Kento, I—” Your voice broke, your body trembling as the tension reached its peak.

“Let go,” he murmured against your skin, his tone both commanding and tender. “I’ve got you.”

And that was all it took. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked you through it, his movements slowing but never stopping.

When the waves finally subsided, you collapsed back onto the mattress, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Nanami pressed a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up your body, his hands bracketing your waist as he hovered over you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his brow furrowing with concern.

You nodded, a shaky laugh escaping you. “More than okay.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, and he leaned down to kiss you, slow and tender. You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your cheeks flush.

But then you felt him against you—hot, hard, and insistent—and the heat in your belly reignited. You shifted your hips, pressing up against him, and he groaned softly, his restraint visibly fraying.

Not so composed now? You thought.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands sliding down his back. “I want you, Kento. All of you.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, his jaw tightening as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

And he did.

He pushed into you inch by inch, his movements careful and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as if he needed to see your every reaction. The stretch was overwhelming, but the way he filled you, the way he held you—it was everything.

The stretch was agonisingly delicious, you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like he was rearranging your insides, because Nanami Kento was not a small man. Nowhere in his anatomy was he.

Thankfully, he paused midway, letting you catch your breath, peppering your face with kisses.

Then he moved again.

“God,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel… perfect.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. “So do you,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

The way he filled you, the way he moved—he wasn’t just touching your body; he was touching something deeper, something you hadn’t even known was there.

Maybe that was your cervix- who knows??

"Ke-n-" You gasped, your teeth sinking into his skin, the tip of his cock bullying your insides.

He hissed in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted you—so much.”

As the tension built between you, his Olympian control began to slip.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against your lips, his voice strained, his cock moving in and out, and you were pretty sure your brain was loosing track of time and space, because his dick was pressing, each and every time, against your g-spot.

“It’s not,” you said quickly, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the strong lines of muscle beneath your fingertips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths mingling, the way he looked at you—like you were something fragile and sacred—made your heart thrum wildly in your chest. Add to that the rhythm of his hips snapping to yours, his cock reaching deep inside you, hitting all the right spots, and you were in heaven.

He shifted his weight, pressing you deeper into the mattress, and the feel of him—his warmth, his strength, his unyielding presence—was all-consuming.

Oh wait, he was kissing you again. You let yourself get lost in him, in the way he moved, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered- because in that moment, you were.

His hands moved to your hips, guiding you as he thrust to meet you, and the two of you moved in sync, a rhythm that was all your own.

And fuck, his cock was making you see stars, every thrust was so fucking good-

"Ah-a, Kento-" You tried to line up the words, to tell him how good he was making you feel, but nothing even made sense.

He groaned in response, his lips finding your throat, kissing and biting as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“So close,” he muttered. “I can feel you… God, I can’t get enough of you.”

His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Oh you were so gonna bruise tomorrow.

Inside and out.

"Ken- fuck I'm close." You gasped out.

"I know sweetheart."

Oh okay.

You groaned, and Nanami let out a broken chuckle, his hips snapping to yours faster, his balls slapping against your ass. He was going faster and faster, the fat head of his cock alternating between your g-spot, your cervix, your g-spot, your cervix....

Then he slipped his hand down to your clit, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing small circles and- oh!

You hiccuped, your back arching, your orgasm came on way too fast, too unpredicted, too soon.

"That's it sweet girl.." Nanami mumbled, but you were milking him, squeezing way too hard. He urgently pulled out, his cock twitching against your stomach, even as your poor cunt was spazzing around nothing, but Nanami was too much of a gentleman to leave her without company.

Naturally he quickly slot two thick fingers in your quivering pussy, with his thumb slowly rubbing your clit, working you through your orgasm.

It took you a second to actually connect your thoughts back together. As you did, he slid his fingers out, covered in your slick, which he quickly popped in his mouth and licked clean, because of course, why waste?

You looked down at yourself, blinking in surprise as you saw that he had came so hard it had squirted halfway up your chest, on your tits and collarbones. You'd only wonder about the physics of that later.

Then your eyes landed on Nanami.

Oh.

Your body was still humming, every nerve alight. Nanami was always composed, always so controlled, but the look on his face now was nothing short of… adoring.

He didn’t look at you like you were just there. No, the way his gaze flickered over every inch of your face, the way his pupils dilated as he admired you—he was looking at you like you were something divine.

A goddess, a force of nature. It was as if you had turned the world upside down, made everything else fade into nothing.

His lips were swollen, still parted, and his hair was a little mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead in that charmingly tousled way.

He was so beautiful, it almost made your heart ache.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly, even though you knew it would only make him more flustered.

"You're... you're incredible," he murmured, his voice hoarse, like he'd just run a marathon, but it was far more intimate than any casual comment.

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered, your fingers lightly brushing the side of his face. His skin was warm, flushed from the exertion, and you could tell he was still shaking, just a little.

But instead of basking in the aftermath of his compliment, Nanami—ever the caretaker—shifted beside you. His breath still coming in shallow bursts, he gently pulled himself upright and reached for the soft tissue box on the nightstand.

He paused, staring at your tits overall chest- where he had came... with a very specific glint in his eyes, oh? He liked what he saw.

Then he moved. You didn’t realize just how dishevelled you both were until he tenderly cleaned you up, his movements soft and careful, as if he feared even the lightest touch would break you apart.

You let him, unable to stop the flutter in your chest. The vulnerability of the moment made you want to combust. The man has just rearranged your guts, and given you two amazing orgasms and now this??

You had always known Nanami as a man of few words, but tonight—tonight he was nothing short of tender, every movement meant more to him than you’d ever truly known.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice still thick with affection. You hadn’t even realized how still you’d become, how lost in his gaze you’d been, until he stood and gently helped you sit up.

You let him guide you to the bathroom, your body feeling a little unsteady, still buzzing from what had just happened. You noticed, as he helped you step into the bathroom, that his hands were steady—careful, protective—but there was a certain gentleness to his touch that sent a strange warmth through your veins.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern, his brow furrowed in that protective way he always had. There was no urgency, no rush. Everything felt slow and intentional. His every movement, every glance, was designed to make you feel safe, cared for.

Is he really this perfect?

Well actually you knew he was. You could see it in the way he took care of you, in the way his eyes softened when they met yours, in the way he treated you like you were something sacred.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice feeling soft and content. “Just a little… dizzy. That’s all.”

Nanami chuckled softly, and you swore it was the sweetest sound in the world-yet you could tell your comment did inflate his ego.. just a little. He wasn’t just taking care of you in the physical sense. He was taking care of your heart, your mind.

When you finished, Nanami made sure you were settled back into bed, his body never leaving yours for more than a few seconds- he slipped into boxers, and gave you the clothes you had arrived in back (your oversized shirt and shorts). He covered you with the blankets, tucking them around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You lay there, in the softness of his embrace, his warmth, his care. The space between you seemed impossibly small, yet in that quiet intimacy, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you—safe, and wrapped in the afterglow of something beautiful, something real.

And you also felt a tiny bit smug, that you had managed to get this hunk of a man in your bed.

A/N: I hope this satisfies the people that were asking for a part two!! I absolutely had to call nanami a hunk bc uhhhh why not, it a funny word, in french we have a saying: "homme capable" (translates to: "capable man"), which i think defines nanami quite well.

Masterlist.

:)

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

ChrisASMR

pairing: asmr creator Chan x biggest fan reader

genre: idek. just a little drabble

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: reader has anxiety, descriptions of being anxious and being overwhelmed.

an: i had a little day dream about my favorite asmr creator and about meeting him in public and only recognizing him by his voice and thus, a drabble was born! ig technically this is a fan fic about him (david ily), but this is a stray kids blog, so i made it a chan fic. anywhoooo, here’s whatever this is. :) love ya.

masterlist

it’s been another shitty day. that’s all you seem to have anymore. it’s just one shitty day after another. but there’s one thing keeping you sane. one thing that you look forward to every day. ChrisASMR. sometimes, you feel like you rely too heavily on his asmr videos. you try not to let yourself think too hard about that. about how it’s one of the only things that brings you joy anymore. how when everything seems like too much, you just put your headphones in and click on his youtube. how most nights, when your heart is at its heaviest, his voice is the only thing that can put you to sleep. his deep baritone, laced with australian accent, telling you all of the comforting things that you need to hear.

“its okay.”

“you’re okay.”

“i’m here.”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“you’re doing such a good job.”

and then he polishes it off with soft sounds of his breath, maybe the sound of a kiss here and there, sometimes a little story that makes him giggle, and in turn makes you giggle. sometimes it’s a comforting audio for those on their period, sometimes it’s comfort after a nightmare or after a long day at work.

and he posted a new video right before you clocked out for the day. almost as if he knew you needed it. as soon as you got home, you would shower, put on your jammies, and crawl into bed. you would drift off to sleep with his docile tones in your ear making everything better. you just had one quick stop to make first.

you pulled up to the gas pump, making sure your fuel door was on the correct side this time, and shut the car off. you took deep breaths, preparing yourself for the trek inside and the encounter you will be forced to have with the attendant. you wished you could pay at the pump, but you left your card at home and all you had was cash. you cursed yourself for being so stupid. but it was okay. at least, that’s what you told yourself. this was the gas station you went to all of the time. you went inside frequently for snacks and drinks. so what if this is the first time you will be purchasing fuel, at the register, with cash. it’s not a big deal. but the knots in your tummy said different. you gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles turning white, and took one more deep breath. then you got out of the car.

focused, thoughts racing through your mind of how the conversation might go, what you needed to say. ‘$20 on pump four please.’ that’s all you had to do. you entered the busy store and got in line. the elderly woman in front of you was buying her lottery tickets, taking her time in picking which scratchers she wanted. you nervously shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

a middle aged man got in line behind you, standing way too close for your comfort. you inched forward, trying to put some space between your bodies, but he also inched forward. your hands began to sweat as another person got in line behind the man with no concept of personal space. the classic rock music was loud in your ears, the sounds of people talking and the glass cooler doors opening and slamming shut, the sound of the beeping as the bored looking attendant scanned the scratch off tickets one by one.

and you thought the bell above the door ringing would be the thing that pushed you over the edge. as grandma dug around for quarters in the bottom of her purse, you looked up to see who had entered the store, causing the ringing that you felt like would be your thirteenth reason. and the man that walked in was.. incredibly handsome. he gave you a small smile and a nod before heading for the drink coolers.

“i can help whoever is next.”

the man standing too close to you cleared his throat, jolting you out of your wide eyed daze. the old woman had left with her lottery tickets and you were next in line. you approached the counter.

“uh, could i get $20 on pump four please?” you asked. the teenage attendant nodded before punching some buttons on her screen. she looked at you. and you looked at her. you could feel everyone in line behind you also looking at you, staring a hole into the back of your head.

“that will be $20..?” the attendant said, holding out her hand.

duh, you needed to hand her the money. you held out the fifty dollar bill, damp with sweat from your palms and crumpled from your harsh nervous grip. the worker held it up to the light, checking the legitimacy of the note. you glanced around nervously, silently wondering if it was counterfeit. though you knew that was a ridiculous thing to be worried about.

the man behind you felt like he was inching closer and closer, pressing you against the counter. finally the attendant punched some buttons on the screen and the cash drawer popped open. she counted out your change, which was all in five dollar bills, and handed it to you. you thanked her as quickly as you could, before shoving the bills in your pocket and rushing out the door.

once in the parking lot, you took a deep breath of fresh air. it helped a little, though you still needed to pump the gas. but you told yourself that the hard part was over. you approached your car and lifted the nozzle from the pump, placing it into your gas tank. as the numbers on the screen ticked by, you let your mind wander to the handsome stranger in the store. how his dark curly hair and dark eyes called to you. his black t-shirt was pulled tight over his muscled chest. in another life, maybe you would have been brave enough to talk to him. brave enough to put yourself out there and shoot your shot. but in this life, you could never. you wondered what his voice sounded like..

“excuse me, miss?”

your eyes went wide. your heart racing. not only were you anxious that someone was talking to you, but.. you knew that voice. you turned to face the stranger, only to find the handsome man you had just been day dreaming about.

he held out a crisp $5. “i think you dropped this on your way out of the store.”

you looked at the bill in his hand, and then back up to his face. he was smiling at you, a dimple in his cheek catching your attention.

“oh.” was all you said. you couldn’t form any other words. what were words? how could you speak in front of this man who looked like he was carved by michelangelo himself? and you were almost certain you recognized that voice. it was your favorite voice. the only voice that could lull you to sleep at night.

you managed to reach out and take the money from him. “thank- thank you.” you stuttered.

just then the gas pump clicked off, startling you into a jump. flustered, you whipped around quickly attempting to remove the nozzle and place it back in its cradle. but your hands were shaky and sweaty, the hose was tangled, and you couldn’t get it turned around right. you struggled for what felt like ages before a familiar giggle graced your ears.

“would you like some help?”

he approached you slowly, making eye contact with you before gently taking the pump from your hands. he maneuvered it around easily, and hung it back in its rightful place. and then he took a step back, giving you plenty of room to breathe.

“there we go.” he smiled.

your brain was going a million miles a minute, racing with thoughts telling you to run, hurry up and get in your car and leave. but there were other thoughts saying that this is your dream man and this would be your only chance. what are the odds you would meet your favorite asmr creator out in the wild? at least, you were ninety nine percent sure it was him. he was an anonymous creator, so you had never seen his face, but you would know that voice anywhere. the voice that brings you peace. while you wrestled with your inner monologue, he held his hand out again, this time is was empty.

“it was nice to meet you.” he said, waiting for a handshake. “my name is Chris.”

okay now you were ninety nine point nine percent sure.

you took his hand, praying to god he wouldn’t notice how clammy your palm was. “uh.. y/n.” you said, half ass introducing yourself.

“beautiful name.” he smiled, before squeezing your hand gently and pulling away. “careful with that $5.” he said, pointing to the money he had handed you moments ago. “it’s sneaky.”

and with that, he gave a small wave, and walked across the lot to his car. you stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before climbing into your own car. you were ready to get home and listen to the new audio. but, you wondered, would this ruin it for you? now that you’ve seen him in person and know what he looks like..? or would it make it better? more enjoyable?

before putting the car in drive, you reached for your wallet, wanting to store the money so you wouldn’t drop it again. and as you slid it into the fabric slot, you noticed writing along the margins.

it was a phone number, followed by a name. chris.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

i’m actually kinda proud of how this turned out. thanks to @httpdwaekki for the encouragement to write it. :)

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[cryptonymdc]

Headcanons -> How they Hide their Identity from you (GN Reader)

Pt. 4

Warning : Talks of drug addiction and family deaths.

Arsenal / Red Arrow | Roy Harper 

With the power of the truth. Roy Harper has lived a life outside of vigilantism, and when told without the hero, the story looks like the whole picture. So Roy tells you the truth, minus the crime fighting, and you don’t have any reason to think there's more to it. The story is already a lot. 

I mean, being raised by a single dad who dies, getting adopted by a dad who dies, and then adopted by another dad, and then becoming a single dad. It’s a lot. He told you a bit about his biological dad, and how he never knew what happened to his mother. He doesn’t like to talk about his death, just because it was so long ago and it feels odd to open that wound now.

He tells you a lot more about his first adoptive father, Raymond Begay, better known as Brave Bow. He’s who gave Roy his Navajo heritage, at least he thinks so since he never knew his mother, and if he told you about being Arsenal then you’d learn it was Raymond who inspired him to be a hero. But you don’t know that part, and instead you comfort him over the events of the Forest Fire. 

His story of Oliver Queen, his current father figure is much different. There's both a connection and an estrangement there, and it’s hard to untangle. Roy confesses to you about his struggles with addiction, which colors a lot of his actions today. The help groups, the charity, the volunteer work, it’s clear he feels guilt on an incredible level and is trying to make up for it somehow. You try to reassure him that his addiction was not a crime to the world, only to himself, but since you don’t know about his work as Red Arrow, he can’t take your words to heart. You don’t know what happened, really, even though it feels like you know everything, that he’s shared everything. 

And being a single father to boot, it’s a lot of responsibility. And he is so involved and present in Lian’s life, taking care of her every single day, it’s hard to imagine him anywhere else. It’s amazing to hear his life story and see the support system he still has, and his gaggle of friends who jump to help him whenever he asks. 

And after all of that, how could Roy Harper be Arsenal, or even Red Arrow? 

Nightwing | Richard “Dick” Grayson 

With the power of practiced, boyish charm. What can he say, he learned a thing or two from his dad. The only difference is that it’s less of a practiced facade and more just him, minus one or two details. He actually relies a lot on his dad as an excuse for why he isn’t Nightwing. Everyone knows Nightwing was the first Robin by now, and if he was Nightwing, well then he would have had to be Robin, and that would mean Bruce Wayne would have to be Batman. And Bruce Wayne could never be Batman. 

Nightwing is known for acrobatics? And Dick was not only born an acrobat, but shows off how flexible he is to you all the time? Yeah, who’s to say Nightwing wasn’t trained in it as he became a hero? There are tons of acrobats, why would Dick just so happen to be Nightwing? If it comes to it, Dick will diss Nightwing’s skills as an acrobat. Because Dick would like not to look like an idiot or less skilled to his partner, and they don’t need to think Nightwing is cool as long as they think Dick is cool. Same thing really. 

As for the various bruises and wounds that he gets, well, you can’t forget his occupation. Rich gothamite? Kidnapped all the time, that’s where all the old scars are from. And the new ones? He is a police officer. He gets into combat all the time on duty. That’s the easy part to explain. 

The hard part to explain is why he’s never in bed before 1:00 AM. He tried to use talking with his brothers as an excuse, and while that works for weekend trips to visit them, it doesn’t last. In the end he has managed to convince you he has ADHD and insomnia because of it, he just has to tire himself out before bed. You're not entirely convinced it’s not a sugar addiction, or cereal to be exact, instead, but oh well. It works, and that's what matters. 

He’s luckily had a lot of practice keeping his identity secret, and that’s his biggest advantage in this. He’s kept this secret from countless others before you, you’re not a new challenge. Although, that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable a secret to keep. He’d love to tell you, but he’s been burned before, and he needs to be sure. 

So Nightwing isn’t Dick Grayson, for now.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Full of Surprises » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend/Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend/Enhanced!Reader, Steve Rogers x Sister/Enhanced!Reader with Sam Wilson/Falcon

Summary: As if the day wasn’t filled with enough surprises, Steve finds out his younger sister is alive and she’s dating his best friend.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, mention of HYDRA, kissing, pet names

A/N: This takes place during Captain America: Civil War. Also, the reader has the same powers as Wanda, but they’re blue.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were hiding in the same building as Bucky, Steve, and Sam. You were two rooms away from them as they were talking. Bucky was explaining to Steve and Sam everything HYDRA has done over the years. What Steve doesn’t know that his younger sister is alive. Yes, you’re the younger sister of Captain America. You wanted to wait it out for a moment before revealing yourself to your older brother.

“I knew something like this was going to happen. I just didn’t know it would happen like this.” Bucky says apologetically and sincerely.

“None of this is your fault, Buck and you know it.” Steve says softly.

Bucky looked down at the ground. There was something else he had to tell Steve. He just didn’t know how to tell him. How does someone tell anyone that he’s dating his best friend’s younger sister? Especially his best friend.

“Buck, what is it?” Steve asks.

Bucky took a deep breath and looked up at Steve. He was nervous to tell Steve that he’s dating his younger sister. It’s not like it’s the 1930’s or 1940’s where he can straight up tell him that he’s in love with his sister. Steve probably would’ve been more understanding back then, but he’s not too sure about now.

“There’s something else you need to know.” Bucky says.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Steve says.

“It’s about Y/N.” He starts.

“My younger sister Y/N? What about her?” He asks.

“You have a sister?” Sam asks Steve.

“Yes. She died years ago.” He tells him.

“She’s alive.” He tells him.

Steve’s eyes went wide in shock.

“No.” Steve said. “That’s not true. She’s dead. I seen her death certificate.” He says.

“It’s fake.” Bucky said. “HYDRA somehow got their hands on Y/N years ago and experimented on her and made her enhanced.” He explained. “She’s a Super Soldier with powers.” He says.

“As much as I want to believe that, it’s not true.” He says, being in denial.

“It’s true.” Bucky confirms. “I’ve seen her.” He tells him.

“You’ve seen her and you didn’t tell me?” Steve asks.

“She made me promise not to tell anyone. She was scared that HYDRA would come after her.” He says.

“It’s true.” You spoke up.

Steve turned around to see you walking towards him. He looks like he just seen a ghost.

“Hi, Stevie.” You say softly with a smile.

Steve walked up to you and gave you a tight hug, picking you up off of your feet. He never thought he would get the chance to see you and hear your voice again, but here he is.

“I missed you.” Steve whispers.

“I missed you too.” You whispered back. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You say.

“It’s ok. I’m just happy that you’re alive.” He says softly.

Steve gently put you back on your feet and you introduced yourself to Sam. You then walked over to Bucky and gave him a hug.

“Did you tell him?” You asked Bucky.

“Not yet.” Bucky answers.

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, looking from you to Bucky.

You and Bucky nervously looked at Steve. You two weren’t sure how he’s going to like the idea of his younger sister and his best friend dating. If it was the 1940s, Steve would probably be more supportive. You two aren’t sure about that in this very moment.

“Me and Bucky are together.” You tell your older brother.

“What do you mean you and Bucky are together?” Steve asks.

“Y/N and I are dating.” Bucky tells him.

Steve stared at you and Bucky in silence, trying to process what you and Bucky just told him.

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?” Sam asks Bucky.

“Yes.” Bucky answers.

This came out as a surprise to Steve, but at the same time, it didn’t. When you guys were younger, Bucky was always flirting with you and you had a huge crush on your older brother’s best friend. Steve being the older brother he is, told you not to go out with Bucky cause he was trying to protect you. He also knows Bucky’s track record when it comes to dating and none of those relationships lasted long and didn’t end on not so good terms.

“You didn’t listen to a word I told you, did you?” Steve looks at you. “I told you what would happen if you date Bucky.” He says.

“Steve, I’m not 16 anymore. I can do whatever I want now and what I want is to date Bucky.” You say.

“I know.” He said. “All I’m doing is trying to protect you.” He says.

“So is Bucky!” You say, raising your voice.

Steve rose his eyebrows at you in surprise. So was Bucky. You’ve never raised your voice at your brother. This is first for you and him.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice.” You apologized. “But Bucky has been protecting me too.” You tell him.

Steve silently stared at you for a moment before rubbing his hands on his face and running his fingers through his hair.

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asks.

“Since the day we fought on the bridge when I was under HYDRA’s control.” Bucky answered.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back so he was looking up at the ceiling.

“My best friend and my little sister.” Steve says to himself and then looked at you and Bucky. “My best friend and my little sister.” He says again.

Bucky’s arm tightened its grip around your waist. You nervously played with Bucky’s hairs.

“Can you please be supportive and happy for us, Stevie?” You asked in a pleading tone.

Steve looked at you and then Bucky. He did that a couple more times before sighing and putting his hands on his hips and putting his focus on Bucky for a moment.

“I won’t hesitate to beat your ass if you hurt her or break her heart.” Steve says, being the protective older brother he always has been.

“You know I’m not going to hurt her or break her heart, Steve.” Bucky confirms.

“Good. Now that we’re on the same page…” Steve walked closer to you and Bucky. “I will try my best to be supportive and happy for you two.” He says.

You practically squealed and hugged your older brother. Steve chuckles softly and hugs you back. You then turned to Bucky and kissed his lips.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Steve pulled you and Bucky apart. “That doesn’t mean you two can kiss in front of me.” He says.

You and Bucky laughed when Steve said that.

“This is sweet.” Sam chimes in. “But we need a plan if we’re going to do this.” He says.

“You’re right.” Steve says.

“I know a guy.” Sam says.

“I can help too!” You say.

“I don’t know, Y/N. This is going to be dangerous.” Steve says.

“I have powers.” You enlightened a red ball of energy in your hand. “Just so you know, my powers are very useful in situations like this.” You say.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky says, agreeing with you.

Steve looked at you for a moment and sighed before saying anything.

“Ok, fine.” He finally says.

“Yes! Let’s do this!” You say, pumping your fist in the air.

“Your sister is cool, man.” Sam says to Steve.

“Too bad she’s mine.” Bucky says, wrapping his arm around your waist and narrowing his eyes at Sam, making you giggle.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[lolitastories]

Ringing

Bucky Barnes

Description: Y/N helps him out with the ringing. She distracts him with something she has been wanting to do for awhile.

I was currently in the kitchen preparing a drink for Bucky and I. It seems today was a hard day for him and it was becoming worse due to the ringing in his head. He tells me it was the effect of what Hydra did to him as the winter soldier. He would keep the radio, tv, or force himself to be in a crowd just so it would drown out the noise a bit. I look over from the kitchen island to the couch where he was sitting and notice his hands placed over his ears. His body slumped over with his eyes forced shut. I set the glass down and immediately rush over and kneel in front of him. He described it as a phantom sound. The transition to the winter soldier always peered in once in a while. The last time he had one of them, he told me it was 2 years ago but it was never this bad. I gently wrap my fingers around his wrist and he allows me to peel his hands away from his ear. His eyes are still shut and he slowly shakes his head. He had told me all about his time as the winter soldier, I could see his regret each day even if he seemed happier. When I met him he was afraid to come close to me and when he explained everything I knew why. As a school teacher I am around kids most of the time and it took him a while to come around the idea. We have been dating for almost 5 months and he has been nothing but respectful and a true gentleman. So it pained me to see him struggle, I had to do something. With still a grip on his wrist I move them to give me space to straddle him. Moving closer to him I could hear his unsteady breathing, even a light cast of sweat on his forehead. I didn’t say anything, I just hoped my actions would get him distracted from the ringing. I let go of his wrist and moved my hands up his waist to grab a fist full of his black shirt. My lips fell to the accessible space between his neck and I started to place some kisses. Soon those kisses turned into tasting him, sucking on the spot and once he groaned I knew it was of dislike. “Doll,” He whispered. He pushed his head back and kept his eyes closed. His hands gripped my hips and I involuntarily began to grind on his lap.

“I want to make you feel better” I whisper as I continue my movements and kisses. His throat moans as my kisses move lower. He pushes my hip forward with more force making me groan at the sudden friction.

“You don’t have to” He struggled to get out as his words were mixed with moans and unsteady breathing. In our relationship we had yet to be this intimate. I know he was holding back but I was tired of it. I was ready and I knew we both wanted it badly.

“I know.” I pull away just enough to see his face. “I want to.” He opens his eyes. His blues looked intensely at me. “I have been wanting you to fuck me for so long that looking at you this vulnerable gave me the right opportunity to take advantage of you” He closes his eyes but this time he lets out a chuckle. He knew I was teasing him but before he could change his mind I began to rock my hips again. “Will you allow me to take advantage of you?” He grips my hips once again.

“Honey, I will allow you to do anything to me.” He lifts up his head, crashing his lips onto mine. My hands ramage to grip onto his hair pulling him closer. It was so little but my whole body was burning up with his lips and our bodies grinding like two teenagers. I moaned into his mouth and he took the chance to slip his tongue in. Messy and sloppy was becoming our kisses as the lower part of my stomach was twisting in pleasure.

“Bucky,” I moans, pulling away. My head falls against his shoulder. His hands still gripping my hips pushes us with much force. “I need you” I groan sitting up. His eyes find mine once again and he nods.

“The ringing is gone,” He whispers. He grabs onto my bottom and stands up with me. My legs wrapped around his waist. “I can give you my full attention all night” A mischievous grin appears as he starts walking towards his bedroom.

“All night?” I choke out. It was only 5 in the afternoon right now.

“I know once I get a taste of you, I won’t be able to quit until I am satisfied,” Holy shit.

[tavs-brainworm]

Got something NASTY cooking for my fellow sub!Ascended Astarion enjoyers, and I'm finally far enough into it that I feel comfy posting a preview. There's no telling when it'll be finished but I'm just frothing at the mouth to share it.

More under the cut (~750 words) for those of you who want to read about two deeply pathetic people having terrible sex. Enjoy.

** Quick note: There's nothing too crazy in this preview (just a little blood and orgasm denial), but keep in mind that the full version will come with a very long list of content warnings, including blurry consent and ptsd flashbacks. Unfortunately my Tav is a bad person and subsequently a bad dom. ** Btw Io rhymes with Leo **

Astarion squirms, pushing against her finger and the warm hand on his hip to communicate his frustration, but Io’s touch remains measured and pianissimo and not enough. Her humming ends in a melodic chuckle.

“I’m not neglecting you, am I, love?”

Astarion huffs and drawls sarcastically, “Oh, don’t mind me, darling. You said this would be your pleasure, remember?”

Another laugh and the finger withdraws from him completely. Astarion grinds his teeth to keep a whine from slipping out.

“And everything that is mine is firstly yours, is it not?” She leans over to pour more oil in her hands, rubbing them together to warm it. “I’m yours to command, always. If this isn’t to your liking then, by all means, turn me over and fuck me however it pleases you.”

Astarion’s teeth grind harder as Io gives the tip of his cock a chaste kiss, and her finger returns to its leisurely massaging of his hole. Her offer is… tempting. It was surely meant as a taunt. Astarion knows that Io would, in fact, be more than happy to play pillow princess for the rest of the night if that was what he wanted from her, and, often, it is.

But that’s not what he wants tonight. Astarion can admit to himself that he’s come to crave this kind of attention from her, and it’s been too long since the last time she offered this.

“You would try to trick me into doing all the work, wouldn’t you, you greedy little thing?”

Io grins toothily up at him, and Astarion thinks he might have told the little devil exactly what she wanted to hear. “Don’t you worry, love,” she says, finally, finally, pressing into him for real, and Astarion lets out a sigh of release. “I know what you need.”

Io pumps her finger in and out of him, slowly, not yet going for his spot. She wraps the fingers of her other hand around his cock, pumping him there, too.

Astarion sighs blissfully, sinking further into the sheets. Io’s touch is skilled and confident, but not like his. Fingers trained to draw sound from string, not bodies, and the working of her hands is rhythmic and deliberate, in and out, up and down. A second finger joins her first inside him, the two of them pumping a steady rhythm and just barely teasing the edge of his prostate, feather light pressure that makes Astarion’s breath come hard and his hands clench into fists around their silk sheets.

A bead of precum dribbles out of him and – Gods, he should’ve asked for this sooner, it’s not like Io has ever told him no – she swipes over it with her thumb, adding his slick to the oil before Astarion can think too hard about how worked up he is over so little.

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” she coos, moving up to kiss him on the mouth. The praise and the thick curtains of her hair fall around him like a pleasant haze, and Astarion wraps a hand gently around her throat to keep her close.

At last, Io drags her fingers hard over his spot and Astarion moans unabashedly into her mouth where she devours it, kissing him so hard that fangs gnash into flesh and they taste the mixing of their blood. Io whines, chasing the taste of him, and Astarion’s grip on her throat tightens in tandem with hers on his cock, and, for a moment, it seems things might be nearing their end mournfully soon as Astarion can’t help but to buck his hips up into her grasp and grind down on her fingers caressing the inside of him, over and over and over, his pleasure bubbling up from his throat and from his cock and it’s so good, Io is so, so perfect, so good for him, so-

The hand on his cock stops. Io clamps firmly around the base of him and withdraws her fingers. The moan halfway out of Astarion’s throat ends reedy and high-pitched as his hips buck against the cruel grasp, chasing a climax now hopelessly out of reach. Frustration keeps his grip tight around Io’s throat, but when Astarion opens his eyes, she looks no worse for wear. She stares at him hungrily, licking the blood smeared on her lips.