#thank you so much to ask again!!!! it means a lot that someone want to hear me ramble<333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[rafesbabyg1rl]

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there. 

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back. 

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is. 

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.” 

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks. 

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you. 

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you. 

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight. 

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face. 

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream. 

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man. 

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away. 

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this. 

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.” 

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low. 

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately. 

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly. 

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this. 

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good���give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger. 

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need. 

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t. 

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you. 

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process. 

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you. 

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine. 

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud. 

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him. 

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum. 

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere. 

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with. 

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter. 

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs. 

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” 

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet. 

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself. 

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries. 

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him. 

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of. 

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh. 

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction. 

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle. 

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead. 

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did. 

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…” 

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm. 

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.” 

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly. 

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self. 

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously. 

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.” 

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again,  passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was. 

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you. 

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole. 

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?” 

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

[ssentimentals]

hii nini!! could i request vernon + soft prompt 24?

love your writing smm hope ur doing well!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

hi baby!! aw, thank you so much, hope you're doing well too! thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'you have a beautiful soul.'

you're not a stranger to the compliments. people comment on your physical appearance more often than not and while you obviously find it flattering and nice, you cannot help to find these words shallow and meaningless. when you put your effort into the work with your whole heart and then don't hear a word about your skills but instead get 'and you are so pretty!' is... discouraging. you wish someone mentioned something, anything else - about your work ethic, how hard working you are, how sincere you're in your approach to all of the animals in the shelter-

'your pretty face is really doing wonders to this shelter, by the way. i think a lot of people stop by just to look at you.' jaehyun, main owner, says. he's smiling like he just told the best joke ever.

you know that he means well, but your smile is still forced and you only nod at him, not offering anything else as he bids you and vernon goodbye. with your head down and full focus on a new puppy, you miss vernon's worried gaze and how he looks thoughtful, staring at the way you gingerly wash puppy's ears.

'he didn't mean to downplay your work here,' he eventually says, surprising you. vernon is not very talkative and mostly you two work in relative silence. 'jaehyun, i mean. he didn't mean it like you think.'

'no, i know.' you smile and it's forced again. you quickly glance up, meeting his gaze before instantly looking back down. 'i get it.'

vernon stares at you for some more moments before blurting out: 'i think you have a beautiful soul.' you face must show how shocked you are, because he blushes a little and shrugs like what he said haven't just pulled the ground from your feet. 'i- sorry. it's not like you were interested in my opinion.'

your heart is at your throat as you stare up at him, mouth agape. 'you- really?'

vernon looks up at you, slightly confused. 'yes? i mean yeah, yes.' and then after some hesitation he asks: 'you don't think so?'

you don't know what to think. you, in fact, are few seconds away from bursting into tears and that is embarrassing. 'thank you,' you manage to whimper before tears come falling. 'it means a lot.'

vernon's expression softens and he silently hands you pack of tissues, looking at you as if you're the most fragile thing that should be treated with all the delicacy. you sniff and he pretends to be engrossed at his work, carefully taking puppy from your lap. 'take your time,' he says gently, smiling at you and pointing towards the toilets. 'it's all okay.'

vernon is not judging you for this stupid outburst and nor does he find it embarrassing. if anything, he wants to reassure you even more, tell you how wonderful he thinks you are, but one step at a time, he guesses. one step at a time.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[milla-frenchy]

So happy to read them again 😍😍

You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

This is so beautiful and vivid 😍😍

There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

I loved all of this. Reading her emotions, feeling them. Poor baby 😥

"What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

omg this is beautiful. I love how careful she is

"Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

I didn't plan to have my heart broken on a wednesday afternoon after work oh nooooo 😥😥😥

"S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

And this?! This hurts so much, and, it's so true...

When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly,  the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

❤️❤️❤️ I love this so much

And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind. "Stay. Please stay." But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally.

Why didn't youuuuuuuu 😭😭😭

"I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—"    "You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."  

omg what? 😍😍😍 Odiiiiii you have me on an emotional roller coaster what are you doing to meeeeeeee

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself.

uuuuuh you're really trying to kill me here

Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about you bein’ a burden? Dammit, I don’t care about that! I care about you not gettin’ yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to listen!”

I ALWAYS love when Joel tells someone they're stubborn. I always cackle, cause LOOK WHO'S TALKING, SIR 😂😂😂

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

Damn. Speechless. Odi if I catch you!!! (I'm gonna send you a lot of gifs to take revenge 😌😏)

Howdy Honey II. Beautiful Mess

Series Masterlist * Masterlist * Wordcount 6.6K

Summary: Joel grapples with his frustration and fear after you push him away

Warnings: the fluff before the smut! Some angst and mentions of loss

Notes: Thank you for the long wait for this chapter. Getting back into it with these two has been so much fun! I am very excited for the next chapter heheh. I can foresee three more chapters, which I will hopefully have out at a decent pace. Ty @evolnoomym for reading this over ♏️🌙

You

The first rays of morning light filter through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. The ranch outside is waking up, the sounds of hooves and rustling hay mingling with the birds' early songs, but inside, there is a stillness. The air is cool, soft, and peaceful before the day fully begins. You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

The potted plant in the corner catches your eye as its leaves flutter in the breeze coming through the open window. The subtle movement is a welcome distraction, drawing your focus away from the twinges of pain in your side, from the dull ache that’s become your constant companion. It's not the worst pain you’ve felt in your life, but right now, in the stillness of the room, it feels like the only thing that matters. You wish you were in your own bed, in the comfort of your familiar space. You can almost picture it—your room upstairs, the soft quilts, the shelves filled with books you've collected over the years. But the reality of your situation makes that impossible. The mere thought of climbing the stairs sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, reminding you that independence is a luxury right now, not a reality. You’ve always been fiercely independent—too proud, maybe, to admit when you need help. The idea of relying on Joel, especially now, when every moment around him seems to stir something inside you, feels almost too much to bear. When you were healthy, those stairs were nothing. You could run up them without thinking twice, bounding up two steps at a time. Now, the idea of even attempting it is enough to make your chest tighten, a reminder that things have changed. You can’t ignore it.

Joel has offered more than once to carry you up to your room, insisting that you’d be more comfortable in your own bed. But each time, you've turned him down. It’s not because you don’t trust him. You know he’s kind, that he genuinely wants to help, but the thought of him lifting you, of feeling his strong arms around you... it stirs something in you—something complicated. It's not just physical pain you need to recover from. There’s a tangle of emotions you can't unravel yet, especially not with Joel so close. Instead, you remain on the couch in the living room, finding comfort in its familiar layout. The space is small, but it feels like everything you need is within reach. The kitchen is just a few steps away, and the thought of being able to grab something to eat or drink without too much effort is a small but significant source of relief. You don't have to ask anyone for help every time you need something. The books and movies you've scattered around the room are close enough that you can slip into another world with little more than a turn of your hand. There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

But perhaps the most comforting part of this setup is Joel—always nearby. You know he’s there, moving around the ranch just out of sight, yet still within earshot. You can hear the faint sounds of him tending to the animals, the creak of the barn doors, the rustle of hay and boots on the dirt. It's not quite company, but it's enough. If something were to go wrong—if the pain in your side flared up again or you needed assistance in a way you couldn’t manage—Joel would be there in an instant. The thought of him close by, ready to step in, is both a comfort and a quiet reminder of how much you rely on him these days. You tell yourself that you don’t need him, but there's an undeniable warmth that settles in your chest knowing he’s just a room away. Still, the idea of needing help from him, especially in such a vulnerable state, stirs something deeper in you. Something that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly, a feeling that you can’t quite define. It’s easier this way—on the couch, within your little bubble of semi-independence, where your emotions can stay tucked away, just like the soft blanket Joel brought you.

You glance over at the cover of one of his daughter’s western novels, the title catching your eye. There's something about it that piques your curiosity, stirring questions you hadn’t meant to ask. Who is she, this daughter of his? Was she older? And then, the question that sits uncomfortably in your mind: Is Joel married—or was he? You’ve never seen a wedding band on his finger, never heard him speak about a wife. The mystery about him lingers, unresolved. You know you should be resting, but your mind refuses to settle. You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket as you try to distract yourself. Your eyes drift back to the book on the table—a well-worn copy of Lonesome Dove, its spine cracked and pages dog-eared. Something about the worn edges calls to you. It's a link to the world you grew up in, a reminder of the ranch life, of the toughness and independence that runs through your veins. You never could quite leave the ranch, even when you tried. You reach for the book, your fingers brushing against the paper's texture, the act of holding it feeling almost like coming home. You open the cover to the first page, the familiar scent of ink and aged paper filling your senses. As you dive into the world of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, the stories of cowboys and cattle drives pull you in. You’re captivated by Gus and Woodrow—two men bound by their pasts but so different in their approach to life.

As you read, you find yourself identifying with Lorena Wood, Gus's girlfriend. Her fight for her place in the world, her refusal to let others define her, resonates with you deeply. The scene where she insists on joining the cattle drive despite the objections of the men speaks to something inside you. The words, “I ain’t afraid of a little hard work,” echo in your mind, a mantra of defiance that you wish you could adopt fully. You can’t be weak. You won’t be.

"Dreamin’ is free, Lorena," Gus says to her, his voice a mix of wisdom and weariness. "It don’t cost nothin' extra to dream good dreams."

The words settle over you, and for a moment, you close your eyes. You think of Joel—his gruffness, his strength, the way he moves through the ranch with a quiet intensity. He’s always there, a steady presence in your life. You can’t help but wonder what kind of man he was before, what dreams he once had, what kind of life he led. Your thoughts drift, pulled back into the story before you can get too lost in them. The sun climbs higher in the sky, its light streaming through the windows, warm now, settling into the room. You glance at the book beside you and set it aside with a small sense of pride. You've made it through several chapters without letting your mind wander too much.

Your side aches more now from sitting too long, and you know it’s time to try standing. It’s been too long since you felt any sense of control over your own body. You push the blanket back, and slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. The room tilts slightly as you plant your feet on the floor, and you take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sharp twinge in your side. You hate this. Hate feeling weak. Hate needing help. But you can’t let that stop you. You refuse to let it define you. You're determined to regain some independence, to show Joel that you're not just some fragile thing that needs constant watching over.

You push yourself up, wincing as another wave of pain stabs through your ribs. The movement is slow, deliberate. Each step feels like an accomplishment, even as the pain pulses beneath the surface. You make it to the kitchen, though you're panting by the time you reach the counter. You grip it for support, feeling the cool edge beneath your fingertips. The simple act of pouring yourself a glass of water feels like a triumph.

Then you hear the creak of the front door. You don’t have to look to know it’s Joel. The sound of his boots on the floor, the low murmur of his voice as he moves about the ranch—it's all so familiar now. You hear him pause, then step into the kitchen. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, gripping the counter like it’s your lifeline.

"Well, look at you," he says, a note of surprise and admiration in his voice. "You're up and about."

You offer him a small, self-conscious smile, glad he’s not rushing to fuss over you. "I thought it was time," you say softly, setting the glass of water down with careful movements. "I can't just lie on the couch all day."

Joel chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with that same intensity that sends a warm flutter through your chest. He steps closer, cautious. "Reckon not," he agrees, voice low. His eyes linger on you, and you can't tell if it's concern or something else. "But don’t go pushin’ yourself too hard now."

"I’m fine," you insist, a little too quickly. "But you look like you’ve been at it all morning. Would you like something to drink?" You try to sound casual, but the offer feels like an excuse to keep him there, a way to ease the tension building between you.

"S’alright, I can get it," he says, but his voice is strained, tired. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a visible sign of the work he's been doing.

Before he can protest, you start toward the fridge. "Shut up," you say with a teasing smile. "I got it. Iced tea, right?"

He chuckles softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That’d be perfect, darlin’."

The fridge door opens with a soft creak, and you pour the tea, the cool liquid filling the glass with a satisfying sound. The simple act requires more focus than it should, but you take your time, savoring the moment of normalcy. You hand him the glass, your fingers brushing his ever so briefly. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends an unexpected jolt through you, a spark that neither of you can ignore. For a moment, you both stand there, neither of you speaking, as if waiting for something to break the silence. His gaze flickers to the floor, then back to you, and he clears his throat, taking a small step back.

"Thanks," he says, his voice steady but low, and his eyes meet yours briefly before he raises the glass in a small salute. He drinks deeply, closing his eyes as the cool tea washes over him.

"You're welcome," you reply, your voice quieter than usual. You busy yourself with straightening up the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly as you try to ground yourself in the mundane. But even in the simple act of tidying, you can feel his gaze on you, the weight of it making you feel exposed in a way you can't quite understand.

"You’ve found some use for the blanket and books, I see," Joel says, his voice soft, but you catch the hint of something more in it, something like pride.

"They've been a good distraction," you answer, a little more casually than you feel. "I'm curious about your daughter’s books. She’s got good taste."

At the mention of his daughter, Joel’s face softens, a wistful look crossing his features. "She always did love a good story," he says, his voice quiet, distant. "Used to read to her every night when she was little. We'd get lost in all sorts of adventures together.”

The conversation takes a quiet but significant turn, pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. You sense it the moment Joel’s expression softens at your question, his guarded demeanor cracking just enough to let a sliver of vulnerability through. It feels fragile, like holding a bird in your hands, its rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath your fingers. You tread carefully, hoping not to press too hard but unwilling to let the moment pass unacknowledged. "What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

He hesitates for just a breath before answering, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Sarah," he says, his voice tinged with warmth and something deeper—something bittersweet. "Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

The weight of that single word, was, hangs in the air between you like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of meaning outward. It cuts through the small warmth his smile brought, replacing it with a heaviness that settles deep in your chest. Your heart clenches, the realization landing like a blow. You try to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists. "Was?" you venture cautiously, the single syllable feeling heavier than it should.

Joel’s expression shifts immediately—his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if bracing for an impact. You see the pain flash through him, raw and unguarded, before he wrestles it back under control. For a moment, you think he won’t answer, that he’ll shut you out completely. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and steady, though it trembles at the edges. "Sarah passed away a few years back." The words are spoken simply, but their weight is unmistakable, each syllable heavy with grief he’s learned to carry in silence.

The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thinner. You struggle to find something to say, some way to acknowledge the enormity of what he’s shared without reducing it to a hollow platitude. "Joel, I’m so sorry," you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in your words is palpable, your own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of his loss.

Joel nods, his gaze distant, focused on something you can’t see. He doesn’t brush off your condolences or wave them away as you might have expected. Instead, he accepts them with a quiet grace that’s heartbreaking in its simplicity. "S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

His words linger in the air, stark and unvarnished, and you feel the ache in them like a bruise pressed too hard. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no anger—just a quiet resignation, a weariness that feels like it’s etched into his very being. You wonder how often he’s spoken these words, if at all, or if he’s kept them locked away until now. Your gaze drifts to his hands—strong, calloused, and steady even now, despite the weight he carries. You reach out before you can think better of it, your fingers brushing against his forearm in a gesture that feels both small and monumental. "I can’t imagine," you say softly, your words feeling inadequate but heartfelt. "I’m sorry you had to go through that."

Joel looks down at your hand, his gaze lingering there for a moment before he lifts his eyes to meet yours. There’s something in his expression that makes your breath catch—a flicker of gratitude, of recognition, and something else you can’t quite name. "Thank you," he says simply, his voice rough but sincere. He shifts slightly, covering your hand with his own. The warmth of his touch is startling, grounding, and you’re acutely aware of how solid he feels, how present. "For listening," he continues, his voice softening. "I don’t... I don’t talk about Sarah much. It’s hard, you know?" His eyes hold yours, and you see the weight of the years he’s carried this pain, the quiet strength it’s taken to keep moving forward.

You nod, unable to look away. "I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for," you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "Just... holding onto her memory like that. Letting her still be a part of you."

His brow furrows slightly, his gaze searching yours as if he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words. "Don’t feel strong most days," he admits after a pause, his voice so low you almost miss it. "Just feel tired."

The honesty in his words makes your chest tighten, and you press your hand against his arm just a little more firmly, as if to anchor him. "Maybe that’s what strength is," you offer, your voice soft but unwavering. "Getting up every day, even when it feels impossible. Carrying her with you, even when it hurts."

Joel doesn’t respond immediately, but you see something shift in his expression—something almost imperceptible but deeply significant. He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. "Maybe," he murmurs, the word more of a concession than a conviction.For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You let it linger, sensing that Joel needs this space, this moment of quiet connection. When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly,  the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

—-------

As you prepare to settle onto the couch for the night, the creak of the wooden floor under Joel’s boots pulls your attention. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s beside you, scooping you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his hands against you and the solid strength of his hold leave you momentarily breathless.

"What are you doing?" you protest weakly, though your body betrays you by instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders for balance.

He doesn’t stop moving, his tone gruff but resolute. "Takin’ you to your room. You’ll be more comfortable there, and it’s about time you used it again." You start to protest again, murmuring something about being too heavy, but he only huffs. "You think this is the first time I’ve carried someone? You’re fine. Quit fussin’."

Before you know it, he’s carrying you up the stairs, each step steady and sure despite the burden you’re sure you must be. The faint scent of leather and woodsmoke clings to him, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. When he reaches the top, the hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit and quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

Your bedroom door creaks as he nudges it open with his foot. The room feels foreign, almost untouched since your injuries—a time capsule of your life before everything fell apart. Joel sets you down on the bed with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior, his hands lingering briefly to ensure you’re steady before he pulls away.

"There," he says, adjusting the covers around you with meticulous care that makes your chest ache. "Now you get some rest. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You watch him turn, the broad slope of his shoulders framed by the faint hallway light. A sudden unease wells up in your chest, irrational and overwhelming. The thought of being alone in this room, in this moment, feels unbearable. The words leave your lips before you can stop them.

"Joel, wait."

He stops in the doorway, his silhouette pausing against the light. "What is it, darlin’?" His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

Your fingers grip the edge of the blanket as you force yourself to speak. "Could you... stay? Just for a little while. Until I fall asleep."

For a moment, he’s quiet, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the shadows. He looks at you like he’s weighing something heavy, something he’s not sure he can carry. But then he nods, his voice softer when he speaks. "Yeah. I can do that."

He grabs a chair from the corner of the room, pulling it close to the bed and settling into it with a quiet sigh. The room feels smaller now, his presence filling the space in a way that should be comforting, and yet... you feel the weight of it pressing against you.

Joel sits silently, his hands resting on his knees, the flickering light from the bedside lamp casting deep shadows across his face. His gaze flicks toward you occasionally, careful and guarded, as if afraid to linger too long. You watch him through half-closed eyes, noting the subtle lines etched into his features—lines of exhaustion, loss, and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a tension in his posture, a quiet restraint that makes your chest tighten.

"Joel," you say softly, the quiet sound of his name pulling his gaze to yours. He raises an eyebrow, waiting, but the words you wanted to say catch in your throat. What could you even say? Thank him for his kindness? For caring when you’d tried so hard to convince yourself you didn’t need it. Instead, you settle on something you instantly regret. "You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine."

His expression shifts, the corners of his mouth tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, but when he does, his voice is quieter, almost unreadable. "If that’s what you want."

You open your mouth to correct yourself, to say something that might soften the blow, but the words don’t come. Joel stands, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to change your mind. You don’t.

"Goodnight, then," he says, his tone even, though there’s a weight behind the words that you can’t ignore. Joel stands, the chair groaning slightly as he pushes it back. He doesn’t move hurriedly, but there’s a deliberateness in his movements that makes your chest tighten. The air between you feels heavier, laced with something unspoken, something you’re not ready to name. And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind.

"Stay. Please stay."

But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally. The warmth of his presence lingers faintly, like the scent of his leather and woodsmoke, but it isn’t enough to fill the void. The ache in your ribs pales in comparison to the one in your chest. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, what was this feeling that had taken root inside you? It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something else, something harder to define. You’d always prided yourself on not needing anyone, but Joel had a way of making that wall crumble, brick by brick. It was confusing. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Or maybe... maybe you were just afraid to hope again. But the way he’d left, the quiet disappointment in his eyes—it made you feel small, stupid even. What were you so afraid of? You hated yourself for pushing him away when all he’d ever done was try to be there for you. But it was too late now. The door was closed, and so, it seemed, was he.

The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the moonlight spilling in through the curtains. You hadn’t noticed Joel still standing there, silent as a shadow. He lingers by the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed, torn between staying and leaving.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” he mutters, more to himself than you.

You turn your head slightly, startled. You thought he'd left. His gaze meets yours for a moment, but the weight of it is too much to hold. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m fine,” you say, your voice tight and unconvincing.

Joel lets out a low scoff, shaking his head. “Fine,” he repeats bitterly. “That your favorite word or somethin’?” His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the room, sitting back down on the chair beside your bed. His presence is overwhelming, filling the small space like a storm cloud about to break. You feel the heat of him, as you try to keep your breathing steady. “I know what you're doin',” he says quietly, his tone softer now. “Pushin' me away. But you don’t have to.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put. His words are gentle, but they cut deep, peeling back the layers you worked so hard to hide behind. You struggle for words, your breath uneven. "I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—"  

 "You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."  

His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now, like he's fighting against his own limits, his patience fraying. You want to reach for him, to let yourself lean into him, but the weight of your own walls is too heavy. You want to let go, but something inside you holds you back, paralyzes you with fear. Fear of what letting him in might mean. Your throat tightens as you try to form the words, but nothing comes. His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t push you—he waits. The tension hangs thick in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. But the longer he waits, the more it seems like he’s losing the battle inside himself.

You finally meet his eyes again, but it’s like something’s shifted. There’s still care there, but it’s mixed with frustration, something raw and real. He stands, his movements slow but resolute. "You can’t keep doing this," he says, his voice low but intense. "I can’t keep doing this. You want me to stay, and then... then you push me away.”

His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he moves it back, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it. 

He moves toward the door, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and you want to scream—to tell him to stay, to tell him you’re not fine, but the words are lodged in your throat, like you’re choking on your own fear.

You sit up in bed, your breath shallow, but you don’t call out. You don’t stop him.

Joel pauses at the doorway, his back to you. For a long moment, it seems like he might turn around, like he might say something else, something to bridge the gap between you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his shoulders stiff, his head slightly bowed as though he’s already made his peace with walking away.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "You need anything, you holler. I’ll hear ya."

And then the door clicks softly shut behind him.

You sit there, staring at the empty space where he was, the weight of his words still pressing down on you. Your fingers curl around the blanket, but it offers no comfort. Your mind races, a mess of emotions, regret, and frustration. You want to call him back, but it feels like it’s too late.

The room is silent once more, and the emptiness is suffocating. You close your eyes, your chest aching, and for the first time in a long while, you realize how alone you truly are..

Joel

The soft glow of the kitchen light spills across the empty room as Joel leans against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee he doesn’t really want or need at this hour. He stares into the dark liquid, his thoughts elsewhere, running over the events of the evening like a song stuck on repeat.

He shouldn’t feel disappointed. You’d made it clear you didn’t want him there, and he respected that. Hell, he’d been in your shoes before—pushing people away because it felt safer. He couldn’t blame you for it. But that didn’t make the sting of it any easier to shake.

Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’d seen the hesitation in your eyes, the conflict. He’d wanted to tell you it was okay, that he’d wait as long as you needed. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how long he could wait. Every moment he spent with you, every quiet exchange and fleeting touch—it all felt like it was building toward something he wasn’t sure either of you were ready for. "Should’ve known better," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fridge. But even as he says it, he knows he’d do it all over again—because for you, he would wait.

The coffee in Joel’s mug has gone cold by the time he finally pushes himself off the counter and trudges to the living room. He sits heavily on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the darkened television screen. Sleep isn’t coming—not after the way the evening ended.

He rubs a hand down his face, trying to shake off the frustration welling in his chest. It wasn’t your fault, not really. Joel knows that better than anyone. But the way you’d looked at him, the way you’d pulled back, it felt like a door slamming shut in his face. Like he was stupid for even hoping.

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself. He knows better than to get too close, to expect anything. It’s not fair to you, not when you’ve got enough to deal with. And yet, here he is, hoping like a damn fool.

The faint creak of the floor above reminds him you’re still there, probably lying awake just like he is. Joel shakes his head, dragging a heavy quilt over himself as he stretches out on the couch. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll keep his distance. Let you come to him if you want.

But the hollow ache in his chest says that might never happen.

—

The next morning the shutting of the door pulls Joel from a restless sleep. He stretches, his back protesting the hours spent on the couch, and grumbles as he sits up. The smell of coffee drifts through the house, but it’s faint—like someone turned the pot off before it finished brewing. Joel frowns. He knows you’re still stiff from your injuries, and the thought of you moving around too much sets him on edge. He stands, rubbing a hand over his face, and heads toward the kitchen.

The sight of the empty space only deepens his unease. The coffee pot is half-full, a mug sitting beside it untouched. He glances out the window, his gut twisting when he spots you trudging toward the barn, determination in every step.

“What the hell are you doin’ now?” he mutters, already grabbing his jacket as he steps outside.

The morning air bites at his skin, but Joel barely notices as he closes the distance to the barn. By the time he reaches the open doors, you’re already climbing onto the tractor, one hand on the seat and the other gripping the wheel.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice echoes sharply in the quiet.

You freeze, your head whipping around to face him. “What?” you ask, your voice defensive, though there’s a flicker of guilt in your eyes.

Joel’s chest tightens, but he doesn’t let it show. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

Your brow furrows, and you straighten your shoulders, your stubbornness flaring to life. “I’m trying to help. You’ve been doing everything, and I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” His tone is sharper than he intends, but the sight of you on the tractor—the very image of Sarah in her last moments—sends a cold wave of fear crashing over him.

You bristle at his words, swinging your legs over the side of the tractor to face him fully. “Excuse me? I’m not a kid, Joel. I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t,” he snaps, his voice louder now. “You don’t even know how to work that damn thing, and you’re in no shape to be tryin’!”

Your eyes narrow, hurt flashing across your face before you mask it with anger. “I’m just trying to pull my weight, Joel. I’m not some burden you have to carry! And yes I can fucking drive the tractor.”

Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about you bein’ a burden? Dammit, I don’t care about that! I care about you not gettin’ yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to listen!”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. Joel’s breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep the memories at bay. Sarah’s laughter, the hum of the tractor’s engine, the sickening sound of it tipping over—it’s all there, clawing at the edges of his mind.

But he doesn’t tell you. He can’t.

Instead, he swallows hard and steps back, his jaw tightening. “Just… don’t do this,” he says, his voice quieter but no less firm.

You stare at him, confusion and hurt written all over your face. “Why are you acting like this?” you ask, your tone softer now, but Joel shakes his head.

Joel’s chest tightens, and the fight in his voice only deepens. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, but you’re not about to let him brush this off.

“Why the hell not?” You step off the tractor, your foot hitting the ground with a thud, your breath a sharp inhale from the pain and ragged in the cold air. “You’re acting like I’m a damn liability—like I can’t handle myself. You think I want to sit around doing nothing while you work yourself to the bone?”

Joel shakes his head, his eyes dark with frustration. “That ain’t it, and you know it. You think I want to be overprotective? You think I don’t see you fightin’ through every goddamn thing just to prove you’re not weak? I get it, alright? But this—this isn’t the way to do it.”

“You don’t get it,” you snap back, your voice growing more desperate. “I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need you to hold my hand or protect me like I’m some fragile thing you have to save. I’m fine. I can do this.”

“You’re not fine!” Joel’s voice cracks, his patience running thin, and the raw emotion behind it makes you pause, your anger faltering for just a second. He steps closer to you, his face inches away. “You’re not fine, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself just because you’re too damn proud to accept help.”

Your ribs ache as you take a step back, your hands trembling at your sides. His words, his proximity—they feel like they’re suffocating you, pulling you into a place you don’t want to go. But you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t need help,” you mutter, though the words come out unconvincing, jagged.

Joel’s gaze softens, and for a brief moment, it’s like you’re both standing in some kind of fragile truce. But it doesn’t last. The distance between you, emotional and physical, feels too heavy to bear, and Joel moves in again. His voice is quieter now, but there’s a deep, aching sincerity in it. “I don’t want you to need help. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening with something you don’t know how to name. It’s the space between your stubbornness and his care, the tension of wanting to push him away but knowing deep down that you can’t. You want to break, to let go, but you won’t—can’t—show him how much you’re falling apart.

You both stand there in the cold, the world around you feeling distant, like it’s no longer real. And then, before you can stop yourself, you say something that takes both of you by surprise. “Why do you care so damn much?” Your voice cracks as you finally let the wall down, the question raw and vulnerable.

Joel’s eyes darken, his breath catching at the depth of the question. He looks at you, really looks at you, and there’s a long silence that stretches between you, thick with everything unspoken. Then, his lips curl slightly, the ghost of a sad smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment, your anger falters, replaced with something deeper, something you can’t hide anymore.

Before you realize what’s happening, you’re the one reaching for him, your good hand finding his shirt, pulling him toward you. He hesitates for a second—his body tense, unsure—but then he moves, just like you knew he would. The kiss is sudden, urgent, and the world tilts with it. Your ribs protest, but you don’t care. His hands cradle your face, his lips pressing against yours, rough but soft, like he’s trying to steady himself just as much as you are.

Your heart races in your chest, the ache in your ribs fading as the heat of him seeps into your skin. For a brief, fleeting moment, everything else stops. The fight, the stubbornness, the fear—it all disappears in the space between your mouths. It’s like he’s holding you together, like you’re finally letting him do the one thing he’s been begging you for - to let him in.

When you break away, it’s slow, your breath ragged, but neither of you moves far. You’re still close—too close—and yet, somehow, it feels right. Joel’s forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your skin. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps you there, close enough to feel the weight of his every breath. Finally, he whispers, his voice hoarse. “You’re not alone, you know that?”

You nod, the words too hard to say, but the truth of them sits heavy between you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe it.

Taglist @akah565 @anoverwhelmingdin @brittmb115 @hannah9921 @maried01

@mermaidgirl30 @red-red-rogue @wintersquirrel

[werebutch]

WSBH chara q’s: (you don’t have to answer all the numbers, just whatever you want to 𖢘)

16/35/51 for Scotch

1/6/55 for Atlas

I LOVE YOU

16. What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

okay i truly think scotch argues with seraph in his head all the time. ALL the time. scotch largely ignores them, and vice versa, because he dislikes them and they know it. seraph is very conflict avoidant lol, and as long as hes not a "threat" they dont care to talk to him about their problems. he probably argues with atlas and jacob (his older brother) too, atlas about more stupid small stuff, and jacob about childhood and life stuff :p

im trying to think of more general groups he would argue with but i cant come up with anything BAHAH. hes not exactly conflict avoidant in the annoying libra way that seraph is, he more just ignores conflict for his friends’ (mostly atlas’) sake. idk if that makes sense LOL

35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

hmmm.. smallest? i mean scotch strings eloise along for most of the time pre timeskip. its not a main focus but its definitely important in order to understand scotch as a whole. she and scotch go out for a while, and mid way through that he realizes hes GAY gay. lol. and obviously lying to her about that is pretty questionable after a while. especially since he and atlas have been 👉👌 like the whole time. but she kind of knows. well

something a little bigger would be him encouraging or otherwise turning a blind eye to all the weird stuff atlas is up to. he doesn't know what it's like to be a werewolf, he can't say anything, right? lol.... murder is okay if its a talking dog doing it. scotch enabler supreme. actually when seraph is introduced, he and atlas have a 'joke' (kind of starts being real) about luring seraph somewhere to kill them. obviously doesnt happen and gets abandoned. but i think its important to know about their dynamic LOL

51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?

this guy is kind of goofy. i cant think of phrases rn but he has a specific way of speaking.. you could watch pretty much any old pop punk band interview and kind of get the idea. HAHAH

1. What’s the lie your character says most often?

atlas is a big fan of saying 'its fine' for all situations ever. family in mortal danger? its fine. completely splitting? its fine. arthritis excruciating? its fine. hes one of those people that dont like to deal with the fawning of others unless hes feeling real special. Ends up putting people in more danger a lot of the time. i think eloise is the only fan of communication in this friend group to be honest. i should have made her the main character

he tends to make promises he cant keep as well, but thats more general..

6. What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

i have NO idea. i feel like atlas would be a music snob, so maybe his favorite 'super underground' bands. otherwise he'd probably never recommend raw human meat to another human (no matter how much scotch asks -__-).. (he would chicken out anyway)

55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

um. so atlas hates working out. he especially hates running, you know, the thing that wolves are known for doing a lot of? unfortunately the lycanthropy came with a side effect of pretty bad arthritis, so that doesnt exactly encourage him. he DOES exercise, a lot since hes pretty much required for his ermm "side job", but he hates it 😸 besides the arthritis it’s mostly because I think it’s silly that he hates it. yay

[taegularities]

Rid I'm so sad that you're receiving this hate but for me you're one of the kindest people in here. I'm always rooting for you. Sending hugs. 🥰

thank you babe, i think i needed to hear this.. you're the sweetest, all the hugs back 🥺🤍

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for commissioning, means a whole lot <3 This is a part 2 of this post, and we have this other post as a continuation. This piece is a longer version of the second one with two sex-scenes. Hope y’all like it!

Request: I’d love a part two to the monster kissing booth story, upgrading to a sex booth (but like not officially if that makes sense? Like it’s still a kissing booth but in the middle of the market, fem!reader just can’t take it anymore and it becomes a sex booth) with maybe a little bit of emphasis on a tentacle monster and orc coming to the booth 👀 Just no vampires pls!

Naughty booth

Orc x fem!reader + Tentacle monster x fem!reader || tentacle sex, size difference, oral sex, cum play (lowkey), free use, double penetration, squirting

You are coming down from an orgasm when someone screams: “Dude, come on! There’s more of us waiting!” You giggle, the werewolf (who woks two booths down, at the art booth) between your legs sighs as he grabs some tissues to help clean you the best he can so the next monster can have his turn with your soft human flesh.

“Don’t be impatient, you’ll want your sweet time when you get there,” someone else retorts. The line is so long you can’t really see how many monsters are still waiting.

You are way too fucked out already. Your pussy feels stretched even though there’s only been like three monsters so far. You are in heaven, everything feels great. A succubus gave you some of her special magic, and made sure you were extra sensitive and you could fit every size of monster. You will have to find her later and thank her. Maybe even ask her on a date… But that’s something for later.

“Leave it, come on! I don’t care about your jizz, I’ll use it as lube,” a rough voice says behind you.

The werewolf leans down and pecks your lips, promising to come later with some food. You smile softly at him, and see him go as you wait on the table he set you onto. He fucked you so good you still can’t feel your legs. But the next patron doesn’t care about it.

A big orc with a grumpy face appears over you, his erection already out and making your mouth water. “Can you take an orc, little human?” He’s so big… You pray to the goddess that he’d fit inside of you, but the succubus said every size of monster would fit, and you believe her. You really should thank her later.

“Ye- yes. I can,” you tell him. You can’t move much, too tired to participate much, but eager to get fucked all over again.

You can still feel some of the werewolf cum dripping out of your pussy, but when the orc’s fingers tease your entrance, you groan all over again. He pushes some of the cum back inside, scissoring his fingers to make sure you are prepped enough for him. He sits down on a chair and grabs your body, manhandling you until you are on his lap, your body little in comparison to his big physique.

“Prove it,” he tells you holding your body with one hand and his dick with the other. You try to fit him inside, but you can’t get the correct angle. “Come here,” he says. He moves you until your pussy is right over his dick, and you start to descend. He doesn’t wait, though. He puts his big hands against your hips and lowers you completely, making you arch your back and cry out as you hear cheering behind you.

The fact that everyone is looking and enjoying themselves with the spectacle only adds a new layer of heat to your growing arousal. You can’t believe you are still horny after all the orgasms you had, but the movement of the orc inside of you is driving you to the sky once again. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving your body up and down like a toy and making you groan and moan in a symphony of depravity.

“Come on, little human, your pussy is perfection, let me feel you flutter around my big dick.” His words should be cringy, but at that moment, you can just groan as he keeps using your body and you get closer and closer to the edge. With precision that shouldn’t be legal, he moves your hips until his dick is rubbing against your perfect spot, making you come apart instantly. “That’s it, good goddess, I love your pussy.”

He keeps going, fucking you restlessly as your body gives up and your skin gets tingly. He pinches your nipple as he comes, the combination of the amount of cum he’s shooting inside of you and the pain-pleasure sending you into another orgasm that has your eyesight blacking out for a few seconds.

You come back to a tongue between your legs and your thighs pressing the sides of the orc’s head. He’s kneeling between your legs, at some point he manhandled you into a sitting position in the chair. He hums happily against your clit. You think you can’t take anymore, but the thing the succubus gave you is potent, so a new wave of heat fills your insides as you sigh happily as the orc cleans you out with his tongue. He makes you come around his fingers and tongue one more time before the next in line starts complaining.

“Dude you made her come three times already, let some other people enjoy!” You chuckle, but it’s lost in a loud groan as the orc sucks on your clit, his tusks framing your pussy in the most amazing way.

“They can’t stop complaining, little human, I guess is time for me to go. I hope this is not a one time thing… I had fun with your pretty pussy.” He kisses said pussy one more time before saluting you with his hand and walking away, fastening his pants as he goes.

Anticipation fills your insides when the next patron appears. You see his tentacles before you see him. Fuck, you never had tentacle sex.

“Look at that, the sex-princess is all fucked out…” The tentacles around him are moving like crazy and you have to hold your breath as one slowly approaches your body. The first contact is cold and a bit slimy, but in a good way. It feels like cooling-lube over your body, and it’s so good you groan. “Yes, like that… You love a good tentacle, don’t you, sex-princess?” You want to answer him, but he waits no longer to latch two suckers to your nipples, making you scream as the next in line laughs.

“Don’t tease her too much, I want her to still be there when my turn comes around,” she says. You can’t see which kind of monster she is, but you silently agree with her. There’s still a lot of monsters that want to try your soft human flesh.

“Okay… Okay.” The tentacle monster’s voice is reluctant, but he moves his tentacles around your body, positioning you spread over the table again.

You lay there, looking at the ceiling as you feel more tentacles join the fun. The two on your nipples start sucking harder, enticing more groans out of your mouth. Another tentacle finds your pussy and goes in without preamble. You cry out again and the crowd cheers. You think he’s going to fuck you like everyone else did, but instead, he latches another sucker inside of you, right over your G-spot. You scream at the feeling. Too good, too much.

You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as he adds another sucker to your clit, making you see stars. The combination of sensations is so good you feel something inside of you building. Something unknown, like you are going to break if he keeps going like that. When you think you can’t take anymore, he adds another tentacle to your pussy, stretching you impossibly wide as he starts fucking you with the second one.

The combination of suckers and fucking is too much and you feel something explode inside of you, a gush of liquid leaving your body and making him gasp in surprise.

“Did she just squirt?” Some monster asks, amazement filling their voice.

“Yes, she did.” The tentacle monster looks so smug you feel a bit embarrassed, but too fucked to complain. He keeps going, making you come two more times around his tentacles. “Good job, sex-princess, you did great.” He tells you before disappearing.

The next monster is already waiting, strap on and a big smile on her face.

It’s going to be a long day… and you are going to enjoy every single second of it.

[tender-rosiey]

“OUR LOVE SHALL LIVE, AND LATER LIFE RENEW”

— domestic family moments with gojo, geto, nanami, toji and sukuna (f!reader)

a/n: i was on vacation my babes; my apologies </3 hope you yall enjoy this

GOJO SATORU:

it is no secret that your husband thrives off physical affection, so it surprises no one when he is latched onto you like a koala to a tree, especially at home.

the past couple of days were filled with more missions than gojo would’ve preferred, so to make up for lost time, he spent the entirety of last night cuddling you.

that cuddling session continued to the morning, and satoru couldn’t have been happier.

you, fast asleep and looking oh so pretty, and him, happily burying his face in your chest: the perfect combo.

your husband, however, failed to remember that there is somebody else who would fight day and night for your affection.

that someone comes in the shape of his grumpy little son who is currently standing at the door with a stance that is supposed to be intimidating.

the little boy pouts and is about to yell when satoru—reluctantly—detaches himself from you and stares at him.

“what do you want, s/n?”

your son makes his way to the bed and climbs it up with much struggle, but it doesn’t matter to him since he is satisfied he is finally face to face with his dad.

he crosses his arms and huffs, “I want to cuddle with mom.”

satoru quirks an eyebrow, and his fingers slowly card through your hair. your husband replies with a smirk, “well, I want to cuddle with her too. I miss her!”

“dad, don’t be mean!” your son argues, “you had her yesterday!”

satoru shrugs and lies back down, and you cuddle into his side.

he can’t help himself as he presses a kiss to your head first then looks at s/n, pleadingly, “but I was working a lot this past week; can’t you let me have her just a bit more?”

your son ponders a bit, before settling on a solution that should satisfy both ends. satoru has been away for quite the while lately.

so, s/n simply throws himself on satoru’s chest, making the older man groan. the boy buries his face into his dad’s chest and guides his hand into his hair.

satoru smiles, hand immediately getting to work, patting his son’s head. he sighs blissfully, “you really are my son.”

s/n nods slowly, and he starts drifting off to sleep. satoru is thankful that he closed the curtains yesterday and that he is granted another chance to sleep in with you and his son.

s/n murmurs a soft, “love you, dada.”

it makes satoru’s heart nearly burst as he looks at his son. he immediately replies softly, “I love you too, buddy.”

s/n slowly replies, “you better,” before falling asleep. your husband gently pulls you closer and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

satoru whispers a soft, “thank you.”

he starts rubbing your shoulder comfortingly and leaning his head more towards your own. it is a few moments that pass before he asks, “also babe, are you seriously still asleep?”

“no, I am awake, you silly buffon; you two have never heard of inside voices.”

GETO SUGURU:

the slow creak of the door signals to everybody in the house the arrival of suguru, long before his voice does. little hurried steps rush down the stairs as your husband takes off his shoes.

he looks up with a smile and chirps, “I am home!”

“daddy!” your two girls squeal as they tackle their dad in a big hug. he quickly hugs them back and picks them both up.

they each press a kiss to his cheek, and he returns them tenfold causing them to squeal yet again.

he finally relents before asking them, as he gently twirls around, “how are my pretty girls doing?”

the little girls look at each other then smirk. they both yank out the papers they kept hidden in their pockets before saying simultaneously, “we made drawings!”

suguru face noticeably lights up, and he coos, “these are so pretty! are those supposed to be us?”

the girls nod excitedly, and they each start explaining the details of their own respective drawings.

he listens to both of them intently then asks, “you made sure to make mommy extra pretty, so it can actually look like her, right?”

“yes yes!”

“mommy is the prettiest!”

“I gave her flowers!”

“daddy, daddy, I gave her flowers and a dress!”

your husband laughs lightly, “well, that’s good; both of your drawings are amazing,” he looks around.

with a confused tilt of his head, he looks down at his girls, “speaking of which, where is your mama?”

the girls yell out, “follow us!” then sprint towards where they last saw you, the living room. he quickly makes his way towards you, and he feels his heart soar when he finally sees you.

you see him in the corner of your eye, and as you turn to greet him, your girls throw themselves at you and squeal, “we missed you!”

“you girls just saw me 5 minutes ago!” you chuckle but, nonetheless, hug them back and pepper their faces with kisses.

you hear your husband huff before he picks up the girls by their shirts making them scream and thrash about.

“daddy, put us down!”

“mama, help!”

he throws them both on the fluffy beanbag and pulls you into a hug, “how’s my favorite girl?”

you giggle as he presses soft kisses across your face. his arms wrap around your waist and he squeezes you a little.

you hug him back and gently pat his back, “are you playing favorites, suguru?”

“very much so.”

you hear gasps from your dramatic girls, and you see each one of them arming herself.

your husband purposely ignores them and buries his face into the crook of your neck. you mumble to him, “you are going to get jumped.”

“I know.”

your eyes flit to the girls then to your husband again, “they seem really angry.”

“I know, but at least I am hugging you.”

you quirk an eyebrow, “you okay dying as long as I am hugging you?”

“that’s like the best way to die, love.”

your girls let out a battle cry.

“daddy, you meanie!”

“suffer!”

NANAMI KENTO:

your husband groans, and his hand rises to see what the weight on his chest is. his hand finds a head and a bed of hair that he is all too familiar with.

he slowly opens his eyes and sees your dear daughter laying soundly asleep on him.

a small smile appears on his face, and he lets out a small sigh of both content and relief. he turns his head slightly towards the nightstand and reaches for the alarm.

it reads eleven in the morning, which kento deems the proper time to finally wake up.

so, he looks back at d/n then at you. he remembers how hard you’ve been working the past few days and decides that leaving you to rest a bit more today.

he also decides to prepare breakfast for you but not without his little helper. he pats her head gently and tries to wake her up, “d/n.”

she doesn’t respond, so he calls out again, “d/n.”

she groans and buries her face deeper into his chest. he lets out a small chuckle then rubs her back and says, “come on; we have to make breakfast for mom.”

“but I am tired,” she argues, voice muffled.

“well, mama is tired too, so we need to be nice and make her breakfast. don’t you think so?”

she groans, “yes, but…”

“d/n?” he urges.

the little girl huffs and pushes herself up and looks her dad directly in the eyes—albeit her eyes are squinty and barely open.

it makes him think that she is going to huff then get up to wash her face, but she simply pushes herself off him so she can land in your embrace.

your arms wrap instinctively around her, and she immediately nuzzles into your chest. he stares at the two of you for a bit, rather dumb-founded. then his expression turns into one of fondness.

he turns his entire body towards you.

he is finally face to face with you, and he puts his arm around you to pull you closer. he hears his daughter’s whines and complains about how he is crushing her, but he only smiles.

he looks down at her and hums, “there is plenty of space on the other side of the bed, if you don’t like laying between us.”

she quickly backtracks, “no, no, no; I will stay.”

he nods before looking at you again. he presses a kiss to your forehead and feels his body relax. he murmurs, “just five more minutes, and nothing more.”

your daughter pouts, “not even ten?”

“not even ten,” he says, kissing her cheek, “but I will make it up to you by making pancakes; what do you think?”

she nods happily and mumbles, “we will make the best breakfast.”

“yeah,” he murmurs, joining you in your slumber.

you end up waking up before him but can’t escape your husband’s solid grip. you even look down to see your little angel—maybe—giggling and squealing, happy that you’re finally awake.

of course, it wakes up your husband. but oh well.

TOJI FUSHIGURO:

“stop being a brat and get me the flour.”

“stop being rude first then I will get it for you.”

“what part of what I said was rude, you—”

that’s how it has been for the past hour. toji and megumi had decided to put their differences aside to surprise you with something: breakfast in bed.

it’s quite simple.

they were supposed to make some sausages, eggs, pancakes, and everything they could find really. they wanted to make it a five-star breakfast.

despite their constant bickering, they managed to finish everything, save for the pancakes. it was finally getting closer to the—usual—time of you waking up, so toji was on edge.

he wanted to at least do this correctly.

he thinks of it as a little something to start repaying you for everything you gave him—which he thinks is impossible to actually repay but oh well.

he moves around the kitchen rather clumsily, partially because of his size and partially because of his absence in the kitchen, for good reason, though, megumi would argue.

“dad, the sausages are burnt.”

“shut up.”

“mom likes her eggs a little bit runny.”

“I know.”

with furrowed eyebrows, toji finally gets to mixing the batter. he hears megumi call out, “dad.”

he is a little irked, to be honest, but he responds anyway, “what do you want now?”

“is…”

toji immediately notes the shift in his son’s tone, causing him to give megumi his full attention.

the little boy fidgets with his shirt a little before speaking up, “is there a chance that mom would disappear?”

your husband looks down at the still batter in the bowl. he sighs. it’s a question that he thinks about, at least every week. this haven that he managed to be a part of, is it really permanent?

he has been unlucky all his life, and things are going way too well nowadays. is that the universe’s way of preparing him for the biggest scar of his life?

taking you away?

he closes his eyes for a brief moment, and he finds his hand resting on the top of his son’s head. the little boy’s eyes widen, and he looks up at his dad.

toji frowns slightly and looks away, gently ruffling megumi’s hair and finally saying, “no…I will make sure of that.”

toji locks eyes with megumi, and the two can tell that it’s a silent promise. the boy blushes a little red, embarrassed at the unusual display of affection by his father.

his father grumbles and goes back to making the pancakes.

“my oh my, never thought I would be lucky enough to see you in a kitchen apron,” you tease from the doorway.

megumi instantly runs to the door at the sound of your voice. your son hugs you tightly, mumbling a small, “good morning.”

“you ruined the surprise,” your husband complains as you walk towards him.

you press a kiss to his cheek, which he immediately reciprocates, “I am already plenty surprised.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

a giggle leaves your lips as your daughter carefully climbs her father and perches herself on his shoulders. it is amazing how much sukuna lets you and your daughter get away with.

some would argue that your husband has, overall, mellowed down, but then they would get sliced down instantly.

he is still the big, feared king of curses, and people cower in his presence now more than ever, but those—uraume and the servants—who see him with you two can see the difference, even if it is slight.

that can be evident right now considering your husband who is deliberately ignoring your little girl’s antics.

your girl takes it as the okay to what she is doing, so she continues her quiet laughter as she gently starts placing flowers from the basket on his hair.

feeling the movement, your husband groans then looks at you, “what is that brat doing?”

she spreads the flowers out a bit, so they can fill his hair, meanwhile your husband’s annoyance rises.

the assortment of flowers that she placed actually matches well with his hair, and you feel the need to commend her, “you’re doing amazing, d/n!”

she grins as you sit in front of your husband. you look at your little artist doing her thing then smile, “she is making you pretty.”

he scrunches his nose, “by putting flowers on me? I ought to teach her a lesson.”

one of his hands reach for her, and he grabs her by the back of her shirt. she starts squealing and kicking, “daddy, I was almost done!”

he dangles her in front of his face and frowns, “who gave you permission to put that stuff on my hair? who do you think you’re dealing with?”

her face softens, and she mumbles softly, “you’re my dad…”

you coo at her but are quickly silenced when sukuna pulls you to him and nestles you in his lap. he keeps glaring at your daughter—who is trying her best not to cry because he said that it’s for the weak—then he sighs.

he lets go of her, and she screams, flailing her arms around. however, she safely falls in your arms. she whimpers slightly and buries her face in your shoulder.

your husband looks down at her small form in your arms and slowly raises his hand and puts it on her head.

“good on you for not crying,” he lightly ruffles her hair, and your daughter slowly looks up at him, wide-eyed.

he grumbles and looks away, “don’t look at me like that.”

“you love me!” she squeals, and he simply grunts in return.

she quickly gets off your lap and goes to run around the garden. your little girl starts screaming about how her dad praised her, and you feel a grin slowly rise on your face.

but, you suddenly feel your husband’s head lower down and his lips brush against your ears slightly.

you can even hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “looks like you want another one.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will make my cousins jump you

[sushiyuzu]

cute yapper

warning: fluff + comfort — soft!sylus admiring you while you yap. like, a lot 🗣🤍

a/n: tysm for the cute request, dear anon! i apologize if it’s short for you but i hope you like it as much as i do <3

anon’s request / link: click here

you’re talking, and, well, it’s a lot.

words just keep coming out, one after another, and you can’t help it. you’re talking about everything—how your day went, a cute cat you saw on the way here, some new recipe you want to try, or that funny story from when you were little. it all feels so exciting to you, like you just have to tell someone.

and, of course, that someone is sylus.

he’s sitting there with his usual calm, cool look, his red eyes watching you. he doesn’t say much, just a soft nod here and there, maybe a small smile if you’re lucky.

it’s hard to tell sometimes if he’s really listening or if he’s just being polite. he’s so quiet, and it makes you wonder if you’re being too much, if he’s just letting you talk because he doesn’t want to be rude.

you pause for a moment, glancing at him. he’s looking at you, but his face doesn’t give much away. that only makes you more nervous. “...and, well, maybe i’m just boring you,” you mumble, voice getting softer as you look down at your hands. “sorry, i guess i’ve just been talking too much...”

you stop talking completely, a little embarrassed now. your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, and the silence between you feels heavy, like maybe he’s relieved you finally stopped.

then, after a moment, he moves closer, and you can feel his warmth next to you. his voice is low, soft, and it catches you off guard. “why did you stop?”

you look up, eyes wide, surprised by the question. “oh... um, i just thought maybe you weren’t really listening. i didn’t want to bother you.”

he lets out a small chuckle, like he finds something you said a little funny but in a nice way. “i was listening,” he says, his tone serious but also gentle. “i was listening to every word.”

you can’t help but blink in surprise. “really? but... i thought...”

he reaches over, his fingers brushing a strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. his touch is soft, and you can feel a warmth spreading across your cheeks. “yes, really,” he murmurs. “i think it’s cute. you’re just so... so pretty when you talk. your face lights up, and your eyes sparkle. i could listen to you talk all day.”

he says it so calmly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but his gaze is warm and deep, like he means every word. you feel your heart start to race, a mix of joy and shyness making you fidget in your seat.

“so... you really don’t mind? you actually like it?” you ask, just to be sure, your voice coming out a little softer than before.

he nods, and his hand moves to rest on yours, his thumb gently tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “of course i like it. i love it, actually. you’re so full of life when you talk about the things you care about. it’s... beautiful.”

oh, the man that you are.

his words make your cheeks feel even warmer, and you feel a shy smile tugging at your lips. you take a deep breath, feeling a rush of happiness that’s hard to put into words. “thank you, sylus,” you whisper, your heart feeling full.

and then, before you know it, you’re talking again. your words are coming out even faster, even happier than before. you tell him all the little details, even the silliest ones that you used to hold back. it’s like a flood of everything you’ve wanted to share, and for the first time, you don’t worry about holding back.

sylus just watches you, his eyes soft and his expression calm, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips, and he’s nodding along, letting you know he’s right there with you. every now and then, he’ll lean closer, his hand still warm on yours, or he’ll give a soft chuckle when you say something funny. it’s like he’s completely focused on you, and only you.

then, as you keep talking, he leans forward even more, so close that you can feel his breath on your shoulder. before you can even process it, he presses a gentle peck there, playful but soft, then followed by a slow, open-mouth warm kiss. the sensation sends a small shiver through you, and you pause, surprised.

you feel his arms slide around you, holding you close as he murmurs, “don’t stop, okay? keep talking. i love hearing your voice.”

you nod, feeling a mix of excitement and comfort as you settle into his hold. you keep talking, feeling safe, warm, and wanted. for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re too much, or that your words are a burden. instead, you feel like every word matters, like every story you share with him is special, and he’s there to hear it all.

and you absolutely love him for that.

always.

[mandarinmoons]

hi! i have an idea ive been thinking about for a while. spencer and the team (plus reader) are at a bar and reader goes off to get a drink/dance/talk to someone and either a girl or a group of girls come up to spencer and start flirting with him. the first thing she/they ask ofc is "do you have a girlfriend?" and spencer (not realizing they are flirting) is like yes!!! her name is _____ and she is amazing and i love her so much.... and he goes on like a 20 minute rant about reader. reader finally finds him talking to these girls/girl and has to recuse them/her from his ranting about herself and explain what they actually meant.

sorry that was a lot but i wanted to make sure understood what i was envisioning. thank you so much!!!

“Spence, please!”

Spencer kept pulling you closer as he tried to nuzzle his way into your neck and leave a few kisses behind your ear. He wasn’t one for PDA, but after a few shots he was puddy in your hands and everyone had to witness what a mess you made of him in this state.

“I just wanna be close to you,” you could feel him pout as his lips were pressed against your neck, his thumbs rubbing over your waist.

“Looks like you’re not getting out of here anytime soon, huh pretty girl?”

Derek chuckled as he took pleasure seeing his younger brother of a coworker finally have a girlfriend, especially with how clingy he was being at the moment. It was as if Spencer would follow you if you were to leave for only a minute, which he had done approximately half an hour ago when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and somehow he still had enough brainpower to talk about how hand-dryers could actually spread more germs and not remove them. He’d even taken it upon himself to take some paper towels and dry your hands for you, making sure to even dry the spaces between your fingers.

You had had only one drink and you were not going home unless you had a second one. Spencer had already downed three in that time, and looking at the state that he was in, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to get served any more tonight.

“Spence, I'm going to get a quick drink, okay? Stay here.”

Prying his hands off of you, you quickly slipped out of Spencer’s grasp before he managed to put his hands on your waist again.

A few minutes later, Penelope pulls Derek to the dance floor while Emily comes across an old friend and excuses herself to have a word with her, leaving Spencer all by himself at the booth, his tongue sticking out from the side of his mouth while fidgeting with his fingers. He was too deep in thought that he didn’t notice a group of girls come over and sit next to him, their intentions clearly not innocent.

“Hi! You’re here all alone?”

“Oh, I’m not! I’m here with my girlfriend and team mates!”

“I don’t see any girlfriend around.”

“She went to get a drink. Oh, she loves an aperol spritz, she’s got great taste, in general not just in drinks.”

The girls watched in amazement as Spencer kept talking about every small thing he could come up with about you, from your favorite color and the psychological meaning behind it to your Myers Briggs personality type and how you’re both compatible.

As the endless line at the bar finally came to an end and you managed to get your drink, walking back to the team’s spot you noticed the unfamiliar girls surrounding Spencer and your stomach churned in nerves. The closer you got however you noticed their bored and confused faces and that’s all you needed to know that Spencer had most probably pulled his book smarts out on them and left them speechless.

“Oh and this one time- Y/N, you’re back!”

Spencer pulled you in for a hug, nearly knocking the drink out of your hands. Managing to put it down on the table, you rested your hand on his back as you turned your attention to the strangers, them clearly on the edges of their seats and ready to bolt at any moment.

“We’re gonna go, nice to meet you both.”

Your eyes followed them as they quickly got up and made their way to the other side of the bar, even from a distance you could see the red hue on their cheeks, embarrassment written all over their faces.

“Spence, what did they want?”

“They came over and asked if I had a girlfriend.”

“That’s it?”

Spencer nodded as he nuzzled into your stomach, “And I talked about how great you are and how I’m going to marry you one day.”

Laughter erupted from your mouth as you heard the answer, also because of Spencer’s fingers practically digging into your sides that it was tickling you.

“Sweetie, I don’t think that’s what they meant by that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually when someone asks “Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend?”, it’s their way of asking “Are you single?”

Spencer blinked his eyes, your words not yet registering in his head.

“They were flirting with you.”

“Oh… really?”

Nodding along, the conversation was put on halt as everyone made their way back to the table.

“You guys had to leave him alone, huh?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Some girls came up to Spencer and tried to hit on him.”

“Oh, pretty boy’s got game now, huh?”

The team chuckled, but Spencer kept burrowing his head more into your embrace. It was clear that no matter how many girls tried their luck with him it would inevitably fail, as you were his home that he would come back to every time.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[inkskinned]

it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

[flwrstqr]

★ 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — NRK

preview. there are two sisters: yu karina, a popular girl who's eager to date, and yu y/n, an antisocial girl who is totally uninterested in dating. their overprotective father finally agrees to let karina date, but only if y/n does too. to solve this problem, new student eunwoo, who has a crush on karina, teams up with daeho, a wealthy but narcissistic student. daeho pays the school's bad boy, nishimura riki, to take you out on a date. at first, you are a bit resistant, but soon you find yourself gradually falling in love with riki, who starts to genuinely care for you.

meet the cast. bad boy!riki x antisocial!fem reader (feat yeh shuhua from gidle, yu karina from aespa, choi soobin from txt, new ocs)

genre. high school au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, crack, ten things i hate about you based, one sided enemies, medium fic

word count. 7k+

warnings. cursing, kissing, profanity (no nsfw or smut), riki just dating yn just for money at first, smoking, parties, drinking, yn being drunk, yn just being very very independent and stubborn, fighting, punching

danielle's note 𖥔 yes i'm cooking something good again... sorry for writing long/medium fics recently ... i've been obsessing over rom coms again and it gives me a new idea each time. LIKE i dont mean to but it just happens ☹️ but anyways this is for my no.1 fav riki stan (LOVE U)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀all-american bitch by olivia rodrigo, boyfriend by ariana grande, kill bill by sza, the perfect pair by beabadoobee, sunny day by beabadoobee, hot to go by chappell roan

YOU'RE WALKING THROUGH THE BUSTLING HALLS OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL, the familiar scent of old textbooks and cleaning supplies filling your senses. Your best friend Shuhua is by your side, chatting away about the latest gossip.

Shuhua glances at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re on a mission again, aren’t you?”

You rip a particularly flyer advertising the upcoming dance off the wall. “Someone has to clean up this mess,” you reply, crumpling it in your hand.

Shuhua laughs. “You’re such a rebel. Why do you hate these so much anyway?”

You shrug, “They’re just clutter. Besides, half of these events are pointless.”

Shuhua sighs dramatically. “You’re impossible. What about the spring festival? It might be fun.”

You give her a sideways glance. “You know I’m not into those kinds of things.”

She grins, linking her arm with yours. “That’s why I’m here, to drag you out of your comfort zone.”

You can’t help but smile at her persistence. “Good luck with that.”

EUNWOO WALKED THROUGH THE BUSTLING SCHOOL HALLWAYS, his eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. His guide, Soobin, pointed out different rooms and introduced him to a few students along the way.

“Over there is the science lab,” Soobin said, gesturing to a door on their left. “And that’s the library. You’ll probably spend a lot of time there; it’s pretty nice.”

As they continued down the corridor, Eunwoo’s gaze wandered until it landed on a girl standing by her locker, surrounded by a group of friends. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down her back and a smile that seemed to light up the whole hallway.

Eunwoo nudged Soobin and nodded toward the girl. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

Soobin followed Eunwoo’s gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Yu Karina,” he explained. “She’s pretty popular around here. Smart, talented, and everyone wants to be her friend.”

“She’s… wow,” Eunwoo said, unable to take his eyes off her. “She’s really something.”

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Soobin agreed. “But there’s one thing you should know. Her dad is super strict. He doesn’t let her date anyone. So, if you’re thinking of asking her out, you might want to reconsider.”

Eunwoo’s heart sank a little, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to Karina’s presence. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said, tearing his eyes away from her and back to Soobin.

“No problem,” Soobin replied with a reassuring smile. “Oh, and by the way, I heard she’s looking for a French tutor. She mentioned it to a friend earlier.”

Eunwoo’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” he exclaimed.

Soobin looked at him, puzzled. “You know how to speak French?”

“No,” Eunwoo admitted with a grin. “But I’m gonna after this.”

YOU'RE CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, ENGROSSED IN YOUR BOOK. Upstairs, you hear your sister, Karina, moving around. The front door opens, and your dad walks in.

Karina descends the stairs with a hopeful look on her face. "Dad, can I go out tonight with Daeho?" she asks, her tone carefully respectful.

Your dad doesn't miss a beat. "No, you can't go. There are two rules in this house. One, you can't date until you graduate. Two, you can't date until you graduate."

Karina groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Come on, Dad, that's not fair!"

He folds his arms and gives her a stern look. "Rules are rules, Karina. And you know why we have them."

Karina sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. "This is so unfair," she mutters.

Your dad pauses, considering something. Then, unexpectedly, he says, "Fine, Karina. You can date... but only if your sister finds a date."

Karina's jaw drops. "What? That stupid girl? She can never find one! She's always in her little corner reading books and obsessing over her little bands!"

You roll your eyes, barely glancing up from your book.Without a word, you close your book and stand, walking out of the room, leaving Karina to her whining and your dad to his lecturing.

As you start climbing the stairs, you hear Karina shout in frustration, "Can you just find a stupid retard who can take you on a date so I can date?"

KARINA AND EUWNOO SAT AT A TABLE IN THE QUIET CORNER OF THE LIBRARY, French textbooks and notes spread out before them. Eunwoo was doing his best to tutor Karina, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. She tapped her pen against the table, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window.

“So, uh, for our next class,” Eunwoo began hesitantly, trying to regain her focus, “how about we get some, uh, French food? On Saturday, at 6 pm?”

Karina snapped back to attention, with a huge grin her face. “Are you asking me out?”

Eunwoo scratched the nape of his neck, clearly flustered. “Listen, I know your dad doesn't let you date, but if it’s for French class…”

Karina cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute, my dad just came up with a rule that I can date if my sister does.”

Eunwoo's face lit up with a hopeful smile. “Oh, then that’s great—”

“No, it’s not great,” Karina interrupted again, exasperation in her voice. “She’s a total loser. Well, she used to be popular, but things changed.” She shrugged dismissively.

Eunwoo frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, uh, I can go find someone that would be willing to date her—”

Karina's eyes widened, and she leaned forward excitedly. “Wait, really? That would be great!”

“Yeah—” Eunwoo started to reply, but Karina was already on her feet.

“Oh my god, thank you! Gotta go, bye!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the library, leaving Eunwoo sitting there.

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN WANDERED AROUND THE CAMPUS, their mission clear but their progress slow. Finding the perfect guy to date you was proving to be more challenging than Eunwoo had anticipated. He approached student after student, but each one turned him down, unwilling to go out with someone they considered too independent or too stubborn.

Finally, they found themselves in the science lab, Eunwoo ready to give up. His shoulders slumped as he glanced around the nearly empty hallways.

Then, Eunwoo's eyes landed on someone unexpected. Nishimura Riki, the school's notorious bad boy, was leaning against a lab table, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

Soobin noticed Eunwoo's gaze and quickly shook his head. "The thing is, he's the bad boy of the school," Soobin explained, lowering his voice. "He smokes, he commits crimes, and someone even told me he sold his own liver for a speaker in the dark markets."

Eunwoo stared at Riki,"That's our guy," he declared with a determined nod.

Soobin looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious? He’s the worst possible choice!"

Eunwoo set his jaw. "Sometimes, the worst choice is the only choice we have. Besides, we don’t have any other options left."

AS THEY WALKED AWAY FROM RIKI, Eunwoo turned to Soobin, a worried expression on his face. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Soobin shrugged. “Honestly? Probably not. But I’ve got another idea.” A smirk spread across his face. “I have someone in mind who might be willing to ask Riki.”

During lunch, Soobin led Eunwoo over to a table where Daeho, the narcissistic, rich, and popular boy, was holding court with his friends. Daeho looked up as they approached, his expression a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance.

“Hey, Daeho,” Soobin began smoothly, “you like Karina, right?”

Daeho raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, I’ve got a plan,” Soobin continued. “Karina can’t date until her sister dates. So, you need to hire a guy who’ll go out with her.”

Daeho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And who would that be?”

Soobin pointed across the cafeteria to where Riki was sitting, eating with his friend. “That guy.”

Daeho followed Soobin’s gaze and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Him? I heard he ate a whole live duck.”

Soobin nodded, unfazed. “Except for the feet and beak. Look, he’s a full investment.”

Daeho glanced at Riki again, skepticism written all over his face. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Soobin clapped Daeho on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

As they walked away, Eunwoo whispered to Soobin, “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Soobin grinned. “We’ve got the rich guy on board now. What could go wrong?”

Eunwoo sighed, still feeling uneasy about the plan but hopeful that somehow, it would all work out.

RIKI WAS OUT ON THE FIELD, smoking and lazily watching the soccer game. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass. As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed Daeho approaching him, looking uncharacteristically determined.

Riki raised an eyebrow as Daeho stood before him. "Do I know you?" he asked, clearly unimpressed.

Daeho sighed, trying to remain patient. "Listen, you see that girl?" He pointed across the field to you, where you were playing soccer with an intense focus, your hair tied up in a ponytail as you skillfully kicked the ball across the whole field.

"That's Yu Y/N," Daeho continued. "I want you to go out with her."

Riki let out a laugh, the idea seeming ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

Daeho clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Look, I can't take out her sister until Y/N starts dating."

Riki smirked, shaking his head. "That's a really good story," he said sarcastically. "But not my problem." He stood up, ready to walk away.

"What if I add some money to this?" Daeho offered, desperation creeping into his voice.

Riki paused, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. "How much?"

"$30?"

Riki scoffed. "Movies, that's like $15. Popcorn, that's $45, and then the ride back home, that's like $25. So we're looking at about $75."

Daeho frowned, realizing he was being haggled. "Take it or leave it."

Riki gave him a challenging look. "Fine, $50?"

Daeho hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Deal."

Riki smirked, pocketing the money. "Alright then, you've got yourself a deal." He turned his gaze back to the field, watching you for a moment. "This should be interesting." As Riki walked away, Daeho couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief.

AS THE FINAL WHISTLE BLEW, signaling the end of the game, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and grabbed your water bottle. Just as you were about to head off the field, Riki approached with a confident stride.

"Hey, princess," he greeted with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes, pausing just long enough to respond. "Need anything?"

Riki didn't miss a beat. "I'll pick you up on Friday."

"Oh right, Friday," you replied sarcastically, the skepticism clear in your tone.

"Well, I'll take you anywhere you like," he offered, trying to sound accommodating.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again. "Yeah, super fun. Listen, you probably don't even know my name."

Riki's smirk didn't falter. "I know a lot more than you think."

"Oh, very doubtful," you retorted, walking away with a wave of your hand.

Riki stood there, scoffing in shock, watching you go. For the first time, he realized this might be more challenging than he imagined it to be.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you found yourself at a local record store, browsing through the vinyls and picking out your favorite albums. After paying, you stepped outside with a bag full of records, only to see Riki leaning casually against your car.

"Not a bad car," he remarked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so now you're following me?"

He shook his head, pointing towards the nearby mart. "I was over there and saw your car, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi."

"Oh, well then, hi," you retorted, making your way to the driver's seat.

"Not a talker?" he asked, watching you with amusement.

You shrugged, your patience wearing thin. "Listen, I'm not interested."

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Riki teased, trying to gauge your reaction.

"Why would I be?" you shot back, giving him a challenging look.

"Because you want me," he replied, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin.

You laughed, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "Haha, I want you so bad, baby."

With that, you motioned for him to move. "Now, won't you move?"

Riki stepped aside, still taken aback by your bluntness. You got into the driver's seat and started the engine, leaving him standing there in stunned as you drove away. As he watched your car disappear down the road, he couldn't help but feel that it might a bit tough to get you.

THE NEXT DAY, Riki was leaning against a locker, a casual look on his face. Daeho approached him, glancing around to ensure they weren't being overheard.

"How's the plan?" Daeho asked, his voice low.

Riki smirked. "I just upped my price."

Daeho raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "By how much?"

"$100," Riki replied confidently.

Daeho hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another $25, placing it into Riki's hand. "I expect some results."

Riki pocketed the money, "You'll get them."

With that, Daeho turned around and walked away, leaving Riki standing there, thinking of what to do next.

LATER THAT DAY, Riki was hanging out near the bleachers when Eunwoo and Soobin approached him. Riki glanced up, noting their determined expressions.

"Hey, Riki," Eunwoo started, "we heard about your little arrangement with Daeho."

Riki raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Soobin and I want to help," Eunwoo continued. "I like Karina and you know her sister, yn, needs to get a date first."

Riki leaned back, "What's in it for me?"

Soobin stepped forward. "Well you know, we can do some research about her. No money involved, just a mutual benefit."

Riki smirked, nodding. "Alright, deal."

Eunwoo grinned, sharing a knowing look with Soobin, "and we have a perfect opportunity for you to ask her out."

"What would that be?" Riki raises his eyebrow.

"The upcoming party hosted by Bogey Lowenstein."

"i'll think about." Riki smirked as he walked off

LATER THAT WEEK, Daeho spotted Karina by her locker. With a confident look, he approached her, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey, Karina," Daeho called out, leaning casually against the lockers.

Karina looked up, slightly taken aback by his presence. "Oh, hey, Daeho. What's up?"

"I was thinking," Daeho began, "you should come with me to Bogey Lowenstein's party this weekend."

Karina raised an eyebrow, "Really? And why's that?"

Daeho shrugged, flashing a cocky grin. "Well, it’s the biggest party of the year. Wouldn't you want to go with the guy everyone’s talking about?"

Karina closed her locker, "A party?"

Daeho chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, Karina. It'll be fun. Besides, you deserve to be seen with someone who can actually keep up with you."

Karina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, Daeho. I'll go with you,"

KARINA WALKED ALONGSIDE EUNWOO VENTING HER FRUSTRATION. "Ugh, I can never go to that party... My dad is gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Eunwoo thought for a moment. "Okay, well, I got a plan. I set your sister up with a boy, but things aren't going that great."

Karina sighed deeply, feeling defeated. "I'm never gonna get to go..."

Eunwoo glanced at her, determination shining in his eyes. "Okay then, tell me what your sister likes."

Karina rolled her eyes. "She said before she would die before dating someone who smokes. And her types are 'pretty boys,' which I don't even know what that means."

Eunwoo nodded, taking mental notes. "Anything else?"

"How am I supposed to know my crazy sister's little mind?" Karina replied, exasperated.

Eunwoo sighed, realizing the complexity of the situation. "Well, nothing has worked so far. We have to go behind enemy lines here."

LATER THAT DAY, Karina and Eunwoo found themselves sneaking into your room, carefully rummaging through your drawer.

"Aha! A date book, concert tickets, and a reading list," Karina exclaimed, shoving the items into Eunwoo's hands. "That should give you enough information, right?"

Eunwoo looked at the pile, nodding slowly. "Uh, right. This should help. Um, how about your room?"

Karina quickly shook her head. "Oh uhm I think we've got what we need! Let's get out of here,"

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN approached Riki at school, determination in their eyes.

"Okay, so we figured out some information about her," Eunwoo began. "She hates smokers, so you might have to drop that cigarette."

Riki raised an eyebrow but complied, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it. "Okay, so I have to say I'm a non-smoker?"

Soobin nodded. "Exactly. And she likes feminist prose and angry girl music."

Eunwoo handed Riki a list. "Here's a list of the CDs she had in her room."

Riki scanned the list, his expression skeptical. "So you're saying all I need to do is go to some stupid concert with her?"

Eunwoo nodded. "Well, her favorite band is playing tomorrow, and she'll be there since she got the tickets."

Riki groaned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. "No way I'm going there."

"It's fine," Soobin reassured him. "It's just for one night."

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you owe me for this."

Eunwoo and Soobin exchanged relieved glances, knowing they were one step closer to their goal.

RIKI TRUDGED TOWARDS THE CONCERT VENUE, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, as he approached the main area where a sea of girls buzzed with excitement. From a distance, he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you and your best friend, Shuhua, dancing with abandon. A feeling churned in his stomach as he watched you, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. Sighing, he made his way to the bar.

As Riki sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the evening, you approached the bar for some water. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed him standing there.

"If you plan on asking me out again, you might as well just get it over with," you said, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

"Do you mind? You're kind of ruining the mood here," Riki retorted, his tone defensive.

"You're not with your usual smoke," you observed, glancing around.

"I know, I quit. Apparently, they're bad for you," he replied with a shrug.

"You think?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you know, the Raincoats aren't that bad," he said, changing the subject.

You looked at him, a bit surprised. "You know the Raincoats?"

"Why don't you?" he countered, standing up as if to leave. You followed him, curious.

"I've just never seen you so pretty under this light," he said loudly, just as the room suddenly fell quiet. Laughter erupted from those around you, and you glanced at him, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time that evening. He smiled back.

"Come to Bogey's party with me?" he asked.

You laughed, shaking your head. "You really aren't giving up, are you?"

"Is that a yes?" he pressed.

"No," you said firmly, still smiling.

"Well, was that a no?" he called after you as you walked away, laughter in your wake.

"No!" you shouted back over your shoulder.

"I'll come at 9:30 then!" he declared, grinning as he watched you disappear into the crowd.

IT'S THE DAY OF THE PARTY, and Karina walks down the stairs, dressed and ready to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" your dad asks, his voice firm.

"To a party," Karina replies nonchalantly.

He sighs deeply, a hint of frustration in his tone. "We talked about this, Karina."

"Well, it's a small party! Everyone in the school is going," she insists.

"YN is not going, then you're not going," your dad states firmly.

Karina's eyes widen in disbelief before she turns to glare at you. "God, why can't you be normal for once, YN?"

You roll your eyes, unfazed by her outburst. Karina then softens, her desperation clear. "Please, YN, go to the dance. Please, please," she begs.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Finally, you relent. "Fine, I'll make an appearance," you agree with a sigh before you change into a more formal outfit.

As you open the front door, you see Riki standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"9:30, right?" he replies with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm driving," you mutter, brushing past him as you head to the car. Riki follows you, a satisfied grin on his face as he trails behind.

AT THE PARTY, you stand off to the side, observing the chaotic scene unfold around you. People are kissing, drinking, and dancing. Your eyes narrow as you spot Daeho smirking and making his way toward Karina, who lights up as he approaches.

Daeho and Karina begin flirting openly, their conversation punctuated by giggles and playful touches. You feel a pang of annoyance as Karina eagerly pushes you aside to make room for Daeho. You roll your eyes in frustration and grab a random drink from the counter, chugging it down in one go, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

Riki approaches you, concern evident on his face. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

"I'm getting trashed at a party. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" you snap, rolling your eyes again as you take another swig from your drink.

Meanwhile, across the room, Eunwoo walks over to Karina, who is still engrossed in her conversation with Daeho. "Oh, Eunwoo," she says, sounding surprised. Eunwoo glances at Daeho with a confused look and then back at Karina, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Come on, let's go," Daeho says, dragging Karina away. She gives Eunwoo a helpless little wave before turning her attention back to Daeho. Eunwoo pauses, watching her disappear into the crowd, a look of disappointment flashing across his face.

As Daeho and Karina walk around, he talks nonstop about himself, barely giving Karina a chance to speakFeeling annoyed, she turns around and leaves him, while Daeho quickly shifts his attention to flirting with other girls.

Later, Riki is still looking for you. When he finally finds you, you’re fully drunk, dancing on top of a table with the music blaring. Your movements are unsteady, and you accidentally hit your head on a light, nearly falling off the table. Riki catches you just in time, his grip firm yet gentle.

"Come on, you're gonna get a concussion," he says, helping you down from the table and guiding you to a clearer, quieter area away from the throngs of people.

Just then, Eunwoo pulls Riki aside, his frustration evident. "I might give up on her," Eunwoo admits, his voice heavy with resignation.

"No, you can't give up on her. It's either you go for her or go for her," Riki insists, his determination unwavering. He then returns to help you, leaving Eunwoo to ponder his words.

As Riki leads you to a more secluded spot, you try to catch your breath. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your words slurring slightly.

"Because I told you that you might have a concussion," Riki replies, his tone patient.

"You don't care if I wake up," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

"I do," he says, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

"Why?" you challenge him, your voice softer now.

"Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me," he responds with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like you could find one," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I just... need to sit down."

You sit down on a swing, trying to regain your balance. As you nearly fall off again, Riki catches you, his cologne mingling with the night air. The scent is comforting, and you lean into him slightly. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits you, and you feel overwhelmingly faint. Riki panics, his grip tightening on you, but before he can react further, you open your eyes and throw up.

"Great, just great," Riki mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and concern He helps you sit back on the swing, his hands firm on your shoulders.

As you try to clear your head, Riki sits down beside you, keeping a close eye on you. "You need to take it easy," he says softly, his tone more gentle now. "This isn't the way to handle things."

"I know," you mumble, your head still spinning. "I just... I just needed to forget for a while."

AS THE NIGHT WINDS DOWN , Riki drives you home, the hum of the engine mingling with the music blasting through the speakers. You're still half drunk, feeling the aftereffects of the party, but a strange sense of clarity begins to settle over you.

"I should do this," you say, gesturing toward the car's interior as you lean back in your seat.

"Start a band?" Riki asks, glancing at you with a teasing smile.

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, install car stereos. My father would LOVE for me to start a band," you add with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Riki chuckles, pulling up in front of your house. "It must be ass having a dad like that," he comments, turning the engine off.

You shrug, the weight of your family's expectations pressing down on you. "I mean, it's not that bad. It's just..."

"Just what?" he prompts, his tone gentle, encouraging you to open up.

"He wants me to be like, you know, Karina," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration and a hint of sadness.

Riki pauses, considering his words carefully. "Well, no offense or anything... but I know everyone 'digs' your sister. But she's without."

"Without what?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Without... substance, I guess. She's all surface," he explains, glancing at you with an earnest expression. "But you... you've got depth."

You look at him, surprised by his honesty. "You know, you're not as vile as I thought you were," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

Riki's gaze lingers on your lips, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. Feeling a rush of emotions, you lean in for a kiss, but at the last second, he turns away.

"Maybe next time," he says hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise your eyebrow, confused and a bit hurt, but you nod reluctantly. "Yeah, maybe next time," you murmur, opening the car door and stepping out.

RIKI MEETS UP WITH EUNWOO at their usual spot, a small café near the school. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the sleepy town.

"So, are you giving up on her?" Riki asks, stirring his coffee absently.

"Nope," Eunwoo replies, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't until she kissed me last night."

Riki pauses, his own smile starting to grow. "Where?"

"In the car," Eunwoo says, still smiling. Riki's smile drops abruptly.

Eunwoo looks confused. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. She would've been too drunk to remember," Riki says simply, his voice flat.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you’re walking with your best friend Shuhua, enjoying the crisp morning air as you head to school. The sun is shining, and the school grounds are buzzing with the usual pre-class chatter.

"Are you going to prom?" Shuhua asks, nudging you playfully.

You shrug, a nonchalant expression on your face. "Only if someone asks me out. Got no dresses anyway."

"Don’t you got a man?" Shuhua teases, winking at you.

You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes. "Oh, shush. I don't even remember anything from that day," you say, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity about the night of the party.

As you both walk inside the classroom, you find your seats just as the bell rings. The teacher, Mrs. Kim, stands at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to settle down.

"Good morning, class," she begins, her voice calm and authoritative. "Today, we’re starting a new poetry project. Each of you will be tasked with creating a poems over the next two weeks. This project is an opportunity to express yourselves and explore your creativity. Perhaps some of you will even discover a hidden talent."

AS RIKI IS HEADING TO HIS LOCKER, Daeho approaches him with a confident stride. He pulls out a wad of cash and holds it out to Riki.

"Here," Daeho says, his tone matter-of-fact. "I want you to go all out and ask YN to prom." He counts out $200, handing it to Riki.

Riki sighs, shaking his head. "Do you know what? I'm sick of this game."

Daeho sighs in exasperation, pulling out another $100 bill. "Fine, $300?" He waves the bill enticingly in front of Riki.

Riki stares at the money, feeling a mix of frustration and temptation. Hesitantly, he takes the cash, the weight of the bills heavy in his hand. "Deal," he mutters.

YOU FIND YOURSELF AT THE LOCAL GUITAR SHOP, testing out a sleek new guitar. The shop is quiet, with only the faint hum of an amp and the occasional strum of strings breaking the silence. You lose yourself in the music, fingers dancing over the frets.

As you play, Riki walks in. His eyes immediately fixate on you, captivated by the way you effortlessly make the guitar sing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching you.

Before you can turn around and realize he’s there, Riki quietly slips out of the store, leaving as silently as he came. The bell above the door rings softly, but you’re too immersed in your music to notice.

DURING DETENTION, the classroom is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the scratch of pencils on paper and the occasional rustling of pages. Riki sits at his desk, focused on his work, when he notices you walk in, looking particularly determined.

You spot him and make brief eye contact. Then, in a moment of clear but silent communication, you mouth the words "out the window" to him. Riki's eyes widen slightly, and he nods.

Without wasting a moment, you walk over to the principal’s desk, where Mr. Thompson is absorbed in grading papers. You start chatting, your voice intentionally loud.

"Mr. Thompson, did you know that the cafeteria is planning to add more vegetarian options next week?" you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. "And I heard they're thinking about changing the school colors to something more vibrant. Isn't that exciting?"

Mr. Thompson looks up from his papers, his attention momentarily diverted. "Really? I hadn't heard about that. Interesting..."

As you continue your rambling, your eyes dart over to Riki. He glances toward the window, then makes his move. He quickly and quietly slips out of his seat and makes his way to the window, sliding it open with practiced ease.

You keep up your distraction, now discussing something completely irrelevant about the new vending machine snacks. "And, oh! The snacks! They might be switching to gluten-free options. I mean, who cares about gluten, right? But it’s a big deal!"

Riki is now halfway out the window, his movements smooth and swift. You watch as he manages to sneak out of the building, disappearing from view.

Seeing him safely out, you wrap up your conversation "Yeah! So, um, thanks for listening, Mr. Thompson. Uhm, bye."

YOU AND RIKI ARE ON A BOAT DATE.

"Can't thank you enough for sneaking me out of detention," Riki says, glancing at you with a smirk.

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet of the lake. "I mean, detention is a pain in the ass anyways." Riki's gaze lingers on you as you look back at him, your smile widening.

"So, what's your excuse?" Riki asks after a pause, his eyes still fixed on yours.

"For?" you prompt, genuinely curious.

"For acting the way we do?" he clarifies, raising an eyebrow.

You think for a moment, then reply, "I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

Riki nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Wise words, hmm?"

You roll your eyes playfully. Your gaze lingers on his for a moment before you turn your attention back to the conversation. "Well, I suppose we all need a little rebellion now and then."

"Speaking of which," riki add, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter, "up for some paintball games?"

you glance at riki, slightly puzzled. "Huh?"

THE PAINTBALL FIELD IS A WHIRLWIND OF CHAOS. Paint splatters everywhere, turning the once-green grass into a vibrant canvas of colors.

You and Riki are in the thick of it, your faces smeared with colorful splotches of paint. You're both laughing and ducking behind barriers, your competitive spirits shining through. After a particularly intense round, you both find yourselves crashing onto a large pile of hay bales, the soft, cushioned landing a welcome relief.

As you lie there, catching your breath, Riki’s gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, and without thinking, you lean in and close the distance between you.

Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. Riki’s hand instinctively cups your cheek. You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, you pull back, breathless and smiling. Before Riki can fully recover from the kiss, you reach for a nearby paintball, holding it up playfully.

With a mischievous grin, you drop the paintball on him, splattering his shirt with a burst of color.

"You’re going to pay for that!" he shouts, his voice filled with laughter as he leaps up and starts chasing you.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU SETTLE IN, you’re laughing and talking when Riki suddenly leans in and kisses your neck.

“Come to prom with me, hm?” Riki asks, his voice gentle but hopeful.

You glance at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Is that a request or a command?”

“Come on, go with me,” he replies, his tone earnest.

You shake your head, still smiling but firm. “No.”

Riki’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” you say, your voice steady. “Because it’s a stupid tradition.”

Riki’s expression shifts to one of confusion and frustration. “Come on, people won’t expect you to go.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling a sense of unease. “Why are you pushing this so much?”

Riki is momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

“What’s in it for you?” you demand, your tone sharper now. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”

Riki hesitates, clearly taken aback by your question. “So now I need a motive to be with you?” he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“You tell me,” you press, your curiosity piqued.

Riki’s expression shifts again, but there’s something off in his demeanor. “You need therapy. Has anyone told you that?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Answer me, Riki.”

He looks away, frustration evident in his posture. “Nothing. There’s nothing in it for me.”

Before you can respond, Riki pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The sight catches you off guard.

Your eyes widen as you watch him take a drag.

“I—” you start, but your words trail off.

“I need some space,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you turn and head inside the house.

────────────────────────────────

YOU STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, admiring your reflection. You're wearing a stunning, floor-length, royal blue gown with delicate silver embroidery along the bodice. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and a slight shimmer that catches the light with every movement. Your hair is styled in loose waves, and you're wearing simple yet elegant jewelry to complement your outfit.

"I'm going to prom, Dad," you call out, grabbing your clutch.

Your dad looks up from his newspaper, smiling warmly. "Oh, okay. Have fun, sweetie."

As you head towards the door, your younger sister Karina follows closely behind. Your dad stands up, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

"To prom?" Karina replies nonchalantly.

Just then, the doorbell rings. You open it to find Eunwoo standing there, looking dapper in his tuxedo. His jaw drops when he sees Karina.

Your dad, sensing something is up, looks between Karina and Eunwoo. "Turn and explain," he demands.

Karina sighs dramatically. "Fine. You know how you said I could date someone only if Y/N does? Well, turns out she found someone perfect for her. And Eunwoo asked me to prom, and I really want to go."

Your dad scrutinizes Eunwoo for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but be back before 9 PM."

Karina's eyes widen in surprise and delight. "Okay, okay! Bye!" She grabs Eunwoo's arm and drags him out of the house towards his car.

────────────────────────────────

YOU ARRIVE AT THE PROM VENUE, the decorations twinkling under the dim lights. The room is filled with laughter and music, but your eyes scan the crowd for someone specific. You spot Riki near the punch table, looking a bit nervous. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him.

"Hey," you greet, and he turns around, his eyes widening in shock at how pretty you look.

"Hi," he responds, his voice almost a whisper.

"Look, I'm sorry about how I questioned your motives," you say, feeling a bit awkward but sincere.

Riki sighs, a smile forming on his lips. "You're forgiven."

You smile back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Ready for prom, then?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Ready for sure."

────────────────────────────────

ON THE DANCE FLOOR, you and Riki are having a blast, laughing and twirling around. The music pulses through the room. Your eyes occasionally dart to Eunwoo and Karina, who are dancing together.

Suddenly, your favorite song starts playing. Your face lights up with excitement. As the chorus hits, you feel a surge of happiness. Impulsively, you lean in and kiss Riki on the lips. He seems surprised at first, but then he smiles into the kiss. His hands on your waist. When you pull back, both of you are laughing, foreheads against each other. What was the worse that could happen?

────────────────────────────────

KARINA IS IN THE BATHROOM, carefully applying her lipstick in the mirror. She takes a step back, admiring her reflection when the door opens, and her best friend walks in.

"What are you doing in here?" her friend asks with a smirk.

Karina glances over, "Oh, Daeho picked me up," she replies, a smug look on her face.

Karina's eyes narrow. "Oh, well, you can have him all."

Her friend shrugs, her smirk widening. "Oh, well, he only liked you for one reason anyway. Plus, he had a little bet going on with his friends."

Karina's smile falters. "What do you mean?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her chest.

"He's gonna nail you tonight," her best friend adds nonchalantly.

Realization dawns on Karina, and a wave of panic washes over her. She doesn't waste another second. Grabbing her clutch, she rushes out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. She needs to find you immediately.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU'RE DNACING WITH RIKI, he spins you around, making you laugh with joy. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes as Daeho shows up and shoves Riki aside with force.

"Why is Karina with that stupid asshole?" Daeho sneers, his eyes blazing with anger.

Riki blinks in confusion, trying to steady himself. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn’t pay you to take out Y/N for some punk to take out Karina," Daeho snaps, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Nothing in it for you, huh?" you mumble. Without another word, you push past him.

As you weave through the crowd, you spot Eunwoo frantically looking around, searching for Karina. He spots Daeho and approaches him, but before he can say anything, Daeho punches him, sending him to the ground.

Karina, who had been rushing to find you, arrives just in time to witness the assault. Her eyes widen in horror and rage as she sees Eunwoo on the floor.

She swings her fist and lands a punch squarely on Daeho's face. "That's what you get for making me date you, bitch!"

Daeho reels from the impact, but Karina doesn't stop. She punches him again, harder this time, her knuckles connecting with a sickening thud. "And that's what you get for doing that to my sister!"

Daeho stumbles back, his face contorted in pain and shock. The crowd watches in stunned silence as Karina turns away from him, breathing heavily. She rushes to Eunwoo's side and helps him to his feet, her expression softening with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

Eunwoo nods, wincing as he touches his jaw. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Karina."

────────────────────────────────

YOU FIND YOURSELF OUTSIDE THE PROM VENUE, your heart heavy with a mix of anger and hurt. The cool night air does little to calm your racing thoughts. Just then, Riki finds you, his face etched with desperation.

"Let me explain!" he pleads, his voice strained.

"You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate? I knew this was a setup!" you snap, glaring at him as you turn to walk away.

Riki quickly grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "Y/N! It wasn't like that," he insists, his grip firm but gentle.

You whip around, your eyes blazing. "Oh, what was it then? A down payment now and a bonus for sleeping with me?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm and pain.

Riki's face crumples, his eyes searching yours. "No, I didn't care about the money. I cared…" His voice falters as he looks into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his expression softening. "I care about you."

You narrow your eyes, the hurt and betrayal swirling inside you. "You are so not what I thought you were," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He tries to reach for you again, desperation clear in his eyes. "Please, Y/N, just listen—"

But you push him away, tears stinging your eyes. "No, Riki. I can't," you say, your voice breaking. Without looking back, you rush away from him, your heart aching with every step.

────────────────────────────────

IT'S POETRY READING DAY IN CLASS, and Mrs. Kim stands at the front, looking over her students. "Who wants to start their poem first?" she asks.

Reluctantly, you raise your hand, feeling the weight of your emotions. Across the room, Riki watches you intently.

You stand up and begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme."

You sigh, the words heavy on your heart. "I hate it… I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." You glance up, tears welling in your eyes as you look directly at Riki. "I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close. Not even a little, not even at all."

As you finish, you walk back to your seat, tears streaming down your face. The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Riki's eyes are glued to you, his expression a mix of regret and realization. He thinks for a moment, knowing he has something in mind.

────────────────────────────────

AFTER SCHOOL, you're walking to your car, and then you see it: a guitar, but not just any guitar—your favorite dream guitar. You freeze, admiring it in shock. You open the front door and grab the guitar in awe, your fingers tracing the strings.

"Nice, huh?" a voice says from behind. You turn to see Riki, smiling.

"A Fender Strat?" you whisper, your eyes widening as you glance at him. "Is it for me?"

He grins. "Yeah, I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. Besides, I had extra cash, you know."

You raise an eyebrow, curious. "Extra cash?"

Riki takes a breath, looking a bit sheepish. "Some asshole paid me to take out this really pretty girl."

You stare at him, a small smile forming on your face. "Is that right?"

He shrugs, stepping closer. "Yeah, but I screwed up. I fell for her."

"Really?" you ask, your heart pounding.

"I think so," he murmurs, as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His lips meet yours gently at first, soft, as if testing the waters. His hand on your waist pulls you closer, the warmth of his touch spreading through you. The other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You pull away slightly, teasing, "You know you can't buy me a guitar every time you screw up, right?"

He chuckles. "Well, there's always drums, bass, and maybe even a tambourine," he says, leaning in for another kiss.

[shawtuzi]

you’re the bad boy that i’ve always dreamed of ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

here’s a little something of how plug!geto and reader went from strangers to lovers!! this will contain smut and some drug use so mdni thank yewww <3 pairing: plug!geto x black coded reader///wc:3.2k

STRANGERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• it was a friday night when suguru received a message from you on instagram asking for a 3.5–just from the message alone he could tell it was your first time doing this. it was cute the way you added exclamation points and a smiley face at the end of your message.

• the first time he saw you he was starstruck. it’s not even like you were dressed up, just a simple black tank top and some pink juicy couture shorts. the way you were so soft spoken and smelled so damn good—oh he wanted you, he needed you. thus began the long game of suguru trying to pursue you.

geto’s first impression of you: so damn pretty, smells like vanilla n for some amazing reason cookie dough, on the taller side, one of the most gracious people he’s ever met while dropping off some weed—srsly you said ‘thank you so so much!’ like four times before he even handed it to you, a little on the awkward side but he likes it heje.

your first impression of geto: drives a nice ass car, pulled up blasting partynextdoor so he must have good music taste, the longest n most prettiest hair you’ve ever seen on a man—you couldn’t help but wonder if it felt as soft as it looked, a little on the intimidating side but you did get a small smile out of him and mannn did he have a pretty smile, will definitely be messaging him again soon.

• the second time he dropped you off some weed he put in a little extra bc of as rn you were his favorite customer regardless if it was only your second time shopping. this time he made a little conversation:

“i like your hair, suits you really well,” it was a very mesmerizing burgundy color, reaching almost towards your bottom. you of course were very taken aback, your cheeks feeling like someone set hot coals on them. you picked at your denim skirt, trying to avoid his gaze. “thank you suguru i, uh, got it done this morning. i wasn’t so sure about the color when she finished but i’m starting to like it more and more!” you gave him a little smile, which he gratefully returned. geto scaled your weed one more time before giving it to you, his fingers brushing against any part of your hand/wrist he could touch.

“so you know how to roll?” he asked, using the elastic on his wrist to put his hair in a bun, you had to physically restrain yourself from giving it just a little touch </3 you puffed air from your cheeks, shaking your head, “nah i just use this pipe my friend gave me i’m not quite an expert at that yet.” suguru’s smile got wider at your words, now he had the perfect excuse to get you to smoke with him. he ran his tongue over his lips, a shiny ball on the center of his tongue catching your attention. “you should let me teach you how to do it sometime—ah, i mean if you want you don’t have to,” and that was the first time suguru heard you laugh and that sound might’ve gotten him higher than any strain he’s ever smoked.

“i’d love for you to teach me!”

• the third time you both saw each other it was not transactional, just a simple hotbox session. he taught you how to roll up and although it was very sweet of him to do so it was very hard to concentrate. his hands—which were both tatted tf up moved so swiftly as he packed the blunt and rolled it. don’t even get me started on the way he sealed the blunt with his tongue, there was something so sensual about it especially with the way he was looking at you. you both learned a lot about each other that night, and that my friends was the start of a beautiful friendship.

FRIENDS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• you and geto hanging out became a regular occurrence. he no longer charged you for weed, instead he would just send you on your way with some after each smoke sesh. every time he saw you his crush only got bigger and bigger, and he was sure he was starting to become not to subtle about it.

• every morning you woke up to a good morning text from him, followed by him bidding you a good day and to text him if you needed anything. some days he surprised you with lunch at your job, or brought takeout on nights that you invited him over to smoke. it was getting to a point if one of you didn’t hear from the other for even a day you’d think there was some tension bc you just hung out that much.

• it wasn’t often but suguru did let you hit the block with him whenever he wanted some company. you were his passenger princess—you had full control over the aux, he had some of your fav snacks in the glove compartment, and best of all he always had a preroll for you to smoke in case you got bored. sometimes if you were real bored he’d let you pack and scale the weed (he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little bit watching you do it).

• tons of ‘platonic’ hugs and cuddling. geto basically wishes he could live in your skin, you were just so soft and smelt so fucking good it gave him the worst cuteness aggression. one of your friends caught you two doing the good ol’ swaying side to side hug and from that day on they never let up on the allegations that you both had a crush on each other.

• i mentioned before that as the days went by suguru’s crush on you grew more and more and with that came his jealousy. geto considered himself a very levelheaded man, i mean with a temper like his he had to or else he’d be in jail right now. so when he saw some man come up behind you to feel you up while you were dancing with your friends livid wasn’t even the word:

“um excuse you,” you hissed attempting to push the stranger away, but before you could even touch him he was yanked away by a very angry geto. “do you touch every girl you find attractive without her permission? hm? speak the fuck up i can’t hear you,” while his words were harsh his facial expression was eerily calm, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. “i was just having a lil’ fun is all cmon sugu—” geto cut the stranger off and pointed to you, “do it look like she’s having fun right now? are you having fun y/n?” you scrunched up your nose, shaking your head. suguru kissed him teeth, glaring at the man, “now get the fuck on, seriously, you’re a good customer of mine i don’t wanna have to fuck you up yeah?” and that was the end of that.

the ride back to your place was quiet until geto spoke up, “i didn’t embarrass you did i? i know you could’ve held your own and your friends were there but—” you cut geto off with a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering for just a few seconds longer than they should’ve. “you didn’t embarrass me sugu, thank you for sticking up for me i really appreciate you,” the way your eyes sparkled when you said those last four words had suguru’s heart pounding against his ribcage. you probably think he kissed you right?? WRONG MY MANS PUSSIED OUT!!!

• geto was totally convinced he fumbled his only chance to kiss you until one faithful night, during a hotbox session you lent over the console and kissed him. you’d think a lot of words would be exchanged after that but after waiting almost a year to feel your lips against his the last thing suguru wanted to do in that moment was talk. the hotbox consisted of lots of nasty kisses, suguru sloppily kissing n sucking at your neck, and a SMIDGE of dry humping.

FRIENDS W/ BENEFITS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• each hangout with geto after that night was filled with lots of kissing and grabbing, my man just could not keep his hands to himself even if he rlly tried. for a few weeks it never went further than dry humping, both you too scared that you’d cross a boundary.

• the first time suguru went down on you it was during your monthly movie night. you were making out, nothing out of the ordinary maybe a couple ass grabs here and there. it wasn’t until you gave a particularly rough tug to his hair that he noticed his self control was starting to crumble—he just had to indulge in you. that’s how you ended up with your legs over his broad shoulders while he made out with your pussy, making you cum four times consecutively.

•geto was obsessed after that. my mans never turned down an opportunity to eat you out—he didn’t care if it was in the car, on the floor, the shower, in front of his goddamn roommate one way or another his head was gonna end up between your plushy thighs. that tongue piercing did wonders for you, the feeling of it randomly brushing against your swollen clit always had your eyes crossing.

• now the first time you went down on geto he came down your throat a few minutes in like a goddamn virgin. of course it didn’t take long for him to get hard again and minutes later he was fucking your throat. you were taking it like a champ and he was sooo proud of you. he was a good six and half inches but incredibly thick, so thick it was almost impossible not to gag and slob all over him—but don’t worry you soon learned he likes his head very messy. you also learned that he’s a god tier praiser!!

some things he says when you give him head include: ‘that’s it babe take it nice n slow—hah! yeah jus like that’, ‘this tight ass throat is gonna make me nut already gorgeous’, ‘that’s right gorgeous take that fuckin’ dick lemme hear you choke’, ‘you’re so pretty like this—look so pretty, f-fuck don’t look at me like that or i’ll cum’ <3

• the first time you and geto had sex was after a block party, you already knew you were done for not even an hour in when suguru thought it would be a good idea to pour a shot in your mouth, his tatted hand snug against your throat as you swallowed. after that he was glued to your side the rest of the night, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. you felt people staring, mainly girls who have been trying to get at geto before you even came into the picture but you didn’t care one bit—it was even a little funny watching their fuming faces as you danced with him:

“and who’re you tryna put a show on for?” suguru whispered in your ear, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eyes. you pulled him closer by his chain, the alcohol in your system giving you a boost of confidence. “i’m just tired of those bitches staring, wanna give them something to look at since they wanna look so bad,” you whipped your head around, and sure enough those hatin ass hoes were still staring. suguru hummed, a smirk soon making its way onto his lips.

“follow me gorgeous, i wanna take you somewhere.”

• geto ended up taking you to his secret sanctum, a lookout point that had the most beautiful view of the city—a place where he can be alone with his thoughts about you. it didn’t take long for him to have you against the hood of his car, fucking into with everything his heart had to offer. you lost count of how many orgasms he got out of you, but what you do remember is the words he whispered into your ear as he finished inside you:

“wha’? what’d you say sugu?” you whispered, gently removing his face from your neck. his post-sex glow was ungodly, but there was something in his eyes that had your heart feeling heavy. “i like you. i like so you much y/n. i’m tired of being your friend, i wanna be your boyfriend n’ have you all to myself,” he said every word as slowly and clearly as possible to make sure you understood his confession. you were quiet, too quiet, it had his heart twisting with every beat of silence.

“i like you too suguru.”

LOVERS ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

• suguru was the most attentive and loving boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for. he’s the kind of boyfriend where he doesn’t see why his girlfriend shouldn’t get everything she asks for, so best believe he took spoiling you to a whole other level. you needed you hair done? boom paid for. you needed your nails and toes done? he’s at the counter paying for it while you get pampered. you hungry? he’ll get you whatever you’re craving even if it means multiple stops.

• announced your relationship on his social media by posting a picture of you holding two zips of weed to your head, a geeked out smile on your glossy lips—he captioned it ‘all i need in this life of sin’ and OF COURSEEE put ‘03’ bonnie and clyde’ as the song for the background.

• suguru isn’t the biggest fan of pda but that doesn’t stop him from leaving little kisses on your shoulders or doing that one thing where he gives your hips the tiniest squeeze before wrapping his arms around you. if you get him lit enough though he’ll turn into the biggest fucking slut omg i’m talking pushing you against his front so you can feel how hard his underneath his pants, giving you a particularly sloppy kiss outta nowhere, but your favorite is when he gives you the low red eyes and lip bite combo. yup that’ll do it every time:

“n-no pda my ass you turned my cute lap dance into me—hah! almost riding you in front of—a-ah! everyoneeee fuck sugu! why’re you fucking me like that?” your mind was truly baffled at how rough and deep geto was fucking you against the bathroom stall. your words fell on deaf ears as geto fucked into you harder, the stall door thumping with every thrust. suguru groaned, shoving himself all the way in before stilling his hips. “it’s almost like you do the shit on purpose. . . wanna make me wanna lose my cool in front of everyone and act like a fucking slut just like you,” he removed his face from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. “i was chillin’ till you started do your little ‘lap dance’—had me humping on you like i was some fuckin’ virgin,” you both laughed at the last part. you brought your hands to suguru’s face, cupping his cheeks, “it’s okay babe let’s just be slutty together yeah?” geto hissed when he felt your pussy clench around his dick, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip.

“you’re so fucking nasty. . . i love it.”

• it’s safe to say that after that geto warmed up more to the idea of pda

• your family is surprisingly obsessed with suguru, he had them all under his charming spell the first time he visited your parents’ house. when talking about his place of employment he might’ve left out the fact that he sells weed on the side but he was very honest about his apprenticeship at tattoo parlor.

• speaking of him learning to be a tattoo artist, he’s the one that gave you your first tattoo. nothing too crazy just ‘worthy’ tatted on your upper thigh—it hurt like a bitch but he praised you the whole way through it. this eventually lead to him eating you out after he was done to reward you for handling it like a champ <3

• the first time suguru says i love you is after he comes home from a little scuffle and you being the angel you were tended to him. it was so random yet rolled off his tongue so easily, it just felt right. you were shocked but nonetheless so happy to hear those three words from him, you returned them of course followed by a loving kiss. this is also the first time suguru has ever made love to you—hell made love to anyone:

“this is so nice—shit, why haven’t we ever done this before baby?” suguru was breathless, borderline gasping for air at how good you felt. as much as he considered himself to be a lover boy geto has never quite made love—at least not like this. everything was so slow, yet so sensual and filled with so much love he could’ve teared up. you paused your assault on his neck, removing your face to look up at him and wow you’ve never looked more beautiful. you had the tiniest pout on your lips—a silent plea for him to give you a kiss, which he happily gave you. “you’re so deep sugu. . .‘feel you in my stomach,” you gasped when you felt his tip hit a particularly deep spot inside you, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. suguru whined—yes you heard me WHINED when he heard you say that, his already slow pace faltering slightly. “don’t say shit like that please baby—shiiit, m’tryna last,” his hand was holding onto your hip so tightly it would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. you kissed your way from his jaw to his neck once more, sucking on the spot just below his ear. “let go sugu, want you to finish inside me—ngh! make me feel warm,” you whispered the last part in his ear and that’s what finally did it. with one final stroke geto whispered those three words in your ear, making shivers travel up your spine.

“i love you more suguru <3”

BONUS (a little aftercare scene bc i can’t help myself)

after making love to you geto couldn’t help himself and fucked you so damn silly you couldn’t move a limb after he was finished with you. “that was a little much wasn’t it?” you groaned, scooting your body to be closer to him. suguru chuckled, giving your forehead three sweet kisses. “i couldn’t help myself babe, i was filled with sooo much love i just had to let it out,” you squealed when he slapped your ass, his hand gripping onto the flesh roughly. you lifted your head up to glare at him, the pout on your face making him coo, annoying you even more. “did my pussy have to be the victim of it? i can’t stand you. . . or your stupid dick,” you grumbled, poking at his now soft dick. geto smushed your cheeks together, pulling your face closer to his, “now you know you don’t mean that.” a smirk tugged at his lips when you didn’t respond, “that’s what i thought now c’mere and lemme hold you.” you huffed, laying your head on his chest, the dull sounding beat his heart making you drowsier by the minute.

“i love you so much y/n.”

THE END ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

[luveline]

hiiii if you’re still looking for remus centered requests, i rly liked your best friend steve giving reader a hickey and couldn’t help but think of Remus too! like him helping a shy reader not feel insecure about being the ‘inexperienced’ one of their friend group… by giving her some experience 👀💞? love ya lots!

love u thank u for requesting<3

—Remus gives you your first kiss, and then a little more than that. You know, between friends. fem, 1.2k

“Will anyone kiss me tonight, or shall I go unkissed, like some leper?” 

You laugh at Sirius’ drama. “It’s not so terrible,” you say, coming up the hallway behind him and James, your face bitten by the cold. 

“I know, my lovely little blueberry muffin,” Sirius croons, leaning back and prodding at your cheeks, the smell of cider stuck to him like a cloud, “how you remain unkissed is a mystery to me. Shall we fix that now?” 

Sirius is your friend, he doesn’t poke fun, but you flush nervously at his question. James grabs Sirius by the shoulders and yanks him away from you toward the kitchen, “Stop teasing!” 

“I’m not teasing! I would love to kiss you, sweetheart, just as soon as I can figure out which one of you is the real one,” Sirius says. 

Remus laughs and closes the front door, the last one in. He wraps his hand around your shoulders. “He’d be so lucky,” he says loudly, sending a sulking, pouting Sirius in the opposite direction, James on his tail in giggles promising to feed him some unbuttered toast if he doesn’t chill out. 

Remus’ arm falls behind your back. “Why does he act like that? Four drinks and he’s in love with everyone. He gets so urgent.” 

You confess slowly, “I can’t say I blame him. Sometimes… I wish someone would kiss me quite urgently, and I don’t even need to get drunk.”

“You do?” 

“Just because I’ve never had one doesn’t mean I don’t want one,” you say, “it’s really weird being the only one who doesn’t– who isn’t dating anyone.” You fluster at your confession, worried it’s too much to share, even while his thumb rubs affectionately into your shoulder. 

“I’m not dating anyone,” Remus says. 

“No, but, going for hookups and stuff–”

You falter as he laughs. “You want one night stands?” 

“No,” you say honestly, “but still. You’ve all done that stuff and I’m like, a twenty something loser.” 

“You listen to Sirius too much. You have an entire life to find someone to kiss you.” 

“I sort of want it now, though,” you say meekly. 

Remus laughs again, his arm wrapping tightly behind your back. You’ve both had a drink too, not tipsy like Sirius but the buzz of it perhaps the cause of your loosened tongue, and his easy touching, his teasing. He smiles down at you kindly, “You want a kiss, is that it?” he asks, “Sirius has upset you and a kiss will make it better?” 

You find you love the feeling of his chest pressed to yours, “I don’t know. It would be nice to have one just so he can stop talking about it.” 

He pulls you right into him and angles his face against yours like he’s going to kiss you, his laughing a soft warmth on the tip of your nose. “You want it right now?” he asks, his hand rubbing sweetly into your back. Layers of fabric feel useless; it’s like he’s caressing naked skin. 

“You can’t kiss me,” you say. 

“Why not?” 

“We’re friends.” 

“What’s a good kiss between friends?” He’s following your eyes, he knows all your tones, Remus wouldn’t play with you like this if he thought it wasn’t what you wanted.

“I won’t know how to do it,” you warn in a whisper, you’re reluctance clearly fading.  

“Well, you’re very pretty, so any bad kissing cancels out.” 

You bend into him as his arm pulls you up, your noses nearly touching, closing your eyes as he leans in. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

“Mm,” you hum, though he doesn’t kiss you until you nod. 

Your noses press together most of all, the strongest sensation, but then there’s heat as his lips part so slightly and press into yours. He kisses upward and you have the sense to keep pressing down, letting his soft kisses move you with him, like an ebbing wave. You take an instinctive step back and he pauses, until you attempt to kiss him again and prompt him into movement —he takes the lead. His hands grasp at your back like you’re water slipping through his fingers, letting a sound of pleasure filter from his lips into yours. 

It’s so peculiar. It’s like fireworks, like all the books and movies say, but it’s more. It’s so warm, and his lips are soft even as his kissing turns rougher, as he tilts his head to the side and his lips come apart against yours. Your hand climbs hesitantly against his side, then up, then stuck at the place just above his ribs. 

“Touch me,” he says gently, breaking the kiss as your breath comes fast, “wrap your arm around me, it’s alright.” 

“Am I hopeless?” you ask, placing your arm behind his shoulder and tipping back to see his face. 

He shakes his head, frowning, why is he frowning? “Hopeless?” he repeats. His hand comes up to your face, and that’s almost as bad as the kiss, the heat of his palm on your face and his thumb stroking over the slope of your cheek. He uses that movement to turn your head, and when he ducks in for another kiss, he murmurs, “No, I wouldn’t say hopeless,” the end of it lost on your lips. 

This kiss is rougher again. Your heart beats so loudly you can hear the thump of it in your ears as your eyes close and you attempt to fit a hundred wanted kisses into one. He just squeezes you close and returns your enthusiasm, until you can’t breathe, forced to hang your head over his shoulder as you pant for air. 

Remus kisses your neck. It’s a shock: you squirm at the sensation but let your head fall to the side as he does it again, not nearly as insistent as his lips had been on yours but something unsaid in the trail of his nose as it runs back up your neck and he kisses the skin below your ear. He slows, and slows, until he’s pulling away to stare at you. 

You lift yourself up, nonplussed. “I didn’t know it felt like that.” 

Remus shifts his hand from the side of your neck to the front, wiping at the marks of his kissing with his thumb where it wets your skin. “It doesn’t always.” He smiles at you with just a hint of smugness in his eyes. “I don’t suppose you want to know what a love bite feels like?” 

“Oi!” James calls from the kitchen. “What are you two doing?” 

You pull apart slowly from one another. You think he might’ve forgotten where you were, as did you. 

James catches the fall of Remus’ hand where it had been on your cheek and squints suspiciously. “What are you guys doing? I made toast.” 

You can’t look at him. Remus saves the day. “We’re looking for her earring.” 

“You won’t find it with the lights off.” He glares again with suspicion before turning back to the kitchen. “I didn’t even know she wore earrings,” he mutters. 

Remus gives you a sideways look. “Maybe I can show you what it feels like after?” he suggests, voice measured. 

“Between friends?” you ask. 

“No.” He puts his hand to the small of your back and gives you a gentle nudge down the hallway. “Not between friends.” 

[saetoru]

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.

[ariaste]

Apparently there was some lil drama in Good Omens fandom again about people being deeply nervous and scared of the end of Season 3, and I wrote this in the replies of one of the asks that Neil Gaiman answered, but I feel like it is deserving of being crossposted into its own post (in a slightly expanded form) so folks actually see it.

cmere, good omens fandom, we're having an intervention. a Come To Jesus talk, if you will.

First of all, I'm literally begging the fandom to:

learn what personal boundaries are, especially around parasocial relationships with strangers. (Suggestion: When sending asks to authors you like, use "polite work email" etiquette, not "joking with a friend" etiquette. The latter comes off REAL weird sometimes, and sometimes outright mean/rude/bullying).

take a couple deep fucking breaths

embrace the philosophy of The Author's Intent Only HAS To Matter To The Author, It Does Not Have To Matter To YOU. If you do not like the author's intent, you can say "hmmmm no thanks" and write some fanfic. That's what it's for.

Friends, Romans, countrymen..... Stop trying to make Neil Gaiman responsible for your happiness. For one thing, that is an absolutely unfair and cruel burden to put on a stranger who doesn't know you. Neil is only responsible for Neil's happiness. You're responsible for your own happiness. In fact, do not rely on ANY external source to guarantee your happiness, not even very nice people like Neil, not even your significant other, not even your family members. Yes, those people might be able to help you with your happiness, but they cannot guarantee it. Expecting a third party to guarantee your happiness is how corporations exploit you, and it is the source of all media trauma. Take agency over your own joy! Don't give away your power! Plan to DIY your personal ideal ending!

Neil is not telepathic, Neil cannot know all your hopes and dreams and wishes, nor SHOULD he be expected to know them, nor does he have space to know them. He is busy with things like his own and Terry's hopes and dreams and wishes. Their hopes/dreams/wishes are just as valid and important as yours, aren't they? Yes, they are. So calm down. caaaaaaaallllllm dowwwwwn.

Yes, I love the show very much too, but at the end of the day it is just a story. And the great thing about stories is that you are empowered to retell them in a different way. It is not real, so if you end up unsatisfied by S3, then blithely impose your own reality and build your own joy. It's not like it's the End Of The World or anything (lil fandom joke there for you)

And look, if you read this and you're feeling Mad and Upset or Frustrated about it, that is a symptom that you are maybe feeling a little stung in your Media Trauma parts. I am sorry that other stories have let you down in the past, and I really sympathize that you are feeling scared about the fate of this story that really matters to you. You've invested a lot of love into it! I really understand the fear! You don't want to be hurt again, and that's super understandable and normal.

But bestie, literally the only way for you to find a story that's exactly perfect for you and that won't hurt you at all is for you to write it yourself. I know that sucks to hear, but it is the truth. If you keep pinning a hope of perfection on other people's stories, you will keep getting traumatized by the media you consume. Love other people's stories for what they ARE, not for the stories that you WANTED them to be -- the same way that we love people, you know? You have to let a person be their own person; you can't force them to be someone else. That's fucked up, so if you notice that you keep trying to do that, maybe go to therapy so you can be that Someone-Else person for yourself (or, if you can't afford therapy, read some self-help books from the library or find some good channels on Youtube who make content that might help with that (I really like JulienHimself)).

If you need a story to be something big and important for you, if you are seeking catharsis and healing from a story that matters to you and you're really scared that you won't get it, then open a Word document and start typing. You can do it. You're a human being, and you evolved to tell stories. Literally it's a species specialization. You got this. It's gonna be okay, because you're going to seize the means of production and MAKE it okay. Yes? Yes.

Good Omens S3 will be what it will be. It will be what Neil wants it to be and what Terry would have wanted it to be. Period. That IS actually the highest achievement and the most noble and admirable accomplishment that we can hope for. And hey, maybe what they want overlaps with what you want, and that will be wonderful! But that will be merely a happy coincidence. The only person who can TRULY center your wants is YOU. So stop trying to trap Neil into doing it, please, because he's busy and it's not his job, AND because your wants do matter and you deserve to have someone who can give your wants their 100% full attention (aka you. that's you. only you can do that. Not even your best friends in the world can do it. Not even your mom can do it, at least not if you're old enough to know how to read.)

It's gonna be okay. Really. Really, it is. No, stop typing the snarky melodramatic reply. This is not the time for jokes; I'm being serious. It's going to be okay. Neil Gaiman can only break your heart exactly as much as you allow him to do so. That's how art works. You have to consent in order to be affected by it, and you can withdraw your consent at any time. You're going to be okay. I promise. As long as you choose to claim your own agency and your own empowerment as an individual, then all will be well and all manner of things will be well.

[lace-coffin]

Hi! Can I ask how the slashers would feel if they ever accidentally hurt their s/o? Gender and everything is up to you!

How slashers would react to Accidently hurting their S/O

Thank you so much for my first ever request ah! I hope you enjoy 💖

Requests are open!

Warning for blood/injury - mild sexual content/reference to sexual activity and power dynamics -unhealthy relationships (I think?)

Reader is gender neutral!

Bubba sawyer

Most likely happened via Bubba playing too hard and Accidently pushing you over or being a bit too heavy handed with you. If it’s a case of them mistaking you for a victim and catching you with their chainsaw before being able to stop then they’ll be even more in inconsolable : (

Stops and stares for a minute to process what’s happened before devolving into full blown panic.

She’ll drop whatever she’s doing to carry you back to the house, even if that means letting the victim escape and having Drayton yell at her.

Will hurriedly explain in rushed sign to either Choptop or Nubbins to go take care of the victim as he’s busy caring for you.

Checks you over frantically. Please explain you’re going to be ok and help them calm down.

Once he knows you’re not in any danger he’ll feel absolutely awful about it and whine apologies to you even if you tell him that it’s ok and it wasn’t their fault.

Please comfort them once you feel better and reassure them.

Will insist you come up with a verbal and nonverbal sign to give if they’re accidently messing around to hard.

Will make you agree to stay in the house out of the way when victims are around so you don’t Accidently get hurt again.

Thomas Hewitt

After another night of Hoyt berating him for things out of his control, Tommy storms off to the basement to cool off. You follow after him, intending to comfort and wanting to help. You place a hand on his shoulder without thinking, forgetting he doesn’t enjoy physical touch without warning, thinking it might help. Whipping around he grabs your wrist a little too hard, causing you to wince.

He snatches his hand back as soon as he realises what he’s done.

Tommy will bring you to Luda may to have her check you over and assess the damage.

Once he knows you’re safe he’ll confine himself to the basement for a few days, only coming out to eat but even then it’s tense.

He’s truly sorry and feels like all those people who called him a monster and an animal were right, he hurt the one he cares about most, after all.

After a few days apart, a lot of hushed words of affirmation and kisses/nose bumps he’ll feel comfortable being with you again.

You know to let him cool off by himself and come to you when he’s ready after a heated argument now.

Michale Myers

You jump out at Michael thinking it would be funny to catch the shape off guard for once and not the other way around. Unfortunately this backfires and he swings his knife at you, thinking it may be an intruder since you’ve never pulled something like this before, You manage to jolt out of the way but the knife still catches you in the shoulder. Thankfully, it’s only superficial and will heal, but it still looks like it needs medical attention.

Initially Michael looks at you unamused, granted it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling underneath the mask. He gives you a kind of “well If you weren’t being dumb this wouldn’t have happened” attitude. However this is a front for the actual panic he refuses to show on the surface.

Having a few cuts and scratches isn’t super uncommon when your with Michael considering his tastes involving knives in bed ; )

Usually hurting others comes naturally and without remorse to Michael, so it shakes him to his core that he’s actively worrying about your wellbeing instead of feeling the usual indifference.

It disturbs him that he actually cares about someone enough to feel remorse for his actions.

After unceremoniously pulling your shirt off and looking the wound over he forces you go to A&E, practically marching your ass out the door.

Since he’s basically an escaped criminal he can’t exactly casually walk in the hospital with you, however he will stalk you the entire time, lurking close by to make sure you arrive and leave safely.

Although he usually has his guard up he vows to try be a little less bristly with you from now on if it means he doesn’t have to see you hurt and feel that awful tug of regret/worry in his chest.

Jason voorhees

You went out looking for Jason one night after he hadn’t returned to the cabin by his usual time. You were worried he’d been overpowered by a group of trespassers or caught in a trap and didn’t have any way to communicate that to you. The woods were beautiful but so dense and vast, getting lost or injured in the thick of them may as well be a death sentence.

Whilst searching for your missing partner you get your leg snagged in a bear trap he had set out previously for the trespassers. You howl in pain as you hear the sickening snap of your ankle between the traps jaws.

Jason was trudging his way back to the cabin when he heard it. Knowing that wasn’t a rougue teen as he’d cleared them out already, alarm bells went off in his head. He stormed to scene as fast as he could.

He could have sworn his undead heart stopped for the second time as he saw you sitting there in agony, murky blood seeping into the forest floor.

He rushes to your side and looks frantically between the trap and your teary face, he knows he’s going to have to disengage the traps and for you it’s going to be..less than pleasent.

He signs for you to grip onto his arm for support. Since he’s already dead and regenerates fairly quickly he feels it’s the least he can do to let you grip his arm for dear life as he wrenches the trap from your shattered ankle. If you cause any damage to his arm (which is very unlikely) it will heal up in no time anyway.

Once he’s carried you back to the cabin he’ll be frantically following Pamela’s directions in his head for what to do and how to clean/ wrap it.

If the damage is extensive he’ll relent and let you go to the hospital, only if a trusted friend takes you though, he’ll be sitting by the window of your shared cabin every minute until you return back to him.

You’re no longer aloud to be out in the woods after dark alone if he’s set traps. You both carry whistles now so if he’s not home and you need to know he’s safe you can whistle to each other and feel more at ease.

Billy Lenz

Interacting with Billy when he’s having an episode is never a good idea. You thought it would be fine to just be in the room though, providing you stay out of his way. As you enter, Billy is in the midst of trashing his attic once again, the disgusting feelings bubbling in his chest too much to bear. You enter just as he’s angrily thrown an old glass christmas ornament at the floor that the sorority had kept in storage. It shatters and flecks of sparkling glass scatter along the floor. One piece catching you in the hand in a nasty glass splinter. You swear under your breath and rush off to take care of it.

Billy doesn’t even realise what’s happened until you return to him, him now having exhausted himself and you knowing it’s safe to try do some damage control. You bring him a sandwich and juice knowing he’ll need it after all the energy and tears he just used up.

Your hands touch as he’s accepting the plate from you with a muted “thank you” and he notices the bandage.

Billy essentially bristles up like an angry cat at the idea of someone hurting his piggy and demands to know who did it and what happened.

Once you tell him it was actually from the ornament he feels horrible. He doesn’t even remember it happening with the state he was in.

He snuggles into the crook of your neck and mumbles apologies into your skin.

Billy will place sloppy kisses over it as an apology until you forgive him. (Not exactly hygenic since it’s an open wound but i mean…you’re dating the attic rat)

Brahms Heelshire

When living with Brahms there isn’t usually much to injure yourself on considering the estate is fairly out of the way from the rest of the village. You most likely caught yourself on a pair of sheers. Brahms is being stubborn about you being out of the house and slings the sheers in your general direction from the door frame when you ask for them. You don’t even notice you sliced your hand when catching them until you see a patch of blood soaking through your gardening gloves about ten minutes later.

You come in to grab a tea towel to wrap your bleeding finger in, not really fazed as it’s only a small cut. Brahms was lurking from the window as you tended to the hedges, not wanting to be away from you but not yet brave enough to tempt leaving the house he’s been in all these years.

As soon as he sees it he’s panicking, it’s only a little cut and you’re not concerned in the slightest but to Brahms you may as well have just came in with an arm missing. He’s instantly flittering around you asking if you’re ok and if you need a hospital.

You stifle your laugh at his over the top concern, you find it rather sweet, it’s not his fault he’s a little bit sheltered.

After cleaning the cut and bandaging it, it’s totally fine. If anything Brahms needs more reassuring and coddling than you do to get him to settle.

He apologises a thousand times for his attitude because he knows If he hadn’t been stroppy about you leaving the house and passed the sheers nicely then you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. He promises to try be more composed when he starts getting antsy.

He may need some ✨punishment✨ in order to encourage his behaviour change and to feel forgiven.

He begrudgingly lets you back outside to garden after about a week.

Asa Emory

If you’re the pet of Asa then it’s likely that most of your injuries are purposefully given from him and are no mistake. You’re poked and prodded often considering your residency in the collection. Wounds from experiments and correctional punishments when you disobey or refuse to submit are not uncommon at all. So it doesn’t bother him since he inflicted them. This also assures he cleans them with clinical precision. If you were anyone else he would leave the wounds to fester, if you died from a complication then that was just inconvenient. Not you though, you’ve caught his attention and heart. He loves you in his own domineering way.

If the wound was created by him on accident then he would give himself a hard time, chastising himself for his carelessness.

For example, if he had more trouble with law enforcement than he thought and that led to you to spending way more time in the trunk than you usually do, causing you to develop a sore from sitting in one cramped position for too long.

Asa would realise you’re injured once you’re let out of the trunk, hissing in pain as you stretch. He makes you show him where you’re hurting so he can inspect over it.

Despite Asa’s stony face his stomach is actively sinking. He knows you’re hurt because of him and it wasn’t purposeful or measured like it would be during a punishment. He sees this as failure in his pet care and it takes a blow to his god complex. Gods don’t make mistakes, but here he is, hurting his dolly by being so out of it.

He’ll make sure to clean it for you and even stop putting you in the trunk for a while. This does however still mean you’ll be attached to him via leash or chain connected to the ring sitting on his belt. Just because you’re hurt and his favourite toy, doesn’t mean he will except anything less than your complete and total submission.

He’ll be more tender and soft handed with you than usual for a while after. Punishments will be withheld until you heal. Then it’s back to normal routine as expected.

Predator/yautja

You were wearing a new perfume you’d picked up at the market during the day, You were only supposed to be getting meats and maybe a new fur for the bed but once the alien at the stand had convinced you to sample it you fell in love with it.

Your mate picks up on an unknown scent entering the house, hackles raising and stalking towards it. As soon as they catch the heat signature they throw a wrist blade in warning.

Their eyes widen in horror, rushing to the door as they catch scent of your tangly blood dripping onto the hardwood floor of your shared home.

The new perfume masked your familiar scent from them, making them believe the house was in danger and being intruded on. If their face could loose colour it would, cringing as they see the wrist blade sticking through your palm, groceries discarded at the door.

They start talking at you in rapid clicks before they realise you can’t actually understand. After making sure to keep the object in your hand so you don’t bleed out and that you’re not going to pass out on them, they insist on carrying you their medic instead of going to an ooman one.

They argue that their medicine is far more advanced and will heal your wound much more efficiently then your “ primitive ooman medicine”

Thanks to yautja medicine being far more advanced, It will heal like nothing ever happened in around two weeks. The wound stitched shut and given some kind of injection.

Your mate purrs and clicks for you deep from their chest the entire time you’re having the blade removed to try calm you.

They beg for forgiveness despite it literally being an accident and will need some reassurance that they haven’t failed you as a mate. Once you’re all healed up they’ll bring back an impressive skull from a hunt as an apology even if you’ve already forgiven them.

Whilst it’s healing you’re probably going be kept in the nest of furs and pulled tightly against them whilst they purr and sooth you.

My requests are open if you’d like to send any prompts or ideas for me to write!