#the center but no one is really looking at him

[kermdoeswriting]

Bruce Wayne's a Foster Parent. Also he avoids death a lot so a dead person can usually tell if a humans meant to have died but didn't.

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"Bruce you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to but-"

Bruce just sighed from his side of the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nobody ever really expects to get a phone call nearing 3 am but exceptions had to be made when you were a legal foster parent and also a part-time secret super hero. If it wasn't one thing calling for him it was the other.

On the other side of the phone, Bruce heard the caseworker, Roni, chuckle.

"It's just for 3 nights and half of the day after, but I need you to be prepared for something before I can pass them off to you."

Bruce sat upright now on his bed, attentively listening to her words. Usually the kids didn't really come with any pre-warnings from the Caseworker themselves, letting anything about each Foster kid be said inside of their personal files that got sent along with them.

But when she gave out this information it was usually important. The last time Bruce had gotten a warning like this it was for Jason which was ages ago it feels at this point.

"What is it?"

"The kids are-" Her voice trailed off, like as if she was still searching for the right words to say. "They've been through what I can honestly only describe as the equivalent to a meta-kid trafficking lab"

Bruce shifted as he heard the driving continue on the other side of the phone.

"They're very guarded because of what they went through and they might display.. unusual behavior. More unusual then a meta-kids behavior after such a situation would be, but don't let it fool you! The kids are really sweet beyond being afraid."

Bruce frowns at the descriptions before replying to her, mentally trying to prepare himself for the idea of these kids and what they might have went through.

"I'll make a note of it then. Thank you, Roni"

"No, thank you, Bruce. I really appreciate this last minute placement. We'll be by really soon"

He was left with a click as he removed himself off his bed and threw the covers to the side of him. Alfred would want to know that they would have 2 new guests in the manor, at the very least to greet them and have rooms prepared even if they didn't need to have them prepared further then what they already were.

It was less then 5 minutes later that Bruce found himself, with Alfred, greeting the temporary fosters at the front door. Roni looked tiredly at them as she pushed the kids front and center.

Bruce could relate heavily.

"Hello Danny, Ellie. It's nice to meet you both, I'm Bruce Wayne."

Danny just stared at the mans outstretched hand for a second before he turned to look up at him, a pinched look on his face. Ellie matched his expression, although being a bit more subtle about it as she looked over Bruce as a whole.

Eerily, Bruce felt like his very soul was being judge the longer the kids stared at him. He also felt a sense of familiarity with these two kids the longer this continued.

They seemed detached rather than afraid like their caseworker had explained earlier, more so viewing the world as if they were outside of it rather then in it in any way.

Danny was quick to glare at him after another moment, "You're a fruit-loop, aren't you?"

Ellie broke from her own scanning almost immediately when she heard Danny's comment, cackling beside him before shoving him off with her arm. The action made Bruce smile as he took his arm back and placed it by his side.

Alfred also looked amused between the pair of siblings before turning attention to the task at hand again. Bruce just smiled at his pseudo-fathers usual fondness over children, knowing he was being reminded of his own grandchildren.

"This is Alfred. He's going to be the one to show you over to your rooms for the next few nights." Alfred greeted the kids in the same polite way he usually greeted all guests before he leaned down and extended his hands towards their belongings. He didn't grab their belongings just remained leaning over them before questioning the kids if they would like help to take their stuff to their rooms.

Bruce only really saw it faintly and if it were any other moment he might have ignored it as a sleepless hallucination, but for some reason he noticed the change immediately. The twins eyes go from a darker blue to a flashing bright green.

As if alarmed by the sudden movement towards their belongings.

Danny was quick to catch his own staring as well, eyes flashing back to blue for only a second before reverting back to green. Almost as if to give off some kind of warning.

Ellie noticed his staring immediately and shoved Danny again, this time more forceful for his attention before turning to whisper something to him when she had him back.

Bruce felt his skin crawl before turning away to face their caseworker, not really understanding anything they were saying beyond hearing a few words and feeling their eyes look between each other and his back.

Death Touched was an especially new description, and one that stuck in his head the second he heard it.

Bruce waited until the kids were guided away by Alfred before talking to their caseworker officially and waking her up from her half delirious tired drop-off.

"Hey Roni? Is there any chance we can extend the Fenton kids stay?"

There was something going on here with these kids and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or another.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 19

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 18 | Series Masterlist | Part 20

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: Your day out with your friends isn't as relaxing as you want it to be.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, drinking, suspected drugging, reference to stalking and violence, your friends are cheering you on, inner turmoil, stubborn reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You wished you could say you breathed easier as the limo pulled away, but you didn’t. You felt Bucky’s piercing eyes on you, watching until you were completely out of sight. He still wasn’t “out of sight, out of mind.” He made sure you’d think about him, and Ray was following in his vehicle. Even glancing quickly at the limo partition you could see that it was cracked. Was the driver one of Bucky’s men?

“Okay, so your new boyfriend is stupidly hot and loaded,” Dana said, her eyes darting around the limo. “You should be proud of yourself. Holy shit.”

“I should be proud of somehow snagging a hot and loaded guy?” you laughed a little. You always told yourself money wasn’t a factor as long as the love was there.

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.”

You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

The girls gasped. “Clothes, books, and a diamond necklace?! Yeah, be proud and fucking flaunt it,” Dana encouraged. She had to be half teasing since she knew that wasn’t your style. “Gina, Addison, back me up here.”

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.”

“Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with.

“Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.”

“Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

You could’ve hugged her. Maybe she saw through some of the charade. If she did, that could also put her in danger if she spoke out.

“Or maybe he just knows what he wants and he’s an all in kind of guy,” Dana commented. She had no idea. “Wait! Have you two had sex?!”

“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” you answered. Just him jerking off over the phone and some heavy petting and jerking off again with you nearby. “But he really wants to sleep with me and I did ride his thigh,” you mumbled.

It was still clear as day in your head, how he encouraged you to get off, his lips against yours. You didn’t want to think about it, but Bucky got his way and invaded your thoughts. It was inevitable.

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

You were trying to wait, but it was only a matter of time before you had to sleep with him. “It’s just…”

“Are you worried that his feelings will fade once you two have sex?” Gina asked.

“I’m not worried about his feelings diminishing,” you said with complete sincerity. His feelings wouldn’t waver, even if his actions screamed love-bombing. “I just… I guess I never pictured myself dating someone who owns a nightclub. He just seems out of my league.”

And he was someone who had very dangerous ties.

“No, we don’t put ourselves down here. Every league is your league, and he should be honored to be your guy.” Dana clapped her hands together. “Ooh! What if we do a big date night at his club? We bring our guys, and we can all hang out?”

Your eyes widened. “I… Maybe,” you replied. It would just be another chance for Bucky to charm them, and it felt like you’d be asking him for a favor by letting your friends in. He’d probably love it.

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

“As fun as it is talking about Bucky, maybe we can talk about something else?” you smiled, nudging Addison. You didn’t want this whole day to be about Bucky and your relationship. “Your big day is getting closer.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled.

You relaxed in the seat when the conversation shifted to the wedding and found yourself smiling and laughing through the rest of the ride. Bucky still lingered in your mind since he’d be at the wedding. The nice part was that since you were in the bridal party, he couldn’t spend the entire day with you.

“We’re here!” Addison smiled as the limo eventually came to a stop.

You were the last to get out and you took a deep breath. The winery was the perfect mix of relaxation, beauty, and good vibes. The lush vineyard stretched across the hills, and you wished for a moment you could run through them and disappear. The sun on your face brought you back to the present and made you smile, and you couldn't wait to sample some wine with the girls. You had a right to enjoy your time.

“You coming?” Dana asked.

“You two go ahead. We’ll be right in,” Addison said, linking her arm with yours and leading you away from the limo. You tensed up only for a moment when you saw Ray’s vehicle in the distance. It didn’t look completely out of place though since there were other cars and people around. “Okay, what’s up? You seem on edge.”

“I do?” you asked. You thought she didn’t notice, and you should’ve known better.

“Yeah. Is it work? Or is it about Bucky?” You tensed up again. “Did you think we wouldn’t like him?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a lot really fast, that’s all,” you said, leaning in to whisper, “I didn’t want to say it in the limo, but he wants me to move in with him.”

She stopped walking. “Whoa. Okay, that is fast, but some couples do move quickly in whirlwind romances, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the ordinary. Brady and I knew right away that we wanted to be together,” she said. What she had with Brady was pure, and you could’ve possibly had that with Bucky in another life. “Maybe Dana’s right that he just knows what he wants and he wants to go all in.”

“He’s very much all in,” you agreed.

“Are you considering moving in with him?”

“Maybe,” you said. Bucky was going to force his hand either way.

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

“And if I do care about him and want to move in?” you asked.

“You know we’ll support whatever you do, but think about it carefully because that’s a big step. And if things go south, you tell us right away so we can help,” she said, giving you a small smile. “He may be your boyfriend, but you’re still my best friend and I was here first. I’ll smack him with a frying pan if he messes up.”

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased.

“Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Ray kept a respectable distance from your table and didn’t make eye contact as he pretended to read while sipping his drink. You were glad for that since your friends didn’t seem to take notice of him as you all ate and sampled various wines. Though you were having a great time, you hardly drank a drop. You wanted to stay on guard in case Bucky decided to crash the outing.

“Oh, we need to take a bottle of this home,” Dana said, pointing at her empty glass. “And where the hell is your cousin?!”

“She bailed.” Addison rolled her eyes. “That's exactly why she’s not in the wedding party. I can’t rely on her.”

“That and she’s a bitch,” Dana said unapologetically while pointing at you. “We know she would’ve said something shitty about you and Bucky, and we don’t need that bad energy.”

You scoffed. Addison’s cousin was the type who always had to one-up someone or try to tear them down so she felt better about herself. You tried to see the best in others, but you were admittedly glad she wasn’t there today. “I’m sure she’ll have something to say at the wedding.”

“If she does say anything, don’t listen to her,” Addison urged. “Or say something back to shut her down.”

“Rub it in her face how hot and rich Bucky is,” Dana grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Her head will explode.”

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?”

The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Dana laughed so hard she wheezed. “You don’t understand. I need you to tell her that just to see the look on her face. Please. I beg of you.”

“And make sure Bucky’s in on the joke, too,” Gina giggled.

Your heart sank. Their safety came first, but the reaction was another reason you didn’t say anything. Who would possibly believe you? He was a rich and powerful man and you were merely a florist. “Maybe I can say something that’s not quite so dark,” you smiled.

Addison stared at you curiously before she shook her head. “You and your sense of humor,” she teased, drinking the rest of her glass. “But if you could shut her up, I’ll be thankful.”

Your phone dinged before you could respond, and you almost spit up the little wine you had when you saw a message from Bucky.

“Call me. Now.”

Direct. No sweet words. Oh, no.

“Is that your loverboy?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact it is and he’s asking for me to call him. Do you mind if…”

“Go. We’ll be right here,” Addison smiled.

Your legs felt a bit rubbery as you walked outside and took a look around to make sure no one was nearby. What if he had a bug in your phone and he heard what you said? Oh, God. You were so stupid.

Pressing his name on your phone, you let out a shaky breath when he immediately picked up. “Kotyonok, I need you to come back,” he replied, his tone stern. Upset.

You swallowed. God, he did hear you. You could convince him it was a joke, right? No one had to get hurt. “Why, what’s wrong?” you asked, your tone remarkably calm. “We aren’t done with our samples.”

“You were followed to Addison’s this morning by one of Zemo’s men. Ray and I both spotted him.” There were muffled noises in the background. “I just finished… talking to him.”

“I was followed?” you whispered, your heart sinking for a completely different reason now. The day you went out with your friends someone followed you? “What did he want?”

“I can explain more later, but he had a ‘look, but don’t touch’ order. I broke his fingers anyway.” You closed your eyes. He sounded proud of himself. “I have some business to attend to for the rest of the day and I have to go to the club after, which is why I need you back at home.”

Ray appearing behind you almost made you drop your phone. “Jesus, Ray,” you gasped, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, briefly resting a hand on your shoulder. “Boss messaged me to bring you home.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to him right now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And I’m not going home right now. I'm not leaving.”

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-”

“Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I painted the very target on your back by falling for you? I’m well aware of that fact, but I’m also the one who can keep you safe.” He sounded almost as vulnerable as he did when he talked about his mom. “So just… come home.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Home. “You know, there are a lot of dangerous people out there who have families and loved ones. And I’m sure some of them are blissfully unaware of what goes on behind the scenes, but not all of them are. Some are very well aware of what their partners do for a living because they were told what they were getting into.”

“Kotyonok-”

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

“I do love you,” he breathed. It would be nice to believe that. “Come home, please, and we’ll talk when I get back from the club.”

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

One step forward, two steps back.

“I’ll just be happy that you’re safe,” he said, which only infuriated you more. You couldn’t make out what he ordered to someone else, but the muffled noises picked up again. “Leave in thirty minutes. The driver will drop your friends off and he’ll take you to the apartment. Ray will take you home from there.”

“Two hours,” you stated just to be stubborn.

“One hour,” he countered. “Or I’ll drive there myself.”

You huffed, but didn’t want to test him. “Fine. I’ll leave in one hour.” The girls would understand if you made some excuse.

“Thank you,” he exhaled. He really did sound relieved. “I love you. I’ll see you later this evening.”

You waited a beat. “Think about what I said.” Ray waited patiently as you hung up. “Have I told you that your boss is a pain in the ass?”

“He certainly is, but he is correct that your safety is important,” he agreed, gently stopping you before you went back inside. “If you aren’t in the limo in one hour, he will come after you.”

“I know,” you sighed. Bucky would be dramatic like that. And protective. “Someone was really following me?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky had no reason to lie unless he was trying to get you away from your friends.

Ray nodded solemnly. “It could’ve been to report your movements back to Zemo, but I’d have to ask the boss for more details since I didn’t get to interrogate him myself.”

“I do appreciate you both spotting him,” you complimented, even if Bucky violently handled it. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Of course.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your brows pinched. “About what?”

“Your strength. You handled that well all things considered,” he answered.

“You’re only saying that because you can’t read my mind,” you said. It was a mess. But you hadn’t broken down or cried, so that was a plus.

For a moment you thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded to the building. “Better go join your friends before they miss you.”

“Thanks, Ray,” you whispered, putting a smile back on your face as you walked back inside and headed back to the table.

Addison held up two fingers. “You missed two more rounds of samples.”

“I guess I'll have to catch up,” you teased. “And would anyone object to leaving in an hour? Bucky’s planning a romantic evening for the two of us, and I need to stop by my apartment before I head over to his place,” you said. It was partially true. “If you all want to stay, I’ll get an uber and you can take the limo.”

“An hour’s fine.” Dana blinked a few times. “Anyone else tired? I’m a little tired.”

Gina covered her mouth when she yawned. “Yeah, I am, too.”

“I feel fine,” you said, frowning when Addison yawned, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but a nap sounds good right about now,” she said, pushing her now empty glass away and checking the time. “It is kind of late. It’ll be night time when we get back.”

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Is everyone okay?” you asked. It felt like too much of a coincidence that they all felt tired after you came back to the table. “Should we just leave right now?”

“I’m fine. I was just up really late last night,” Addison answered. Dana and Gina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should cut back on the samples and stick with water,” you suggested.

“You’ve always been the sensible one,” Dana said, resting her chin in her hand. “But can we still buy some bottles?”

“Yeah. As many as we want,” you promised. Bucky did say he’d spoil you, so why not?

Exactly one hour later, you were back in the limo with the girls and plenty of bottles. Unlike the ride over, the ride back was much quieter. You thought Addison would fall asleep on your shoulder at one point and Dana actually did fall asleep at one point for a few minutes. They somehow didn’t stumble on the way to the limo, and it would’ve impressed you if you weren’t so worried.

“Are you sure you girls are okay? Should we go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Why would we do that? We drank more at my bachelorette party than we did today. We’re fine,” Addison assured you. “You worry too much.”

You had good reason to worry. “This sounds crazy, but did you drug my friends? I need to know if I should take them to the hospital.” you messaged Bucky. If he did something to them…

He typed something back right away. “How could I possibly drug your friends when I wasn’t there? Is everyone okay?”

Did he actually care? “I’m fine, but they’re very drowsy and I’m worried.”

“Ray kept me updated and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. None of Zemo’s men were there. I didn't do anything either. Did any of them complain that they were dizzy? Nauseous? Did anyone pass out?”

“No, but it could've been something like Benadryl to make them drowsy and get me to possibly leave faster.” Or punish you by mentioning the stalking thing, if he knew, and show you that his reach expanded beyond the city.

“That’s a very creative method to get you to leave, but lots of wine can make anyone drowsy and I have no reason to do that to your friends. I think our conversation may have scared you a bit since Zemo had someone watching you and you’re understandably worried for your friends.”

You looked around at your friends. They did drink a lot more wine than you, and drugging people didn’t seem to be Bucky’s style. Zemo’s men weren’t there. Maybe you were being paranoid and the girls really were just tired. Being part of Bucky’s circle just made you question everything.

“Okay. I’m trusting you.” You had to.

“Thank you. Your worry aside, it sounds like you girls had fun though from what I heard. Maybe the next day out can be at my club. Could be fun.”

You gasped. Did he know what Dana suggested? No, no, no. You weren’t falling down that rabbit hole, and didn’t send any texts back for the rest of the drive.

Brady and the other guys were waiting on the curb when the limo stopped at Addison’s. You were the only one who didn’t get out, but you gave each of them hugs and helped hand out the wine to their significant others. They seemed a bit more awake, so maybe they were just fine. “Love you girls. And, guys, keep an eye on them. They had quite a few samples,” you said. You’d have to text each of them later to check on them.

“Love you,” the girls echoed before the door shut.

The driver headed in the direction of your place after a minute. What were you going to say to Bucky when you saw him? Would you scream at him for putting you in danger, or would you just accept that this was your life? It was a continuous losing battle the more you fought.

The morning you had with Bucky, minus the groping, had been somewhat nice. Could it be like that all the time if you tried? Could it be better if he loosened the reins?

“Thank you,” you said when the limo stopped and the partition rolled down a few inches. “How much do I owe you?”

“Mr. Barnes took care of that, miss, but if you’ll allow me-”

“Oh, no. Please don’t get out. I got it,” you smiled, letting yourself out. You scanned the street for Ray’s car, but didn’t see it. He was likely waiting for the limo to pull away.

Two steps into your building, your phone dinged. “What now?” you muttered when you opened a text from Bucky.

“Ray got a flat tire. Stay in the limo.”

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

You couldn’t breathe when you found a pair of blue eyes staring at you. “Clark… what are you doing here?”

Oh, I hope you lovelies are prepared for the next part. And what do we think of your friends? And were they just drowsy or did something happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[paulyenvol6]

Fine Line

This is a smutty one shot with Joel Miller x reader and it's based on this request. Very angsty and lots of dom!Joel with daddy vibes and subby reader. I had so much fun writing this so thank you so much for the amazing request and feel free to send me whatever you want me to write. Enjoy <3

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, edging, orgasm denial, mentions of safe word, dubcon, daddy kink, dom and mean Joel, sub!reader, degrading, mentions of words like whore/bitch/slut, angst, anxiety, panic, fainting, having sex although the other person wants to stop, crying, aftercare, soft Joel in the end

Wordcount: ~6.41k

Masterlist

Joel was horny tonight.

You could see it in the way his lips were always slightly parted and his chest rose and fell more heavily than usual.

And he was simply more responsive to your arm that would brush against his side every now again or your hand against his chest. He had been like that the whole evening and now as you lay in his arms on the couch you couldn't help but think about the way you could take advantage of the situation.

When Joel was craving sex with you he was more willing to do you a favor just because he needed you so much that he didn't have the patience to think about what you were asking of him. And maybe, just maybe tonight could be one of those nights where you would be able to get exactly what you were yearning for.

It was clear to you that Joel was intiating sex when he wrapped an arm around your waist to press you to his center while covering your neck with sloppy kisses. He gently removed your hair to softly bite and mark your neck until you felt brave enough to come forward with your request.

"Joel?" you asked softly and he hummed against your skin. "Mhm?"

"I want you to be mean to me. Please."

It wasn't like the two of you were vanilla when it came to sex. You had tried a lot of different things that could be called kinky but Joel tended to be a little more careful with certain things than you were.

Your suspicion was that the reason for that was your age gap. You were in your early twenties after all and although he should really know how much you adored being with him and that you would never want to treat this life with him for a life with a younger man your age, you believed that he didn't love it because he didn't want to emphasize or increase the power imbalance between the two of you. Which you, quite frankly, hated.

Because he was so good at it that when you got your favourite freaky Joel you longed for him days after and begged him to be rough with you at any time of the day. Sometimes Joel played along to make you happy because that was what he was after at the end of the day but you always had a feeling that he felt bad after degrading you.

But now he chuckled and his hand became more firm on your stomach to hold you close to him.

"Ya want me to be mean? But you were such a good little kitten today, ain't that right?"

You gave him your biggest puppy eyes while turning in his lap so you could look at him.

"Please daddy. I want you to. I was good, yes, so please do me the favor."

Joel sighed and took your face in his hands. You loved when he did that, because his hands were so big that it felt like he was covering the whole side of your face.

"You want me to be mean to my favourite little pussy? That's gonna make me feel very bad, honey."

You were growing impatient now because you didn't know if Joel was simply teasing you or actually still considering treating you roughly tonight so you shifted in his lap rocking yourself against his crotch in order to get him hard.

"Ugh uh, babygirl," he growled at once and stopped you by placing his hands on your hips.

"If you want me to be hard on you, you're only gonna do what I tell you to do. That's your only task."

You had to surpress a proud smile because you finally had evoked the kind of Joel you needed right now. He was mocking you, treating you like you needed guidance with everything and would surely punish you if need be.

"I will. Please be hard on me, daddy, I need it."

He smirked and softly pulled at you bottom lip with his thumb.

"God…, will you look at that," he said with a husky voice and observed the way you lip snapped back.

"Such a silly girl. Beggin' me to treat you like shit when you usually ask for your sweet 'n nice daddy almost all the time."

He cupped your chin with his hand in order to observe you precisely and bit his lip at your sight.

"You want me to be mean? Then I'm gonna be really mean, baby. Gonna treat you like shit. S'this what ya want?"

Yes, that was what you wanted and you could already feel your pussy dripping at his words. Too stunned to speak you nodded determinedly but it wasn't enough for Joel.

"Words," he demanded and tapped against your bottom lip.

"I want it. Want you to be really mean."

He smirked and carefully, almost as if you were something fragile tilted your head in his hands. Then, within seconds he had grabbed your waist and moved the two of you over so you were on your back while he hovered over you. You let out a giggle which he instantly surpressed by pressing his lips on yours until you were left breathless.

"Joel," you murmured against his mouth and wrapped your arms around him.

You wanted to test him, provoke him to the point where he would snap and put you in your place. Perhaps he was aware of your strategy but he still played along.

"Hands to yourself," he whispered and pinned your wrists down over your head with one hand.

"Joel," you whispered again but now he seemed to have officially taken on his role because his eyes remained cold and indifferent.

"Do you have something to say? Otherwise you're gonna shut up unless I tell you to speak."

With a bubbly feeling in your belly you shook your head and waited for what he would do next. He watched you for a while like he was a predator taking in the view of his helpless victim in front of him and you almost started to feel so impatient that you wondered if you should ask him to go on when he finally moved his hands to your waist in order to tug at the fabric and pull it up.

He revealed your belly, thumb drawing circles over your skin and exposed your abdomen until the underside of your chest was bare under his gaze.

"Not wearin' a fuckin' bra? Jesus Christ…," he growled and you clenched your thighs at his husky voice.

"Please," you moaned already feeling so tense and full of accumulated pleasure that you needed him to finally touch you now.

"And she's already begging me like a pathetic bitch," Joel's sharp voice cut through the air leaving you big-eyed.

"I just know that if I didn't take such care of you you'd whore your way around the city spreadin' those pretty legs for every breathing creature. 'Cause you're a needy slut that can't ever get enough."

He squeezed your breast at his words which forced you to let out a gasp. For a moment you had to remind yourself that Joel didn't actually think that way about you but he was playing this role for you. He was just so good at it that you feared he would make you feel so little that you would start to believe his evil words.

Both his hands were now busy with kneading your breasts so roughly that the throbbing between your legs became more intense the longer he proceeded. You pressed your thighs together, a pathetic attempt to get rid of it but it didn't really work so you shifted your hips to search for his knee between your legs.

When Joel realized what you were doing he harshly opened your legs with his knee leaving you feel even more uncomfortable. His hand enclosed around your nipple which got him your attention and you submissively looked up to him.

"Stupid girl. Pissin' me off after begging me to be rough with you. You're gonna take all of it now, babygirl and I swear to god I'll ignore your crying or beggin' or complainin' 'n you can moan my name as often as you like, I'll keep going until I'm satisfied."

As much as you were looking forward to this promise you couldn't help but feel a little reluctant as well because you were familiar with his ways of torturing and teasing you and the prospect of spending the night pleading and begging him to finally give you what you wanted wasn't exactly comfortable. But you had asked for this after all. You loved it when he was mean to you and you knew it would be worth it.

A shiver rippled down your spine as you felt him twist your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger while he simultaneously kneaded your other breast. It was a fine line between pleasure and pain that he overstepped every now and which would then leave you breathless and with tears in your eyes when he pulled a little too hard on your nipple. Then you placed your hand on his but Joel merely snorted furiously and pushed you away.

"I said you're gonna take it. Without fuckin' annoyin' me. Stick those fingers into your mouth if you can't keep 'em to yourself."

You wavered, unsure whether this was a command or not but eventually you coiled your hands into fists and pressed them to your side while letting Joel use you the way he wanted. He really took his time tonight, exploring and stroking every inch of your body he could reach and when he finally removed his hands you expected him to unbuckle his belt but to your surprise he didn't. Instead he first pulled your shirt over your head so your upper body was finally completely bare and then his fingers came down to your jeans to open them.

"Joel," you whispered and licked away the sweat that had gathered above your top lip.

"Shut up and do as I say," he muttered fretfully while pulling the fabric down. "S'all I'm fuckin' asking of you, okay? Can you just obey me for once in your life?"

You nodded slowly your eyes brimming with a new wetness that hadn't been there before. No, no, no, you couldn't allow yourself to take his rough words to heart. This wasn't Joel, this was the kind of Joel you had wanted. You liked it and you wanted to get degraded by him because of the way it made you feel. You had been looking forward to this so much and you would stay focused. Joel didn't mean it and afterwards he would hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He was just playing. Acting.

You snapped back when he had taken your jeans off and watched your quaking hands with a mixture of arrogance and enjoyment.

"Open your mouth," he demanded while gripping your chin. Once you showed him your flat tongue he spitted into your mouth examining how his spit landed on your tongue and then tapped against your bottom lip.

"Swallow."

You did and opened your mouth for him again.

"Good girl." It was all he said but it made your heart flutter.

Then he made his way down your body, kissing and licking over your sore nipples and you recoiled every time his teeth sunk into your flesh.

"Please, Joel," you moaned at some point because you craved him so much that you felt like melting with him but he gave you an evil smile and lightly slapped the side of your ass.

"No. S'not about what you want. I'll take from you what I want and the more you beg me to do something the less likely it is that I'll do it."

Before you could even think about an answer you suddenly heard a ripping sound and then the cold air hit your bare pussy.

"Joel!" you complained staring at your torn underwear but he ignored you as he only had eyes for what waited between your legs for him. He didn't hesitate for a second now but just forcefully opened your thighs and then immediately slid a finger through your glistening folds. Then he collected some of your arousal and mockingly observed it.

"What's that, mhm? Was just playing with your tits a little and you're fuckin' soaked."

He chuckled darkly and brought his finger to your mouth. "Open. Clean it."

You had done similar things a hundres times before so you quickly confiled with the order and twirled your tongue around his digit as if it was his cock. Joel hummed with closed eyes and when you were done he pushed you down while crawling down again.

Every remaining amount of strength wilted when you saw the way he looked at your pussy and you were glad you got to lay on the couch. He then opened you up wider and moved your legs to rest on his shoulders. You couldn't allow yourself to feel the anticipation just yet because he was too mean to do this solely for your pleasure. You feared that he would change his mind in the last second so you anxiously watched his every move and almost choked on your breath when you felt his thumb brushing over your clit.

"S'right. Let it out I wanna hear it all," he hummed contently while rubbing you in small circles.

You couldn't believe he was actually doing this after having talked you down like this but your mind was too clouded anyway to question his actions.

His hands lingered at your core a little longer until he moved them up to your hips while lowering his head down to your pussy. He inhaled deeply taking in your scent and then connected his tongue with your clit which made you whine out almost painfully.

If there was one thing you could never get enough of in your life, it was him eating your pussy. It was simply… perfect. His beard grazing over your skin, his soft and warm tongue on your clit and the way he lapped up your wetness as if he was a man starving.

"Fuck, Joel, fuck…," you moaned your toes curling at the insane feelings he evoked in you.

His tongue drew patterns over your clit and you were almost sure that they were letters but you were too caught up in pleasure to concentrate on it.

And you were definitely too exhausted to work out why he was giving you so much pleasure after you had begged him to be mean. Because you definitely didn't mind and didn't want to do anything that could make him stop.

Joel now brushed over the underside of your clit with his pointed tongue and you shuddered beneath him your hands gripping his muscular arms. And when he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of you you couldn't help but grind against him. The moment he noticed he stopped licking you and raised his head.

"No," he spoke his face expressionless and buried his hand into the flesh of your ass. "One more time and I'll stop."

Joel dived between your thighs again while his left hand splayed across your stomach to apply light pressure that added to the pleasure you received from his mouth and his finger inside of you. Your fingers were buried in the cushions now too scared to touch him and perhaps anger him further but when he sucked your clit into his mouth a cry left your mouth and you pressed your nails into your own thighs in order to handle the intensity of his touch.

"Please. Fuck, Joel, it's so fucking good," you whimpered and wished he would answer you the way he usually did.

It was like he wasn't even present, he just ate your pussy like his life depended on it while ignoring you utterly. You couldn't even swear that he enjoyed it.

"Joel," you whispered again hoping that he might answer you but he didn't even look at you.

He just scissored you open while toying with your swollen clit but when you felt yourself getting closer to coming his eyes finally found your face again. He inspected you for a moment and then suddenly stopped. Your legs immediately searched for his body trying to trap him between them while your mind panicked.

"N-No, no, Joel, what are you doing. I was just about to come!"

"I know babygirl," he whispered running a hand over your sweaty hair while watching you almost lovingly.

"Please, I wanna come, I – "

"I know you do, sugar. But I don't care."

He rolled your nipple between his fingers again while you still tried to fight the confusion in your head. "Please, I –"

Your voice broke and your trembling hands gripped the fabric of his shirt.

"Save your breath, darlin'," he whispered against your ear before sliding a hand down between your legs.

With a clear plan in mind Joel started to rub your aching clit again only that this time he seemed even more determined. He went clockwise just the way you liked it and used your wetness as lubrication. You sniffed twice unsure of whether this was a good or a bad thing but soon you were so overtaken by enjoyment again that all you could perceive was his body and the hand on your pussy.

Your hand held his shirt while your face was buried in his neck and he let it happen. His heart was beating fast and you enjoyed the closeness so much that for a second you forgot about your frustration. That was until he denied your orgasm the second time tonight and this time you pushed him away in order to escape his touch.

"You asshole," you cried and tried to kick him with your feet.

Quickly he advanced towards you captured your wrists in his hand and yanked your head back by your hair.

"You were the one begging me like a fuckin' whore to be rough with you. You don't like what I'm doing? Mhm?" he mocked you while moving you to lay on your back again. You shook your head biting down on your shaking lip.

"Well I don't care 'cause you asked me to be mean. If you don't like it don't ask me next time. But now don't you fuckin' dare complain again."

You were still busy flashing your eyes at him which was why you let out a loud gasp when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and then he was suddenly inside of you. You hadn't noticed him unbuckling his belt and neither had you realized how he had pulled down his jeans and boxers.

You were dripping with arousal so you had no problems taking him and yet it had come so surprisingly that you tightly clenched around him which provoked a loud growl from him.

"Jesus…. So goddamn tight."

His left hand came down to cradle the side of your face while his right bent your leg back in order to reach deeper inside of you with each thrust. He hadn't given you a lot of time to adjust and just pounded your pussy mercilessly like there was no tomorrow.

"That's right," he mumbled his eyes on your face while you had problems keeping yours open.

"Atta girl. Nice 'n open for daddy…"

But when you buckled your hips in order to move accordingly to his thrusts his eyes darkened and he squeezed your throat as a punishment.

"I said none of that," he hissed emphasizing every word as if you were a little child that couldn't comprehend the simplest instructions.

"Stay fuckin' still or you're gonna get that l'il ass of you fucked. Would you like that? Huh?"

You shook your head and made a mental note to really do as he had told you now because you suddenly didn't feel like infuriating him any more.

Perhaps you had overestimated yourself a little or hadn't actually been ready to take all of him in this kind of state because all you suddenly craved was your loving Joel. The one who would press his face into your neck now to smell your hair. The one who would trace your collarbone with his finger or kiss your nipples. The one who would tell you how much he loved you and that he would never leave his babygirl.

"Joel," you moaned as if you were able to make him change his mind just by saying his name.

Of course he ignored you and unrestrainedly fucked your hole while panting loudly. Suddenly you were hyper-aware of so many things that you hadn't even noticed earlier. The way you were completely naked underneath him while he was still fully dressed except for his pulled-down jeans. It made you feel so vulnerable and pathetic suddenly that tears welled in your eyes.

And the way he pressed down on your tummy not only to make you stay in place but to show him how deep he reached inside of you. You felt used. Dirty. What you needed right now was to get some distance between him and you but there was no way Joel would let you off this easily.

"Joel," you cried looking up to him while tugging at his shirt but he had his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

In addition to your mental discomfort his cock thrusting in you had started to hurt as well which was due to the way you tightened around him. But while Joel thought the reason was that you were close, in truth your body rejected the intrusion and therefore he bruised your insides every time he hit your cervix while he felt like his cock was being torn off by your clenched walls.

"Mhmm, yes, sweet girl. Takin' me so fuckin' well. You're gonna make daddy come like this. Is that what you want?"

Once he had spoken these last words he suddenly pulled out which came so unexpectant that you widened your eyes and he then manhandled you on your stomach. Before you could understand what had happened Joel had adjusted you on your knees and pushed back inside of you taking you from behind.

You let out a cry that was muffled by the cushion your head rested against and as much as you hated to even just have this thought, you wished that he would finally stop. You couldn't uphold your facade any longer, your pussy burned, your head felt dizzy and you didn't want him to touch and treat you like this any longer.

Fuck your pride, you would ask him to stop even if it meant that he would never be rough with you again. Even if it meant that he would beat himself up afterwards thinking that he had hurt you. You would explain it to him. He hadn't done anything wrong, you just hadn't been strong enough to handle it tonight.

"J-Joel," you said a little louder your voice shaking so much that he raised his eyebrows.

"What," he hissed dangerously.

You whimpered every time his hips snapped forward pushing you deeper into the couch which made it difficult to speak but eventually you managed to press out what you wanted to say.

"P-Please, s-stop," you whined and at first you weren't certain if he had heard you. But then you felt a hand snatching your waist and he pulled up your weak body so your back was pressed to his chest. His big hand kneaded your breast while your nails scratched over his arm gesturing him that this was serious.

"I told you, babygirl. I said I wouldn't stop no matter how much you'll cry. And I won't. It hurts, doesn't it?"

A sob went past your lips and you could only nod.

"Mhmm too bad. It's supposed to hurt you, babygirl. 'Cause we ain't doin' this for you right now. We're doin' this for daddy 'n you're gonna give your body to daddy so he's gonna feel real good while you look pretty for him, mhm? How does that sound?"

He watched the side of your face while holding you tightly by wrapping his arms around your stomach and breasts, sensing how weak you were on your knees.

"I wanna hear your fuckin' voice," he breathed and spanked your left breast.

"Y-Yes," you cried, nothing but jelly in his arms and dropped your head to your chest.

"Good," he murmured through grinded teeth and kissed the back of your head. Before you were able to form another word of resistance in your head he had moved his hand to your throat to squeeze it lightly cutting off your air supply which turned out to be even worse for you physical state.

"Already fucked your brains out, huh?" he commented your mindless condition while gliding his hand between your legs to find your clit. You almost didn't notice it though, feeling numb and disconnected to your body, yet strangely being super aware of the way he hurt you with each thrust.

When you let out a croaked cry he perhaps realized that you really were in need of fresh air so he dropped you like he had suddenly changed his mind about you and you fell on your stomach again. At this point you were too powerless to even hold yourself up on your knees and luckily Joel allowed you to lay on your front.

Panic flooded your system again because you were sure you wouldn't be able to keep this up until he would come. You couldn't properly breathe and you really needed some water and a moment of peace to collect yourself. Your limbs were hurting, your tummy was aching and your mental discomfort only added to everything.

You loved Joel with all your heart and would never want anything about your relationship to change but right now he made you feel like you were being violated. Like you couldn't make him stop even if you wanted him to. Like you were his victim rather than his girlfriend.

There was only one thing left you could try. Your safe word.

You just had to bring the word out and make him hear you and then he would see the seriousness of the situation, hug you and comfort you.

You opened your mouth but no sound besides your whimpers left it and you squeezed your hands in fists forcing yourself to move your tongue.

"Rrr," you made and cursed yourself for not being able to form a word that was as easy to pronounce as 'red'. You clung to the couch as if it would clear your head and tried again.

"R-Red…," you said but weren't sure if it was actually comprehendable.

"J-Joel," you sobbed because why wouldn't he stop? You had said it, you had said the word you had hoped would never leave your mouth when Joel and you had thought of a safe word.

"R-Red," you whispered again as if it was a mantra but his pounding didn't stop. He fucked your pussy chasing his release with so much focus that he seemingly didn't hear your mumbling. You had to get the cushion out of the way in order to sound clearer but he pressed your face into the pillow and so your mobility was strongly limited.

You writhed under his grip so frustrated and devasteted now that you thought about giving up and just waiting until he had finished. And yet you repeated the safe word over and over again although you were not sure if you actually said it out loud every time or if it just happened in your head.

And then you passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joel actually hadn't noticed any of your discomfort.

Of course he had noticed how submissive and weak you were and as much as he wished he could soothe you a little, he had promised you to be rough with you and that was what he intended to do now.

So no caressing your bare shoulder or taking your hand and instead fucking you at a punishing pace.

After he had dropped you down on your stomach again his hands dug into your hips keeping your in place for him while he bit his bottom lip at the sight of you. Your tousled hair and your pretty back that was so beautifully bent were mesmerizing and he couldn't help himself and took a handful of your hair to push your face into the cushion.

He heard you mumble something every now and then but he was truthfully too concentrated and distracted by your perfect cunt that hugged him so perfectly that he didn't pay any attention to it. He used your pussy for his enjoyment, felt how your walls fluttered around him, watched your sexy figure splayed out for him until he was eventually sent over the edge and came with a loud growl.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he moaned feeling his cum leaving his tip and filling you to the brim.

"That's a good girl," he whispered out of breath and pushed inside of you a few more times until he was sure his cum would stay inside of you.

He sighed loudly, pulled out of you and then slowly felt his mind getting to work again. He knelt down on the couch next to you and lowered himself to your head. With a lot more gentleness in his touch now he stroked your hair to the side to kiss the side of your face.

"Honey," he whispered and when he saw your closed eyes he frowned. "Baby?"

When he didn't get a reaction his blood started to pump and he saw red. New drops of sweat started to form on his forehead and his hands began to tremble. He was too full of panic now to have a straight thought and quickly pulled up your lifeless body and turned you on your back.

"Y/n, honey, come back to me," he stammered and held your face in his hands. 'What had he done??' Joel cursed to himself and ran his thumb over the area under your eyes. He stared at you, watched you with a cold numbness inside until he heard a moan.

"Y/n?" he asked his voice barely more than a breath and saw your lips move. Infinite happiness and luck washed over him that made him tear up as you blinked with your eyes a few times. Joel enclosed your hand with his and covered it with kisses while observing you with relief.

"How are you, baby?" he whispered and your pupils finally found his face.

"W-What happened?" you asked too weak to sit up straight.

"I-I think you fainted, honey. I-I… I'm so fuckin' sorry, baby, I…. I'm sorry, I was so stupid 'n I didn't notice that you were feelin' unwell, fuck, baby, I…"

He pressed your hand to his forehead and shook his head over and over again while you tried to remember what had happened.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry? Do you need anything?" Joel asked while watching you worriedly.

"Water," was all you managed to say with your weak voice and he immediately jumped to his feet to fetch you a glas of water. He assisted you and helped your shaky hands to bring the glas to your lip and then you emptied it with one sip. Then he put it on the couch table and caressed your cheek with his big thumb.

"Y/n," he rasped. "Please talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

You glanced at him still feeling shocked about the fact that you had actually fainted during sex but answered Joel.

"I can't remember everything. But I-I know that I was in pain."

His eyes had never looked sadder and a part of you instantly regretted telling him.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I can't believe that-that this happened."

His arms reached down to wrap around your shoulders and he pulled you into a careful hug almost as if he was scared he would break you. He gently pressed your head to his chest and you felt so wonderfully embraced by him that you closed your eyes getting fully lost in his strong arms and the warmth of his body. The hug filled you with fresh energy and when he helped you lay down again you felt strong enough to talk about more details of what had just happened.

"I think everything was too much. I know I said that I wanted you to be mean and I did, I really did earlier b-but… but I think it became too much and I felt so odd and-and used and I don't know, I… I didn't want it anymore and then my body reacted differently and it hurt."

He didn't answer you but you could see his eyes' reaction to every single one of your words. And you knew what was going on behind his forehead at the moment. He was beating himself up, punishing himself with his thoughts and telling himself that he was too bad of a human being to be with you. This time it was you who took his hand and you pulled it to your chest.

"I don't want you to be mad at yourself, Joel. Really. This isn't your fault and you have to believe me."

He swiftly freed his hand and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Don't you comfort me now, y/n. We're not gonna play this game."

Joel watched you for a moment like he was thinking and then searched the room.

"I'll bring you your clothes. You must be cold."

He didn't even wait for an answer and picked up your underwear, shirt and jeans and put every item on you with so much gentleness that tears gathered in the corner of your eyes again. When he was done he sat with his back against the backrest of the couch and pulled you in his lap his hand cradling the back of your head.

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am. I swear to god, I wish I could go back in time and just hit myself 'cause I was so fuckin' stupid not noticing how you were feeling 'n I'm really really sorry."

He spoke so quietly because these words were only meant for you and you unconsciously closed your eyes at the tenderness and intimacy of his voice.

"I know," you replied and held on to his broad shoulder, anything to feel more of him. "And I know you don't wanna hear it, but it's okay. I'm fine."

You felt him caressing your back and then he turned your a little so he could look at your face.

"Did you remember our safe word? You know that I'm always gonna stop when you say red."

He sounded so concerned that your heart already broke at what you had to tell him next but you wouldn't lie to him and so you watched him with eyes round as coins.

"I-I… I did. I said it but it was too quiet and you didn't hear."

His head dropped and you heard him inhale deeply.

"Fuck…," was all he whispered and you felt the urge to hold him firmly and tell him that you forgave him but it wasn't what he wanted right now and so you just enjoyed the closeness of his body while listening to his heavy panting. He needed a few minutes to collect himself but once he had he pressed yet another kiss to your brow.

"I'm sorry," he pressed clearly close to tears and you nodded. And you meant it. You weren't angry at him because it had been you who had asked him to treat you this way. And yes, he should've stopped once he had heard the safe word out of your mouth but he hadn't and so there was nothing you could blame him for. This whole mess had been painful and you definitely didn't want to go through something similar again but neither of you was responsible for it.

"I love you, Joel," you whispered hoping that it would perhaps calm him a little but he shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't say that, right now…"

"But I do. I love you so much and I'm not angry at you. You didn't hear me, how were you supposed to know that something was wrong?"

Joel shook his head again and chewed on his bottom lip.

"I should've paid attention to you more. And listen to you more closely, why do we have a safe word if I don't fucking listen to you?"

He threw his head back and bit his lower lip which looked so painful that you feared it would start to bleed soon.

"Joel. It happened and it's not ideal but I'm okay. Next time if something like this ever happens again you'll listen more carefully and then everything will be fine. We'll learn from it."

"I'll learn from it," he corrected and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay. But please don't beat yourself up now. As I said, I don't blame you and this was just a huge miscommunication."

He looked like he was thinking and put his thumb to his lower lip.

"Baby…," he breathed watching you with so much love in his eyes that you couldn't hide a little smile and Joel tightened his arms around you.

"I love you so much. It's just… You know I just hate to know that I hurt you. You deserve so much better, honey, I –" You quickly interrupted him by pressing your finger against his lips which made him stop  talking.

"Don't finish that sentence, Joel. How many times do you want me to say it? I want you. And I'm gonna want you for the rest of my life and this stupid thing doesn't change anything about this fact. Kiss me now."

He sighed and tilted his head but you needed him now and so you determindely grabbed the side of his face.

"Kiss me Joel. Please."

Of course he wouldn't make you beg for a kiss and so he leaned towards you and locked your lips. You smiled against his mouth your hands holding on to his shoulders and when he pulled back your cheeks were flushed.

"I love you."

He sighed and looked down.

"I love you, Joel," you repeated strictly and now a small chuckle left his mouth.

"I love you too, y/n. More than you can ever know."

You smiled brightly and rested with your back against his upper body.

"Then I guess everything will be fine."

[berylian]

Image 1: #also with the flag dancers: raised gloved fist (black power) specifically while in a flag formation on those steps. 1968 olympics #tommie smith and john carlos #black men at the top of their game using their podium to speak out #what else would that sentence apply to? this performance perhaps?

Image 2: #not even going into sam playing an uncle character in django #like so much to look into the flag divided #etc

Image 3: #SUPERB #spectacularly said #thank you for taking the time to write this and sharing #one gripe I have with tumblr is that whenever anything Black culture enters the mainstream conversation. white people get real loud #as in their reactions and opinions and analyses take center stage. which is extra ironic in this particular instance because #imo kendrick has always been for US. but especially now. especially with this performance. #and we just have to accept the fact that because kendrick is huge and mainstream his audience is going to include a lot of white people #which isn't a problem in and of itself at all!! come and enjoy the artistry!! learn something!! #it's just sometimes it feels like they take up space in such a way that pushes Black people out. see: tumblr #the beef with drake has gone beyond the culture lol. it's largely why there's so much attention on kendrick now and #as a performer he is beholden to that to an extent. of course it's important to the culture and it's important to him. #and Im really just talking about how I feel at this point but to me -especially with "their favorite song" - it does feel like... #fulfilling a quota. here's your entertainment. here's what you came for. and of course it's mostly what people are focusing on #when there was so much more to his performance. as shown in this brilliant post #so anyway all that is to say shut up and listen to black people #kendrick lamar

Image 4: ♡♡ #also!! idk if you saw them bc you mentioned that your stream wasn't showing them but there was a phrases theoughout lit up in the stands #....none of which i can remember right now (^~^) >" but yeah!!! #idk maybe this is a reductive take #but the "tin (grey) and brown now they 100 and blue" could be a reference to Confederate soldiers to now cops (boys in blue) #and their shared/transitional position of forcing black men into positions of servitude/chain gangs/prisons etc. #(for context "transitional" bc prisons +jim crow laws was just slavery 2. look at the creation of US vagrancy laws) #but idk what the brown or 100 could be referencing so like i said. might be a stupid take.

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[aurorasgate]

homecoming tears caleb x reader

my little take on calebs return because i'm too much of a baby to not have cried a lot more over it. hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, no pronouns used for reader

there’s a ringing in your ears, loud and as unsteady as the heart beating inside your chest like a drum. both of which are somewhere between too uncomfortable to be a dream and the start of a nightmare in the making. if you could think straight, calm down only a little bit, you’d have the thought to pinch yourself to wake you or tell you how real this all is. that it isn’t just your mind playing tricks on you and caleb really is right in front of you, alive and well and not going to disappear when - if - you wake up.

it continues as you go through the motions of gathering your things from the fleets barracks and follow him to his car where he helps you inside with a kind and familiar smile, one you know is meant to help calm you, until the sound makes your head ache and you reach out for calebs hand on the center console that separates you, hoping that feeling him will help ground you. it does and doesn’t. because yes, you know the warmth seeping into your palm from his soft skin, it’s your caleb who looks back at you with violet eyes that were engraved into your very soul many years ago, but for so long you’ve known you would never seen them again, never feel him again, and find it hard to quell the mix of shock that those things aren’t true any longer and the grief of losing him that has held you tightly in it’s claws since the explosion. 

his mouth moves but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. it’s not until you feel his hand envelop yours and at the sound of your name from his lips that the ringing finally starts to lessen and his voice breaks through. “just hold on a little longer okay? we’re almost home.”

home. you haven’t had a home you two shared together in so long. no place to return to where there would be reminders he had been there too, that he would be coming back. you’d thought you never would again.

your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and makes it hard to reply so you don’t say a word and instead take the sliver of reprieve he had given you from your head and heart ache to try to make sense of any of this, to tell yourself this isn’t a dream or a mirage and that from now on, each day you wake up, he’ll still be here with you. 

caleb survived. this whole time he’s been alive while you mourned at his grave to a point where you thought the pain of it might swallow you whole and that regret had become a permanent part of you knowing you would never get the chance to tell him how you really feel for him, to do all the things you hadn’t let yourself before. there’s so many questions sitting at the back of your throat and the bottom of your heart, so many things you don’t know how to begin to process; a clash of undeniable happiness, the healing of wounds and the way they start to bleed again until the point of pain and confusion.

your motions are little more than robotic as you get out of the car and walk behind him into the place he had called home but couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you. when you see how dark it is, barren of things you’d have thought he’d still own, you wonder how unfamiliar it might be to him too. 

standing only a few feet from the door that had closed automatically behind you, you hold your bag of things close to your chest while caleb turns on the lights. like they are the only things grounding you and keeping you from crumbling into a million tiny pieces but you don’t know how long they’ll be able to keep you together.

“go ahead and pick a room pipsqueak,” he says, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter that looks like maybe it’s never been used before but when he notices you haven’t moved from the front entryway, his tone quickly changes. “hey,” soft and comforting but it does nothing to help you right now. “what's wrong?”

clutching your bag tighter till the lumps and straps of it could imprint themselves on your skin through your clothes, you meet his worried gaze and swallow the heaviness weighing down your words. “caleb.. i..” your voice is shaky at best, a perfect symbol for the feelings swirling inside you like a tempest. “i just can’t believe you're here.. alive.”

he closes the distance between you in a few long strides and reaches out for you, cupping your cheek in his palm. he’s warm, so warm, his hand calloused and large like you had remembered it. like you worried you might forget one day when so much time had passed without him. “i’m here,” a promise said with so much certainty. “and i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a start of the release of the tremendous storm from within you finally manifesting into something tangible, something that you would have even less control over now that it’s pouring out of you in unruly waves and a downpour that first looks like a like drizzle. a few tears quickly turn into dozens more that caleb wouldn’t be able to catch or stop. not now. it’s consuming you, helping you to speak but with no chance to think or process your words before they’re tumbling out of your mouth and your body quickly follows suit.

“why caleb - why didn’t you come find me sooner?” dropping your bag, it lands on the tips of your toes the same moment your balled up fist meets calebs chest. you’re a sobbing mess in the matter of moments, looking at him through teary vision and speaking with so much pain behind your words you feel the ache of them reverberate back into your chest, ready to take you under and drown you in them. “would i have ever known if i haven’t snuck into the fleet? or would you have just left me to mourn over you forever while you got to play colonel?!”

he looks as afflicted as you feel but still in control of his emotions, more than you could possibly try to muster right now. “it’s more complicated than that. i had to join the fleet and i couldn’t contact you - couldn’t bear to put you through that pain again.”

“you don’t know anything about my pain caleb!” you spit the words like venom and you can see in his expression, in the way his hand on your face twitches, how much they affect him. “you have no idea how many times i wished for this all to be a bad dream.. to wake up and have you still be with me but instead woke up to the agony of you very much being dead. you have no idea how many times i went to your grave and could barely stand to leave because it’s as close to you as i thought i was ever going to be!” you try to push away from him, using your hand on his chest to shove him away and your other to remove his touch from your face. he doesn’t budge so easily, instead wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you closer and continuing to wipe your tears. “let me go!”

“no,” he replies, so full of understanding and care and you don’t know if it’s making it better or worse. he couldn’t possibly let you go, doesn’t think it’s within his strength to do so. it never has been before. his chest has always hurt when you’d cry and being the one to bring you to tears is what he loathes the most but it would never stop him from trying to comfort you or wiping away your tears. “not right now. not when you need me.”

“ha!” it's a pitiful and angry sound, a perfect mirror to how you feel about yourself right now. “where were you all these months i needed you then?! when i was crying just like this because i thought i’d never get to see you again?” you try again to get away from him, you can’t breathe or think straight, can’t do anything but crumble in the face of this storm but caleb doesn’t let you go far. doesn’t let you drown. “how can you so easily come back and act like i haven’t spent every moment in pain over the fact i thought you were gone forever?!” both of your hands are on his chest now. he doesn’t flinch at the force of them or try to remove them and before you know it, through your sobbing and weakening body, they’re clinging to him like a lifeline. you bury your face into his chest, his shirt quickly becoming soaked in your tears and snot, wrinkling under your tight hold.

caleb says your name softly, his hand cradling the back of your skull and keeping you pressed against him. “it was painful for me to be away from you too.” more than he could handle, worse than what he’d experienced before in any physical sense. 

“it’s not the same..” you hide behind the pillar of strength he’s offering you, let the storm rage and crash against him while tucked into the safe place of his arms as exhaustion starts to replace every other thing you had been feeling up until this point with the help of his embrace around you and the familiar scent of him invading your senses. this is real. he’s really here and he promised he wouldn’t leave you again.. “at least you knew i was alive - knew you could see me again if you really wanted..”

he holds you tighter then, his lips pressing in the crown of your head. he knows it's not the same but he also thought he was sparring you more pain by staying away, no matter how difficult that was for him. “you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you.” his hold is almost too tight now but you welcome it, want more of it. “it was agony to be away from you and hide this from you.”

“caleb..” you bury yourself further into him. everything hurts; your body, your heart, your head and somehow he is the soothing balm that makes it all better and the very source of it to begin with. you want to press him more, want to know everything that has happened to him while you’ve been apart but as you weep like a child in his arms, the words are lost and all you can do is hold on to him like your life depends on it. like he might disappear again if you were to let go.

you don’t know how much time passes before you’re being swept up off your feet, cradled against his chest and safely in his arms with your own so quickly and tightly wrapping around his neck to keep him as close to you as possible. he doesn’t tease or complain about the mess you’ve made of his outfit or your tears that soak into the skin of his neck. caleb doesn’t say anything as he walks to the couch and settles down onto it, removing his arm from under your legs to reach for a blanket that he drapes over you before adjusting you on his lap and holding you within his complete embrace again.

your sobbing slowly turns to small hiccups and scattered tears rather than a downfall of them but you don’t let him go. you can’t let him go and wonder if perhaps he is feeling the same when his hold on you doesn’t waver for a moment and he doesn’t try to move from underneath you.

“what if..” your voice is so weak, quiet enough you wonder if he’ll hear you at all and not knowing if you ever want him to. “what if tomorrow comes and you’re not here? what if i’m just dreaming.. what if you die again..” how will i survive losing you twice..

his arms around you tighten, as if he’s trying to make you one with him, bury you in the safety and truth of his very chest, where his heart beats for you and could never leave you again. not before he’d bring down the whole planet and whisk you away to a new one where it could only be the two of you. “i’m not going anywhere ever again. nothing will keep me from you or tear us apart,” caleb answers quietly, as if not anything or anyone else in this world was meant to hear his words but you. “i will be here tomorrow and everyday after. i promise.”

“c-can we stay like this for now? please..”

a soothing hand smooths over your hair and like it was even possible, presses you closer to him. “we can stay here, like this, for as long as you need and when tomorrow comes, i’ll make you breakfast and hold you again. until you know it’s not a dream and can believe that i’m not going to leave you ever again.”

[evermoreness]

hi lovely!! i had a random idea for a fic where reader is harry’s kindergarten teacher and he lets it slip to you that single dad james thinks she’s pretty? im just imaging a little 5 year old letting that information slip like it’s the most casual thing in the world and meanwhile james is dying of embarrassment hahahha. i just thought it would be cute :)

— This idea is so cute! Thanks for sharing with me, hope you like it! @iloveremmy

secret crush | james potter

pairing: james potter x muggle!reader

summary: dad!james is definitely ready to love again after some time, he just didn't think it would be harry's kindergarten teacher.

obs: feel free to send any requests!

masterlist

The small classroom was filled with laughter, crayons, and the chaotic energy only a group of five-year-olds could create. The walls were covered in colorful drawings, some resembling actual objects and others looking more like abstract masterpieces only a parent could pretend to understand.

At the front of the room stood y/n, the most beloved teacher in the entire kindergarten. She had a natural warmth about her, making every child feel special. She was also quick-witted and funny, always finding a way to make the most mundane things exciting. Her students adored her.

And at the center of it all, sitting on one of the tiny chairs like he was some kind of prince, was Harry Potter.

Harry was an interesting child—smart, playful, and with a sass level that could rival a teenager. He had a mop of messy black hair that never seemed to stay put, big green eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a personality far too charming for a five-year-old.

He had been extra sassy today, insisting he was "way too advanced" for their ABC exercises and that "Uncle Moony reads him much harder books." You had learned by now to just nod along when Harry said bizarre things like that.

You had taken a particular liking to him. Not that you played favorites (at least, not openly), but something about Harry made you want to protect him even more than the other kids. Maybe it was the fact that he was being raised by a single dad, or maybe it was the way he always looked at you with that cheeky little grin whenever he was about to say something absurd.

Right now, that cheeky grin was in full force.

"Miss y/l/n," Harry said, swinging his legs under the table as he colored.

"Yes, love?" you replied, crouching down to his level.

He leaned in as if he was about to share the most confidential secret of his life. "My dad thinks you're pretty."

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh!

You opened your mouth to respond, but Harry, apparently very pleased with himself, continued. "He says you're too young to have this many kids"

Well, you definitely held back the laughter, but as you didn't have an answer to that, you just changed subjects. You leaned over to glance at Harry’s drawing. It was a messy but clearly heartfelt attempt at a stick figure version of himself and his dad, complete with what looked like… a broomstick?

“That’s a great drawing, Harry!” you praised, ruffling his hair. “Is that you and your dad?”

Harry nodded, proudly holding up his masterpiece. “Yeah! That’s me, and that’s Daddy, and he’s flying really fast on his broom because he’s the best at Quidditch!”

Let's say Harry Potter was a really imaginative kid. He would always say some really funny stories about witches and sometimes, he would full on create new words. Like he was just doing now. You found it cute, but little did you know that it was actually all true.

You grinned. “I bet he is.”

Harry’s little legs swung as he beamed. “Yeah! And he says he used to be the best Seeker at Hogwarts! I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

“That’s a great dream,” you said, genuinely warmed by how much Harry admired his father.

James was tall, lean, and had the same messy hair as his son. He was dressed casually, but there was something effortlessly charming about him. And then there were his eyes—warm, hazel, and currently widening in horror as he realized what his son was in the middle of saying.

"And my dad also said—oh, hey, Dad!" Harry greeted, as if he hadn’t just delivered a verbal nuke seconds before.

James, who had clearly heard enough, looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Harry," he started, his voice a little strained, "what exactly have you been telling Miss y/l/n?"

Harry, completely unfazed, gestured at his teacher. "I was just telling her how you think she's pretty."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You found it cute how a grown man was becoming all flustered right now.

“I mean—” James rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have said something along the lines of you being… you know… a good teacher.”

Harry frowned. “No, you didn’t.”

James glared at his son. A warning look. A look that screamed drop it, drop it now, child.

Harry, of course, did not drop it.

James let out an awkward, nervous laugh, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Yeah, um, I don't know where he got that from—"

"You said it last night," Harry reminded him. "When you were talking to Uncle Pads and you said—"

"Okay, that's enough, kiddo!" James cut in quickly, picking up Harry like he was a sack of potatoes. His face was an interesting shade of pink now. "Time to go, say goodbye to your teacher!"

Harry, enjoying this far too much, gave you a knowing look before waving. "Bye, Miss! See you tomorrow! Oh, and it's okay! My dad only likes you a little bit."

James groaned. "Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

You, to your credit, simply gave James a bright, amused smile. "It’s fine. Kids say the funniest things."

James, still trying to compose himself, let out a breath. "Yeah. They do."

You tilted your head, studying him for a second. "Though, I have to say, you do have a very smart kid. And very honest."

James gave you a sheepish smile. "Yeah… unfortunately, he gets that from his mother."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something sad, something that made you instinctively soften your tone. "She must've been wonderful."

James nodded. "Yeah. She really was."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them. Then, because James couldn't handle any more embarrassment today, he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Right. Well. We'll be going now. Before Harry decides to share my entire life story."

You grinned. "That’s probably a good idea. Have a good evening, Harry. James."

James hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "You too."

As he walked out, still carrying a smug-looking Harry, you couldn't help but shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

James Potter, huh?

This was going to be interesting.

As soon as they were outside, James crouched down and gave Harry a look of pure exasperation. “Alright, Prongslet. Why?”

Harry just grinned up at him, utterly unapologetic. “I like Miss y/n. You like Miss y/n. Uncle Padfoot said you should talk to her more. I was helping.”

James dropped his head in his hands. “You and Sirius are banned from talking to each other ever again.”

The aftermath

James Potter was dying.

Not literally—he had survived multiple Quidditch accidents, a war, and Voldemort himself—but right now, standing outside of Harry’s kindergarten classroom, he was convinced that actual death would be less painful than the secondhand embarrassment he had just experienced.

His five-year-old son, his sweet, traitorous, utterly clueless son, had just casually exposed his very real, very secret crush on Miss y/n.

He was never showing his face in that classroom again.

…Okay, that was a lie.

He’d be back tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Because Harry loved school, and James definitely wasn’t going to pull him out just because he got caught being a pathetic twenty-five-year-old with a schoolboy crush on his kid’s teacher.

But, Merlin’s beard, how was he supposed to look you in the eyes again?

But instead, he found himself standing there like an idiot, because—screw it—he wasn’t actually opposed to talking to you.

At first, James had been mortified, barely able to meet your eyes when he picked up his son. But as the days went by, he found himself lingering a little longer each time. It started small—asking how Harry was doing, if he was behaving (spoiler: he wasn’t), and if he was making friends.

But then your conversations stretched longer.

“So, uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I actually wanted to talk to you about Harry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

James nodded, trying to look serious. “Yeah. His, uh… behavior.”

You blinked, looking at Harry, who was currently playing with another student and doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“…His behavior?” you echoed.

James cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s, uh, very concerning.”

You folded your arms, clearly humoring him. “What exactly is concerning about it?”

James hesitated. “Well. You know. The talking thing.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “The talking thing?”

James sighed, knowing you weren’t buying it. “Yeah. You know. The way he just… talks. No filter. Says things. About me.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head. “James, you do realize that’s completely normal for his age, right?”

James groaned. “I was hoping you’d say there was a cure.”

You grinned. “Afraid not.”

James huffed, but there was a smile playing at his lips now. “Brilliant. Well, at least tell me—how do I make sure he doesn’t casually ruin my life every time he opens his mouth?”

You shrugged. “Sorry, but I think you’re doomed.”

James sighed dramatically. “That’s what I thought.” He glanced at Harry again, who was still happily playing, then looked back at you. “Well, I guess I should be glad he didn’t say anything too bad.”

You smirked. “Oh, no, just that you think I’m really pretty and smile a lot when you talk about me.”

James groaned. “Merlin’s sake, why would you repeat it?”

You laughed. “Because it’s funny.”

James shot her a look. “For you, maybe.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Oh, come on, James. It’s not that bad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that I’m going to be forced to relocate and change my name now, right?”

You snorted. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” James deadpanned. “I’ll be John Smith from now on. You’ve never met me before in your life.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Well, John Smith, if it makes you feel any better…” you hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice softer. “I don’t mind what Harry said.”

James froze.

Your eyes were warm, teasing but also… something else.

And suddenly, James realized—maybe this wasn’t as embarrassing as he thought.

Maybe Harry had just given him the best excuse in the world to talk to the woman he’d been secretly crushing on.

And maybe—just maybe—he was okay with that.

For the first time that day, James grinned.

“Well then,” he said. “In that case, I think I can survive the humiliation.”

You chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

From that day forward, James’s routine of picking Harry up from school became a little different.

At first, he told himself he was just being polite—nothing wrong with staying an extra minute or two to talk to Harry’s teacher, right? Totally normal. Every parent did that.

Except every time, those one or two minutes stretched longer.

And longer.

Until one day, he realized he was actively looking forward to pick-up time—not just to see Harry, but because he’d get to talk to you.

Getting to know each other

James had fully intended to keep his distance after the Incident—as he now called it in his head. He had absolutely not planned to linger when picking up Harry, nor did he intend to talk to you for longer than necessary. But that's not exactly what happened since they had been talking a lot lately.

"Everything good today?" James would ask, standing at the doorway.

"Harry was a little sassy during storytime," you would say, amused. "He insisted he already knew how it ended and started narrating over me."

James sighed, rubbing his temple. "Of course, he did. Did he at least get it right?"

"Surprisingly, yes," you said. "Honestly, he’s way too smart for a five-year-old."

James smirked. "He gets it from me, obviously."

"Oh, obviously," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

And then, the next day…

"Harry told me today that he was going to ‘summon his broom’ to get out of naptime."

James coughed. "Uh. Kids have wild imaginations, don’t they?"

"Mhm," you said, amused. "Though, I have to say, that’s a very specific thing to imagine."

James quickly changed the subject.

And then, the next day after that...

He found himself lingering near your desk, watching Harry shove his tiny arms into his backpack with all the grace of a rampaging hippogriff.

“So,” James started, leaning against the desk, “should I be worried about his academic future, or is struggling with backpack logistics a phase?”

You grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s a phase. I think.”

James sighed dramatically. “Merlin’s sake, that’s a relief. I was beginning to think I’d have to enroll him in some kind of Backpack Etiquette for Beginners course.”

You chuckled. “Well, I do give him stickers when he remembers to pack up neatly.”

James blinked. “That’s brilliant.”

You shrugged, smirking. “Bribery works wonders at this age.”

James laughed. “Noted.”

And just like that, their conversation stretched past the usual parent-teacher exchange.

James found himself not in a rush to leave.

You didn’t seem to mind.

And Harry, for once, didn’t interrupt with any more mortifying revelations.

A win for James.

A week later, James arrived earlier than usual and found you organizing a small shelf of children’s books.

“Expanding their literary horizons?” he asked, stepping closer.

You looked up, smiling. “Trying to. Some of them are still convinced books are just really boring building blocks.”

James smirked. “Ah, yes. The tragic underappreciation of literature.”

You chuckled. “Exactly.” you tilted your head. “Did you like reading when you were a kid?”

James shrugged. “I liked it. But I wasn’t the sit-quietly-and-read type. That was Remus.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Remus?”

“My best mate,” James explained. “Loves books. Absolute nightmare when you try to pull him away from one.”

You grinned. “Sounds like the kind of student I’d love to have.”

“Oh, absolutely,” James said. “Meanwhile, I was the kid causing problems in the back of the class.”

You pretended to gasp. “You? Causing trouble? I would never have guessed.”

James smirked. “Shocking, I know.”

You fell into easy conversation after that, sharing stories about school, books, and the different kinds of students you had over the years.

James barely noticed the time passing.

Neither did you.

"Alright, I have to ask," you said one day, arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway. "What’s up with Harry and the ‘Uncles’?"

James blinked. "What do you mean?"

"He talks about Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony constantly," you said. "Are they even real people?" you said, knowing that those names were definitely not usual. Maybe they were imaginary friends.

James tried not to laugh, he couldn't explain it to you in a detailed way, you were a Muggle after all. "Padfoot and Moony are my best mates. They are very real. It's just their nicknames. Padfoot is Sirius, Moony is Remus."

You smiled, trying to understand why they were even called that. "I swear, sometimes Harry sounds like a tiny old man when he quotes them."

James laughed. "That… yeah, that tracks. They’ve been around his whole life."

You smirked. "So, which one gives the worst advice?"

"Oh, definitely Sirius," James said immediately. "He told Harry once that he could read his mind and my poor kid spent the rest of the week scared to think"

You burst out laughing. "That’s terrible!"

"I know!" James said, grinning. "Remus had to be the voice of reason that day, convincing Harry that his uncle couldn't read his mind"

The small talk everyday was becoming a habit.

James would ask about your day, and you would roll your eyes and dramatically recount whatever chaos had ensued in your classroom—kids throwing crayons, glue disasters, the occasional crying over absolutely nothing. You were expressive, funny, and had this energy that James found… comforting.

You, in turn, asked about James—not just about Harry but about him. His work, his hobbies, things he liked. And James found himself telling you, actually enjoying your chats instead of awkwardly stumbling over his words like he thought he would.

But, of course, Harry noticed.

"Dad," Harry groaned one afternoon as James leaned against the classroom doorway, chatting away with you while other parents picked up their kids. "You’re doing it again."

James blinked down at his son. "Doing what, Prongslet?"

Harry huffed dramatically, grabbing his tiny backpack. "Talking and talking and talking."

You burst into laughter. "Oh no, Potter, you’ve been caught."

James narrowed his eyes at his son. "Maybe I like talking to your teacher, kiddo."

Harry groaned even louder, stomping toward the door. "Ugh, come on! We're always the last ones now!"

You laughed, nudging Harry’s nose playfully. "Oh, come on, am I that bad?"

Harry sighed dramatically. "No, but Daddy talks to you too much."

James cleared his throat. "Well, I just—y’know—parent stuff. Making sure you’re doing okay."

Harry squinted at him. "Uh-huh. Sure, Dad."

You smirked. "Guess I must be very interesting, huh?"

James ran a hand through his hair, looking away. "Uh… yeah. I mean, no—I mean—"

You just chuckled and waved at Harry. "See you tomorrow, little tornado."

Harry grumbled something under his breath about adults being annoying and led the way out.

James followed, but not before sneaking one last glance at you.

Getting some advice (from the professionals)

By the time a couple of weeks had passed, James knew he had to do something.

Because this? This standing-in-the-doorway-every-day-for-way-too-long thing? This was not normal behavior. He wasn’t just talking to you about Harry anymore. He liked talking to you, period.

And that? That was terrifying.

You were the first person he’d felt anything for since Lily. It wasn’t the same—Lily had been his great, big, all-consuming love. But you? You were warmth, laughter, easy conversations, and teasing smiles. And that was something.

Which meant he was going to do the scariest thing he’d done since facing off against Voldemort.

He was going to ask you out.

Sirius and Remus, of course, had opinions.

"You just gotta charm her, Prongs," Sirius said confidently, lounging on James' couch. "Lay it on thick—tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, maybe throw in a ‘your eyes shine brighter than the stars’—"

Remus snorted from his chair. "Yes, James. Do that. That definitely won’t make her think you’re a lunatic."

Sirius furrowed his brows at his boyfriend "Hey! I think it worked wonders when i charmed you to like me"

Remus gave him a look "When did exactly you charmed me, pads?"

Sirius was quick to answer "Second year, of course, and it worked!"

Remus was trying not to laugh "Do you actually know that it didn't work, i just liked you back?"

Before Sirius could even snap back, his face surprised, James groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I don’t need to charm her. I just… need to not make a fool of myself."

Sirius smirked. "Well, that’s impossible. But, hey, shoot your shot."

James was pacing his living room, gripping his hair. "I can’t do it. I can’t do it."

Sirius was looking deeply amused. "You, the James Potter, too scared to ask a woman out? This is history in the making."

Remus, sitting in an armchair, gave a long-suffering sigh. "James, it’s just coffee."

"Just coffee? Moony, I haven’t dated since Lily!" James threw his hands up. "What if she says no? What if she thinks I’m a terrible father for even thinking about dating?"

"Mate," Sirius said, sitting up. "I promise you, the last thing she’s thinking is that you’re a terrible father. She likes you."

James scoffed. "She doesn’t like me."

Sirius smirked. "Oh, yeah? Then why does she always smile at you? And laugh at your terrible dad jokes? And talk to you for an eternity?"

"That’s just—she’s nice!" James insisted.

Remus gave him a knowing look. "James. Just ask her."

James groaned. "Fine. But if I make an idiot of myself, I’m blaming both of you."

He was really going to ask you out.

Taking actions

It was a Friday afternoon. James had spent the entire day hyping himself up. This was it. No more standing around like an idiot. No more pretending he was just talking about Harry.

He was going to ask you out. Casually. Coolly. Like a totally normal, smooth person.

(He was absolutely not smooth.)

"Hey, y/n," James started as he leaned on the doorway of the classroom, trying to look relaxed.

You, who was organizing a chaotic pile of paper, looked up and smiled. "Hey, Potter. You’re right on time for the usual end-of-the-day complaints from your son."

Harry, currently sulking with his backpack, threw up his hands. "They played ring around the rosie today! Do you know how boring that is?!"

You laughed. "What, not exciting enough for you?"

"No!"

James smirked. "That’s tragic, mate."

Harry crossed his arms. "Can we go now or are you gonna talk for twenty years again?"

James cleared his throat. Now or never.

"Actually," he said, looking at you, "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime."

You blinked. "What?"

James internally panicked. "Casual coffee. Like—like two people, drinking coffee, talking, existing in the same space—"

You raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you asking me out?"

James wanted to die. "I—I mean—yeah? But, like, you don’t have to—"

You grinned. "James."

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

"I’d love to."

James froze. "Wait. What?"

You smirked. "I said yes, Potter. You good?"

James stared at you, processing, before a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh. Well. That’s… good. That’s great. That’s—"

Harry groaned. "Finally!"

James turned to him. "Oh, what now?!"

Harry threw his hands up. "It took you forever to ask her! I thought you were never gonna do it!"

You laughed. "Seriously?"

James groaned. "Can’t anything be a secret in this family?"

You just smirked. "Apparently not."

James, still grinning, nodded. "Alright then. Coffee it is."

And for the first time in a long time, James felt something that wasn’t just surviving. He felt happy.

[honeyhae-svt]

I luv the headcanons and would love my tiger kwon soonyoung PLEASE :))))

hoshi's headcanon when he falls for someone (you)

kwon soonyoung (hoshi) x gn!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags / genre: hoshi x reader, seventeen fanfiction, lighthearted romance, playful banter, mutual pining, holiday vibes, cozy fluff, heartwarming moments, reader insert, wholesome love story, gentle humor, soft romance ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: n/a (just lots of giggles, flirty hoshi energy, warm hugs, and soft moments that make your heart flutter. mwahaha) ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 3443 ੈ♡ a/n: 3/13 ! (reqsts are open for the next member !). ILYSM ANON FOR REQUESTING A HOSHI ONEE ! i loved writing this one a little too much, i might've reached a word count of 10,000 + if my friend didn't stop me. ㅠㅅㅠ (p.s. im sorry. i forgot to post this.) ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Falling For U (Seventeen) ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

ੈ♡˚ ༘ hoshi's headcanon when he falls for someone

when hoshi falls for someone, it's impossible for him to hide it. his feelings shine through in every interaction, whether it's the way he lights up when you walk into a room or the endless excuses he finds to spend time with you. his love is loud and vibrant, like him, but it's also layered with an unexpected softness that makes it all the more special.

he's the type to shower you with compliments, sometimes silly and sometimes sincere, just to see you smile. he'll call you "the most amazing person in the world" one minute and then jokingly ask if you're honored to have his attention the next. his playful nature is his way of keeping things light, but underneath, there's a deep sincerity. every teasing, every exaggerated gesture is hoshi's way of showing he cares.

you'll notice he goes out of his way to include you in his world—whether it's dragging you to try out something he's excited about or sharing random tiger facts (because, obviously, you need to know). he's full of energy, and he loves the idea of making you laugh or helping you forget a bad day. but when you're down, hoshi knows how to tone it down, offering you quiet support and reminding you he's there for you in the most heartfelt ways.

if he's jealous, it's not subtle. he'll pout and dramatically insist he's the best option for your attention, though he'd never make you feel uncomfortable. it's all in good fun—his way of showing that he cares deeply. when you reassure him, the grin that spreads across his face makes it clear he just wanted a little extra love from you.

hoshi's love language is loud, affectionate, and completely unfiltered. but when it's time for him to confess, you'll see a more vulnerable side of him. he'll still try to keep things light, stumbling over his words and making jokes to cover up his nerves, but the way his voice softens and his eyes meet yours will leave no doubt about how much he means every word.

with hoshi, falling in love isn't just a feeling—it's an experience. his love is like a sunrise, warm and full of energy, and once you're at the center of his world, you'll never doubt just how much you mean to him.

it was late, the soft hum of the night wrapping the room in a quiet stillness. hoshi sat on the couch, one leg tucked under him, a half-empty bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap. the tv was on, playing some rom-com neither of you had really been paying attention to. his eyes kept drifting to you, though you were too engrossed in your phone to notice.

you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the couch, absentmindedly scrolling and laughing at something every now and then. hoshi couldn't help but smile, the kind of smile that stretched across his face before he even realized it.

"kwon soonyoung," you teased, breaking his trance. you twisted around to look up at him, eyebrows raised. "what's that look for? are you laughing at me?"

he blinked, caught off guard, before shaking his head with an exaggerated pout. "me? never! why would i laugh at you?"

"then what?" you pressed, squinting at him. "you've been weirdly quiet. it's suspicious."

hoshi leaned back into the couch, suddenly aware of how warm his ears felt. he reached for another handful of popcorn, buying time to figure out what to say. how was he supposed to tell you that he wasn't laughing at you, but that just looking at you made him feel all sorts of things he couldn't explain?

"i was just... thinking," he said vaguely, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

you gave him a look, clearly unimpressed. "thinking about what? and don't say 'stuff.' i'm not letting you get away with that."

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face in mock defeat, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "fine, fine," he said dramatically, shifting forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "i was thinking about you."

your teasing expression faltered, replaced by a mix of surprise and curiosity. "me?"

hoshi nodded, suddenly feeling shy under your gaze. "yeah, you. don't make it weird." he tried to laugh it off, but his voice was softer than usual, giving him away.

you turned fully to face him, sitting up straighter. "what about me?"

he hesitated, his fingers playing with the edge of the popcorn bowl. "just... you. the way you're always making me laugh. the way you light up when you talk about things you love. the way you're you, i guess." his voice trailed off, and for once, he wasn't cracking a joke to deflect.

the room was quiet for a moment, the tv's background noise fading into the distance. when you didn't say anything, hoshi looked down, feeling like he'd just thrown his heart out into the open.

"soonyoung," you said softly, and he dared to glance up. the way you were looking at him—like he was the only thing in the room—made his breath catch.

"yeah?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled, that soft, genuine smile that always made his chest ache in the best way. "you know, you're not the only one who's been thinking about someone."

his eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. instead, he just stared at you, waiting for you to say what he was too scared to believe.

"i like you too," you said, your voice shy but steady.

the grin that broke across hoshi's face was immediate, bright and full of relief. "really?" he blurted, leaning forward like he hadn't heard you properly.

you laughed, nodding. "yes, really. why do you look so surprised?"

"because i've been trying to figure out how to tell you for weeks!" he exclaimed, setting the popcorn aside and sliding down to sit on the floor beside you. "do you know how many times i almost said it and chickened out?"

"that sounds like you," you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

he pouted, but the way his hand brushed against yours betrayed his excitement. "hey, i'm being vulnerable here. don't make fun of me."

you laughed again, your fingers intertwining with his. "alright, alright. no teasing. but for the record, i think you're pretty cute when you're nervous."

hoshi's cheeks turned pink, but he couldn't stop smiling. "you're gonna regret telling me that. i'll never let you live it down."

"i'm counting on it," you said, squeezing his hand.

and just like that, the tension melted away, replaced by the kind of warmth that made everything else feel insignificant. sitting there beside you, hoshi realized that for all the times he'd doubted himself, this—you—was worth it. every single second.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ kisses and cuddles with hoshi

soonyoung is naturally affectionate and playful, his love for physical closeness showing in every little touch. he's the type to make you laugh first before pulling you into a hug, his bright energy making the simplest moments feel full of life. but beneath all the teasing, he's incredibly thoughtful—his gestures always carrying a deeper, quieter kind of love.

it's in the way he bumps his shoulder against yours when you're sitting close, or the way his pinky hooks onto yours absentmindedly.he thrives on moments when your laugh echoes in the space between you two, his eyes crinkling with that signature grin as he watches you.

one night, you're both sprawled out on the living room floor, the remnants of a late-night snack scattered around you. you're trying to win an argument about who gets the last slice of pizza, and soonyoung is putting up a good fight, complete with dramatic gestures and exaggerated reasoning.

"fine," you finally concede, laughing as you push the plate toward him. "you win. but only because i'm too tired to argue."

he smirks, victorious, but instead of taking the pizza, he sets it aside and leans over, resting his chin on your shoulder. "you're too cute when you're pretending to be mad," he teases, his voice soft and warm.

you roll your eyes, but the way your cheeks flush doesn't go unnoticed. "you're lucky i like you," you mutter, and he grins wider, his hand brushing against yours as he settles beside you.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ the first kiss soonyoung's first kiss with you is every bit as spontaneous as he is, yet it feels perfect in the moment.

it happens during one of your usual late-night hangouts, walking aimlessly through quiet streets with the glow of streetlights guiding your way. you're both bundled up against the chilly air, sharing random stories and laughing at each other's terrible jokes.

at some point, he stops walking, grabbing your arm lightly to make you pause too. "wait," he says, his tone suddenly more serious. "i just thought of something."

you tilt your head, curious. "what is it?"

he looks at you for a moment, his expression softening. "if i don't do this now, i might chicken out later."

before you can ask what he means, he steps closer, his hand brushing against yours before cupping your cheek gently. there's a flicker of nervousness in his eyes, but it's overshadowed by the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

then he kisses you, his lips warm and soft against yours, the kind of kiss that feels like a question and an answer all at once. it's sweet, unhurried, and undeniably soonyoung—playful yet full of feeling.

when he pulls back, he's grinning, his cheeks tinged pink. "so... was that okay?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

you laugh, still a little breathless. "yeah, it was okay," you tease, though the smile on your face says much more.

"good," he replies, his grin widening as he takes your hand in his, swinging it slightly as you both continue walking.

ੈ♡˚ ༘ cuddles with hoshi cuddling with soonyoung feels like being wrapped up in sunshine. he's the kind of person who makes every hug feel like a celebration, his energy and warmth impossible to resist.

it starts with him flopping onto the couch beside you, his head landing in your lap as he dramatically sighs about how tired he is. "you've been ignoring me all day," he whines, even if you've only been apart for an hour.

"have not," you counter, laughing as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair.

he hums in contentment, his arms wrapping around your waist. "this is all i needed," he murmurs, his voice muffled as he buries his face against your stomach.

on lazy mornings, he's the one to pull you back into bed, his arms tightening around you when you try to get up. "five more minutes," he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep. when you give in, he smiles triumphantly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before settling back against you.

his favorite way to cuddle is when you're both lying on the couch, tangled together under a blanket. he loves resting his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as his fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm. every now and then, he'll look up at you with a soft smile, pressing a quick kiss to your chin or your cheek before snuggling closer.

sometimes, when he's feeling especially playful, he'll tickle you just to hear you laugh, only to pull you into a tighter hug afterward, his own laughter mixing with yours. "sorry, i couldn't help it," he says, though his grin tells you he's anything but.

with soonyoung, cuddling is more than just physical closeness—it's an extension of the way he loves. it's in the way he holds you like he's afraid to let go, in the way his presence makes every space feel a little brighter, and in the way he makes sure you always know just how much you mean to him.

┊ ➶ ｡✩‧₊˚ bonus

soonyoung has always been a bundle of energy, his personality larger than life and his affection boundless. but when it comes to the more intimate moments—the ones where the world seems to fall away and it's just the two of you—there's a quiet intensity to him that takes you by surprise every time.

it's late one evening when the two of you find yourselves curled up on the floor of his dance studio. the mirrors around you reflect the faint golden glow of the fairy lights he's strung up, the only illumination in the quiet space. he's lying on his side, his head propped up by his arm as he watches you flip through a playlist on his phone.

"that one," he murmurs, pointing lazily at a random song. but his attention isn't really on the music—it's on you. the way your face softens when you focus, the slight furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth away with his thumb.

you click on the song, the soft melody filling the studio, and set the phone aside. turning to him, you catch the way he's staring and feel your cheeks warm under his gaze. "what?" you ask, a small laugh escaping.

"you're just... really pretty," he says simply, his tone free of the usual teasing lilt. his honesty makes your heart skip, the sincerity in his eyes leaving you speechless.

you roll your eyes to hide the flutter in your chest. "don't start, hoshi."

"i'm serious," he replies, his voice quieter now. before you can deflect again, he leans in just a little, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingertips linger for a second too long, the warmth of his touch spreading like fire under your skin.

the air between you shifts, and it's then you realize how close he's gotten. your breath catches as his thumb brushes against your cheek, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your eyes again.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he's afraid the moment will shatter if he speaks too loudly.

your heart is pounding, and you manage a small nod before he closes the space between you. the first press of his lips is soft, tentative—almost shy. it's a side of soonyoung you don't see often, and it makes the kiss all the more meaningful.

but he doesn't stay tentative for long. as soon as he feels you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. the kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with a quiet urgency, like he's trying to convey everything he feels in this one moment.

his other hand finds your waist, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you as the world spins around you. he kisses you like he's trying to memorize every detail—the way your lips move against his, the soft hum you make in the back of your throat, the way your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

when he finally pulls back, you're both breathless. his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he takes a moment to steady himself. "wow," he says softly, his lips curving into a small, almost dazed smile. "you're really good at that."

you laugh, the sound light and a little giddy. "you're not so bad yourself."

but he's not done. before you can say anything else, he's pulling you in for another kiss, this one less careful and more confident. his hand slides up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. there's a hunger to it now, a raw intensity that makes your knees weak, even though you're already sitting.

and soonyoung? he's completely lost in you. every kiss feels like a dance, his rhythm perfect as he draws you in and leaves you wanting more. his lips trail down to your jaw, his breath warm against your skin as he murmurs your name like it's the only thing that matters.

when he finally pulls away for the second time, he's grinning—his signature, boyish smile that makes your heart melt. "okay," he says, his voice playful but still tinged with that lingering softness. "now i'm definitely never letting you go."

and you believe him. because in moments like this—with the world quiet and his arms around you—it feels like you've found something worth holding onto forever.

⊹˚. what exactly are you to hoshi?

to hoshi, you're the spark in his world—the excitement he didn't know he needed and the calm he secretly craves. you're his muse, his confidant, and the one person who can match his energy without even trying. you're his sunshine on chaotic days, the person who laughs at his jokes (even the terrible ones), and the one he trusts with the parts of himself he doesn't show to everyone.

to him, you're not just special—you're irreplaceable.

⊹˚. how hoshi falls for you

hoshi falls for you like a whirlwind—fast, fun, and a little overwhelming. he doesn't realize it at first because he's too busy enjoying the moments he shares with you, whether it's your teasing banter, your shared adventures, or the way you somehow always manage to make his day better.

he falls for the way you light up a room, your unfiltered honesty, and the way you cheer him on—even when he's being extra.

for hoshi, it's not just one moment; it's a series of moments that stack up until he can't ignore how much you mean to him anymore. maybe it's the way you dance with him without hesitation, how you match his energy during the most ridiculous moments, or the way you just listen when he opens up about his dreams and fears.

example: it's late one night, and you're both sitting on a rooftop, eating convenience store snacks and laughing over nothing in particular. the city lights stretch out below you, and for a moment, hoshi glances at you as you talk about something random. your eyes shine, your laugh carries through the night, and his heart just stops. that's when it hits him: this is my person.

when hoshi confesses, it's going to be bold, a little chaotic, but so him. he might try to plan something elaborate—like a dance routine or a surprise party—but it'll probably go hilariously wrong, and he'll end up blurting it out in the middle of a laugh.

"okay, wait, i can't keep this in anymore!" he'll say, running a hand through his hair as his cheeks turn pink. "i really like you. like, a lot. and i know this might sound crazy, but... will you be my tiger?"

(ㅅ' ˘ )♡ when hoshi loves, it's big, bold, and unrelenting. he loves with his whole heart, making you feel like you're the most important person in his universe. he's the type to hype you up constantly—whether it's about how amazing you look, how talented you are, or how lucky he is to have you.

he's always planning little surprises to make you smile, whether it's showing up at your door with your favorite snacks or dragging you out for a spontaneous adventure just because he wants to see you laugh.

he leaves sticky notes in random places for you to find, each one with something sweet or funny: "did you know you're amazing? because you are!" or "you're cuter than a tiger cub. don't fight me on this."

hoshi's love is physical and affectionate—he's always pulling you into hugs, holding your hand, or squishing your cheeks. he thrives on closeness, always looking for excuses to be near you, whether it's leaning against you during movie night or intertwining his fingers with yours during a quiet moment.

when he kisses you, it's playful at first—soft pecks that turn into giggles—but when he really leans in, it's deep and meaningful, like he's trying to convey just how much you mean to him without saying a word.

and when you're upset, hoshi is your biggest cheerleader. he'll do everything in his power to make you smile again, even if it means acting like a complete dork just to hear you laugh. but he also knows when to be serious, offering quiet comfort and unwavering support when you need it most.

his love is an endless burst of energy, but it's also steady and grounding, reminding you every day that you're his favorite person in the whole world.

with hoshi, love feels like the perfect mix of adventure and home—wild, fun, and exactly where you belong.

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed because i definitely did, myself. i love hoshi so much i think i love him a little too much and he's so cute i will die for him. idk what to say because writing this, i was 3 bottles drunk and i immediately sobered up thinking what hoshi might be. (i proofread this over and over again and honestly, im so proud of finally finishing this). i might make another hoshi fanfic soon. please, mom, i want himmmmm

[777bae]

WITH YOU JACK HUGHES

Summary :: After a brutal injury, you’re left to navigate recovery on your own. But Jack, despite the distance, becomes your lifeline—calling every day, offering comfort, and doing everything he can to be there. When he finally returns, his unwavering love and support help you heal, proving that together, you can overcome anything.

Warnings :: description of injury

Word count :: 5.6k

It all started at an NHL-run community skate event. You’d been invited along with a few other women’s league players to skate alongside the NHL stars, giving young fans a chance to meet their idols in a laid-back, personal setting. You didn’t expect much from the event—just another community outreach, another day to interact with fans and grow the game you loved. But that was before you met him.

Jack Hughes had been one of the NHL’s rising stars for a while, and despite the buzz around him, he was surprisingly down-to-earth. Tall, with his bright blue eyes and easy smile, he was exactly as you’d imagined him—charismatic, charming, and somehow completely approachable.

As you laced up your skates, adjusting the blades on your boots, you’d heard his laugh first, a genuine, warm sound that made it hard not to smile. You hadn’t even looked up when you realized he was skating toward you until you felt the brush of a glove on your shoulder.

“You here to show us how it’s done?” Jack’s voice was playful, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his words. You glanced up, met his gaze, and for a moment, both of you seemed to just… stop. He wasn’t towering over you, but there was a light in his eyes that made you feel like you were suddenly the center of attention.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re the one who’s been stealing all the spotlight. I just came to get some practice in. You know, to make sure I don’t show you up.”

He laughed again, this time shaking his head as he lowered himself into a comfortable skating stance. “I’m not worried. I’ve seen how fast some of the girls on your team can skate.” He leaned in a little, his voice a touch quieter. “But I have to admit, I’m hoping I’ll learn something today.”

It was all playful banter, but somehow, there was a connection that flickered between you in that brief exchange. Something about his easy confidence mixed with a genuine curiosity about the women’s game. It wasn’t like the typical interactions you had with male players; there was no condescension, no weird power dynamic. Just a guy who appreciated the game and the players—regardless of their gender.

The rest of the skate went by in a blur of friendly competition and shared laughter, with Jack occasionally pulling you into a race around the rink. You couldn’t deny that his speed on the ice matched his charm off it. It was fun—refreshing, really—especially since you were used to competing against men who sometimes didn’t seem to understand the level of skill and commitment women brought to the game. But Jack, he didn’t seem like that at all. If anything, he seemed eager to learn, to listen.

Afterward, while most of the other players were heading off to grab something to eat, Jack caught up to you again as you were packing your gear away.

“Hey, you wanna grab some dinner?” he asked, his voice casual but with that little spark of hopefulness. “I promise I won’t make it weird—just thought it’d be nice to hang out, talk about the game… maybe see if you’re as competitive off the ice as you are on it.”

It was a little unexpected, but something about the offer felt right. You’d spent so many years in a world of competition, sometimes too focused on the next game, the next practice. The thought of having a simple, easy evening, talking about something other than hockey, sounded like a refreshing change.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “I could use the company.”

That first dinner was nothing extraordinary—just a low-key meal at a local diner, where you both dug into greasy comfort food and swapped stories about your respective teams. But the conversation never lagged. Jack talked about his early days in hockey, his family, his goals, and somehow, you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing things you usually kept locked behind a barrier of professionalism. It felt natural, easy, like you’d known him much longer than just a few hours.

By the time you were leaving the diner, you felt something click. It wasn’t just the conversation. It was the way Jack made you feel seen, valued. He didn’t view you as just a player; he saw you as someone who belonged in the same conversation as the men he idolized.

That night, as he walked you to your car, he hesitated before speaking.

“Do you think we could do this again?” His tone was soft, uncertain—nothing like the cocky attitude you sometimes saw from athletes. There was a real vulnerability in his question, an openness that you hadn’t expected from someone with so much attention on him.

You smiled, already knowing the answer before you even said it. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The following months passed in a whirlwind. The connection you’d felt that night only deepened as you found yourselves spending more time together, whether it was over quick dinners after games or stolen moments between practices. The distance between your homes had been a challenge at first, but Jack made it work. His busy NHL schedule and your packed NWHL calendar had their limitations, but you made it a priority. Phone calls, FaceTime, and text messages became lifelines, bridging the gap when you couldn’t be in the same place.

And then came the moment when it all felt a little more real. One night, after a game where you’d scored the game-winning goal, Jack called you to congratulate you. As you chatted about the game, the conversation shifted.

“So, I was thinking…” Jack’s voice dropped a little, a teasing edge creeping in. “What if we make this official? You know, like, ‘dating’ officially. I mean, we’ve spent enough time together at this point, and I’m kind of starting to like you.”

You’d laughed at first, but when you heard the sincerity in his voice, you felt that flutter in your chest.

“I think I could be okay with that,” you’d said softly, feeling something in your heart shift.

And just like that, what had started as a casual meeting at a community skate turned into something real, something deep. The spark between you two grew into a full-blown flame, one that, despite the distance and the challenges ahead, seemed unstoppable.

That was how it all began. From a community skate to something much bigger. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just fighting for your place in the game—you were fighting for something real, with someone who understood and shared your passion for both hockey and life.

It had been a few months since you and Jack had officially started dating, and even though the connection between you two had only deepened over time, the long-distance nature of your relationship had taken its toll. Jack was a rising star in the NHL, and your team’s season in the Women’s Hockey League was just as intense, if not more so. So, when Jack had to leave for a week-long stretch of West Coast games, the distance felt particularly harsh. But you both had your routines, and you had become experts at making the most of what time you had together.

The first night Jack was gone, you walked through your shared apartment, the silence of the space more apparent than usual. You had been here before, used to being away from each other for stretches of time, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier. Still, you had your own games to focus on, so you pushed aside the feeling and settled into your familiar routine of stretching, preparing, and strategizing for your upcoming match.

That week, your team was on a roll. You managed to secure comfortable victories in your first two games, and no matter the late hours or time zone difference, you made sure to FaceTime Jack after each of your games. His voice was always a small anchor that pulled you back into a sense of normalcy. His tired face would appear on the screen, grinning with excitement or offering words of encouragement as you recapped your performances. The calls were a lifeline, a reminder that even though the miles between you stretched across the country, you weren’t alone in this. You’d FaceTime on his days off, too, taking solace in the familiarity of his presence, even if it was only a screen away.

But it was that third game that shook everything.

You had been feeling sharp and focused, your team’s momentum riding high. You were confident going into the match, your movements on the ice instinctively flowing with each pass and play. The puck was on your stick as you skated into the offensive zone, eyes locked on the net ahead, the crowd’s roars swelling around you. But just as you prepared to make your move, you felt a brutal shove from your side. The force was unanticipated, and before you could brace yourself, you were sent spiraling off balance.

The hit slammed into your leg, pain shooting through your entire body like a bolt of electricity. Your vision flashed white for a moment, the rink around you spinning as you crumpled to the ice, unable to register anything other than the excruciating ache in your lower body. You could hear voices, distant and muffled, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the raw agony. Your leg felt like it was on fire, every inch of it screaming at you in ways you didn’t think possible.

The next few moments were a blur. You were helped off the ice, each movement sending shocks of pain through your leg as your teammates rushed to your side. You were placed in an ice bath to try to numb the swelling, but it was clear from the first glance—the leg wasn’t just bruised. It was broken.

At the hospital, the diagnosis hit like a hammer to the chest. You had multiple fractures in your leg—some clean breaks, some more complicated. Surgery was the only option, and it needed to be done as soon as possible. You were too overwhelmed to process anything. The pain was all-consuming, and the physical shock of it was enough to dull your thoughts. The one thing that kept repeating in your mind, though, was that you hadn’t messaged Jack. You had forgotten. You had promised him you’d let him know if anything happened, but now, you couldn’t even remember if you had the energy to tell him.

You were rushed into surgery, the doctors prepping you quickly for the procedure, but you couldn’t shake the guilt of not reaching out to him. When you fell unconscious from the anesthesia, your thoughts faded, but that nagging feeling remained.

Meanwhile, in California, Jack had just finished his game. He had played well—scoring a goal and getting an assist—but his mind was elsewhere. His phone buzzed as he walked into the locker room to cool down. As he picked it up, his heart stopped for a second. It was a video message from one of his friends, a clip from the game he had just missed. It was you.

The footage was grainy, taken from the stands. He saw the hit happen in real-time, the moment when your body was slammed to the ice. And then, the terrible sight of you crumpling, unable to move as pain clearly overtook you. His breath caught in his throat, and panic surged through his chest.

Without thinking, he immediately called your number, but it went straight to voicemail. His hands were shaking now, his mind racing with worry. Why hasn’t she answered? He called again, and again, his anxiety growing with each unanswered ring.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, growing frantic. He tried texting you, then calling your teammates and coaches, but no one picked up. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he dialed number after number, panic creeping up his spine.

Finally, one of your coaches picked up. The calm, steady voice on the other end didn’t help to alleviate Jack’s mounting panic.

“Coach, what happened to her?” Jack’s voice was tight, strained. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she answering? What happened? I saw the hit—she looked… she looked like she was in so much pain!”

Your coach’s voice was reassuring but firm. “Jack, calm down. She’s in surgery right now. She fractured her leg pretty badly. The doctors are taking care of her. They’re going to monitor her recovery closely. But she’s going to be okay.”

He froze, his heart still pounding. “Surgery? Is she awake? Can I talk to her? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s still under, Jack. They’re finishing up. She’ll be okay. You can’t be here right now, and I know that’s hard. But she’s in good hands.”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. “How long is she going to be in the hospital?”

“At least a couple weeks. They’ll want to monitor her closely to make sure everything heals properly.”

The words barely registered at first, but Jack’s mind finally began to slow, even as frustration and helplessness gnawed at him. He had a whole week of games ahead. There was no way he could be by her side—he would have to wait. And the thought of being this far away from her, with nothing but the distance and his uncertainty, felt unbearable.

After the call ended, Jack sat in silence for a long moment, trying to collect himself. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the next few days, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. He would call her every day. He would check in, even if it was through a screen, and he would make sure she knew he was there for her, even if he couldn’t be there physically.

Hours after the surgery, you began to stir, the soft beeping of machines pulling you from the thick haze of anesthesia. Your body felt heavy, your head foggy, and the ache in your leg was muted but persistent, a constant reminder of what had happened. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, you slowly registered your surroundings—the sterile white hospital room, the IV taped to your arm, and the faint murmur of voices outside the door. Everything felt surreal, like you were caught between waking and dreaming.

The door creaked open, and your coach stepped inside. She offered a soft smile, her familiar presence grounding you amidst the disorientation. “Welcome back, kid,” she said gently, pulling up a chair beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a croak. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s about right,” your coach replied, crossing her arms. “But the surgery went well. They said you’ll be back on your feet eventually—it’s just going to take some time.”

You nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. The details of the injury and the hit felt blurry, distant, as if they belonged to someone else. What you did remember, however, was the pressing need to call Jack. You opened your mouth to ask about him, but your coach beat you to it.

“Your boyfriend,” she said with a knowing smirk, “has been losing his mind. He’s been calling non-stop since he found out. I had to take one of his calls during your surgery just to calm him down. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone freak out that much in my life.”

Despite the lingering grogginess, you chuckled softly, though the motion tugged at your sore muscles. “Did I… Did I at least tell him I’m okay before I went under?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “You were out cold before you could even grab your phone. But don’t worry—he knows you made it through the surgery. Barely, though. The poor guy sounded like he was about to hop on a plane mid-road trip.”

You smiled faintly at the image of Jack pacing in some hotel room, his phone glued to his ear as he pestered anyone who would answer. Your heart ached at the thought of how worried he must have been. You motioned weakly toward the bedside table, where your phone sat, its screen dark but promising missed calls and messages. “Can you hand me that?” you asked.

Your coach retrieved the phone and placed it in your trembling hands. As you fumbled with the screen, your fingers clumsy and unsteady, you saw the barrage of missed calls and texts from Jack. Over a dozen calls, countless messages—all timestamped from the moment he must have seen the hit. Swallowing hard, you tapped his name and brought the phone to your ear.

It barely rang once before his voice burst through the line. “Hey!” Jack’s tone was frantic, a mix of relief and worry. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Is there someone there with you? Do you need something? God, I should’ve been there—I should’ve been with you—”

“Jack,” you interrupted softly, but he didn’t stop.

“I saw the clip. I saw it. That hit—it looked so bad. You just went down, and I—God, I felt like my heart stopped. I’ve been calling everyone, and no one was picking up, and then your coach finally called me back and said you were in surgery. Surgery! I should’ve been there—”

“Jack,” you said again, more firmly this time, though your voice was still weak. His words slowed, but the panic in his tone was still evident. “I’m okay,” you assured him, even as your own voice wavered. “The surgery went well. I’m sore, but I’ll be alright. I promise.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with his uneven breathing. “You’re sure?” he asked finally, his voice quieter but still laced with worry. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your lips curling into a faint smile. “They said I’ll make a full recovery. It’s going to take a while, but I’m okay, Jack. You don’t have to worry.”

His sigh of relief was audible, but it was short-lived. “How could I not worry?” he said, his voice rising again. “I saw the hit, and then I didn’t hear from you, and I was stuck here, a thousand miles away, with no idea if you were okay or if you were—” He stopped himself, his voice breaking. “I hate this. I hate that I’m not there with you.”

The raw frustration in his voice was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “It’s just hockey,” you said softly, trying to reassure him. “Stuff like this happens. It’s part of the game.”

“Not to you,” he snapped, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. “It can happen to anyone else, but not you. You’re the last person I want to see getting hurt, and now you’re stuck in a hospital bed, and I can’t even be there to hold your hand.”

“Jack,” you whispered, but he was on a roll now, his frustration spilling over.

“I can’t believe this stupid schedule,” he muttered. “I should be on the next flight home. Screw the games. They can deal without me for one night—”

“You can’t do that,” you said quickly, your voice firmer this time. “Jack, I need you to focus on your games. I’ll be fine. You’ll see me soon enough.”

He sighed again, the sound heavy with reluctance. “I just… I feel so helpless,” he admitted. “You’re hurt, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you told him gently. “Just hearing your voice right now is enough.”

The conversation eventually calmed, though Jack’s worry never fully faded. He promised to call every day—and he did. Over the next week, he became your lifeline.

The first night after your surgery, Jack called you just as he promised he would. The moment your phone buzzed with his name on the screen, a sense of comfort washed over you. You answered immediately, his face appearing on the screen before you could even get out a greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but still edged with worry. His hair was damp from a post-game shower, and you could see the dark circles under his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, shifting slightly against the pillows propping you up. Your leg throbbed dully beneath the cast, but seeing Jack’s face helped dull the ache. “Sore, but okay.”

“You look pale,” he noted, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the screen, like he could physically assess you through it. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you been eating? What about water—have you been drinking enough?”

“Jack,” you interrupted gently, your lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m fine. They’ve been taking care of me here, and the doctors said the surgery went well. You don’t have to worry so much.”

His sigh was audible even through the small speaker of your phone. “How can I not worry? I hate that I’m stuck here while you’re dealing with all of this alone.”

“You’re not stuck. You’re doing your job,” you reminded him. “And I’m not alone. My team’s been in and out, and the nurses here are great.”

“It’s not the same,” he muttered, his tone low. “I should be there.”

You reached up and adjusted the angle of your phone, so he could see your reassuring smile. “You’re here, Jack. Maybe not physically, but this? These calls? They help more than you know.”

His face softened slightly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t entirely disappear. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you said firmly. “Now, tell me about your game. How’d it go?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, but when you raised an expectant eyebrow, he relented. “It went alright. We won, but it was closer than it should’ve been. I missed an open net in the second period, and the guys gave me hell for it.”

“Missed an open net?” you teased, your tone light. “Wow, Jack Hughes is human after all.”

He groaned, though you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ll make up for it next game.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with a grin. “You always do.”

The conversation shifted after that, Jack asking about your day in the hospital. He wanted to know everything—what you ate, what the doctors said, how much pain you were in. His questions were relentless, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it warmed your heart to know how much he cared. By the time the call ended, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but the lingering sound of Jack’s voice in your mind made falling asleep a little easier.

The calls became your anchor over the next week. Every night, without fail, Jack would call you after his game, no matter how late it was. Some nights, he’d FaceTime you, propping his phone up on a stack of pillows in his hotel room while he lounged on the bed in sweats and a hoodie. Other nights, he’d call you during his downtime at the rink, his voice echoing faintly in the empty locker room as he checked in on you.

On the third night, after another win for his team, Jack’s call came through just after midnight. You answered groggily, your phone resting on your chest as you blinked sleepily at his face.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“No, it’s okay,” you murmured, shifting slightly to prop yourself up against the pillows. “How was the game?”

“Good,” he said, though his expression was a little sheepish. “I scored a goal, but I got into it with a guy on the other team. He cross-checked me, and I might’ve, uh, shoved him a little.”

“Jack,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You can’t get yourself hurt. One of us in the hospital is enough.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Don’t worry, I can take a hit. But seriously, how are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

You shook your head, smiling at his endless concern. “I’m fine, Jack. They’ve got me on some good meds, so I’m not feeling much pain right now.”

“Good,” he said, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if trying to detect any hidden discomfort. “Tell me if that changes, okay? If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“Jack, you’re on the other side of the country,” you pointed out, your tone teasing. “What could you possibly do from there?”

“Plenty,” he said stubbornly. “I could call your coach. Or your doctor. Or the president, if I have to.”

You laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “I don’t think the president can help with a broken leg, Jack.”

“Then I’ll find someone who can,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m serious, though. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“All I need is for you to win some games,” you teased, your voice light. “That’s all the help I need.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but you could see the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. “But you love me anyway.”

By the end of the week, the calls felt like second nature. Jack would update you on his games, sharing every detail with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to distract himself from his own worries. In turn, you’d tell him about the progress you were making in the hospital, even if it was slow. You joked about how the nurses were starting to recognize him just from the sound of his voice, and he teased you about how bossy you were getting with your requests for snacks and drinks.

Through it all, Jack’s constant presence—whether through a screen or a phone call—was what kept you going. And even though he couldn’t be there in person, he made you feel as though he was never truly far away.

Finally, after what felt like the longest week of your life, the day finally arrived when Jack’s West Coast road trip came to an end. He had called you every day, just like he’d promised, but it wasn’t the same as having him by your side. Through the screen, you could see the worry etched into his face and hear it in the tone of his voice. He hated being so far away from you, and every conversation ended with him muttering how much he wished he could teleport home.

The waiting had been agonizing for both of you. Jack barely slept, the guilt of not being able to be there gnawing at him, and you had spent your days in the hospital, frustrated by your immobility and longing for his comforting presence. So when you finally got the text that he had landed and was on his way, the anticipation became almost unbearable.

You sat up in the hospital bed, your leg propped up in a brace and wrapped in layers of bandages, staring at the door like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. You heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, and then the door swung open.

“Jack,” you breathed, and there he was.

He looked exhausted. His hair was messy from the flight, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but the relief on his face was so palpable it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He crossed the room in three long strides, not even bothering to set his bag down before he wrapped you in the gentlest hug he could manage. His arms circled you carefully, mindful of your injuries, but the embrace was so full of love that it made your chest ache.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “God, I was so scared. Watching that hit… hearing you were in surgery… I didn’t know what to do. I felt so useless.”

You could see the guilt swimming in his eyes, and you shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “Jack, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”

“Stop,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “You did everything you could. You called, you checked in—Jack, I knew you were with me, even if you weren’t here physically.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his emotions flickering across his face like a storm. Then he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud made it more real. “And I’m not leaving until you’re back on your feet.”

The first day of Jack’s visit was spent catching up—he pulled a chair close to your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours as he asked about every detail of the surgery and recovery process. He flinched when you described the pain of the initial hit and visibly winced when you told him about waking up after the surgery. His worry was written all over him, and it didn’t fade even when you assured him that you were healing.

But he didn’t just stop at sitting by your side. By the next day, Jack had transformed into a one-man care team. He brought you your favorite coffee every morning, carefully maneuvering around the hospital room as though he’d been doing it for years. He kept your water bottle full, adjusted your pillows to make sure you were comfortable, and even insisted on helping you wash your hair when you mentioned you felt gross from lying in bed for so long.

“Jack, you don’t have to do all this,” you said one evening as he helped you shift positions, your leg still immobilized in the brace. “You just got back from a road trip. You should be resting, not waiting on me hand and foot.”

He scoffed, his hands steady as he fluffed your pillows. “Resting? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here taking care of you?”

“A tired one?” you offered, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, but his expression softened as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m exactly where I need to be. Don’t fight me on this—I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not.”

And he meant it. Jack spent every moment he wasn’t at practice by your side, helping you with the little things that had become impossible with your injury. When you were finally discharged and sent home, Jack took charge of setting up the apartment to accommodate your limited mobility. He rearranged furniture, set up a cozy corner on the couch where you could elevate your leg, and made sure your favorite snacks were within reach.

At night, when the pain was at its worst and sleep felt impossible, Jack was there. He’d sit beside you, his hand resting on your arm as he talked you through the discomfort. Sometimes he’d read to you, his voice low and soothing, and other times he’d just sit quietly, his presence enough to calm your racing thoughts.

One evening, as you lay curled up on the couch with your leg propped up on a stack of pillows, Jack sat beside you with a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant. The smell of your favorite dish filled the room, and you smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” you said, watching as he carefully plated the food for you.

He looked up, his face flushing slightly. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would fly across the country after an exhausting road trip and spend every waking moment taking care of their injured girlfriend,” you pointed out. “You’ve been… incredible, Jack. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering against yours as though he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. “You don’t have to go through anything alone,” he murmured. “Not as long as I’m here.”

In the weeks that followed, Jack became your rock. He helped you through the frustration of physical therapy, cheered you on as you regained strength, and reminded you every day that you were stronger than you thought. And though the road to recovery was long and grueling, the love and support Jack gave you made it feel a little less daunting.

As you sat together one evening, your head resting on his shoulder and your cast resting across his lap, you realized something profound: this injury, as difficult as it had been, had only brought you closer. Jack’s unwavering dedication had proven, without a doubt, that he was in this for the long haul. And with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[velvetwilde]

n/a: this is my first time trying to write something and actually posting it, I'm nervous. 

Ps: english is not my first language so bear with me. 

cw- 1187

tw- explicit language

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Other ways

where spencer is mad at you for ruining one of his favorite books and doesn't want to fuck you.

I was begging him to fuck me. I thought it was silly to have to beg him to take pity on my sweet, needy pussy, I could display myself naked and wet before him and it just wouldn't affect him in the slightest. It was a little humiliating, although I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me hornier. 

He was upset with me, maybe I deserved to be ignored, but come on, it was just a stupid book, I told him I'd buy him another one. He couldn't overdo it and punish me by not fucking me, I needed it.

''You know you can always punish me in other ways, Spencer,'' I whispered in his ear from behind the couch, pressing my tits against his shoulder so he could feel my hard nipples through my shirt. I nearly moaned when I stood in front of him and saw his hard erection inside his pants.

It was unfair that he was still mad at me, he was already hard - my folds were wet, ready for him to fuck me hard, deep and fast. I squeezed my legs tightly, trying to relieve the heat and throbbing of my pussy with the friction, I was so wet I wanted to cry.

I could just push him down onto the couch and sit on top of him. I'd unbutton his pants, gently pull his cock out as I watched his pretty face contort as he tried not to moan from my touch, then I'd fuck myself with his cock, him feeling my tight walls squeezing him deliciously with each deep thrust.

''Spencer, please, I need you'' I begged him. If he asked me to get on my knees and beg him to fuck me I would do it.

 I would pray to God for Spencer to fuck me.

''You’re a little brat always in need of my cock, aren’t you? You can't wait until I stop being upset to ask me to fuck you?" he spat in annoyance. I could see behind his masquerade how he began to give in, how he stretched his legs trying to hide his erection from me, as if he knew that if I saw him give in it was done for him.

''I’ll be good, I’ll buy you a new book… please, there’s no need to keep me in abstinence for a ridiculous book. You know I didn't see you for a whole week'' I begged him, I carefully sat on his lap - I moaned when his hard cock rubbed my wet pussy against my pantie ''come on, you're already hard, I can feel you'' I told him, grinding my hips on his erection, I moaned feeling his hardness rubbing against my sticky pantie ''I need you.''

''You’re really wet'' he said brushing his fingers against my folds, I moaned sighing as his digits pressed hard against my sweet center. ''What am I going to do with you?'' he whispered looking into my eyes

''Stop making me beg for what's mine'' I ground my hips hard on him, I smiled wickedly when I saw him twitch

''You know, you're right- there are other ways to punish you.'' He looked deep into my eyes with a dominant look that I had never seen in him before.

I gasped in shock as I felt his strong hands grab me by the hips and press my face against the couch.

''You know, maybe it's not so bad to give in,'' I heard him say, standing up.

My heart was pounding against my ears, my hips were rocking back and forth, rubbing my pussy against the couch, it felt good. Spencer would finally end my torture and fuck me, I tried to lift my ass in the air but I never saw the strong spank coming that hit my left cheek.

''Oh God!," I moaned in pain, ''Spencer, what are you…'' Another spank, I moaned, but this time I found myself enjoying it.

Spencer noticed it, he leaned over me and said in a deep raspy voice, "You're enjoying it, like a needy little slut." I pressed my ass against his erection, "Walking around in nothing but a t-shirt and panties... begging for my cock, so sweet''

"Come on, I need you" I said breathless

 I heard him unbutton his pants, he grabbed me tightly by the waist and roughly and quickly pulled down my panties, and without any warning he thrusts his whole cock in, making me scream. Spencer didn't even give me time to react when with a powerful push, his tip smashed against my walls so hard that for a moment my vision get blurred.

''Fuck, you're still so tight'' he growled.

''Please…'' I knew he was smiling as he continued to thrust his cock between my folds with deep languid strokes, showing his ability to leave me speechless as I tried to remember what I was going to say.

He continued his assault on my pussy for several more thrusts, making me bite down hard on the sofa cushion. His balls slapped hard against my ass, I could hear the wetness of my fluids and his mixed with the slaps with each thrust.

Spencer stopped moaning and leaned down close to my face, he could hear me gasping for air. I saw him smile powerfully at my weakness. Without stopping fucking me, he turned me around, leaving me exposed to him, he put one of my legs on his shoulder, the new angle made me moan louder, full of pleasure. With the new sensation on my G-spot I began to feel my walls squeezing his cock, making him moan.

I loved watching him fuck me, his abs clenching beneath his shirt with every thrust, his head falling back, making me drool at the sight of his delicious neck. I tried to keep my eyes open, but the second I closed them I felt one of his huge hands wrapping around my neck, forcing me to keep looking at him. It didn't bother me at all.

''Keep looking at me or I'll stop. Do you understand?''

I kept my eyes locked on his, he didn't stop for a moment, in fact, he thrust into me harder, making me scream. After several thrusts against my sweet spot, I screamed his name, tearing my throat out as I felt my walls tighten around his cock; I was about to cum.

Spencer let out a sinful moan that only made me beg for more, just as I felt myself tense up ready to cum, I bit my arm to silence my loud slutty whimpers. 

I felt him tense up and cum hard inside me, I moaned loudly as I felt his cum filling me and dropping over my folds and onto my legs.

I was about to cum too when I felt him completely withdraw his cock from my sensitive and needy pussy, for a moment I thought he would change the position to make me cum harder, but again he surprised me by grabbing me by the neck.

''Yes, there are definitely other ways to punish you,'' he said with a sideways smile, trying not to laugh.

[girl-lostconnection]

Hello!!!

I’ve been reading your works for a while and I’m hyperfixating adore you’re writings! So I saw this Red Bull ad during the Super Bowl and the penguin reminded me of Soap. Could I please humbly request hybridpenguin!Soap x reader fluff/comfort/romance/head canons anything really. I think you can bring this idea to life :3

It’s your lucky day cause I’ve been watching “Good luck Chuck” and there are some penguins that caught my eye. So I’ve been thinking about it whole day, googling penguins because I honestly don’t know much about them.

I chose Adelie Penguin for Soap because the blue-eyed stare this birds have is perfectly uncanny (I urge you to google them, they stare right in your soul) and also, they have very interesting courting rituals.

Also the wiki page for them said, I quote: “Despite their size, Adélie penguins are known for their bold and boisterous personality and will challenge other animals, including predators far larger than them.” And that reads like canonical Soap, because yeah, he would. Bold personality is right up this man’s alley.

But imagine hybrid Adelie Penguin!Soap and human Reader where he tries so fucking hard to court you properly but you don’t know jackshit about courting methods.

Male Adelie Penguins offer female penguin the perfect stone, polished to perfection, they spend quite some time looking for the best one and once found — they present it as a courting gift. It depends purely on the female penguin whether to accept courtship or not.

But if she does they can start mutual courting involving leaning closer to each other, grooming each other, familiarising with how each other sound — it helps them later to find the mate in the big crowd.

So Soap knows that maybe it would have been better to go with flower or something more conventional but he likes you, god, he really does. So there’s no harm in looking for a pretty stone for a pretty you, right?

Right?

Man spends his whole leave on Scotland’s shores, practically on all fours as he picks up decent stones, washes and polishes them at home before throw them all out because no. All wrong. Not prettty enough, not smooth enough, not shiny enough.

No mate would accept a shite like that, why would he even bring this ugly thing to your attention? What kind of potential mate would he be?

He returns to his searches even more determined. Soap will be damned if he comes back and he still doesn’t have a perfect stone for you.

And finally, luck smiles at him and dedication pays off — the perfect prettiest little stone he has ever seen. Smooth from cold waves, shiny in a way that makes you want it touch again and again, perfectly round. No ridges or bumps, no sharp edges or cracks.

Perfect stone for perfect you.

He returns feeling victorious and on top of the world and presents you with a stone without a second word. Quite literally he just extends his hand and there lies the stone. He doesn’t say anything, he’s just waiting for your reaction

And you have no fucking idea what’s going on, because the man is staring you in the eyes with his ungodly blue eyes and a little stone on his palm and you’re like…okay?:,) alright?🥹

So you take the stone to look closer (Soap tenses up like you have his heart in your hands, eyes hungry on you, still waiting for your reaction) and truth be told, it is a really nice stone. Shiny and smooth and perfectly polished. The kind of stone you’d want to fumble with all day, just rolling through the palm, massaging the center of your palm with it as you work.

It is a bloody lovely stone. You really like it.

But Johnny is not saying it, still watching you with the same hungry look, it’s just that now his grin is widening slowly because you look like you really like the stone. He did a good job, right? There’s no way you found his courting gift lacking.

And it is a perfect stone but the thing is…you don’t know if it’s a gift to you or if penguin part of Soap is simply showing off (crow!Simon does similar things when he brings you shiny stuff). So you don’t know if you are at liberty to keep the shiny pebble.

And Johnny is still completely fucking silent watching you with bated breath.

You carefully place the stone back in his palm, murmuring softly that it’s a very lovely stone, it looks incredible and you think it is absolutely gorgeous.

Soap stares at the stone for a few very long moments, his grin slowly fading because…don’t- don’t you like the stone, hen? You just said it’s gorgeous, but you are giving it back. Why are you giving it back?

He stares at the stone, absolutely crest-fallen in the face because he was so sure you’d like it. He was so proud of it and so excited to give it to you and of course there is no pressure for you to take it, after all it’s gift for you and you shouldn’t just settle for things.

But still.

What was wrong with it? Was there a crack he didn’t notice or is the texture of it not to your liking? Maybe you prefer sharper stones, maybe you like some roughness to them?

He looks back at you, feeling upset and anxious, stone still in hand while you try to gauge what the hell caused the reaction. Because Johnny is looking at you like you just kicked him in the stomach and you don’t know why.

“Ye didnae like it, hen?”, he swallows his pride and asks because obviously, you didn’t, what kind of fucking question is that. Mate just returned his gift back to him, means that gift is not up to standards.

You blink at him slowly, because what is he even talking about.

“I liked it. It’s really pretty. Where did you get it?”, you try to steer conversation away, since maybe there’s something you don’t seem to get about the stone.

“Why- ye didnae take it”, Soap’s voice is unusually soft, as he tilts his head to the side, stone clutched in his hand as some anxiety bleeds out of him.

Maybe he can still salvage it.

“Was it for me?”, the question leaves him now being the one who gives you a slow blink, before his gears kick in, realisations slowly creeping up his head. So that’s what was wrong.

“Aye”, stone returns to your palm, gets pressed into it by Johnny’s — warm and smooth — your heart skipping a beat. “If ye like it, Ah’d be happy if ye took it. But ainlie if ye like it, hen”

There’s a weight to this moment that you aren’t sure you capture fully but there’s something in Soap’s eyes that makes your fingers intertwine with his, head leaning closer to him. You are so close you can see the tiniest freckles on his cheeks.

Pretty.

“I really like it”, admitting it feels like you are ten again and sharing a silly secret with a boy you like, but Johnny looks at you like he couldn’t be happier.

His throat bobbing when you lean in closer, small shiver going down his spine because it’s really happening. His gift is accepted, his mate is accepting him — holding his hand, leaning into him, looking at him like that.

Best day of his life, truly.

So he presses a short tight kiss to your temple and nods at you like there is a shared understanding between you two now. Like you are partners in crime.

Soap practically jogs away, excitement evident in every step, shoulders spread out proudly. He fucking did it. He got the perfect stone for perfect you and you accepted it.

Now, the courting can really begin.

(It will take you an evening of google searches before you understand the meaning of the stone and why the hell, Soap is helping with your hair routine/skin care routine/nail polishing and even offers to “wash with the penguin, save the water, hen”)

[lesbianherald]

Based Jayce take tbh….also I’m gonna confess this on anon but one of my most pretentious takes when it comes to fandom is that everything would be way easier to enjoy if ppl understood story structure a little more. Like Jayce’s arc is a negative arc. He sucked on purpose! If you had bad feelings about him that was intentional and okay (I do think Jayce hate was overblown but I also get why it existed. Like the audience was just picking up on the feelings the show was putting down). But he was definitely Like That for a reason! Usually in good writing, characters are tools for the narrative first you know…you don’t need to justify his actions to like Jayce because he’s fictional and he’s not a real person youre stanning. But also fandom is for fun so I know this take is pretentious but also it’s my truth. My story structure….my characters who are intentionally challenging my theme….my character arc….

NO NO BUT YOU ARE COOKING ON EVERY LEVEL !!!!

(Note: This randomly turned into a very hasty analysis of the shots used in the bridge scene? Because I got on a tangent about how we interpret visual storytelling as well and oops!)

Story structure is so overlooked. The role characters are supposed to play in an overarching narrative is overlooked. So much gets ignored in the way information is presented both in the story structure and visually that sometimes it frightens me and it makes me really bummed! And it's nobody's fault! Most of us live in a society that devalues art and literacy on purpose!

I don't think it's pretentious to wish people better understood the building blocks of the story or at least understood how to take in general arcs. And I think if they did as a whole most fandom spaces would be a lot more interesting and have a lot less bizarre takes/infighting.

I also think that - where arcane's writing can get weird and murky - the visual language will cover it. (Almost to an extreme.)

It makes me think of one of my favorite scenes in the whole show and how misinterpreted it gets and how quick people are to defend jayce here despite how much it is playing on the themes of the show and how clearly he is painted as in the wrong both by the writing and the shots ok fuck -

I think all the time about the imbalance of power represented by that insane low angle on Jayce. You know what fuck it. I'm going to go get it. Fuck. This is about to become a whole thing. Okay.

If I brought an angle like this into a classroom setting, I would be laughed at for it being too obvious. But its one of my favorites because its so visceral. In fact, I've shown this to a lot of friends - the reaction to this shot is usually an audible "Woah!" or even nervous laughter! Because clearly! He's supposed to be intimidating here. This is supposed to be like. Oh. He is not who he used to be. Oh. Oh no. Its so co clearly a representation of power and corruption you may as well stamp it on his forehead.

He's not only Jayce here, he's a representation of piltover as a whole - in its physical and political positions over Zaun. In a position of power over someone he's close with, who just verbally told someone he would "understand." Now we are seeing that he very likely wont. (He will! But right now, we are supposed to be with Viktor in this scene. We are supposed to become convinced he won't right with him!)

Note that the angle we get for Viktor is way less extreme. Way more eye level. And less centered. I could go on about this too. But oooh boy. Like! Clearly we are supposed to be more with him in terms of who we find rational. Clearly he's the voice of reason here. We are level with him. He is at a safe distance. We are seeing how he is looking up at jayce without looking down at him.

In this shot, he is someone we as an audience are level with, who is gathering information, making a decision. He is remaining more measured than I think the audience is supposed to be given the angle we're getting on jayce.

The only time we do get the "reverse" of that Jayce shot on Viktor is when he is quite literally standing out of the frame almost immediately. Whose furious with the position Jayce is putting him in. This is Right after Jayce says, "They're dangerous." He's gathered the information he needs. He sees Jayce for what he is. Somebody he cannot trust. And he refuses to be put in this lower position.

Jayce is not supposed to be the one we are rooting for here. He is the person we are supposed to be disappointed in. We are supposed to question him here. This isn't only dramatically spelled out in the narrative but also in the shot choicesss!

And then we have the apology -

That's why i always question why people are like. Okay but he apologized. When the apology is framed like this! We don't even get to see viktor's face because the damage is done!! JAYCE ISNT EVEN LOOKING AT HIM !!!! It doesn't matter. We don't even get full access to Jayce here! What's at the center of this shot is the barricade that Jayce has ordered!!! This makes the apology, and "I've had a lot on my plate" purposefully look ridiculous in the context of the Narrative here! It's not enough!

Viktor is DYING. And jayce is standing here all prim and proper, with the Talis symbol very visible in that fuckass suit, saying he's had a lot on his plate. We're very clearly not supposed to look at this and go awww! baby boy <3. If this apology was a meaningful moment for either of them that changed either of their minds - it would not be framed like thisssss. These words are empty in the context of it all. Jayce may be genuinely sorry, but he's accidentally revealed way too much about how he views Viktor's people. Even if he didn't mean to. Even if he didn't realize how deeply his biases ran.

And then we have Viktor lying. Viktor knowing he has to go about this alone. And this is the shot. This is the moment of fracture. Viktor looking back at him in disgust with Jayce's barricade in the background. HES ALONE!! JAYCE HAS FAILED HIM !!! This is so critical in understanding Viktor's entire everything moving forward, and it's so so critical for Jayce as well.

People talk a lot about that moment where jayce has his hand on Viktor's lower back because yaoi but that screencap is so hard to get because that moment is almost immediately interrupted by a protestor from zaun throwing a Molotov cocktail in their direction! And the touch, that reluctant familiarity, despite the conflict, gets broken.

Something that I think gets overlooked is Jayce's face after the (Molotov?) gets thrown by a protestor. ITS ANOTHER LOW ANGLE LIKE!!! Once again. Highlighting the power he has here.

We see Jayce in season 1 act 1 really highlighted with a lot of high angles. A lot of doe-eyed wonder. He looks young. Sweet. This is not the same jayce and it is very very clear in the way he is shot. This is the point !!!!!.

There are a lot of scenes i see misinterpreted but this is the big one. And its one of my favorite scenes. Because he's so wrong here! And he doesn't really fully grasp how much so yet.

I love jayce. I love my complex man. Because here's the thing. He needed this low to reach the character highs he does later. Jayce being as loving and determined to make things right as he is in season 2 wouldn't be nearly as compelling or tragic or exciting were he not like this in season 1. It's brutal to watch him get punished by the narrative! But it's also narratively satisfying!

Anyways anon i agree wholeheartedly sorry i made it into a whole thing.

[peppermint-monster]

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

Warning: Pet names (Curvy Goddess), Confession...?, FLUFF?, Hickeys, Jealous-ish Kunigami, Missionary Position, Reader being a little bit obsessed, Blowjob, Situationship...? Basically, NSFW. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, be mindful that I didn't really mention much of the reader's appearance (besides, she's a female) since I wanted to keep it vague for everyone to relate as much as possible, though it is definitely for the more voluptuous side of ladies. 😊

Please be mindful that the photos are not mine, but the making of the collage is.

MINORS DNI!!!! 🔞🙅🏻‍♀️ If you're not comfortable with this, please ignore!

P.S. I write all characters over 18 and up (I should have mentioned that at the start 😅).

Kunigami Rensuke X Shy. Chubby Reader!

On Monday morning, while casually chatting with his friends, Kunigami unexpectedly realized that as they discussed their ideal partners, he noticed the shy, curvy girl sitting across the classroom, her eyes occasionally darting toward him. Seated at his desk, with his friends' chairs subtly turned in his direction, Kunigami couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and curiosity about the situation. 

“For me, she must have a mature charm, like Sensi.” His friend with a bowled cut fawningly smiles, thinking about Sensi. And if they’re married, it just makes it even better for cheating.”

“I would say an idol,” His other friend butted in, fixing his glasses while mentioning the idol he likes. “Her singing, dancing, just everything is perfect.” It almost seemed like steam was coming out of his nostrils.

“Idols, huh?” Meanwhile, Kunigami couldn't help but snicker at the mention of idols.

This provoked the glasses-wearing friend, who suddenly stood up, slamming his hand on the desk, and demanded, "And what are you trying to say?"

“You better watch it. You never know what these idols do backstage.”

“Tsk- alright, how about you tell us your ideal woman?” He argues back.

“Well, my ideal is…” Kunigami murmurs, bringing his hand to cup his chin while he thinks.

He starts describing his ideal woman, stating that almost everything about the curvy beauty sitting across from him completely differs from his ideal type. 

She is the exact opposite—a nerdy loner. She always has her head stuck in a book and consistently wears her winter uniform, complete with big black glasses and long, unstyled hair. It's a complete contrast.

“And also her personality must be…”

“There’s still more!?!?” His glasses friend said. “There’s no way your fantasy girl would ever exist like that.” He continued.

“At least ours are realistic ideals, right?” His bowl-cut friend includes.

And he knew that. Kunigami knew that no one existed exactly like he expected, yet if there were, he would fall for them in a heartbeat.

If only he knew…

--------

Unbeknownst to Kunigami, stuck in his train of thought he didn’t notice the sliding door opening, signaling someone walking in, until hearing a group of girls gushing over someone.

“So cute!”

“Did you get a boyfriend?”

Glancing around to see what the girls were looking at, he noticed a girl in the center gaining all the attention. 

And he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw her sitting there numerous times, book in hand, as her mind wandered into the world of fantasy. She was the usual plain-looking, chubby girl, but she was visibly displaying a new look—only this look was exactly what he mentioned to his friends three weeks back.

“I dig sweaters.” He had said.

And then a week later, “Short skirts are cute.”

Even the way she styled her hair matched his preference. 

It was undeniably her.

She made him feel something he couldn't quite ignore.

He was captivated, unable to break his gaze from her. A dryness settled in his mouth, and he swallowed hard, fighting the rush of saliva that threatened to overwhelm him.

Simultaneously, his heart began to race, skipping a beat amid the overwhelming sensation.

As soon as she drew Kunigami in, he began to question it. 

This change in her appearance—is it just a coincidence, or did she overhear what he and his friends were talking about? 

And if so, why would she change her look? 

And her appearance... It couldn't be linked to him... Could it?

Her eyes met his across the room, locking in a moment of unspoken connection before she flushed and averted her gaze, returning her attention to her book. Kunigami couldn't help but smile and quietly laugh to himself at the sweet, fleeting interaction.

‘Cute.’

Ever since returning from Blue Lock, Kunigami has undergone a noticeable transformation. The experience has left a lasting impact on him, altering his perspective and demeanor. 

The feeling of not being chosen and facing disqualification left him shattered. Soccer had been his ultimate passion and the central focus of his prime years. He aspired to be a source of inspiration for countless young aspiring athletes, but now he found himself at a crossroads, needing to seek a new career path.

He could always be a firefighter.

With him so focused on wanting to become a soccer player, he didn’t have time to socialize with his friends or interest in girls.

But now…

Strangely, Kunigami can’t seem to keep his eyes off a particular curvy beauty.

And that’s precisely what he couldn’t stop doing for almost the whole week until finally, Friday came around.

The school bell rings, signaling the final class of the day has finished.

Everyone is beginning to pack up and get ready to go. Kunigami walks toward one of his friends and says, “Yo, Yuuta, do you want to hang out?”

“Sato-kun! Please come with me to the student counseling room.” There, Sensi cuts in.

“Okay!” The bowled cut hair happily said, following after his teacher.

“And you, Daisuke?” Kunigami asks, turning to his glasses friend.

“Actually, I got tickets for my favorite idol concert. So I can't go.”

As his friend turned to leave, Kunigami nodded slightly and offered a small, understanding smile. "Ah, okay," he said softly, his gaze following his friend as they walked away. "See you around."

‘Everyone seems to have already left…’ He gingerly rests his hand on the polished surface of his desk, running his fingers along it as he double-checks for any forgotten items. As his gaze sweeps across the room, it falls upon a woman with alluring curves seated in her customary spot. 

Since the start of the week, Kunigami has been inexplicably fixated on her, following a noticeable transformation. He is also captivated by the presence of two other girls who surround her.

One of the girls turned to the curvy beauty with a hopeful expression, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Hey, could you do me a huge favor and cover for me this time? I know we're both supposed to be on cleaning duty, but you'll really be doing me a huge solid."

He could tell just by the shy girl's face that she was reluctant to agree.

“I-I guess I could…”

The group of girl's excitement overflowed as one exclaimed, "Yes! Thank you so much. I owe you one big time," beaming with gratitude. Her joy spread to her friend, who followed close behind, both wearing bright smiles.

Meanwhile, the shy girl let out a heavy sigh as she closed her book and began to tidy up the room.

‘What the hell? Why didn't she say no?’ He thought to himself, feeling unjust that the other girls had left her to clean alone. 

"Damn it,”  Kunigami couldn't bear to leave her there by herself.

She was suddenly startled by a loud thud from behind. As she turned around, she saw the man she longed for, dropping his bag and hastily overturning a nearby chair onto the desk.

"Kunigami-kun, what are you doing here?" She inquired, her voice tinged with shyness as she nervously gestured with her arms.

Hearing her say his name for the first time sent shivers down his spine.

"Uh yeah, I saw what happened. It was unfair for them to abandon you to handle all the work alone. You should have refused," He continued, methodically arranging the chairs. "Besides, I had nothing else to do."

Nervously, she bit her lower lip. Her eyes caught for a second his muscular biceps flexing under the short-sleeve bottom-up he wore as he lifted a chair with zero effort. 

She swiftly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before turning back around. A mix of relief and gratitude washed over her at his unexpected act of kindness and also a shame for catching herself lusting over his sexually frustrated physique.

She endured the relentless silence as they cleaned, each movement grating on her nerves. For more than a year, Kunigami Rensuke had consumed her thoughts. She had gone to great lengths to catch glimpses of him, whether watching him play soccer, following him through the hallways, or stealing glances at him during class. 

However, just as she was planning to confess her feelings with an envelope at hand, she received the devastating news that Rensuke was going to be away for a bit. The opportunity slipped through her fingers, leaving her to feel uncertain of when she would ever see him again.

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, she was irresistibly drawn to the vacant seat where he once sat. The memories of his presence, the sound of his voice, and the warmth he exuded lingered in her mind, making it impossible for her to avert her gaze from the void he had left behind.

One quiet morning, she settled into her usual seat with a captivating book in hand, fully engrossed in its pages. As she delicately adjusted her glasses, she turned to the next page, realizing that she was gradually adapting to life without Kunigami Rensuke by her side.

“Kunigami-sama! Long time so see.”

Her entire body tensed as the unexpected name reached her ears, causing her to tighten her grip on the book she held, feeling it crumple slightly under the pressure of her shaking hands. 

‘It couldn't be,’ She thought to herself, her mind racing with disbelief. Slowly lifting her gaze from the pages, she caught her breath as her eyes met the sight of an incredible man who made her heart flutter uncontrollably once more.

As he walked past her desk to join his friends, who were eagerly calling him over, she couldn't help but feel her buried emotions resurfacing, sparking a new sense of purpose within her.

As she walks to the closet, she hangs the broom on its hook. When she goes to put away the dustpan, it slips from her hand and falls to the ground. Unbeknownst to her, someone hears the noise, looks over, and catches a glimpse of her bending over to pick up the dustpan, unintentionally revealing her panties.

"Ah!" Startled by the sudden surprise, Kunigami, with a chair at hand, doesn't see where he is going, causing a loud crashing sound behind her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, truly," he insisted, his tone unwavering even as he struggled to steady himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to exude confidence as he rose to his feet, a slight wobble in his knees betraying his composed façade. His attention was momentarily diverted by an uncomfortable warmth at his nose, where a thin stream of blood had begun to trickle, leaving a crimson mark on his shirt. He glanced at her, desperate to assure her that everything was okay, unaware of the evidence of his struggle.

"Here, take this." She offered her napkin shyly. 

"Ah, thank you." He bashfully accepted the napkin, a hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks as he nervously scratched the back of his head and averted his gaze.

As she gracefully walks away, he raises his hand to wipe his nose absentmindedly. Still, as he does, he is suddenly captivated by the delicate and appealing fragrance lingering on the cloth. He finds himself pausing, drawn to the fabric as he inhales the alluring scent, each breath deeper than the last, succumbing to its intoxicating allure and lewd images his mind can't seem to stop fantasizing. Gosh, he’s a pervert.

It seemed as if some unseen force, perhaps fate itself, was deliberately tempting him, urging him to pay attention to details he had previously overlooked. Amidst all these captivating details, she stood out as the most enchanting.

With the chalkboard eraser at hand, she goes to do the last task of wiping down the board but can't reach the very top.

“Almost.”

She goes on her tippy toe, nearly reaching the top, but still can barely make it. 

“What am I going to do with you.”

A more substantial hand, resting against her elbow, moved across her arm and up her hand, clutching the eraser with painstaking care. The unexpected hand, which also rested against her arm, gave her the sensation of robustness and comfort.

“Here, let me.” He leaned toward her, and she could feel his warm breath brush against her ear as she finally allowed him to take the eraser and finish wiping what was left on the board.

“Thank you, Kunigami-kun.”

Her heart pounds in her chest as she turns around and devours Rensuke with her eyes. 

How his scent lingers surrounding her body—intoxicating her.

His auburn eyes gave away something she didn't know she would see directed toward her—the look of desire driving her to bite her lower lip.

His gaze flitted between her enigmatic eyes and the enticing fullness of her lips, which she habitually teased with gentle bites. The moment she caught sight of the deepening shadows in his irises, the playful nibbling paused, leaving an electric tension hanging in the air.

Suddenly calling her name, Kunigami spoke, “Want to come to my place?”

As Kunigami gently closed the door behind him with a soft click, silence enveloped the room, amplifying the tension in the air. 

Shyly gesturing for her to join him on the bed, where they settled side by side, their bodies close yet each lost in their thoughts, fingers fidgeting nervously with the fabric of their clothes. The moment's warmth was overshadowed by a palpable sense of embarrassment as they dared not meet each other's gaze, both acutely aware of the unspoken emotions swirling around them.

But this didn't deter them, they were drawn to each other. Their pinkies grazed softly, igniting a spark of courage that allowed them to entwine their fingers.

Kunigami was the first to break, whispering her name as he  leaned in while lifting their locked hand prompting her to peek, his gaze intense as he cradled the back of her neck with his hand, pulling her close. 

Their lips finally met in a fervent kiss, sending a jolt of electricity between them. The world around them faded away, and the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her, creating a heady intimacy that wrapped them in a cocoon of shared emotion and desire.

With utmost care and respect, he treated her as a true gentleman should. She was a delicate flower, fragile and ethereal, reminiscent of fine porcelain. At that moment, his thoughts became a swirling haze, struggling to articulate the depth of his admiration for her beauty and grace.

Warm soft flesh that with every time he touches her, shivers and goosebumps travel through her body as she reacts softly whimpering and moaning for him, for more.

Pulling away for a fleeting moment, their lips parted, leaving a thin, glistening thread of saliva connecting him to the panting, curvy beauty in front of him. His mind swirled in a dreamy haze, while a shadowy intensity clouded his eyes once again.

A sudden gasp slips from her lips, as Kunigami holds her, bringing her onto his lap while he slowly moves his mouth to her neck.

Very softly he began pressing kisses downwards to the crook of her neck. Growing more confident with the kisses when seeing the curvy beauty squirming, eyes closed with a flustered expression as his mouth drew small licks to her skin.

 He moves along her throat quickly, becoming lost in the moment. Her skin was cool and it tasted just as good as he imagined it would. Her scent filled his nostrils bringing him to a heated daze, as he thanked Faith for leading him to this moment.

When he got to the right spot below her ear, he felt her inhale sharply.

Slowing his kisses gently flicking his tongue out to lick at the spot, one of her hands gripping the front of his shirt, while one of his moves to cradle the back of her neck. Guiding her to tilt her head back to give him more access to the tender skin.

Beginning to focus solely on that spot, kissing and licking, then nipping lightly. Receiving soft moans from her.

Music to his ears.

She's never felt this way or experienced anything like this at all. Bodies pressed against each other, chest to chest, her thick thighs on either side of him, and his impossibly warm and solid arms comfortably embraced her soft form.

She couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the thought of doing this with Kunigami and being so close and wrapped around him it made her skin hypersensitive everywhere he touched.

His touch was feather-light, fingers lazily going down to her upper thigh massaging her thigh, doing nothing in which to soothe the ache between them.

Back arched, knuckles white from the tight grip she had on Kunigami’s uniform as stuttered gasps slipped from her lips.

He was gentle when he bit down on her sweet spot, planting his lips around it and sucking. Slowly began to suck harder and harder, she was certain there was a mark.

He pulled away slowly, inhaling sharply when he caught the bruise forming.

“I... Sorry. I think I went too far.” Raspily panted out, putting his forehead against the crook of her neck, his tanned, calloused fingers gripping her flesh, grasping her fabric ass, and crushing her against his chest.

“D-Dummy…”

She gently cupped the side of his face, drawing him closer. Kunigami could see the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her lips slightly swollen from pouting. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting a mix of longing and vulnerability as she leaned in, heart racing, to kiss this beautiful man who captivated her so completely.

“Oh-”

She cries out, feeling his hands gently knead and massage her breast.

“K-Kunigami…kun -Hmph!”

A rough hand held her chin, forcing her to face him fully to ignite a heated kiss. 

The sensations were electrifying, awakening every nerve as she surrendered to the strong arm wrapped around her waist. His fingers worshipped her curves, keeping her pinned to him.

He squeezed her breasts just enough to make her arch her back. Delicately drawing circles to her nipples through her shirt and bra.

Kunigami breaks from her lips, and his hand lifts her uniform shirt to her neck. The cool air hits her skin, giving her chills.

“A-Ah!” She softly moans, instinctively bringing her hand to grip his shirt.

“Cold?” Kunigami smirked.

Shyly nodding, she felt the mattress dip followed by his warm body over hers. He cups her soft titties with his rough calloused fingers, pinching her soft flesh causing them to peak even further at the contact.

Earning Kunigami a series of sweet breaths from the chubby Goddess underneath him.

She bit her lip when feeling Kunigami’s hot breath move closer to her swollen tits-covering each one in sloppy kisses, before pulling away while gently sucking in the skin.

Her hands, which had previously kept her lewd cries at bay and held up her blouse, now fisted his orange hair as his tongue traced her firm buds, writing out her name repeatedly.

She's going crazy, her tongue hanging out, her head in a daze, and her only thought is that she doesn't want her bliss to end.

“You’re perfect,” He raspy utters, taking her left nipple into his mouth and sucking it lightly, pulling it between his lips before letting it go.

"These," Kunigami moves to the right and keeps going, scraping the delicate bud with his teeth to indicate what he meant. "These are perfect."

Wrapping his lips once again around her right nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the juicy skin.

Soft moans and whimpers escaped her quivering mouth. She ached for this man desperately. Thighs rubbing together, panties soaked by her slick as she stares back at him with those doe-like eyes of hers. 

“Feels good?” Kunigami asked, popping off her tit while licking his lips.

“So good.” She hums, shyly feeling her cheeks heating up

“Are you really ok with this?” His warm, raspy voice teased her. 

He slowly removed the top of his uniform, gently loosening his tie and allowing it to hang freely around his neck before unbuttoning his shirt. Each undone button showed a glimpse of his chiseled, sun-kissed skin, catching her eye and making her heart speed up.

The sight of his perfectly sculpted physique, with defined muscles gleaming under the soft light, was utterly intoxicating. It clouded her thoughts and left her completely spellbound in his presence.

“It's ok… Because I want this too.” She confessed, doe-eyes visibly showing the desire she craved to receive from this man that it seemed like her irises were heart-shaped.

Damnit.

This wasn't good for Kunigami.

Why did you have to be so adorable?

With a warm, comforting grin that displays his adoration, Kunigami bends down trailing a line of kisses up her neck until he arrives at her mouth. Kissing her slowly, allowing himself the time to let his tongue explore every inch of her before they make sweet love.

However, it didn't stop there.

You and your gentleman entered a casual relationship that day. This arrangement is free of strings, removes worries about infidelity, and ensures that no one gets hurt.

Experiment with various positions, including doggie, mating press, and being pinned against a wall. And if you're feeling adventurous, add some cosplay and the setting—the school—to make it more interesting. Sneaking under the stairs for a nice fuck fest or at the top of the roof entranceway, offering the greatest sloppy toppy that made Kunigami's knees shake.

He's addicted to the feeling,  your mouth, tongue, hands just everything about his curvy goddess and the way she works him.

Cum and saliva dripped down the side of his length and down his balls as she sucked him thoroughly, even moaning around his flush tip for good measure. The sweet sensation overwhelmed his uncut hypersensitive dick, making him let out a hoarse moan but a soft whimper came out when she released him with a wet pop noise.

She giggles at his protest, letting up and ranking her nails and leaving sweet kisses on his inner thigh.

Just thinking about all they've done kept a grin on his face.

“Yo, Kunigami, why are you grinning like crazy?”

Snapping back from his drifting thoughts, he looked up at his friends, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “Hmm, no, it’s nothing,” he managed to reply, his voice slightly hesitant. He sat at his favorite spot atop his desk, a clutter of books and notes forming a protective circle around him, while his friends gathered around, their laughter and chatter creating a warm, familiar atmosphere.

Yet that didn't stop Kunigami from drifting back, thinking about what he’d do with the sexy beauty tonight.

‘Maybe we can try some cosplay today?’

Usually, she sat in her assigned seat across the room, deeply engrossed in a book. Today, however, that seat was strangely empty, and Kunigami felt puzzled. His curiosity was piqued when he caught a glimpse out the window. There, standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, was the curvy beauty he had been searching for. But she wasn’t alone; standing opposite her was a male student he had never seen before.

They were lost in a conversation that felt like a secret, their words just beyond his reach. The mystery twisted in his gut, a relentless urge to know what was being said. 

‘Who is that guy?’ he thought, a whirlwind of unease brewing inside him. 

“Is he her boyfriend?” The question lingered in the air, weighted with unspoken possibilities, stirring a mix of curiosity and jealousy that kept him on edge the entire time. He struggled to focus in class and at home, especially with her posing on his bed in his soccer jersey.

It should be stirring something deep within him, driving him to drop everything and rush to her like a man starved for connection. He ought to be showering her with compliments, easing her worries whenever she asks if he appreciates what she’s doing for him. Yet here he is, slumped in his desk chair, tangled up in his thoughts, hesitating.

Kunigami tried to reassure himself that it was just a situationship—nothing serious, nothing to worry about. Yet, with every passing moment, that gnawing feeling of jealousy consumed him. What if she found someone who cherished her even more than he did? 

No, he couldn’t let those thoughts spiral out of control.

Kunigami was sitting on the bed with her above him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Hey… that guy you were with earlier, by the cherry blossom trees… is he your boyfriend?” He glanced at her, searching for any sign in her expression.

Her heart raced at the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s okay; you can tell me if he is,” he added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and brushing his fingers against her cheek in a tender yet questioning gesture.

She was taken aback, her emotions boiling just below the surface. How could he be so oblivious to the depth of her feelings for him? Frustration coursed through her veins, and she fought to steady her breath. Did he truly not see what was right in front of him?

“I swear you're so dense, Kunigami-kun…” she muttered. Kunigami caught off guard, tilted his head to the side as she suddenly grabbed either side of his face and kissed him, initiating a full-on makeout session. 

Of course, he didn’t pull away; he could never do that. As they broke the heated kiss, he steadied her on his lap, still in shock. “W-What?” he stammered.

“You dummy! I wouldn’t do this with anyone I didn’t love!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “Didn’t you notice how much I’ve changed because of you? Every time you share your thoughts on your ideals and dreams, I listen intently, hoping to absorb your passion and make it a part of who I am. I want to become someone you can finally see and appreciate before you leave me again. That’s why I…."

Her voice trailed off as she noticed his flustered expression, his cheeks dusted with a pink hue. Realization dawned on her, and she became shy, trying to come up with an excuse for her sudden confession.

“Ah- no. W-What I mean…”

“What’s this feeling of relief?” Kunigami thought, realizing how happy he was that someone had fallen for him. It was especially surreal coming from the curvy beauty who had essentially confessed to loving him even before he left for Blue Lock.

“-Ah!” A gasp cut through her throat at the swift motion, she’s pressed against the mattress with Kunigami hovering over her.

“What is it Kunigami-Kun?”

“Sorry…”

He confidently pulls her legs toward him, his lips brushing against the delicate anklet adorning her ankle. Their eyes lock, and at that moment, the air is charged with an undeniable energy, awakening a thrilling response deep within her.

“Sorry for not noticing.”

Giving a final kiss at the tip of her toes, before he wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him closer to her and her slick heat.

Feeling the dizziness swirl in her head and the world around her blur, she caught sight of Kunigami. His hand was firmly wrapped around his cock, and the way he stroked it was both deliberate and intense, drawing her attention like a magnet until he bumped the head of his cock against her, pressing right at her swollen bud, responsive to his every move.

A low groan pulled from his throat with each inch of him she was able to take. A small roll of his hips had her sobbing and wiggling to get more of that delicious friction she ever so desired.

His hips leave hers, only for a second before slamming back against hers again, glistening juice leaving a connected thread that snaps against his own trimmed pubic hair.

Every slow action feels excessively slow for their desperate selves, yet each is deliberate. They understand how to prolong their pleasures and know the right spots to make them come undone.

Yet Kunigami held back, pretending he wasn't just as desperate for her, as if he truly had the self-control he feigned in her presence. And yet he wanted to throw all that away to throw her legs over his shoulder and fuck her in a mating press until they both passed out.

He just wants to make her completely his.

Shifting his angle, his cock was thrust deep inside of her, slow yet powerful, pleasure building and rising. 

"I won’t allow you to rest."

“Me too.”

The building in her belly reached a feverish pitch. Her abdomen became unbearably tight, her walls tightening around Kunigami’s cock, squeezing him and making him sigh in pleasure.

In a daze, she feels Kunigami's lips meet hers, igniting a passionate kiss that leaves no room for hesitation. She firmly locates his hands, grasping them with purpose as they connect in an exhilarating moment that demands attention.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was deafened by her cries of ecstasy. She whimpers, eyes rolling back and legs shaking, “Hm! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna…”

Mind going blank, lewd moans and ears ringing, her body finally succumbed to the pleasure he brought her. Her cunt clamped down on him, milking him for everything he got and forcing him deeper by insisting her legs remained locked around his waist as she continued to ride out her high. Kunigami nearly collapsed as a result. 

He breathes her name, an impassioned and urgent appeal that hovers in the air. Their foreheads meet, and for a minute, the world melts away—it's just the two of them, their breaths intertwining. Sweat glistens on their bodies, with drips falling from his moist bangs to her chest.

“I-I love you~”

Her eyes shoot open at his confession. 

“Me too. I love you so much,” she breathlessly admits, her voice trembling as she stares deep into his eyes, tears brimming in her own, shimmering like stars. With a rush of feeling, she pulls him closer, drawing him in for a kiss.

Kunigami uses this motion to slam his hips against hers one last time as he cums.

He kept himself steady as he emptied his last load, where he finally allowed himself to relax. As he enveloped her in his warm embrace, the softness of her curves pressed against him, creating a cocoon of intimacy. He felt a profound sense of comfort as if he were her safe haven, where worries melted away and only the enchanting rhythm of their heartbeats remained.

Oh, how she loves this man and how he means well with everything he's done, but with the sudden confession from the man she fell for, the heat flooded between her thighs once more.

She shifts their bodies, with her on top and a shocked Kunigami on his back. She straddles over him, Her fingers trailing along his toned chest. She gives him a lustful look and licks her lips.

“Now I believe someone owes me a night filled with restlessness; I hope it's not a lie.” She teases.

“Never.” He growls, his callus fingers digging into the fat of her thighs. 

Unable to resist her anymore, Kunigami confidently grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in closer, capturing her lips in a commanding kiss that left no doubt about his intentions.

In the end, someone who is willing to love the person for who they are is Kunigami Rensuke's ideal woman.

[diamondjester]

and i call this one “Failed and Forsaken”

Notes under the cut!

NOTES‼️: Seawatt not having his boots anymore because of his lack of placement in civilization. He comes from the chainmail layer and considers it his home, but his time as a master is what lead to his “safety” and security in society. Neither are fully home anymore

Notes 2: evbo’s the only one looking up at Seawatt (seavbo yaoi<3) because he was on even footing with him and saw him for who he was: a liar, a manipulator, a victim of the old man’s actions. Further; the old man looks downwards because he feels shame for the victims of his decision, and clown pierce looks away but his face is still visible because he was transparent. He never lied or justified his actions towards seawatt, he never thought of him. Neutral, uncaring

Notes 3: and the title! “Failed and Forsaken” covers how the three affected seawatt. The old man failed to save him when he condemned the fighter layer to stop clown, ultimately leading to everything seawatt ends up doing in and to parkour civilization. Clown killed him, plain and simple. He didnt care for what seawatt did to free him, he only cared that he was free now and seawatt was the first to go. Forsaken. And evbo is both! What i really like about the seavbo relationship is how evbo is self centered and heavily biased, when seawatt told him his backstory all he did was question and deny that the old man couldve done that because he’d been nice to him. He failed to see outside of his own view and see seawatt for what he truly was: a victim. Evbo had been a victim of the system too, but viewed seawatt with his higher standing from when they’d met even after he became champion. After seawatt died he just… didn’t care. He moved on. Failed *and* forsaken.

[cozmowrites]

Seven Minutes in Heaven?

The room was energized, red solo cups in hand and laughter bouncing off the walls. You hadn't even wanted to come to this party, but Ashido's pleading eyes and the promise of good snacks had been enough to convince you. Now, you sat cross-legged on the carpet, awkwardly watching as the group began to organize a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

"Okay, okay!" Ashido clapped her hands, voice carrying over the chatter. "Rules are simple: two names are drawn, and you spend seven minutes in the closet. No backing out unless you're a coward!"

You rolled your eyes but stayed seated. You guys played for a little bit, silly pairings like Uraraka and Tsuyu, Sero and Todoroki, Kirishima and Kaminari, though, no one has even been caught kissing yet.

"And the next name is... (Y/n)!" Ashido declared dramatically.

You froze, the heat rising to your cheeks as everyone's attention shifted to you. "What? No! Pick someone else."

"Nope, no take-backs! And now for your partner..." Ashido reached into the bowl, a sly grin spreading on her face as she pulled out a slip and read it before calling out. "Bakugou!"

Your stomach flipped. Of all people, it had to be him. You dared a glance at Bakugou, whose expression was irritation. His crimson eyes narrowed as he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

"No way," he grumbled.

"C'mon, Bakugou!" Kaminari teased, slapping him on the back. "Be a good sport!"

"Don't be lame," Kirishima added with a grin. "It's just seven minutes."

Bakugou clicked his tongue but pushed off the wall. "Tch. Fine." He turned to you, his sharp gaze making your heart race. "You coming or what?"

Your feet moved before your brain caught up, trailing after him toward the closet. The group cheered and laughed behind you, Mina's voice counting down dramatically as the door shut with a soft click.

+++

The closet was small and barely lit, the outside colored lights of the party could be seen through the cracks of the door., The scent of old wood filling the air. You pressed your back against one wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Bakugou leaned against the opposite side, arms crossed and looking utterly unamused.

"This is stupid," he muttered.

You nodded, though he couldn't see, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until you decided you couldn't take it anymore. "We don't have to do anything, you know. We can just wait it out."

He snorted. "Like I was gonna do anything."

You rolled your eyes, the initial nerves fading as his usual attitude surfaced. "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in the faintest smirk. "What? You think I'd waste my time on some dumb party game?"

You crossed your arms, a smirk of your own forming. "And yet, here you are."

He scoffed. "I was forced to obviously." The silence that followed wasn't as suffocating this time, tension settling between you.

"So," you started hesitantly, "you really didn't want to come either, huh?"

"Nope." He glanced at you, his expression softening just a fraction. "Raccoon eyes dragged me here. Said I need to 'loosen up' or some crap like that."

You laughed softly. "Same. She's good at that."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the awkwardness easing with every passing second. Then Bakugou shifted, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. Time felt slow. Seven minutes should've been up but it wasn't It's barely been a minute.

"You really hate this kind of stuff, don't you?" He asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You hesitated but nodded. "Yeah. It's just.. too much sometimes. I don't like being the center of attention."

He hummed, his gaze thoughtful. "Then why'd you agree to play?"

"Didn't really have a choice." You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Didn't want to be the buzzkill."

Bakugou frowned, his brows knitting together. "That's dumb. If you don't want to do something, don't do it. Screw what anyone else thinks."

His bluntness caught you off guard, you didn't know how to respond. But then you smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. "Thanks, Bakugou. You could've done the same too. Skipped on the party."

He blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he wasn't sure how to handle your gratitude. "Whatever. Just saying."

The silence returned, but this time, it was almost comfortable. You found yourself studying him, the way the dim light cast shadows across his sharp features. He really was kind of handsome, in a rough-around-the-edges sort of way. You kind of wanted to kiss him, but being caught like that would be terrible for the both of you. You were counting quietly in your head. 2 minutes passed. Time was extremely slow.

"What?" He asked, catching you staring.

You quickly looked away, your face heating up. "Nothing!"

He smirked, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

He leaned forwards towards you. "W-what are you doing-?" You inhaled sharply as his hands were on either side of you. Your knees were in-between his and he was so close. You could feel his breath on your skin. It made the hair's on your arm stick up and the blush on your face deepen. You guys were just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

His crimson eyes gleamed with mischief. You weren't sure if he was serious or just messing with you. Either way, your heart was pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

"Relax," he said, his voice low and teasing. "What's got you so jumpy?"

You swallowed hard, your back pressing further against the wall. "Y-you're too close, that's what!"

He chuckled, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "You're acting like I'm gonna bite."

You glared at him, trying to muster up confidence despite the way your cheeks burned. "Wouldn't put it past you."

That earned a genuine laugh from him, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. He stayed there for a beat longer, his gaze dipping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

"Seven minutes is a long time," he murmured, his tone softer now.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. His presence was overwhelming, his proximity intoxicating.

Then, he leaned in closer.

"Unless you tell me to stop," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. You didn't want him to stop.

Your voice was caught in your throat, but your lack of protest was answer enough for him. Bakugou hesitated for the briefest moment, as if giving you one last chance to push him away. When you didn't, he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was softer than you ever expected from someone so intense.

It was slow at first, unsure and nervous, but when you instinctively leaned into him, he was sure. One hand moved to cradle the back of your head, while the other pressed against the wall near your waist, keeping you steady as he deepened the kiss. You had moved your arms around his neck, to keep him in place.

Your heart raced, every nerve in your body alight with the feeling of him so close. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, but perfect against yours. You weren't sure how long it lasted—seconds, minutes, it all blurred together—but when he finally pulled away, you were both breathless.

His forehead rested lightly against yours. He gave you soft kisses, then another, long passionate kiss.

Then the door opened.

It made you both freeze.

Ashido stood there, her grin wicked as she took in the sight of you and Bakugou, still pressed close together, as you both scrambled to stop kissing.

"Well, well, well," she teased, hands on her hips. "Didn't think Seven Minutes in Heaven would actually live up to its name!"

You scrambled to put some distance between you and Bakugou, but his arm stayed firmly around your waist. He shot Ashido a glare, his voice low and irritated. "Shut up, raccoon eyes."

But before you both could get up so the game could continue, Ashido yelled out that they have their first couple of the game and you hid into his chest. You two were the only interesting talk of that game. And the rest of the night was easier than the beginning.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

Mimzy

Mimsy was an interesting one to work on. I wanted to make sure she looked inhuman like the other characters, but without making too big of a change. Canon Mimzy basically just has the black eyes and sharp teeth.

She's apparently loosely based off a chicken, which is why she has a hooked nose. But I knew pretty early on that I wanted to use peacock colors. It also helps increase the color variety of the cast by reducing the red.

More notes under the cut, including human Mimzy

Face: I gave her face markings that resemble running mascara, because I figured she wanted to be a showgirl or movie star or something. But she kept getting rejected, so she cried a lot. And apparently "mimsy" was a word coined by Lewis Carroll and is a blend of "miserable" and "flimsy".

She has vampire fangs for two reasons:

1. She leeches off others. Alastor was missing for 7 years, and the first thing she does is dump her problems on him.

2. In the 1920s, there was an equivalent to femme fetale called "Vamp". Vamps were more or less extra promiscuous versions of flappers.

Hair: An iconic 1920s hairstyle was finger waves. I made them a bit loose, because I didn't like how it looked plastered to her head.

I know she has a tattoo in the show, but I don't know how important it is for her to have it. So I just didn't bother with it. If it becomes significant, I'll add it back in.

Mimzy said that she and Alastor ran in the same circles while they were alive. He frequented the club that she sang at. But she also sounds like she's from New York, so I'm not sure how/why they ended up in the same place.

She died in the 1920s in her late 20s or early 30s. Not sure how she died.

1920s fashion--

I'll try to keep this brief. You know the stereotypical flapper dress? With the fringes? That wasn't really a thing. The style was slim, dropped waist, and no curves. The clothes weren't heavily tailored and just draped over the body like a potato sack. Fringes happened occasionally, but not often. More common was beading, pleats, tiers, and ruffles. The skirts were shorter than in previous generations, but they were still below the knee. Sometimes the stockings would be rolled down so the edge was visible--Scandalous!

While I appreciate the body diversity with Mimzy, she is honestly not an ideal choice to show off 1920s fashion. Plus sized women would utilize vertical lines to help create the illusion of thinness. So I changed canon Mimzy's film strip motif and made it vertical instead. Historically, the top would not be so form fitting, but I'm claiming that modern influences got to her a little bit. But in her human design I'm claiming it's just stylized.

The stereotypical flapper dress better resembles showgirls and lingerie, imo. Not entirely sure what to think of that, but there it is.

Makeup--There are two makeup styles to go over. Regular and movies.

Regular is fairly straight forward. Pale skin. Black eyeshadow(or a color that matched the eyes). Thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows that look kinda sad. Lips with an emphasized cupid's bow. Rosy blush on the center of the cheeks.

Movie makeup: I went down a rabbit hole with this topic. It gets pretty interesting, but I am simplifying a lot. I also only know the basics.

The 20s was a transition period of the types of film used. There was the older orthochromatic/blue-sensitive film, which struggled to pick up warmer colors. Reds ended up darker than they really were, and tended to emphasize facial blemishes. This was counteracted by lighting and makeup. They used Arc lights, which gave off a blue-green light, were noisy, and hard on the actor's eyes.

The idea was basically to wash everything in blue light, to counter any reds present. Then they just had to worry about values. White or creme makeup was used to even out the skin tone (At least for white people, didn't find anything for other skin tones, but I imagine the basic idea would be similar). Then dark blues were used to contour the face, enhance definition/contrast, and mimic blush. Light blues would act as highlights. The lips would vary based on if you wanted a natural look or not. Greens and yellows could get a natural to dark lipstick appearance. If red was used, it could only get a dark lipstick look. Overall, the actors would have looked pretty weird.

If regular makeup colors were used, then everything would end up looking too dark.

Panchromatic film started becoming more widespread by the late 1920s. It had a wider range of sensitivity(but was still more blue sensitive than the human eye, which is more yellow sensitive. Reds were difficult for film even into the 21st century. That could lead me into a tangent about the Raimi Spiderman films, but I'll hold it in). They were able to switch to incandescent lighting, which were quieter(important for the rise of "talkies") and easier to maintain. The way makeup was previously used in movies was essentially invalidated.

(Below)I'm not sure what type of film the left side was designed for exactly, possibly panchromatic(because the green and purple is an interesting choice) or early color. But the right side is for blue-sensitive films.

I guess I bring this up because it's interesting, and helps me justify her blue-green color scheme.

I think that's everything relevant.

(edit notes will go here if needed)

[contamination-zone]

warning im a yapper

hello ummm just wanted to say!!! i really like the dynamic you give fresh and nightmare/color with the whole “cat who goes to different houses to get fed twice” thing. nightmare and his weird cat that he has probably locked in a basement a few times. color and this guy he picked off the road because he looks weird and decided he can solve this mess. fresh does not have any strong personal feelings towards either of them.

i very much so like the comic thing where nightmare and ccino were talking about fresh and ccino thought he was a kitten cat,,, no he is not but he acts like one. “he keeps crawling on my lap” that is a grown man get him away!!!! he has a dog cage i think that he is put in sometimes for naughty behavior. he doesn’t really care because he’s allowed his gameboy though. do you think nightmare ever sprays him with water when he does something bad. and this is like a grown adult. what

maybe i just like the trope of dehumanization (bonus if with someone who’s weirdly chill with it like fresh) but whatever,,, your art!!!! it gives me life!!! i very much enjoy the pixely type style and how freak you draw fresh. he’s a fucking creature he is. something is wrong with that guy. and i love him soooo much. so creature. he’s the kind of guy to do that thing where you walk on all fours up the stairs.

AND the way you characterize him is!!!! so good!!!!!!!!! he is so fucked up and weird and terrible and manipulative!!!!!!! he takes advantage of others’ empathy and feelings because he has very little of it himself and whenever he does feel it he does not like it!!!!!!! he looks at a guy with a savior complex and goes yeah i can mentally fuck him up for the next seven months to get something cool i want. he’s just actually terrible and i love him for that.

i also!!! don’t know too much about CB but i feel that fresh’s dynamic with them (him?? i forgor) is very interesting from what i have seen!!!!!! and their shimeji is very cute i still need to download it but i like it a lot :3

OKAY UHHH BYE!!!!! I LIKE UR ART A LOT…… HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!! 10/10 fresh posting on your blog love him a lot he is my wife (he feels nothing towards me)

THANK YOU!!! I see you mass reblog things sometimes it makes me giggle :-]

I yammer back...

Glad you like the dynamics haha X] Fresh having very little personal feelings about people is fun and interesting to me. As someone who has trouble connecting and low empathy, its nice to depict someone like me. [Guy interacting with people who are a Lot more invested than he is ghghg]

Fresh would only accept being put in the cage because he can teleport out. Anything like that is only for the Aesthetic, which I think Nightmare would still be down for. Shove that thang into some awful little crate, as a treat. [Honestly I think Fresh would like to get in some nice dog crate with a blankie. Small hide / den thing to nap in :-]]

ALSOOOO dehumanization and freak who doesn't mind is my favorite dynamic <333. Fresh doesn't mind because... he isn't a monster? or a human? And he doesn't have a human/monster centric view of the world. Being seen as a human/monster isn't in anyway important to him, because he doesn't seen it as better/worse. He is the way he is, why does it matter?

Its like, I don't think a cat has very strong opinions on the fact it isn't a man. I also think Fresh is incredibly self-centered and when he's on a high point, sees himself as above humans/monsters. Of course he's not seen as human, he's Fresh! he's a sick-nasty parasite! way cooler. [annnddd way cooler that he gets to eat dog-treats. heck yeah!!]

Also I drew up a little thing with CB and Fresh. Its ahh, I like them a lot I just get nervous speaking about them because its suuuch a oc & canon are besttties that it makes me feel a bit cringe... I also get nervous because CB and Fresh have a very, toxic?? friendship.

Fresh is very possessive and strange about it, because this is his Only friend and he has very dysregulated emotions. Not being able to feel positive emotions often makes it so when he does, he gets very odd about it. So its a lot of... trying to keep CB to himself, at the detriment to CB's goals and ambitions. [CB is trying to track his family down, and Fresh uh. knows. where they are. and is not telling him :-)]

I dunno I think Fresh being genuinely friends with someone but also an awful person about it is like, sorely missing from the fandom landscape. He's a bad person but bad people can still form meaningful relationships and!!! I think that should be explored :-]

[They do eventually get somewhere more healthy. As in, Fresh's whole Thing is revealed, a lot of shinanigans happen, CB lives with his family and Fresh and CB reconnect and become friends again, just with like. Fresh trying actively to do "good person things" to make sure CB's family doesn't shoo him off [I ADOREEE good actions for morally ambiguous reasons!!!], and CB with the understanding that his best friend is Kinda a Freak.]