#to be clear it was not this bad when it started. when it started it seemed like normally maybe slightly out there conclusions he was drawing

[ssahotchnerr]

reader helping aaron relax and make out session in the hot tub!!!!!!

hot and heavy

😵‍💫❤️‍🔥🦋!!!! cw; fem!reader, established relationship, playful teasing, a lot of heated kissing, very suggestive content, partial nudity 🫢 wc; 1.2k nsfw - mdni

It didn't take long during your conversation with Aaron for it to become clear that the case he'd just finished had been awful.

You could hear the stress in his voice, the kind that only came from days filled with long hours, endless frustration, a sad ending. There was a tightness in his words, a strain that made it clear just how much he needed to let go and turn his brain off for a while.

And so, once you hung up, you quickly devised a plan to relieve some of those tensions upon his arrival home. Or rather, a nice surprise to return to.

You strategically selected his favorite robe of yours - a short silk one that nearly floated atop your skin - and a bathing suit that barely covered up what it was made to.

You were in the middle of tying up your hair when the familiar sounds of his arrival home echoed up the stairs and into your bedroom. He called out -

"Sweetheart?"

His gaze lifted at the sight of your approach, you having rushed downstairs to greet him. He was in the middle of getting settled when he caught sight of you and froze.

He was far from subtle, letting his gaze linger over you for a moment, breath catching in his throat. Hesitantly with transparent amusement, he asked, "What're you up to?"

"Heading for the hot tub," you answered nonchalantly, making your way to the door that led to the backyard. "Thought it'd do you good to relax. Go get changed, I'll meet you out there."

As if he needed any further persuading, you turned towards the door, cleverly dropping your robe and heading out. A clear indication you'd make it worth his while.

The message was well received. You felt his intense gaze follow your form, not leaving until you were completely out of view.

The steam was curling up at the surface, illuminated by the blue-toned lighting underneath. You got in, enjoying the instant warmth of the water enveloping you, the night air chilled in juxtaposition. You slouched a bit deeper, the water pooling atop your shoulders.

You weren't alone for long; you opened your eyes at the sound of the door sliding open, Aaron joining you in record time.

"C'mon, get in." You pushed your forearms back to lift yourself out of the tub, sitting on the edge with your feet remaining inside. You also indulged yourself, checking him out also. His torso, the veins protruding in his forearms, his muscles openly flexing as he moved about.

He gave you an almost offended look. "And you're getting out?"

"Just hush and listen to me," you ordered lightly, playfully glaring your eyes at him.

He obeyed, getting in. You gestured for him to come near; he sat with his back to you, situated between your legs.

After ensuring he was comfortable, you started working at his shoulders. Really pressing your fingers into his skin, kneading at the lingering tension. It immediately caused a groan to leave his parted lips.

"Feel good?"

He nodded, his head falling back in satisfaction, practically involuntary.

"God honey," you sighed, referencing the case, the one that had achingly kept him away from you for a week. Your eyebrows drew into a troubled line at his stiff muscles. "That bad?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, his eyes closed as he leaned back into your touch. "Amongst other things. Needed you."

You laughed softly, leaning forward to press your lips behind his ear. The touch lingered for a moment before you whispered, "Well, good thing I'm here now."

You continued to massage his shoulders, paying attention to the areas that held the most rigid of his knots. You worked slowly, easing the pressure with gentle, circular motions. You prolonged each squeeze, each touch, hoping it would relax him while simultaneously rile him up in all the right ways. Long intimate contact such as this, after not seeing each other, easily comparable to foreplay.

And it was working. After a minute or two, he turned around, eyes locking onto yours. You raised an eyebrow, biting down onto your lip to hide your smirk. The glint in your eyes, however, certainly noticeable.

Aaron reached for you, using one arm to pull you down and onto his lap. He shifted to the side of the tub, allowing his back to be against it this time.

You looked at him, questionably yet innocently, awaiting his next move.

"You want to help me relax, don't you?" His voice was low, eyes dark with a small smile tugging at his lips.

You hummed in confirmation, quickly tracing a finger along the stubble producing at his jaw, unshaven for a day or two. Brushing away a lone water droplet that had come from the bubbling surrounding the two of you, you added, "I'll do anything."

He leaned in and kissed you, hard. Although expected, a surprised squeak still left you. Your arms found home around his neck and you pressed your front firmly to his, ever so subtly grinding into him as you forced yourself closer. You needed to be as close as you could manage.

His lips moved against yours in practiced yet feverish ease, with both the equal amounts of gentle and rough. He held onto your waist tightly, his fingertips digging into your skin, forceful enough to leave an imprint.

Your hands were soon all over him. To the nape of his neck, back to his shoulders, his broad chest. Indulging in the way his toned, strong muscles felt. Aaron's breath picked up, heavy into your mouth.

You knew each and every one of Aaron's scars. Location, how they felt, size. Your fingertips landed on a newfound, raised line, alerting you out from the haze you had entered.

"This is new," you stated against his lips, pulling away with a swollen pair of your own. Despite the darkness, you could see the red scrape, identifying its freshness. Panting, you manage to say, "It got physical?"

"It's fine. Nothing really. Something we can worry about later." He readjusted you on his lap, against the ongoing currents - again driving you further into him as his lips transferred to your neck.

His plan was to switch the topic, and he was doing a fantastic job. You turned to putty within a second, especially when his lips traveled down to your chest.

Your head fell back to give him more space to work, he sucked bruises into your skin. He took his time, wanting them to be as distinguished and dark as they could - you were his.

You frantically clutched his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. There was no feeling like kissing Aaron. It was exhilarating. You had to remind yourself you were grounded and not floating amongst the clouds.

Desperate sounds were leaving the back of Aaron's throat, hard under you, and they were driving you wild. Your body was practically shaking with need, and an uncomfortable layer of sweat was building on your skin. Hot from both the temperature of the tub and from the heated exchange. You obviously chose to ignore it.

His fingers expertly found the string holding your top, fumbling a moment before tugging it loose.

"Aaron," you laughed with a touch of warning in your voice, peering over your shoulders as your top dipped. No need to give the neighbors a show if you could help it.

"What?" He chuckled darkly, his breath fanning hot. He pried the wet top off you, discarding it onto the floor as your hands dove underneath the water to his waistband. "No one can see. Besides, we have high fences for a reason."

[lyonnerileyauthor]

your orc mechanic 🔧

your car wouldn't start this morning. fuck. but your last mechanic, he always talked down to you, and tried to sell you things you knew you didn't need.

you'd heard about this new guy, an orc, who worked out of his garage. you didn't think orcs were car guys, but you learn something new every day.

you go in, ready to turn down all the extra services he wants to charge you. instead, he takes your keys, pulls the car into his garage, and invites you to take a look with him.

the starter plugs are bad, he says after only a few minutes of poking around the engine. the cost is parts plus labor. he glances at you over his shoulder, and one of his big tusks lifts as he gives you a lopsided grin. actually, I'll throw in the labor.

he must really be trying to make a good impression in town, you think, as he gets to changing out the starter plugs. but he watches you as he works, that grin climbing higher and higher on his cheek.

you might have an oil leak, he says after he's almost done, and points to a spot on the floor. sure enough, there's a dribble of oil there. I can fix that for you, though.

how much? you ask, because you don't have cash to throw at your car right now.

it's on me.

well, that seems rather generous, but you won't turn it down.

he takes off his shirt, exposing an incredibly large body, with a full chest and a thick belly, all of it coiled muscle under a layer of protective fat. you can't help but stare as he drops down onto the floor and slides under your car, his knees parting as he works. the massive bulge between his legs is obvious, even with loose jeans.

jeez, he's packing.

you wait patiently as he works, trying not to stare but unable to tear your eyes away. when he slides out from under the car again, he catches you in the act, and finally he shows all his teeth as he grins.

do you like what you see? he climbs up to his feet.

your mouth is painfully dry, but you have to admit the truth. yes, of course he's absolutely gorgeous. he laughs when he hears it, and closes the distance between you.

I was hoping you would, because I like what I see.

he tilts up your chin with one grease-stained hand, leaving his fingerprints behind and marking you as his. he has to lean down to reach you, and you find yourself rising up on your toes to meet him.

the orc's kiss is fierce, consuming. it's new to you to navigate around his tusks, but they frame your face perfectly as he takes your mouth, devouring you, conquering you. he pushes you up against the garage wall, making the tools hanging there rattle. the lump in his jeans presses against you as his hand ventures up under your shirt.

you explore him just as ravenously, feeling his sturdy body, the tree-trunk size of his arms. without a second glance at it, the orc clears everything off the work table and picks you up by your ass, setting you on it.

show me, he growls low in his throat. so you obey, taking off your shirt, then shucking your own pants. his pupils are huge and blown-out as he unbuckles his own belt, reaching into his jeans to pull out his cock. he strokes it as he watches you.

touch yourself. you can't help but do as he says, finding yourself already wet. his hand speeds up, pre-cum dripping from that green cockhead as he pins you to the table with his eyes.

are you ready? he advances on you, dragging you to the edge. reflexively you spread your legs, and he smirks as he lines himself up with you. I hope you can take me.

you hope so, too.

but you're so slick, so ready for him, that the soft head of his cock pushes through. you grab onto his arms as he continues guiding himself inside you, biting his lip as he tries not to plunge in deep.

what a perfect pussy. the orc grunts as he squeezes even more of that enormous beast inside you. swallowing me up so well.

you shake and moan as he reels his hips back, then slides in even deeper, until he's fully sheathed in you. you clutch him so tight your nails dig into his strong arms as he starts to fuck you. he kisses you, swallowing all of your moans and cries as he sends you spiraling up higher and higher.

then, all at once, you crash to the earth in a burst of pleasure. your scream fills up the garage as he slams into you once, twice more. he yanks his cock out and his cum arcs out, covering you.

your orc mechanic takes a deep, shuddering breath. now you smell like me, he says with satisfaction, rubbing his cum all over you. I guess I had better fix that oil leak now.

[lightseoul]

a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

[youngsadlesbian]

hi, one of my favorite writers!

i never noticed your requests were open, so is it okay if you write about wanda x fem!reader where they have been in a relationship for almost 6 years, the longest in their friend group, their friends assume the worst because they love eachother like bestfriends. what i mean is that when their friends see them sleeping together, they both face the other way. or when they watch a movie, their isn’t much snuggling. but when they’re actually alone, they feel more comfortable with eachother, that their friends walk in on them being clingy to eachother. being a lowkey couple isn’t so bad compared to what their friends think type of trope!

thank you for your time, and i love your works. xo !

BEHIND CLOSE DOORS

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: after nearly six years together, your relationship with wanda is the longest-lasting one in your friend group. but to everyone else, you two don’t look like the typical couple. you don’t snuggle at movie nights, you sleep facing opposite directions at group sleepovers, and your friends quietly assume your spark is gone. little do they know, you and wanda are simply a lowkey couple—comfortable and deeply in love when the world isn’t looking. but when your friends accidentally stumble upon one of your private, clingy moments, they realize just how wrong they’ve been.

a/n: i had this request in my inbox for a long time and only noticed it these days. sorry for the delay and i hope you like it.

word count: 1,1k

warnings: fluff <3

“You and Wanda are basically like an old married couple,” Kate teased, nudging you with her elbow as you all sat around the coffee table for game night.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” you replied, raising a brow as you stacked your deck for Uno.

“No! Not bad, just…” Kate trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words.

“Predictable,” Yelena finished bluntly, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I mean, you don’t even sit next to each other during movie nights,” Natasha chimed in, smirking from her spot on the couch.

Wanda, who was sitting across from you, laughed lightly. “So? We’ve been together for six years. We don’t have to be glued to each other.”

“Yeah, but where’s the passion?” Kate asked, gesturing dramatically. “The fire? The hand-holding and constant cuddling?”

“We’re not 16,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wanda.

Your friends dropped the topic after that, but you could still see the curious glances they exchanged. You and Wanda didn’t fit their idea of what a couple should look like, but you didn’t really care. You and Wanda were fine just the way you were.

Living together for the past three years had only made your relationship stronger. You and Wanda had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that worked perfectly for both of you.

Your mornings started with quiet moments—Wanda making coffee while you scrambled eggs, sharing small smiles across the kitchen. Evenings were spent unwinding on the couch, reading, or binge-watching whatever show caught your attention that week.

You didn’t feel the need to be overly affectionate in public or around your friends because your bond didn’t rely on outward displays. It was in the little things: Wanda setting aside the last slice of pizza for you, or you remembering to buy her favorite tea when the supply at home ran low.

But your friends didn’t see those moments. They only saw the surface.

The first time your friends openly voiced their concerns, it was at Natasha’s apartment after a late-night movie marathon.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Yelena started, her tone making it clear she was about to say something controversial.

“Here we go,” Wanda muttered under her breath, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“It’s just… are you two, like, okay?” Yelena asked hesitantly.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been together for so long, but you don’t act like it,” Kate interjected. “You’re more like… roommates or best friends.”

Wanda exchanged a look with you, her lips twitching in amusement. “Just because we don’t make out in front of you doesn’t mean we’re not fine.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We’re just not into PDA. That’s all.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two even hold hands.”

At that, you and Wanda burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Wanda said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You guys are ridiculous.”

But the concern on their faces didn’t fade.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you and Wanda finally addressed the conversation.

“Do you think they really believe we don’t love each other?” you asked, pulling on a sweatshirt as you got ready for bed.

Wanda was already under the covers, scrolling through her phone. “Probably. But who cares? We know the truth.”

You climbed into bed beside her, resting your head on her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of funny.”

“They think we’re boring,” Wanda said with a dramatic sigh, wrapping an arm around you.

You laughed. “If only they knew.”

Because behind closed doors, you and Wanda were anything but boring. You loved snuggling up during quiet afternoons, Wanda’s fingers tracing patterns on your arm as you watched TV. You teased each other endlessly, sharing inside jokes that no one else would understand.

And when it came to physical affection, it wasn’t something you felt the need to flaunt. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—it was in every kiss goodnight, every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you” before falling asleep.

\*/

The incident happened a week later. Your friends had come over to your apartment to hang out, and you had no idea they were still around when you wandered into the kitchen to find Wanda.

She was standing by the counter, scrolling through her phone, when you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.

“Hi,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Wanda smiled, setting her phone down to place her hands over yours. “Hi.”

“I missed you,” you admitted, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You were in the living room five minutes ago,” Wanda teased, turning her head to kiss your cheek.

“Still missed you,” you said with a grin.

The sound of a dramatic gasp made both of you freeze. You turned to see Kate, Yelena, and Natasha standing in the doorway, their jaws practically on the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Kate said, pointing a finger at you two. “You do like each other!”

Yelena burst out laughing. “This is amazing. I feel like I’ve just uncovered the world’s greatest secret.”

Natasha smirked. “So much for ‘just best friends.’”

Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Get over it, guys.”

But your friends didn’t let it go. For the rest of the night, they wouldn’t stop teasing you about how “different” you were when no one was watching.

After that, your friends seemed to accept that your relationship didn’t need to look like anyone else’s. They stopped questioning why you and Wanda weren’t overly affectionate in public, and they stopped assuming the worst.

And while you still preferred to keep most of your relationship private, you didn’t mind letting a little bit of your affection show.

“See?” Wanda said one day, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked into Joe’s Bar. “A little PDA won’t kill us.”

You grinned, squeezing her hand. “It’ll definitely keep them off our backs.”

From then on, your friends never doubted the love between you and Wanda again. Because whether you were holding hands in public or sharing quiet moments at home, your connection was undeniable.

[sinstear]

abby dressing your daughter up exactly like her, just to see your reaction 🥹🤲🏻

ohkay fluff! yes, we love. this is perfect 🫶🏻 kinda all over the place.

abby’s memorized your work schedule completely since she started dating you, and she knows that in exactly 25 minutes she’s going to hear the keys in the door, you kicking off your shoes once you step inside and hang up your jacket and bag on the coat rack, and will be in search for her and your daughter.

tying the hair band around her hair once she finished the braid, abby smiled and kissed her forehead gently. “and what do we tell mama when she gets home?”

“uhm, to not mention the candy drawer beside your bed!” your daughter giggled and rubbed her eyes.

abby’s eyes widen and she’s quickly shaking her head with a nervous laugh. “not that, baby, anything but that, she won’t let me live it down.”

“eating too much candy is bad for you, mommy.” she huffed and abby could already hear your voice in the back of her head when you once told her that your daughter huffs, pouts and frowns just like abby does.

“i birthed her, and she copies everything you do.”

“it is, but—”

“you have to be in good health to take me to the park and to see the ducks, you can’t eat any more candy.”

“oh, is that right?” abby laughed softly.

“yep, i say so.”

before abby could reply, both sets of ears perk up at the sound of the key sliding into the lock, and the jiggle of your key chains had abby smiling. “remember what we said?”

“tell mama we love her!” she cheered quietly and brushed away wispy bits of hair in her face with a grumble. “and keep the candy a secret?”

“exactly, we’re learning, baby.” abby laughed and kissed her head a final time.

you’ve barely stepped foot in the apartment when you feel a force against both your legs, and you smile tiredly when you look down to find your daughter snuggling her face against your pant-covered leg. “well, hello there, baby girl— what are you wearing?” you blinked, looking at her outfit, finally realizing. 

“i look like mommy!”

you notice the light shade of green cargo pants, similar to abby’s but not the exact same, and you bite back a laugh when your eyes peer up to the black long sleeve shirt; abby usually wears white or a light green, and to finally top it all off, you notice the braid. “it’s very neat, i remember doing yours for you.” you commented softly towards your wife.

“years of practice, babe.” abby winked at you before smiling. “what do you think? little mini me, huh?”

“you look very adorable, baby,” your smile widens when she giggles and wraps her arms around your leg again. “now, let me take a shower, change out of these clothes and then we can take some pictures for grandad.”

“grandpa!”

“you and dad spoil her way too much,” abby commented as she watched your daughter run back into the living room. “remember the day she was born and he bought her an entire dollhouse?”

“ah, yes, jerry did have good taste in dollhouses, wasn’t it pink and purple?”

“something like that,” abby nudged your shoulder with hers and kissed your cheek. “which reminds me, dad’s coming over next week, was on about helping me fix the broken sink in the bathroom.”

“may i remind you that you broke it.”

“it was an accident!”

“you rested on the sink, trying to do a push up, or whatever the excuse you used was, and broke it, abby.” you deadpanned and shook your head.

“just too strong, huh?”

“something like that—”

“mommy! peppa pig is on!” your daughter called from the living room, giggles falling from her seconds later.

abby’s eyes light up and quickly clears her throat when she spots you looking at her with a smirk. “what’s the face for? just us watching peppa pig together.”

“strong until it comes to our daughter.”

“It’s hard to say no to her, baby.”

“well you better practice because you’re gonna be the one to tell her that me and you are going on a small vacation next week and that she has to stay with jerry for the weekend.”

“me? babe, you’re kidding right? babe, babe, come back!”

[haikyu-mp4]

I want one – Suna x reader wc 491 – f!reader

When babysitting Osamu’s twins for a weekend, you had expected Suna to get a little baby fever. You hadn’t spoken about children in a while, but you both love it when cute kids come up on your nightly TikTok scroll and both agreed you wanted them eventually.

Osamu’s twins were adorable and you felt the baby fever heating up only on the first day.

What you didn’t expect was for Suna to rush into the bathroom where you were brushing the girl’s teeth, the boy under his arm and a bright grin on his face. “These are amazing, I want one. No, I want four.”

You blinked at him, the little girl by your side doing the same in confusion.

Suna made an incredulous sound and pointed at her. “Those too!”

Your jaw dropped and you covered the poor girl’s ears as a joke, using a nod of your head to gesture to the boy in Suna’s arms. “What did he do? Also, why are you carrying him around like a sack of rice?”

The boy held up a Hot Wheels car and shrugged his shoulder as best as he could. “We were just playing with my toys.”

When the twins had gone to bed, you found Suna in the kitchen doing a pretty bad job with the dishes. Clearing your throat made him look over his shoulder and speak his mind. “Is eight too many?”

You snickered and snuck your arms around his waist, leaning your cheek on his muscular back. “Definitely. Maybe three?”

Suna sighed and shook the water off his hands, seemingly deciding to leave the rest of the dishes for now. “Can you imagine helping our own daughter brush her teeth? She looks like both of us and either takes after our hobbies or loathes them?” he ranted, using his hands to gesture in the most nonsensical way.

The thought made your heart flutter, actually taking the time to consider that image. “She’ll be such a brat, being your daughter.”

“She’ll be so cool!” he exclaimed in presumed agreement. “And imagine our son, he would gather blackmail on his iPad and use it to make his sister help him out of trouble. That’s what I did at least.”

“Both will be brats.”

His shoulders started slowly sinking into their normal hunch as the enthusiasm lulled. “I want to make humans with you and see who they turn into. Watch them grow and make terrible decisions while figuring themselves out. I want to be there for them in a way I can’t when I’m just borrowing Osamu’s.”

You caressed his cheek, letting your thumb graze his cheekbone comfortingly. “You are such a weirdo. And our kids will be even weirder.”

“All eight.”

“All three,” you corrected him.

“Three sets of twins.”

“Slow down cowboy, one at a time.” He looked at you with so much adoration, until his eyes turned more mischievous.

“One at a time. Let’s start right away.”

masterlist

this is entirely self-indulgent.

[darkshrimpemotions]

Dean has a bad dream and wakes up first at 46. He looks down at Cas sleeping peacefully beside him, and he thinks with relief, there you are.

He doesn't get out of bed, just lays there for a second. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking. Remembering. The last year of his life. How different these past few years have been from everything that came before. Not perfect, of course. Not every night is easy. Not every day is calm. Not every birthday starts perfectly. But that's just the law of averages. That just means he has a lot of them.

He holds Cas a little tighter. Kisses him on the forehead, and laughs softly when Cas grumbles and buries his face in Dean's chest, pulling the covers clear over his head. He plays with Cas's unruly hair, starting to curl now that he's let it grow a bit. It quiets his thoughts. Eventually, he drifts back to sleep.

He'll get a better wake up later, when Jack comes bursting in with coffee for them both to make sure Dean doesn't sleep through his own party.

His name is Dean Winchester. He married his best friend. He's 46, dude. He has a family. He's lived longer than he could have imagined when he was 26.

And his life is still so beautiful.

Castiel looking at Dean at 29 angry and mistrustful and at 32 looking at him with hurt and betrayal in his eyes and at 34 covered in blood and at 36 with demon eyes and at 40 in a cowboy getup and at 42 and at 63 and at 70 and at 97 and every single time he thinks still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤㅤI'LL LIKE YOU ✶ 보이넥스트도어

𝑓emale 𝑟eaderㅤ۶ৎㅤidol!reader & idol!bndㅤ☘️ㅤONETHOUSAND / fluff ʚɞ non established relationshipㅤ( CLiCK FOR MORE )

alternatively ───── when your fans ship the two of you together.

myung jaehyun.

jaehyun is the epitome of shy but calculating.

in front of you, he can barely string a full sentence together. he isn’t even able to look you in the eyes, his voice shaking as he blurts out, “y-you’re really talented. um—i, uh—really like your new song,” before practically sprinting away, face turning beet red.

fans live for his adorably flustered behavior, constantly making jokes like, “it’s not his fault he went to an all-boys school and has no information about the other chromosome in his database.”

but what they don’t know is how hard jaehyun works behind the scenes to fuel the ship.

he’d scroll through your instagram for hours, obsessively studying your outfit choices, your favorite colors, even the brands you wear. 

then, out of nowhere, he’s spotted wearing suspiciously similar clothes to yours, down to the tiniest details. fans, of course, catch on quickly, posting side-by-side comparisons of your photos, sending the internet into a frenzy.

when asked about it, jaehyun acts surprised, laughing nervously while scratching the back of his neck, “haha, i guess we just have similar tastes?” but inside, he’s thriving. he’s totally smug about it—he knows he’s been caught, but he’s secretly loving the attention.

when the members start teasing him, saying, “didn’t you just buy that bracelet because you saw yn wearing the same one?” jaehyun’s face turns bright red as he stutters, “n-no, i just like the design, that’s all.” sure, jaehyun... we’re all buying it.

park sungho.

sungho is a walking contradiction.

he tries so hard to act cool when the ship is mentioned, brushing it off with a shrug. “ah, fans are just having fun,” he’d say, his tone so nonchalant it almost seems convincing. but his red ears? they give him away every time.

fans live for the moments when he accidentally lets his guard down. like when someone shows him a video of you during a variety show—he’d sit there watching quietly, trying to suppress a smile, his lips twitching ever so slightly. but then jaehyun would chime in loudly, “why are you smiling so much?” causing sungho to immediately snap, “i’m not!” his voice a little too defensive as he avoids all eye contact, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

if you ever approach him at an event, though, his whole “cool guy” act crumbles. he’d stammer out a polite greeting, bowing so low and so awkwardly that his members have to stifle their laughter in the background. his hands fidget nervously, and he can barely meet your eyes.

later, when clips of the interaction inevitably surface online, fans zoom in on the way sungho sneaks lingering glances at you throughout the event. they also catch the soft, almost dreamy smile he wears whenever you’re speaking. within minutes, the clips go viral, with captions like, “bro is down bad.”

when he’s alone, though, he replays the clip of the two of you interacting like he’s preparing for a dissertation, his eyes glued to the screen as he analyzes every detail—how close you were standing, the way your voice sounded, and whether or not you smiled at him. his members tease him relentlessly about it, but sungho just mutters, “it’s not a big deal,” even though he knows he’s so far gone. 

lee riwoo.

he is so obvious it hurts.

fans catch him dancing to your songs a little too much during livestreams, his grin wide and his moves full of energy, as if he’s the biggest fan. “it’s just a catchy song!” he insists, trying to downplay it, but the way he lights up whenever your music starts playing says so much more.

his real feelings become painfully clear when you invite him to do a dance challenge together. on the outside, he’s all smiles, nodding eagerly, but on the inside? he’s screaming. internally losing it.

the moment you step into the same frame, though, his usual confidence evaporates. he stumbles over the choreography, his nerves getting the best of him, laughing awkwardly as he messes up. fans immediately notice how red he goes, and they absolutely eat it up. meanwhile, you just find him adorable, completely unaware of how flustered he is.

he’s a shy babygirl™ through and through, so whenever someone asks about it directly, he stammers, looking to his members for help like they’ll come to his rescue.

fans catch on quickly, noticing how he starts fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, or blushing whenever your name comes up in conversation. he denies being affected, always trying to play it off, but his members totally snitch on him during live streams, exposing how he practices greeting you in front of the mirror, muttering to himself, “hi, yn, i’m jaehyun, nice to meet you…” while his face turns as red as a tomato.

obvious, but too cute for words. 

han taesan.

this man is a pro at subtlety.

he doesn’t outright acknowledge the ship, but fans quickly catch on to how much effort he puts into feeding it.

during music shows and award events, he’s always in the background, staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and it's so obvious that fans can't help but point it out. whenever you’re on stage or accepting an award, he’s just there, soft smile plastered on his face, his eyes shining with pride. fans zoom in on clips of him, his gaze lingering on you, and caption them with things like, “taesan’s proud bf energy!” and the ship goes viral.

he’s definitely the type to secretly read fanfiction about the two of you..

when the members tease him about how much he lights up whenever your name comes up, he completely freezes. sungho teasingly asks, “taesan, didn’t you say you wanted to collab with yn?” and taesan, flustered and caught off guard, panic-answers, “n-no... i mean, maybe... let’s move on,” but you can tell he’s dying on the inside, trying to keep his cool. secretly, though, he’s probably rehearsing how he’d casually talk to you during the collab

he’s the type to subtly bring you up in interviews, too—“yn’s songs are great; i’ve been listening to them a lot lately”—just to see if fans catch it. and spoiler alert: they absolutely do.

kim leehan.

the definition of soft.

the first time he sees a ship edit of the two of you, his reaction is straight out of a romcom. it’s almost too cute to handle—he lets out an embarrassed laugh, his hands immediately flying up to hide his smile. “ah, fans are so funny,” he says, but his voice is so much softer than usual, and his blush? it gives him away. his ears turn red, and he’s absolutely melting inside, not knowing how to react to being the subject of such a sweet edit.

whenever he’s around you, he can't even hold a normal conversation without giggling nervously and stumbling over his words, offering compliments in the most awkward yet endearing way. and then there’s that awkward pause where he starts fidgeting, trying to salvage what little dignity he has left. but it's clear to everyone that he’s completely flustered and totally into you.

Still, fans adore how genuine and sweet he is, especially when he unknowingly matches his mood to yours—smiling when you’re happy or looking concerned when you seem tired.   

kim woonhak.

woonhak is so loud in denying the ship that it’s painfully obvious he’s head over heels in love with you.

during live streams, as soon as fans even hint at mentioning you, he immediately shouts, “no way! that’s not true!”—almost too loudly, as if trying to convince both the fans and himself. 

but behind the scenes? he’s absolutely dying. when no one’s looking, he’s re-watching every single interaction the two of you have had, replaying the moments over and over, giggling nervously and trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal, but deep down, he knows it’s everything to him.

his members absolutely love stirring the pot, casually bringing you up just to see woonhak completely flail. “didn’t you say yn’s your ideal type?” taesan asks with a smirk, clearly enjoying the chaos. woonhak's face goes red in an instant, his eyes wide as he shakes his head vigorously. “i NEVER said that!” he insists, but everyone can see the way his lips twitch into a nervous smile, the way his hands fidget. fans eat it up, capturing every moment of him flustered.

he’s definitely the type to act all cool in front of everyone, but when it comes to you? he turns into a nervous, giggly mess. 

once, he accidentally liked one of your posts while scrolling through your feed, and when fans pointed it out, he immediately went into full denial mode, spamming “NO” on weverse and trying to distract everyone by starting a random conversation about something totally unrelated. but in his mind, he's already panicking—did they see that?

even when it’s not about you directly, you can see how his mood changes whenever your name is mentioned, like his face softens a little, or he just gives a tiny smile that he tries to hide. he’s loud, energetic, but soft for you in ways that he’s too embarrassed to admit.

ㅤㅤiRAㅤ:ㅤwe all know what inspired me to write this 🤭

ㅤㅤ•ㅤㅤfeedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

tags @sgz-net @kstrucknet @k-films

[melosliving]

someone wrote an ask for me but I cannot answer it 😡 but nonetheless I hope you’ll like it @sapphirelunawolfie

aaron pierre x bestiegirlfriend!reader

warnings : +18 (MDNI), cheating (pls don’t do that), abusive relationship, smut

bestfriend!aaron who had been there since the beginning. He was your boyfriend’s bestfriend, his ride or ride and your man made it very clear that his opinion on you was really important as to where y’all’s relationship would go in the future.

bestfriend!aaron who found you breathtaking the first time your boyfriend introduced you to him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were simply the most beautiful woman he has ever met.

bestfriend!aaron who overtime became your friend ! He was the kind of guy who always had your back, always stepped in when you needed a hand, even if it meant putting his own comfort aside. You respected him. You admired him for that.

bestfriend!aaron who actually is the first person in your inner circle to see through the cracks in your relationship—the ones your boyfriend had carefully kept hidden from the world. The controlling ways. The jealous outbursts. The subtle insults that no one else would catch, but Aaron did. He saw it all, even before you could admit it to yourself.

"I never realized how much potential you had. I guess you’re full of surprises" your boyfriend said once in front of aaron.

"I know you did not say that to her."

bestfriend!aaron who knew you better than anyone else. Better than your own boyfriend. He could read the exhaustion in your eyes, the way you’d shrink under your boyfriend’s touch.

bestfriend!aaron who saw red the first time he noticed bruises on you—ones that weren’t just physical. He wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t a fool. He’d been there when your boyfriend started to change, when the sweet moments turned into demands, when the love became a cage.

"What the hell is that ?" He would take your arm, inspecting the bad bruises it had on it.

You’d laugh it off, tell him it was fine, that everything was just a phase. And he’d nod, but you could see the hurt in his eyes. He knew the truth. And he wasn’t blind to the way your boyfriend treated you. It broke him, more than you realized.

bestfriend!aaron who did not sleep that night, wondering what he could do to put you out of this situation. He knew that the position you were in was difficult, and it actually hurt him that you were willing to stay.

bestifriend!aaron who never said anything, not outright, because he was your friend first.

bestifriend!aaron who would pull you aside and ask if you were really okay, if this was how you wanted your life to be.

bestfriend!aaron who overtime developed the habit of taking you aside each time he could to ask you if you were okay. He was almost becoming overwhelming but you knew he did this because he cared about you.

"you can always come to me if you need anything, you know that right ?"

"Thank you for being here. I appreciate you so much," you answered, going to give him a quick hug.

Bestfriend!Aaron who shows up uninvited once after your boyfriend storms out, jaw clenched, shoulders tight, pacing your tiny apartment like he’s got half a mind to go after the man who keeps hurting you.

“What’d he do this time?” he asks, voice low but tense, and when you avoid his eyes, he steps in closer, refusing to let you shrug it off.

Bestfriend!Aaron who grabs your chin gently but firmly when you try to deflect, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t give me that ‘it’s fine’ bullshit,” he says, his voice sharper than usual, but his thumb brushes soft circles on your jawline. “You deserve better than this, and you know it.”

and let me tell you that’s how this whole affair situation began.

Bestfriend!Aaron who’s always been too protective, who makes it his mission to remind you just how much better you deserve—especially when your boyfriend isn’t there to see. It’s in the way he’s always in your space, closer than he probably should be. In the way his eyes linger just a second too long when you’re not looking. And in the way his voice softens when he says your name, like he’s holding something back.

Bestfriend!Aaron who loses his restraint one night when you finally break, tears slipping down your face as you admit, “I don’t know how to leave.”

Bestfriend!Aaron who cups your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs, and whispers, “You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

Bestfriend!Aaron whose lips find yours before either of you can think about the consequences. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, like he’s testing the waters, but when you kiss him back, tugging him closer by the front of his hoodie, he can’t hold back anymore.

Bestfriend!Aaron who groans into your mouth when your hands slide up into his hoodie, tugging just enough to make his control snap. Who whispers your name like a prayer when he presses you back against the couch, his hands sliding up your thighs as he murmurs, “Tell me to stop, and I will. Just say the word.” But you don’t. You never would.

bestfriend!aaron who touches you like you were the rarest thing in the world. He takes his time kissing your body, tasting your skin with his mouth, he wants all of you.

And that’s how you found yourself moaning softly his name as he took your nipple in his mouth, making you arch against him.

bestfriend!aaron who tells you he wants to show you how pretty you are and how much love you truly deserve.

Bestfriend!Aaron whose lips trail down your body, leaving soft, burning kisses that make you shiver. His hands mapping every inch of your skin like he’s been dying to do this for years.

Bestfriend!Aaron who is whispering soft reassurances against your skin, but he’s not perfect. There’s a possessiveness in the way he grips your hips, the way he groans when you moan his name. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, as if he’s trying to etch the words into your soul.

Bestfriend!Aaron who makes you forget all the pain, all the fear, all the guilt, even if just for a little while. Who holds you close afterward, his hands trailing up and down your back as he promises, “You’re not going back to him. Not after this.” And for the first time, you believe it.

now having your back against his torso, you mindlessly listens to the sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis, your eyes closed. You could feel his dick all up in your stomach and as scary as it sounded, it felt too good.

"Talk to me baby, tell me how you feel."

"…Good.. you feel so good papa. Don’t stop."

bestfriend!aaron who knows he’s down bad. He can’t get enough of you, your body is too beautiful, your spirit too pure but your pussy ? That was his last straw.

"I can’t believe he had this pussy all for him but decided to throw it away.."

"Fuck- don’t talk about him ! He doesn’t compare."

"Yeah ?"

"…Yeah baby.."

lover!aaron who looks at you sleeping on his chest, wondering how someone could ever think about being mean to you.

lover!aaron who silently kisses your scares and bruises, promising himself he’ll never let anyone touch you like this again.

@ melosliving 2025

[auggieblogs]

The brow incident | Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid x fem! reader

Author’s note: Hiii, loves!!! Hope you all are doing good. My first Spencer fic and definitely not my last because I cannot for the love of god, get that man out of mind. I AM OBSESSED so please expect criminal minds fics in the future. Anywaysss, happy reading💗

Warning: sexual innuendos

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

“Spence,” you said sweetly, leaning against the back of the chair he had just sat in. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Spencer glanced up at you suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. “Yes… and I feel like you’re about to weaponize that love against me.”

You grinned. “Not against you. For you. Your eyebrows, to be specific.”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. They’re fine. They don’t need fixing.”

(For weeks, you’d been trying to convince him to let you fix his eyebrows. Not that they were bad, per se, but there was just a little untamed chaos there that you knew you could tame.)

“They’re not fine. You’ve got stray hairs everywhere, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to clean them up a little!”

“I’d like to remind you that I’m a grown man and perfectly capable of managing my own eyebrows,” he protested, even though you both knew he never did.

You sighed dramatically. “You’ve left me no choice.”

Before he could protest further, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him and effectively trapping him in the chair.

“Y/N! What are you doing?” he exclaimed, his hands instinctively moving to steady you at your waist.

“Taking matters into my own hands,” you said with a smirk, pulling a pair of tweezers out of your pocket.

Spencer groaned again, his cheeks flushing pink. “This is unfair. You’re using my inability to physically overpower you against me.”

“Correct,” you chirped. “Now, hold still.”

He muttered something about how this was a violation of his personal space, but he didn’t move. You leaned in, examining his brows with laser focus.

“Okay, this won’t hurt too much,” you promised, carefully plucking the first stray hair.

“OW!” he yelped, flinching.

“Oh, stop being a baby,” you teased, gripping his chin to steady him. “One down, a hundred to go.”

Spencer huffed, his hands instinctively resting on your waist to keep you balanced. “I don’t even know why this is necessary. No one’s looking at my eyebrows that closely.”

“I am,” you replied, plucking another hair.

“Lucky me,” he grumbled, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

The next few minutes were filled with his exaggerated whining and your mock scolding, the both of you laughing more than anything else. But then, as you leaned in to focus on a particularly stubborn hair, you shifted slightly on his lap.

That’s when you felt it.

Your movements stilled, and you glanced down, realizing exactly what had happened. A slow grin spread across your face as you looked up at Spencer, whose cheeks were already turning a deep shade of red.

“Oh,” you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Don’t,” he warned, his tone a mix of mortification and desperation.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The sight of his flushed face and his clear discomfort was just too funny. “Oh my God, Spencer! This is hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he hid his face in his hands. “It’s biology. It’s involuntary.”

“Involuntary, huh?” you teased, leaning forward just enough to make him groan in protest. “So you’re saying this has nothing to do with me?”

“Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice a low warning. “This is serious.”

“It’s seriously funny,” you said, still laughing as you climbed off his lap, much to his relief—and apparent dismay.

But before you could move far, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. “You can’t just leave me like this,” he said, his voice soft but laced with need.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Leave you like what, Spence?”

“You know what,” he said, his pout returning full force. “You started this. You should finish it.”

His words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little longer. “Finish your eyebrows first?”

Spencer let out a groan, leaning back in the chair with a defeated look. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I do. Even when you’re torturing me.”

You grinned, stepping closer and letting your fingers trail along his jaw. “Tell you what, Dr. Reid. If you’re a good boy and let me finish your eyebrows, I’ll see what I can do about… your problem.”

His eyes darkened slightly at your tone, and he swallowed hard. “Deal.”

“Good,” you said with a wink, grabbing the tweezers again. “Now hold still.”

[goosefries]

in fact, TCO has never killed a stick figure directly. ever.

this post is pretty much a compilation and explanation of stuff that i think pretty clearly points to this FACT. i am EXTREMELY confident this is canon

the biggest indicator of this is that mitsi dies to a thrown fireball.

alan gives us a very clear set of abilities for each of the sticks, and although cho and dark both use fire, it’s clear they use it very differently

dark has these explosive fireballs that he throws that chosen NEVER uses. they share some powers as shown in The Flashback (fire breath, general pyrokinesis, flight using fire)

the fireballs are a power EXCLUSIVE to dark.

there’s examples of chosen throwing fire (like in this one above) but it looks entirely different. it’s lighter, airy, and doesn’t explode on impact. alan has made it so clear how different they are in the episodes leading up to AvA 11. the Box and Wanted was practically a showcase of all chosen’s abilities. ALAN IS TRYING TO TELL US SOMETHING HERE…

lets talk about the newgrounds attack.

during that whole sequence with mitsi when she first is teleported into the background, there’s two important details to notice.

dark is leading the way. chosen is trailing behind him IT’S ALL FIREBALLS. EVERY SINGLE ATTACK. EXPLOSIVE FIREBALLS.

when mitsi is trapped, it’s because of a fireball. when she dies, you’ll never believe this:

EXPLOSION. FIREBALL. no lightning, no light and airy pyrokinesis, no laser eyes. it’s all those damn fireballs

my boy got caught in the fray. all this pretty clearly shows us that dark is to blame for all of this. cho just got all the heat bc agent saw him above mitsi and tattled to his boyfriend who controls the media

i HONESTLY would go as far as to say that chosen was there because he was flying over to try and help mitsi. that one is just a theory though. the rest of this post i’m 100% certain about

he is never portrayed as an ACTIVE participant in murdering sticks. he attacks nonlethally (except for dark, because he knows that dark wouldn't die from it) when dark starts killing people on stickpage, cho does nothing. during the newgrounds attack, he does NOTHING. during Wanted? he doesn't kill ANY of the mercs. he easily could've, but he just ran.

let me be clear: chosen is not free from blame. he let a lot of this slide. he was still friends with dark after the newgrounds attack, even if it left an impact on their relationship. he let dark kill HUNDREDS without stopping him.

that being said, victim’s got the wrong guy. let’s bring dark back and kill him again please i miss him BAD

TL;DR: at the end of the day it’s always TDL’s fault and by extension alan’s for making him Like That. let’s just blow up his PC again and call it even

[snoopychris]

in dire need of subby nerd!matt, thanks 🧎

just because you asked so nicely and waited so patiently

warnings: thigh riding, cumming in clothes, mentions of getting caught

“this is kinda pathetic don’t y’think? you’re so hard and i haven’t even touched you.” you whisper, staring daggers into matt’s soul. he shakes his head rapidly, marking your neck up even more than he already had with his lips. he let out a whine into your skin, his erection tight against his grey sweats. matt felt trapped in the fabric. he wanted so desperately to rid himself of the both the cloths confining him. another whine leaves his mouth when you let out a small chuckle, ruffling his hair teasingly. matt wants to touch you so bad. he’s needed it all day. he was convinced that if he went to your house there would be no distractions. he had no way of knowing your family would be having a party.

and now he was stuck. stuck with you not touching him, stuck with your door having to stay open a few inches, stuck having to stay quiet, stuck in his pants. another noise leaves his mouth when you palm him, just a new form of teasing in this situation. he’s half tempted to grab the pillow behind his head and put it over his face just so he can pretend like none of it is happening.

“sweetie please… please my cars right outside. just gimme 10 minutes please…” the sight of him begging was almost enough to make you give in. if your door didn’t have to remain open a few inches you’d give him head right there. his countless begs and pleas were so so tempting. you almost felt bad. he had already made his way to your house just for his plans to be spoiled. matt’s hand slides up to your face, gently pushing a strand of hair away. “please?” he begs once more, making you quietly curse yourself. you look towards the cracked open door, biting down on your lip.

truthfully, there’s not much you can do. not without getting caught or close to being caught. truthfully matt rubbing his clothed cock against your thigh is all you can do. you’re just a little bit luckier than matt is when it comes to getting off. your skirt is pushed up against your hips, and if anybody comes nearby you can flip it down and call it a day. matt can’t have that. matt can’t do anything more than rut against your thigh, up and down. over and over again. you had ridden his thigh numerous times before, but matt riding yours was new. he didn’t even know how much he’d like it before he started doing it. the pleasure was indescribable. it felt like every single nerve in his body was rubbing against your thigh, not just the ones in his dick. his whines and whimpers from earlier had turned into nothing but babbles and attempts to speak.

there’s a few minutes that pass of matt grinding himself on your thigh while simultaneously rubbing and tapping on your clit before his actions all simultaneously slow down. you whimper slightly, but when matt makes eye contact with you his fingers speed up again. his legs remain slow, a clear indicator that he’s close. matt’s mustering up the courage to say anything by now. he’d never expected he’d be in this position. never in a million years. his head is buried into your purpled up neck as he whispers near your ear. “can i cum baby? please i’ve been so good please please please.” he whines, letting out a moan into your neck as you nod. his grey sweats quickly become covered in a wet patch near his tip, a clear indicator of the actions that had just gone down. his fingers rubbing circles on your clit speed up, only slowing down when he sees another wet patch on the waistband of his sweats near his hands.

the way that he collapses besides you on the bed is such a heavenly sight to you. never in a million years did you think you’d be here. you’re okay with it. a gentle kiss is exchanged between you and matt, prompting a small giggle from you. you glance towards the door once more, the volume from the first floor of your house only increasing as time goes on. matt glances towards the stains on his pants, letting out a small sigh. though he was no longer stuck in his pants, he was officially stuck in your bedroom for a few hours.

🏷️: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbratt333 @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @m4ttg1rl @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ayesha-eroticaa a @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo o @chrislova @emely9274 @oopsiedaisydeer

[httpsdana]

30 & 5 from fluff with pedri?

Quiet Hours~Pedri González

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: this was a bit rushed sorry. A hector fic next <3

5-“stop laughing! I'm trying to tell you that I love you"

30-“What are you doing up?” “my personal heater went away”

It was well past midnight when y/n shifted in her sleep at the sudden coldness. Her hand reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, only for her to be met with the empty warm bed.

She sat up confused, rubbing her eyes to try and clear the haze of sleep still clouding her mind.

She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, and shivered as her feet met the cold tiles of the floor.

She walked herself out of the room, and to the room that was only lit up in the house.

She saw Pedri in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hands but his posture seemed off. His shoulders seemed tense, not as relaxed as always. His back was to her, but when he heard her come in he quickly turned around.

“amor?” he said softly, his eyes softening at her sleepy sight. “What are you doing up?”

“my personal heater went away” she whined, making his face melt into a smile as she tightened the blanket around her shoulders.

“lo siento princesa,” he murmured, reaching forward to cup her face in his warm hands. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again.

“Why did you leave?” she asked him

He shrugged, his finger running over her cheekbone lightly.

“I couldn't sleep,” he said, although she wasn't convinced. He seemed to be carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.

“something's on your mind. spill,” she urged, making him sigh.

" it's just…I've been thinking about something for so long,” he started.

“about what?” she asked curiously.

" I don't know how to tell you” he breathed out.

“Are you trying to tell me that you've been stealing my snacks?” she couldn't help but tease him slightly before he shook his head.

“No, it's more serious. I-” she interrupted him again before he could finish.

“did you crash my car again?” she teased, her smile widening as she watched the blush rise up his neck. She couldn't help but laugh softly at his flustered state.

“stop laughing! I'm trying to tell you that I love you" he said, his voice rising slightly as he blurted out what's been weighing on him for a while.

The room went silent as her eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly at his confession. She hadn't expected him to say those words, not in this situation and in the middle of the night.

Pedri noticed her face and his face dropped immediately.

“dios mío” he sighed, his hand running over his face. “I knew this was a bad idea. lo siento”

As he tried to walk away, she was quick to pull his hand back.

“Pedri. Stop” she smiled slightly, as he avoided her eyes and focused on the floor.

“I love you too,” she murmured, making him look up at her quickly.

“you do?” he asked, his smile appearing on his face once again.

“Yes, stupid. I'd be the dumbest person on earth if I didn't” she joked, making him chuckle.

She grabbed the strings of his hoodie, before pulling him down so that his lips met hers in a reassuring kiss. He melted into the kiss as his hand reached up to cup her face again. When they pulled away they were both slightly breathless. She smiled at him before leaning her head against his chest.

“carry me to bed? I'm cold” she looked at him with a pout. He leaned down to kiss her pout away, before wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her effortlessly off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes already heaving with sleep.

“te amo mi vida” she murmured, before her eyes fully shut.

“te amo más preciosa” he mumbled back, unable to stop the wide smile from spreading on his face.

He placed her gently in bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around her then laying next to her. He pressed one final kiss on her forehead, before pulling her so she could lay on him.

And having her in his arms was the way he could sleep peacefully at night, especially after hearing her say those words back to him.

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[xiaq]

Mom, don’t read this.

Once upon a time, 15-year-old X got her motorcycle license. For three years she was extremely responsible with this privilege, until she went to college.

Unlike her peers, who expressed their desire for rebellion in drinking, drugs, and sexually transmitted diseases, X decided her particular brand of youthful nonconformity would involve motorsports. Namely, street racing.

So, at 18, she set off to seek her fortune with a group of nighttime street-racers that, to be fair, met in a rural area that was unlikely to pose a risk to standard motorists. There were watchmen with walkie talkies (actually, I’m going to show my age, here, they mostly had those horrendous yellow phones that doubled as walky talkies, you remember those? the chirps?) who kept the area clear, and warned of any disturbances.

She went a few times. Raced a few times (won a few times!). It was all, frankly, anti-climactic after a steady diet of progressively more absurd Fast and Furious movies.

Until one night, when someone on watch-duty messed up. Or maybe this was a planned sting of some sort. But the cops arrived; multiple cars. And pretty much everyone ran.

Now, I’d never been in trouble in my life. I had a 4.0 and I was an only child with the definition of helicopter parents (excepting the motorcycle license, and no, I still don’t understand that logic. Can my 15-year-old get a motorcycle? Certainly! Can my 18-year-old headed to college next week have a curfew later than 8pm? Perish the thought! Anyway). In the split second I had to decide, my 18-year-old brain, in its infinite wisdom, said: Motorcycle fast. Police car slow.

So. You know. I…motorcycle fast-ed.

Immediately I was like. SELF!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!! You just made this so much worse if they catch you!! But I was already in top gear going well over 100mph, so that train of thought quickly turned into: I must not get caught.

I don’t know if you’re aware of how much faster a 600CC motorcycle is than the average Crown Victoria, but just know that it’s a lot. Especially when the motorcycle rider is less than 100lbs.

So the half-dozen of us who all booked it the same direction, we know we’ve got at least one car following us, but they’re a fair ways behind. The trick is getting far enough ahead that you can quickly get off the road and hide without them seeing your exit. So we all start peeling off to find our hiding places.

Now, between our meeting location and my college, there was an IKEA. I’d bought the bookcase for my dorm there. And I’d unpacked the bookcase into my car in the IKEA parking lot, so I could throw away the giant cardboard box in the enormous blue dumpsters behind the store, rather than deal with it back on campus.

I head for the IKEA. I pull around back. I immediately turn off the bike and toe-walk my way between one of the dumpsters and the store wall, completely out of view of the street and most of the parking lot.

It’s literal minutes later that the cop car finally goes flying by, and evidently they don’t think, “hey, I should stop and check behind the IKEA dumpsters.” Several more minutes pass. No more cops.

At this point, the adrenaline turns into existential dread and shaking so bad that I have to put my kickstand down because my anxiety-ridden perfectionist body is not meant for this kind of stress, even when self-inflicted. I quietly have a panic attack, swear to never disobey the law again (unless it’s for civil protest), and, finally, when I’ve pulled myself together around an hour later, I slowly make my way home.

I never attended another race. Because I am a baby.

But I’m a baby who outran the cops, so.

A visual aid of 18-year-old X and her bike (named Shadowfax) (Shadowfax lived up to her name, that night. All hail.)

(To be clear, I do not endorse this behavior. I could have hurt or killed myself going those speeds or even put some innocent bystander in danger had other people been out and about that night. This was very, very, stupid.)

My new boss: “Everyone come to the team meeting with a surprising story about something you’ve done in the past. Something no one would expect of you!”

Me: Googling the statute of limitation for felonies in Texas

[defectivevillain]

& your terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

pairing: Deadpool & Wolverine & Reader

The reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: “Deadpool and Wolverine, sitting in a minivan, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” The guy sings to himself, his head swaying back and forth as he continues. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a dog in a… baby… carriage!” He taps his hands on the steering wheel restlessly. “Hm. That last part needs some work.” It doesn’t look like he’s noticed you sitting in the backseat.

Your Uber ride is... interesting, to say the least.

word count: 1.8k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical suggestive humor/blood & violence

author's note: This is probably the dumbest thing I've ever written. This fic is complete and utter crack. The logistics of this don’t really make sense either. I haven’t watched the second Deadpool movie, because I don’t have it in me to take on another pair of disaster gays. But! I saw the car fight scene and thought of this. (For example, I didn't realize until I started tagging this fic on AO3 that the Honda Odyssey belongs to Nicepool.... which clashes with this story. So... yeah. Canon doesn't exist to me.)

Also, I couldn't find a gif of them in the car that didn't just look like something right out of gay porn 💀 lmfaooo. anyways, hope you enjoy this shit show!

Uber is always a bit of a roll of the dice. Sometimes, the driver is great and the ride is painless. Other times, it’s awkward or uncomfortable—and the drive seems to take twice as long, if only because you’re relegated to staring out the window and regretting every decision you’ve ever made. You’ve been using Uber less these days, instead opting for a longer train ride or unpleasant bus ride. 

Today, though, you’re exhausted. Your head is pounding; work was an absolute nightmare, per usual; and you just want nothing more than to go home. When you see the marked van of the Uber driver pulling up, you’re quick to slide into the backseat. 

The driver—Joseph, the app says—can’t even get a word out before the window next to him is suddenly punched. You stare in fearful disbelief as a guy wearing red spandex promptly tugs him out of the car and kicks him into the nearby bushes. Then he sits in the driver’s seat, beginning to hum to himself casually. 

“Deadpool and Wolverine, sitting in a minivan, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…” He sings to himself, his head swaying back and forth as he continues. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a dog in a… baby… carriage!” He taps his hands on the steering wheel restlessly. “Hm. That last part needs some work.” It doesn’t look like he’s noticed you. 

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?” A new voice says. To your horror, there’s another guy now—he nearly rips the passenger side door off as he takes a seat, then slamming it behind him. You look at both of them, taking in their spandex costumes and assorted weapons. The yellow-suited man is Wolverine; and the red-suited man must be Deadpool—judging from that childish song he just sang. You think you’ve heard of them, maybe? They don’t seem to be particularly villainous guys, but you don’t know them well enough to make that assumption safely. 

They continue bickering for several minutes, not even bothering to turn around and glance at their occupied backseat. Eventually your annoyance trumps your anxiety and you address them. “Can you stop flirting and just drive?” You blurt out.

They both flinch, whipping around in their seats as if just noticing you. 

“Oh, hello!” Deadpool chirps brightly, sending you a friendly wave that feels very misplaced for the current situation. “How long have you been there?” He tilts his head curiously. 

“The entire time.” You answer. 

“Wonderful.” Wolverine says dryly. 

“It’s not my fault you lack situational awareness.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. The guy’s eyebrow shoots up his face in clear irritation. You try to pretend your hands aren’t shaking. This is completely normal. Just an ordinary commute after work. “Anyways, can you just drive already?” You add on impatiently. It’s been a long day and this really isn’t helping it go any faster. You fidget uncomfortably. 

“Drive?” Deadpool asks, seeming confused. 

“We’re in a car, in case you didn’t notice.” You say, your headache speaking for you. These two have been talking the entire time you’ve been sitting here. “And you threw my Uber driver into the bushes over there, so….” You trail off. 

“Then you can take a trip to the bushes next.” Wolverine says gruffly. 

“No, that makes you the Uber driver, buddy.” You assert, turning to the red-suited guy sitting in the driver’s seat. He seems to be a lot more amicable—and easily persuaded—than the grouch. “So buckle up and take your eyes off your friend for two seconds to take me where I need to go.” And wow, you must be even more tired than you thought. 

“Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” Wolverine practically orders. 

“Not really.” You admit. Nothing about this interaction makes sense to you. It may as well be a dream sequence, because your filter is completely gone. “The couple's costumes are cute, though.” 

“We’re not a couple.” He immediately corrects you. 

Deadpool visibly droops at his side. “Come on, you’re breaking my heart.” He says somewhat sarcastically. Immediately, the two guys seem to be on the verge of arguing again. 

You sigh and try to summon some patience. Maybe you can appeal to their cold, dead hearts by being nice. “Hey, can you just drive me to where I need to go, please?” You ask, breaking through their taunting once more. “I won’t tell anyone about whatever this is. I just want to go home.” 

You must look particularly pathetic, because after only a few moments of silence, they both seem to cave in. “Where are you going.” Wolverine almost growls, managing to make the question sound like a demand. You answer with the address and he sighs, plugging it into the GPS system next to the front console. 

Deadpool begins driving. No one is talking, as the vigilante focuses on the road; you fight off your growing fear, and Wolverine stews in irritation. They’re talking about something in hushed whispers, but you’re too exhausted and overwhelmed to eavesdrop. It’s only when they begin to raise their voices that you realize you may not reach your destination just yet. They’re currently engaged in a worrying stare-off, with Deadpool not even looking at the road ahead.

…You’re definitely going to die. 

When the car screeches to a stop moments later, you’re not very surprised. Deadpool seems to be resisting the urge to put his knife through Wolverine. You take one look at the two of them and decide you don’t want to be a part of their homoerotic fist fight. So you open your door—which is unlocked, by some miracle—and head off to sit nearby. You find a decently-sized tree and sit behind it, using it as a makeshift barrier from the violence occurring behind you. For a while, you can only hear pained hisses and curse words. Just when you start to think the fight is over, the glass of the windshield shatters and a blur of motion passes before your eyes. Wolverine catches himself with a hand on the ground, crouching and slowly looking up only to meet your eyes. He then stares at you in disbelief, clearly surprised to see you. You can’t find any words to say. 

Your presence must distract him, because soon Deadpool is running at him with a gleeful cry. “Thanks, baby!” The mercenary says to you, before throwing a punch at the superhero. They start trading hits and you glance at the car forlornly. 

Truthfully, you want nothing more than to steal the van and drive away, but Deadpool and Wolverine are still too close. While they’re distracted, though, you manage to sneak back to the car—swiping the keys and the knife that was neglected in the passenger seat. Then they’re throwing each other at the car again, and you’re back at a distance. 

It’s extremely amusing to see the two guys finally collapse in the car after their unnecessarily long fight… only to realize they don’t have the keys. They seem moments away from brawling it out again, when you snap. Today has really been the worst day you’ve had in a long time. And it was looking to be that way, even before all of this nonsense. 

You move mechanically, until you’re standing before the broken window on the driver’s side. “Get up.” You say, swallowing past the burning feeling in your throat. The urge to cry is growing stronger with every passing second. Deadpool just looks up at you. In a burst of exhausted anger, you point the knife at him. You don’t have any plans to use it, of course. But you get the sense he only really listens to violence. 

There’s silence for a long time. “Are we getting carjacked?” Deadpool eventually asks. 

“No,” you sigh. “Just get in the back. Please. It’s been a long day; I just want to go home. You can fool around and do your stupid shit after.” Your voice breaks somewhere along the way and you think your hand is shaking ever so slightly as you hold the knife. 

Deadpool and Wolverine turn towards each other, some sort of silent understanding passing between them. Then the vigilante is gently holding the blade  and taking it from your hand. He heads to the backseat, before Wolverine lets out a groan and does the same. 

You bite the inside of your cheek and sit down, starting the car. Fortunately, it seems the car is still functioning—despite the bloodbath it just saw. These two seem a little hardheaded, but not stupid enough to risk getting stranded without a working car. 

You try to hide your shaking hands as you turn your attention to the GPS system, before putting the car in reverse and then proceeding onto the nearby street. Luckily, you’re not far from where you wanted to be—with a ten minute drive, you’ll arrive. 

Those ten minutes feel like ten hours. The guys are completely silent in the back, evidently tired from their fight. The van looks… well, rather bad. There are bloodstains everywhere and you think the driver’s seat must’ve been knifed, because it feels weirdly uncomfortable. But finally, finally, you arrive and pull into the parking lot. 

You take a slow breath, pretending not to feel as scared and restless as you are. Your survival instincts kick in and you quickly turn the car off. From there, you almost robotically exit the car. The sheer absurdity of the situation is starting to catch up to you. And despite the fact that neither of the men paid you much attention, you can’t shake off the knowledge that they could kill you in the blink of an eye. 

“You’ll give us a five-star rating, right?” Deadpool asks through the space where the back seat window used to be. His remark unknowingly breaks through your quickly spiraling thoughts.

You don’t bother entertaining his question. “Have fun on your little adventure.” You manage to say instead. The remark is intended to be somewhat sarcastic, but it comes out quiet and too sincere. 

“It’s an average size for an adventure, thank you very much.” Deadpool jokes. Then he almost seems to straighten up. His mask covers his entire face, but his voice sounds sympathetic. “Get some rest, pal. You look like hell.” 

He seems concerned. It’s a strange thought. You stand there for a bit longer than you should, because you’re so surprised by the remark. Then you blink and break out of your thoughts, closing the door behind you and walking away. The unmistakable screeching sound of tires on pavement informs you of their departure. 

It takes you several hours to convince yourself you’re safe and sound. And when your head finally hits your pillow that night, you’re graced with one humorous thought: you’ve had weirder Uber drivers, ironically. 

©2025, @defectivevillain | @defectivehero, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

Deadpool, turning towards you: So I guess this means I'm your Uber driver now...? Wolverine, frowning: ...I've never been to oovoo javer.

What the hell am I doing with my life. I haven't even watched this movie god dammit. And I have yet ANOTHER fic draft with these two... (－‸ლ)

I like how I updated my blog's theme (and it's beautiful and I don't care what anyone says), only to post this absolute dumpster fire of a fic immediately after. Like, how does anyone take me seriously...

anyways, thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat @always-lying-to-you @moss4ev3r

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[eunandonly]

BOYNEXTDOOR PLAYING THE PEPERO GAME WITH YOU

playing the pepero game with boynextdoor, with an unexpected twist

( 対 ) boynextdoor + fem. reader 982WC · fluff, crack contains! skinship, kissing, unestablished relationship / archive

은 : hi guys!! i'm finally back with my bonedo debut >< i struggled sm with a writer's block but here it is! i hope you guys enjoy ~

myung jaehyun

jaehyun bites into the pepero stick, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he stares at you in challenge. the grin on his face never wavers as he places his hands on your waist, watching your face get redder by the second as the stick gets shorter. your flustered expression and wide eyes has jaehyun's heartbeat increasing.

you're just so cute.

before you know it, jaehyun's face is mere inches away from yours, noses almost touching. you attempt to pull back, distance yourself from him and pretend like nothing happened. but his hands on your waist only tightens as he leans in, closing the distance before your lips meet.

his lips are soft against yours, and you let out a noise of surprise that has jaehyun smiling. he snaps the remaining pepero stick in half before finally pulling away, leaving you hiding your face behind your hands in embarrassment.

"don't hide that pretty face behind your hands."

park sungho

"let's just get this over with," sungho mutters. you note how he can't seem to be able to meet your eyes as he leans forward to take the other end of the pepero stick between his teeth.

even when you place a playful hand on his arm, his gaze stays rooted to the ground. he starts biting to the center, trying to ignore the warmth of your hand on him, the way his heart rate picks up. he pretends he doesn't see the smile on your lips, even though it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

when your faces are barely inches apart, sungho's movements slow, and his breathing grows uneven. his eyes meet yours briefly before he looks away quickly.

sungho freezes when your lips meet, his entire body going rigid at the contact. he tries his best to ignore the way you stare at him with your gorgeous eyes, but gosh, you're just so pretty.

lee sanghyuk

riwoo fidgets nervously with the chocolate pepero stick, glancing at your with wide eyes.

"this is so awkward," he says, biting the stick hesistantly. you giggle at his expression before leaning in and he follows, letting you bite the other end of the cracker even though his movements are slow and uncertain.

almost subconsciously, riwoo's hand moves to gently tilt your head to the side as the distance between you two shortens. riwoo's eyes dart between your face and the pepero stick, his cheeks flushed.

"uh, maybe we should stop-" he starts, but it's too late.

your lips meet as the last bit of the pepero disappears, a kiss that lingers a second too long to be 'just a game' before both of you jerk back, faces pink. riwoo looks anywhere but your face as he mutters something under his breath about never again and knew this was a bad idea.

han dongmin

taesan stares at you with a grin on his face that tells you he's up to absolutely no good as you nibble on a strawberry pepero stick. suddenly, he leans in, catching the other end of the cracker you're eating between his teeth. there's a smirk on his face as he watches you look up at him with wide eyes and flustered expression before he places his hands on the side of your face to tilt your head upwards.

as the pepero stick gets shorter, taesan's grin only widens and your cheeks only get warmer. the man has the audacity to wink at you when your faces are inches away, making your heart race. when your faces are inches away from each other, his lips brush against yours before meeting in a soft kiss that has your face burning before taesan pulls away with an amused chuckle.

you glare at him, trying your best to pretend the kiss didn't bother you whatsoever.

"you enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"I think that was pretty clear, y/n."

kim donghyun

"do we have to?" leehan asks quietly as his friends egg him on, already blushing as he picks up the pepero stick. he reluctantly takes a bite, his gaze fixed on the floor.

you lean in, and he follows hesitantly. his breath gets shakier each bite, and so does yours. when your eyes meet, you can't help but admire how pretty leehan's eyes are before you both look away.

the distance between you two disappears and leehan's gaze flickers back to yours, cheeks flushing a deeper red. you don't miss the way his gaze drops to your lips for a beat before quickly returning to the tiny piece of pepero stick.

when there's nothing left but a tiny piece of the cracker, the inevitable happens, your lips meeting in a soft, fleeting kiss that has your heartbeat quickening.

leehan immediately pulls back, his hand flying to his mouth as his eyes widen in shock. "sorry- i didn't mean to-" he stammers, but he's quickly shut up by you when you kiss him again on the lips. a real kiss, not just an accidental one from a party kiss.

leehan feels like he's going to melt.

kim woonhak

woonhak grabs the pepero stick with an over the top grin. "ok, this is going to be legendary," he says, biting into the snack dramatically. you take the other end, laughing at his antics as he leans in confidently.

he makes it a show, wiggling his eyes and making exaggerated faces to throw you off that has you giggling.

"don't fall for me, y/n," he jokes, even though it's his grin that falters as the stick gets shorter.

when there's nothing left but a tiny piece, you and woonhak's lips touch for a split second before woonhak pulls back with wide eyes and nervous laughter.

"ok, wait, that was not supposed to happen," he says, trying to play it cool.

"woonhak, shut the hell up and kiss me again for real this time."