#you think this is how he pictures himself

[vampzity]

my eyes only | K.HJ

★ DAY FOURTEEN: NUDES WITH HONGJOONG ★

pairing: bf! hongjoong x f! reader

as hongjoong is stuck working late in the studio, you’re left with nothing but boredom to keep you company. it doesn’t hurt to send a spicy “i miss you” photo does it? what about a video?

[warnings]: MDNI 18+ !!!, smut, nudes, masturbation, clit play, pet names (baby, pretty girl), use of toys (dildo)

word count: 1.3k

⚠️PLEASE NOTE: pictures in this story DO NOT depict what MC looks like body wise!! it’s just for the plot so ofc just insert yourself as always ^^ ty ty !

Hongjoong stared at the ceiling in defeat as the clock struck 2 am. He was far from done with the last track of their upcoming album and was already growing tired. His booming amounts of inspiration were slowly fading as the night progressed and he felt defeated.

Meanwhile you sat in the bathtub aching for his touch, his warmth. You had trouble sleeping as Hongjoong wasn’t there to wrap his arms around you and bring you comfort, but you understood how important his work was. It wasn’t something you wanted to interrupt especially if he was stuck in a zone he tried to stay in.

So here you were, waiting and waiting. You’ve watched tv, you tried to distract yourself with countless minutes of scrolling but to no avail. Now you sat in a bathtub, alone, waiting for when he would finally come home to you.

[2:03 AM] You: when are you coming home? I’m so lonely 🙁

[2:04 AM] Captain 🖤: I’m not sure baby, I’ve hit a dead end.

You sighed to yourself, knowing it meant he wasn’t leaving that studio any time soon. You’ve always heard of writers block for books, for english majors, but never for song writers or producers.

Perhaps he just needed to take his mind off it and refresh. But god, you were so horny.

[2:06 AM] You: well maybe you should take a break?

[2:07 AM] You: *1 attachment*

Hongjoong picked up his phone, eyebrow raised as he wondered what it was you could’ve sent him. Maybe it was a funny video, some random meme you found whilst scrolling on twitter to cheer him up a bit.

Oh no, it definitely wasn’t that. It was far from anything he could’ve been thinking— perhaps even the last thing on his mind this late at night.

[2:07 AM] You:

Hongjoong felt his dick twitch in his pants as he stared at your wet legs. He imagined what your cunt would look like under all that water, begging for it to be touched— touched by him. He rubbed his clothed cock softly, feeling his bulge grow at your sudden message.

[2:11 AM] Captain 🖤: Bathing this late? 😳

You smiled, feeling your heart pound. You rarely took a moment to send anything this risqué to Hongjoong, but when you did it sure made your body heat up.

You got out of the bath, drying yourself off and wrapping yourself with a towel. Hongjoong waited eagerly for your response, unsure whether to expect another photo or just a plain response from you.

[2:15 AM] You: is it wrong for a girl to send a photo when her dear boyfriend is missed ?🙁

You looked in the mirror, fixing the bath towel just slightly for him to see enough of your chest, even if it was merely a shadow of cleavage. You held the phone out in front of you, snapping a quick picture and sending it him as you walked out of the bathroom and into your shared room to change.

[2:16 AM] You:

Hongjoong quickly clicked on your message, rolling his eyes playfully at the photo. He continued to rub his clothed cock softly, practically drooling at much you liked to tease him.

[2:18 AM] Captain🖤: Baby stop teasing me. Show me how pretty you are.

Your face flushed red as you thought about his cock and how badly you wished to feel it while he leaked all over your hands. You slipped on some casual lingerie for him, admiring yourself in the mirror before texting him back.

[2:20 AM] You: but what’s the fun in that :(

You stood there for a moment, biting your lip softly.

[2:20 AM] You: i wish i was there to see the look on your face Joongie.

Hongjoong sighed to himself, placing his phone down. He pulled his member out of his pants, rubbing the tip of his cock slowly. He threw his head back, stroking himself gently as he thought of your body. He wished he was home with you, feeling your curves as he thrusted himself into you.

[2:25 AM] Captain🖤: If you keep teasing me, you won’t get anything when I come home to you.

You giggled, holding your phone out in front of you to take a picture.

[2:28 AM] You: ay eye, captain 😉

[2:28 AM] You:

Hongjoong’s eyes widened as his strokes grew faster. His cock leaking onto his fingertips as his veins pulsated.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty.” he spoke to himself.

You stuck your hand into your underwear, running your fingers against your clit softly. You moaned softly, arching your back as your bud reacted to the sensation. You fastened your pace, thinking of his hands working your cunt as you laid there and submit to him.

You quickly pulled off your panties, pointing the phone to your sopping folds. You played with your slick, whimpering as it webbed around your fingers. You snapped a picture, sending it to Hongjoong immediately.

[2:35 AM] You: *1 Attachment*

[2:35 AM] You: i wish these were your hands :( feels so good

Hongjoong admired your soaked folds, how it glistened in the flash of your camera. He let out a loud groan, covering his cock with his pre cum as he imagine himself inside of you.

[2:37 AM] Captain 🖤: Look at my pretty girl.

[2:38 AM] Captain 🖤: Send a video for me, please baby.

You dug into your drawer, pulling something out from it. You laid back in bed, pressing it against your cunt softly. A soft hum came from you as you pushed it inside of you. You moved it slowly, imagining it was his cock inside of you as it hit your sweet spot.

You held your phone in front of your cunt, the flash capturing your slicked folds as the toy moved in and out of you. You moaned softly, making sure the video caught sound of you enjoying yourself just for him. You hit send, continuing to play with yourself as you ached to cum.

[2:45 AM] You: *2 Videos*

[2:46 AM] You: come home joongie, she misses you.

Hongjoong played the video, watching as you fucked yourself slowly. Your breathless moans and whispers were music to his ears, making him go haywire as he tried to keep his composure. His strokes grew faster, feeling all that built up pressure within his cock as he watched your swollen cunt cum all over the toy.

He couldn’t take it anymore and he was sure he’d regret it tomorrow, but he needed you. He gave up trying to resist it.

You phone buzzed next to you, the familiar ringtone letting you know it was your beloved boyfriend.

“Hi baby. How’s work?”

Your sweet succulent voice made his breath hitch as he heard the faint sound of your cunt being played with in the background.

“Cut the shit.” Hongjoong quickly put his member away, getting up from the desk as he saved his progress on the computer and turned it off.

“I’m coming home. Be ready for me when I get there.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the lust in his voice, making you stop what you were doing. Chills ran up your spine as you thought of what he could possibly do to you, especially after all the teasing you’ve done.

“You’re hearing me, right baby?”

Hongjoong packed up his things, his mind still racing with thoughts of you and your body, how much you missed and craved for his touch.

“Mhm. Loud and clear.”

A smug smile appeared on his face as he grabbed his keys, turning off the lights in the studio.

“Good. I have a lot to give for someone who likes to be a tease.”

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: and that concludes our 14 days of kinks!! ty all sm for joining me on this little event of mine! ive added some extra days to the masterlist so def check those out if you’re interested! :3

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @h4untedgrl @rvereri @scarfac3 @jjongibears @kittykat-25 @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @joonezra @honeyhwaaa @potentialgay @dollywoo @losrpark @motherseonghwa23 @inniesfanblog @stephanieeeyang @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub @katsukis1wife @unbel1ve4ble @sojuxxi @bbykaixx @nopension @bbdeongi

★ if you were apart of the taglist for this event & would like to be added permanently, pls comment to let me know!

OR fill out the more detailed form here! :))

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you deserve better.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, size kink, skinny dipping, angsty, kinda asshole/grumpy Joel, mention of alcohol

Celia's note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG. but i threw in that much request angst i hope yall enjoy!!!!! Also happy valentines day!!! peace n luv fr

Aint Right part 1 Ain't Right part 2

Recently, life has been great for you.

Winter was gone as fast as it came, and spring started to take root in Jackson. Your favorite season.

The months that passed since Christmas had been like a dream. You and Joel's relationship had been all unicorns and rainbows—well, to you, anyway.

Finally, you were starting to pry open the gates to Joel's thoughts. Becoming close with him meant so much to you, even when he would off-handedly share information about himself by accident, you'd immediately commit it to long-term memory.

He didn't like to talk about himself much, but when he did, you were all ears.

Joel, on the other hand, didn't have to try as hard with you.

There was a constant flow of words out of your mouth, especially around him. You couldn't help it, really. You talked when you were nervous, and you were always nervous around Joel—that never went away.

But all in all, you were overflowing with happiness.

Joel, however, was feeling a little differently.

Ever since this relationship with you started, he's had this subtle ache about it.

His insecurities of being an old man were eating at him, day by day. His conscious just couldn't stop pestering him with the idea that you deserved better.

He felt that by being intimate with you, as much as he liked it, was holding you back from living your life.

By allowing you to indulge in this relationship with him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was setting your life up for failure.

He was picturing some White Fang situation where you were some wild animal that was getting too close to him, and in order to prevent you from getting hurt by domestication, he'd have to throw rocks at you and tell you to 'go on an' git'. Even though he deeply cared about you.

These insecurites really came to the surface whenever you two were in bed together.

He was 56 years old, for crying out loud. He had two rounds in him max, anything more might give him a heart attack.

He'd clock the little disappointed pout you'd make when he couldn't go again, even when you tried to act otherwise. He was just in his head about the entire thing—which was so unlike him.

You were doin' things to him, thats for damn sure.

Joel couldn't deny the affect you had on him anymore. You were starting to become a top priority; he was unable to stop himself from putting you first.

How was it so easy for you to become to important in his life?

He pondered this thought while coming back from a supply run, riding in on horseback. The sound of hooves crunching twigs and rocks was an oddly theraputic sound, one that helped stop him from thinking so much.

Upon his return, Joel drops off his supplies and guides his horse back into its stable. He gives it a few loving pats before leaving, walking down the main road with the breeze in his hair.

His eyes scan the people crowding the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite face.

And he does.

Eventually, Joel spots you, helping an older lady up her porch steps. You’re smiling, eyes sparkling like everything in the world was all fine and dandy.

It never got easier seeing you wear cooler clothes in public.

Sure, he's seen your naked body plenty of times, but there was something about you in a tank top, jean shorts and cowboy boots that just did things to him.

His heart tugs in his chest as he watches you complete the kind act, skipping back down the steps once the lady waves you goodbye.

That’s when you see him, across the street, just staring at you.

Your face lights up like fireworks when you notice. It always did. But Joel never got tired of seeing it.

He watches you jog his way, nearly running straight into him but managing to stop yourself last second.

“Hey! How’d that run go?” You ask, beaming up at him and trying your hardest not to smack his lips with yours.

“Good.” He nods, clenching his jaw.

Jesus, you looked so good right now—Joel was having a very hard time focusing on what to say when you were distracting him with your bangin’ bod.

“Good.” You copy, finding a moment to assess him. He seemed tense, more tense than usual. Joel knows you’re about to ask him what’s wrong—and he can’t face that question right now.

So he speaks before he knows what he’s saying. “You should come out with me again, next time, I mean. Actually try n' help instead of.. flirt.”

He's disgusing his intense feelings for you with an insult, because of course he is.

You scoff at his diss, rolling your eyes. “You loved my flirtin’.” You copied his texan drawl to mock him, earning you a glare.

“Well, I’d love to. Is it a date?” You purr, stepping into his personal space, prompting Joel to make quick use of his self control.

If he could act on his impulse, he would have bent you over and fucked you right there on the sidewalk.

He clears his throat before nodding. “Sure. Tomorrow. It’s a date.” He bites out like it pains him, because in truth, he'd rather take you out to dinner or something than another stupid supply run.

You’re smiling again, swaying on your feet. You make a few glances around to make sure no one’s watching before popping up and kissing him on his cheek.

“Kay, see you then." You chirp ever so sweetly, walking away in your small jean shorts.

You were really tugging on his heart strings.

When tomorrow comes, you're sitting on your porch swing, waiting for Joel to come and get you.

You were excited—mainly because you two would be out of sight from prying eyes. You could act on all your impulses.

You didn't mind people figuring you two out, you're kind of sure they already had, but you felt that Joel did care, and you wanted to respect his boundaires. Even though he never made those clear.

But, you felt you were pushing it with that kiss on the cheek yesterday, and you didn't want him upset with you.

The sudden thought made you worry.

Maybe he was upset with you. He did glare at you yesterday.

You probably did something, your anxious mind tells you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts due to the sound of hooves clopping against the road. Looking up, you're met with the pleasure-inducing sight of Joel.

He's walking with a horse beside him, holding its lead with a trained hand.

He's wearing that faded gray shirt and those jeans that seem like they're hanging on by a thread. So casual.

But, then you take a closer look at his appearance. He...trimmed his beard and attempted to slick back his hair...?

...Was he trying to look nice for you?

"Did you get all pretty for me?" You ask with a giddy smile, skipping down your steps.

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath before rolling his eyes. Yet, you swear you can see the faintest bit of blush on his cheeks. "You ready to go?" He asks, gesturing to the horse.

He's trying to change the subject, but you need to let him know you appreciate his efforts.

"You look really good, Joel. I mean—you always look good, but today especially." You bring your hand up to feel his hair, smiling happily. He can tell you're being geniune, but he's never been good with compliments.

"Thanks, sweetheart—now get on the damn horse." He sounds exasperated, but theres a small smile on his lips.

He helps you up onto the back before climbing on himself. "Wrap yer arms 'round me. Don't fall off." He murmurs, steering the horse towards the gates.

You slide up so that your chest is pressed against his back, and outstretch your arms to wrap around him. Once you two successfully leave the town and no one is watching, that's when you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade.

It's cozy. It's intimate. It's Joel.

You could fall asleep against him like this.

He remains silent because he knows how peaceful you feel right now. He wants to let you enjoy the moment.

You're admiring the forest scenary, occasionally resting your eyes. You don't know where Joel is taking you—maybe he's heading straight towards the middle of nowhere to drop you off and leave. Getting rid of you probably would've been in his best interest.

You're smiling at the thought because you know yourself. Even if he did do that, you'd find a way back to him. Like a loyal dog.

"Wait," Your voice cracks through the silence. Joel stops the horse, turning his head back to look at you. "Is that a lake?" He turns his head to where you're looking, his eyes catching the blue water that you're so enamoured by.

"Don't know what else it would be."

You roll your eyes at his smartassary. "...Can we go?"

"To the lake?" He reiterates, a confused look on his face. "'N do what?"

You shrug your shoulders, feeling stupid for asking all the sudden.

Immediately, Joel notices how you shrink into yourself. He wants to punch himself in the dick because he's being an asshole.

To fix his mistake, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and steers the horse down to the body of water.

You're giddy again in no time, a soft but excited squeal escaping your throat.

He manages to find a small clearing within the brush; open tall grass, a fallen tree trunk perfect for sitting, and direct access to the lake.

"So pretty." You muse, simply in awe of the nature around you.

You didn't really leave town much—only when you had to. So, seeing stuff like this, really meant a lot to you.

Joel gets off the horse and immediately turns to help you down. His hands find themselves on your hips while yours latch onto his shoulders.

He lowers you effortlessly, his grasp lingering for longer than it needed to.

Your skin lights on fire at his touch, dirty thoughts instantly flooding your brain.

The lake, the seculsion, the tension...there was really only one thing you were thinking about right now.

"Hey, what if we just...didn't go on that supply run?" You muse, avoiding eye contact for a moment because no matter how close you've gotten with Joel, he still made you nervous.

He shoots you a questioning look, which gives you the idea to show rather than tell.

You step closer to the waters edge, beginning to take off your boots. Joel's watching with that stern look, but it quickly fades, replaced with lust when you start shedding off your clothes.

First your shorts, then your tank top.

"Let's go swimming!" You say with that happy smile, the one that makes his heart beat soar.

He can't stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your stark naked body.

Not only did Joel enjoy your pert breasts and supple ass, he was also equally obsessed with the not overtly sexual things about you. Your hair, shoulders, collar bone, forearms, the curve of your spine—everything, he was consumed by it all.

He realizes that he needs to answer you, but all that comes out is a scoff.

"Hey—no. We don't know what the hells in that water." He huffs as his boner peaks through his jeans.

"Fine, guess I'll swim alone then." You say nonchalantly, knowing if you went in, odds were, Joel wouldn't be far behind.

And you were right.

As soon as you enter the cool water, you see Joel starting to undress in the corner of your eye.

You pretened you're not watching, and eventually he joins you in the lake.

You've waded out rather far into the water, waiting to speak until you know Joel is close.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" You ask, letting your body float above the surface, limbs outstretched while you stared up at the fluffy clouds.

If you could do this forever, you would. Naked as the day you were born, floating in warm spring water with Joel's company—maybe this was heaven.

Sure felt like it.

You almost don't even notice Joel's palm run up your shin and thigh, only when his hand lightly drifts over your lower stomach, is when you become all too aware.

Yet, he doesn't venture south.

Instead, he makes a path further up your stomach, then your ribs, then the valley of your breasts, until he rests his hand over your heart.

You stare at his face as he completes this insane act, completely baffled at the fact that he seemed so entranced and calm, while you were trying not to freak out.

He notices your stare, and finally meets your eye contact. No words leave his mouth—he can't seem to find any that feel right.

But he's thinking about how beautiful you are. How sweet and doting, how smart and witty. Everything about you encompassed into a few short words just didn't feel worthy enough.

But you can't just leave things the way they are.

Slowly, you situate yourself around him, attaching to his body like a koala bear. Your arms slide around his shoulders while your legs wrap around his waist.

Skin to skin, face to face, so fucking intense.

Joel's strong arms find themselves around your torso, keeping you close to him.

"Yeah, it does feel nice." Joel replies, his voice soft, his eyes even softer.

You smile, big and geniune, a feeling of bliss taking over you. "Isn't this so much better than some silly supply run?"

Joel rolls his eyes, which spurs you on even more.

"Come on, admit it; you'd rather be out here with me, than some stinky convience store looting pills." You tighten your legs a little around his torso, feeling your cunt become flush with his bare stomach.

You feel a surge of pride when his breath hitches and his erect cock prods at your ass.

But it doesn't take long for his expression to fall back into its natural scowl.

"M'not admitin' shit." He murmurs, bringing a hand up to move your wet hair over your shoulder and onto your back. It's an absentminded motion, one that Joel isn't really thinking about doing.

He just felt the urge to touch you.

You giggle at him, dropping your forehead to his shoulder to laugh.

Joel huffs, trying to stop smirking because your giggle is contagious. "Quit." Is all he says, shaking his head. "Can't believe you got me out 'ere doin' this shit." He grumbles, adjusting his hold on you slightly.

"What 'shit'?" You mimick him and his texan drawl, earning you a stern glare.

"Naked in a lake like m'some fuckin' teenager." He speaks with an unamused expression, before his eyes land back onto you and his gaze softens. "What're you doin' to me, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question, but he says it like he's truly desperate for an answer.

You're not sure how to respond. His eye contact is making your brain all foggy.

It's silent.

You can only hear the rustling water, your breathing, and the general nature sounds in the distance.

Joel knows he confused you with his words, so he takes a moment to look away.

"Alright," He huffs out eventually. "Time to go."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest because he's already walking back to the shore, his arm remaining secured tightly around your back, basically carrying you.

You're not ready to leave, but you know Joel is, so you just opt for a dejected sigh.

He lets you back down on your feet when you're both on the grass, lingering his hand on the small of your back when he picks up your clothes. He uncrinckles your shirt before opening it up so you could easily put it on.

"This is becoming a habit of yours." You murmur softly, putting on the tank top and cringing at the way it sticks to your wet skin.

"Mm?" Joel doesn't know what you're referring to. He's never realized his pattern of clothing you. It was a simple act, but one you found endearing.

"Nothin'." You chirp, sliding on your shorts and boots.

Joel looks at you assessingly while buttoning his jeans back up, sucking in his stomach to zip them.

You're looking right back at him, admiring the way his wet hair looks, how the grays peak out in the most perfect way.

In a nervous manner, you shift on your feet, sliding your hands down into your jean pockets. "You sure you don't wanna...fool around?" You muse, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Joel smirks down at the ground as he continues to button up his shirt, shaking his head.

"You're too late kid, should've asked when we were naked." He's teasing, walking back over to the horse and gesturing for you to come.

You groan out, dragging your feet as you walk over to him and the horse. You were being dramatic, and Joel see's right through it.

"Quit whinin'. C'mon," He mutters, grabbing you by the hips to hoist you back onto the saddle.

"You're no fun, old man." You mumble, which freezes Joel in his tracks.

He doesn't know why, but that one off-handed comment ignites a blazing string of destructive thoughts.

As if he wasn't already insecure enough about being old and no fun.

His brain is jump-starting the self-depricating train of thought he had grown accustomed to, only this time, it had more fuel because you unknowingly confirmed it.

Of course, that isn't what you meant at all. It was just a teasing little comment, one you didn't think twice about. You weren't actually upset—at all.

Nevertheless, Joel's already in deep.

Slowly, he swings himself behind you onto the horse, grabbing the reins and starting forward.

You're quick to notice his demeanor, but choosing to keep your mouth shut.

The entire ride back is silent.

It was just like the ride there, only with a more suffocating air.

You have an inkling, but you have no idea the extent of his turmoil behind you.

Eventually, you two make it back to the stables. Joel helps you down from the horse, moving like a robot with no facial expression.

He's got that look in his eye that worries you. Every atom in your body wants to ask him what's wrong, but you also don't want to pry.

However, Joel would never open up to you unprompted. So, you at least try.

Your hand drifts upwards to his face, smoothing some of his hair down by his ear. "Is everything okay?" You finally ask, your voice purposefully soft and light so you don't startle him like he was some wild animal.

He inhales through his nose and clenches his jaw.

Oh.

Something was really wrong.

Your gaze goes from slightly weary to concerned in a flash, nervously biting down on your lower lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask, very evidently willing to do whatever he needed.

Joel had never been good with emotional timing. At the end of the day, he was still a man.

“We’ve gotta stop this.” He blurts.

You’re still for a moment, confused with his abrupt and vague words. You wait patiently for an elaboration.

Eventually, one comes, to Joel’s own dismay.

“We can’t see each other anymore—not like this.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

And then another.

You’re frozen with dread.

It’s like your body has forgotten all functions as you sit there and stare at him.

Surprisingly, the only thing you’re able to think of in this life changing moment, is the Christmas party at Maria and Tommy’s.

You’re thinking about how Joel fucked you in the guest bedroom, and how he said he didn’t want you having sex with anyone else.

You remember how happy you felt—like you two were exclusive or something.

How stupid were you?

With a quick intake of air, you swallow and look away.

“Did I do something wrong?” You croak, your voice akin to a wilting flower.

Joel is wracked with guilt the moment he hears you. But his mind is forcing him to do this.

“No—no. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. This is all me, I fucked up and let this go on for too long.”

His answer provides no relief.

“But, I thought we—I thought you liked me?” You’re stumbling over your words because you’re so distraught, trying to blink away your persistent tears.

Shit.

Joel can hardly look at you. He would crumble and die if he did—the sadness in your expression is like several stabs to the gut.

Truth is, he did like you.

Thats why he wants to end things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can manage, head hanging down to look at the dirt.

You’re not looking at him either, instead opting to blankly stare at one of the horses in the stable.

“So,” You start, your voice cracking because you’ve started crying at this point. “You don’t wanna hook up, does that mean we can still hang out?”

Joel takes a big deep breath before answering.

"It would be best if we didn't see each other at all." Finally, he makes eye contact with you, and immediately regrets it.

You look like you've just been shot, for christsake—might as well have.

It was like he just tore your heart out, threw it to the ground, curb-stomped it, and kicked it down a gutter.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding slowly, trying to seem some-what chill about things. Inside, however, it was like World War III. "Uhm, I'm just gonna go home." Your voice is a croak, and Joel watches with the utmost remorse as you walk away.

It feels like shock.

Was this a break up? Were you even together in the first place? Why didn't he want to see you at all? Questions, questions, and more questions rattle in your brain as you shuffle away, hands shaking and eyes pouring.

You look down at the ring Joel gifted you on your finger, debting whether you should take it off or not.

Joel feels awful.

And it's not like the awful he felt the very first time he regected you—this time it's far more painful. It's a deeper wound, an uglier, gross, puss-infested cut that keeps getting worse the farther you walk away.

He thought he'd feel some relief.

He thought that after ending things, he would be rid of that nagging voice in his head.

But no, it remained.

Only now, it barked thoughts of wrong-doing.

'Why would you do that? Things were going great, you've fucked everything. You just broke her heart—’ and it goes on and on and on.

For a moment, the panic he feels registers in his mind as a heart attack. Thats what it felt like, anyway.

He has to brace himself against one of the wood beams in the barn, aggressively rubbing his chest to try and get his heart rate normal. Joel loses his breath in the process, not realizing that he's having a panic attack.

Whatever happens next, you don't see.

You never looked back after you walked away. *** "I don't know why you're all caught up about this, Joel." Tommy admits, a disappointed expression on his face.

Joel glares at his younger brother from the bar top, clearly disgruntled by Tommy's inability to understand his side of the situation.

It had been exactly 17 hours since Joel cut things off with you. He'd been drinking for at least 10 of those hours.

Somewhat drunkenly, he had told Tommy a very short and curt version of what happened.

But he got the picture. Tommy sighs, hanging his head for a minute before bringing it back up to speak again. "All m'sayin' is, it's the end of the damn world, Joel. Her 'future' ain’t graunteed; she'll be lucky if she makes it past 30 with the way things are. She's been 'round long enough to know that herself, n'for some fuckin' reason, she wants you—"

"She don't know what the hell she wants."

"See—that's where you're wrong, Joel." Tommy slams the whiskey glass that he was cleaning down on the bar, fed up and frustrated. "I've known 'er longer than you. She's a smart girl n'you're sellin' her short. Wake the hell up." He bites out before walking away, clearly finished with the conversation.

He had been watching and listening to Joel mop and groan about it all day and night—he had enough.

Other than the anger from being talked to in that manner welling inside of Joel, there was also a moment of clarity.

As much as it killed him to admit, Tommy was right.

He was selling you short.

The world is too ugly and fucked up for him not to act like everyday might be his last. He would be stupid to not just settle down and be happy with you for however long he had left.

Shit.

All alone in Tipsy Bison, Joel was slowly beginning to realize how majorly he screwed up.

He ruined things because he was too damn scared.

He didn't think there was a worse feeling than this—dealing with this huge fucking mistkae.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to come back from how things ended.

That look that you had in your eyes...Fuck. Joel didn't think he even deserved a second chance.

But goddammit if he didn't try.

After throwing the rest of his whiskey back, Joel got up from the barstool and hurriedly walked out, slamming the doors behind him.

He marches all the way to your place, ignoring whoever tried to talk to him on the way.

He had to do this. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

Finally, he makes it to your quaint little home, haulting in front of it. There is some imaginary force stopping him, something pulling him back.

It's that nagging voice in his head again, the one that caused this whole mess in the first place.

But this time, he ignores it, and trudges up your porch steps.

Joel knocks rather forcefully, his jaw clenching when you don't answer within seconds.

He bangs on the door again with his fist, hard, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

When you still don't answer, he enters anyway with your spare key (he always kept it on him), calling out your name as soon as he steps inside.

You hear him from your bed upstairs, though you honestly think you're hallucinating. You've been crying for hours, the only sound in your ears were your sniffles and sobs.

His heavy footsteps seem to get louder and louder, and when he calls out your name outside you're door, that's when you realize you weren't hallucinating at all.

You sit up just as Joel opens your door, your eyes wide with shock and tears.

He takes a couple steps inside before he sees how utterly devastated you looked. The sight of you renders him immoveable.

He feels…like the biggest asshole-asshat-douchebag-fuckwad-dickhead thats ever walked the planet.

“Why…are you here?” Your broken voice asks, trying your best to hold back tears.

Even after all he did, you still spoke so softly, all your respect for him still there.

He had talked himself up the entire walk over, but all his words were dying on his tongue.

He was beginning to think that there was nothing he could say that would make what he did right.

“Babygirl I—”

He sees you psychically flinch at his voice, and it makes his heart break all over again.

His feet carry him to the edge of your bed, hands coming out to hold your face.

You’re not sure how to process his touch, not sure how to process any of what’s happening, but you’re trying your best.

“I was wrong,” his thumb is wiping off the tear stains on your cheeks, a forced gentleness to his touch. “So fuckin’ wrong, babygirl. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing his words, you can’t stop the floodgate of your tears. You start bawling, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

“I was so scared.” You cry, bringing your hands up to latch onto him. You wanted to explain more, explain why you were scared—because having Joel and then suddenly not having him, was like ripping your heart out.

He can’t scoop you up in his arms fast enough.

He gets in the bed with you, lifting you onto his lap while he cradles your head to his chest, kissing the top of your scalp.

"M'not lettin' you go. I promise." He husks, his grip on you strong.

And Joel kept this promise.

He held you the entire night, ensuring that you were secure and warm.

In the morning, you immediately asked what changed his mind.

"I was frustrated." He starts, exhaustion etched into his face. "I couldn't understand why you wanted me. Felt I was keeping you from some great life—a young husband n' some white picket fence. But..life here is probably as good as it's gonna get. And this," He looks to the both of you, alluding to the relationship you shared. "Is really fuckin' good."

Your heart is crumbling at his confession.

Discovering that he spent so much time insecure about things, both infuriated and saddened you.

When you were about to respond and explain away his worries, he speaks again.

"M'not lettin' you go. What I did was a mistake. M'sorry."

You're crying again, sniffling softly against him.

"You should've just fuckin' talked to me," You whimper, burying your face into his neck. "I could've—”

"Ain't nothin' you could'a done. You never did anythin' wrong." Joel reassures, pulling you from his shoulder so he can look at your face. "You gon' forgive me?"

"Obviously," you mumble, looking at him with a fake frustrated expression. "I meant it when I said I've always been yours."

And just like that, things were resolved.

You brought your hand down to grip his flannel, sighing into his chest. Joel also sighed in relief, realizing that you weren't going anywhere.

To raise the spirits in the room, you crane your neck up to look up at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"M'still mad at you. How are you gonna make it up to me?" Initally, you weren't really insinuading anything sexual—you were thinking he could take you for dinner or ice cream or something.

But Joel has something different in mind.

He gently grabs your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you how he wanted. His tongue is warm in your mouth, his mustache prickly against your face.

When he breaks away, you're out of breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I got an idea." Joel mumbles, carressing your jawline with his thumb.

Slowly, he sits up only to position himself between your thighs. With his calloused hands, he slides his palm up the planes of your legs until he reaches your pants.

You shiver when he dips his fingers under your waist band, pulling them down agonizingly slowly.

"This okay?" He asks in a gentle tone, one that makes your stomach do flips.

"Yes," You say immediately and breathlessly. "Very okay."

The corners of his mouth turn up to resemble a smirk, before his gaze returns back to the area between your legs. He runs his fingers down your clothed slit, feeling the way your wetness coated the stringy fabric.

You let out a soft gasp, slightly bucking your hips, hungry for more of his touch.

He plays there for a while before finally taking your underwear off, setting it somewhere on the bed.

Joel inhales through his nose when he sees your glistening cunt, trying to not cum in his pants at just the sight. He doesn't stop his impulse to pull your folds apart, running his thumb along your lips.

He's being so slow and gentle—it’s making your heart rate each dangerous levels.

His thumb then ventures up to lovingly rub your clit, his eyes scanning your face to watching your reaction.

Your legs are shaking as you kept them apart for Joel, your hands fisting the sheets as you cope with the sensations he's allowing you.

Your chest is heaving up and down and your eyes are glazed over with a hazy fog—one that Joel loves to see.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel lowers his head and connects his lips to your clit.

The act makes you jolt, mostly because you weren't expecting it.

His tongue laps at you, slowly at first, but then something shifts in Joel.

It's like the hunger for your cunt overwhelms him, and his grip on your thighs tighten. Within seconds, he's devouring you like a man starved, licking long strips up your cunt before focusing on sucking your clit.

You can't stop the moans and mewls slipping past your lips, and you don't really want to. You want Joel to know how good he's making you feel.

"OhhhfuckJoel," You whine, shooting your hands down to grab his salt and pepper hair. He focuses solely on your bundle of nerves with his tongue, using his fingers to give your desperately empty hole some attention.

When he slides two fingers inside, you effectively fall apart.

Tear prick in the lining of your eyes, your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out his name.

The fact that he's never eaten you out before and he's been this good at it the entire time, felt criminal. You honestly might've been more offended that he waited so long to reveal this talent than when he tried to end things.

"Dontstopdontstopdontstop," You sob, feeling yourself reach that climax you craved.

You come with a loud moan, and Joel lets you ride it out on his tongue and fingers.

When your body goes limp, thats when Joel lets up. He brings his head out from your legs and slips his digits out of your spasming hole.

You mewl at the feeling, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" You asks, voice quiet and cracked.

"M'fifty-six years old—been around the block, babygirl." He's face is glistening with your juices, and his mouth is wearing that lopsided smile of his. It makes you wanna smile back.

"...Damn. So I'm not the first, huh?" You huff, not upset in the slightest, just wanting to tease him a little.

He chuckles and unzips his pants, letting his cock slap against his stomach. "No sweetheart, you ain't the first." He rasps, effortlessly manhandling you to straddle his lap. "But you are gon be my last."

His hands caress the plush surface of your hips, kneading them like dough while his eyes scan your face.

You're blushing so hard, your face probably looks like a spanked ass.

He really did have a knack for leaving you breathless with those one-liners of his.

You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, looking back down into his big brown eyes. All you can do is stare, because your brain is too focused on how hard your heart is beating to come up with a response.

"What? Now you ain't got nothin' to say?" He husks, his massive palm venturing down to your grab and squeeze your ass. Your back straightens and your lips part like you want to say something—but you're not quite sure what. "C'mon, use those pretty lips."

An idea pops into your brain.

"I'd rather use these lips," You whisper close to his mouth as you raise your hips up to hover over his member, slowly dipping his tip inside your warm hole.

"Fuck," Joel grunts, exhaling through his nose.

You grin at his reaction, lowering yourself down further with bated breath. You watch as his head lolls back and his grip tightens on your waist.

"What? Now you have nothing to say?" You mock, even though you're equally as breathless as he is.

He flashes you a glare before sliding a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand doesn't let you break away from his lips, and you don't plan to.

His tongue establishes dominance in your mouth, which you eagerly let happen. It's passionate, deep, bordering on punishing—sometime during, he manages to rip your top off, leaving you completely nude. But sooner or later, you both decide breathing might be a good idea.

You break away, chests heaving, mouths panting.

Eventually, you sink all the way down on him, giggling deliriously when you make eye contact again. You decide to forget your fake little fued, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Have I ever told you how big your dick is?" You mewl, squirming your hips around a bit but not lifting them up and down. It has Joel reeling.

His hands are holding you so tight, you're sure that it'll leave a bruise. "No," Joel huffs out rather distractedly, his eyes laser-focused on the way your cunt is gushing all over his lap. But you swear you can see the faintest blush on his tan skin.

"Well—your dick is real big." You whisper nearly inaudibly, making Joel snap his gaze back to your face. A lazy smile curls at your lips before you begin dragging you tight cunt up and down on his violently erect cock.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief, as he often does, but is unable to answer becase the feeling of being inside you is rendering him speechless. His hand absent-mindedly dips down to rub your clit—the act has you doubling over onto his shoulder, starting to bounce on him like your life depended on it.

"OhJoel, Iloveitsomuch," You blabble into his ear, noticing how he had taken the reigns at this point. He was manually lifting your hips, bringing them down with intense vigor.

He was stretching you out so good and his tip was so fucking deep—you were having a hard time staying conscious and not going brain dead.

It appears Joel's in the same boat too. "Fuck—you're killin' me." He grunts, bucking his hips up to meet you.

You giggle airily before immediately getting your karma—his dick paired with the position and the way his face looked—your cunt clenches down on him and you cum hard.

Your body jolts as you grab onto him, not expecting him to keep fucking you. But his grip on your hips doesn't falter, and Joel continues to bounce you up and down.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt. Just letting him manhandle your body and do what he wanted was a surprising relief—even if you did just come.

You're reduced to whimpers and moans as you slump into his chest, letting him ground you and fuck your abused cunt.

Finally, slams you down one final time, unloading deep into your warmth. His groans sound like music to yours hears, especially because you know it's you that's making him feel so good.

He's panting in your ear, slowly starting to move his hands up to wrap around your torso.

He's hugging you before you can register it; his big arms securing you tightly to his chest while you both tried to catch your breaths.

Seconds pass...which turn into minutes, and you're wondering if Joel ever plans on letting you go.

He's made no efforts to remove his dick from inside you—it's soft now, but still buried deep nonetheless.

Your pussy will occasionally flutter around him, which'll earn a soft sigh from his lips.

You place a soft kiss on his temple before straightening your back to look at his face. "You tryin' to make sure your seed takes or something'?" You murmur, that teasing lilt in your voice that Joel is all too familiar with.

"Somethin' like that." He mutters into your chest, pulling you down with him to lay on the bed. "Want me to pull out?" He asks after a moment, scanning your face for any traces of displeasure.

You nestle into his chest, hooking your leg over his waist to lodge him deeper inside. "Never."

You and Joel fuck all day, all night and even into the morning. With, of course, breaks in between so Joel can recharge his stamina.

It happens multiple times in your bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the hallway, and even in the kitchen come morning.

Joel was making coffee while you were traipsing around with just his flannel on—humming along to some made-up song. It was like you two were an old married couple; him hovering over the moka pot and you scowering the fridge for some breakfast.

"Blueberry pancakes orrrr...." Joel watches as your head is stuck in the fridge, trying to find ingredients for meals. "Blueberry pancakes."

He snorts. "Surprise me." He huffs sarcastically, knowing he'd be eating a plate of blueberry pancakes.

You grinned and started making the batch, feeling Joel's eyes all over you because of the way his flannel was slipping off your shoulder because it was far too big on you.

His stare was turning you on—so you just bent yourself over the cool surface of the countertop and Joel did the rest.

Eventually, your safari of fun had to stop sometime during lunch. You both had succesfully cleaned yourselves and had started dressing for the day.

"I just told Maria I'd help set up." You murmur distractedly, tying your hair up in the bathroom mirror. Maria was holding a little town party in one of the recreational centers, and asked you, as well as some others to help her with the decorations.

There's a pause before Joel steps into the tiny bathroom, situating himself behind you and sliding his large hand over your stomach. He places a soft kiss to your head before dropping his hands to softly squeeze your hips.

"I'll walk you there."

A beat.

"You will?" He nods in confirmation, which has you turning around to look at him. You smile and tilt your head playfully. "You gonna walk me to first period too?"

Joel immediately rolls his eyes and scoffs, though you swear you can see him smirk.

"Smartass." He huffs out, grabbing your forearms to move you out of the way.

"Kidding." You chime, leaning on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. You weren't sure why you were so surprised by his offer, but you could tell it was a sign of something.

Maybe he wasn't stressed about people finding out about you two anymore. He never said that he was—but you could tell.

And it wasn't like he was embarrassed of you or anything—he's just always been a private person. It wasn't anyone's business who he was falling asleep next to every night.

But you—he'd be willing to change that for you.

When you both are ready, you exit your house, locking the door behind you. You look up to see your neighbor watching as you and Joel descend your porch steps.

You never liked her—gossipy woman who was always sticking her nose in places it didn't belong.

Quickly, your gaze snaps to his face, wanting to see if he was okay or anxious or whatever it may be.

But Joel's just looking right back down at you. "Lead the way, pretty lady." He murmurs lowly, his jaw clenched but his eyes soft.

You smile, and fall into step with him as you both walk down the sidewalk. The birds are chirping, the breeze feels amazing, and Joel is cracking smiles at your jokes.

Life felt good again.

Suddenly, Tommy appears out of nowhere, as he often does, blocking you and Joel's path.

You freeze, trying to keep a neutral face. You still weren't sure how to act around people with Joel, so you were just planning to play if off like you guys were just two buddies walking or whatever.

"Hey," Tommy greets, looking at you and then Joel, his eyebrows pinched together like he was confused at seeing the two of you in the same vicinity.

Oh. He probably knew what happened, or bits and pieces of it.

For some reason, you feel anxious that Joel might be feeling anxious, so you look down at your feet and nervously fidget with your hands.

"What're you two doin'?" Tommy asks, a detective look in his eyes as he shifted on his feet.

Joel clears his throat before looking down and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his calloused grip. He can't help but glare at Tommy with a stern face, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

Your breath catches.

Tommy's eyes venture down to your joined hands, then you, then Joel.

After a beat, a sharp and knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Well I'll be damned." THE END.

[magical-reid]

The Bucky Barnes Cake Conspiracy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (implied) Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: When Wanda convinces you and Natasha to do the “Hear Me Out” cake trend, you think it’s just harmless fun. That is, until every single one of your picks is a different version of Bucky Barnes, the entire Tower gets involved, and Bucky himself finds out in the most humiliating way possible—via Wanda’s viral video.

It started as a joke.

A harmless, ridiculous joke.

And then it spiraled into something much, much worse.

“I’m just saying,” Wanda said, shoving her phone in your face as the three of you wandered through the grocery store, “we should do it.”

Natasha glanced at the screen. “Oh, the ‘Hear Me Out’ cake trend? That’s dumb.”

“Exactly!” Wanda grinned. “Which makes it perfect for us.”

You furrowed your brows, watching the TikTok she’d pulled up. The trend was simple: buy a plain cake, decorate it with pictures of celebrities or characters you found attractive, and then justify your crush by sticking ‘Hear Me Out’ in the middle.

It was stupid. But also hilarious.

“I’m in,” you said.

Natasha groaned. “Fine. But I’m not helping if this turns into another Tower-wide disaster.”

Wanda hummed, already making a beeline for the bakery aisle. “Oh, it definitely will.”

Back at the Tower, you sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as Wanda set up her phone. The cake—a plain white-frosted one you’d grabbed from the store—sat in the center of the table, looking all innocent. It had no idea it was about to be used for nonsense.

“Okay,” Wanda said, grinning. “Time to put down our picks.”

Natasha went first. She taped a photo of Keanu Reeves onto a skewer and stuck it into the cake. Classic. No one would question it.

Then Wanda went. Pedro Pascal. Another solid choice.

And then you—

“Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

You hesitated, mid-skewer placement. “…What?”

Wanda started cackling.

Because instead of picking three different people like a normal person, you had, without realizing it, picked three different versions of Bucky Barnes.

One was a picture of him in his tactical gear, scowling like he was about to murder someone (hot). Another was of him in a hoodie and jeans, looking all soft and domestic (also hot). And the third? The one that really sealed your fate?

It was a close-up of his metal arm.

You winced. “Okay. I see how this looks—”

“This looks like a confession,” Wanda said gleefully, already zooming in on your picks.

“Oh my God,” Natasha muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I panicked!” you hissed. “I wasn’t thinking—I just grabbed the first ones that looked good!”

Wanda was shaking with laughter. “Oh, babe. This isn’t panic. This is obsession.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you both.”

The video went up on Wanda’s account that night.

By the next morning, it had one million views.

And the Tower was in absolute chaos.

Clint greeted you at breakfast with a slow, knowing grin. “So,” he said, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “should we start calling you Mrs. Barnes, or—?”

You threw a banana at his head.

Sam nearly fell off the couch laughing when he saw the video. “You put the metal arm?” he wheezed. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

Steve, who had clearly been dragged into this nonsense against his will, just gave you a long, unimpressed look over his coffee. “You could’ve just told him, you know.”

Tony, of course, had the most Tony reaction possible. “This is the most effort I’ve ever seen someone put into a crush. If I had known Bucky was your type, I would’ve set up an HR department just to make this more scandalous.”

You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

But the worst part?

Bucky.

Because by some miracle, he hadn’t seen the video yet.

Which meant you were living on borrowed time.

It happened later that night.

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book but mostly trying to avoid eye contact with the entire human population, when Bucky strolled into the common room.

“Hey, doll.”

Your stomach flipped. “Hey.”

He sat next to you, arms stretched out over the back of the couch, his face unreadable. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought—maybe he doesn’t know.

And then—

“So,” he said, far too casually. “You like my arm that much, huh?”

Your entire body locked up.

Your soul left your body.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—what—who—?”

Bucky chuckled. “I saw the video.”

You shut your eyes. “Kill me.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Nah. ‘Cause then who’s gonna take me on that date you clearly want?”

You choked. “What—”

Bucky turned to face you fully, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “I—That’s—You—”

Bucky leaned in, voice low. “Next time, maybe write my number on the cake instead.”

You exhaled sharply, heart hammering. “Are you—Are you flirting with me?”

His grin widened. “You tell me.”

You stared at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we go on a date, I’m making Wanda pay for it.”

Bucky laughed, eyes warm. “Deal.”

[vrystalius]

I know i just requested with weird nicknames for squid game characters.

But I want to see their reaction to your wallpaper being them or being another person. Literally obsessed with what you write its so cute. Take my heart ❤️

Squid Game men’s reaction for putting them as your phone’s wallpaper.

They randomly check your phone one day and find a picture of themselves staring back. How will they react? What kind of wallpaper do they have?

Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu x gn!reader

Summary: You putting them as your phone wallpaper, them putting you as their phone wallpaper

Genre: Fluff, maybe a little angst in Nam-gyu’s part (mention of drug use)

Words: 800 per character

Note: I wrote this during my medicine and head concussion induced haze, forgive me for any inconsistencies or mistakes 😭🙏 Also, the middle pictures are a suggestion as what said wallpaper could be.

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // Salesman

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

Mostly surprise and confusion spread swirled in his mind the first time he stared back at himself in the form of your phone wallpaper. He never thought you’d screenshot this picture let alone use it as your wallpaper because c’mon— let’s be honest, you could’ve chosen any other picture of him and yet you decided on this.

It’s weird. Gong Yoo feels a little watched as he tries to find the food delivery app on your phone while having his own eyes stare back at him.

Although he had grown more and more fond of it every time he opened your phone anew. He sees how you grin a little when turning on your screen, how you sometimes giggle when you stare at it for too long. Sometimes you show it off to him and complain about he barely ever wears any skincare masks anymore.

“So you can have a new wallpaper? I don’t think so. My skin is fine for now, thank you darling.”

To be really honest, he finds it incredibly endearing that you chose him as your wallpaper, especially a picture like this. He thinks of himself as a sophisticated, charming, handsome salesman that lures desperate people into a death game and messes with homeless people in his free time, but you seemingly just see him as your soulmate, the love of your life, your husband.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Two months into the relationship and after a couple of dates, Gong Yoo already set you as his phone wallpaper. It was nice to have a reminder looking back at him to text you, check in on you, give you a call or even come by for dinner. A reminder that he has a special someone to care and love for.

He switches his wallpaper up every few weeks or months, wanting to keep it updated to your appearance. His chosen pictures are mostly intimate ones, snaps he takes while you are being unaware of how cute, attractive or adorable you look.

Pictures like when you are asleep on the couch in his arms after watching a movie, you after waking up and sleepily brushing your teeth in the mirror, you showing your back to him while waiting for the microwave to finish heating up the cheap convenience food, maybe even you stuffing your face with ice cream after a long day.

Whatever picture he may choose (much to your dismay), it always makes him smile to himself no matter the situation. Even if another homeless person asks him for spare change or those two random mobsters tried to jump him in an alleyway and now he was forced to “get rid of them”, a quick glance on his phone and seeing a cute picture of you immediately forces a smile to break out on his face.

The sight of their kidnapper smiling at his phone so lovingly while they were tied up and playing rock-paper-scissors for their lives probably made the two men shit their pants more than feeling the barrel of a revolver being pressed against the side of their head.

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

— Choosing him as your wallpaper. —

At first, Thanos reeeaaaallly disliked the picture you chose as your wallpaper. It was just a random reaction picture he send you one day about something he doesn’t even remember, and you went ahead and chose this as your phone wallpaper? Seriously?! Can’t you choose something more handsome, flattering?

He even offered to pose properly for you so you have a better pic to use, but after Thanos obviously started mewing and tried his absolute best to look as attractive as possible (which he already is but shhh), your boyfriend got extremely offended when you started laughing at his posing.

Your boyfriend gave up after a few attempts of secretly changing your wallpaper and seeing you pout every time he did, changing it right back to the one before.

If you really like it that much, fine. Just don’t let anyone see that you have that as your phone wallpaper, or else his rapper persona will never be able to recover from being exposed like that.

You don’t even understand why he is being so dramatic about your wallpaper anyway.

“I look hella ugly there, c’mon baby! Work with me here!! Here, lemme pose for you real quick so you can change that thing.”

Although it does flashbang you in the middle of the night when you turn on your phone, the brightness of the picture vaporising your eyes in an instant. It’s not the most pleasant thing to look at first thing in the morning but you still think he looks kinda cute in the pic.

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

He was careful to choose the prettiest picture of you he can find and the proceed to show it off to everyone he meets. Thanos even showed you off to Nam-gyu multiple times, forgetting that he already showed his friend the same picture four times now. Nam-gyu is already totally looking forward to next week when Thanos shows you off again.

Your boyfriend grins like a child whenever he glances at his phone for too long, falling in love with your picture all over again.

He changes his wallpaper every week so he always has something cute to look at after performing at another underground club or while doing whatever, sometimes getting distracted from searching for a certain app and instead ending up scrolling through either your social media account or his photo library to search for more pics of you.

Whenever you catch Thanos grin at his phone again, your first instinct is to glance over his shoulder to check what exactly he is looking at, but he immediately closes his phone when you do. At first you thought he might be looking at some random girl’s profile or whatever, but when you open it up and find yourself staring back, you’re kind of surprised to be honest.

Although, he always denies that he really cares about his wallpaper. Your boyfriend is totally choosing it at random and totally does not match his lock screen with his homescreen and mostly chooses pictures of you two together, you kissing his cheek or him holding you. Not at all!

Nam-gyu // Player 124

— Choosing you as your wallpaper. —

You choose a rather cute picture as your wallpaper. You took it during one of your first dates where you dragged him to a festival that was being held near your home, dragging Nam-gyu there against his will. Back then he had shorter hair, wore his glasses more frequently. Back then he was a little shy believe it or not, at least when it came to romance.

He used more before he met you, being around alcohol and drugs at all times due to his occupation. It kind of came with his job and the circle of friends he was around, so before meeting you, there was barely any day he wasn’t high or having a hangover from some random drug.

Nam-gyu never noticed you had this picture as your phone wallpaper until he accidentally grabbed your phone, thinking it was his. Seeing this picture in particular gave him a brief jumpscare.

You took this picture after he managed to scrap out the star shape out of the sugar cookie he bought from a random stand during the festival. His hair was shorter back then and he wore his glasses more frequently, the mask a reminder of how times were 5 years ago. He struggled staying clean during that time and always felt like shit wich is why he didn’t want to go to the festival in the first place.

He didn’t even know you took this picture of him despite him fully looking at the camera. A small smile spread on his face at the thought of you really choosing a picture like this as your phone wallpaper.

Quickly putting your phone down, Nam-gyu quickly played off his reaction as he hard you come into the room.

“I’m smiling about nothing, shaddup. Go back to wherever you came from.”

With a dismissive hand wave, he tried to shoo you away. His attempts were futile as you instead pull him into a clingy hug, instead demanding cuddles instead. Who was he to deny your wish?

— Choosing you as his wallpaper. —

Nam-gyu likes taking 0.5x zoom pictures of you from above and choosing them as his phone wallpaper, pushing you away as you try to protest and stop him from putting them as his wallpaper because seriously, he can literally choose any other pic!

You can hear quiet, evil “hehe”s from the corner of the room whenever you two are together and he turns on his phone, briefly turning it around so you can see what he was giggling so stupidly at, only for him to giggle harder at the sight of your unamused face.

Even if he mainly chooses those pictures as his phone wallpaper to annoy you, he likes having a stupid picture of you always available to him.

Some shitty guy searching for a fight at the club? Quick glance at your face at a 0.5x zoom makes him crack a smile right after. Thanos called him Nam-su, Gyu-nam or literally anything else but his name again? Turning his phone on lightens his mood immediately.

Sure, a flattering or cute picture of you would have the same effect on him, but this is much funnier in his opinion.

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

HAPPY LATE VALETINES DAYYYYYYY!!!! Since tumblr limits your tags to 30 tags per post I always have trouble tagging all of the Squid Game men, so I decided to split this one prompt into two posts. If this gets enough attention / love, I’ll post a part 2 with Dae-ho, Gi-hun and In-ho! Also, thank you for requesting, I needed a break from writing my smut draft 😭

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[mrsfancyferrari]

24 Hours Without You

Summary: A dare from Lando led to Oscar not having any contact from you for 24 hours. Well he tried to.

Song: Love Drought · Beyoncé

Author’s note: Happy Valentines day to all couples and all singles (like me 🥲), either I hope you have a good day! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 3.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The lights of the McLaren production studio flickered with anticipation, the hum of laughter from the crew blending into the casual camaraderie surrounding Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris.

The two drivers, known not only for their prowess on the Formula 1 tracks but also for their undeniable charisma off of it, sat on plush bean bags before a camera.

Today’s content was light-hearted—an episode of "Truth or Dare," where playful banter was the currency of the moment.

In the midst of the gleeful chaos, Lando held up a hand, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Truth or dare?” he shot at Oscar, who had his fingers nervously tapping on the surface of his knee.

Oscar, who had been bracing for this exact moment, hesitated. He’d opted for “truth” in virtually every previous round, hoping to avoid anything too embarrassing.

But the staff behind the camera were practically pleading with him to choose “dare”—for the sake of content, of course.

“Dare,” he finally relented, a playful smirk hiding the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. He expected something innocuous, maybe a challenge to show off an embarrassing childhood photograph or to tweet an old picture of himself wearing an awkward haircut.

But Lando’s grin widened unnaturally as he clapped his hands together. “I dare you to spend 24 hours away from your girlfriend and document it to show the fans how needy you are for her!”

Oscar blinked. “Wait, what?” It was more of a stutter than a question.

Lando, brimming with enthusiasm, leaned into the camera with an exaggerated expression. “You heard me! No calls, no texts, and definitely no see-you-later kisses! We want to see how long it takes for you to break.”

Oscar felt his cheeks flush. This wasn’t just some off-the-cuff banter in the drivers' room. This was being filmed. This was going to be on YouTube. This was going to be everywhere.

He glanced around, hoping for a lifeline from even a vaguely sympathetic face from his engineer. He found none. They were all either strategically avoiding eye contact or subtly smirking.

"What if I say no?" Oscar asked, the words laced with a desperate hope that this whole thing was a joke, a prank that had gone too far.

He’d already planned on going to your house later that day for a quiet movie night and homemade pasta, a tradition they’d started a few years after they’d started dating.

The thought of not seeing you, not hearing your voice, for an unknown amount of time… it felt like a physical ache.

Lando’s grin widened, a predatory gleam in his eye. “Then you have to let me pass in the next 3 races if you're in the lead,” he said, the words dripping with smug confidence.

He knew Oscar was fiercely competitive. He knew this would sting.

Oscar groaned, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “Why are you so against me, mate?” He couldn't fathom Lando's sudden, intense interest in his love life, or rather, in trying to sabotage it.

"I just want to show the world how much of a simp you are," Lando replied, his tone teasing, but with an underlying edge that Oscar couldn’t quite decipher.

“Is this even allowed?” Oscar asked, appealing to the staff, hoping someone would intervene, would point out the absurdity of the situation. This had to be a breach of some sort of code of conduct, right?

"Of course, it is!" Lando declared, throwing his arms wide. "It's content! Think of the views!"

Oscar knew, deep down, that the team probably did see it as ‘content.’

In the cutthroat world of Formula 1, where every millisecond and every marketing opportunity mattered, this ridiculous challenge probably seemed like a stroke of genius.

He looked back at Lando, his friend's face alight with mischievous glee. He looked at the cameras, the expectant faces of the crew.

He looked at the faces of the team, already calculating potential audience engagement.

“Fine,” he said, the word feeling like a lead weight in his mouth. “But you owe me big time for this, Lando.”

Lando whooped, jumping off the toolbox and slapping Oscar on the back. “That’s the spirit! Challenge accepted! And don’t worry, the world will thank me for this entertainment!”

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, a familiar gesture when frustration gnawed at him. He fished his phone out of his pocket, the bright screen momentarily blinding in the dim light of the hallway.

There they were, a string of messages from you, each one a little more frantic than the last.

“Hey, everything okay? You’ve been quiet all day.”

“Oscar? You haven’t even seen my meme! It’s hilarious, you HAVE to see it.”

“Seriously, starting to worry. Call me when you get a chance.”

And finally, a more plaintive, “I miss you. Hope you’re okay.”

He cursed under his breath, a sharp, involuntary sound. Lando. It was always Lando. This stupid dare, this ridiculous game, had ripped a hole in his day, a hole that was shaped exactly like you.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, the cool glass a constant reminder of the connection he was deliberately severing.

“See you guys,” he mumbled to the departing camera crew, offering a weak wave.

He then turned to Lando, delivered a playful, but firm, punch to his shoulder, and escaped to the sanctuary of his apartment.

He knew, logically, that it was just 24 hours. A single day. But the thought of willingly ignoring you felt like a betrayal, a small chink in the fortress of their relationship.

He cherished your texts, your calls, the small everyday interactions that stitched together the tapestry of their lives. Being without them, even for a fleeting moment, felt… wrong.

He threw himself onto the couch, intending to relax, maybe watch some mindless TV. But your voice echoed in his head, replaying snippets of conversations, silly jokes, and whispered sweet nothings.

He closed his eyes, trying to conjure your face, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the soft curve of your smile. He needed to hear your voice, desperately.

He got up, restless, and paced the small apartment. He considered calling Lando, admitting defeat, throwing in the towel. But pride, that stubborn, annoying companion, held him back.

He’d made a commitment, however foolish, and he intended to see it through.

Sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned, the silence amplifying the absence of your goodnight text, your usual, comforting presence. He got up, made himself a cup of tea, and stared out the window at the twinkling city lights.

Each light, he imagined, represented a connection, a conversation, a life unfolding. And he was deliberately cutting himself off from one of the most important ones.

Finally, exhaustion claimed him, but it was a restless, fractured sleep, filled with snippets of dreams where he was chasing you through crowded streets, always just out of reach.

The next morning dawned gray and overcast, mirroring his mood. He dragged himself out of bed, the weight of fatigue heavy on his shoulders.

Today was qualifying, a crucial part of the race weekend, and he needed to be sharp, focused. This was not the condition that he wants to be in.

He arrived at the track, the buzz of activity usually energizing, today felt like a dull hum. He went through the motions, the familiar routines a small comfort in the unsettling void.

Lando found him in the McLaren garage, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “Hey mate, have you given up yet?” he asked, slapping Oscar’s shoulder a little too hard.

Oscar winced, both from the physical blow and the reminder of the dare. “Nope,” he mumbled, the word devoid of any real conviction. He was tired, irritable, and more than anything, he missed you.

The thought of the next few hours stretching out before him, devoid of your presence, felt unbearable.

“Don’t worry, Osc,” Lando teased, oblivious to the genuine discomfort he was causing. “Just a few hours left. Think of the gloating rights!”

Oscar just glared at him, the playful banter lost on his weary mind. He wanted to tell Lando how much this stupid dare was affecting him, how much he relied on your support, your laughter, your simple, unwavering belief in him.

But he couldn’t bring himself to articulate it. It felt too vulnerable, too personal.

The day dragged on, each minute a tiny eternity. He went through the qualifying rounds, his performance adequate, but lacking the spark he usually possessed.

He could feel the absence of your encouragement, the subtle confidence boost he always got from knowing you were watching, cheering him on.

Between sessions, he retreated to his driver’s room, fighting the urge to reach for his phone. He scrolled through news articles, read through performance data, anything to distract himself from the aching void that was growing larger with each passing second.

Then, during the buildup to Q3, he was sat in the car and ready to go when his engineer, Tom, spoke over the radio. "Okay Oscar, you're up next, are you ready?"

Oscar gripped the wheel a little tighter, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Yeah I'm ready, is there any changes?"

Tom paused for moment and Oscar thought he hadn't head him. "No changes, but your girlfriend wanted me to pass on a message, she said good luck and she misses you, now go show them what you are capable of."

Oscar's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know you had talked to his engineer, but the small gesture warmed him from the inside.

It was exactly the kind of thing you would do, finding a way to break through his self-imposed barrier without directly contacting him.

The message worked. Oscar's spirits lifted and he felt a fresh surge of determination coursing through him.

He took off onto the track and delivered a blistering lap, securing a strong position on the starting grid.

He should be celebrating with the team, analysing telemetry, strategizing for tomorrow's race. But all he could think about was you. All because of Lando's stupid dare.

The qualifying result helped, but it didn't fill the void. After the debrief, he couldn't take it anymore. He muttered a quick goodbye to the team, ignoring their puzzled looks, and practically sprinted to his car.

He drove to your house, his hands clenched on the steering wheel, his heart pounding in his chest.

He parked the car, took a deep breath, and walked up to your front door. He had a key, a privilege he still cherished. He unlocked the door and let himself in.

“Hello?” he heard you say from inside, his footsteps louder than usual in the silence of the house.

He couldn’t speak. He stood frozen in the hallway, suddenly feeling ashamed and foolish.

How could he have ignored you because of a stupid dare?

He’d prioritized a silly game over your feelings, over his own need to be with you. The reality of his actions hit him like a punch to the gut.

You appeared in the doorway, your eyes widening in surprise. You were wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants, your hair pulled back in a messy bun. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Oscar? What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice a mixture of surprise and something he couldn’t quite decipher. He swallowed hard but found the words stuck somewhere deep in his throat.

“I…um…” He was fumbling, just like the first time he’d ever tried to ask you out. He felt like he was letting a ridiculous dare take precedence over something–over someone–he truly cared about.

"You weren't answering my messages, I thought I did something wrong," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he blurted out, finally finding his voice. “It’s just… it was a stupid dare. From Lando. He dared me not to contact you for 24 hours.”

He cringed at the sound of his own explanation. It sounded pathetic, even to him.

He could practically see the disbelief forming in your eyes, the flicker of hurt morphing into something colder, something more distant.

He’d hoped to mitigate the damage, but he suspected he’d only made things worse. The dare, the explanation, the whole situation… it all felt utterly ridiculous and deeply, deeply wrong.

The silence descended again, thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, you muttered, the words barely audible, “Am I just a dare to you?” The question hit him like a physical blow, a sharp, searing pain that ripped through his chest.

The accusation, even whispered, was devastating. It was the very antithesis of everything he felt, everything he wanted you to believe.

The thought that you could even consider him capable of such callousness was unbearable. He had to convince you, he had to erase any doubt that lingered in your mind, or he risked losing you forever.

“No!” It burst from him, a desperate plea laced with raw emotion, desperation threading his tone. "I love you more than that," he continued, his voice cracking with the intensity of his feelings.

He reached out, instinctively wanting to touch you, to reassure you, but hesitated, unsure if you'd welcome the gesture.

You paused, your gaze intense, scanning his face for any sign of deception. He met your eyes, unflinchingly, letting his own reflect the truth of his words.

He knew he had to be an open book, to let you see the regret, the love, the sheer desperation that consumed him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you scrutinized him, searching for any flicker of falsehood.

Each passing second felt like an eternity, the silence amplifying the pounding of his heart in his ears. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly.

"Well then, why?" you asked, your voice softer now, but still tinged with hurt. The question hung in the air, demanding an explanation, a justification for his inexplicable actions.

It was a reasonable question, one he knew he deserved. But the truth was, he didn’t have a good answer.

He shuffled his feet, avoiding your gaze. The usually confident Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 sensation, looked like a scolded puppy.

"I… I don't know why I agreed to it, but I knew I regretted it as soon as I said yes. I couldn't concentrate at all today or sleep without your voice. The only reason I didn't crash out of tiredness was because of your message that Tom gave me," he ranted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

He was scared. You could see it in the way his hands trembled slightly, the way his eyes darted around the room, anywhere but at you. This was the only real relationship he'd ever been in, the only one that felt… right.

He loved you, a dizzying, heart-wrenching, terrifying kind of love that had taken root ever since he saw you in that crowded lecture hall, your face illuminated by the glow of your laptop screen.

"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I promise," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He waited for you to speak, to yell, to do anything. But you didn't. He panicked more.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. You could see the desperation etched on his face, the genuine remorse in his eyes. It was hard being mad at him, especially knowing how much he hated being apart from you.

Finally, you sighed, a weary sound that seemed to deflate him even further. You pushed aside your anger, the petty hurt that had been bubbling beneath the surface for the past day.

You knew how easily Lando could goad him into things, how Oscar, despite his steely determination on the track, could be surprisingly susceptible to peer pressure.

You moved forward, closing the distance between you. He flinched slightly, bracing himself for… what, you didn't know.

Instead, you went on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne – something uniquely Oscar.

You missed it, even though you were with him just two days ago.

Oscar froze, his breath catching in his throat. He gradually relaxed, melting into your embrace, his own arms wrapping tightly around your waist. He missed you too. More than you knew.

"You're lucky Lando told me about it and bribed me with pictures of you looking depressed to not get mad at you," you muttered into his shoulder, your voice muffled.

He chuckled weakly, a sound that vibrated against you. "He what?"

"He’s been sending me pictures all day," you said, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "Apparently, you kept staring at your phone with this forlorn expression. Lando said it was hilarious, but also that he felt bad for you."

Oscar groaned, burying his face in your hair. "I'm going to kill him."

"He did say he'd run if he saw you coming," you said with a small smile. "And, you know, it worked. I was going to give you the silent treatment for a week."

He pulled back, his eyes wide with mock horror. "A week? That’s cruel and unusual punishment!"

"You deserve it," you retorted, but the threat lacked teeth. "Now, tell me everything. How awful was it? Did you actually cry?"

He grinned, the familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "I did not cry. I may have considered it, though."

You laughed, relieved that the tension had dissipated. "So, what exactly did Lando dare you to do?"

"He said I couldn't contact you in any way, shape, or form for twenty-four hours. No calls, no texts, no social media. Nothing," Oscar explained. "He said it would be a 'fun challenge' and that I needed to 'toughen up' or something ridiculous like that."

"And you agreed?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grimaced. "I don't know what I was thinking. I think I wanted to prove I could do it, that I wasn't… overly reliant on you."

"And how did that work out for you?" you teased.

He sighed dramatically. "Terribly. Absolutely terribly. I spent the entire day pacing around, checking my phone every five minutes. I couldn't focus on anything. Even driving felt more dangerous than usual."

"That's because you were thinking about me," you said, a smug smile playing on your lips.

"Of course I was," he said, cupping your face in his hands. "You're all I ever think about."

You blushed, but your heart swelled at his words. "So, lesson learned?"

"Lesson learned," he confirmed, leaning in to kiss you. "I'm never agreeing to anything Lando says ever again."

The kiss was soft, tender, and filled with the unspoken relief of being together again. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his.

"You know," you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Lando also dared me to ignore you for the next twenty-four hours. But he didn't bribe me with pictures of you looking miserable."

Oscar’s eyes widened. "You wouldn’t!"

You just smiled, a silent promise of playful revenge hanging in the air. He knew you wouldn’t actually follow through, not completely.

But the thought of it, the tiny seed of uncertainty, was enough to make him cling to you even tighter.

"Don’t you dare," he whispered, burying his face in your hair again. "Please. I can’t handle another day like today."

You laughed, a warm, happy sound that echoed through the room. He was an idiot, a lovable, racing-obsessed idiot, and you wouldn't trade him for the world.

"Okay, okay," you relented. "I'll spare you… this time. But you owe me big time. And you're buying me dinner. Somewhere expensive."

"Anything," he said, pulling back to look at you, his eyes filled with genuine affection. "Anything for you."

And you knew he meant it. The dare had been stupid, a momentary lapse in judgment fueled by Lando’s mischievous influence. But it had also served as a reminder, a stark glimpse of what life would be like without each other. And neither of you wanted to ever experience that again.

You were connected, intertwined, and the thought of being apart, even for a day, was unbearable.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapped securely around you. The storm had passed, leaving behind a quiet calm. And in the comfort of his embrace, you knew that everything was going to be okay.

As long as you had each other, you could face anything. Even Lando’s ridiculous dares. . . .

[theemporium]

[5.1k] the thing between you and leon was just for convenience sake. that was all it was and all it ever would be. obviously fucking the same person for a prolonged period of time wouldn't lead to feelings or anything like that. right? (smutty themes included)

.

Look, Leon never claimed he made smart decisions off the ice. 

It was different when he was on the ice. He was good on the ice, excellent even. He had shelves of trophies to prove as much. There was a reason he won those trophies, there was a reason he had earned his contract and there was a reason he was seen as one of the best players in the league, even whilst playing with Connor fucking McDavid every single night.

Leon was really fucking smart when it came to hockey. It was just everything else he seemed to have a problem with.

Case and point? The fact he was currently driving one and a half hours after a late afternoon game to meet you at some dodgy motel where there would be less of a chance of him being recognised than he would in Edmonton. 

Not the smartest decision. 

The fact this had been an ongoing arrangement for the last few months also further proved this was not a smart decision in the slightest. 

But truthfully, Leon could not bring himself to regret his far-from-smart decisions because the pros definitely outweigh the cons, quality over quantity or whatever the saying was. Because god knows the relationship between the two of you came with way more cons: the distance, the commute, the fact you were a fucking Flames fan.

It was, by all definitions of the word, the furthest thing from convenient for him and yet he was still making the drive to Red Deer against his better judgement. 

You were already there. He had just gotten out of the shower, the exhaustion from the game and the press conference already settling deep in his bones when he opened his phone to find a picture waiting for him, one of you sprawled out on a bed—a bed which he recognised easily by the same ugly sheets the motel used in every room.

Leon hated the way his stomach flipped at the sight of them, at the knowledge that you were there waiting for him. 

He had tried not to think about what he was doing too much, but it was hard to avoid when Connor gave him an odd look after he phoned his dog-sitter and asked if he wouldn’t mind popping over to make sure Bowie got his afternoon walk and some dinner. He also tried to ignore the looks of confusion he got from the rest of the team as he waved off the offer of celebratory drinks after a shut-out win against the Blue Jackets. 

If he was being honest, Leon’s way of coping with this whole thing was to avoid a lot of details. 

It seemed to be working so far. 

The drive to Red Deer felt like muscle memory by this point. It was almost therapeutic, to let his brain mostly shut off and relax after such a fast-paced, high adrenaline game. It was nice to just clutch the wheel and follow the signs down, knowing that you were waiting for him at the end of the journey. 

He could have snorted the second he walked through the motel room door, the key still in one hand as he pushed it open and found you sprawled on the bed—unfortunately clothed, unlike the photo you had sent him earlier. 

“Playing hard to get?” 

Your lips twitched as you pushed yourself to sit up on the bed, shuffling until you were perched on the end. “Not everything is about you, Draisaitl,” you mused, watching as he closed and locked the door behind him. “You were taking your time and this room is fucking freezing.” 

“It’s almost like the only thing I had planned in my diary was a game today,” Leon deadpanned. “No secret meetups penciled in.” 

“Hm, should have guessed you would want your ego stroked after a game like that,” you retorted, watching as he began to shrug off the suit jacket he wore with his game day suit. “Want me to tell you how good you did, baby?” 

Leon rolled his eyes. “You watched?” 

You shrugged. “I got curious, wanted to see what all the hype was about.” 

“Hm,” Leon hummed, tugging impatiently at his tie until he was able to pull it over his head. His fingers were already moving to the buttons of his shirt. “And what was your conclusion?” 

“You play alright,” you commented, your lips twitching like you were trying to fight back your own grin. “Slightly disappointed by tonight’s performance though.” 

Leon raised his brows. “Two goals and an assist weren’t enough for you?” 

“I was looking for a hat trick,” you said, and this time you did grin.

“Brat,” Leon huffed, not quite fond but something else positive, lustful, desired even.

“You love it,” you countered, eyes sparkling.

He didn’t even bother to deny it as he leaned down, both hands engulfing your face as he kissed you, hard and fast and desperate, like the long drive down had finally caught onto him and his patience. 

“Clothes off,” he muttered between kisses, hissing a little when your teeth playfully nipped his lip. 

“Gonna warm me up?” You taunted, leaning back enough to pull your hoodie over your head and throw it somewhere on the floor beside his abandoned tie and shirt. 

He groaned, his nose scrunching up. “That was a horrible line.” 

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna fuck me,” you retorted, looking far too smug for his liking.

The worst part was that you were right.

…

“Leaving already?”

“I need to get back to Bowie.” 

“Give him my love.” 

“I will not be doing that.” 

“Rude.” 

…

Leon wasn’t exactly going out of his way to hide the fact he was sleeping with someone on a regular basis. 

It would be a stupid thing to try and hide when he knew each of his teammates had working eyes and would very much be able to see the scratches and marks left all over his body following his latest meetup with you.

“Oi! Oi! Someone had a fun night!” 

Leon barely reacted anymore, simply letting the cheers and catcalls echo through the locker room as he focused on gearing up for practice. It was inevitable, it was something he had dealt with since the start of his relationship with you—if whatever the two of you had could even be considered a relationship. 

“I’ve been looking for a new place to take Lauren for date night.” 

Leon paused, turning to look at Connor with his brows furrowed together. He waited for the boy to continue but he never did. “Okay?” 

Connor was still looking at him expectantly. “Any recommendations?” 

“No?” Though, it came out sounding like a question. Mostly because it was a question, because Leon was kind of confused why this was a necessary topic of conversation before early morning skate. “Am I meant to know a place?” 

Connor blinked. “I assumed wherever you went after the game on Tuesday.” 

Leon frowned. “I didn’t go out to eat after Tuesday’s game.” 

“But you phoned your dog-sitter,” Connor pointed out, though he didn’t sound accusatory. He had that look on his face, the same one that Leon often saw on the ice when he was trying to work out a play before it even happened. 

“I did,” Leon nodded, because there was no point in denying it when Connor had overheard the conversation. “Pretty sure he doesn't have any date spot recommendations either.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed and Leon swore he could hear the cogs in his brain whirling and turning. But Leon was stubborn and a little petty and he didn’t give handouts, not even to Connor. So he stood there, staring back at his friend with a fairly blank expression.

“Interesting,” Connor said eventually before turning back to his stall to get ready for practice.

Leon pretended to ignore the way the tightness in his chest loosened when Connor dropped the topic.

…

“The motel could be a good date night spot, you never know.” 

“I know for a fact we saw a rat in the bathtub once.” 

“Yeah, and you screamed like a little girl.”

“I screamed the appropriate way for a rat the size of a small dog.”

“Bowie could take that rat.”

“I would never let Bowie near that monster.”

…

Despite every piece of advice he had ever been given from the veterans before him, roadies didn’t really get easier.

After a while, the non-descriptive hotel rooms with scratchy sheets and stiff pillows became a part of the routine. It was a part of his job, the same way early morning practices and bag skates were. He didn’t like it, he could do without it but he had learnt to accept it very early on in his career. 

Still, there were some nights on the road where the room was too uncomfortable for Leon to settle down. 

They had flown in early for their east coast roadie, having a full day and night in Florida before their game the following night. The others had headed out for dinner, wanting to enjoy the heat whilst they could but Leon had waved them off when they extended the offer to him. He was tired and still a little grumpy from the small nap he managed on the turbulent flight down. He wanted his bed more than anything, but the hotel one would have to do. 

Except, Florido was humid. 

It was humid and hot and his clothes were sticking to his body. But the air conditioning in the hotel room was stuck at a temperature that made the room frigid. And the fucking feeling of the sheets against his skin made him feel like he was seconds away from biting his own arm off if the starchiness didn’t stop feeling so starchy against him. 

He hadn’t even realised what he was doing until the rings were going through. 

“I hope you’re wearing something sexy for me.” 

Despite his pissy mood, Leon did find himself snorting a little. 

“Put on my tightest pair of boxers just for you,” he mused, swallowing back the biting complaints as he tried to settle back onto the bed. 

“Yeah? Gonna mess them up for me, big boy?” 

“God,” Leon groaned but he was smiling. “I don’t even know why I bother sometimes.” 

But you laughed and the sound settled something inside him. “I bet they have little Oilers logos on them too.” 

Leon grinned a little. “Is that something you’re into? Want me to dress up for you?” 

“I would burn them if you wore them in front of me.” 

“If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask,” Leon retorted, his eyes falling shut as you scoffed on the other side of the phone.

“Are you naked now?” 

“Do you want me to be?” 

“Do I want to listen to you jerk off to my fantasies of burning your Oilers boxers? Can’t imagine anything hotter, Draisaitl.” 

Leon hated the way his dick twitched at your words anyways, the way something stirred in his stomach at the idea of you being so desperate to get his clothes off and to have him sprawled out naked and waiting for you. He didn’t tend to like handing over control, but he thinks his curiosity would win out when it came to you. 

“Talk dirty to me, baby. Tell me your sexy, arsonistic dreams.”

…

“Be honest. Do your boxers have little Oilers logos on them?” 

“I am not even dignifying that question with an answer.” 

“I’ll wear a Flames thong, we can match.” 

“I promise you I will not fuck you if you wear any sort of Flames merchandise around me. Instant turn off.”

“Liar.” 

…

Even though Red Deer was a beloved meet up spot for the both of you, Leon wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the obvious opportunity to meet up after a Battle of Alberta game.

Your apartment was one Leon had become familiar with, even though this was technically the first time he had ever stepped foot into it. It felt a little surreal as he walked through the doorway, sliding off his boots and looking around at the apartment that had been the backdrop for more Facetimes than he could even remember. 

His eyes lingered on the couch as a vague memory came to mind, of seeing you sprawled over it with your hand between your legs and your head thrown back as you came for him over the phone after a particularly rough game against LA.

“You just gonna stand there all day?” 

“Maybe,” Leon answered, not seeming to be in any rush as he continued to glance around your apartment before turning to face you. “I wanted to see what my options were for the night.” 

You raised your brows. 

“What? Backing out of our bet now?” Leon mused, feeling his stomach twist in delight at the way your eyes instantly narrowed in defiance. You were going to be difficult tonight, bratty even. 

Good. He liked that. He wanted that.

“You were so confident your Flames would win,” Leon continued, the name tasting like acid on his tongue as he hissed it out. His eyes were glued to you, taking slow steps towards you and feeling a thrill of excitement at the way you refused to back down. “A shame they couldn’t win.” 

“They would have,” you said, just to push his buttons, just to piss him off. “Bad calls can really determine a game.” 

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Bad calls don’t mean shit when they can’t get the puck in the back of the net.”

Your eyes darted down to his lips as he stood in front of you. “And you did?” 

“Twice,” Leon grinned, sharklike and dangerous and yet, it still didn’t stop you from darting forward to press your lips against his.

Leon was shameless with the groan he let out as he pressed you against the wall, as he tucked his leg between yours and wound his arms around you so he could press you against his body. He was shameless in the way he kissed you, fast and passionate and needy and desperate. He was shameless in the way he muttered what he wanted to do with you, in the way he wanted you, in the stupid deal you had goaded him into a few hours before the game.

It was a herculean task to pull yourselves away from the wall and let you pull him towards your bedroom, but it was worth it once the two of you had managed to tear your clothes off and get on the bed. Leon allowed himself one, two, three seconds to stare at the sight of you spread out on the bed before he crawled over you and completely engulfed your body with his own.

“And that—” You let out a small whine as his teeth nipped the spot behind your ear. “—power play in the second was a bullshit call and we both fucking know it.”

“Fuck,” Leon groaned, his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the length of your neck. “Do you ever shut up?” 

“Thought you liked my mouth open,” you retorted, breathless and smug and, fuck, if it wasn’t infuriatingly hot to him. As if it wasn’t that damn mouth that was the reason he kept this going when it was far from easy or convenient. 

“I like it full,” he corrected, lifting his head to watch the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “I like it when you’re too fucked out to talk.” 

Your eyes gleamed with interest. “Then guess you better hurry up. I’ve been hearing a lot of promises since you walked through that door.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Keep your hands above your head. Don’t move.” 

“Is this you cashing in your reward from the bet?” You asked, playful and teasing but still obedient as you reached up to grip the wooden bars of your headboard. “That's all you want from me? To not touch you?” 

Winner gets to do whatever they want for the night.

Leon grinned and it made your stomach twist in delight. “Be good and you’ll find out just what I want and what I will get from you.”

…

“Is that a teddy?” 

“Don’t judge Quacks, he’s been with me through a lot.”

“He is staring into my soul.”

“He is a good judge of character and he says you’re pissy.” 

“Sounds like a very judgemental duck.”

“You two can bond over it.”

…

Somewhere along the line, the visits to that dodgy motel in Red Deer started to lessen.

Leon wasn’t sure when or why but…it just started to happen. It almost felt natural though, something he tried not to think about too deeply. He had just come off one of their longest roadies of the season yet—one that unfortunately resulted in more losses than wins—and he was keyed up, pissed off and in desperate need of some sort of distraction. 

But despite the two days off following the roadie, the idea of sitting in his car to drive down to Red Deer and back just for the sake of a few hours (at most) felt tiring and annoying and just…so much work. 

You had laughed over the phone when Leon had said as much, not sounding all that bothered or surprised by his pissy attitude. If the messages and late night calls shared during the roadie were anything to go by, you had watched the games and knew just how bad the team was playing lately. 

“Want me to come up and kiss the shitty games better?” 

“That’s a three hour drive,” he found himself saying in response. “Both ways.”

You snorted. “Wow, you wouldn’t even let me stay the night? Maybe chivalry is dead.” 

And that…fuck, Leon didn’t realise how badly he wanted that until you said. 

“You should come,” he blurted out. “Come and stay over.” And after a few moments of silence, he added, “I don’t have anything for a few days either.”

Leon wasn’t sure what he expected to come of the offer, but it was a little too late once you had accepted the offer. You messaged him once you were on the road. You sent another when you briefly stopped at Red Deer, taking a picture of your usual motel and sending it with a ‘missing the musty smell already’. You ended up sending your location for the rest of the journey, claiming you couldn’t be bothered to message when you were nearby and that he could just watch your location if he was that desperate to know. 

He didn’t admit that he watched your pin move closer and closer to his house for the last fifteen minutes of your drive. 

Leon kind of expected it to be awkward when you arrived, for the regret to hit and for the heavy realisation to settle that he had let someone else into his space for a prolonged amount of time. 

That never happened. If anything, it was more unsettling to realise just how easily you slipped into his life at home, to see how quickly Bowie accepted you. 

If anything, it made him realise how much he wished the two of you had done this sooner.

…

“Never took you to be the kinda guy to wine and dine a girl.”

“Fuck off.”

“Do you kiss Bowie with that mouth?” 

“No, but I did make you come three—”

“Nuh uh! Not when Bowie can hear, he has innocent ears.” 

…

The trips to Red Deer became nonexistent and instead were replaced with a back and forth of trips between Edmonton and Calgary.

Now, as stupid as his decisions off the ice may be, Leon wasn’t oblivious. He knew that this went beyond the original convenience excuse the two of you had thrown around at the start of this relationship. He knew that no normal person in a ‘sex only’ relationship was driving three hours just to spend a few days with their ‘sex only’ partner. He knew that this was far beyond the original agreement the two of you had agreed to in that dingy Calgary bar after the Oilers lost abysmally. 

But Leon was more than happy to avoid voicing those realisations out loud for as long as he got to keep everything going the way it was. 

Because he liked how things were, despite the initial confusion, and he was unashamedly selfish like that to know that he wasn’t letting it go until he had to. 

And if lying to his teammates to get out of team bonding after a ten day roadie so he could be home when you came over was a part of that? Then so be it.

He missed you. 

“You’re acting like it’s been a million years,” Leon commented, closing the door behind you and placing your bag to the side (rather than the spot in the middle of the entryway you had chosen). 

“It has been a million years,” you said from your spot on the floor, your legs crossed and Bowie happily licking your face. “I’ve been deprived of seeing my favourite boy.” 

Leon rolled his eyes, though it seemed fond. “He misses you too. Pretty sure he recognises your voice through the phone now. He looks extremely disappointed when he goes to the door and you’re not there.”

“Because he’s the smartest boy!” You cooed at the fluffy dog on your lap, grinning widely as he continued to whine and yip happily at you.  

Leon chose to ignore the way his chest tightened at the sight. 

“Did you only miss him?” Leon found himself asking, because apparently he had reached the point of being jealous of his own damn dog.

The amusement was clear on your face when you lifted your head, that grin now directed completely at him. “I never took the Leon Draisaitl to be one to go fishing for compliments.”

Leon all but huffed. “I am not fishing, I am asking.” 

“Because you missed me?” You asked, sounding even more amused. 

“I regret opening the door.” 

“Liar,” you beamed at him, moving Bowie off your lap (who was not happy with the sudden shift in attention) and pushed yourself back onto your feet until you were in front of Leon, arms wound around his neck as you placed an obnoxiously loud, smacking kiss onto his cheek. “Better?” 

“You’re getting there,” he said, trying to sound dismissive and unbothered but the smile growing on his face didn’t help. 

You shook your head, almost looking as fond as he felt. “Hurry up and kiss me then, Draisaitl, it’s been a million years.” 

Leon rolled his eyes, but he happily complied. 

…

“That goal in the third against the Kings was hot.” 

“You watched?” 

“You sound surprised whenever I tell you I watch your games.” 

“The game was on at the same time as the Flames game.”

“Yeah but the Flames game didn’t have your grumpy face on the screen.” 

…

Leon realised that things had to change when Connor, of all people, was the one pointing out just how long this stupid thing between the both of you had been going on.

Not on purpose, which somehow made the whole thing ten times worse. 

The thrill of hate sex hadn’t been a solid excuse for the relationship between you two after the third or fourth hookup. No hate sex was that good to commute for it, no matter what anybody says. And the convenience argument quickly followed, even if the two of you clung onto it with both hands in the early months of the relationship.

And as the relationship grew and bloomed, you both seemed happy enough to ignore labelling it all together. 

Which was pretty fucking stupid, when Leon really thought about it. Even more so when Connor was the one connecting the dots for him.

“So.” 

Leon didn’t even bother looking up, his gaze focused on his skates as muscle memory took over, looping and tightening the laces on his skates before practice. “So?” 

“It’s almost been a year,” Connor said, standing in front of Leon’s stall with half of his gear on and his hands on his hips. “And I respect that you want to keep your privacy but…”

Leon paused, looking up at Connor with his brows furrowed. “What?” 

“I thought we were friends,” Connor frowned. “Good friends.” 

Leon blinked. “We are? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Connor stared at him like he was the one going crazy. “So you’re going to finally bring her over for dinner on Sunday? Lauren wants to meet her too.”

Leon blinked again. “Who?” 

Connor sighed, heavy and exasperated. “Your girlfriend, Leon. The one you have been hiding away for the last year.”

And, in that moment, Leon had come to a handful of realisations that were not ideal to deal with a few minutes before a hard practice on the run up to playoffs. Especially not when it had been triggered by words from the ‘more robot than human’ Connor McDavid.

He hadn’t realised the whole thing between you both had been going on for almost a year. He hadn’t realised the people around him were that observant, that they figured out he had been seeing the same person rather than random flings during the season like he had done in previous years. He hadn’t realised how much he wanted to call you his girlfriend until he realised he couldn’t look Connor in the eyes and say with conviction that yes, you were in fact his girlfriend. 

Leon realised a lot. 

“Raincheck?” Leon blurted out before he could stop himself, filing away the epiphany and Connor’s disappointed captain face to the back of his mind for the remainder of the practice so he didn’t deck it on the ice. 

He was the first one out of the locker room after practice before Connor could catch him again.

…

“Hey, you’re still coming over this weekend, right?” 

“Uh, yeah, just like we planned. Why? Did something come up?” 

“Yes. No! No, it didn’t. I just…I just need to talk to you about something.”

“How ominous.”

…

Leon had probably paced the distance to Germany and back around his living room by the time you arrived, much to Bowie’s displeasure as he watched from his spot on the couch with only slightly judgemental eyes.

In the days since his conversation with Connor, most of his thoughts had been surrounding what he wanted to say to you. He wasn’t stupid enough to think you didn’t feel something for him, he knew you had to or you wouldn’t be driving up to Edmonton every other week to see him. But he didn’t know if you would want more, he didn’t know if you would want a label.

He didn’t know if pointing out the very thing the two of you had been ignoring for the last year was going to completely fuck it up and, selfishly, he really did not want to lose you. 

It was almost ironic that you didn’t even knock on the door when you arrived, using the damn spare key he gave you to walk straight into the house like it was normal. Because it was normal for the two of you, it had been normal for months.

And yet, the only thing Leon could say as you walked through the door was, “where is your bag?” 

“In the car,” you said as you closed the door behind you but made no move to take your jacket off or even pull your boots off.

Suddenly, Leon felt on edge. “Why didn’t you bring it in?” 

You stayed where you were, too far away from him, too far away for him to reach out for you. “Is there a reason for me to bring it in?” 

“I—” Leon frowned, his chest twisting uncomfortably. “What? Of course there is. You’re staying the weekend, no?” 

“Am I?” You asked, your hands clenched into tight fists by your side. Your voice was shaky, unsure. He had never heard it like that before, and he never wanted to hear it like that ever again. Especially when it came to him. “Because from the way you’ve been acting the last few days, it feels like you are just trying to let me down nicely and it’s—”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Leon blurted out.

You stared at him, lips parted in surprise.

“I—fuck, I had a whole thing I was meant to say before that,” Leon grumbled to himself, shaking his head as he closed the distance between you both. And for the first time in days, his head felt clear as he stood in front of you, his hands cupping your face because he needed to be touching you before he felt like his whole body would explode. “We are so far past this whole convenience bullshit.” 

You snorted despite yourself, your lips twitching upwards as your hands reached for him. “Yeah, I think we got past that after the reception lady at the Red Deer motel asked us if we knew we had collected enough membership points to get a room free for a whole weekend.”

Leon didn’t even bother holding his smile back. “I want this. I want you. I want to tell people that you’re my girlfriend.” He paused, his nose scrunching up a little. “Well, not everyone. They can mind their own business, but the people that matter. I want to tell them that you’re my girl, even if you’re a fucking Flames fan, and I’m yours.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a Flames fan. Not really. Not anymore.”

Leon raised his brows. “Finally joined the better side?” 

“My boyfriend put up a really convincing argument,” you said, your hands twisting the fabric of his hoodie between your fingers before you pulled him closer.

“Your boyfriend sounds like a smart man,” Leon murmured, surprised he could even hear himself talk over the sound of his thumping chest.

“Eh, I’m only really with him for his dog,” you teased, laughing as Leon groaned and tugged you closer.

“Brat,” he grumbled against your lips, trying (and failing) to hide the fondness in his voice as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You love it,” you retorted.

Leon’s face softened as he pulled back enough to look at you. “Yeah. I do.”

…

“Let me get this straight, you only realised you wanted me to be your girlfriend because of Connor?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Wow, baby, you got love advice for McJesus.” 

“Please stop talking about Connor whilst you are naked in my bed.”

.

[enviedear]

JASON TODD has never gotten sentimental over his weapons or gear. gloves can be patched, a broken knife can be replaced, and his helmet is always bound to have a few gashes—but his gun—that’s where jason gets sentimental.

it’s not about the make or model, not about the way it handles, or how much kickback it gives him. he’s gone through too many guns to actually care about shit like that. but this one—it’s different—and not because of the way it fires, or the way it sits against his hip—simply because of you.

you—pressed beneath the grip of his pistol. a sweet smile on your face, other features hidden by a halloween mask. he thinks back to the night he took that picture whenever he peers down.

jason tells himself it’s practical. just an old soldier's trick to keep his mind steady—a cue to keep it together, to walk away before a fight gets too messy, a reason to come home in one piece.

he doesn’t tell you about it, but you find out anyway.

it’s late and the pair of you are lounging about in your apartment, simply sitting at the kitchen table as he cleans his guns. you’re watching absentmindedly, half-distracted with your phone until something catches your eye. the edge of a picture, just barely visible beneath the grip.

“what’s that?” you inquire, hands already reaching.

he doesn’t answer fast enough, instead lazily watches you. you grab the pistol, turning it in your hands, and your breath catches.

a picture of you, smoothed beneath the panel, worn soft at the edges like it’s been there for a while.

“jason.”

“don’t.” he huffs, blush on his cheeks.

“you keep this on you?” you sound surprised, a little amused too.

he shrugs, takes the gun back, and snaps the magazine home with practiced ease. “helps me aim,” he looks back at you, a soft almost indecipherable smile on his lips, “and keeps me thinking about what i’ve got waiting here.”

writer’s note .☘︎ ݁˖ got an anon abt this concept and i had to write it lol—hope i delivered nonnie !!!

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

[konigofmyheart]

long way down

MDNI .ᐟ

you sent risky pictures to your ex, but könig found them instead…

implied age gap, references to manipulation (on ex’s side), virgin fem!reader, suggestive!

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

könig groaned, pausing to rub his back as he bent to pick up an envelope right outside his office door, that pesky twinge in his right side reappearing due to having been sat in his office all day, sorting through piles of paperwork. he’d have complained about whoever was on mail duty, except… this letter clearly wasn’t for him. it was face down, its contents poking out: a pretty pink paper and a couple of polaroids?? the only letters he received were bills or work related.

maybe he shouldn’t have, but he took a peek at the pictures, and gott im himmel, they took his breath away. there you are, captured in film, soft shy smiles and silk and lace, such delicate looking lingerie hugging your curves…

he quickly shoves the pictures back in the envelope as his pants get uncomfortably tight, his face warming. say what you will about him, but he’s only human! he unfolds the letter, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the cute stationary and lip stick prints at the bottom of the page. without even reading a word he can tell you must really care for this guy, or else you wouldn’t have put that much effort into this letter. what he wouldn’t give to receive even a fraction of this attention, and here’s someone being so careless with gold like this!

könig slides the letter in the envelope, checking the front. stevens??? lucky bastard, he thinks as he heads to the barracks, begrudgingly intending to reunite it with the rightful owner. you’re a cute girl, you wouldn’t want some old dog salivating over your photos, right? plus, stevens isn’t that bad, a wide eyed recruit as könig himself once was, maybe he accidentally dropped this and has been searching for it frantically. turning into the barracks, he hears loud voices and barks of laughter coming from the rec room, and sure enough, there’s stevens playing a game of cards with three other rookies. they’ve got a fair amount of beer bottles stacked to the side, the losing rookie seemingly having emptied more than the others. they make to stand when their colonel enters the room, though a quick wave from könig has them relaxing back into their seats, breathing sighs of relief.

“stevens, you must have dropped this” he says, holding out your letter, happy to almost be done with his good deed of the month. imagine his surprise when stevens shares a look with his friends before responding with a flippant, slurred “ ‘m sorry about that, sir, i meant to throw that rubbish away… ‘s nothing important”, unsteadily rising to his feet and reaching for the envelope. “in that case, i’ll toss it for you. carry on with your game, men,” könig says between gritted teeth, dismissively clapping stevens on the shoulder, hard enough to make him plop back down on the chair with a grunt, before heading out.

how could stevens not care about such a gift?? unless könig got the wrong read on you… he briskly walked to his private quarters, kicking off his boots at the door and hanging his mask on the wall before settling on his bed. he plucked your letter out, opting to leave the dangerously tempting polaroids in the envelope to keep a clear head. slipping on his reading glasses, he began to read your neat script:

“happy valentine’s day, benji,

i’m really hoping this’ll arrive close enough to valentine’s day or else it’ll just be weird… look, i know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but i’m really sorry. i shouldn’t have made such a big deal about you sleeping with rebeca. i now see that you’re entirely right: it was my fault for not being mature enough for you. you have needs, and you couldn’t help it if i wasn’t there to tend to those needs. i’ve thought a lot about it, and i’ve made up my mind. i’m ready to prove my love to you. i’m still nervous, but like you said, you’re a man, and you need more than just hand holding and boring kisses, and it is getting pretty embarrassing to still be a virgin in my mid 20’s… it’s about time, i just had to realize that. i hope you like the pictures i included. i felt kinda ridiculous taking them, but i wanted to to show you just how serious i am about you, and for you to see what i bought to wear for you when you come home, as your late valentine’s day gift… would you please unblock me? i miss your voice a lot… at least text me? i can’t wait to see you again, if you’ll still have me.

p.s. will you be my valentine? please? <3

p.p.s. in case you lost it, my number is-”

and there, printed clearly, is your number. now könig’s getting the full picture. you’re a sweet girl, far too good for an arschloch like stevens and his manipulations. könig feels such anger to find out that jackass filled your head with such nonsense, pressuring you like some desperate teenager, making you feel insecure and guilty like that. stevens is definitely getting picked for every one of könig’s hand to hand demonstrations, no doubt about it. könig would give anything to have someone like you, and he’s willing to do so, to treat you right, as a lovely thing like you deserves. he takes a deep breath, dialing your number and setting with his back against the wall as the line trills. how he’ll convince you to give him a chance, he doesn’t know, but he does know he’ll do whatever it takes...

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[fumiscripts]

✦ SO, BABY, HOLD MY HAND NOW

✦ one shot ,, michael kaiser x gn!reader

content:: kaiser never would've thought he'd be falling first and harder. after an inner debate, he decided he'll ask you out on valentines. he's not sure what to do, though one thing was for certain: he wants to make you happy

valentines fic ,, fluff ,, 877 words

additional:: WHIPPED loser kaiser who tries to act nonchalant, implied childhood friends if you squint, he prolly would not do allat but like c'mon man it's valentines let's have a little fluff, ts is so sappy like actually, kaiser attempts to pin after reader, ending is open heh

Kaiser believed that he was a nonchalant, male manipulator.

But, really, he could not be any more dramatic than this.

Seriously, what was wrong with him? Thinking corny, cheesy thoughts about you like he liked you. He's killing himself inside every time his mind points towards the idea of holding your hand, or whatever couples do, cringing at himself— which was a shocker, as he never seemed embarrassed from whatever bullshit he constantly does— and tweaking out violently. And not the kicking feet and giggling type of tweaking. The pulling hair, screaming into a pillow type of tweaking.

He's Michael Kaiser, for fuck's sake, not some hopeless romantic! Why was he even thinking of you? You're so mid compared to him. Seriously, you didn't deserve to be going through his head 24/7. You didn't deserve the way he feels warm whenever he sees a smile grace your face, didn't deserve how stupidly much he wanted to be the reason for it— to be the reason you're happy.

Well, you're close to him, that much he can say. To the point the two of you had witnessed each other while on their most vulnerable. Kaiser found himself sincerely caring for you—but that doesn't mean he liked liked you.

So what? He could wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you around by your hand whenever the two of you were walking, and you could still be friends. In fact, he does lots of the latter. A lot of hand holding. He could say the weight of your hand was perfect against his–

God, he really needed to stop.

The way it’s nearing Valentines is not helping. Usually, he’d find these days boring and meaningless— but now that you’re in the picture? Yeah, no, it’s different. While crashing out over his feelings, he had come to a simple conclusion: He’s gonna ask you out. In the most extravagant way possible because he’s Michael Kaiser. Plus, if he was to ask you for a date with him, he needs to at least make it seem like you were the one desperate for him, and that he was only doing it as a favor. Really, he just wanted to take you out, though he denies it.

On the day, you were greeted by a notification from him, a short one, to not make it seem like he had been staring at his phone for minutes, debating how to write the message.

“Dress up, we're going somewhere.”

The text stated, making you wonder what the hell he’s making you get ready for so early in the morning. But you made the effort to follow along, anyway. If he was up to tomfoolery, you were in. Maybe you'll shit on couples, who knows.

You could hear him pull up an hour later, just in time when you were finished doing your morning routine. Opening the door, you were greeted with him leaning against the wall— acting all cool and composed, when he had been pacing back and forth anxiously while waiting for you to open the door— Kaiser spots you and pushes himself up, leaning on the doorframe, instead.

“Hey,” he forced the word out, trying not to let the way you looked so good get to him. His palms were sweating. Why were they sweating? He's not nervous. Totally not… was he? Kaiser forced out a smile, shoving an obnoxiously flashy bouquet of blue roses in your direction, having it from behind his back to in your arms. Seeing your puzzled expression, he rolled his eyes, shifting his position again to tilt his head, looking down at you.

This was his attempt at making a scene with close proximity, like what he had seen in those low-budget romcoms the both of you watch for shits and giggles. Really, he does not have any experience in relationships— all of this was ripped off straight out of movies and books he read, just to try and impress you.

“Happy valentines,” Kaiser greeted. Before it could seem too mushy and sweet, he followed up. “Since I just know you're lonely and all, I decided why the hell not take you out on a date? Better than being single while sappy couples are kissing all around you, hm? How lucky you are, scoring a date with me of all people.”

The surprise written on your face quickly transformed into a hint of slight annoyance. “...I never complained about being single on valentines…? Are you sure you didn't just wanna ask me out? I'm not shaming you for that,” you say, having a slightly amused grin right after. Kaiser wanted to wipe it right off your face.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, before offering you his hand. A simple, romantic gesture. “Yes, I'm asking you out.”

You stared at his hand, raising an eyebrow. To which he sighed, heat rising up to his face at the thought of being out here and doing something soft and romantic with you— wanting to see you smile and enjoy the day because of him. You weren't stupid, you saw the soft hues of red on the tips of his ears, and the way those blue eyes softened just the slightest as he muttered something out.

“Just hold my hand now.”

happy late valentines y'all 😓

taglist (ask to be added) @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku, @lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2025. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 3

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 3- The Rescue Mission

••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a slow, uneventful day—exactly what you’d wanted. You had spent the morning running errands, picking up a few things from town before finally making it home. Now, curled up on the couch, half-watching a show while scrolling on your phone, you were perfectly content to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

Then your phone buzzed.

Rafe: You busy?

You frowned, already suspicious.

You: I might be. Why?

Rafe: Because I need saving.

You snorted, shaking your head.

You: Let me guess… Amelia?

Rafe: What do you think?

You sighed, debating for a moment. Maybe it would be good for him to deal with her himself for once. But you also knew how persistent Amelia could be.

You: Sounds like a you problem, Cameron.

Rafe: Come on. Be a team player.

You: …How bad is it?

Rafe: Bad enough to text you :(

Before you could dwell on it too much, your mom walked into the room, grabbing her purse. “I’m heading out for a bit. Need a ride anywhere?”

“Actually, yeah,” you said, already slipping on your shoes.

——

When you arrived at the country club, you expected to find Rafe surrounded by Topper, Kelce, and maybe a few other guys, with Amelia clinging to him like always.

But instead, he was standing outside, alone.

You narrowed your eyes as you approached. “If you made me come all this way for nothing, you’re dead.”

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you unless I had no other option.”

“That bad?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Worse.”

You crossed your arms, waiting.

“I was having lunch with my family,” he started, “and Amelia just invited herself over, telling my dad, Rose, Sarah, and Wheezie that she and I have been getting to know each other.” He grimaced. “She’s acting like we’ve been seeing each other, and I told them we weren’t, but—”

“But Ward told you not to be rude and let her stay,” you finished, already knowing how this went.

Rafe pointed at you. “Exactly.”

You groaned. “So now what?”

“I told them I was going to the bathroom,” he said. “And now I need you to help me get rid of her. And make sure my family knows I’m not with her.”

You hesitated. “Rafe, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend in front of your dad.”

“Come on,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed how desperate he looked. “My dad likes you, okay? If you say we’re together, he’ll believe it, and Amelia will finally back off.”

You still weren’t convinced. “And what happens when he finds out it’s a lie?”

Rafe just shrugged. “That’s a future problem.”

You exhaled, glancing toward the entrance. “I swear to God, Cameron…”

Rafe smirked, sensing your hesitation cracking. “So you’ll do it?”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

His smirk widened. “No, you don’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out your hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Without hesitation, Rafe took your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And just like that, you walked into the lion’s den.

——

The Cameron family sat at a round table on the patio, the perfect picture of wealth and power. Ward sat at the head, Rose beside him, while Sarah and Wheezie chatted quietly. And, of course, Amelia stood close to Rafe’s empty chair, her hand way too close to where his arm would’ve been.

The moment you walked in, Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me?” she blurted.

Amelia turned—and her expression darkened instantly.

Ward raised an eyebrow. “Rafe?”

Rafe barely hesitated. “I wasn’t being rude earlier,” he said, looking directly at his father. “I was just trying to make it clear—I’m not with Amelia. Because I’m with someone else.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and you took that as your cue. “Hey, Mr. Cameron,” you said with an easy smile, leaning slightly into Rafe’s side. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing family lunch.”

Ward looked between you and Rafe, brow furrowed. “You two are together?”

“Yep,” Rafe said smoothly. “Have been for a little while now.”

Sarah still looked shocked, and Wheezie looked downright delighted, but the best reaction came from Amelia, whose face was rapidly turning red.

“You have to be joking,” she snapped.

“Why?” Rafe tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Jealous?”

Amelia scoffed. “Please. I just didn’t realize you’d lowered your standards so much.”

Your smile tightened. “You know, for someone who’s so sure I’m not a threat, you seem really upset about this.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Wheezie barely contained her laughter.

Rose just sipped her wine, watching you both closely. “Well,” she said, “this is… interesting.”

Ward nodded slowly, clearly still processing. “Hmm.”

Before they could say anything else, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, this has been fun, but we’ve got plans.”

“We do?” you muttered.

Rafe ignored you. “See you guys later.”

And with that, he pulled you away from the table, out of the club, and toward his truck.

As soon as you were outside, you smacked his arm. “You are so dead for that.”

Rafe just grinned, opening the truck door for you. “Relax. It worked, didn’t it?”

“You owe me.”

He just smirked. “That’s why I’m making it up to you right now.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you climbed into the truck. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the bed of his truck, legs crossed beneath you, a cup of ice cream in hand, on a hill overlooking the beach. Almost a little secret hideout you’ve never been to before.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “this is a pretty good spot. Romantic, even.”

Rafe scoffed. “If I was trying to be romantic, you’d know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what does romantic Rafe Cameron look like?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

You took a slow bite of your ice cream, then glanced at Rafe. “So… this isn’t where you bring all your girls?”

Rafe scoffed. “Please. You think I waste gas on just anyone?”

You hummed. “Mm. Seems like a solid move, though, so I must be very special.”

Rafe just smirks not giving you the satisfaction of an answer.

After a few moments of silence, he leaned back, voice softer. “You know… I never thought Alex was good enough for you.”

You looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you always deserved better than that asshole.”

You shook your head. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

Rafe smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, licking your spoon. “No promises.”

—————————————

Let me know what you think? Could be some drama in the coming parts???

Taglist: @rafecameronsbaeee

@drewwhor @wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz

@yourmomdotcom42069 @yasmin-oviedo

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@my-name-is-baby @rafecameronsslut1234

[oldsoul007]

kiss me

grumpy!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel despises the superficiality of Valentine’s Day, and you, a hopeless romantic who adores love in all its forms, find your friendship tested when you spend Valentine’s week together as single friends, only to discover unexpected feelings that blur the line between friendship and love.

a/n: a little valentine story for yall 💞

joel miller masterlist

Valentine’s week was my favorite time of year. Everything felt lighter, softer—like the world was wrapped in a warm, pink haze. Even if most people thought it was cheesy, I loved it. Love letters, heart-shaped candies, couples holding hands—it made me believe that love, real love, was still out there.

Joel Miller didn’t share that belief.

“Don’t even start,” Joel grumbled the moment he picked up my call, his deep, tired voice crackling through the phone.

I grinned, curling up on my couch with a cup of coffee. “Start what?” I teased, already picturing the irritated look on his face. “I was just calling to check on my favorite Valentine’s Grinch.”

He let out a long sigh, and I bit back a laugh.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“Well,” I drew out the word, knowing exactly how much he’d hate what I was about to say. “We’re both single this year. Why don’t we spend Valentine’s week together?”

There was a beat of silence. I imagined him blinking in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” I insisted. “Movies, takeout, no pressure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince you that love isn’t as terrible as you think it is.”

“Not happening,” he muttered, but I heard the faintest smile in his voice.

“Is that a yes?” I pressed, holding my breath.

Another long sigh, then—“Fine. But don’t expect me to wear anything pink.”

I laughed, my heart fluttering. “Deal.”

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope.

We spent almost every moment together, but never crossed the line. We did all the things couples do—late-night drives with music humming softly in the background, sharing breakfasts at the little diner on Main Street, walking through the park while I pointed out every couple holding hands just to watch Joel roll his eyes.

But neither of us said it. Neither of us dared to admit what was simmering beneath the surface.

“This is exhausting,” Joel muttered as we sat on a park bench, sipping coffee.

“What is?” I asked, smiling into my cup.

“All of this. People pretending for a week that they’re in love.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Not everyone’s pretending, you know.”

He scoffed. “Name one couple that ain’t puttin’ on a show.”

I didn’t even have to think. “My grandparents.”

Joel raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve been together for 53 years,” I said softly, my smile turning wistful. “They met in college. My grandpa still brings her flowers every Friday. And she still laughs at all his bad jokes.”

Joel let out a low hum, like he wasn’t sure if he believed me.

“I’m not saying it’s common,” I added, reading his mind. “But just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

He glanced at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too soft. My breath caught, but I looked away before my feelings betrayed me.

One afternoon, we ended up in the bookstore downtown, wandering through the aisles. Joel found himself in the history section, while I was drawn to the romance novels, of course.

“You’re really gonna read one of those?” he asked, leaning against the shelf with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, Joel,” I shot back, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. “It’s called escapism. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”

“Where love doesn’t exist?” I teased.

“Exactly.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless.”

As we walked out, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded toward an older couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, lost in their own little world.

“Look at them,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me that’s not real.”

Joel followed my gaze, but said nothing. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

It started with a simple plan—cook dinner, keep things light, pretend my heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting every time Joel Miller looked at me.

I wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough to whip up something decent. Joel sat at the counter, watching me with an amused expression, a beer in hand.

“You sure you’re not gonna burn the place down?” he teased.

I shot him a playful glare. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze.

I turned on some music to fill the silence, letting the soft strum of a guitar filter through the room. And then it happened—one of my favorite love songs started playing. A soft, sweet melody that made my chest ache.

“Uh-oh,” Joel muttered, already sensing what was coming.

I grinned, turning to face him. “Dance with me.”

“Y/n…” he warned, shaking his head.

“Please?” I stretched out the word, giving him my best pleading eyes. “For me?”

He let out a long sigh, but when I reached out my hand, he took it without a fight.

His hand was warm as he pulled me close, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused fingers. We swayed in my tiny kitchen, the smell of dinner forgotten, the music weaving around us like a secret only we knew.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, but there was a softness in his voice, in the way his hand rested on my waist.

“Maybe,” I whispered back, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it—the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in closer.

For a moment, it felt like we weren’t pretending anymore. Like the feelings we never spoke about were real, tangible.

When the song ended, Joel pulled back slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken.

“Dinner’s gonna burn,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

I laughed softly, but my heart still ached.

Because even when we danced around our feelings, I knew the truth.

Valentine’s Day arrived quietly, the way it always did.

I felt like I was losing my grip. Every smile, every lingering glance, every time Joel’s hand brushed against mine felt like it was unraveling me.

When I opened my apartment door that morning to find Joel standing there—grumpy expression firmly in place—holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, I froze.

“Uh… these are for you,” he mumbled, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I stared at the flowers, then at him, trying to process the fact that Joel Miller—the man who swore up and down that Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commercial scam—was holding flowers for me.

“Is this a joke?” I teased, even though my heart was racing.

“Do you want ‘em or not?” he grumbled, shoving them toward me.

I laughed softly, taking the bouquet from his hands. “They’re beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… you like this kinda thing. Figured you deserved somethin’ nice.”

My chest tightened at his words. Joel Miller, who claimed not to believe in love, had just done something more thoughtful than any grand gesture ever could be.

That night, we ended up back at my apartment, a bottle of wine between us, laughing over old memories.

“I don’t get it,” Joel said, leaning back on the couch, his voice quieter now. “You got your heart broken—bad—and you still believe in all this love stuff.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of my past relationship still a dull ache. “Because I know what it feels like to be loved, Joel. Even if it wasn’t forever. And I know what it feels like to be alone, too.”

He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not alone,” he whispered.

And for a moment, I let myself believe him.

The night felt endless, every moment stretching out between us like a question neither of us wanted to answer.

I could feel Joel beside me, the weight of his presence grounding me, but also unraveling me. The flowers he’d given me sat on the table, delicate and unexpected, just like him.

“Joel,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.

He turned to me, eyes darker than usual, something unreadable flickering in them.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, Joel was already moving.

His hand cupped my face, rough fingertips trailing along my jaw, and then his lips were on mine.

This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This wasn’t careful. This was Joel Miller finally giving in, finally letting go of every wall he had built around his heart.

His mouth pressed urgently against mine, and I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if holding on for dear life. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I felt everything in that kiss—every unspoken word, every moment we’d danced around our feelings, every piece of him he’d kept hidden from the world.

When we broke apart, breathless, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his voice rough and low.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”

I swallowed hard, my heart aching in the best way. “Then don’t.”

He kissed me again, softer this time, but with the same intensity, the same longing that had always been there—waiting for us to finally stop pretending.

In that moment, I knew. Joel Miller didn’t just care for me.

He loved me.

[revelboo]

WHIRL SMUT AND MY LIFE IS YOURS PLEASSEEEEEEEEEE OH LORD I BEG

Valentine’s Oneshot- Whirl

Whirl x Reader

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

• Sprawled on your belly, legs hanging over the edge of the container and trembling, you swallow a laugh as the barrels of his guns bump against your back and he swears. “Your tit guns in the way?” You tease and he growls at you, a claw landing on the container and sliding. Resting your cheek against your arm, you feel him shifting against you. Struggling.

• Still swearing as he tries to figure out how to fragging hold you while he’s still buried inside you, he vents. Realizing that with his modifications, that sort of intimacy isn’t happening. One more frag you from empurata. Gripping the edge of the container in his claws, he rocks himself against you. Because this, they can’t take from him. Can still claim what’s his. Hears your whimpering protest, as he moves against you, trying to shove down the frustration with the feel of your body under his. Slick and wrapped so tight around his spike. “You love my tit guns.”

• Body responding to the feel of his spike stroking deep, heating and coiling, you whimper. “Whirl, please. Right there.” Hips snapping against you, rougher than normal, tipping you over that edge again, already oversensitive as you cry out. And he keeps going, riding it out as you tremble before he’s filling you again and his gun barrels bump against you as he swears. There’s an edge to his angry, frustrated profanity you recognize and you reach back to push at him. “Off.”

• Growling a protest, he slips free, watching his excess dampening your thighs. And you roll onto your hip, patting the container. “Bring it in,” you say, frowning at him when he hesitates. “Move it.” Bossy. Climbing up beside you, he lays on his side mirroring your position as best he can. And you grab his head in both hands, staring at his one optic. What do you see when you look at him? A monster? Do you pity him? Thinking about what they’d done to him makes him feel chaotic. Makes him want to destroy something. Lash out. Instead, he’s still as you run soft fingers over his head, then reach to play with his claws. Can’t really hold you. Touch you. Kiss you. ‘Handsomest fragger you’ve ever seen, right?’ He asks, trying to make it a joke and you press a kiss against his helm. “Damn straight.”

• Feel him freeze at your words, before he’s curling on his side and laying his head in your lap. He won’t talk about it. About what happened to him, but you’d asked around. The picture the others had painted of empurata had horrified you. Made you want to hunt down the mechs that did this to him. Taking his face, his hands. Taking his life away because he’d dared to speak up. To question the senate. Hands stroking over him, you watch him tuck his claws against his chassis under his guns. Being uncharacteristically quiet as you try to soothe him. To show him you see him, not what they did to him.

[yukautism]

Valentine’s Day with Arcane Characters 💖💐

What better way to celebrate than with some Arcane x reader headcanons? Enjoy everyone & have a happy valentines ! 💌

❤️ Vi-

Vi secretly loves Valentine’s Day. She makes you breakfast in bed, takes you out on a fun day outing with some shopping sprinkled in, then you eat at your favorite restaurant. Through the day, Vi is complimenting you, opening doors, and whispering seductive thoughts in your ear. You end the day naked in bed together and neither of you get much sleep that night. Vi wants to keep you pleased and knowing that she does makes her prideful.

🧡 Ekko-

He loves a little lowkey date where it is just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. He plans a picnic under the stars and packs the basket with your favorite treats. Ekko’s gift to you would be several little gifts he handcrafted to represent your favorite things/ personality and a bouquet of flowers he picked himself. Ekko doesn’t choose a quiet date because he wants to hide you; he appreciates the soft intimacy you share when you’re away from others.

💛 Mel-

Mel wakes you up with kisses and cuddles in bed. She had this idea planned for weeks and wanted you to get the most relaxing day possible. Her gift to you is a couples spa weekend where you can go to enjoy each other and let the tension from your daily lives melt away. Mel loves seeing you in nothing but a robe, and takes any chance she can to touch your bare skin or sneak you a kiss. The spa also has a pool you both lounge by and feed each other fruit. By the time you return home, you’re both feeling refreshed and somehow more in love than before.

💚 Viktor-

Viktor’s ideal way to spend Valentine’s Day is snuggling on the couch watching movies together. The busyness of the holiday overwhelms him, so he prefers for the two of you to stay in, which you’re more than okay with. Viktor gifts you a box of chocolates and rents any movies you two decide to watch that night. You order takeout, and banter about the movies you each decide to watch. Viktor could not feel happier than he does with you.

🩵 Jinx-

Jinx likes Valentine’s Day in a non-traditonal sense. She loves to gift you obscure cards that say things like ‘Life would BLOW without you’ or ‘You make my heart go BOOM’ accompanied by a picture of an explosion. Her favorite way to spend the day is to try a new thing with you; no matter if that‘s trying a new skill class together, exploring a new area, or traveling to a nearby theme park, she’s down. Jinx doesn’t like to plan things in advance and prefers to let the holiday go how it goes, but she makes sure you enjoy yourself and feel loved regardless.

💙 Caitlyn-

Caitlyn is the type to plan dinner reservations at a high establishment restaurant for you. She spares no expense when it comes to showing you how much you mean to her. She wears her nicest dress. It’s something that shows off her figure, but keeps you wanting more until she can get you home and have her way with you. Cait’s gift to you is a large bouquet of flowers and jewelry that has your initials engraved on it.

💜 Sevika-

Sevika never really understood the hype about Valentine’s Day. She just saw it as another day, but seeing how happy it makes you changed her stance. Sevika likes to gift you new lingerie set every year; partly because she thinks you’re hot, and partly because that means she can rip them off you with less worries. Sevika would also buy a couple bottles of your favorite alcohol and order takeout from your favorite restaurant. You spend the evening watching trashy tv, making out, and getting intoxicated before moving the party to your bedroom for the night.

🤍 Jayce-

Jayce spent weeks forging a bouquet of metal roses for you. When you get home, Jayce has your favorite meal cooked and laid out ready for you, with the bouquet in the middle of the table. Jayce is dressed in a suit, and smiling ear to ear. He wraps you up in a hug and kisses your face. He lets you freshen up and wash the day off, while he finishes the last touches of the dessert. You end the night tipsy, full of laughter, and barefoot while dancing to music in your formalwear.

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Apocalyptic winter

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, pregnancy (not very detailed), pregnancy nausea, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, grooming, mentions of Sarah & Sarah's mom, victim blaming, angst, depression

"Baby, who did this to you?"

Blood came rushing into your brain, a dull thumping at your temples as you looked up from your seat in Maria and Tommy's couch. Your body begun to shake, because you had silently prayed they wouldn't ask you that. That they'd be too disappointed to do it. But no, Tommy's worried eyes set on you as Maria couldn't do more than blankly stare at the coffee table before you.

Almost as instinct you shook your head, tears kissing your eyelids in a stinging pace.

"It's our fault," You had heard them mutter in the kitchen as you came to them that morning after pouring your soul out on your toilet; you had felt like shit for almost a month now, and Joel did little to calm you down. His priority after the "date" had shifted, and you felt as if every moment with him revolved around bending you over or getting his hands up your skirt. "We never taught her about it-for fuck's sake she's almost twenty-"

After Maria asked about your period and you had lightly commented that you hadn't got it yet, her eyes glazed over with fear as her dark lips parted.

Pregnant.

That was your diagnostic, and it doomed on you. You could barely understand it as it was, perhaps because you have never had to worry about it, or perhaps because you didn't knew better.

"Babygirl," He called again softly, and it irked you. The nickname both brothers used on you, Tommy in his fatherly concern and Joel in his wild savagery. "You are fine, it's fine, jus' need to know who."

How could you tell him that the man that had done that to you was the man whose pictures hang behind him, on top of the fireplace? The man who had just come for dinner the night before and you had called him an "Ol' grumpy man" as you giggled? the very man that had taken you home afterwards and fucked you until you apologized?

Would you have to tell him, then, all the things you had allowed him to do? How he made you come in his fingers? how he had shoved his cock up your throat? How he had fucked you on the bed Tommy himself had built for you?

"No," You panted, feeling your hands clammy from how tight you had them fisted. "Please Tommy, don't make me-"

"Sweatheart," Maria cooed. "Was it-" She stammered with her words, and you felt her breathe getting ragged, as if she was going to say something unspeakable "against your will?"

You felt something clawing at you, a desire to say yes that was strong as the desire to say no when Joel slammed you against your couch, hiking your knees up and wide. But the same way you would plead for more then, you shook your head stubbornly.

"N-no, no," You chanted, seeing their expressions shift slightly. Oh god, they were so disappointed. "I-I wanted it."

Filth pooled from your lips, filth that Joel had set onto you.

"Baby, we need a name." Tommy spoke again, voice harder now despite his softened eyes.

Any name, you thought, the possibility of lying your way out scaring you by even appearing in your head.

"I can't." You croaked, feeling the tears fall down your warm cheeks as you once again failed them.

"Tommy," Maria called, and you felt grateful the attention wasn't on you anymore, until she mumbled the next words. "I think I know."

You wanted to jump on the couch and scream she doesn't, but that level of disrespect was too much for you.

"Then tell me." He demanded, hands on his hips twitching. Maria gave you one look, as if it was your last chance to repent, before opening her lips.

"I-I didn't want to believe it," she started, and it doomed on you that she knew, every little sight she left out building anticipation on you. You barely noticed how wild your hands were shaking. "but I heard whispers about Joel going into her house at night."

A sob broke the silence, face slamming into your hands; because it was never supposed to go this far, because you thought that if they ever knew it would be because of you. Because once Joel had whispered to hush you, that perhaps were you were old enough, it could be.

You heard thundering steps and you flinched, face still cradled in your hands, but as they dissipated, you managed the courage to look up. Only Maria was in the room, and you were to scared to ask were Tommy was, perhaps you knew better.

But any trace of anger wasn't present in her face, and as she casted one look at you, she stood up from her seat and came crashing down at the couch besides you. She hugged you silently.

You realized how much you missed it when you heard raw, bickering voices nearing the house; you felt yourself shaking once again as the door opened, seeing him so fervently.

You whimpered at his glare, deep dark eyes and dark brows, and at the swelling bruise by his jaw; his lip looked busted too. You remembered what Tommy had once told you when you were fifteen, if any guy tries to be smart with ya I'll be his worst nightmare. But of course you had never imagined the guy to be his own brother.

He escorted him in, glaring holes into the back of his head. Joel stopped, as if waiting for someone to tell him to sit down. His way of acting was uncharacteristic, but you knew he wouldn't pick a fight with Tommy, and it was possibly why Tommy only sported bruised, bleeding knuckles.

He looked at you, and then at him, all in a scowl as Tommy nudged him to sit down. He did, spreading and laying his hand over the back rest on the chair, as if he wanted this over with.

You saw the man that had practically raise you hesitate with his words, anger still coursing through his flushed skin as he held one pointer finger at him.

"Tell me what did you do to her." He barked, deep beneath knowing he didn't want to know, just wanted him to recognize him. Joel stayed silent, eyes jumping from you to him to Maria as he rubbed the scruff on his beard. "Tell me!"

You jolted, catching everyone's attention, shaking so violently tears jumped from your eyes to your lap. You felt yourself becoming sweaty from how profusely you were crying.

"You know what I did-"

His voice was dark, bitter, and it brought shivers down your spine.

"Tell. Me." Tommy repeated. Joel grew irritated.

"Yeah we fucked, is that what you wanna hear?" Joel bit. "What's the big deal? not like I fucking raped her-"

"Do you even know how old she is?"

"Yeah, nineteen." Joel gruffed, but he stared at you as if you could had been lying. "Legal now and legal before."

Tommy laughed dryly, ironically. "Older than what Sarah would be."

The name seemed to perk up you and Joel; you knew who she was, and what happened to her, but never from Joel.

"Keep her out of this shit." Joel growled, thought melancholy strained his voice.

"The shit now is what you have gotten yourself into." Tommy spat, and Joel groaned, the seriousness of the situation escaping him. "You got her pregnant."

As if a bomb had burst, silence spread through in a deafening pace. You felt your chest begin to close as you wanted to claw at him, throw yourself at his feet and beg for him to stay besides you.

He remained stoic, hard as he evaded your pleading eyes.

"Ain't got stuff to take it out like the old days?" He asked Maria, so calmly it made you go cold.

"No, Joel," Maria answered shortly, a tangy bitter drawl. "the world had gone to shit, and once again you are getting the wrong girl pregnant."

The wrong girl. It rung in your ears, because you had been Joel's good girl for too long, his baby girl, his sweet little thing and his perfect little whore.

"Then what do you want me to do?" He questioned, and the way not one of his words were directed to you hurt. Tommy nibbled his lips, unsure too. "We don't precisely have child support here, don't we?"

His words came out cynically, as if searching for a escape goat.

Please look at me, please, let me show you how sorry I am, please, Joel.

"You are-You are going to get everything she needs and makes sure she doesn't have to lift one finger." Tommy decided, making his brother howl in frustration. It felt awry, uneasy, how they were discussing this in front of you, without you having one word to say.

You dueled on what you would say if you had the word, perhaps beg Joel to form a family, perhaps tell Tommy that you can take the burden yourself, but the tension in the living room and the way he looked at you, disgusted, sent you mute.

"Gonna act like she wasn't the one spreading her legs?" Joel irked, making Tommy narrow his eyes at him, dangerously. He looked at you, directly for the first time, and spoke to you in his bittersweet drawl. "Why don't you tell them, honey? how you told me you were ready for it-"

"Enough!" Maria bellowed, raising to her feet. But Joel wouldn't seize it, standing as his thick boots thundered the floorboards.

"Yeah because it's easier to come crying to mommy and daddy about it-"

"Joel!" Tommy barked, cutting him off. "I think it is better for you to leave now, you have done enough."

He spared you one look before turning in his heel, his shoulder bumping against Tommy as he left the Miller's house. No, no, NO, begun thundering in your head as you jump to your feet, ignoring Maria as you followed him out into the open door.

"Joel!" You screamed, and he ignored you, shoulder blades tensing. You ran up to him, clinging to his arm. He stopped, possibly not to trample you as he kept his gaze ahead, onto the slowly-filling streets. "I-I swear I didn't tell them- please, Joel-"

He shook you off, not with enough force to send you stumbling down, but so enough to staggered in your feet.

"This was a fucking mistake," He growled at you, and you shook your head, pounding from how much you were crying. "and you are a fucking idiot, stupid whore-"

He cut himself off, seeing how you begged at him, and continued walking away. You heard your name being called, but you just felt onto the cobblestone, chest heaving as you cried your little heart out for him.

The rumor spread, until it was no longer a rumor; it was a fact. Joel Miller had gotten you pregnant. You hid in your house for so long your friends stopped dropping by, knowing they will only see you laying in your couch, red faced and hoarse throat.

Joel wouldn't even deliver things himself, Tommy did it. He and Maria dropped by at least once every day, to see how you were going. They saw you cracking, falling deeper and deeper into hysteria each time. You cried, you laughed, you barely ate and then you binged. All as your tummy swelled.

For some moments you felt as if you didn't know what was growing inside of you, something draining your energy that Joel had thrust upon you. You hadn't seen him in months, and it tore at you.

You had changed the scenario millions of times; sometimes mad at him, sometimes mad at yourself, and sometimes even mad at Tommy and Maria for not teaching you better; but those times were only when the pregnancy took the worst out of you, when you found yourself hurling over the toilet seat and dealing with unbearable pain in your body.

He wasn't there either when you had your baby, just Maria by your side. The overwhelming pain left once she handed you the baby, a gorgeous little girl. In Jackson's small, ran down hospital you stared once again into the eyes of Joel Miller; two dark, chocolaty puppy dog eyes that needed you. It was enough for you at the moment.

But the pleasure was short-lived, as you recovered from birth in the small living room of your house, Tommy cradling the baby in his arm as he cooed and giggled at her and Maria massaged your feet, gently.

"Now I have to go get all that pink stuff," Tommy told the baby between giggles. "and I risked my ass for that firefighter truck huh?"

You laughed, recalling the box Tommy had brought a few weeks before, a box with baby clothes and the firey red toy on the top; he hoped for a boy, but he would never tell you.

"What do you mean, risked your ass?" You laughed, picking up on the last sentences, you had taken a good load of pain medications to ease the aftermath. Probably overkill, but it was easier like that. Your giggles dissipated as you saw his expression souring, Maria ceasing her ministration on your soles. "Tommy?"

Confusion nagged at you, and Maria sighed, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "Well, Joel hasn't brought anything since um, September I think-" she then added quickly, seeing your horrified expression, "But don't worry yourself about it-"

You gasped in awe, a bit of pain shooting into your chest. Mostly for becoming such a burden to Maria and Tommy, but Joel was... unbelievable.

You had allowed him not coming to see you, you had taken his absence and disinterest, but this hurt worse than that. This was disrespect.

And the thing was, that you had grown tougher. You felt obliged to, for your sake, and your baby's sake, you had left behind your girly fantasies of love and sneaking drinks in the Tipsy Bison. Somehow, Joel Miller had made you a women in more than one way.

And he was about to see it for himself.

[muqingslover]

[ Caleb canonically doing MC's laundry has set something off in my brain so here I am. Also, happy Valentine's day ! here's a longer one as a treat from me ;) I've been posting kinda of non-stop haha ] if you saw me post this before no you didn't

This has happened before. In fact, it had happened a few too many times for his sanity's sake. Whenever Caleb offered to do your laundry to be helpful he always had to deal with the strain in his pants that he pretended wasn't there by covering his lap with a magazine and thinking about literally anything else besides that tantalizing piece of fabric. He's been a good man, or at least he's always tried to be one for you. But was it really his fault if the situation was presented to him with a quite literally adorable little red bow?

Still, he has an admiring amount of self-restraint and for days he told himself he should give them back to you. Every time you two met he kept waiting for the moment to return it, clutching the fabric in his pocket, but all he received were reasons not to. Or perhaps, he just saw what he wanted to see. That's how a week turned into months and then the tortuous years without contact that drove him to the brink of insanity. Fighting back the urge to find you again and do everything his mind has fantasized about countless times was one of the hardest battles he ever faced, and that was saying something.

"Fuck..." He exhaled shakily. His head hit the wall behind him and he spread his legs further on the chair of his private quarters, keeping a firm hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It started after he found the old pair of panties that he had so carefully stored away and now all his mind had to offer were twisted fantasies. Caleb was in biiig trouble— He had to leave in less than fifteen minutes for a meeting and there were security officers constantly passing by his door, but he was past the stage that a simple cold shower and mental math equations would make the issue go away. The images of how the fabric would've adorned your curves in all the right places were soon followed by the memories of how sometimes he'd get a sneak peek when you bent over in front of him and gods that was the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

His metallic hand clutched the delicate fabric tighter as he trapped the lace between his teeth to force down another low groan when his palm began moving up and down again and the faint smell of your soap made his mind feel fuzzy. He was so sensitive that it ached to be touched— He was sure if this was your hand he'd have come on the spot the second your fingers brushed against him. Hell, if you breathed a bit too closely to his cock he'd fall apart like the pathetic man he is and he can only picture how your beautiful face would look covered with his cum. Can you blame him though? He's never even considered doing this with anyone else, nor will he ever do that, and his busy military life didn't leave much space for his own...moments.

He released the lace from his teeth and pressed the red fabric against his swollen tip, accidentally letting out a strained moan that was a bit too loud as his eyes rolled back into his head. He decided to quickly shut himself up by pushing his dog tag into his mouth to bite down on the metal, otherwise everyone outside his room would know just what the colonel was doing. Caleb imagined that the wet line his precum had made was because of your arousal for him instead. The way it would seep through the thin fabric and mark your pussy for him in such a filthy way. The way he'd lick along the damp spot and enjoy each and every sound that he'd surely drag out of your throat while he had your thighs around his head.

His hips jerked as he thrusted himself into his hand, into your panties, into you. The room filled with his barely contained ragged breathing as he hoped your pussy would be as much of a slippery mess as his cock was right now when he pushed past your slit, stretching you open so good yet so agonizingly slow. His grasp around his length was tight when the friction of the thin fabric against his dripping cock sent him over the edge and he came so hard his body twitched non-stop. His dog tag slipped from his lips, dangling around his neck again as he slumped back against the chair after his strength left his body momentarily.

His eyes landed on the red panties that were now coated in his thick, white cum and Caleb raised his hand to bring the messy cloth to his lips. He pushed his tongue out and licked along right at the middle where your soaked cunt would be, tasting his own release and wishing it was yours. It was a shame he had gotten such a pretty and precious thing dirty but, not to worry, he's always been good at cleaning up.

[yanderemommabean]

Idk if you know solo leveling but 100% I choose jinwoo there something about him that makes him perfect yandere material for me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

The way he'd send his bouquet would be so cute yet threatening too. Blue and black roses, cute candies, and a black envelope with his own handwriting that just says "I already have those specialty rooms rented. Don't waste my time. "

Probably used his attachment to his system and stats to find you, which barely took ten minutes. As soon as he has you, it's straight to the red rooms. Of course he's prattling on about why he loves you, why he chose you, why you aren't EVER leaving, it's how he sets the mood! Unfortunately on days like this, he has to be kind of fast with the romance so you two aren't hurt or killed by other yanderes who are also hunting.

I picture he's the type to go full force at first, claiming you entirely while you writhe and gasp, blubbering out tears when the pleasure begins to hurt, and right as you think you're about to be given a break- He sits back, pours himself a drink, and says "Thank god they have good toys here. I want to see just how much I can drain from you...wonder if I can use the system to make it last longer."

Any other day, Jinwoo would take his time, acting like a wolf circling prey, making you nervous with every word and every movement. he loves how scared you act, knowing he's in full control, that he hold everything about your life in the balance with his power.

Jinwoo loves breaking you down. You just look your best when you're too weak to fight back and have to take what he gives you.

When you finally crumple and give in, he's the sweetest thing. Acts like a giant attention starved puppy who craves your attention, any sort of interaction, but is more than capable of murder and mayhem.

-Mommabean