#the donut will never return...

[theosphobia]

oomfie requested donut taking care of grif's hair , wip wip runs

[britneyshakespeare]

kaily and i are going to dunkin donuts tomorrow morning

[monsieur-neuvillette]

( Probably going to take a little break for a bit from Neuvillettes account, probably a weekend or so, just been busy irl and im just kinda tuckered out and lacking inspiration and motivation, so activity will probably be low/none beyond art and queues )

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A little bit of jam [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!mutant!reader

wc: 2.5k

Marvel and I are so fucking back, baby!! I think this mass love hysteria toward Bob is the best, and I honestly wanted to play with the "found family" trope a little because I love it so much. I hope you like it!

and if u have any idea, let me know ;)

Two months had already passed.

Two months since the sky split in two, since the world almost went to hell—again—and since a dysfunctional group of dangerously competent people were thrust into the headlines as the new “heroes.” No one was sure if the title was too big or too accurate. The only clear thing was that, after surviving hell together, you had ended up sharing something more than a mission.

Now you lived in the old Avengers Tower. Together.

It wasn't an official government decision or part of any rehabilitation protocol. It just happened. Most of you didn't have a fixed place to return to, and the few who did... didn't want to return at all. So, without saying it out loud, you started staying. One night. Then a week. Then a sofa became a bed, a kitchen became a habit, and lights left on at all hours stopped seeming strange. Without seeking it, you had made it work. As if the disaster had woven an impossible routine between people who, otherwise, would never have shared more than one mission.

Nobody said it, but you knew it.

You finally, amid all that chaos, felt like you fit in somewhere. You weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t an X-Men, you were never officially from anywhere. You’d grown up far from anyone who could explain to you what to do about your mutation, and you’d spent more time evading labels than claiming them. But now… now you had a room with your name written on the door in permanent marker (thanks to Yelena), a mug for your coffee (which sometimes Alexei stole from you), and an old Bob sweatshirt that you’d sometimes find hanging on your desk chair for no reason; as if someone knew when you needed it more than you did.

So, little by little, you began to look more like a team, a real team. But also, in a way, you shared a certain familiarity that all of you definitely needed in your lives.

Weekends were occasions, without explicitly stating it, to spend time together. Sometimes you'd just gather in the living room, put on a movie, and the rest would join in, or someone would start drinking, and soon you were all doing it.

Speaking of which, that day you had decided that a few boxes of donuts wouldn't hurt you and your friends. Maybe you could even make some coffee, since with the rain that had started to fall in the city, that seemed like a good plan.

When you walked in, you could see most of them. Yelena was sitting on the floor, completely wrapped in a huge blanket, eating a bag of chips with her feet up on the coffee table. Ava was leaning against the wall, silently observing everything, her arms crossed and a neutral expression that didn't quite hide her curiosity. John Walker was flipping through a magazine upside down, clearly just pretending to read while he kept an eye on what you had brought. Alexei was snoring in the largest armchair, face up, a remote control resting on his chest, as if it were a sacred artifact. Bucky was leaning against the counter, probably making himself a drink or reviewing policy documents.

And Bob… Bob was probably in his room. You noticed he was sleeping a lot lately. Not because he was lazy, not because he was idle, but because he was carrying his own mind, his memories, The Void… exhausted him in ways the others could barely understand. So none of you blamed him for taking long naps.

“I brought donuts,” you announced, in case anyone hadn’t noticed the packages you were holding.

NO one refused the food, and even Alexei, who seemed to be asleep, got up to get a couple upon hearing your announcement. You'd bought a variety of flavors, a box of classics and some more sophisticated ones, so almost all of you sat down at the coffee table to enjoy.

You exchanged a few pleasantries, talked about things that had happened and possible future missions. At one point, when everyone had already eaten at least two pieces, you saw Walker's hand reach for the box of donuts.

Serious mistake.

“NO!” you screamed, almost like a spring.

John froze, his finger brushing the blackberry's glossy glaze.

“Why not?” he asked, offended, as if you had denied him the last glass of water on the planet.

“That one’s for Bob.”

“But Bob isn’t here.”

“But it’s for him!” you insisted, crossing your arms, as if that closed the case.

“There’s more!”

“But don’t eat that one. Eat anything else.”

“It’s my favorite!”

“Well, what a shame, there’s only one and it’s not yours.”

Suddenly, everyone seemed interested in the donut. It was a blackberry donut with vanilla glaze, a small work of art in dessert form. The fluffy, lightly browned dough was covered in a smooth, glossy glaze that smelled of natural vanilla extract, not the cheap, cloying imitation. Above the glaze, a purple swirl of homemade jam snaked like a miniature galaxy, with tiny pieces of blackberry peeking out here and there like barely revealed secrets.

“I saw it first,” he replied, his hand now closer to the box.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!”

By then, Ghost had already materialized behind John, her head peeking out from over his shoulder.

"What if I cut it into two equal parts? Half for each of you."

“I said no!” you shouted.

“Do it,” John concluded, lifting the box to give it to Ava.

Yelena, sitting on the couch, gave a curious look while she chewed her third donut with total shamelessness.

"Why don't we just hide it and see who finds it first? Like a stupid, grown-up version of a treasure hunt?"

“No one’s going to hide that donut. I already told you it’s Bob’s,” you complained, twisting around to shield the box with your body as if it were a nuclear device.

Alexei, sitting at the bar with a beer in his hand, licked his lips.

"I say the only fair solution is hand-to-hand combat. Whoever wins keeps it!"

“No!” you shouted, and Bucky joined in. However, your friends had a different opinion.

“I fight,” Ghost said.

“You didn’t even want it in the first place!”

“Me too,” Walker said, already taking off his jacket.

“I can eat it while you guys fight!” Yelena said, but you had already thrown a pillow at her with surgical precision.

The room became a chaotic choreography: Walker dodging Ava, Yelena climbing the back of the couch like a cat on sugar overload, you trying to put the box on top of the cupboard, Ghost dematerializing mid-leap.

From his position, Bucky watched you like an exhausted dad and issued a warning about not breaking any of the furniture. Alexei, at his side, was shouting to encourage the fight.

Peace only returned when a sleepy voice was heard from the hallway:

“Why are you shouting? What time is it?”

Bob peeked out, his hair a mess and his eyes still squinting from his nap. The chaos stopped. You all looked at him. And you held the box up in the air like it was a trophy.

“Take it away!”

"What?"

“Take it!” you practically ordered him.

The poor man stumbled over to you and snatched the box from you, hearing a collective sigh. You were relieved, the others were annoyed.

"What is this?"

“I bought you a donut,” you explained simply.

Then he frowned and opened the box. It was a little squashed, but the blackberry dessert was still in one piece.

Bob blinked.

“Were you all killing each other over a donut?”

Perhaps it was the incredulous tone of voice, or how ridiculous the situation sounded when said out loud, but suddenly all of you found yourself holding back a laugh. A few seconds later, laughter erupted.

“What a shitty team we are.”

“We can share it, if you want…”

"Yes!"

“No!” you shouted in unison. Bob flinched slightly at the tone of your voice. “Walker can choke on all that’s left, but that one’s for you.”

You said it in a way that left no room for argument and he smiled slightly.

“It’s my favorite.”

“That’s what I said!” John complained. However, he didn’t pursue the matter further and approached the others, taking two more donuts as a sign of resignation.

As quickly as chaos had appeared, it was gone.

Alexei occasionally expressed his approval of what had just happened, arguing that this kind of situation was an exercise in group bonding. You thought you heard Bucky call you idiots, but in a tone that made it clear he didn't mean it.

"Here"

Your murmur brought Bob out of his thoughts, and he smiled broadly when you placed a mug in his hand. It was a gift from Yelena and was inscribed with: Today is a good day. Very appropriate, in your opinion.

"Thanks”

“Two of milk and one of sugar,” you announced with satisfaction.

His happiness only increased when he realized that you were actually paying attention to him.

You plopped down next to him on the soft couch—most people's favorite when it came to a nap—and he shrank down to give you space, sitting in the lotus position as he always did.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. That day, he was wearing a thick, slightly baggy olive-green sweater with slightly long sleeves. The color had a muted hue, like moss or old pine, which brought out the sparkle in his eyes.

There was a white T-shirt underneath, barely visible at the neck. A pair of soft, dark gray sweatpants, the kind with drawstrings and deep pockets. And on his feet, a pair of dark socks with which he glided around the tower.

He didn't look scruffy, just comfortable.

“I got scared a little while ago. I thought something bad was happening.”

You let out a soft chuckle at his confession, feeling the tension in the air melt away.

“I’m sorry we woke you up.”

“Don’t worry. At least it wasn’t in vain,” he smiled reassuringly, taking a sip of his hot drink. The steam brushed his face before he opened the dessert box and looked at him with more than just hunger.

“How did you know this was my favorite?” he asked, surprised, as he carefully turned the box over in his hands.

“You told me.”

He looked up at you, clearly confused.

“Well… you didn’t tell me directly. I heard you muttering it in your sleep.”

“Do I talk in my sleep?”

“Apparently so. And you actually answer. Because when you said I'd give you a donut, I asked you what you were talking about… and you said you wanted this one.”

"How embarrassing.”

“It’s kinda cute, if you think about it.”

The rest of the group was absorbed in their conversations, muted laughter, and the occasional impromptu board game. Between you, the air felt more intimate, softer.

Bob took a bite of the donut. The slight crackle of the glaze broke with the sound of a deep sigh, as if something inside had loosened.

“When I was a good kid, my mom used to give me money to buy one of these,” his voice lowered slightly, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should share “It wasn’t all the time, of course. And sometimes we went together, on the… the better days, you know. I think everything seemed simpler back then.”

He was silent for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, maybe that’s why I mentioned it in my sleep.”

“Oh… I… had no idea.”

“But it's a good thing. I forgot how good it tastes” a soft, nostalgic smile spread across his face. “I always liked this flavor because it has just the right amount of sweetness, with a hint of sourness. “I feel like it’s very similar to what life is like.”

He was silent again for a second, fiddling with the napkin between his fingers.

“It’s probably not something you’re interested in, but…”

“Yes, I’m interested,” you quickly interrupted “Any story you want to tell us will interest us, Bob. There’s Alexei with all his anecdotes from his years in the service… we’ve never complained, even though he tells them over and over again.”

He laughed a little, brief but genuine.

“Do you want to try some?”

“But it’s yours”

“I'd like you to try it. It's something I want to share.”

You hesitated for only a second before accepting. You leaned closer and took a small bite from the side opposite the one he'd tried. The flavor was more intense than you expected: sweet, sour, and smooth all at the same time.

Bob watched you silently, as if observing your reactions was more important than the dessert itself. When your lips curved into a smile, he nodded, satisfied.

“It's delicious.”

“Um, you have a little bit of jam left…” he said softly, leaning slightly towards you. He raised a hand, hesitant, then pointed a finger at your lower lip “This way.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth. The air seemed to stop for a moment.

For a moment, just a moment, it seemed as if he was going to lean closer. That he was going to wipe the jam off with his lips instead of his hand.

His eyes searched yours. And then, he took a deep breath. He lowered his hand, barely brushing your chin with his fingertips, and pulled away with a shy smile.

"That's it."

You didn't say anything at first. The warmth was still there, floating in the air, unnamed.

“You should, uh, drink your coffee. Before it gets cold.”

Your friend nodded at your suggestion and after that you tried to shake the nervousness from your mind, ignoring the sting that still burned where he had touched you.

Minutes later, fatigue began to take its toll. The noise of the group became a distant murmur, almost like a lullaby in the background. Bob leaned back slightly on the couch, still holding his cup in one hand. Without thinking twice, you approached and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Do you mind if I stay like this for a while?” you asked quietly.

“No. Stay”

His words were gentle. There was something so serene about him that made you close your eyes. Your arm instinctively reached for his, wrapping it around him in a gesture that didn't ask for permission, only offered shelter.

Bob stayed still, careful with every movement, as if breathing deeply could bother you. He felt your weight against his side, your breathing slowing. The warmth of your body was unlike any blanket; it was human, alive.

He felt held, loved, in a way he hadn't known he needed so much.

The team was always affectionate toward him. Many patted him on the back, hugged him unexpectedly, or sat very close without question. But this… this was different. It wasn't a casual display of affection. It was something that asked him to stay. Something that said: you're safe here.

He looked at you once more. You were already asleep, your lips parted and your brow barely relaxed. And although the chair wasn't entirely comfortable, and the noise continued in the background, Bob didn't want to move.

Not that night.

[mattsundaes]

OVERRATED // matsukawa issei x f!reader

You’re convinced that getting fingered is overrated. Your roommate shows you otherwise, since you’ve clearly never been with someone who knows what they’re doing.

2.6k — 18+, roommates to lovers, fingering, mattsun and those goddamn hands

A woman sits in a dark booth in the back corner of a restaurant, lower lip tucked between her teeth, fingers digging into the edges of her seat as she tries not to make it obvious that the man beside her has his hand up her skirt. 

“There’s no way it feels that good for her,” you scoff, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as you stare judgmentally at the television screen. 

Matsukawa looks from you, to the movie, and back again. “Getting fingered?”

Your eyes flit over to where your roommate’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one brow raised as he lifts a can of soda to his lips.

The woman on the television screen moans.

(This isn’t porn, for the record.)

“Yeah? I mean this is like, false advertising.”

Matsukawa blinks. “I literally do not think I’ve ever met a girl who doesn’t enjoy being fingered.”

A sudden surge of heat licks at the back of your neck at his words, and you force your attention back to the screen. “And just how many girls have you—actually, you know what. Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, and the two of you are silent for another five minutes or so before he speaks up again.

“So you’ve never had an orgasm just from being fingered then.”

Matsukawa says it bluntly, plainly, like he’s completely unbothered by the prospect of casually discussing sex with you on your couch on a Friday night. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, popping the ‘P’ for emphasis.

He’s not looking at you when he replies, “That’s a shame.”

—

Your phone lights up with a notification for a text message from Matsukawa on Sunday morning while you’re still in bed. You’re pretty sure he left the apartment early to get breakfast with Hanamaki, and he’s yet to return.

Mattsun: can you text makki and tell him you think getting fingered is overrated Mattsun: he doesn’t believe me >>: …. >>: so like >>: sometimes makki can just maybe not know things Mattsun: you spent twenty minutes last week telling both of us about your last date who couldn’t get it up Mattsun: in detail Mattsun: with a donut and >>: OKAY YEAH YEAH Mattsun: :)

Collapsing back against your pillows, you groan before opening your text thread with Hanamaki.

>>: getting fingered is overrated, makki Hanamaki: wow he wasn’t kidding  Hanamaki: wild >>: now can you make sure he brings me home a coffee Hanamaki: k Hanamaki: u act like he would ever forget something u asked for >>: what’s that supposed to mean Hanamaki: also though Hanamaki: when are u guys going to fuck

You drop your phone on the mattress, looking around the room as if Hanamaki himself is sitting in the corner snickering at you. 

>>: i’m sorry what >>: who >>: how did we get here Hanamaki: at least ask HIM to finger u  Hanamaki: because this shit is DEpressing >>: i’m blocking your number Hanamaki: u’ve seen his hands right >>: bye Hanamaki: cool i’ll email u xo

Groaning, you bury your face under the covers. 

—

“I had an idea. A really dumb idea, actually. It’s kind of Makki’s fault, but—“

Matsukawa looks up from where he’s pouring a glass of water, brows furrowing. 

“—and honestly just feel free to say no and forget this ever happened—“

He blinks, putting down the cup and leaning against the counter, crossing his arms as he waits for you to fumble through this never ending lead up to a question that’s been eating at the back of your mind all week. 

“Can you uh…could you maybe…”

Matsukawa moves a little closer to you, leaning in, as if his proximity is going to help encourage you to drag the rest of the words from where they’re clinging to the backs of your teeth. 

“CouldyoufingermeinaplatonicwaysoIcanfigureoutifI’mjustbrokenorsomething.”

You say it all in a single breath. 

Matsukawa chokes. 

“You think you’re the problem?” he asks, taken aback. 

“I mean, yeah? If it’s supposed to feel good, and it doesn’t for me, then maybe I—“

“Go put on something that makes you feel sexy,” he interrupts you calmly.

Your heart lurches in your chest. “What? Right now!?” you squeak. 

Matsukawa walks over to the kitchen sink, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he slowly presses down the pump on the foaming soap and thoroughly washes his hands. 

You’re not sure how or why that sight alone already leaves your throat dry. 

He nods. “Put on whatever makes you feel good. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. We’re not going anywhere. And then go in my bedroom, lay down in my bed, and text me when you’re ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, you find yourself on your stomach in Matsukawa’s bed, legs idly kicking in the air to expel the nervous energy simmering in your gut. 

And while it was borderline mortifying trying to pick out something “sexy�� to wear before tiptoeing into his bedroom, you realize why he said it now as you hit send on a message that simply reads “Ready.”

Because now that you’re lying here in a short, pleated skirt that’s lived in the back of your closet for years, thigh high socks, a delicate, lacy bralette that you’ve yet to find a reason to wear, and a thong with a little pink bow nestled just above your ass—

Now that you’re wrapped up in the familiar scent of Matsukawa’s body wash in a way that’s far more intimate than stealing his clothes or falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch—

Now that you know he’s seconds away from seeing you like this in his bed, from slipping his fingers beneath your skirt—

Well, you can already feel it—the slick, sticky arousal soaking its way into your panties. 

“Wow,” Matsukawa murmurs as he walks in, striding over to the foot of the bed. “Nice socks.”

You go to roll over, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious, and he shakes his head. “No, stay like that.”

Turning back onto your stomach, you push your phone aside, hugging one of his pillows to your face—though you almost regret it when you subsequently end up burying your nose in the warm and admittedly dizzying scent of him once more. Meanwhile, you feel the mattress dip as he climbs atop it. 

“If at any point you want me to stop, let me know, okay?”

You nod, and he slowly starts to run his hands up the backs of your thighs, stopping just shy of the hem of your skirt. 

“Didn’t you wear this to that costume party at Oikawa’s a few years ago?”

The first and only time you wore it, given how its meager length leaves almost nothing to the imagination. 

“Yeah,” you laugh, though it’s a little weak, given the way he’s now rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs against the inside of your thighs. 

Unintentionally, you spread your legs somewhat for him at the sensation, toes curling. He chuckles quietly. 

Matsukawa’s fingers finally slide up your skirt, his large hands resting on either of your ass cheeks. You try to fight the sudden urge to arch your spine into his touch. 

“Is this still okay?”

You nod, and he squeezes. 

A moan slips out past your lips before you can stop it. 

“Oh,” you breathe out, fingers grasping his silky dark green sheets for purchase as he begins to massage the globes of your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks. 

He squeezes a little harder, and there’s a euphoric release of tension that seeps through your muscles.

“So good,” you mumble, face pressed sideways against his pillow. Which you may or may not have drooled on. 

Cool air licks and settles against your backside as Matsukawa grasps your skirt and pushes it out of the way. Your thong tightens against your skin with tension for a moment, snapping back lightly once he lets it go.

Sliding his palm down the center of your ass, he brings his hand back to your thighs and stretches his fingers outward, effectively spreading your legs further. You inhale, toes pressing down into the mattress at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, do you want me to take these off?” he pauses, idly toying with the string of your thong. 

And while it would certainly be easier, there’s something about the evidence of your arousal soaking into the material, something about the way the lace tugs against your skin—

You shake your head. 

“Good, the bow is cute.”

He runs a finger over the delicate piece of ribbon, and you’re thankful he can’t see the embarrassing way you swallow in response. 

“Is flattery a part of the process?” you ask. 

You can almost hear the grin on his face as he slowly feathers a finger against the wet spot on your panties and replies, “Is it not working?”

“You’re terrible,” you laugh, despite the shiver that runs through you. 

“Save your breath.”

You turn slightly to look back at him, brows furrowed. “For wha—“

Your words are cut off by the moan that crawls up your throat without warning as the pad of Matsukawa’s middle finger suddenly slides down the length of your creamy slit. 

It catches you off guard, how good that little bit of contact feels. How sensitive you are for him. How—

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re wet,” he murmurs, one digit now circling around the rim of your puffy, fluttering entrance while another long finger draws through your folds once more. 

He’s hardly doing anything, and it already sounds obscene. 

Your chest burns, and your heart thunders in your chest as you find yourself arching your ass up off of the bed. The skirt flops back down over your backside in the process, and Matsukawa’s quick to push it back out of the way, his large hand pressing into the small of your back. 

The pillow case grows more damp against your cheek as you quietly pant against it. 

“Matsukawa,” you whine, hips pressing backward again as he ghosts a finger over your swollen clit before dragging two digits back through your folds. Your cunt aches. 

“You have to tell me if you don’t like how it feels, okay?”

He runs his thumb across your dripping hole. 

“Matsukawa,” you gasp again, one hand tightly grasping the top edge of the mattress. 

“Just tell me to stop, and I will,” he promises, slipping the tip of a finger into your entrance. Barely past the fingernail. 

“Issei, please,” you nearly sob, spreading your legs even further for him. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

He lets out a noisy, rough exhale. One that’s a stark contrast to his easy, syrupy tone. 

But you can hardly hear it as he slides his finger into your cunt, not stopping until he’s at the last knuckle. 

You can hardly hear it over the desperate, needy moan that he drags out of you on one finger alone. 

Matsukawa takes his time exploring your tight inner walls, alternating between pumping his finger in and out while you keen for him and keeping it lodged inside as he curls and strokes your wet channel. 

It’s never felt like this. 

Not with anyone. 

Not even with your own fingers. 

But this—

It feels like you’re burning from the inside out, like your nerves are on the verge of going up in flames. 

It’s just one long, deft finger sliding in and out of the eager, needy grip of your pussy. Your tight, soaking wet pussy that’s nowhere near full enough yet still pulsing and dripping with pleasure all the same. 

It’s just a single finger, and yet your voice is going hoarse from the moans tumbling from your lips, the repeated whimpers of Matsukawa’s name as your sticky arousal slides down the palm of his hand. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, voice a little rougher than it was before. 

“I’m probably making a mess all over your bed,” you mutter against the pillow. 

“Good,” you swear you hear him breathe out before he asks, “Still overrated?” His free hand slides beneath the waistband of your thong,  wrapping around your hip bone. 

“It’s never, I’ve never—“ you gasp. 

“Because you sleep with guys who do it for themselves, who see it as a necessity to getting their dick inside of you,” Matsukawa replies in a calm tone that’s a stark contrast to the way you’re unravelling beneath him. “I just want you to feel good. This isn’t about me.”

And you’ve also never been fingered like this—face down, prone. With your pebbled nipples rubbing against your lace bralette and a too-short skirt rucked up around your waist. In a sopping wet thong that keeps rubbing against your clit every time Matsukawa nudges it out of the way, with thigh high socks that continue to slip down lower and lower as you writhe in pleasure against the mattress. 

You’ve never been fingered by Matsukawa Issei. Your roommate and your best friend who’s a little too handsome for his own good. Who you’ve had more wet dreams about than you can count. 

Matsukawa Issei and his stupidly long, dexterous fingers. Two of which are now stuffed in your tight hole, massaging your inner walls while you drool on his pillow like it’s his cock that’s stuffed inside of you instead. 

Matsukawa Issei, who’s somehow on the verge of making you forget every dick you’ve ever had inside of you by fucking you with his fingers and his fingers alone. 

“Don’t flatter me that much yet, not till I make you come,” he murmurs, stroking your throbbing clit. 

And oh—you fucking said that last bit out loud. 

Not that you can bring yourself to care when the coil of heat in your gut is wrapped so tight you can hardly breathe. Every muscle in your body tenses under the liquid pleasure that sears its way down your spine with a bite that has you trembling, sheets slipping beneath the feeble grasp of your shaking hands. 

You end up pushing yourself onto your knees as Matsukawa purposely slows his pace, like he’s not ready for you to come yet. Like he wants to edge you until the whole goddamn mattress is soaked.

“Issei,” you whimper in a small, breathless voice that you can hardly believe is your own. 

And suddenly you find yourself being tugged backwards into his lap, your legs spread, your back to his chest. You barely have time to marvel over the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your ass through his pants, not when his lips ghost against the shell of your ear before he rests his chin against your shoulder. 

Matsukawa slides his fingers back inside of you, and you moan at the angle, at the way his mouth ends up tucked into the crook of your neck when you roll your hips into his touch. His lips are hot against your skin as he traces the column of your neck, cunt squelching wetly while your pussy greedily takes in the stretch of his digits over and over. 

And then he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, biting and sucking at the sensitive spot while your cunt throbs, as you shake with a full-body shiver, as the damn of pleasure inside of you snaps and overflows with an orgasm that leaves tears in your eyes as you sob his name. 

Matsukawa tilts your chin and finds your mouth with his, claiming your lips in a messy, spit-soaked kiss as you ride out your climax. 

It’s only once you stop shuddering in pleasure that you remember how hard he felt beneath you, and you go to slip a hand between your bodies—

“It’s okay,” he exhales, sounding just as out of breath as you feel.

“You don’t want me to—“ You try not to sound as disappointed as you feel over his sudden rejection.

His eyes go a little wide. “No, no. No, it’s that. I just…uh…I already…”

You blink at him. “I didn’t think that was actually a thing that happens.”

Did he really just come in his—

Matsukawa rubs the back of his neck, biting his bottom lip. “It’s never happened to me before, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh?”

For some reason, you feel more than a little smug at these words.

“First time for everything I guess,” he grins.

“Overrated?” you ask coyly, warmth swelling in your chest.

Matsukawa shakes his head, lips brushing against yours when he leans in and murmurs against your mouth, “Definitely not.”

[slytherinshua]

BOYNEXTDOOR AND KISSES

genre. fluff. warnings. a lot of kisses. maybe slightly suggestive in sungho's. not proofread. pairing. ot6 boynextdoor x reader. wc. 830. (around 140 per member) request. no. a/n. i have so many requests to finish rn but the brainrot was too strong for this one... net. @onedoornet

PARK SUNGHO ﾐ 박성호

this romantic ass man… forehead kisses ughhhh. before he leaves for work, after he comes back, in the morning when you wake up, at night before you fall asleep, you name it. neverending forehead kisses, and they’re always so delicate and soft. chivalry isn’t dead because park sungho is still alive!!! when he kisses you on the lips, it’s either a very short peck because he’s in a rush or he makes it last a long time when he’s free to do so. and he loves to take his time. unless you get more desperate first, sungho could easily kiss you for minutes at a time, feeling your soft lips against his even without any tongue. he’d definitely hold your waist as he kisses you, or even your jaw, tilting your head up gently so he has the best access.

LEE SANGHYEOK ﾐ 이상혁

this cinnamon roll is such a kisses stan. he could be having the worst day ever, but 1 kiss from you suddenly changes everything. he’s honestly addicted, almost as much as his donut addiction. but he’s too shy to ask for kisses most days (unless he’s desperate beyond belief), so he’d stare at you until you take the hint. literally happiest man alive after he’s received kisses, it’s so freaking obvious that the other members just know after a while. he loves when you pepper his entire face with kisses, and of course, he would return the favour. you have a habit of kissing his cheek or top of his head while he’s distracted just scrolling on his phone. he’ll look up at you like you hung the moon in the sky, silently asking for more with just his gaze.

MYUNG JAEHYUN ﾐ 명재현

jaehyun is so playful when it comes to kisses. he’ll tease you with just a short peck or pull away too fast for your liking, just to have you pulling him back in for more. he knows that once he starts kissing you, you’ll never get enough of it, and he uses this to get a flustered reaction out of you. once he’s giggled and cooed over how cute you are, he will kiss you properly just like you want, savouring the taste of your lips desperately just like you do as well. if he’s just cuddling with you or low energy after a long day, he likes to kiss your neck. it’s relaxing for him to just press small kisses on the skin there, smelling your perfume and letting it soothe him completely.

HAN DONGMIN ﾐ 한동민

he’s such an introverted and private man, so the only time he’s kissing you is probably behind closed doors skskjs. listen, he’s not willing to run the risk of possibly giving the members something to tease him about for eternity. plus, he’s so romantic with you, but he wants only you to see that side of him. hence, most of the time he kisses you after he’s home from work. he loves to nuzzle his nose against yours, softly giggling amidst kisses with you. it’s so intimate to just hold you close, alternating between soft short kisses and talking. he’ll ask you about your day while he kisses you, leaving you to have to answer him with each word being interrupted by another quick kiss. he’s truly so down bad for you, giggling like a lovesick puppy as he tastes your lips.

KIM DONGHYUN ﾐ 김동현

leehan is a firm believer that kisses are just as essential as food and water. he will not leave the house without getting his kiss goodbye. he also does an overdramatic “mwah!” whenever he kisses you, laughing if you get embarrassed or roll your eyes at it. or he’d ask you to kiss him, only to jerk his head back when you try to, teasing you by the fact that he’s taller and you can’t reach. he’s so cheesy, but he’s so good at kissing in reality that it drives you insane. whenever he’s actually being serious instead of goofy, his kisses are so passionate that your brain will turn to tv static. and he probably uses a really nice flavour of lip balm too, just to make his lips more inviting, so that you’ll kiss him more.

KIM WOONHAK ﾐ 김운학

give this boy his kisses and give him lots because otherwise he’ll feel robbed and start complaining and/or get pouty. if you ever refuse to give him a kiss, even if you’re just teasing, he’ll probably think this is the end of the relationship. he’s just so cute and simple. kisses = happy woonhak. no kisses = sad woonhak. he loves nose kisses or any light kiss around his face that tickles. he’s probably way too shy to even hold a kiss on the lips for very long. he tries, but he honestly just gets so flustered from it after a few seconds that he has to pull away. he’s definitely not the best kisser, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. you can tell he’s absolutely obsessed with you and your lips.

↳ boynextdoor taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,,

@schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @blossominghunnie,,

@kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3,, @lovialy,, @lecheugo,, @okshu,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,,

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@hrtsvivis,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @kristianities

[fluentmoviequoter]

I'm Closer

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: During a string of break-ins in your neighborhood, you have to stay home alone while Tim works a night shift. When the intruder gets close to you, you remember Tim is always closer.

Warnings: depictions of breaking and entering, anxiety/fear, vague threat, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

When Tim returns home, you’re sitting in the corner of the couch with your knees pulled up towards your chest as you type on your phone. He sighs and locks the door behind him.

“Where?” he asks, moving to stand behind you before he lays his hands on your shoulders.

“Two streets over,” you answer. “The Clarksons.”

You click the power button and toss your phone aside before you stand on the couch. Tim’s hands fall to your hips as he tilts his head back to look at you.

“How many is that?” you ask softly.

“Fifteen,” he replies. “There was one yesterday afternoon, we were investigating it all morning. Seven detectives and not a single lead between them.”

Leaning forward, you place your hands on Tim’s shoulders. He lifts your hips and pulls you carefully over the back of the couch. Before your feet touch the ground, you move your arms around Tim’s shoulders and hug him tightly.

“What if we’re next?” you ask against his neck.

Tim doesn’t answer right away, opting to tighten his grip on you as he moves one hand to smooth over the back of your head. He understands your concern. You have both been on edge since the second reported robbery. Fifteen break-ins in your neighborhood in less than three weeks is more than enough cause for concern. Each report makes Tim more eager to get the thief in cuffs but simultaneously discourages him from leaving you home alone. You’ve been triple-checking locks even when he is home, so he can’t imagine the weight you’re carrying when he’s gone.

“I’ve been driving by every few hours,” Tim tells you. “And Wade has patrol officers all over this area. We’re going to catch him.”

You nod against Tim. You desperately want to believe him but refuse to let your guard down. Tim mumbles something against your hair, and you pull back just enough to tilt your chin up.

He sighs, then says, “I have to work the night shift tomorrow. If you want to go stay somewhere else, I get it.”

You shake your head and take Tim’s hand, leading him toward your bedroom. “There really haven’t been any leads? Not even what kind of house they’re targeting or anything?”

“Nothing,” Tim laments. “Whoever this is, they don’t seem to be picky.”

“Comforting.”

Tim chuckles at your tone, then wraps his arms around you again. You never feel safer than when you’re in Tim’s arms. Neither of you are the kind of person to run from a fight, so you will stay in your home tomorrow, alone, and trust Tim and his fellow officers to find the bad guy before anything else happens.

“I could ask Smitty to park his car in the driveway for his hourly naps, try to scare anyone off with the sight of a police car coming and going,” Tim suggests.

“That would work great until they see the donut-hungover cop in it,” you joke.

“Call me tomorrow night, okay? For anything.”

“I will,” you promise. “I love you, Tim.”

The following night, after you kiss Tim goodbye and promise again to call him if you need something and to check in often, you walk into the kitchen and begin cooking yourself dinner. You aren’t hungry, you're too concerned with checking each car that drives by the window and ensuring no one can see inside the house. You walk through the house and check the locks as your food cooks. Everything is fine, you remind yourself as you carry your food to the couch. You turn on the television, hoping it will serve as a welcome distraction until you’re ready for bed.

Tim looks away from the computer monitor before him to check his watch. You’re probably getting ready for bed, and your last update was only a few minutes ago when you said everything was fine and the closest neighbors were home from work.

“Grey,” he calls.

“Two patrol cars are circling now,” Wade answers without looking up from his folder. “Everything’s quiet.”

Tim nods to himself, then clicks his keyboard to resume the security camera footage. Lucy yawns beside him, and Tim resists asking Wade which officers are in your neighborhood. If something were to happen, you’d be more likely to call Tim than dispatch, and he’d like to know who is close.

“She’ll be fine,” Lucy assures him softly.

“She better be,” he responds before watching a man in a bright red tracksuit enter a gas station with a gun in his hand.

You enter the guest room across the hall from your master suite with your phone in your hand to ensure the windows are locked. The windows on this side of your house aren’t very easily accessible, but you check them regardless. In your pajamas and ready for bed, you tug on the window latch and nod when it doesn’t move. Raising your phone, you open your text thread with Tim and begin typing a message. You pause when something makes a scraping noise outside. It goes silent, and several seconds later, you resume typing.

Just before you hit send, a loud pop echoes through the hallway before the undeniable noise of a window sliding open reaches your ears. Two soft footsteps follow soon after, and you begin to panic. You look around for something to defend yourself with, then suddenly remember that Tim told you to take cover first and then defend yourself only if necessary in a situation like this.

The closet door is open, so you grab the nearest object before sliding onto the floor beneath the extra clothes. Carefully, quietly, you pull the door closer to the jamb, then sit back in the dark corner and call Tim.

Tim pauses the surveillance video, zooms in, and gets a clear image of the suspect’s driver’s license as he removes his wallet to pay for a Red Bull. He rolls his eyes at the criminal’s stupidity but mentally thanks him for saving Tim some time finding him. Tim’s phone rings, and Lucy jerks as if she had been asleep.

“Hello?” Tim asks, pushing away from the desk as he waits to hear your voice.

“Tim,” you whisper, clearly panicked.

He stands immediately and lowers his voice to ask, “What’s wrong?”

You take a shaky, shallow breath that tightens Tim’s chest before you say, “Someone’s in the house. I was checking the windows, and then there was a pop in out bedroom I think… Tim, I can hear their footsteps, please come home.”

Tim jumps over the desk he’d been seated at, ignores the calls of his coworkers, and runs through the station to get to his truck. He knows he should alert Grey, dispatch, or anybody, but his thoughts are on getting home and ensuring you’re safe.

“Talk to me,” Tim requests as he slams the door of his truck closed and starts the engine.

“Tim,” you whimper, clutching your phone as your hands shake. “I think they’re going down the hall.”

“I’m on my way,” he promises. The radio in his truck lights up, and he hopes someone saw something and the officers in your neighborhood are on their way.

You murmur something that Tim can’t decipher but remain silent when he asks you to repeat yourself. The truck’s transmission revs as he presses the accelerator to the floor, fighting to keep his mind away from the worst-case scenario. As he turns onto your street, setting a new record for how fast the commute has ever been driven, Tim slams the gearshift into park several houses down. He leaves the truck running with the door open as he runs down the street and unlocks a side entrance to enter.

“I’m here,” he whispers to you before entering the house. He puts his phone in his pocket and raises his gun as he moves carefully through the house. You’re hiding somewhere but thought the unwelcomed visitor was coming toward the main part of the house. A door clicks somewhere down the hall, and Tim abandons his goal of clearing the kitchen to find you.

In the guestroom closet, you hold your phone to your ear with one hand while pressing the other to your mouth to muffle your breathing. The door into the bedroom clicks as it is pushed open farther, and you push yourself against the wall behind you. Tim is in the house somewhere, but your mind is racing with panic and fear. You peek through the gap in the door and see a masked intruder moving carefully through the room. Suddenly, he turns toward the closet, and you close your eyes.

Tim looks into your bedroom, where the window latch has been blown off by a small explosive device, but sees no evidence of anyone currently inside. The door across the hall, however, stands wide open. With his gun ready, Tim crosses the hall and presses his back to the wall before stepping inside.

“LAPD, stop where you are,” he demands.

The masked man stops, halfway between Tim and the closet. Tim sees the closet door isn’t completely closed and wonders if that’s where you are. Sirens sound outside, and Tim takes another step into the room.

“Hands up,” he instructs. “Interlace your fingers and place them behind your head.”

“You’re too late,” the man taunts.

Tim ignores him, and how his stomach rolls at the idea that anything could have happened to you while his phone was in his pocket. “Kneel.” Once the man is on the ground, an officer announces his presence downstairs, and Tim shoves the man unceremoniously toward the hallway and yells his location and that there is one in custody.

Then, Tim abandons his duty to keep the suspect secure as he turns toward you. He opens the closet door carefully, then drops to his knees. When you see him, you lower your phone and reach for Tim. He takes your hands and pulls you closer, whispering promises that you’re safe and he will never put you in this position again.

“When I said to always have something to protect yourself, I meant something a bit more substantial than a bowl,” Tim says, reaching for the jewelry tray you grabbed before hiding.

“It’s heavy,” you defend weakly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You’re here now.”

Tim pulls you closer, blocking out the noise of the officers apprehending the intruder, and your adrenaline wears off as you realize you can feel safe at home again.

“How did you get here so fast?” you ask as Tim helps you stand.

“Don’t tell Wade but I broke a few laws.”

You laugh and then furrow your brows. “How did he get in?”

“Right,” Tim remembers. “We need a new window.”

“He was really close,” you murmur.

Tim gently holds your chin as he kisses your forehead. “I’m closer,” he vows before cupping your cheeks and kissing you.

[wandasaura]

CAN NEVER BE TOO THOROUGH

summary — after getting injured in pursuit of a suspect, olivia insists that she check you out too

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, dom!olivia benson, praise kink, name calling, pet names, office sex, public sex, fingering, clit stimulation, brief thigh riding, teasing, slight humiliation, hair pulling, biting, licking, finger sucking, implied oral fixation, captain kink, begging, slapping, crying, brief mention of injury, inspection kink, slight orgasm edging/control, men/minors dni

authors note — olivia benson returns and so does the smut. i don’t even know what to say anymore, im on a rampage, truly

“I’ll see you later!” Fin laughed, waving over his shoulder as he finally left for the night. But, before you could do the same, you were being beckoned to the Captain's office, Olivia’s brooding expression drawing you in from the doorway where ambient light spilled over her leather shoes. Fin shook his head at the door, hearing the very beginning of Olivia’s command, and knowing what it would entail for you. Or at least, some of it.

“Detective!” Benson’s voice boomed, sudden and unexpected in the relatively quiet precinct. Rollins and Carisi had already gone home, the latter coming by to pick up the former because apparently they had dinner reservations uptown. Fin just left, taking a single donut from the break room with him — even though it had become stale yesterday afternoon, and was beyond the point of redeeming itself even with its rainbow sprinkles — and Kat, well, you just hadn’t seen her in a while. So, that left only you around to hear Olivia’s instruction. “My office.” She gave a pointed click of the tongue, but you would’ve complied anyways. It had been a long handful of hours since the last time you’d been able to get your hands on her.

You kicked your desk chair back into place, not worried about the cluttered highlighters on your desk, all of their caps switched to the wrong colors, a lovely gift from Fin who’d apparently never learned to appropriately channel his boredom during Benson’s lectures. You, on the other hand, had been blind to it happening at all, too caught up in a fantasy of her taking you over the desk. Again. Amanda had known what you were thinking of, you’d been her friend before you’d been the Captains girlfriend, and she’d batted your thigh in disgust — though she’s definitely going to be texting you later, asking if anything came from your hormonal fantasy.

Olivia stepped back into the room when she was sure that you were coming, following her directions the way she knew (and expected) you could. You closed the door behind you when you stepped inside, and before the latch could fully click against metal, her body backed you up until cold pine sent shivers down your spine.

Your palms splayed across the sleek wood, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you stared up into her hazy chocolate eyes. You could trace endless constellations in her gaze when the sun hits her pupils the right way, but what you’ve really come to love is how lust creates a whirlpool until all that remains is black pupils outlined by enchanting golden rings. Her hand inches up, and you think she might touch your face, might pull you in for a kiss — the first kiss you’ll share since six o’clock that morning — but instead she closes the blinds and lets her exhale ghost across your jawline.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded breathlessly, already craving her touch on your body that had taken a hit in pursuit. You’d been out of the precinct for nearly two hours, holed up at Mercy getting assessed before 1PP called you in and tried to scramble your brain until you admitted trauma — when nothing came from the forty minute interrogation framed as a therapy session, they begrudgingly released you back to Olivia who had been swept away by a hit you’ d been desperately chasing. To say you needed a remedy for the emotional toll of your day couldn’t compare to the weight of what you needed. The first thing on that list was admittedly to get Olivia in bed though. Her office just couldn't hold a scene the way you needed it to.

“Is that how you ask for something?” Olivia seethed, her teeth grinding together as her jaw became a firm line of structure. You swallowed thickly, arousal disturbing the delicate tendons in your thighs. The small quiver in your knees, you hope is unnoticeable, but Olivia smirks, her eyes jutting down to see your thighs squeezing together now, no longer just twitching for contact and pleasure. You thought you might’ve gotten away with your lust-drunk plea, but then a hand tangled into your hair and yanked your head back until you could see the tiles on your ceilings. That sight was covered by your eyelids, a heavy sigh sinking off of your lips.

“Kiss me, please, Liv.” You pleaded, your head still tilted upward, her tight grip not allowing any sort of tension to loosen. The strain in your neck and sting against your scalp was pleasant, familiar; far better than being slammed into the concrete by a six foot jackass with a warrant. “Baby, please, I need you to kiss me.” You arched your head, forcing her grip to give, to let you move until you could inch your lips just the slightest bit closer, and Olivia almost let you get away with it, but just before your lips could touch hers, she tightened her fist and slammed you back against the door, her chest now keeping you flush between herself and the door. No escape.

“Where are we?” She inquires, her gaze piercing, unforgiving as it unravels you, pulls you apart until you’re just clumps of nerves beneath her electrified touch.

“Your office.” The words are thick, heavy, breathy, and they fan across Olivia’s chin as you drop your gaze to her breasts, the tanned skin peeking out from the unbuttoned top she’d picked out from the closet that morning.

“My office. Good girl.” Olivia praised, leaning in close so that she could crane her face into your neck, biting down sweetly onto your shoulder before she soothed the indentations of her teeth with her hot tongue. Her warmth was welcomed, a deterrent to the cold that claims your fingertips. “And what’s my name when we’re in my office, hm? I know it’s in there. In that pretty head. I haven’t broken you yet, sweetheart.” She teases, her mouth moving up your neck, open kisses dampening your skin until you’re not sure what's damper, the trail she’s paved toward your earlobe that she claims between her teeth, or your thighs that tremble and quiver, unable to pinch together tight enough to give you any kind of release.

“Captain.” You sigh, moaning gently when she tugs your earlobe, her tongue swirling around the diamond studs she’d gifted you for your second anniversary.

“Mhm, and a Captain has to make sure her detectives are capable of doing this job.” Olivia mused, trailing her lips against your cheek until the edge of her smirk touched your pout.

“I was already cleared.” You tried to excuse, but then her lips captured yours, and it didn’t matter that you’d already signed endless paperwork, been fondled by exploring hands, and had your blood drawn unnecessarily.

Another gasp crawled up your throat when her knee pressed between your legs, the warmth of your core spreading against her thigh. It only took a moment for your hips to seek friction, rotating back and forth with the structure of the door as leverage to keep you both upright. Olivia’s hands framed your face on either side of the door before she caught your jaw in a bruising grip, the fingers of her left hand making a tantalizing trail to the waistband of your slacks.

“Oh, but sweetheart, they might’ve missed something. Just let me check, yeah?” She breaths against your lips, and you can only agree when her hand finds your core between her pants and yours, her thumb seeking to fiddle with the pulsating nerve beneath her touch. “Gonna let me check, baby? Need words from you.”

“Yes.” You sighed, your head throwing itself back onto the door when her fingers undid the sterling silver button and snaked inside of your panties, stopping right before your clit. Her forefinger and middle circled your pleading bud cruelly, only securing whatever dampness was within reach and not exploring your clenching hole that yearns for her fingers, or her strap, or her tongue.

“Yes, what?” Olivia huffed, yanking your hair again until your eyes met her, wide and glassy as you tried to move your hips into the palm of her hand. Olivia tsk’d at that, the hand in your hair disappearing to instead slap your clothed thigh.

”Yes, you can check, Captain. Please.” You cried out, tears of desperation leaking from your eyes. It was so easy. You were so easy.

“You’re so pretty like this. Begging your Captain to check you, to make sure you’re alright. So easy for me, sweetheart. I barely have to put up a fight.” She teased, her tone condescending and light, concealed with gentleness that had you gasping when her fingers began to explore your folds, sweeping through the collection of wetness until she found the spot the caused it all. “Oh, what’s this. My pretty little pussy is absolutely dripping. Does this hurt, sweetheart?” Olivia knew what she was doing as she eased a single finger into your cunt up to the second knuckle.

You gasped breathily, your back arching off the door and as far into her chest as it was able.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” Olivia snapped her wrist, and suddenly that finger was probing the sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars. Another finger was added, two thick digits stretching you out, the metal of her rings so aggravatingly hitting the sensitive skin beside your clit but never direct contact.

“N-No.” You whimpered, tears still leaking down your face, glittering rivers of pent up emotion visible in your single glance. “Please.”

Olivia only hummed, ignoring your pleading, your begging, the squelch of your juices as she scissored your cunt, fingering your hole open until her palm was slick with arousal. Her touches were incessant, practiced and experienced, but it brought you no closer to the peak of pleasure you so desperately wanted to find.

Instead, she pulled her fingers out, trailing her touch along your lips again. You whined, unable to help herself, and Olivia shut you up with a blinding kiss, her teeth digging into your lip until you yelped pathetically. “Be quiet.” She instructed, her fingers slipping through your folds, so close, so close, oh god. “Oh, does that hurt? That was a pretty sound, darling. You only make that sound when something hurts. Come on, be honest with your Captain.”

“Please.” You broke, your eyes glimmering with pearly iridescent tears and your lips trembling.

“Please, what? Come on, I know you can tell me.” She encouraged, her fingers still working your clit, still teasing your senses.

“Please, it hurts! It hurts, please fix it. Captain, please, I need you.” You sobbed, chasing Olivia’s lips, but she pulled away from you entirely, her hand leaving your pants, your face, your hair. That heavy pressure was replaced with fingers pressing against your lips, an order already at the forefront of her tongue.

“Clean me up.” You didn’t need to be told twice, eagerly accepting her fingers into your mouth, the weight of her digits familiar and comforting even with the throb between your legs. “Good girl.” She praised, pulling her fingers from your lips only when your dutiful licking and suckling became impatient nipping, trying to lure her back in. “Pack up your desk. We’re going home.” She informed, kissing you sweetly as her fingers buttoned your pants, her fingers trailing over your cunt just to smile teasingly as your hips jolted.

Olivia didn’t have to tell you twice. You dont think you’ll even survive the walk back.

[seongwars]

bad habit

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: SMUT (18+) baby daddy!Caleb he toxic, you toxic, we all toxic! mentions of accidental pregnancy, baby trapping, p in v, wrap it before you tap it kids, emotional manipulation, cheating, tiddies, swearing, not really proofread oops Summary: what could go wrong when you drop your daughter off at her dad's?

A/N: ahahaha....yeah.

Masterlist | Tip Jar

You opened the front door just as Caleb’s Lamborghini pulled up. The engine had barely cut before he stepped out, lifting Lyra from the back seat in his signature gray sweatpants. The ones you used to steal for bed because they were soft and roomy. The ones that outlined his third leg that had you drooling into the pillow when he took you from behind. 

And the cologne? The one that used to bring you to your knees? It hit you before he even reached the porch: warm, woodsy, with that hint of sweetness underneath.

You hated how your body still recognized it.

“Morning,” he said with that lazy grin, the one that meant trouble.

“It’s 3 PM.”

He shrugged, setting Lyra down. “Afternoon, then.”

She immediately ran to you, and threw arms around your legs. “Daddy let me eat a whole donut!”

“Did he now?”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said, hands shoved into his pockets, “I balanced it out with organic apple slices.”

You met Caleb in college through your friend Zayne. At the time, you were deep into your studies, spending late nights hunched over textbooks, juggling clinical rotations and barely enough sleep to function. Caleb was your polar opposite: a frat boy with lofty dreams of becoming a pilot.

What you didn’t know was that Caleb had noticed you long before that first introduction. He’d asked Zayne about you, watched for you on campus, and memorized your schedule. Before long, he was trailing you, orchestrating run ins and brushing them off as coincidence.

Despite the differences, something about his boyishness drew you in. He was sweet. Thoughtful. Always showing up with your favorite coffee like he’d read your mind, offering you his hoodie when it got cold, texting reminders to eat when he knew you were pulling all-nighters. You chalked it up to young love.

Then you found out you were pregnant.

You’d both been careful. Religiously so. But birth control failed you, and suddenly everything changed.

Caleb had pretended to be shocked. He stammered through questions, like the news had knocked the wind out of him. But deep down, he was thrilled. Triumphant. Like the universe had handed him exactly what he needed to keep you tethered to him. 

Before the end of your first trimester, he was already coming up with baby names, borrowing prenatal books from the library and picking out nursery colors.

He convinced you to give your little family a shot.

And for a while it worked.

But old habits die hard. Caleb was addicted to adrenaline and the freedom of the skies, always off on assignment or with his friends. He’d return after long absences with grand gestures, overcompensating in ways that only made you feel more alone. Like a single parent playing house with someone who showed up only when it was convenient.

In the end, you were the one who ended the relationship. You told Caleb that Lyra deserved more stability than the two of you could offer as things stood. If he wanted to be part of her life, something had to change. You gave him a choice: co-parent on your terms or risk losing both of you for good.

Caleb agreed, saying all the right things and promising to do better for your daughter. And he did. As soon as Lyra could walk, he started taking her to enrichment activities, showed up to school functions and even rearranged his assignments to stay closer. His social media was curated with moments of fatherhood designed to prove just how devoted he was.

But even after four years apart, he kept tabs on your every move using your daughter as a reason to keep his foot in the door of your life.

Because two things were clear in his mind: one, you would never take his daughter away from him, and two, you were his forever, whether you liked it or not.

You cleared your throat and grabbed Lyra’s backpack. “Hey, would you be able to take her an extra day this week?”

“Yeah? You got plans?”

“Science symposium on Wednesday night. I’m on the panel.”

Which was true. Mostly. You just didn’t mention the reception after. Or the dress you hadn’t worn since pre-Lyra. Or the plans you had with your boyfriend. 

“Love?” Zayne’s voice floated from inside the house. “Do you want me to start dinner—Oof!”

Lyra barreled into him before he could finish, wrapping her arms around his legs with a squeal of laughter. 

“Uncle Zayne! I saw the dino at the museum!” she beamed, bouncing on her toes. “The big one with the long neck! Brachiosaurus!”

He gave her an exaggerated gasp of admiration that made her giggle.

Zayne had been your friend first at university, just two nerds bonded by matching caffeine addictions and mutual exam anxiety. He was the one who introduced you to Caleb but moved away for his residence, and life naturally pulled you in different directions. 

But then you ran into him at a medical conference and suddenly it felt like no time had passed at all. He’d just returned to Linkon, now a cardiac surgeon at Akso Hospital. One coffee run turned into late night texts and somehow, he had reentered your life, this time again as your boyfriend.

Caleb clenched his jaw as he watched the scene unfold. Lyra had always been a sweet little girl but sometimes, she was a little too friendly for his comfort. Especially now, clinging to Zayne like that.

“Sure,” he said, a little too quickly. “Yeah. I can take her.”

Co-parenting with Caleb had been smoother than you expected and you told yourself it was all for Lyra, and mostly, it was. But there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go. 

Which is how you ended up pinned against the wall on Wednesday, an hour before your panel, with Caleb’s cock sliding in and out of your sopping cunt.

You were just dropping Lyra off on your way to the symposium hoping for a quick goodbye and a gentle reminder for your daughter to be good. But then Caleb opened the door completely shirtless with nothing but sweats on.

“You dressed up for me?” he asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s for the symposium.”

He tilted his head, gaze dropping to the deep neckline of your dress then back up.

“We’ll see how far that dress gets you.”

“Pretty far,” you shot back. “Starting with away from here.”

“Hey, Bug,” Caleb called over his shoulder, tone softening. “Why don’t you head inside and pick a movie? I’ll be right there.”

Lyra nodded leaving the door ajar behind her. He stepped closer, closing the distance, and your eyes dropped straight to the expanse of his chest, right to those perfect pecs you loved taking a bite out of. 

“Yeah? Where you gonna go? To your little boyfriend? Last time you looked at me like that, you ended up bent over the counter.”

“Asshole,” you muttered, but didn’t step back. 

He leaned in, lifting the hem of your dress. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole.”

You knew he was challenging you. And maybe you’d already accepted it the moment you engaged with him. The thought of him waiting, imagining what was under your dress, had already started undoing you before he even touched you.

His fingers glide up your thigh before hooking your lace panties to the side. The tip of his clothed cock brushed against you and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you as he toyed with your slit.

“I’m going to be l-late!”

“Then you better cum quick.” 

His lips brushed along your jaw as he pulled the strap of your dress down, cupping your breast with his other hand. You hated how easily he got under your skin. You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes rolled back as he pushed between your folds, making your cunt flutter and drawing out choked sobs from the sheer size of him. 

It was a habit. A bad one. You had no business being here, like this, especially not now. Not when you had someone else. Someone kind, sweet, and good. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d fallen into this dance with your ex. And deep down, you weren’t sure it would be the last. Because the lies and guilt didn’t matter when Caleb had his hands on you.

“Look at the mess you’re making,” he growled, gripping your jaw and tilting your face down to where your arousal coated his shaft, the thick, creamy ring forming at the base.

“Squeezin’ me like this. This what you wanted, huh? He’s not fucking you right, is he?”

“N-No,” you whimpered, shaking your head. 

Caleb grinned before crashing his lips against yours, swallowing your moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. You were breathless, chest heaving as his tongue dragged along your bottom lip before his teeth caught it in a teasing bite.

“You’re mine. Always mine.” 

You felt it in the way he moved. Every thrust was a punishment, a reminder that you could never truly leave him. Coherent thought vanished, replaced by the overwhelming way he filled you and you could only ground your hips harder against him. Caleb met you without hesitation, thrusting up, deeper and rougher, like he knew exactly what you needed and refused to give you anything less.

“Miss this pussy so much, shit…” he gritted out, eyes squeezing shut as he fought against the surge of release threatening to take over. 

You could tell he was trying hard to keep his shit together. You wanted him to come undone, and so you did the only thing that came to mind: you pushed your hips forward, clenched your pussy muscles and latched your lips around one of his nipples. 

If Caleb needed to remind you that you were his, then this was your reminder that you could ruin him just as easily. The groan that rumbled through his chest was animalistic and going without your pussy for weeks made him sensitive. Now that he has it wrapped around him he could hardly stand it.

“B-Baby fuuuck,” he moaned, then suddenly his hand was on the back of your head, urging you on as you lapped at his chest. 

His face scrunched up as you gently pinched his nipple between your teeth and you grinned, flicking your tongue over it. There was something addictive about watching him fall apart.

Maybe it was payback for all the nights he left you alone with Lyra, for every bullshit excuse he made up, or for the times he ditched you for his friends. Whatever it was, watching him unravel felt like reclaiming power—messy and petty.

Caleb squirmed and let out a gasp that sounded close to a whimper as you moved to the other one. You gave it a few licks before biting down, eyes fixed on his face through your lashes. His face was flushed red, eyes squeezed shut and mouth slacked.

Seeing him like this had you edging closer yourself, because how could someone look so pretty, all fucked out for you?

“Hnngg gonna cum in you, ‘kay? Gonna come in my pussy, give you another baby hahhh…”

"Caleb-- Caleb oh-- fuck I'm gonna cum!"

With a guttural groan and a stutter of his hips, Caleb flooded your cunt with thick ropes of cum, leaking from your folds and trailing down the backs of your thighs.

One messy, unrelenting thrust later, and the tension coiled in your belly snapped, setting you ablaze. Your toes curled as stars burst behind your eyes, your body trembling uncontrollably as you clung to him like your life depended on it.

Just like he wanted.

Caleb pressed his forehead to yours, then caught your lips in one last, bruising kiss. When he pulled back, he crouched to slide your sticky panties back into place, like he was sending you off with a parting gift. 

One he hoped your perfect, sweet boyfriend and colleagues would notice.

You were a wreck. Sweaty, flushed, makeup smudged, hair a tangled mess around your face as you yanked your dress back down. And you still had to sit on a panel and talk about infectious diseases like you hadn’t just been thoroughly fucked on the front step of your baby daddy’s house.

You wobbled to your feet, trying to piece yourself back together, when Caleb pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.

“Security cam caught the whole thing,” he whistled.

You spun around. “Caleb!”

But he was already strolling inside like he hadn’t just ruined your evening and career in ten minutes. His lips curled into a smirk as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

That footage might come in handy someday.

“Bug! What movie did you pick out? Let’s order pizza!”

taglist: @browneyedgirl22

[nemesyaaa]

favorite crime // psycho!stalker!rafe x innocent!reader

summary ; sometimes being the obsession of someone can turn really bad. sometimes being friend to someone doesn't mean that you really know this person, and mostly, that your kindness will be returned.

warnings : dark content. stalking. manipulation. crimes : murder/kidnapping. smut. sick, poker face, and insane behavior. toxic attitude. innocence kink. violence. dubcon. fear/vulnerability enthousiast. jealousy. dark!mean!rafe. corruption. abuse of power. creepy behavior. minors dni. as always, be careful with the warnings please. don't joke with it.

author's note : i really love how all my concepts with rafe are so fucked up. it's around 2,6k words.

as a shy and innocent girl, too kind for your own good and too sweet to attract nice boys, you had always attracted rafe's attention. especially when you were the pretty employee at his favorite video game store. it was only for you that he spent hours in front of the cash register, trying to get to know you when in reality, he knew you by heart, every detail of your life. he was obsessed with you. he was already terribly sick, diving into your perfect kindness and purity.

you didn't understand why people were afraid of him or said bad things about him because you found him charming and lovely. that was the impression he forced himself to give you. he always had nicknames for you like pumpkin, doll, cupcake, sweet, pretty thing.

the first time he walked into the store, your store manager was yelling at you. and you felt so ashamed and small. there were customers and that made you nervous. you were already crying, impossible to contain your tears in the face of the excess anger you received from this man. it wasn't the first time he did this but maybe the last.

you quickly returned to work, still in tears facing the products on the shelves and the new customer came to you. with a box of donuts. strangely, you didn't know how he could know that you liked it and that it was your favorite. but the attention was touching, more important for you.

“i bought them especially for you. it would hurt my heart if you refused them.”

“you didn’t have to do that.” you replied politely and smiled.

“i know but i wanted to do it. someone has to pay attention to you, and check on your messy health, pumpkin.”

"oh my manager is usually nice. i don't know what's going on."

"you're lying. you're lying because you're too kind to say bad things about people when they're fucking assholes. but don't worry, it won't happen again."

“how can you be sure?”

“enjoy your donuts, don’t think about anything else. let me ease you, pretty thing. ”

the next day, your manager had never been so nice to you. and the other days too. and he always disappeared in rafe's presence. it brought you a lot closer together, because now he came every day. you didn't know if rafe HAD time, or he FOUND it just for you. all you knew was that he made your days in the store so much better.

by coming here, he had become a loyal customer but also someone you could talk to, and he pretended not to know every moment of your private life while he spied on you as soon as he left the store.

he could stay in his car for hours until you finished work. he wasn't just watching you, no, he had also hacked into the cameras at your workplace to be able to record, listen and follow everything you did. nothing escaped him.

he was a jealous person and above all someone who didn't like having his ego attacked. that meant he definitely wasn't going to put up with you having this cute and perfect attitude with the other customers. well, especially men.

you were only doing your job for which you were poorly paid. to avoid getting bored and because you were trying to work on your shyness, you tried to come out of your shell by talking with customers.

but you made a mistake today. you didn't know it yet but you were going to regret it deeply and learn it hard.

"i think you're really pretty and you're so interesting..." the boy began, stammering a little, his elbows resting on the checkout counter. "i mean, it's rare to find girls like you... would you go out with me... i mean tonight haha! we could play a game ? "

it wasn't the first time you'd been flirted with, but certainly the first time you'd accepted. you had never dated anyone, you had never been in a relationship, you didn't even know what it felt like to truly be in love, to feel something for someone. and even if you were, you were too shy to admit it. but it was different, you wanted to try. you didn't have a plan tonight.

"you don't have to accept but here's my number..." he wrote on a post-it and you smiled back. you put it in the back pocket of your jeans.

you were so deep in thought that you couldn't have seen that the minute your new friend left the store, rafe got out of his car. he doesn't entered yet, he had something to sort out first.

but when he went to the store, you felt him different. there were bruises on his face, as if he had been in a fight. “what happened? do you want me to call an ambulance? "

“it's alright, pumpkin. it's just a little blood.”

“do you want me to take care of that?”

"it would be bad of me to abuse your time and your kindness. i have better things to offer, how about I walk you home tonight? i know your work is not close to where you live and i have my car right here...'

you had been surprised that he knew information like this. “no, don’t worry. besides, i’m busy this evening. ”

rafe's jaw tensed and contracted. he gave a tense and forced smile.

“ let me do this for you. you must be tired. ”

“you don’t need to do this for me, although I truly appreciate it.”

“you're wrong, i need to do this for you, sweetheart. just like everything you do for me. ”

“if you insist, it can’t kill me!”

if only you knew…

“ you're really so nice, pumpkin..."

“is that a bad thing?”

he scratched his chin with a light but somewhat dramatic smile before looking into your eyes. you were in ambiguous proximity since you were both leaning over the counter. he was taller than you, so you looked up.

"to be kind? no, not at all, sweetheart. it's just dangerous for you not to know who you're nice to. not all people are that sweet. sometimes they're really mean.”

“ what do…”

“ anyways, don't make me wait later. and you know you look really pretty today, you should dress up for me more often.”

you smiled. you couldn't ignore how nice it felt to receive a compliment, and especially from a pretty handsome boy. in one day, everything had gone by so quickly. you had a date, and rafe was taking you home. your evening promised to be perfect and unforgettable. you couldn’t wait.

at the end of the day. you had cleaned, tidied up all the shelves, turned off all the consoles, counted your cash register then closed shop in a breath of glory. you could finally relax.

as promised, rafe was waiting for you. he was leaning against his car, hands in his pockets.

he had opened your car door in a relatively clever way and then stood inside. he had closed the doors. and he had started. except he wasn't going the way to your house, he was going in the opposite direction.

“rafe, it’s not towards my house…”

“ i know, sweetheart, since we’re not going to your house.”

“but you said you were taking me home?”

“pumpkin, i lie a lot too.”

"rafe, i want to go home... seriously, this isn't fun. i have to meet someone tonight and he's going to wait for me ! "

“trust me, he’s not waiting for you.”

you were starting to panic because this really wasn't the person you knew. this time he didn't seem to be playing a character to please you. he was natural. you looked at him with big eyes. fear gripped your stomach, because you didn't know where you were going and he could go anywhere. you were on the verge of exploding, you needed to get out of that car but he was driving too fast.

“slow down, rafe. please, slow down.”

"oh no sweet thing, i make the rules here. you can't beg because i absolutely don't want to hear anything from you, you understand? i want you to stay nice and quiet like you've always been."

“rafe, fucking stop that car. "

he stopped suddenly, your head had hit the dashboard badly. he had gently lifted your face, putting your hair back in place while you cried into his hands from the emotion and shock.

“see? what happens when you swear like that? do you understand why you have to be polite now? it's a waste for a pretty girl like you to have such vocabulary. ”

you felt the tips of his lips on your nose, they were cold but comforting. there was something so bitter and disturbing in his tenderness as if there was nothing good even in his kindness. that all this affection was manipulation.

“i really want to go home.”

“i have a surprise for you. can you be patient?”

“ rafe, what is wrong…?”

“i’m taking care of you right now.”

"it's a kidnapping! i'm going to call the police."

he smiled wickedly as he resumed driving. “in your place, i wouldn’t make a single move. ”

“why? are you going to kill me?”

" oh i could, pumpkin. for now, i like you alive but if you still want to play silly with me, i might really want to. no, i will. so stay still and don’t make me be mean to you, i’d hate to have to hurt you.”

“if you don’t like hurting me, why are you doing this to me?” your tears were hot, rivers shining down your eyes. he was cruel and insensitive there. it didn't matter to him.

“ i really hate you..."

" oh such a pleasure actually pumpkin. tell me how much you hate me with those pretty annoying crybaby tears on your face. and don't forget to tell me when you're dry, i will gladly make you cry again. “

your throat felt tight and you were desperate. you had a knot in your stomach, fear that made you even more stupid and lost than you already were. because certainly, there was hatred but a lot of fear. he drove quietly, but he was mean to you. he no longer had the kind words he had for you when he came to see you at work. it was as if he was mad at you for something.

“what can i do to get you to take me home? "

“i could make you do a lot of things, but under no circumstances will i take you home.”

“you want sex? "

"oh i'm not sure that the virgin that you are would be able to make me cum but you can always prove me wrong."

“are you really going to kill me?”

“the more you ask me, the more i have the impression that this is what you would like.”

“i want to stay alive and go home.”

"you had to think about that before flirting with that idiot."

he had parked in an abandoned place, on a completely deserted road. when he opened the doors, you took your chance.

what a stupid mistake.

he was much bigger and faster than you. he had caught up with you without even running out of breath. he pulled you by the waist, pinning his arm against your bare stomach. he was clearly abusing all of his power. you had bitten him and he had released you. you fell heavily to the ground, and he positioned himself on top of you, crushing you against the grass with his fully beefy weight.

“it’s not time to play yet. try to escape from me again sweet thing, and i promise you that i will make sure that you have no more energy to run, but especially to escape. ” he had grabbed your jaw with one hand, gripping his fingers tightly against your skin. “and even if you are innocent, pumpkin. you and i know very well that you are aware of what i mean by that.”

your heart rate had increased so quickly. you were trapped and vulnerable. you wanted to spit in his face but you weren’t that suicidal.

he took your hand and placed it on his bulge which literally distorted his pants. “that's all that your heartbeat and your accelerated breathing make me feel right now. is it big? yes, and believe me i can make this bigger and very painful for you. so, no more playing, pumpkin.”

you nodded and he kissed your forehead. “you got it well, sweetheart. don’t let me be mean to you again because you’re really going to hate it.”

he stood up and extended his hand towards you. his tenderness was so unhealthy. he had taken you to the car and pulled a tied up boy out of the trunk.

the one you were supposed to see this evening. you let out a huge cry, taking several steps back but rafe took your hand, wrapping it too tightly against your little wrist.

“why did you do that? please leave me alone. i don’t want to see that!”

"oh oh, you're not the one who makes the rules here. i’m the only one who makes the fucking rules, i'm the only one who decides and not only do i decide what happens but also what role you're going to play. you wanted to flirt with this guy, go on a date with him? you had to be smarter and not do it in front of my eyes now look what you did this poor man is going to die because of you.”

"are you serious? you can't kill an innocent person! he didn't do anything."

"pumpkin, my sweet pumpkin, for every word you say, for every tear you shed, he will take a bullet. so please continue to defend him. i think we are already more than twenty"

you wanted to stop crying but you couldn't because the situation was surreal, horrible and so crazy. you refused to believe that rafe cameron could be a man like that.

“almost fifty. you're really going to kill him, sweetheart. you could be nicer. "

he was so sick and bad. he was taking advantage of the situation. it was completely sadistic. “i beg you to spare him.”

"now you beg for him? pumpkin, i’m the only one you can and should beg for."

he had fired more than fifty bullets into this poor guy's body. without the slightest shame, the slightest remorse and the slightest guilt. he didn't really feel anything. as you collapsed, completely devastated and ruined by what he had just done to you.

he had just killed a man in front of your eyes.

people always said that a guy who killed for you was romantic. but you didn't find it romantic. on the contrary, it had downright tortured you. you were afraid of him. you didn't even know how you managed not to piss on yourself because clearly, he was so creepy.

" i think he's dead." it was ironic, but coming from rafe, it wasn't funny or reassuring.

"what's wrong with you? and what are you doing with a gun? all those video games that made you sick or those horror movies?"

“watch your tone. you see how i killed him? it could be your turn too. ”

“no, don’t kill me!”

he moved closer to you, a laugh passing his lips. he knelt down to caress your tears with his thumb.

“you see what happens when you want to please others? how are you going to fix this now? ”

“i beg you to not kill me. ” you couldn't even see the ground, you were crying so much. it was a traumatic scene.

“now it's time to play. maybe i should have waited before killing him. i mean i wish he could watch you get destroyed by my cock. get in the car, and don't try to escape from me. i can be even more cruel to you. ”

he was hot and cold. all the time. you went to the car while you guessed that he must bury or hide the body somewhere. it had seemed like an eternity before he came back but on the one hand, there was something comforting about the fact that you weren't alone in the forest and that there was someone. even if it was cool.

he had gotten into the car. and patted his thighs to signal you to come on top. you didn't argue and came on his legs. you immediately felt his erection against the fabric of your underwear. it could hardly be ignored because the bulge had literally made you a few centimeters taller.

“are you still crying? he was a poor guy. he had a fucking girlfriend. do you want to date a guy who cheats on you? it's not worth it. you are better than that, you deserve better than that. ”

“by better, does that mean you? ”

“it’s different...but sure i would treat you better.”

“you killed someone in front of my eyes!”

“see? anything i can do for you.”

"you're sick and you ruined my life!"

"i’m tired of all this hysteria. i was going to kindly offer to prepare you with lube, but since you're offering me these pretty tears, we'll make do with it..."

“rafe…”

“oh no pumpkin. it’s not time to say my name yet.”

when he pushed himself inside you, the leaking tip slipped in your folds slick with a hard and brutal thrust. he made his way, watching his own cock stretching your cunt. you cried out from the pain, but you can't help but felt a little slight pleasure. “ if you're still crying for him, i swear i'm gonna fuck you until you're dry. ”

you started to bounce on him with your trembling legs, your ass slapping his thick thighs, your hair shaking on your shoulders, and your face ruined by your multiples and messy whining. you were tense as his girth splitted your sweet virgin cunt. he forced you to sped up the pace, smacking your butt every time you were too slow. his hands was big and strong, enough to feel the pain. especially, when the rings on his fingers left a mark on your poor skin. your tits were now on his hands, pressed firmly and your nipples on his mouth. he spat on them a couple of times. they were filled with spittles and marks, the succions noises in synchro with your rocking bodies. he was stuffed you with his hard dick. making you arched your back, and he placed his heavy hands on your waist, reaching your hips to help you go deeper, to fully take him, every inches.

“ it's like your pussy begging me to breed you…”

“ what…w-what is it ? ” you were too innocent to know those kinds of things.

you had the face and the attitude of an angel, too perfect, too pure, too delicate. “ maybe, it's better to show you, pumpkin. with that, you will be more able to learn the lesson and don't make me mad again. ”

“ what ? ” you gasped. you felt giddy but at the same time, curious.

“ m’ gonna make you so dirty, angel. tonight, you will lose your wings and purity for me. ”

“ please, don't hurt me ! ”

“ oh sweetheart, you're the only one to hurt me, the only one to make me do those kind of things..."

tysm @ahhnini for the idea of psycho!stalker!rafe <33

[astrae4]

A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS | park sungho

pairings — park sungho x reader (non idol au)

genre — (wc: 1.5k) fluff, romance 😼, strangers to lovers, fast-burn

warnings — ur kinda stalking him.. a bit…

note — HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SUNGHO!!! Guys i lowk want a man with shoulders as broad as his 🙁 is that too much to ask.. ALSO DANGEROUS WAS SO GOOD!!! The song teases too omg..right in my alley. I cannot wait for the album drop 😋😋

more works: navigation | bnd!masterlist

YOU SWEAR YOU’VE NEVER BEEN this interested in gyms before. Yeah, sure, you’re sporty. But gym sporty? Yeah no—that’s another level of torture.

Right now though…man you might just change your mind. You do one more bench press, super slow with your focus elsewhere—namely, the mirror on your right that shows a small reflection of the most scrumptious man you have ever seen in your life.

Those shoulders? Good gosh, they’d be perfect for your hands to rest on, agree?

(And the crowd screams yes!!!)

This was how you started being more consistent in the gym. Currently in week three and you’re so proud that you’re broken your world record of gym streaks.

You’ve decided then: you’re going to get him.

There was just one slight problem to this equation… you don’t have any courage to talk to him.

All you know are three facts:

His name was Park Sungho (how’d you know?you overheard a friend of his call him once. You’re not a creep, okay!!)

He had the most gorgeous shoulders known to mankind.

You want him.

Okay so maybe the third one isn’t really a fact—and you swear (cross your heart!) that your infatuation with him isn’t merely because his eyes are as twinkly as the moon, nor because his lips were plump and not crusty like most men, nor is it also because his voice is just…

Anyways! You get what I mean.

That was how you ended up ranting everything to your friend Sanghyeok—which apparently calls himself Riwoo now because he said he felt more cool and mysterious with that name. ( ok get it our nonchalant dread head!! )

“Park Sungho??” Asked Riwoo, startled once you blurted everything, “you mean the one with the pointy nose and sweet voice?”

You paused and raised an eyebrow at him, “duh? Have you been listening this whole time?”

“No not like that—you mean Park Sungho in class 19.99 right? He’s in your calculus class, dummy.”

“Wait—WHAT.”

Riwoo threw you a deadass stare, before fishing a muffin out his pocket and shoving his face in it. Perhaps he knew you too well as you started shaking him for answers.

”Just go approach him—”

”I can’t!”

”Then stop talking to me about it!”

“Please, my-Ri-to-the-woo—”

”UGH FINE! But no promises and you buy me a dozen donuts tomorrow.”

”Deal!”

You didn’t get him that dozen of donuts, but Lee Sanghyeok, being the good friend he is, still ended up conversing with his Sungho hyung in their shared dance class for you.

Luckily for you, he managed to score a hangout—the three of you—for next Wednesday over coffee and desserts.

Finally, with all the gears set in, you could start with ‘diary entry 1: A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS’

(yes, it’s meant to be this long)

1. A lady hints, not talks

The first ever step-slash-rule to secure a man is to give hints. Yes, hints. No way are YOU the one to make the first move, you hear me ladies? 😒 If he doesn’t pick up on the clues, then you drop!

Wednesday came. And boy, it came with a lot of nervousness, I tell you! But you were ready. Dropped in the cutest fit you have—a pair of jeans with a puffy dress on top (THIS COMBO>>>)—you were absolutely ready to charm Park Sungho.

It took you a while, but you made it on time (5 minutes late) to the cafe, Riwoo and Sungho conversing already at a table near the windows. Riwoo was the first to see you, sending a wave. You returned it, and right after, Sungho sent you one too—albeit less dramatic. Your smile turned up a bit more before sending a smaller wave back to him.

”Hi guys! Sorry if I’m late.”

”It’s okay, we just came,” replied Riwoo, “this is Sungho, my friend in Dance. Sungho, this is my best friend, [reader]”

Sungho stood up to shake your hand, and you both exchanged ‘nice to meet you’(s).

”Let me get coffee real quick!” You told them, before going to the cashier.

After you ordered, you went back to your seat.

“How are you these days, [reader]?” asked Riwoo

”Good, although I think I overworked my feet yesterday, It hurts slightly,” you replied, which by the way, was a big fat lie.

“Ah, is it doing better now?” asked Sungho, who was deeply concerned.

”It should be, I think,” you replied shortly.

More small talk was made before your order number got called. You went up to get it but before you could fully stand—

“I’ll get it for you, [reader],” answered Sungho.

“Huh?” both you and Riwoo replied in shock.

“You should rest your feet since they might still be in pain if you overexert it,” he replied simply.

“Oh there’s really no need, Sungho—“ you denied at first despite the fact that you were internally giggling.

“Please, I insist,” He replied with a smile that almost melted you on the spot, before taking your receipt and heading to the cashier.

It was silent for a moment before your eyes met Riwoo’s, and his met yours. Both of you kicked each other’s feet before suppressing a big fat grin.

2. a lady takes no risks

consult God (or a fortune teller if you’re not religious) to make sure this man is for you. Use the mind, not the heart.

“Okay,” You muttered to yourself like a nutjob, “IF. And only IF he is the one…um..” you paused your prayer for a second because you had no idea what to say.

You decided to just settle for the classic, “Please send me a sign, amen.”

And with that, you fixed your hair and applied pink lip gloss before leaving the house.

Step after steps, you kept thinking of him until you reached the actual library. You took a deep breath before going in. You were early this time, but it seems that Park Sungho has a matter of showing up super early, because he’s already there—sitting in a seat near the windows.

He had his back facing you, so you snuck up on him quietly before placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Sungho,” you muttered quietly, and he jolted, spinning around to look at you fast.

Were you delusional, or is he staring at you?

“Sungho..?” you repeated.

That seemed to jolt him out of his state, “Oh, [reader]—yes, sorry for that. I was out of it—“

You giggled before taking a seat beside him, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

There wasn’t much small talk after that, as you both seemed focused and determined to do well on your project. Mid-way, however, a crash followed by a yelp took you out of your very focused state. You turned to see Sungho—only, a book fell on top of his head.

“Sorry!” said a boy above you looking down on the rails. You both seemed to recognize him as Myung Jaehyun, who’s also in your shared calc class together.

“Why that—“ said Sungho, before he gives you a quick brb and went upstairs; probably to murder Jaehyun.

You picked up the book on the ground, and then stilled when you read the title.

‘The Sign’ by Robert Van Kampen.

Oh.

I mean, you’re not opposing now, are you?

3. A lady enjoys the reaps that she sowed

Get rizzed up all night by a nice guy (stream nice guy!!!)

“I love your shoulders,” you muttered at him, a hand on his bicep.

2 months had passed since you first dated each other.

”Oh yeah?” He replied, but his words seemed unfocused and disconnected—I mean, who can blame him when you’re sitting on him, looking so cute after you both just made out.

“Mhm,” you answered once more.

”Tell me more,” He asked.

You did, but midway you realized he was just looking over your lips—not paying attention. You rolled your eyes.

“Are you even list—“

He cut you off with another kiss. It lasted a while before he pulled away once more.

”Can’t believe I’m yours,” He whispered, smiling goofily.

You giggled. Yeah, Park Sungho’s yours. The man with broad shoulders is yours.

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse

NETWORKS: @k-labels @onedoornet

© astrae4 2024 — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖

💞 — savanclaw as some campus romance tropes!!

💞 — featuring!! leona kingscholar, ruggie bucchi, jack howl!!

💞 — warnings: none!! fluff and shenanigans.

💞 — each one is a little over 140 words! this is an old series from my old account that im rewriting!!

heartslabyul, savanaclaw, octavinelle, scarabia, pomefiore, ignihyde, diasmonia, others.

🩷 — LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

Leona Kingscholar is that guy you know is only attending your university because he is some wealthy prince. While you busted your ass to get accepted, he waved a few bills under some old guy's nose and now he is there. You try to ignore your anger until you both are partnered up for an assignment he does literally nothing, but still manages to mark high. 

After that, you swear you will never speak with him again... that is until you get lost and find yourself in Spelldrive Field where a certain someone is training. He looks so good on that broom, determined and all. You did not even realize you were staring until some big eyed first-year shot the disc your way by accident and everyone turned to you. Including the lazy lion, who approaches in slow but captivating steps.

“Whatcha starin’ at, kidege (little bird in Swahili)?”

🩷 — RUGGIE BUCCHI.

Ruggie is that guy who knows when literally every deal is happening on campus, and he takes advantage of every free thing he can get. The school garden gives out produce on Fridays in the morning? He is there. The Philosophy department is having a lecture and offering snacks? He will be in the front row with a plate, though he could not find it in him to care less about Marx's theory of dialectical materialism. After sharing a class with him, you now realize how useful his knowledge is. You do a few favors for him and bam, you are the first person he will share important dates with since the school is shit at advertising. There had to be another reason for his continuous support...

“Hey, there’s a guest speaker coming next week. Trein said they’ll be serving coffee and donuts— oh, and energy drinks are half-price for finals.”

🩷 — JACK HOWL.

Jack is that guy you wish you were more like. Every morning when you are just crawling out of bed after your all-nighter, he is up returning from his workout at the campus gym. It is no wonder he looks so jacked all the time. You find yourself a bit intimidated and insecure by the fact that he is just so much more organized than you are, so you avoid embarrassment by avoiding him.

It was a cruel coincidence that the one time you have enough random change to use the vending machine, it eats your money and keeps your snack just barely hanging from the hook so seductively. Frowning, you begin shaking it up, but then it begins to lean towards you too much, “Oh, shi—”

Before you could be crushed, Jack comes behind you quickly and holds it up, “Careful,” he mutters. You are apologizing profusely as he uses his change to get you another snack.

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

support me on ko-fi!

[jupitersfall]

single-mom blurb | J. Taylor

Jackie Taylor is the soccer mom. She shows up to every game in her son’s team colors, and cheers the loudest out of all the moms.

She had seen you before, but never spoken to you. All she knew, you were the assistant coach. But, you had started to catch her eye a little more with each game. She found herself showing up to practice to watch rather than just drop her son off.

She was a little hesitant when it came to her love life because, even though she was still relatively young, there were certain stigmas about single mothers. She wanted someone who understood that her biggest priority was her son.

But, things started slowly. Eye contact that would last a second too long, subtle compliments about how you were so good with the kids. Although, Jackie did have her guard up. Not out of fear, but out of caution. She had a life carefully built around her son, routines solid as stone: weekday practices, saturday pancakes, movie nights with popcorn and mismatched socks on the couch.

At first, it was easy to pretend nothing serious was happening. A few dinners. Some long conversations in the parking lot when the rest of the kids had already gone home and her son was in the car, complaining about needing a shower. Jackie told herself it was casual. She had too much going on to fall for someone. Too many responsibilities. Too many nights of worrying if she’d remembered to sign the permission slip or schedule the dentist appointment. But she couldn’t ignore how her chest fluttered every time your name popped up on her phone.

You didn’t press. You gave her space to feel safe. You made things light when they needed to be, but never shallow. She tried to show you her appreciation: showing up early to help set up cones before practice, bringing extra water bottles when the weather spiked and snacks for when the kids got hungry.

She let you in inch by inch. First, it was the casual dinners after games. Then it was you coming by on a sunday morning with donuts and staying to help build a new bookshelf that had been sitting in a box in the corner of the living room for three weeks. The early mornings before the school rush, when her son watched cartoons in mismatched pajamas and she sipped lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug. You started showing up with bagels and that cinnamon-honey spread she liked, which was only served at a bakery across town. It wasn’t every day. Just enough to make it feel like something to look forward to.

There were also the in-between moments. You’d help haul groceries into the house. You stayed for dinner more often, first out of convenience, then out of habit. Then out of want. You’d watch cheesy family movies on friday nights, with hot chocolate and candy. When she was feeling stressed, you’d wash the dishes, take out the garbage, vacuum around the house.

She didn’t just like being around you anymore, she had started to miss you when you weren’t there. She found herself leaning into you without meaning to—calling you when the car battery died, when her son came home with a scraped knee, when she had a bad day at work and needed someone to talk to. And when you showed up, you didn’t ask for anything in return. You just made space for her, for all of it.

Still, there were moments when the weight of it hit her. Once, she watched the two of you from the kitchen window—you and her son in the backyard, kicking a ball around like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she froze. Not from fear, but from the sheer magnitude of how much she was beginning to trust you. How much she wanted this to last.

That scared her, made her feel a weird twisting sensation deep in her gut.

She had her moments. Days when balancing everything felt like too much. Being a mom, a partner, a woman who still had her own dreams. But you never made her feel like she had to choose between it all. You just made space. Held it for her when she couldn’t hold it for herself. The night she pulled back, saying she needed time, that maybe things were getting too serious. You didn’t argue. You just nodded, said you understood, and reminded her that you weren’t going anywhere unless she asked you to.

But she never did. She really didn’t want you to go anywhere.

So she started leaving a toothbrush for you in the bathroom drawer. You started keeping a spare hoodie at her place. Her son started asking if you’d stay for dinner. You always said yes. And the first time her son fell asleep on your shoulder during movie night, Jackie just stared for a second, heart in her throat, throat in her stomach. You didn’t even move. You just shifted a little so he’d be more comfortable, rested your cheek on his head, and kept watching the movie like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It stopped being a question of if you were part of her family and started feeling like you always had been. The love between you didn’t ask to be center stage. It existed in the background hum of the everyday: grocery store runs, the occasional forgotten lunchbox, the routine of bedtime stories and alarm clocks and coffee brewing just the way she liked it.

It wasn’t flashy, but it was full of trust and comfort, which is what Jackie craved most.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for something to fall apart. She didn’t feel like she was making space for someone who wouldn’t stay. She didn’t feel like she needed to be smaller, less of a burden. Really, she didn’t feel like a burden at all. Not when it came to you. You two weren’t just dating, anymore. You were building something. Slow, and steady, brick by brick.

[semperamans]

all i can think about is soft!benny :'(

benny who doesn't give a fuck when the boys hoot and holler and give him shit whenever you're within ten feet of one another. benny who tips his chin, fights a smile, and docks his jaw atop your head as you stand in front of him while cal prattles on about stacking donuts on his dick. benny who tugs you into his lap at any and every opportunity because he wants you close close close. benny who let you paint his nails because you asked so nicely. benny who promises each time he leaves your sight that he'll return. benny who helps you slide into his jacket; who grabs the lapels and presses a kiss on your nose before letting you go. benny who takes you on late-night rides because you told him you couldn't see the stars for the light pollution. benny who doesn't talk, not much, but never hesitates to whisper a firm "i love you." in your ear when he gets the chance. benny who smiles so warmly at you when you're rambling because jesus christ you're the most darling thing he's ever laid eyes on. benny who knows this life is dangerous and wants to protect you. benny who laces your fingers together in crowds. benny who stands outside of bathrooms whenever you and your girlfriends are in there. benny who lets you be you. who loves you in the most purest of ways because you love him. benny :'(

[annlyticalarchive]

CHAPTER THREE: The Lies You Tell Yourself

”You will be different, sometimes you’ll feel like an outcast, but you’ll never be alone”

Mark Grayson X Kryptonian/Clark Kent! Reader

Prologue | Chapter Two| Chapter Three (Here) | Chapter Four

w/c: 2.8k

c/w: None

a/n: the return of Mark, finally! sorry he wasn’t in the first few chapters much, I just needed to set Kent up a little bit-

You stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, until sunlight began to pierce through the blinds. You didn’t move until the beams started to sting your eyes. With a sigh, you finally rolled out of bed and started your day.

Pa was already in the kitchen by the time you were dressed and ready, a mug of black coffee in one hand and the morning newspaper in the other. He was still adamant about getting the physical edition, as he said it was easier to cut and frame the articles you helped write.

“Mornin’, Pa,” you greeted, snagging a piece of bacon from the plate he’d set out for breakfast.

“You remember everything you’ve got to do today?” you asked as you poured a glass of juice.

“Physical therapy and Dr. Kim,” he replied with a wave of his hand. It was fond, but you could catch the faint trace of irritation, the kind that always surfaced when he thought you were worrying too much. “You go chase your stories. I’m fine, kiddo.”

You laughed softly and reached for a piece of toast, earning a swat from Pa.

“Yes, sir,” you grinned, pulling on your jacket and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Have a good day, Pa. See you tonight!”

“Love you, kiddo. Be safe!”

“Always am!” you called over your shoulder as the apartment door clicked shut behind you.

You made your usual stop at the café near the Daily Planet. A bustling corner shop that smelled like vanilla, fresh bread, and coffee grounds. The barista already had your near daily order ready: a dozen coffees, two dozen donuts. You paid with a thank-you smile and a generous tip from your own wallet instead of the communal piggy bank you used to buy said breakfast.

By the time you reached the bullpen, half the drinks were claimed and most of the donuts were gone in under a minute.

Three drinks and two donuts survived the feeding frenzy as you stepped into the tiny broom-closet of an office you shared with your friends. You passed out the coffees, and they grabbed their breakfast like clockwork.

“I can’t believe I’m grounded to the obits,” Lois groaned, collapsing into her chair and nursing her coffee like it is the only thing to make the betrayal of writing obituaries better.

“I can,” Jimmy muttered, tearing his donut in half and handing the other piece to you.

“You did try to forcefully cross a police barricade,” he added, “in front of, like, the entire department and two heroes.”

“To ask the important questions!” Lois shot back, indignantly crossing her legs with a huff.

“To ask questions no one wanted to hear and no one was going to answer,” you said around a bite of donut.

“Exactly!” Lois huffed, clearly taking that as a win.

You took a sip of your drink, eyeing them both over the rim. “So, have we all been benched today?”

“I’m following Steve around. Again.” Jimmy groaned, dragging his hand down his face, sounding like he was already planning an escape route. “Please pray for me.”

“Wait. All?” He quickly questioned as he stared at you.

“I’m supposed to be cleaning the morgue, remember?”

“You didn’t finish that yesterday?”

“Eh, no..?” You shrugged your shoulders, “Mark came back into the city and took me to lunch, and that’s when you two burst in.”

“Mark, huh?” Lois perked up, a dangerous look on her face like the cat who got the cream.

“No. Lois, no.”

“I’m just saying, you talk about him a lot,” She raised her hands in mock defense, which only made you squint suspiciously.

Lois Lane didn’t do mock innocence. Ever.

“He was the first friend I made when I moved to the city.” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore the way your ears felt hot, “Beat Jimmy by, what, a week?”

“I’ll never forgive him for that,” Jimmy said, deadpan, before taking an overly long sip of coffee like he was mourning a betrayal.

Soon after, you all split off. Lois grumbling as she returned to her cubicle to write up obituaries, Jimmy getting dragged off by Steve, and you descending into the maze that takes you back to the small room that acts as the Daily Planets morgue. 

Back to the room you spent most of the day in yesterday. But at least with monotony of organizing kept your thoughts clear.

Times like these, you were very grateful for your strength. Even if it was sometimes hard to gauge what was actually heavy, the way the metal bins creaked when you lifted them told you everything you needed to know. Most people needed a dolly and backup to move these shelves. You didn’t even break a sweat.

It was mindless work. Cataloging, shifting things around, relabeling ancient filing drawers. But you didn’t mind the quiet.

At least, until it was broken.

You were mid-reorganization when the light above the morgue’s entrance flickered—and then clicked off completely. An electric feeling in the air, like static electricity during the dry season. Just like…

Your fingers paused on a drawer handle.

Silence.

Then footsteps.

Slow. Steady. Not panicked. Not rushed.

You turn, heart picking up in pace, and catch a familiar silhouette in the dark.

“Nice place for a chat,” came a voice. Calm. Clipped. The same voice from yesterday.

Your grip tightened on the metal handle behind you.

“Didn’t think you'd be so eager for a second conversation that you’d show up at my workplace,” you said, keeping your tone even despite the chill that wasn’t just from the morgue.

He stepped into view, hands in his pockets, eyes studying you like a puzzle.

“I’m here because I need answers. Because frankly, you are a walking question mark. One that concerns me.”

He let the words hang between you.

You could feel your pulse in your ears.

“Unless, of course,” he added, “you already know the answer. And you’re just keeping that from us cause you know where it’ll end you.”

“Because I don’t know!” you snapped.

It came out sharper than you'd meant, louder, too. But you didn’t take it back. Not this time. Not when this strange man had been watching, tailing, and cornering you. Pretending like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

You took a shaky breath, pressing your fingers into the bridge of your nose beneath your glasses.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, quieter this time. “I’m just trying to live a normal life.”

“You don’t get to live a normal life when you can do the things we’ve seen you do.”

His tone was flat. Cold. Like he wasn’t trying to hurt you, just stating a fact. And somehow, that made it worse.

“I will,” you said, lifting your head. Your voice steadied, hardening. “Because I don’t care who you are, you don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t do with my life.”

You squared your shoulders and stepped toward him, refusing to back down.

“You’re part of the government, right? Maybe try focusing on your own heroes, and all the collateral damage they cause every time they ‘save’ the day.”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, flipping it around so the voice recorder was facing him. Muscle memory making it smoother than you felt.

“Would you like to make a statement,” you asked, “on why you’re spending your valuable time stalking and harassing a reporter from Kansas instead of doing your actual job?”

The man didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

But the corner of his mouth twitched, just slightly.

“I’d be careful about where you point that thing,” he said, calm as ever. “You might not like what gets recorded.”

You didn’t lower the phone.

“And I’d be careful about who you try to intimidate in a locked room,” you shot back. “You’re not the only one who’s seen things.”

For a second, the air between you felt electric, tight with silence, the kind that came before a storm.

Then Cecil exhaled through his nose, like he was disappointed but not surprised. He pulled something from his coat, an ID badge in a slim leather holder, and held it up between two fingers.

“Cecil Stedman. Global Defense Agency.”

The badge looked real. But then again, so did everything about him.

“I’m not here to arrest you. I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to offer you a choice.”

You stared at him, unmoving.

“I don’t want your offer.”

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

He looked at you for a long moment. 

Measured. Still.

“Then I hope, for your sake, that whoever you really are knows how to stay hidden a little longer. Because once you’re on the radar, you don’t get to come off it.”

He turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the frame.

“We’ll talk again.”

“No, we won’t.”

He didn’t answer. Just left.

The door closed with a quiet click.

And suddenly, the morgue felt a lot colder than before.

It took you longer than you’d like to admit to calm down. You stood there for a moment, just listening to the silence, heart pounding and fingers still curled slightly around your phone like it was a weapon.

But eventually, you found your rhythm again. The mindless routine of organizing and sorting helped you settle, metal drawers creaking, file folders being stacked, labeled, and shuffled. It was grounding. Familiar.

You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until your phone buzzed from its spot high up on a filing cabinet.

Marker: guessing u havent had lunch again. want to go grab some?

You sighed as you read it, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. Without thinking, you unlocked your phone and typed a reply.

You: Always. Where to?

Marker: new place ive been wanting to try

ill show u the way

now get down here im not walking through that maze again

You: Pfft. I’ll meet you out front.

You slid your phone into your pocket, dusted your hands off, and grabbed your coat. It was routine now. Mark checking in, dragging you away from work when you got too locked in. A lifeline.

You needed one of those today.

The elevator dinged as you stepped in and leaned against the wall, staring at your reflection in the brushed metal. You looked tired. Like someone who hadn’t slept. Like someone who was still hearing that voice.

"You don’t get to live a normal life."

You scowled and pushed the thought away.

Not now.

You emerged from the building and spotted Mark immediately, leaning against a lamppost with that easy smile he always wore when he saw you.

“There you are! I was about to hang up some missing posters,” he joked, holding out a to-go cup. “Figured you might need something warm before we get there.”

“Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me, like, five,” he replied with a grin. “But who’s counting?”

You both started walking down the block, boots tapping on the concrete, shoulders bumping slightly as the lunch crowd bustled around you.

For a moment, it was just this, normal. Safe. Quiet.

Then he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You okay?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just a weird morning.”

Mark didn’t press. He just nodded, casually pointing down the street.

“Well, good news, this place apparently has the best dumplings in the city.”

“Big words,” you teased, grateful for the shift in subject. “You’re staking your reputation on this.”

“Hey, if I’m wrong, I’ll buy you dessert.”

“That’s dangerous,” you warned with a smile. “I have no self-control when it comes to sweets.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

You kept walking, and for a little while longer, you let yourself believe in the lie you told: that things were fine. That the tension crawling beneath your skin wasn’t there. That the weight in your chest wasn’t growing heavier every day you had to pretend to be someone else.

You tried to get Mark talking about his trip as you made your way to the mystery restaurant. But Mark had gotten better at dodging questions lately. Still, he gave you the small things. The kind of details that didn’t matter to anyone else, but made you feel like you hadn’t missed as much as you had.

How he saw this really cute animal he wished he’d gotten a picture of to show you.

How the new time zone wrecked his sleep schedule.

How he wished you’d come with him, because there were sights he swore you wouldn’t believe.

You smiled at that. A real one.

"Next time, maybe I will," you said, though you both knew that was easier said than done.

“Yeah?” He glanced at you, half teasing but hopeful underneath. “You gonna finally take a break from sitting in your closet and writing, what do you call them, fluff pieces?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only if you promise not to disappear again without warning.”

He winced, mock wounded. “Oof. Low blow.”

“You deserved it.”

“Fair.”

“I’ll take you sometime,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “We’ll go somewhere. Just us.”

You glanced at him. His expression was light, easy. But you’d known him long enough to catch the flicker of actual sincerity behind it instead of it being a simple empty promise.

“Better be a place with dessert,” you replied, bumping him back.

“Obviously.”

You turned the corner, and he pointed toward a narrow spot nestled between two larger buildings. Warm lighting spilled through fogged windows. The smell of freshly steamed dumplings wafted into the street.

“This is it?” you asked, already smiling. “Okay. I’m feeling optimistic now.”

“You’re going to love it.”

Inside, the place was cozy, wooden walls, only a handful of tables, and a quiet counter where an older woman greeted you both with a smile. Mark quickly ordered, knowing you’re not picky with your food and will eat most things placed in front of you.

You slipped into a booth and watched him return with a pitcher of water and two small cups.

“You always bring people to secret restaurants?” you asked as he sat across from you.

“Nope,” he said, pouring water into your cup. “Just you.”

It was quiet for a second. You looked away.

Outside, the city moved on. Cars passed. People talked and laughed on the sidewalk. The world kept spinning.

But under the table, your foot brushed his. He didn’t move it. If anything, he nudged back, just as the food arrived and the two of you began to dig in.

Somewhere behind all the laughter and teasing, your unease still lingered. Like a draft sneaking through a cracked window.

Halfway through lunch, Mark set his chopsticks down and studied you for a moment. Not suspicious. Not prodding for something. Just... soft.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you sure everything’s okay? You keep saying you are, but…”

You hesitated. It wasn’t fair, really. He had his own secrets, ones you hadn’t pried into, even when you’d wanted to. But the way he looked at you now, like he could see the fraying edges of your composure, made it harder to lie.

“I had a weird run-in this morning. And... last night too,” you admitted, your voice low. “Some guy claiming to be with the government. Asking a lot of questions he had no business asking.”

Mark’s expression darkened slightly. “About you?”

You nodded. “Some crazy stuff. He was pushing hard. Acting like I’m not who I say I am. Like I’m- Like I’m dangerous.”

Mark leaned forward. “Did he threaten you?”

“Not really. Not directly.” You paused. “But he made it clear that I’m not normal. That I’ll never get to be.”

He was silent for a moment, jaw tight. Then: “He’s wrong.”

You looked up.

“You do get to have a normal life,” Mark said, voice steady. “Or at least your version of it. And if someone thinks otherwise? They can deal with me.”

You laughed quietly, warmth blooming in your chest. “Are you seriously threatening a mystery government agent on my behalf?”

Mark shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a great friend.”

You smirked. “You’re something, all right.”

You knew he probably just said that because he knew you were adopted, because sometimes, on very rare days, you still struggled with what that meant. Where you came from. How you didn’t know anything of who you were outside of the girl raised on a farm.

He didn’t know everything. But he knew just enough of it to comfort you, but he didn’t know the truth. But not the full one. Never the full one if you could help it.

But it still felt… nice. In a way you couldn’t quite name.

The silence that settled between you was different this time. Not awkward. Just full.

And maybe, just maybe, you let your foot rest against his for a little longer than necessary.

[ducksido]

Hai! Um so that angst destroyed me😖😖😖😖😖 so now I must counteract it via requesting a version where all the overblot boys + grim (and more if u want) reacting after finding out that reader was not in fact dead, just in a really really bad comatose (I know that’s not how it works but I need hurt comfort or else I’m imploding)

Also I fucking love grim sooooooo much like hes so cutie, also idia’s part 😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖 ESPIECALLY THE MALLEUS ONE OMG IDIA NOOOOOOOOO (guess who I am hard edition)

(mmm idia lover?)

SETTING: MALLEUS OVERBLOT DEATH

Grim

He’s curled up beside your body when he feels it.

Your fingers twitch.

“…n-no…”

You blink.

“YUuuuuuuuuuuuUuUUuuUuuuUuuU!!” He full-body launches into your chest, sobbing and purring at once.

“YOU DUMB HUMAN—DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!! I THOUGHT—I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE!!”

He sleeps on top of you for a week. You’re not allowed to breathe without Grim supervision.

Riddle Rosehearts

He sees you stir in the infirmary and nearly chokes on his tea.

“You’re—you’re awake??”

He bolts to your bedside, tearing up despite himself.

“You’re insufferable and reckless and completely absurd—but I missed you so much!!”

He gently smooths your hair back, trying not to sob.

Leona Kingscholar

“…Che.”

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking way too nonchalant.

“I knew you’d wake up. No way someone that annoying would die that easily.”

But the way his voice breaks on ‘wake up’?

Yeah. He cried earlier.

Azul Ashengrotto

He was in the middle of writing you a letter he’d never send when Jade comes running.

He freezes.

Then, with shaking hands, he runs straight to you.

“…You’re here. You’re really here.”

He clutches your hand. Doesn’t let go. Orders Floyd to go get you soup right now.

Jamil Viper

His hands tremble as he checks your pulse for the 100th time—then you whisper his name.

He drops to his knees. Covers his face.

“…You really scared me, you know.”

He places a protective ward around your bed. Refuses to leave until you're walking again.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t cry.

But the moment you smile at him, he gasps—like it physically hurt.

“You absolute menace… do you know what this did to your complexion!?”

He fixes your IV. Fluffs your pillow. Then sits beside you and holds your hand like porcelain.

Idia Shroud

He didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. He coded a whole AI to simulate your voice just to cope.

When Ortho tells him you’re awake?

He teleports into the room, hair flaring blue flames, eyes wild.

Then sees you blink.

And crumples to the floor.

“Y-you’re… real??”

He sobs. You pet his floofy hair. He refuses to let go.

Malleus Draconia

He felt it the moment your soul stirred.

He appears beside you in a swirl of green fire.

You look up.

“…Hornton?”

He falls to his knees. His voice trembles.

“Yes, child of man. I—I thought I lost you forever.”

He watches over your bedside like a mourning lover returned to life.

Floyd Leech

You open your eyes to him poking your cheek.

“Oi, Shrimpy? …Is that twitch real orrrrrr am I hallucinating again?”

You groan.

He SHRIEKS.

“WOOOOOOOO!! SHRRIIIIIMMMMPYYYYYYY!!!!”

Crushes you in a bone-breaking hug. Security tries to pull him off. Fails.

Jade Leech

He smiles the second you stir.

“Welcome back. The sea was quiet without you.”

He makes you herbal tea. Gently brushes your hair.

You have never felt safer than in his calm, quiet care.

Ruggie Bucchi

He drops his lunch tray when he hears the news.

Rushes to you, panting.

“Oi—dummy—don’t scare people like that! I thought I’d have to start praying or something!”

He brings you donuts. Smiles sheepishly.

“You're not allowed to die. Ever again.”

Epel Felmier

He breaks down crying on your lap.

“You’re so stupid. You almost left us and you didn’t even say goodbye…”

He hugs you like a lifeline.

And won’t let go until someone peels him off.

Kalim Al-Asim

He sobs into your blanket the second you say his name.

“Y-you’re okay… YOU’RE OKAY!!”

Throws a massive party in your honor. Bans all mention of death or thorns. Only sunshine from now on.

Trey Clover

He kneels beside you. Doesn’t speak at first.

Then mutters,

“…Glad I didn’t bake that memorial cake yet.”

He wipes your face gently and helps you sit up.

Cater Diamond

“Oh my Seven—ohmySevenohmySeven!! You're really here—!!”

He starts livestreaming. Stops.

Turns it off.

And just holds your hand in silence, soaking in the reality of your warmth.

Deuce Spade

He cries immediately.

No words. Just pulls you into a hug and sobs.

“You came back…”

Ace Trappola

He stares for a long time.

“…Tch. You just had to make it dramatic, huh?”

He ruffles your hair.

And wipes his eyes when he thinks no one’s looking.

Crowley

He actually kneels at your bedside and says:

“…I genuinely wept. I—I’m so glad you’re okay, my child.”

He funds your full recovery and gives you extra credit for “defeating death.”

Jack Howl

Upon hearing the news, Jack rushes to your side, his usual stoic demeanor breaking into a relieved smile. He gently places a hand on your shoulder, saying, "You're strong. I knew you'd pull through." He then offers to help you regain your strength, suggesting morning runs together once you're ready.

Rook Hunt

Rook is overwhelmed with emotion, tears streaming down his face as he clasps your hands. "Ah, mon trésor! The beauty of your spirit triumphs over adversity!" He insists on composing a poem in your honor, celebrating your resilience and the joy of your return.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho's sensors detect your vital signs stabilizing, and he immediately informs Idia with uncontainable excitement. He hovers beside your bed, offering assistance with your recovery and sharing stories to keep your spirits high. "Welcome back! We've all missed you so much."

Silver

Silver, often calm and composed, allows a rare smile to grace his features upon seeing you awake. He sits by your bedside, holding your hand gently. "Rest easy now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way." He even brings in small animals from the forest to cheer you up.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek bursts into the room, his voice booming with emotion. "Human! You're awake! The Young Master will be pleased!" Despite his usual sternness, he can't hide the relief in his eyes. He vows to protect you with renewed vigor, ensuring your safety from now on.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia enters with a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling. "I knew you'd find your way back to us." He brings homemade treats and hums lullabies to soothe you. His presence is comforting, like a gentle guardian watching over you.

Sam

Sam appears with a mysterious grin, placing a charm beside your bed. "Welcome back, my friend. The shop hasn't been the same without your visits." He offers you a special talisman, said to ward off nightmares and aid in healing.

Divus Crewel

Professor Crewel, usually strict and composed, shows a rare moment of vulnerability. He adjusts your blanket, ensuring you're comfortable. "You've caused quite the commotion, pup. Let's focus on your recovery now." He arranges for your assignments to be postponed until you're well.

Mozus Trein

Professor Trein clears his throat, trying to mask his emotions. "It's good to see you awake, young one." He leaves a stack of books by your bedside, suggesting light reading to ease you back into studies. Lucius, his cat, curls up at your feet, purring softly.

Ashton Vargas

Coach Vargas bursts in with his usual enthusiasm. "You're back! Excellent! Once you're up for it, we'll start with light exercises to get you back in shape!" He leaves a set of dumbbells by your bed, winking as he exits.