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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 2 months

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SUMMARY : In which you let your husband take your virginity on your wedding night.

PAIRINGS: Dilf Taehyung x virgin reader

WORD COUNT :2K

SMUT WARNINGS: Unprotected sex (off course) ,cum eating, oral f. Eating out over panties, fingering, squirting, mention of blood (her cherry popped)! Titty sucking, aftercare ladies <3

A/N: A little something as I’ve reached 1k heheh thank you so much lovelies and i hope you liked this one and thank you my love 💖 @jj-one who helped me with this one and also @kingofbodyrolls who made this sexy banner💖

The beach was filled with fragrant blooms, an array of white and pink tulips adorned the set up, a gentle breeze softly tickles the groom's hair and he smiles looking at you walking hand in hand with your father holding a small bouquet of lilies.

Your wedding veil cascades down your back, complementing the silk lace and pearls embroiled on the dress, making you feel like a fairy princess. Nervously walking down the aisle with your father you blush the moment you see your husband, soft music and doting cheers follows in the background the moment you took each step.

Soon reaching upon you face the love of your life Kim Taehyung, your dad places your hand on your husband’s and some tears brim his eyes, asking him to always protect you and keep you happy forever. He chuckling upon his request, promising to keep you happy for the rest of his life while kissing the back of your palm and whispers "you look so beautiful my love." You visibly chuckle and mutter him a small "thanks, you look handsome as well".

You never thought you would end up with your casual fling that you met from an app, remembering it was one of your friends who had signed you up on the app after you broke up with your toxic ex. On the other side, Taehyung's friend, Jungkook, had signed him up when divorced his wife, thinking it was a good idea to get out of the grief and have some fun.

Your interests he was afraid if he came clean about his son you would leave.

He was sure he had fallen in love with you over the past year from just chatting and calling each other daily. It made him feel like he was a young man again and not a 38-year-old man who had a kid who would depend on for a few more years.

Taehyung was also afraid of the 16-year-old age gap, thinking it was too soon for you to commit to a lifelong relationship which included a child.

He had enough of it when he finally decided to take you on a date and coming clean about it. He came fully prepared to tell you about his son and break this situation you were in, he liked (read: Loves) you, but he didn't want you to live with the pressure of living with a child as you were young, and you had so much to experience.

In the cozy coffee shop, soft jazz played in the background while you nervously fidget on the chair, summing up the courage to tell him that you had started liking him and can see a future together. The man in front of you gave a crooked smile, continuing to surf through the menu.

"What will you have Y/n?" Taehyung asks as he skims each and every item written on the menu, his leg bouncing under the table due to anxiety.

"I love you Taehyung," you say at the same time as he began talking, he goes blank, the menu dropping from his hands while you mentally facepalm at yourselves. "Fuck I shouldn't have dropped this bomb this early.”

"What?" Taehyung gasps and then visibly gulps, and you return a crooked smile back. "Yes tae, I love you I've been loving you for a while now.." you confess once again, and he shutters "We-ll y/n m-e too" he says as if he's exclaiming, and you smile wide.

"But wait y/n, before I properly confess I want to tell you something," Taehyung nervously adds, becoming restless. Observing his moments you grab his spare hand which rested on the table and tell him to calm down.

"Y/n, you know I’m divorced, right? But I'm sorry I have hidden something very big from you, I have a five-year-old son Yi-hyun" he says, and you gasp "Oh my god, tae why did you hide this for so long?" you question, he fiddles with his fingers and explains his insecurities and chances of you leaving him.

"No tae, I would never, in fact, I love children and I would really love to spend my whole life with you." You blush as those words come out and Taehyung giggles, "I'll be more than glad and feel honored to stay with you for the rest of my life."

Taehyung gazes into your eyes, his eyes full of love and promises, the gentle breeze makes the few whips of your flix fly, and he thinks you look so pretty, soon the calm breeze carries out your wedding vows and seals all the promises of this lifetime commitment.

Yi-hyun stands right in the middle of you and Taehyung's parents, an uproar of cheers and claps filled the atmosphere when you exchange your rings. Glancing at him, you give a flying kiss and he acts to catch it, your husband won't stop at looking you with heart eyes.

It was soon evening while you and your husband basked in the warmth of newly wed love, surrounded by all your supporting family and friends. He occasionally steals a few kisses from you when you both slow danced and enjoyed the dance until it was time to make your grand exit and walk hand in hand till you reached your car.Your parents insisted on keeping your son for a couple of days until you come back from the honeymoon.

"Yi- hyun, don't trouble your grandparents okay baby? Be a good boy for me and your mom okay?" Your husband tells your son and he nods , he kisses yours and his father's and climbs down from his grasp and tells you both a "goodbye".

"Let's go baby been waiting for this day ever since I met you, gonna fuck you hard," Taehyung says with lust-filled eyes, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He lays a few soft pecks, soliciting a gasp from you, letting out the smallest whimper of his name.

The ride to your house was short, your husband helped to get you out of the car and quickly thanked the driver, not even a minute later your back meets the door of your penthouse as your husband starts to devour your mouth with his, heavy kisses full of spit coats your lips.

You were taken aback for a few seconds until your mind processes his action, kissing your lover back with the same burning passion, you struggle a bit until you get the keys from the back pocket of Taehyung's pants.

"One Sec baby, let me just open this, and we can go inside," you say almost breathlessly in between kisses, turning around. Once inside, both you and his clothes join the ground soon. "I'll go slow baby okay? It's your first time, right? Gonna savour every last moment of this." Taehyung assures you, and you nod.

Never in your twenty-two years of living did you have sex with your boyfriend. Sex was a whole different thing you’ve yet to experience but you weren't a saint when it came to it either, the curious teen in you would look up porn and even tried masturbating before, but you just didn’t feel anything from it, you thought you were doing something wrong.

Taehyung helped you to get comfortable in the bed whilst he removes the last piece of his clothing, his boxers, while you had kept your panties on, feeling your cunt coating the plumpness of his lips with your slick. You moan at the movement as he hovers above you, "ready baby?" your husband sweetly asks, you nod and voice a simple "yes.”

Soft, gentle kisses are first felt on your neck and the light touch of his fingertips tickles your lower belly, coming dangerously close to your core. His nimble fingers nudge the bow on your lace panties, sucking in your breath when he slowly goes down to explore the rest of your body, sucking on your skin lightly as he trails his way down. Soon purple hues are decorated all over you.

Once he faces your core, his hot breath leaves you tingly inside, whimpering out his name as he slowly licks a wet strip of over the fabric of your panties and sucks on the ball of your clit, repeating his languid motion again and again, his eyes watching you above him. You’re left nothing short of a moaning mess, "fuck feels so good tae, just like that baby.." you express him how good he’s making you feel when he sucks and licks you over your panties, this new sensation was like no other.

Soon after a while he completely removes them off your body, groaning at the mess you made and his fingers rub over it so he could have some of you on his fingers. "Open baby" he affirms, you ecstatically take them in your mouth sucking off each finger one by one, he chuckles and bites back a moan. He thinks you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.

"Gonna finger you baby, stay calm okay? I promise it's gonna soon feel okay." He assures and slowly inserts one of his fingers, you moan out loud as it feels different from what you felt while playing with yourself.

One finger soon turned into two and you felt something weird coming out, "Taehyung stop-stop, something's coming out," you breathlessly warn but he tells you to go on and doesn’t stop fingering you, only upping his pace. Liquid soon gushes out, "fuck baby, pretty girl" never failing to fluster you and make you blush, shying away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

His frame hovers above yours and tells you to rest properly, "Baby, is it okay?" He asks before continuing. His hard cock brushing over your soaked pussy lips, itching to be inside your warm cunt, his fingers part your lips while you involuntarily twitch, feeling weightless as his thumb rubs gentle circles along your sensitive clit. "Ready y/n? Look we don't have to do it tonight you can always back out baby" he says while you whimper at the loss. "N-no want it so bad I can take it" you eagerly said, leaning in to kiss his lips. "It might hurt at first, but then it's going to be okay, I promise my darling." With that, he slowly aligns himself with you and enters inside, causing you to both moan in unison.

Kissing your forehead to calm you down when he sees faint tears brimming your eyes, he pulls out just enough so he can spit in between you two to make the slide much easier. He notices some blood as you were still a virgin— up until now, beads of sweat drip from the sides of him and some of it lands onto your boobs. He attached his lips to suckle them, seeing your pretty mouth open wide and decides to slip his finger in, your body rises a bit when he tells you to see the bloody mess and you whimper while he pets your head with his other hand.

"Calm down baby you’re gripping me so hard.." he groans from the way you’re sucking him up and you try your best to relax your muscles and try to enjoy this feeling while occasionally kissing him, moaning at his touches. He rests his forehead on top of yours and soon he cums inside, gasping from his overwhelming orgasm, he slowly pushes himself up and removes his now softened cock. You feel the cum dripping down to your ass. “Wait up baby, I'm gonna get something to clean you up.” He smiles dotingly and you nod back at him.

Soon he cleans you both up and brings you a glass of water to drink, he’s cuddling with you as his fingers lace with yours. Soft kisses resound the room until you both knock down in each other's embrace.

You decide to wake him up with a good, morning blow job but who knew it would be him to be waking you up instead.

#Taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim Taehyung smut #kim Taehyung fanfiction #Kim Taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #Taehyung fluff #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #v smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #Dilf Taehyung #Virgin reader #cherry prick #bts v #Bts #bts fanfic bts smut

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srvbryn · 4 months

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Clarisse La Rue. Flower Field

Clarisse La Rue X f!reader (no mention of godly parent)

Summary: going to a field of flowers to take photos but end up laying in the field with Clarisse<33

Warning: NONE, this one is short 😔

A/n: I hope people realize that I also write 4 other characters THAT ISN'T LUKE CASTELLAN 😭😭 also maybe I should start writing for Umbrella Academy 🤭🤭 BEN <333

The usual date is enjoyable, but today is special for you and Clarisse, <3 it is the anniversary of the day you and she first met.

So, why not spend the day with your beloved girlfriend in the flower field?

You and Clarisse find a comfortable spot to lie down among the colourful blooms. The sun warms your skin, and laughter fills the air.

"These flowers are pretty, but you're prettier." Clarisse spoke up, breaking the silence.

You blush, playfully nudging her. "Smooth, sweetness. I thought you were here for the flowers."

Shs grins, reaching for your hand. "Nah, I'm here for you. And maybe a few good photos."

The field of flowers surrounds you, a kaleidoscope of colours under the sun's gentle caress.

Warmth, the feeling of warmth, and spending time together is definitely what you like, especially since being a demigod is very dangerous :((

Most demigods didn't make it past the age of 16, so you appreciate the opportunity to spend time with your girlfriend.

Clarisse vibrant rare personality complements the surroundings, suggests an ideal location to capture the memory of the day.

As you set up the camera, Clarisse can't resist teasing, "Hey, you better make sure my good side is the focus."

You smile and say, "Don't worry, I'll make you look like the daughter of Aphrodite." The shutter clicks, freezing a moment that reflects the warmth you share.

Soon, the petals and the soft hum of bees have you both lying down, with the grass beneath providing a natural bed. Clarisse looks at you, her eyes sparkling.

"Who knew a field of flowers could be so relaxing? Beats any fancy mattress - I could fall asleep any minute now."

You join in, "Nature's way of inviting us to take a break, I guess."

The conversation flows, blending with the rustling leaves and the distant sounds of birds.

"This feels like one of those cheesy romance scenes from a novel." Clarisse scoffs.

You smirk, "Are you complaining?"

She nudges you, her voice softening, "No, just observing. It's nice."

It's like a scene straight from a fairytale. It was lovely to see your girlfriend's eyes reflect the sun as she sat right in front of you.

"You are staring," she said. You did not respond to her right away - instead, you kissed her cheeks and grinned.

"Of course, I'm staring, pretty girl."

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x reader #dior goodjohn #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy series #pjo fluff #wlw #gxg

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eomayas · 11 months

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all the rumors are true • bbh

pairing: idol!baekhyun x f!idol!reader

genre: fluff & angst

synopsis: your secret relationship with baekhyun getting revealed, and what comes after.

warnings: none!

a/n: very self indulgent lmao i had this thought a few days ago and needed to get it out! the ending is a bit choppy i ran out of thoughts. heavily unedited and not proof read 🫣

“yes, i take care of all of them,” you laugh, nodding at the radio show hosts question about if it’s hard being a leader to a group of 4, including yourself. “especially our youngest.” you say, glancing over at sunny, the baby of your group.

“what’s the age difference between you and her?” the host asks.

“six years,” you say, making the host gasp.

“ah, so you’re 28… that means she was 16 when you debuted?” the host looks between you and sunny, both of you nodding. “wow, so you probably have had no time for dating since even before debut!”

you laugh, though it’s 90% true, which sucks. “yes, because she was so young when we were trainees—we all were—i was always with them to make sure they stayed out of trouble and weren’t around strange people,” you say, your eyes sliding over all of your members. “so, no, there hasn’t been a lot of time to date. but i’m not mad at that because i was taking care of my babies.” everyone chuckles at the last bit and mingwa puts her head on your shoulder.

“y/n needs somebody to take care of her!” heejin, the second to youngest member shouts. you smile and shake your head at her words, though they’re unbelievably true. if only the public knew that you were, though. that instead of laying your head on a soft pillow every night, you lied down on a hard chest and let strong arms hold you tight, while soft kisses on the top of your head lulled you to sleep.

“girl, i’m your candy,” sunny sings quietly. you don’t cut your eyes at her immediately, but the panic bubbles in your chest. nobody mentions her singing, or sings along, but sunny and mingwa share a quick look that freaks you out, makes you paranoid that in a few hours when the video recording of this session is posted, speculations will start.

you glance at sunny, hoping to catch her eye, but she’s engrossed in what the host is talking about. you can barely hear above your heartbeat in your ears, the blood rushing through so quickly it’s starting to give you a headache. you try to discreetly regulate your breathing, trying to remember those videos talking about square breathing that you found online. nobody seems to notice, except mingwa who taps your forearm and looks at you with concern that you brush off.

you manage to make it through the rest of the interview as normal as possible. you start talking a lot less, letting your members share more about themselves and the group, and nobody except for mingwa clocks that you were mentally somewhere else.

saying your goodbyes, the four of you get up and shuffle out of the radio station and into the outside world where dozens of cameras await. the shutters fly at rapid pace, and the flash on some of them are nearly blinding, but you and your group smile and pose, despite the chaos happening.

shuffling into the car, you let the three others get inside first. you take the last seat in the sprinter van and buckle yourself in, resting your head against the headrest. “y/n, are you alright?” mingwa asks, concern clear and evident in her voice. you let out a breath and sit up, turning around to look at sunny.

“why did you start singing ‘candy’, soojin?” you ask, using her full name. she looks at you with wide eyes at her government being called and holds her hands up in surrender. “do you know what people are going to say?”

“sorry, mom,” she shoots back, giving you an incredulous look. “all they’re going to say is that i’m acting exactly like how the youngest person is supposed to be acting—interrupting you and singing over everybody. nobody is going to say anything about you and baekhyun.” you press your lips together, stumped because she’s most likely right, even though you have an inkling in the back of your brain that somebody is going to take notice, and make something out if it.

“well, you don’t really want people thinking you go around interrupting everybody,” you chastise. sunny rolls her eyes at you and sighs dramatically.

“we are quite literally the perfect group—i don’t know why you are so worried about our image all the time,” she says. you decide that the conversation is over, and sit facing forward again. sunny doesn’t understand that everything, at the end of the day, falls on you. people look at you like you birthed these girls and raised them up yourself. if one of them screw up, it falls on the entire group but rests on your shoulders to clean up. your image is so important to uphold, because there has only ever been one scandal to your groups name at the beginning of your careers that you did everything possible to stop the public from shaming you and the girls. it’s not easy to do that.

the ride is silent, save for their nails tapping against their phone screens. you sit with your eyes closed and your head leaned back, ready to dive into bed and maybe call baekhyun. maybe.

“would it really be that bad if everybody knew about you and baekhyun?” sunny asks, cutting into the silence. you open your eyes, but don’t turn around. the hair on your arms stands up at his name being mentioned so loudly, somewhere that isn’t the safety of your dorms.

“yes,” you reply. you think about the uproar it would cause, and what it would do to your career. his would be fine, of course, because the dismissal is never the same for men as it is for women. your group would probably have to disband, or you’d have to leave. it would look terrible, especially since you are the leader, if this was public news. “it would be awful, sunny. i cant lose my career over a man.” and while a nasty pang of guilt rips through your chest, it’s the truth.

“but… you told me you think that you love him. that’s not enough?” when she says these words, it’s like she’s 16 again, asking you why the world was mad at your group for a rumor about heejin. her voice is small, naive almost, and it reminds you how far apart you two really are.

you can’t help that your eyes start to water. “soojin, can we talk about this later?” you ask, blinking back the tears. you swallow thickly and pull your headphones out of your pocket, turning up your music loudly to block out any thoughts of you and baekhyun, and the public finding out.

getting back to the dorms, you head straight for your room. you close the door behind you and pull out your headphones and sigh, your head pounding. flopping onto the bed, you bury your face in the pillows and close your eyes.

you’re disrupted by a knock only moments later, and you let out a breath before telling whoever it is to come in. “y/n?” sunny’s voice calls from the doorway.

“yeah?” you roll over and sit up on your elbows to look at her. she gives you a sheepish smile and comes over to your bed, crawling in bed next to you like she used when you guys were trainees and she kissed her family.

scooting over, you make space for her to rest her head on your shoulder, your arm wrapping around her. “sorry for earlier. i guess i’m just trying to see the positive side to it,” sunny says.

“it’s fine,” you sigh. “i’m just super paranoid.”

“is baekhyun?” she asks.

you shake your head above her. it’s amazing to you that he seems to have no qualms or fears about your relationship becoming public. he’s fine with it being a secret or being news, and it makes you feel like shit, like it looks like you’re afraid of being seen with him. though it’s far from that. “no, and i guess that’s what makes me more stressed out. because he’s too chill about it, and doesn’t seem to be worried.”

“he’s old,” sunny snorts and you chuckle. there’s only four years between you and him, so she’s technically calling you old too, but you don’t say anything. “are you gonna tell him you love him?” she asks after a beat of silence. you still against her and she lifts her head to look at you.

it’s a sensitive subject—you and baekhyun haven’t said it yet. you won’t say it, because you’re afraid it’ll open a dam of bad things starting to happen. like once it’s out in the open, the worst possible thing could happen to your relationship. “maybe. i don’t know. probably not,” you ramble.

sunny gives you a sad look and squeezes you into a hug. she doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, but enough passes between the two of you. i’m here for you, she says. i know, you say back.

baekhyuns hands are on your ribs, holding you firmly and pressing you flush against the side of his car as he takes you into a nice, soft kiss. your arms snake around his neck, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair at his neck.

his lips move slowly against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. your chest burns with adoration and want, and him tugging you closer to him only makes you throb. pulling away, his mouth chases yours and you let him kiss you again, this time letting him tilt your head back so you’re practically lying against the car.

it’s risky to be out in the open like this, but the parking garage is secluded and for residents of his apartment only. you would see and hear anybody coming through, but so far you haven’t in the last seven minutes.

you pull away from him again, and stop his advances by gently pressing your fingers to his lips. “baekhyun,” you say softly. he kisses your fingertips and then your cheek.

“yes?” he says, looking into your eyes with an intensity that makes your knees weak, so much so that you rest your weight against the car.

“can we go inside?” you ask, your fingers dancing on his cheek. he nods and kisses your palm before grabbing it and taking you to the elevators. baekhyun wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, kissing your temple for a long time, all the way until the doors open, and then pulling you down the hallway to his apartment.

he helps you out of your coat and hangs it up. “what do you want to eat?” he asks as you step out of your shoes.

“bold of you to assume i’m hungry,” you tease, but you’re always hungry around him, and you are hungry right now. baekhyun rolls his eyes at you and repeats his question. “i don’t know. chicken? ramen? rice? whatever you want.” you say, kissing his lips. he holds you close for a beat before letting you go so he can get something started for the two of you.

you bound to the living room and sprawl out on his large couch, turning the tv onto one of the many shows you two have started watching together. you get comfortable and pull a blanket over you, snuggling into the cushions while he busies himself with the task of making dinner.

baekhyun comes into the living room with two bowls of food a few minutes later. you sit up and thank him as you accept the dish, crossing your legs and resting the bowl in your lap. “what did i miss?” he asks, and you catch him up on the show in between bites.

you two eat in a close and comfortable silence. he’d probably have his arm around you if it wasn’t uncomfortable while you two were eating. the close proximity is enough though, your knees touching and his right arm lightly bumping into your left.

you set your bowl on the table, ready to get up to get a drink but baekhyun gets up quicker than you, already knowing what you want. he goes into the kitchen and comes back with two glasses of water. it feels like the world is slipping beneath your feet, and you could cry because of him.

this is the taking care of that heejin said you needed. you finally have it—he’s always like this with you, feeding you, making sure you’re well rested and fed and just okay. he takes whatever worries you have and throws them on his back and just lets you be.

after dinner, you and baekhyun retreat to his bedroom. you lie on his bare chest, a hand resting on his stomach and your ear against his heart. baekhyun mindlessy plays with your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp soothingly. your eyes can’t help but flutter close—there’s no point in trying to fight sleep. you’ll wake up with him tomorrow.

the speculations didn’t start the next day. no, everybody thought it was so cute and funny that sunny blurts out random things while her older members are talking. there were compilations made from your groups content; interviews, your group vlogs, and more. it was funny, honestly, that they adored her disruptiveness.

the speculations started four days later. and when the news broke, the internet nearly stopped working because there were pictures and videos. so many pictures and videos, that it felt like somebody may have been stalking you. there were pictures of you and baekhyun kissing against his car, of you two in his car, of you two getting out of his car, of you two going for a late night walk near the han river.

and then there were videos—albeit, mostly can made—that served as proof that you two really are dating. there’s the longing looks shared at award shows, zoomed in videos of you two standing next to each other on stages, hands brushing. the other videos are just more reasons to believe that you two are dating; heejin saying you need to be taken care of, and then clips of baekhyun taking care of his own members. videos of you talking about your ideal type, and clips proving that you must have been referring to baekhyun, or jaír got really lucky that you found him.

it’s overwhelming.

when the pictures surfaced, you and mingwa were in the practice room dancing to your debut songs. the alert popped up on your phones at the same time, but mingwa grabbed hers first. you heard her gasp and ran over, thinking she might’ve twisted her ankle, but instead were met with her guilty eyes and her perfectly fine ankle.

you didn’t know what to do when you saw the photos. your heart stopped and your felt sick. your head started pounding, and it felt like a rug was being pulled from underneath your feet. you didn’t know what to do, so you started crying, falling to the floor in a heap. you weren’t sobbing, but your were audibly crying, and mingwa wasn’t sure what to do. you managed to get yourself together, and excused yourself to your room, avoiding any staff members on your way.

and now you’re on the phone with baekhyun, trying not to burst into tears as he keeps telling you everything will be ok. “baekhyun, this was such a bad idea!” you cry, pressing your forehead into your hand.

“what was? dating me?” he asks, slight offense in his voice.

“yes!” you shout, but you don’t even believe yourself. “w-we shouldn’t have gotten involved.” you’re adding fuel to the fire, hoping he’ll just break up with you so you can say those photos aren’t real, and that you’re not longer dating so everybody can leave you alone.

“you don’t mean that,” baekhyun says, his voice soft on the other line. it makes you feel like shit. “do you?”

you shake your head, though he can’t see you. “no,” you say meekly. “but we- y/n, you knew this could happen even before we started dating.” he interrupts, shutting you up. you press your mouth into a thin line. “don’t try to push me away now, y/n.” the overuse of your first name makes you feel like you’re being scolded by an elder.

“okay, i’m sorry,” you say, sighing. baekhyun parrots you and you press your body into your mattress. now would be the ideal time to tell him you love him, but it feels like it would be a poor bandaid to apologizing for saying that you should have never agreed to date him. “i don’t know what to do.” you mumble.

“let our companies handle it. you just get some sleep,” he says. you chew on your bottom lip, wishing that he was here with you.

“okay. goodnight, baekhyun,” you say. i love you, you want to add.

“goodnight, y/n.”

when you wake the next morning, your group, managers, and baekhyuns team are all in the dorm lounge. you freeze when you see him, ready to jump out of the nearest window because you know exactly what is about to happen. “we need to release a statement,” your manager says, beckoning you over to everybody.

gingerly, you walk over to your girls, sitting next to heejin at the end of the sofa, the furthest you can get away from your boyfriend. “so, i assume it’s true? the rumors about you dating? you can say no, but i’ve seen the pictures,” baekhyuns manager says, looking over at you. you nod, and when everyone keeps staring at you, you pipe up and say “yes”, your voice hoarse.

“great. how long has it been?”

“seven months,” baekhyun says, his eyes flicking to you. heejin gasps beside you, grabbing everybody’s attention.

“oh, sorry!” she says, waving everybody off. “liar!” she whispers. you told her that it’s only been four months.

both of your guys’ managers read from what looks like a checklist of things, asking you questions and scribbling down answers so they can formulate each of your statements.

“are you happy?” your manager asks, not looking up from the sheet. it’s an easy questions, and you both answer ‘yes’ with ease. “are you in love?” the question lodges your heart in your throat, and the room gets eerily silent, so silent that you could hear a pin drop in the next room.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t want to lie, and look terrible, but you don’t want to tell the truth and further complicate your relationship.

you glance over at bakehyun, and find him already looking at you. you know what you’re going to say the moment your eyes meet, and you feel your stomach flip on it’s side. your heart melts like goo in your chest as you say, “yes”, admitting after many long months the one thing that’s been clawing at you in the back of your mind.

your manager scribbles down your answer and turns to baekhyun. “baekhyun?” he asks. his eyes never leave yours, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the room, despite the fact that there’s about 10 feet of distance between you two.

“of course,” he says it so sincerely that you drop your gaze to your lap, your face turning red and a smile overtaking your lips. your group members giggle and elbow you in your side, equally as happy to hear the news.

you feel over the moon, and your past paranoia is put away and shoved into a box that you choose to ignore for a moment. both of your teams curate statements, and they’re sent out less than an hour later. you and baekhyun take the rest of the day for yourselves, driving out far to the beach and hanging there all day until it gets dark, and your teeth start clattering because of the weather. and when you get in the car, he kisses you and you quite literally feel the love has for you, and your brain goes fuzzy to the point where all you can remember is his name, everything else being put to shame.

the responses you get to your relationship are much more positive than you expect, and of course there are negative comments, but not nearly as many as there are of the positive comments. people cnat help but gush at how you found your person, and are finally getting to get taken care of.

but, of course, cameras are on you more heavily than in the past. and now, when you go on variety shows solo, they want to know about your personal life before knowing about the group. you learn to get used to it, giving way to basically nothing, and sometimes sharing more than people expect, when you want to.

like, when you go on a variety show alone with a bunch of other idols, the same show baekhyun had been on in the past, they bring up an interview moment where baekhyun says that you’re the better dresser of the two of you. you’re asked the same question, and you answer baekhyun, and follow up with admitting that you’re wearing his clothes at that very moment. that makes the internet go crazy, searching high and low for pictures of baekhyun wearing the same item, comparing how it’s massive on you but fits him snugly.

or, when you attend the end of the year award shows and exo performs, the camera is on your group more often than you’d like to admit. there are fancams dedicated to your reaction of his groups performances, everybody focused on how you react to baekhyun specifically. of course, the same thing happens to him with you, and he’s a lot more shameless about his support of you.

you group responds well to your now public relationship. you’re able to get all five of you together more often, and they look at him like a bigger brother. sunny often tags along on your dates and asks about baekhyun and genuinely treats him like her uncle. she makes a lot of jokes about the two of you, mainly on camera. like, when you’re filming content for you groups vlog, she asks how baekhyun asked you out, and then sings the bridge of ‘blooming days’ by CBX, and does the dance too. the internet eats that up, constantly sharing the clip because it truly was funny.

despite the public news of your relationship, though, you and baekhyun manage to keep it private. besides what you choose to share, you can easily dodge questions about your private lives and keep the mystery alive. it does help your relationship now that more people know—there’s no threat of getting caught, or the constant feeling of breaking the rules. it’s easier now, and better than ever.

#exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo x reader #exo x you #baekhyun fic #baekhyun x you #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun angst #exo fluff

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quickiesgirl · 7 months

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Hard To Resist - Joel Miller

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Established Relationship, Morning Wood, Handjob, Blowjob, Short Fic, My Shitty Writing.

Kinktober 16 - Wake Up BJ

The morning sun peeked through the hanging curtains as you gradually opened your eyes and adjusted to the brightness that filled the room. You pulled the covers up slightly and snuggled back into the strong pair of arms that held you in a loving embrace, one wrapped around your waist while the other lay beneath your neck and the pillow.

Lustful memories of the night flooded your mind. Seconds felt like minutes as the two of you grappled for each other and began peeling off articles of clothing. You had the whole house to yourselves and took that to your advantage after date night.

You suddenly lose thought when you feel his morning erection bulging prominently into your ass. The same one that’d been pounding you from behind nearly hours ago, forcing you to ride out your fourth orgasm of the night into your fifth.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and began teasingly grinding your hips back into Joel, pussy growing wetter by the second, leaving a trail of warm arousal on his skin, listening as he grunts softly in your ear.

You slipped out of his grasp, careful not to wake him while you lay your hands on his chest, slowly rolling him onto his back and sneaking to the end of the bed, where you reside between his round, hairy thighs. The soft sheets slid down the curves of your hips, uncovering his naked body to your admiring eyes.

Joel looked incredibly peaceful in his slumber, undisturbed with his relaxed body forming perfectly into the mattress, his broad chest rising and falling with ease, and facial muscles relaxed with his slim lips puckered slightly.

You grabbed the base of his large, heavy cock and lower down, pressing a gentle kiss against his mushroomed-shaped tip, swiping away the bead of pre-cum with your tongue, hearing him growl in his slumber.

You take your flattened, saliva-soaked tongue and gradually lick up the underside until you reach the head of his length, where you delicately trace your pointed tongue back and forth, along with your slick, lips grazing into his skin as you simulate his sensitive glans, teasing him endlessly with this action.

Joel shifted against the mattress with his cock twitching from the feel of your pursed lips placing kisses down his protruding veins, to his firm, heavy balls before you gently scooped them into your mouth and suckled lightly. You lace your hand around his member, pumping him a few times while your other one keeps his thighs open for the time being.

Pleasuring noises began to fill the bedroom as his hips shutter beneath your touch. You let off with a wet pop, wrapping your mouth around his tip and engulfing his dick in heat that felt absolutely incredible. Saliva coats his cock while you lower yourself down. Taking every inch until your nose is buried into his pubic mound, gagging lightly when his head strikes the back of your throat.

You cover your arms over his squirming hips, lashes fluttering up at the handsome man as you watch him begin to stir awake. Your cheeks suction around him, feeling his veins pulsate along the underside of his length while you bob your head up and down.

Joel blinked his heavy-lidded eyes open with a slight haziness before an intoxicating moan escaped his lips, “Oh, sweetheart, oh, fuckin' christ…”

He gazed down at your beautiful self and cupped the back of your head, stabilizing himself before raising his hips off the bed, thrusting his cock into your mouth. Cheeks hollowing around him one last time before strings of his sticky, sweet cum cover your tongue, swallowing every single drop with a pleased hum.

With a warm smile, you looked up at the older man with that piercing gaze, hands snaking up his stomach while he caught his stolen breath and settled into the mattress.

“Well, good morning to you.” He spoke in that low, morning voice as you crawled up and laid upon his warm chest, heavy arms lacing comfortably around your body with his softening cock against your plush thighs.

"Morning, handsome." You murmur, grabbing his scruffy, graying chin and tilting his head to the side, allowing yourself more access to place small kisses and bite marks on his inner neck.

"Don't get too comfortable there, darlin’," Joel warned, grazing his fingers along your lower back, feeling your skin prickling under his touch and your body squirm ever so slightly.

"Why do you say that?" You ask, feeling his calloused hands grab your hips firmly and his knee tuck between your thighs before swiftly rolling you over.

You gasped, eyes broadening as you looked up at the rugged man hovering over you, pressing into your heated core while he leaned down, purring in your ear sensually, "Cause I'm ‘bout to devour this sweet little pussy."

Joel Miller Smut Taglist: @cutesyscreenname

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller hbo #joel the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #quickiesgirl writing

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plooto · 5 months

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⋆˙✧⋆｡ kinkmas day 7 — under the table / blanket ｡⋆✧˙⋆

warnings ❆. rda ! jake , recom ! reader , no plot , whiny ! pussy drunk ! jake , watersports (?) , size kink if you squint , voyeurism , p i v .

now playing : this christmas ; jackson 5

1:01 ──|─────── 2:16

volume : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯

“ fuck- y’gotta be quiet baby girl- ” you clenched around him, his fingers gripping at you hips through the blanket as you grind your hips against his, clit brushing against his hips in just the right way. a whimper left your lips as he hit the deepest parts of you, tilting your hips just the right way to leave you seeing stars.

“ oh- s’that what you want huh? y’want prager to wake up don’t you? ” he asks, shifting his feet flat on the bed, thrusting you up higher, pulling you down firm against his hips.

your toes curled as you scratched at jakes chest through his tank, unable to contain the moan that left your lips,

“ want him to see you all fucked out on my cock? -yeah baby. ” he grunts, thrusting into you with unwavering strength, you cursed, feeling heat pool in your stomach as he hits the spongy part deep inside you. you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to hide the sinful noises from jake’s sleeping roommate. his hips drop back down against the bed, shifting your foot awkwardly,

“ wha- ” he adjusts your feet for you, hugging you to his chest,

“ c’mere ” he grunts, pistoning his cock in and out of you roughly. your hands pinned to his chest, you bit down on his shoulder to muffle the sound coming out of you as he hit the deepest parts of you.

“ fu-ck baby you feel so good, so wet- ” he whines haphazardly you felt your pussy throb as he ruts into you, rolling his hips so deep—so slow. low whimpers leaves his plumped lips as he mumbled,

“ fuck. i can’t- ” he pauses for a moment, flipping you beneath him and pressing a finger to your clit. your eyes crossed, hips moving on their own as they tried to meet jake’s needy thrusts. “ yes. shit- just like that baby. just like that. ” you didn’t care how loud you were—nothing could ever have prepared you for seeing the blinding bright lights of pressure—falling over the edge head first, shaking with the sheer impact of your orgasm. you claw at jake’s back as the blanket threatened to fall off your curled toes.

jake angles his hips, hitting that spot with every deep stroke; you shuttered. you knew something was coming fast—forming in your tummy much faster than what you were used to. you wanted to warn him, but as he rolled into your hips at practiced angles, the shrill of pleasure shot up your spine—coating his hips and the bed sheets by far.

“ shit baby i’m- ” he came with a low growl, stilling his hips against your as he pumped his seed deep inside you. pulling out only to fuck the drops back in you. your breath slowly returned to you as you felt him fill you full of his warmth.

( lost in your own world of pleasure, neither of you noticed prager wasn’t as still as before—he was awake.

squeezing his eyes shut as he thrusts into his hand, the other hand giving him something to bite down on when the sounds got louder—when you squirted on jake.

neither of you noticing that another orgasm happened at the same time. )

tags -> @luvv4j4ybe11

x . the song i originally chose was i saw mommy kissing santa claus but i thought that would be too telling ? and also tumblr posted this on thanksgiving 😃

#atwow jake x reader #dilf jake sully smut #atwow jake #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully #atwow smut #atwow jake sully #tteokbokki 🌶️ // spicy #avatar12daysofkinkmas #. character // jake sully

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

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Something to Fight For (series) Part 16

I'm sorry I can't go to the rehearsal this weekend," Paul tells you Monday morning at the two of you prepare for work. "Wish I didn't have to go to this stupid work mixer."

"It's no problem," you assure him through bites of omelette. "Just enjoy and get to know the people you'll be working with."

Paul takes a deep swig of grapefruit juice, watching you over the glass. You're distant, your eyes unfocused.

"Then again I don't even know if I should be going to the fucking wedding," Paul says with a shake of his head. "You saw her face when I told her we were engaged."

Your unfocused look is gone, replaced with concern.

"Paul. That's not fair," you explain patiently. "She was just surprised. Everyone was."

Including you. The agreement was not to share the engagement with everyone until after the wedding. You'd wanted to tell Maria at most, in private.

But Paul had been so excited, he explained later that day when a trip to the ER confirmed that he had a bruised jaw. So overjoyed to share his love with the people you cared about most.

"She wasn't surprised," Paul replies glumly across the table from you. "She was pissed off."

"Why would she be pissed off, Paul?" You falter, your eyes avoiding his because you know exactly why Maria is upset. The same reason you've been staying at Paul's place since the party and Joel’s punch.

"Because she doesn't like me," Paul answers flatly. "Hasn't really liked me since we got back together."

"I think she's just gonna miss me living with her," you say quickly not wanting to get into things. "Emotions are just running high with the wedding coming up."

Paul's face shows that he doesn't believe you, but he lets it go. His handsome face is slipping into a smile, his hand coming to rest over yours. Your hand twitches under his heavy grip.

"Well hopefully she gets over it. She and Tommy are always welcome to come visit us in Leander."

///

Monday morning, after the most miserable Sunday in recent existence, Joel calls you. He knows you won't answer if you know it's him so he calls your work, his fingers tight around the landline as it rings.

"Austin Rescue."

Joel is shocked when you pick up your phone after the first ring. It's still early in the day. At the sound of your voice he feels his eyes shuttering.

"Hey."

There’s a soft inhale followed by the sound of you sucking your teeth. You're irritated he called you at work where you can't see who calls you.

"What do you want, Joel? I'm busy."

"Listen," Joel begins, his voice lodged in his sternum. "I need t- I wanna apologize for what happened on Saturday."

"I really don't wanna hear your excuses," you interrupt lowly. "If it weren't for Sarah I would have hung up the second I heard your voice."

Joel just stares into middle distance, his large eyes glittering.

"I made a promise to always be there for Sarah and I intend on keeping it," you explain in a tight voice. "So I'll talk to her on the phone anytime. Maybe you can bring her to a park and I can meet her there. Or if you're comfortable with it maybe I could take her to the arcade or somewhere she'd like."

It takes everything in Joel to stay focused, to swallow the thick knot in his throat, his eyes shut.

"So, you're just never gonna come to my place again?"

He wishes that didn't sound so needy, so devastated.

"Paul isn't comfortable with me in your house."

This changes something in Joel's disposition. His back goes straight and his eyes narrow. His grip on the phone tightens.

"What? Why?"

"He says you're violent," you reply evenly. "And after you punched him in the face for no reason at Sarah's party I'm inclined to agree."

Joel's blinking at that because it's as if you've punched him across the jaw. Then all at once the wounded look is gone from his eyes, replaced with a hard shell.

"You know why I punched Paul?" Joel rasps. "Because he was thanking me for letting you spend time with Sarah. He thanked me for it because he said that now you'd be more open to getting knocked up."

He hears nothing but silence on the other end of the phone.

"So are you?" Joel demands even though he knows it's not his place. "You gonna ride my thigh and come for me and then go marry Paul? Have his kids?"

More silence. Only the faraway sounds of someone typing and muted barking from outside of what he assumes is your office window.

"You tell Paul yet by the way?" Joel asks you, his voice the sharpened edge of a steel blade. "You tell him how wet you were for me in my kitchen?"

He hears the catch in your throat, the shameful way you swallow. He doesn't need to see you to know that you're blushing, your eyes on the ground.

"No."

"Right," Joel says with a scoff. He can hear the recrimination; almost feel your temper rising over the phone.

"Oh and I'm supposed to believe that you told Tess?"

"I told her we kissed before Sarah's party."

You're shocked by this, so shocked you must momentarily forget to be angry at Joel because your voice has lost its chilly edge.

"She... What did she say?"

"Doesn't matter," Joel replies, looking grimly down at his feet. "None of it fucking matters."

Before he can continue Sarah appears around the corner, holding Toad. She looks up at her father to see his mouth set in an angry line.

"Daddy what's wrong?"

"Nothing babygirl," Joel says, clearing his throat. "Just talking to a friend."

"Is that Sarah?" You ask over the line and Joel can actually hear you soften. "Can I talk to her?"

Joel looks to Sarah staring up at him and tells her it's you. She smiles widely and he helps her into the chair next to him before handing her the phone. She takes it, not used to people calling for her so this feels momentous.

"Hello?"

"Hi bug," you say warmly when you hear her little voice come through the line. Joel can hear you faintly from where he sits and hearing the sweet nickname makes him blink rapidly. "Any chance you wanna go for ice cream this week?"

Sarah's large hazel eyes are stuck on her dad, looking at him warily even as she speaks to you.

"Can daddy come?"

Joel's face drops a fraction at Sarah's request, bracing himself. He hears you stutter on the other line.

"I uh, thought maybe we could just do a girls day," you say, trying to sound jovial. “Just you and me.”

Sarah had smiled at the first sound of your voice on the phone and she is normally so excited, so eager to spend time with you. But right now she can't stop looking at her dad who tries to smile at her but only manages to crack a weak curl of his mouth.

"Go on, babygirl. You can say yes."

Large hazel eyes scan his face slowly before Sarah shakes her head.

"No, thank you."

You're both taken aback by the clarity in her young voice. You can hear her place the phone down on the kitchen table before Joel brings her into his arms, giving her a quizzical look.

"Since when don't you want ice cream?"

Sarah toys with one of the buttons on her father's shirt. She shrugs non committal.

"She wants to see you, Sarah, your favorite person."

Sarah shakes her head, unseen by you.

"You're my favorite person, daddy."

Joel feels his chest tighten at that and he gives her a watery smile, his large hand dwarfing her cheek as he cups it.

"And you're mine, babygirl."

He presses a kiss to her forehead. Sarah looks at the phone sitting there on the table for a moment and Joel's thinks she's going to say something else to you but she only looks back to him.

"Daddy I wanna go watch Beauty and the Beast."

A still shocked Joel lowers Sarah to the ground so she can scamper off to the DVD collection. Joel watches after her a moment before picking up the phone in confusion.

"I don't know what happened," Joel starts. "She uh-"

"It's okay," you say with a tremble in your voice that he can hear over the line. "It's fine. Just tell her that I love her."

The phone goes dead.

///

Things feel bad.

Sarah sits watching Chip dancing with Belle but Sarah isn't focused on that. Her mind is still back in the kitchen with Daddy.

She came into the kitchen moments ago to see her big strong father collapsed in a chair, his head in one hand, the other pressing the phone tightly to his ear.

Daddy's eyes are so sad today. He doesn't smile right when he looks at Sarah and hands her the phone. His voice sounds funny when he urges her to go for ice cream.

And even though Sarah wants to go with you for ice cream, she doesn't want her daddy here at home alone.

She hears her daddy talking to you in the other room, his voice a low murmur before he hangs up.

She hopes he won't call miss Tess for a playdate. Sarah is sick of Daniel and her. Sick of her too-tight hugs and teeth-baring smiles. Sick of Tess' whispers about how she can't wait to take Sarah to the mall and spend some one on one time together. (No thanks).

Sarah doesn't want to go with Tess anywhere. She just wants you here.

Sarah really doesn't like it when Tess asks about you. When were you last here? Do you and Daddy spend a lot of time together? Does daddy talk about you a lot?

Sarah never answers Tess. It feels like a trick. It feels weird that she asks that at all.

Sarah thinks of the photo under her pillow. The one she'd asked Auntie Maria to print out for her. The one she has been looking at and talking to each night since her birthday.

When will the three of you be together again? She's tired of waiting.

Sarah's attention is drawn back to the dancing cutlery on the screen and these thoughts fade, leaving her for now.

///

You leave work that day and you need to speak to someone. The gentle rejection of Sarah is playing on your mind. The information Joel shared with you about Paul.

It's all too much.

You need to talk to someone. Maria and Tommy are busy with wedding stuff. Your mom has her hands full and Alex is just a coworker. It's this which has you stumbling up the stairs of your neighbors house, ringing the doorbell with a desperate intensity.

Please be home. Please be-

Bill opens the door, his brows tight in the middle. He's dressed in a threadbare t-shirt with holes around the collar.

"What?'

"Can I talk to Frank?"

"He's at a gallery opening," Bill replies. You think he's going to tell you off for bothering him during his time of solitude but then he tilts his head to better peer into your face. "You been crying?"

No point in lying. "A little."

"Better come inside, then."

You watch Bill turn on his heel for the kitchen, pausing when you don't immediately follow. His face shows extreme irritation at you hanging back, unsure.

"You're letting bugs in. Come in and close the fucking door."

Bill and Frank's house always smells like how you'd imagine the inside of a small French bakery to smell. Cinnamon and coffee some days, peppermint or bread others. Today as you follow Bill inside towards the kitchen it smells of sweet confection, like icing sugar and vanilla.

You glance at the counter, your eyes drawn to the paper there. It's a sketch of a three tiered cake, forest themed. Your eyes widen at the detail.

"Whoa what is all this?"

"Your friend's wedding cake. Well, a sketch of an idea I had that Frank did up for me." Bill looks critically at this idea committed to paper before shrugging. "Makin' cupcakes for the rehearsal dinner. Working on the trial batch today."

"They'll be delicious," you confirm knowing it to be true without even seeing them. Everything Bill makes is delicious.

"Here. Test one." Bill points at the table and you take a seat, grateful for the delicious pale pink cupcake he slides to you.

"Strawberry," he tells you with a small quirk of his lips as you bring it to your mouth. "Frank's favorite."

It's heaven. Plain and simple this is heaven in a baked good. Flavors explode in your tongue a mix of sweet and tangy that combines to make your taste buds dance in delight.

"Holy shit."

Bill gives one of his trademark smiles, one so faint you barely see it under his beard. He's pleased. You take another bite, your eyes closing as the onslaught of divine taste overwhelms you. It's like you can actually feel love in every bite.

Bill takes a seat across from you, watching your closed eyes and the serene look on your face. He almost hates to interrupt it.

"So why the tears?" Bill says cutting down to the business at hand.

You can tell this is already painful for him and a part of you wonders if this is Frank's influence. You can almost imagine the slender man giving Bill detailed instructions on what to do if one of their neighbors comes over in a panic.

"Uh, I don't. . . "

You look back at your cupcake, thinking that if you just take another bite it will buy you time. Bill seems to sense this because his beefy fingers are on the delicate china, pulling it back to his side of the table.

When minutes tick by and you still don't explain he gives a soft exhale through his nose.

"Just say it."

"Say what?"

"You got feelings for that contractor. Joe."

You stare open-mouthed at Bill.

"Joel," you finally correct him. "And no. Why would you say that?"

Bill gives an impatient sigh, drumming his wide fingers on the table.

"Last time you were here. Seemed pretty obvious to me."

"Bill, I'm engaged to Paul. I'm moving in with Paul. My life is with Paul."

Bill heaves another heavy sigh, rubbing at his face as if he's having the most painful interaction of his life. Knowing Bill, this may just be true.

"Paul's a fucking dud."

You bark out a laugh at Bill's sharp appraisal. Then you immediately sober, guilt going through you.

"Bill-"

"I don't understand," Bill says and you can tell its earnest. "You care for each other. I could see that plain as day when you were here with him."

"He's with someone else. So am I."

Bill nods, his face unreadable. It’s the kind of face that holds no emotion, good or bad. The kind of face you feel you can speak to without judgment.

"Even if we both were single I just don't think I'm good for Joel," you say looking at your lap. Bill’s chair creaks as he tilts forward.

"You want him?"

"Of course I want him," you finally say, your voice trembling as you say it out loud. "But Tess makes so much more sense for him. She has a kid; she'll be a natural mother to Sarah. And I've hurt Joel. I've hurt him in ways that he doesn't deserve."

Bill is quiet at this, regarding your splotchy face. He doesn't know you as well as Frank might, he doesn't even know your last name, but there's something in you right now that reminds Bill so much of himself it shakes him.

It's why he doesn't roll his eyes or tell you to quit with the hysterics. It's why he folds his hands on the table and fixes you with a look a father would give a daughter and says your name real quiet until you finally look over at him.

"I used to own that hardwood shop on Lamar Blvd, years ago. Frank used to come in to get spirits for his oil painting. First time I met him I thought he was fucking annoying. Talked too much."

You give Bill a watery smile. Yes, that sounds right to you.

"But I figure this guy'll never come back and I won’t have to suffer the headache, plus he was buying lots" Bill continues, his voice laden with faux irritation. "So I put up with him. But then next month he's back. More supplies, more talking. And he does this for a year. A full fucking year of me grouching at him while he yammers on about everything under the sun until one afternoon I can't stand it and I just kiss him to shut him up."

Your eyes are wide, your heart pounding as you imagine this. You try to envision Bill and Frank a decade ago, younger, softer.

"Then of course I pretend it was nothing. I hid. Didn't want everyone knowing I was into guys," Bill explains. "Two years we danced around it. Two years of secret meetings in hotels and then stretches of silence. Two years of pushing and pulling and we couldn't stop. Each time we thought we should just walk away it was just seeing each other and. . ."

Bill raises his hands between you circling the air as he tries to explain this connection, this deep abiding love but he can't. Words aren't enough for it.

"I couldn't understand why he was always coming back. I thought Why is this guy still after me? Why would he want me? I'm a grumpy asshole who hates people. But Frank kept coming into the shop, kept breaking down those walls and then one day you know what changed?"

You shake your head.

"I thought Frank is a smart guy. Smarter 'n me in a lot of ways. So if this smart guy is telling me he wants me, why am I so arrogant to assume he's wrong or that I know better?" Bill twitches a brow as he looks at you. "Now I don't know Joel all that well, but I can tell he's a man who knows his own mind. So if you tell him how you feel he'll be honest back. But maybe you're worried about what you'll hear, good or bad."

“It’s not just that.”

You will the tears back. You swallow them. You blink them away when they try to sneak out the corners of your eyes.

"There's an ugliness in me, Bill," you finally say with a catch in your voice. "Something that makes me want what I shouldn't. A really ugly selfishness."

You think back to Joel in your arms, his mouth on yours. You think of how he looked above you, his eyes open and beautiful. And you remember that this was stolen time. Stolen from another woman, a better woman.

"Is it the same thing that made you bake cupcakes for his kid? Or spend hours of your time with her?"

You're silent at this appraisal.

"Is it the way you put yourself in shitty situations just so your friend can be happy?" Bill notices your look of surprise. "Yeah, Frank tells me a lot."

You've never had Bill talk to you this long. You can't stop staring at him.

"Or maybe it's the way that you probably love this man more than you want to admit and you'd still stay away from him because you think he'd be happier without you," Bill finishes. "Is that the selfishness you're talking about? Because if it is, I think you might be fucking insane."

When the sobs suddenly overtake you, Bill doesn't rush to hug you. It's not his way.

Instead he watches as your body curls, your head held in your hands. As you let out all the ugly you've been holding in, Bill's hand comes to rest on your shoulder patting softly.

"Don't make the same mistake I did," he urges you. "Tell him soon. Don't wait."

How can you explain to Bill that it isn't that easy? That he and Frank fit like pieces from a long lost puzzle.

With you and Joel sometimes it seems intrinsic so fucking fated you could write poems about it. Other days it's so hard you feel handcuffed to a boulder.

Isn't love supposed to be easy?

But then you look at Bill and Frank and their love that takes your breath away and you think on Bill's story. Maybe, just maybe love is something you have to fight for.

But you can't fight for Joel. You can't. You love him and because you love him you know you have to let him go. Joel, flower giving, sweet kissing, patient Joel deserves all the good things.

Paul is what someone like you deserves.

You stop yourself from hugging Bill as he walks you to the door minutes later mumbling about how he'll see you at the rehearsal dinner.

You walk home with puffy eyes and a heavy heart.

#fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #fanfiction #joel miller smut #smut #dad joel miller #joel miller #pedro pascal #STFF #STFF series #Something to Fight For #Something to fight for series #story #Bill and Frank

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heich0e · 1 year

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leave the light on - miya osamu/f!reader (haikyuu!) part 10 in the bff!osamu series tags: childhood friends to lovers, tw instant coffee mention, miscommunication, confessions, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Onigiri Miya closes early on Sunday nights.

It’s not for lack of business—the shop would certainly take in enough revenue to justify staying open regular hours an extra day per week, especially on a weekend. But in the early days of Onigiri Miya, when it was just a one-man show, Osamu needed at least one night that he could count on having off. The workweek business—office workers and students going through their routine hustle and bustle—kept him going, enough so that Sunday nights weren’t a make or break for him, and he was able to start shuttering in the early afternoon once per week.

He remembers those early days. Sweet talking vendors to bring down the cost of produce and haggling with the grubby, bleary eyed men at fish market stalls at the crack of dawn for a deal on the catch of the day. Promising suppliers that he’d be able to get them their money in a couple of weeks if they’d just give him some more time. Standing on the road, because Onigiri Miya was just a street stall back then, trying to coax people in and try his food. To convince them to take a chance on him. He remembers burns on his hands and cuts on his fingers and an ache in his bones that ran so marrow-deep he forgot what it felt like to not be so sore. Sunday nights were the only night he had to relax. The only night he had to sit down, to take off his hat, and to have a beer—or, even more frequently, pass out on his couch in his uniform at 8pm and sleep right through to his alarm the next morning.

Closing early on Sundays had been your idea, way back when— suggested to him gently while he rested with his head in your lap in your tiny student apartment after another 16 hour workday. He still remembers the worry in your eyes as you brushed his hair back from his tired face.

Nowadays things aren’t so hectic. Osamu’s got a good team of people around him to help Onigiri Miya run smoothly—a team who he trusts and values. It doesn’t all fall onto his shoulders in the same way that it used to: he doesn’t have to be there for every open and every close, his bills are paid, he’s not fighting to lure people in off the street just in the hope that he can scrape by for another week.

Now when he closes early on Sunday, it’s more for the sake of his staff than anything else. Occasionally Osamu will take the night off, too; he’ll go home and catch up on housework, run an errand or two, or even grab dinner—usually with you, though evidently not so much lately. But most Sundays he stays behind after his last employee heads out for the night; locking up behind them, switching off the sign in the window to tell the world the shop is closed, and then holing himself up in his office to do some admin. He’ll grab a plate of whatever’s leftover from the day’s service and a cold can of beer from the fridge, put on a rerun of Atsumu’s game from the night before, and get to work shuffling through the paperwork that he’s left to pile up over the past seven days.

Osamu hates paperwork.

It’s not that it’s particularly challenging work—the really hard stuff is left to his bookkeeper after all. It’s just tedious, a mindless task in many ways, and he always finds his thoughts drifting as he sorts through invoices and inventory registers: catching himself being inattentive halfway through a spreadsheet, and having to force himself to go back to the beginning just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything in his carelessness.

You used to help him with this kind of work, or at least keep him company while he got through it—sitting on the lumpy couch crammed into one corner of his little office and pretending like you weren’t asleep each time Osamu caught you with your eyes closed. More often than not, he’d throw his jacket over you to keep you warm while you napped and then rush through the last of his work so that he could wake you up and get you home. But just having you there on those late nights was enough for him; your presence was the thing that helped.

Coffee is his only saving grace, these days.

Samu shuffles out to the front of the shop on one such Sunday evening, taking off his baseball cap and ruffling the hair underneath tiredly. He’d finally gotten a trim, and he’s glad that things feel a bit more normal again as he rakes his fingers through it—his mother had been right when she remarked that it was getting too long the week before. He tosses his hat down on the front counter of Onigiri Miya, rounding the end to grab a sachet of instant coffee from behind the bar where he keeps his emergency stash.

The overhead lights in the shop are off, but there’s enough brightness filtering out from the still-lit kitchen that he doesn’t need to struggle to see as he prepares himself some hot water to add to the mug in front of him. He tips the granulated contents of his instant coffee sachet into the bottom after ripping it open with his teeth, tapping the empty plastic packaging against the edge of the cup to make sure it all comes out. The kettle behind him hums quietly as it heats to boiling, and Osamu sighs, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

He stares out at the restaurant—his restaurant, as hard as he still finds it to believe some days—his gaze sweeping over the tables with their corresponding chairs resting atop them. One of the staff had mopped the floors at the end of the night, which left them still slightly wet and glistening. There’s light filtering in through the front windows from the streetlights and the other shops that line the Osaka street outside, and their glow catches in the water that hasn’t yet dried from the tile.

Osamu’s eyes suddenly snap up to the glass that lines the front of the restaurant.

There’s a silhouetted figure—so familiar he could trace it even with his eyes closed, from memory alone—standing on the other side of the door.

Osamu blinks, thinking that the paperwork must have finally gotten the best of him, or maybe that the beer he’d had earlier is inexplicably hitting him too hard. But no matter how many times he squeezes his eyes shut, the familiar shape stays where it is on the other side of the glass each time he opens them again.

His heartbeat thumps, loud and wet, in his ears.

Like the shot of a gun, the man stumbles gracelessly into action: loping around the end of the bar and slipping slightly on the wet tile as he heads towards the door. He fiddles with the lock as he struggles to unlatch it, accidentally trying to force it the wrong way in his haste before eventually getting it right. When he finally throws open the door, a gust of cool night air flooding into the restaurant along with it, he takes in a deep, gasping breath.

“Hey.”

His voice is shaky when he greets you—mostly air and very little shape to the word.

You stare at him from a few paces away, your arms crossed firmly over your chest and a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth. Osamu thinks you look pretty when you’re mad. He always has. But it’s worse now because he knows all too well that he shouldn’t—because he knows you’re mad at him.

You seem to have something to say, he can tell as much from the almost spiteful glint in your eyes, but you stay tightlipped as you simply stare at him.

“D’ya… wanna come in?” Osamu asks, still holding the door open. He nods his head back into the shop. “Still got some stuff prepped, I could make ya—“

“You’re a jerk.”

Osamu blinks, taken aback.

“Yeah,” he agrees plainly after a moment, thinking it’s only fair of you to say given then circumstances.

His concurrence only seems to upset you more.

“Like, you’re a real asshole, y’know that?” You’re nearly spitting you’re so angry, your features twisted up in contempt. Your arms uncross and drop down to your sides, and Osamu watches as your hands ball into fists. He’s the one who taught you how to throw a punch, years and years ago now, and he’s wondering if he’s about to experience a practical demonstration of his teaching abilities firsthand.

“I don’t necessarily disagree.” He nods, agreeing with you once more, though this time his response is slower, more hesitant—not because he doesn’t mean it, but because he’s not sure that it’s what you want to hear.

“Ugh!” Your following exclamation is loud, and palpably frustrated, all but confirming his suspicions. “You…!”

Your tone is climbing with every passing second, and Osamu looks furtively up and down the road around the two of you. It’s late in the evening but there are still a few people out, and he sees heads turning in your direction at the commotion.

“Hey,” he says, his own voice dropping in volume but still pleading all the same. “My name’s on the door and we’re gettin’ some weird looks. I wanna hear everythin’ you have to say, but could you please just say it to me inside?”

You look at him blankly, your lips puckering into a petulant, unhappy pout. You seem like you want to say no, to keep causing a scene, and for a second Osamu really thinks you’re about to round in on him again. Instead you trudge forward, stomping past him over the threshold of Onigiri Miya.

Osamu hesitates for a moment after you pass, half in shock and half in relief, and then he lets the door swing closed and locks it behind him for good measure—he’s not sure he wants any unsuspecting people coming in search of onigiri and stumbling upon a brawl.

It’s dim in the restaurant when he turns to face you, but he can still see your fury burning in the dark.

Neither of you say anything.

“You can keep goin’ if you want,” Osamu is eventually the first to speak, and he means what he says. This is the least of the punishment he deserves, after all. And hearing you yell at him is markedly better than the silence.

“Martyrdom doesn’t suit you at all,” you mutter sullenly.

Osamu sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I just wantcha to say whatcha came here to say.”

You begin to pace as you work through your thoughts, slowly walking back and forth in front of the counter, picking at your cuticles. You’d put a fair amount of distance between the two of you, and he’s sure it was intentional. Osamu keeps himself confined to the entryway near the door, while you walk a path back and forth along the length of the service counter. His eyes follow every step you take, like a captivated child watching fish at the aquarium.

“I had a terrible dream last night,—” you finally force the words out, your feet stilling against the shiny tile as your pacing comes to a sudden halt.

Osamu decides to just do the right thing and shut the hell up for once, giving you the floor.

“—I was going to buy 30 kilos of rice from Kita-san’s farm—”

That’s a lot of rice, Osamu wants to note, but his lips part to let the words through and then he decides better of it.

“—and I was there, at the farm, and then Kita-san started telling me that you got married and had a baby. A baby, Samu! Kita-san standing there telling me all these terrible things with that big bag of rice in my hands, and I couldn’t even get mad at him because he’s Kita! So I just had to listen to him go on and on and on about the venue and the flowers and the baby name that you picked out. And the more he’d tell me the worse it was, and the bag of rice just kept getting heavier.” Your teeth bite down so hard into your lip as you suck in a breath that Osamu's amazed he doesn’t see blood. “I was hearing all of these things—terrible things—and all I could think was that I should have been there to see all of that for myself. I shouldn’t have been hearing about it from someone else. And I realized that you were living a whole life apart from me, a life that I didn’t know about or get to be a part of, and it just kept getting worse and worse and I woke up and I felt like I was going to scream.”

You’re out of breath by the time you finish your rambling thought, your chest heaving and your eyes wild and your mouth faintly wet. You look to him, and Osamu doesn’t see that same indignation in your eyes anymore, only hurt. He watches as the expression hardens again, whets itself like a blade—sharpened not in anger, but rather in resolve. In resignation.

“That day. I looked for you first.”

Osamu feels lost now. Are you still talking about that dream?

You understand without him saying it, and explain yourself further. “In high school. The day that I kissed Suna.”

Osamu’s stomach drops, all of the blood rushing to his head so quickly that the shop begins to spin a little around him. He can hear his pulse in his ears. He can feel it in his throat. He can’t help the twist of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, writhing and ugly though it may be, at the mere mention of his friend’s name. He doesn’t have the right to feel the way he feels, but it happens all the same.

“I looked for you,” you keep going, like you’ve broken a seal and have to let it all out. Osamu doesn’t dare try to stop you. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He watches on like it’s a conversation that’s happening not with him but rather to him. “You were eating lunch with Tsumu in your classroom. I realized he would have had a fit if he knew that I was asking you and not him. I thought about asking him but…”

Osamu can’t feel his fingers from how tightly his hands are balled into fists at his side. His lungs burn in his chest—the breath he’s holding having long since lost the oxygen his body needs, though he can’t seem to draw in another.

“If it wasn’t you, I didn’t care who it was. So I asked Suna.”

The young man processes your words slowly. Incompletely. Like only every third word seems to register.

“Ya wanted me to be yer first kiss?” It’s not the question he ought to ask you but it’s the one his brain chooses to spit out.

Your reply is frustrated, but with an unmistakably melancholic rasp running through it. “Yeah. I did.”

Somewhere distantly, Osamu recognizes a sharp, stinging pain. An ache as part of him realizes that it could have been him. All along. All this time. Him. But the pain is muted, because part of him—most of him—still doesn’t quite understand.

“I think that was the first time I realized it.”

Osamu watches your face, maps the achingly familiar lines and dips and curves of your features as he tries to read meaning in the space between your words. But he still finds nothing.

“I liked you, Samu. More than I should have. Differently than I liked Tsumu, or Suna, or any other guy.” You laugh, but it’s a hollow, watery sound. “I realized it and it was awful.”

You’re waiting for him to say something, but Osamu is at a loss for words. No, that’s not quite it either. It’s not that he has nothing to say, but that he has everything he wants to say to you. To ask you. But he doesn’t know where to start, or how to sort through them, or even how to will his lips, teeth, and tongue to shape any of them.

“You… Y’know ya don’t have to say this,” his voice is tight, like a rope drawn to secure a knot not unlike the one in his throat, when he finally manages to speak. “Ya don’t have to pretend or convince yourself that you… felt the same as me. I care about ya too much to ever ask that.”

You laugh—a single, sharp, distinctly mirthless ha!—as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “There you go again not letting me have any say, Samu!” You punctuate your exclamation with a frustrated little sound. “Stop deciding things all on your own and just listen to me.”

That shuts him up again.

“I thought I was over it,”—you begin to pace once more, your steps slow and measured—“I really did. I told myself it would never happen and moved on because I never ever wanted to fuck things up between us. Between any of us.

“You told me that you’ve loved me your whole life, but you don’t know if or when something changed. I do. I had a singular moment that I could point to where I realized that if I did or said the wrong thing after that, I could fuck up something that meant more to me than anything else in the world. Even if you felt the same way I did, there’s no guarantee that something like that would work out. But if we tried and it didn’t work, we wouldn’t be able to just go back to how things were. So I told myself that no matter what I wouldn’t. No matter how hard it was or how awful it felt. I could get over it if it meant I never had to lose you. And it was fine. For years it was fine. We were fine. Everything was fine. And then I lost you anyway.”

You suddenly stop pacing and crouch down, your arms winding themselves around your knees as if to comfort yourself.

“That night, when you…” You swallow, and risk a glance up at him. “I don’t think I’m over it.”

Osamu feels like he might die. Maybe he did already. Maybe this is his life passing before his eyes, because it’s always been you anyway.

“But it’s scary, Samu,” your voice is so small, so vulnerable, when you speak to him again. You’re trembling as you hold yourself. “Aren’t you scared?”

Osamu is suddenly reminded of that fall day in the woods, so many years ago now. Reminded of two kids who didn’t know what they were doing. Who didn’t know anything. But who knew each other.

Slowly, Osamu crouches too—his joints cracking in protestation as he drops his body down to your level. Your eyes never leave his.

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. Soft but sure. “‘Course I am.”

You let out a soggy, incredulous laugh, but it somehow doesn’t feel out of place. He watches as you reach up and scrub at your eyes.

“I love you,” Osamu says, because it’s true. Because there’s no other words he can possibly think to say in this situation. Because it’s the only thing that he has in his mind.

You look over at him, sniffling a little, wiping at your running nose with the back of your hand in a way that Osamu absolutely should not find as endearing as he does. “How can you just say it like that? Like it’s so easy?”

Osamu wants to laugh too, like you did earlier, but he worries that the sound might come off as almost hysterical thanks to the misplaced hope he can feel simmering in the pit of his stomach. “Sayin’ it’s the hard part, that’s why it took me so long. But I’ve spent forever lovin’ ya. S’always been the easiest bit.”

You choke back a sob, your head hanging defeatedly as your body slackens. You’re a ghost of the angry little thing that was outside of his door only a few minutes earlier, but more yourself now than Osamu has seen you in weeks.

“What about you?” he poses the question so quietly he might worry you didn’t hear him if not for how silent the dark shop is around you both.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. You’re stalling, trying to buy yourself time that’s run out now.

“Do you love me?” he asks, praying to anyone who’s listening that he’s been a good enough man up until this point to deserve the answer that he wants to hear more than anything else in the world.

“Of course I do,” you say evasively, refusing to meet his gaze. But it’s not the same. It’s not enough.

“But are you in love with me?” Osamu finally dares to ask.

There’s a stretch of the most painful, profound silence that either of you have ever experienced. It goes on for an eternity, though the clock hands in the corner say differently.

You still refuse to look at him, your gaze fixed instead to a point on the wall on the other side of the restaurant. Osamu watches how the light from the windows catches in the tears that cling to your bottom lashes.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, barely a whisper. You speak the confession like it’s the most terrifying thing imaginable. Like it's wretched.

And it is maybe, but Osamu’s never felt happier to hear anything in all his life—he feels a rush of something so visceral and elated flowing through him, he thinks he might pass out.

“Can I touch ya?” he asks hesitantly, his voice thick and unlike its normal tone. He hardly recognizes it as his own.

You peek over at him for the first time, and Osamu revels in the feeling of having your eyes on him. Delights in watching you watch him and knowing that behind the gaze is the same feeling as the one he holds inside of himself. You consider it for a moment, and he doesn’t dare rush you, but eventually—mercifully—you nod.

Osamu inches forward slowly and wraps you in his arms. Your body relaxes into his hold instantly, and he pulls you into his lap on the tiled floor. He holds you so tightly that he’s scared he might break you, but he still can’t find it in himself to be more delicate. You cling to him anyway.

It’s the first time he’s touched you in months, but every inch of you is still known to him. Still familiar in every way that matters. You smell the same. You feel the same. You’re soft and warm just like always. Osamu buries his face into the crook of your neck, and your fingers eventually lift to play with the hair at his nape. He holds you, and holds you, and holds you more—sating a thirst that’s been building for longer than the time the two of you have been apart.

And you let him.

You hold him too, in the same way.

“If I kiss ya, you gonna cry again?” Osamu asks you quietly after a while, his lips brushing against your throat as he murmurs the words.

You snort, your fingers twisting into the material of his t-shirt at his shoulders. Osamu peels himself away from you and looks up, and finds that your faces are so close. Too close, in any other circumstance.

His palm lifts, cupping your cheek in his hand, running his thumb against the smooth skin underneath.

“Shut up, Samu,” you say, a little smile twisting up the corner of your mouth.

And Osamu happily obliges by pressing his lips to yours.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #bff!osamu

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radioactivedotcom · 7 months

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🤖 modular sci-fi 🤖 [conversions] - SIMBLREEN 2023 TREAT 04

you know me, had to make a sci-fi set! and so, here it is. it’s made to be, like the name says, modular in game. the doors are separate packages so they can be opened or closed in the gates/archways. there are ceiling panels, floor panels and wall panels. so just have fun with it!!

– 80 packages –

all lods

bgc

find them by typing [RDC] or Modular Sci-Fi Set in the search bar

credits for 3D models&textures can be found in the description boxes

recolors are very welcome!! (and yes you can include the mesh, in builds as well, as long as there’s NO PAYWALL)

– through here for all my s4 downloads –

tag me if you use!

download: sfs - mediafire (unzip and drop in your mods folder)

––– links not working? try right-clicking and opening in a new tab!

~ have fun ~

{•̴͈ ˔̇ •̴͈}

polygon count and other info under the cut!

Archway 01: 1k - sculpture

Archway 02: 9k - sculpture

Ceiling Fan: 3k - ceiling deco

Ceiling Hatch: 2k - ceiling deco

Ceiling Panels 01-03: >1k - ceiling deco

Ceiling Panel 04: 4k - ceiling deco

Ceiling Panel 05: 1k - ceiling deco

Ceiling Panel 06: 1k - ceiling deco

Column 01: 4k - wall sculpture

Console: 5k - sculpture

Corner Panel 01: 1k - wall sculpture

Corner Panel 02: 8k - wall sculpture

Door Control Panel: 2k - wall sculpture

Floor Hatch 01: 2k - sculpture

Floor Hatch 02: >1k - sculpture

Floor Hatch 02 Doors: >1k - sculpture

Floor Light 01: >1 - light (floor)

Floor Pipe 01: 1k - sculpture

Floor Pipe 02: 1k - sculpture

Floor Trim: 2k - wall sculpture

Fuel Panel: 4k - wall sculpture

Gate 01: 4k - wall sculpture

Gate 01 Door: >1k - wall sculpture

Gate 02: 6k - sculpture

Gate 03: >1k - sculpture

Gate 04: 7k - wall sculpture

Gate 05: 8k - wall sculpture

Gate 06: >1k - sculpture

Ladders: 3k - wall sculpture

Large Doors: >1k - sculpture

Door Panels: 2k - sculpture

Pillar 01: 2k - wall sculture

Pillar 02: >1k - wall sculpture

Railing (Double&Single): >1k - sculpture

Corner Railing: 5k - wall sculpture

Side Railing: 3k - wall sculpture

Small Doors: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Fan: 3k - wall sculpture

Wall Light: >1k - light (wall)

Wall Panel 01: 3k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 02: 4k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 03: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 04: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 05: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 06: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 07: 8k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 08: 4k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 09: 5k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 10: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 11: 1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 12: 1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 13: 2k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 14: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 15: >1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 16: 1k - wall sculpture

Wall Panel 17: 9k - wall sculpture

Wall Pipes: 1k - wall sculpture

Window Panel: 5k - sculpture

Window Shutters: >1k - sculpture

#ts4 #s4 #sims 4 #ts4cc #s4cc #sims 4 cc #simblreen #radioactive cc #this set had been in my wip folder for SO LONG #like nearly 2 years

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igotanidea · 4 months

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Specter: Jason Todd x ghost!reader (pt 1)

Warnings: death of reader (duh!), death and resurrection of the other main character, angst

***

She was his best friend.

His only friend.

More than his friend.

Knowing each other since they were kids running loose on the streets of Gotham forced to tend to themselves.

He chuckled at the memory of their first meeting.

Fighting over few apples and a half loaf of bread she managed to rim from some man while batting her elalashes and making innocent face of a street-starving girl.

Well, she was a street starving girl, but as far away from innocent as they come, of which fact Jason was almost brutally made aware upon trying to steal some of it from her. Gaining a bruised eye and a scratch that left a tiny scar on his arm instead.

A well-deserved scar, cause even after all those years he was mentally cringing at the memory he was actually trying to rob a girl his age of food. Terrible thought. In his defence, he was starving himself.

Fortunately, they somehow came to an agreement and since then, there was always someone to care for and who could take care of them by their side.

Y/N and Jason.

Together even when not.

Inseparable even after that batmobil-tires accident, cause there was no way in hell Jason would start living with the Bruce Wayne and left his best only friend behind.

Nah.

So would anyone be surprised that after a while they actually started falling in love? Or maybe they were in love from the beggining since the apples but never noticed?

The point however stood, obvious to everyone but those two donkey level stubborn young adults.

So apart from a few stolen kisses, helluva blushing, talking through the nights, secret awkward hugs and one attempt at intimacy, nothing—

Ok, you know what scratch that last sentence. A LOT has happened in the span of a few weeks. And it brought them significantly closer. Hoping for more and actually trying to work towards more.

So when Jason, at the mature age of 16 went for another Batman-related mission, he pecked her lips and promised to have the real talk about their future when he gets back.

Spoiler alert: He never did.

And when Batman walked to the Batcave with no Robin to follow him and broke the news it was like Y/N’s heart was gone with Jason’s life.

Torn from her chest since at that moment it stopped beating and everything lost its meaning.

She refused to eat, drink, talk and get up in the morning. Spending her days in isolation or sitting by his symbolical grave since the body was never found.

Withering her young life away at the graveyard.

No one ever told her the truth.

***

Miraculously Jason came back five years later. Completely different than a scrawny kid everyone used to know him. Raging terror upon Gotham for a while before actualy forming some kind of allegiance with the Bats. And at some point, the question had to be asked. And the hard truth had to be revealed.

„Where is Y/N?” he whispered, getting shy, gulit, regret and remorse filling him to the brim as he was searching through the entire manor in search for her.

A few saddened looks were exchanged between his siblings as those words rung in the air.

Oh, no.

„Where the hell is she?!” Jason yelled, ready to punch a wall, hit Dick in the face and beat the shit out of Bruce for keeping something from him.

„Jaybrird—„

„Do not fucking call me that Grayson! Where is my Y/N?!”

„No one told you—„

„She;s dead.” Damian muttered, unaware of the consequences of dropping such a bomb on his brother. „We burried her a year—„

Jason roared like a wounded animal, nearly making the glass in the window shutter.

„DEAD?!!”

„Jason—„

„STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”

„I think you should-„

„YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD BE DOING DICKHEAD!”

The rage creeping inside Jason’s head and heart was suffocating. Beating the post-Pit madness multiple times and seeming neverending. He panted and wailed, wanting to destroy something. Kill someone. Anyone, but preferably the one responsible for Y/N;s premature departure from the world. Set a fire to the manor. Break into the League of Assasin’s headquarters and let them kill him. For good this time. Crawl into the deepest darkest pit and die.

„Jason—„

„WHO DID THIS?!”

„It was—„

„I WANT A NAME!”

„We don’t-„

„I WANT THAT PERSON;S HEAD ON A STICK!”

No matter how hard Dick, Tim, Cass, Steph and Barbara tried to get to him (cause obviously Damian was just watching with curiosity), nothign worked.

„It was an accident.” Bruce muttered, finally joining the family allured by the screams.

„AN ACCIDENT?!”

„A car crash. She was just a pedestian, did nothing wrong. The driver was DUI.”

„SO WHAT?! YOU’RE A FUCKING BILLIONAIRE, YO COULDN’T HAVE PROVIDED HER WITH A GOOD FUCKING DOCTOR!?”

„She died instantly.”

„SHE—„ Jason’s voice broke, all the anger finally subsiding replaced by the pain. „She what- ?”

„I am sorry jason…”

„SHE WAS YOUR RESPONSIBLITY!”

„No, she was your resposibilty Jason. You were the one who befrended her, fell for her, brought her into this life. Should have known better.”

„SHUT UP!”

„She stayed here after you died instead of moving forward, unable to forget you.”

„SHUT THE FUCK UP!” it was impossible to listen to Bruce only fueling up the guilt and pain iside Jason’s heart.

„She—„

„Master Bruce.” Now Alfred came into the scene, preventing another blood bath that were bound to happen between a father and a son. ‘Perhaps we should give master Jason some space now. Miss Y/N’s death took a heavy toll on all of us, didn;t it?”

”Hm.”

„Come Jay. Upstairs.” Cass smiled at him to the best of her abilities „You need rest.”

Hazily he took a few steps forward but didn;t miss Bruce’s pained whisper and haunted expression.

„You’re not the only one who lost her…”

***

It’s been five years since then.

But now, as Jason was standing by her grave it all felt surreal.

Y/N Y/L/N, daughter, friend, prankster.

That last word was something she would laugh at.

But he was not.

Five years. The same amount he was gone, same amount for which she believed him to be dead, visiting his grave.

Did she feel all those feels he was dealing with right now?

Emptiness.

Numbness.

Anger.

And that pressuring what if-.

They could have been happy together. Working though their difficulties and becoming real. Maybe starting a family. Escaping all this shitty vigilantism life pushed them both into.

Destroying both of their lifes.

One cold six feet under, the other cold six feet inside.

„I miss you.” He whispered in the space, putting a buquet of flowers on the ground next to the ledger „You will forever be the one to haunt me.”

With that he turned around, walking away with head hung low and hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Getting back to his apartment.

In which she could have been with him if things were to work out differently.

part 2 : phantom

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd angst #red hood angst

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deliciouskeys · 10 days

Text

Cozy Corner Domaystic prompts #16: Going through immigration and #24: Identity theft.

Guys. Guys, I’ll be honest. I have no idea what possessed me. I think I found these two prompts as some of the most challenging to imagine as a domestic fic, and… my thinking got a little bit too outside the box.

This fic will have an intended audience of about 1 (me). But I want to give major major props to @olliveolly who introduced me to this game and was the one who came up with this That’s Not My Neighbor / Boys crossover AU (with a couple lovely art pieces on the theme). The “lore” of this horror game is very simple. Tell me you don’t see it:

Butchlander. That’s Not My Neighbor crossover/AU. Rated E (why). 3.3k words (why). 2nd person to allegedly reflect the feeling of first-person gameplay (why). Is this domestic fic? Welllllll. It takes place in an apartment complex so it counts, right? Lax interpretation of ‘going through immigration’ but honestly that’s what this game really reminds me of 😂

Another day, another interminable shift working as the concierge in the dreary lobby of this apartment complex. It was exciting at first, sure, what with getting to play the first and last line of defense against the doppelganger monsters that attempt to sneak in every single day. But you’ve just gotten too good at noticing discrepancies. Nothing gets past you anymore. You know every single feature- hell, every single freckle! -of every single resident in the building. By this point you’ve got all their phone numbers memorized, for no better reason than there is simply too much tedium to this job. You find yourself wishing you could actually watch the D.D.D. ‘decontaminate’ the lobby, as they so euphemistically put it, instead of just sitting there twiddling your thumbs behind a pulled down rollup metal shutter after summoning them. You could still make out screams without seeing the brutality, and you knew the D.D.D. employed flame throwers and other serious weapons to deal with these monsters. Sometimes you caught yourself feeling just a little bit of sympathy for the doppelgangers, even though their main goal in life appeared to be to imitate people to blend in and then feed upon human flesh, and your main goal in life was supposed to be to ensure none of them would ever get let in through the locked inner door.

John Gillman comes in through the first door and gives you a tired, nominal wave before fishing around in his pockets for his documents to gain entry. He might be your favorite resident— always polite, always in that clean-cut milkman uniform at least when you happen to see him, because no one really leaves the apartment building outside of work obligations. There’s no nightlife in New York anymore, not with everyone nervous of dark alleys or being alone on the street, especially after dark. When you came over here from London, you certainly didn’t expect to get stuck here during a worldwide apocalyptic event like this that has resulted in curfews and lockdowns. You certainly didn’t expect to get zero action and get a mindnumbing job just to make ends meet. It was probably still more interesting than your gig working as a bouncer back in London, but at least you got fresh air there, and sometimes a date to go home with after closing time. Maybe that’s why you’ve started hyperfixating and daydreaming about one of the residents— the involuntary celibacy is getting to you.

John just always looks uncannily attractive. Maybe it’s that silly uniform that’s easy to fetishize. Maybe it’s because his tired eyes also look like bedroom eyes, or the dark circles function the same way eyeliner would. Why is he always so tired anyway? You know he lives alone up there in F03-02. He never gets any visitors either. How much can a person masturbate, really? There’s a rumor around the building that Becca Saunders’ tyke might be his, but you don’t really see the resemblance, and have your doubts that this didn’t just start as a “sleeping with the milkman” joke that got out of hand. People just like to gossip about single mothers. Things like this shouldn’t be considered scandalous. It’s 1955 for god’s sake!

“Sorry, William,” John says, hurriedly shoving his ID and entry request form underneath the glass so you can take take a look. “Almost thought I left my ID at work.”

“Long day, huh?” you ask without expecting a reply, pretending to scrutinize the documents while making small talk. You know this is John. You’d know him from a mile away. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun. “Looks okay, and you are on the list of people authorized to come and go today. But can you take off your cap?”

John grabs his milkman cap off his head, exposing a mop of blond hair, looking mussed after being under the hat all day. You really wish you could test him, see how far you’d be able to take things before he refused to cooperate. Take off your shirt, John. Gotta make sure it’s really you. You never know these days. But of course you don’t. All you’ll have is your fantasies about breaching every code of ethics and using your master key to gain entrance into his apartment, seducing him, ravishing him right in the middle of what must be a depressing bachelor pad. Give him much darker undereye circles by keeping him up all night. Give this apartment complex a more interesting rumor to spread about the milkman in their midst.

“You’re good to go,” you say and press the green unlock button to let him in. He gives you a wan smile and walks out of view, and you listen to his footsteps ascending the stairs.

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful, only a few people coming and going, and a couple of doppelgängers with laughably strange appearance or bad credentials being dispatched quickly. Or at least it’s uneventful until John walks in, just a little bit past curfew.

“Hey William,” he says, sounding distracted, rummaging in his pockets for his documents as a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. This better be a doppelganger, you think to yourself. But he has both his ID and the entry request filled out correctly. He looks identical to the John that passed by here a couple of hours earlier. This can’t be.

You start dialing John’s number, not taking your eyes off the man in front of you.

John’s eyes widen with alarm when he sees that you get an answer from the other end of the line.

“Yes, hello? John here. I’m not expecting any visitors.”

You hang up pretty abruptly, staring at the John in front of you, searching his appearance for any subtle defect or inconsistency but finding none. Your finger is hovering over the alarm button.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you think I’m someone else? It’s me, William! I swear to god it’s me! I don’t know who you let in earlier, and who’s answering the phone now, but it’s not me up there!”

And shit, you believe him. You must have fucked up. Gotten smug and sloppy. Maybe the doppelganger handed you a fake ID but you didn’t notice because you were too busy daydreaming about fucking him.

“William, please believe me, please!” John is pressing up against the glass at this point, clearly scared that you’re going to quarantine him in the lobby and sic the D.D.D. on him. They don’t tend to ask questions. You’ve never had it happen, but you’ve heard of innocent people getting snuffed out on the mere suspicion of being doppelgangers, the D.D.D. rarely admitting to such mistakes even after the fact.

“Alright, alright, I believe you. I just have to think…” you mumble. “I’ll let you in, but don’t go up to your flat. We have to figure this out.”

John nods frantically and slips into your office after you buzz him in.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, and if you weren’t scared shitless at the moment, you’d probably get a kick out of how vulnerable and scared his expression is compared to his usual tired, impassive one.

“I should call the D.D.D. and get them to go up there,” you think out loud.

“Won’t you get reprimanded?” John asks, and oh how sweet of him to worry about your job when you’ve fucked up so royally and almost gotten him killed with your negligence. Maybe already gotten some of his neighbors killed.

“I just don’t want you losing your job over this— you’re the best concierge we have,” he says and then looks down shyly, as if realizing how strange that concern is.

What is this? Are you dreaming? Maybe you’re just out of your mind with adrenaline, but John sounds like he’s got feelings for you.

“Let’s just go up there and see what’s going on,” he says, and damn he’s persuasive as fuck. You want to go and deal with the mess you made, and protect him.

“I’ll go up there and just check,” you say, hardly believing yourself as you grab the fire extinguisher from the wall as a makeshift weapon. Everyone who was scheduled to return to the building has, so you shouldn’t get any more legitimate people coming through, but you still tape up a note that you’ll be back at your post in a few minutes. “Right then. You just stay down here and wait. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk. If I’m not back in five, call the number on the post-it.”

John shakes his head and follows you up the stairs. “I’m not letting you go up there alone,” he says in that quiet irresistible voice and you start to wonder if there’s something strange going on. Why are you going on this potentially suicidal mission to deal with a doppelganger on your own? So what if you get fired? No job is worth your life, right? But you probably wouldn’t see John ever again if you lost this job and that’s clouding all your judgment right now.

Knocking on John’s apartment door is probably not a good idea, and will just give the monster inside time to prepare or hide. So you take out your master key and turn it in the lock as quietly and quickly as you can. The door swings opens with an ominous creak, revealing a dark living room with no sign of anyone there. Did he hear you coming up the stairs? You try to keep John behind you and shield him in case anything sudden happens from within the apartment, but then you feel a strong push from behind and both you and John are in the flat now.

You’re so stupid, so critically, fatally stupid. The John you let in earlier was the real one. You’ve let a doppelganger convince you that you made a mistake, and now you did let one in. You whirl around, try to hit him upside the head with the fire extinguisher you’re brandishing, but he blocks the move with little effort.

“I thought we agreed,” he says, and you realize he’s speaking not to you but past you to someone else in the room.

“Thursdays are my days,” an identical voice answers from behind you and you step back and try to make sense of what you’re seeing. Two John Gillmans, both in the same uniform, neither one looking the least bit spooked, both looking mildly irritated if anything.

“Since when,” the John who came up behind you asks of the other one. “I get to be here every other day, doesn’t matter what day of the week it is.”

“So now what are we going to do about him?” the John who was in the apartment asks, pointing to you. “Why didn’t you just leave once he called me? Are you stupid?”

Your heart may be racing, but your thinking feels as slow as molasses. They’re …. both doppelgangers?

“What have you done with the real John Gillman?” you whisper hoarsely. The twins turn to look at you and you’re creeped out by the very similar smirk that spreads across both of their faces. They’re really impeccable facsimiles of the real person, but this is an expression you’ve never seen on John.

“You’ve never met the ‘real John Gillman’,” one of them says.

There’s enough cold sweat that’s broken out on your back that it starts to trickle down as drops.

“We like you William. It would be such a shame for our friendship to end.”

You hold up the fire extinguisher in front of yourself defensively, but you’re not sure you can really do anything against two of them. You’ve never noticed before, and maybe the real John’s teeth didn’t look like this, but the two doppelgangers have sharp looking canines when they’re grinning. It’ll serve you right to get devoured in this dark flat for making so many mistakes and bad decisions in a row today.

“So you’re just going to kill me then?” you ask.

“We’d really rather not,” one of the twins says. “A murder would bring a lot of snooping law enforcement if not the D.D.D. Itself.”

“And it’s so hard to find good lodging to spend the night.”

They must be joking. “You really expect me to believe you’re not just here to eat people?”

One of the twins rolls his eyes. “Eat people! Yeah, that’s why we’re here, clearly.”

“Has anyone in this apartment building ever disappeared in all the months you’ve worked here?” the other one asks.

“How should I know?” You’re beginning to feel like this has to be some sick nightmare. You can’t possibly be having a civil conversation with a couple of cannibal monsters. This thought has a strange calming effect on you. “If I didn’t know you lot were masquerading as John Gillman, how am I to know how many other residents are real people?”

The twins turn to each other, still smiling and shrugging.

“We’ve been on a vegetarian diet for a while,” the other says and you can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Laugh all you want,” the other one says, spreading his hands in concession. “But milk is more than enough to sustain us. We do think people are delicious, but there’s one thing we like much more than eating them.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, emboldened by the possibility that you’re just in a ridiculous, paranoid, bad dream of a worst case scenario at your job.

“We’ve been watching you William. We think you’ve been interested in us.”

“We’ve never fucked anyone from this building, and never fucked together, but there’s a first time for everything, right?”

You just stand there, fire extinguisher still raised up defensively. No question about it, this must be a nightmare that’s slowly but surely twisting itself into a sexual fantasy.

“Come on, William. Let’s make you comfortable.”

You can hardly protest as one gently pulls your makeshift weapon out of your loose grip, and the other one sweeps you off your feet with preternatural superhuman ease and carries you over to the couch in this sparsely furnished apartment.

Gentle but insistent hands undo the buttons on your trousers and then maneuver you so they can pull them off completely and free your legs.

“Humans are such fun creatures,” one of the Johns comments when he sees that despite your fear of the situation unfolding right now, you are sporting a half-hearted hard-on. It somehow only gets harder when you hear them talk about people as another species.

Both Johns are still fully dressed, situating themselves to kneel on the floor on either side of you. It’s wild. You must be dreaming. And as you watch both Johns lean forward, extending their tongues and licking your cock up and down from opposite sides, you realize that if this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

They know what they’re doing. They bring you right up to the edge of orgasm and then pull away, leaving you feeling desperate and even annoyed. You’re not annoyed for long though as they both strip down, and you see that their human-mimicking powers are perfect, down to the most minute details that would never be seen under clothes. Granted, you don’t know what John Gillman looked like naked, so maybe they’ve taken artistic license and embellished. Whatever it is, they’ve compared notes, because they still look indistinguishable to you.

“Like what you see?” one of them asks and you realize you I’ve been staring, maybe even with your mouth hanging open. You never imagined you’d hook up with a doppelganger, let alone two of them at once. But you have imagined foisting yourself on John in this very flat, and you’re about to live that daydream.

You end up doing things with the two of them beyond what you’ve ever dreamed of. You fuck one of them, and at the same time get fucked by the other one from behind, the cheap bed’s metal joints creaking and moaning from the motion of three bodies rocking against each other. You let them suck your cock and rim you to get you back in the mood for another round, trying not to think about how unsettlingly hungry they both look, and who they really are underneath the human-looking exterior. The exterior slips periodically when they’re in the throes of pleasure. You wince when they betray just how strong they really are, whenever they flip you over or change positions, as if you weigh nothing. You try not to pay attention when their eyes start glowing red when they’re particularly turned on, but it’s impossible to ignore in the darkness of the bedroom.

“William, you are fucking delicious,” one of them declares, licking his lips obscenely after swallowing down your cum, and all you can do is emit a short nervous chuckle, and think that even if they do decide to eat you at the end of all of this— either to cover their tracks, or just because they might start feeling peckish after all this is over— it will still have been worth it.

You don’t get eaten. In fact, you’ve had the time of your life, and as you get up from the bed and mumble that you have to get back to your post before your shift is over, the two Johns lie languid, naked on the bed watching you, each enjoying a post coital glass of milk (that’s all they have in the fridge— you saw when they opened it), like perfect mirror images.

“You won’t be making any unnecessary phone calls, right William?”

“We can count on you to be discreet and keep a secret, right?”

Through the combined haze of being scared for your life and then having the time of your life, there’s still one thing that bothers you, and you ask about it, against all your best self-preservation instincts.

“So what have you done with the real John Gillman?”

They turn to look at each other, not exactly conspiratorial but it still makes you uneasy.

“Oh, John Gillman never existed. We’ve been around a lot longer than you humans think. Many of us never tried to replicate and replace real humans.”

“Yeah, and a lot of good that did when some of us started! The ones who are doing it are the reason we’re being hunted now. Unoriginal hacks. And so bad at mimicking too.”

“So many embarrassing ones out there.” They both nod at each other.

You’d like to believe them. You really would. “So why choose this persona?”

“The milkman gets free milk and gets around in your society! And humans seem to like this look,” one of them says, grinning and gesturing with his hand over their naked bodies.

“But we only ever get to enjoy bored housewives.”

“And why are there two of you?” you ask hesitantly, glancing at the clock on the wall to verify that you’re not late yet.

“Oh there’s more than two of us,” one of them says and they laugh in unison in a way that sends a chill down your spine.

~~~

You think you’ve got it all worked out. You’re letting the John Gillmans stay in the apartment undisturbed, and you let them through even when it’s obvious that there’s more than one of them coming and going. You figure it’s a win-win. They promise to protect the building from any rogue doppelgangers who infiltrate and intend to harm the residents, and in return get a place to stay the night peacefully. You get to visit apartment F03-02 after your shift ends and have mind-blowing sex. They seem to enjoy the orgies as well. They know your shift hours and try to only come and go during those times. There doesn’t seem to be a problem with this arrangement.

Or at least not a problem that you’re going to make into your problem. When one of the Johns walks in, visibly smeared in blood, you do give him a hard time.

“Come on, John. Just because I’ll let you in, doesn’t mean you can just stop trying to look decent. God forbid I call in sick and someone else is here.”

John shrugs and goes through the formality of pushing his ID and entry request under the glass window.

“And get a new ID…” you tell him when you see bloody fingerprints all over the worn paper.

John shrugs, doing his usual tired act, despite how ridiculous it looks to be so bored and nonchalant when he’s smeared in blood.

“Whose blood is that, anyway?” you ask, wondering why you’re not more disturbed.

“Someone who was of no consequence and who won’t be missed,” John replies, terse and cool as a cucumber.

“I thought you said you were vegetarian?”

“I’ll take a cheat day if I run into a wifebeater,” John says, shrugging.

You buzz him in, telling him to get washed up before someone sees him, wondering if you’re being colossally naive to believe his story, and wondering if you’ve got a death wish because you’re still looking forward to going up there once your shift ends in a few hours.

(What in the world. 💀)

ETA: now with another art piece by @olliveolly

#cozy corner domaystic #lol #butchlander #that’s not my neighbor au #homelander #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #fic #mystuff

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finnbbl · 1 month

Text

Hyunjin × M! Reader - Dancer AU I SMAU | Chapter 13

Ch. 13 - Entitled I Previous Chapter | Next Chapter I

I Story Masterlist I

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death

A smile slowly made its way to your face as you finished your conversation with Hyunjin. "Y/N!" Your head darted up as you heard your name being called rather harshly. "Get up off your phone, it's like you're addicted to that thing." Your dad scolded. Rolling your eyes, you placed the device into the chair you were sitting in as you made your way over in front of the camera once again. "You know we could've been done a while ago if you had just cooperated properly."

"Such a pain.." Was a thought that constantly ran through your mind any time you had to have any interaction with your father. Things hadn't always been like this between the two of you. Having used to have the most healthy relationship. But ever since your mother died and he inherited most of her belongings, things took a turn. You thought about how you got to this point as you subconsciously posed and listened to the photographer.

The flashes of lights and the sounds of camera shutters became somewhat comforting to the memories that ran through your head. Your father had inherited enough money to get his clothing brand going, hence his now stuck up personality. After his business took off when you were 16, he barely had any time for you. Always gone and left you to fend for yourself. The man had no idea that you had started your career as a backup dancer. Not until he came home after a month long trip and you were nowhere to be found. The rage that filled his voice that night he called you was unforgettable.

An hour or two more went by before you guys were finally finished. "That's a wrap, thank you so much for your time today Y/N!" The nice gentleman praised and shook your hand out of gratitude. Something your dad would never do, and it definitely didn't seem as if he liked it. A smile grew up on your lips as he did so. It was always nice to have a normal interaction with someone. Of course that wouldn’t last for long. "Ah he's already got a big enough ego, no need for all that." He laughed it off as a joke. All you could do was muster up an awkward smile as the photographer awkwardly changed the subject. "Yeah I'm the one with the ego.." You thought as you rolled your eyes as he turned his head. The two older men conversing about the shoot, when photos would be out, etc.

Upon their conversation, you had remembered to go grab your things from the chair. Walking rather quickly over there, you threw your bag over your shoulder and grabbed your phone. Checking your phone for any possible new messages from Hyunjin. It wasn’t too long before a quiet ding came from your phone, signaling you had gotten a message. It read, “Still need me to pick you up?” The remembrance of the soon to be release from this hell hole with your father lightened you up a bit. As you began to text back, their conversation had come to a close.

“Who are you texting?” Your dad’s rather nosy behavior caught you slightly off guard. Even with how shitty he could be, he was never invasive. The man couldn’t care less what goes on in your life. You looked up at him slowly and rather confused, “Uhm I was just texting one of my friends, he invited me over to a sleep over tonight.” Not thinking much of it, you assumed the conversation would end at that. At least that’s what usually would happen.

“I don’t think so, I didn’t say you could go out tonight.” You finished up the message and sent it to Hyunjin before looking up at him again. A stern look on his face as his arms rested crossed with each other. “I’ve never had to ask before, why do you care so much now?”

“Because ever since that little tour stunt you pulled, leaving the house for months, you’ve clearly had too much freedom.” Your eyebrows furrowed, “I’m an adult dad you can’t control where I go and who I’m with.” The words fell out of your mouth so easily. Perhaps that was a mistake, you realized this as you saw how angry your dad was now getting. The way his lips pursed as he stared daggers into your eyes, it was enough to send chills up your spine. “That’s my job, I gave you a heads up when it happened I don’t know why you’re so angry. Regardless, I’m going out tonight so don’t expect me back until morning.”

“No sir you are not, I don’t know what made you think you can be this entitled towards me but it’s unacceptable.” Your grip tightened around your phone. The two of you argued back and forth for several minutes before your phone lit up with another message. You already knew it was Hyunjin without having to read it, so you finally decided to shut this conversation down. “Again, I’m leaving and you’re not stopping me.” Stating firmly as you made your way to the other side of the building, where Hyunjin would most likely be parked. Harsh calls for your name were heard as you walked away, refusing to turn back and continue this argument. Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall. Pointless.

You let out a heavy breath as you rounded the corner, eyes glancing around for a parked vehicle. However, all you saw was a parked motorcycle, the driver still on it. Their hands tapping away aimlessly at the handles You tilted your head in slight confusion. He wouldn’t drive a motorcycle, would he? Your question was answered as the driver suddenly glanced up and around, spotting you and waving. This confirmed it as you smiled slyly and didn’t waste any time going over there. Upon arriving, he lifted up his visor. “I didn’t know you drove a motorcycle.” Lips curving into a smile as you examined the bike, it was rather nice. Definitely expensive. “You didn’t ask.” Hyunjin retorted back as he handed you a fancy helmet. You slowly reached out for it, sort of hesitant. “I’ve never really ridden on one before..” When Hyunjin noticed you weren’t taking the helmet, he lightly pushed it into your hands as he spoke, “It’s easy. Besides, you’re not the one driving it.” He laughed as you put on the helmet, hesitantly climbing on.

Hyunjin noticed your arms weren’t moving. You found it hard to bring yourself to wrap your arms around him, despite knowing that’s the only way to safely ride as a passenger. “Do you want to fall off?” He turned his head to the side, unable to see that he was giving you a massive side eye. “I just don’t wanna overstep boundaries-“

“Oh whatever, just hold on.” Finally, your hands found their way around his stomach. They rest there timidly. Although his visor was in the way, you could tell he was rolling his eyes at you before sighing and pulling your arms tighter. “See? Like that. Easy.” You didn’t respond, a loud roar from the bike emitted as he started it up. Taking off not long after. During the drive to his house, you started to grow more comfortable. Even going as far as to rest your head on his shoulder, so you could see the road in front.

A new feeling started to bloom inside. One of comfort, safety, relaxation. Was it the bike, was it the new experience? Or was it Hyunjin.. You honestly couldn’t tell. All you knew is right now you felt the best you had in weeks, ever since the tour ended. You didn’t want this feeling to end.

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @onementally-unstabel-kid @uso-dakedo @lampcults @chaer4life

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#skz smau #stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids smau #bang chan #changbin #hyunjin #lee know #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #stray kids x male reader #skz x male reader #hyunjin x male reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin

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