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#sweet readers 💗💗

yoongsisbae · 1 year

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Aaahhhhhh Run Run Run is a real gem😭💎💜I love love the OC so much please🥹 I hope there's an update soon and even though I'm pissed at bts for leaving oc at the airport in the 1st chapter, I love them *all* now and how am I suppose to see any of them die😭🙃 anyway I can't wait to see what happens next, THE STORY IS NETFLIX/DISNEY+ worthy🔥‼️

also- hope you're doing well ehheehe💜💓 and please can you add me to the tag list hehe

Thank you so much! Wow, that's such a compliment omg 🥺🥺 I'm so honored you think that! I have been working on it actually I spent all night writing scenes in part 5 😪

Thank you again for your kind words and support 💕💕 I added u and here's a sneak peek for you!

You should have cherished those moments more, the smiles and laughter and banter and good times. Taehyung’s jokes, Jungkook’s bored singing, an infectious melody that had the others and even you humming along. Hoseok’s animated retelling of the events the leader and eldest two had missed, making you and the others laugh along, the leader’s slightly impressed and very dismayed expressions and Seokjin whining over his sore feet.

How wonderful it was when sore feet were the only thing to complain about.

You should have enjoyed those days leading up to reaching Hongcheon city more, When killing zombies felt like a team building exercise. Remember that? Tallying up your kills. Like it was a game, like it wasn’t the worst thing imaginable you had to do to another person, because they were people at one point...

You look around at the scared tired faces of the men around and think how easy it could be to lose them to the same fate, a tally in a game strangers play not knowing how much love that growling decaying body held, the jokes they told, the songs they sung, the stories they experienced, the sacrifice they endured.

You should have taken life more seriously, maybe now it wouldn’t feel so abysmal, karma for your blase us vs. them mentality. How stupid, you of all people should know better.

No, it was you and your future staring back with yellow clouded eyes. You stare back and feel nothing but regret.

And guilt.

And fear.

So you run faster, gulp down hot air, let it burn your lungs and let it sting your belly, because you now know the pain of living is always better than death, always!

You follow the others into the first house you come across where you quickly barricade yourselves in.

One two three four five six…

No.

#asks #run run run~#sweet readers 💗💗#bae4everr #sneaky peeky

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arminsumi · 7 months

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I love reading your stuff, if you may be so kind, can we get some clingy geto?

I hope you're having a great day! 💕

✎ "i've got the whole world in my arms"

すぐる

note : ahhh i found this buried in the inbox :( omg !! i'm so late but i wrote a little something i hope it nourishes ur heart

"angel... stay a little longer with me, will you?"

you're about to head out after a long night spent cuddling when he says this. and he's clinging to your body, refusing to let you go. your soft chuckling response makes his chest quiver.

"suguru, i've gotta go. my mom expects me to be home soon."

his addam's apple shifts as he swallows. he looks up at your face, eyes clouding with love.

"...please?" he makes a quiet plea.

you sigh and look down at him like you're adoring a puppy. your boyfriend really takes after one with how he heels you in public and cuddles up to your lap when it's just you and him in his cozy apartment.

"...but i told her i'd... aw... don't give me those eyes, suguru... i swear, you're like a baby sometimes."

"yeah... i'm your baby. can't you stay just... mmm... five more minutes?"

you laugh again. his pupils dilate a bit when he stares at your creasing features.

"ah, that tactic? like when you wake up in bed and think "just five more minutes"?"

he lets out a small mhm. it turns into a woeful longing sound when you attempt to recede out of his embrace again. his grip tightens on you.

"dare you to try pull away from me again, 'n i'll — come here — (kisskisskiss, you receive so many cute threatening kisses) try pull away from me like that again and i'll tie you to my bed."

you're giggling into his chest, cheeks feeling toasty. he feels your hair graze under his chin, tickling his skin. it makes his heart lurch.

"baby... i've got the whole world in my arms. how could i ever let you go?"

#✎ newspaper clippings #geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #fluff #he's like a little toffee sweet #he needs u to carry him around in ur bag #🤭💗#god forbid u pull out of geto's cuddles #that's a crime in his eyes

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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thevillainswhore · 9 months

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hi love, just had to share this adorable thought 🥰 just imagine beefy!bucky protecting you like this, unable to let you out of his sight, and he has to be touching you at all times🤭😅

you: “it’s okay buck, i’ll be right back.”

him: “no.”

you: “i have to pee…”

him: “no.”

BABEE, you always give me the best ideas 😭😫 thank you for giving me the urge for my writing to flow so gooddd. I think you may like this one 👀

maybe it could be our beefy lumberjack!Bucky, it’s been a long day at the wood yard for him. He’s missed his baby and all he’s wanted to do since leaving you in the bed this morning, is have you right back in his arms.

Maybe you’re cooking dinner for the two of you when the signature tell of the door slamming shut alerts you that your man is finally home, boots thundering against the floor from his pure muscle and weight as he makes his way towards the kitchen.

“Hi baby! I’m just cooking dinner, it won’t be too long for you.”

But Bucky doesn’t care about that right now. All he is concerned with is scooping you up and bundling you up together into your nightly burrito and making sure you can’t escape his hold.

And that’s exactly what he does.

It’s a miracle you don’t manage to burn yourself as your legs are suddenly swept from under you, finding yourself in your beefy man’s huge arms bridal style as his thick thighs carry you towards your room.

“BUCKY! What are you doing?! Put me down!”

The cheeky shit just stays silent, too focused on his mission of having you all to himself as he kicks open the bedroom door. How he’s able to kick off his boots, shed his jeans and take off his coat all whilst still holding you is a mystery to you.

Also kinda hot too.

Plopping down into the middle of your king size bed together, Bucky settles himself back against the pillow of the headboard, rearranging you to sit between his legs, right where you belong.

His bear like form dominates over you as he crosses his arms over your chest, it’s like his arms are the tree trunks he cuts down at work. But his gentle and delicate hold on you as he places his palms on your cheeks, bringing you into his embrace and rubbing your silk-smooth skin almost makes you tear up.

The way this man is so large in size and yet still treats you like a fragile flower blows your mind, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He knows how to ruin you when the time suits him anyway.

Peaceful. Life with your lumberjack never failed to surprise you and bring you so much joy. And you wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than where you are at the minute.

He was home.

Cuddling with him for over half an hour, the quiet between you comforting and not at all awkward, your bum starts to go numb.

His constant touches and hums of content into your skin are the most rewarding, no doubt about that.

But a girl had to use the toilet sometime.

Trying to shuffle out of his hold, each attempt has Bucky clinging to you tighter, like he’s personally offended you want to get out of the burrito huddle he so generously placed you into.

“It’s okay Buck, I’ll be right back.”

Your reassurance doesn’t matter to him though, the pout on his face adorable and so hard not to give into as he speaks his first words of the night.

“No.”

This mountain of a man is actually the most childlike person you’ve ever known.

“I have to pee, though…”

And of course, your big teddy bear looks you dead in the eyes and speaks once more.

“No.”

Guess you’re staying put as you are for the rest of the night.

#sweet asks #meggy💗#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x you

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 3 months

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i find it so funny when i read a pav fic and it’s clear the author has no idea how to. Write A Proper Indian Setting 😭 idk what you think but no teens walk around saying namaste… unless they’re talking to someone double their age

also the gtranslated hindi lmfao 💀 it sounds so tinny and has so many odd little words that ppl barely use and it’s got that translated vibe to it yk

i remember seeing a fic where y/n picked up a naan and ate it w/ a fork and knife?? erm sorry what???? and the amount of rly common north indian slang that’s used… mumbai (mumbattan) is in the southwest

& i feel like not a lot of ppl actually know that the south and the north are DRASTICALLY different. to a point where there’s some beef between the two regions asw

#⋆·˚ 🪴 ༘ * — 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗶 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝘀 #the fic writers are trying their best tho lol #it’s sweet honestly #especially the fact that they’re trying to understand the culture #writers who may not be desi but are trying their best I LOVE YOU AND I APPRECIATE YOU 💗#but ground rules. pls don’t write the reader eating naan w a fork and knife thank you <3

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powerofelvis · 1 year

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When you call me, baby, baby

It's such a sweet inspiration

The way you call me darlin', darlin', darlin'

Sets my heart to skating

#sweet inspirations inspired fic coming soon 💗#daisy speaks #daisy.log #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis x black reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x black!reader #black reader #black writers #aesthetic #moodboards

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doctorslove · 2 years

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Please imagine the relief Ten feels as soon as his body is his again [on the episode Midnight]. He had heard you the entire time his body wasn't his: yelling and shouting at the others on the bus, desperate for their help, trying to make them understand what He couldn't say. He could only watch you being held back by other men larger than you; watching as you kick and shout the most rude of expletives, swearing on your heart and soul you'd make everyone regret hurting him.

As soon as his body is his again, you run to him and finally start to cry. You just cling to him with your face burrowed in his neck, trying to ignore how close you'd come to witnessing his execution. You're forever grateful for the train attendant who listened and who helped; the one woman in the world who believed you and helped you, but lost her life for it.

The Doctor is a little impressed with how much of a fight you had put up. Your temper gradually overtook your logical attempts to reason with the other passengers. He's so proud of you and he can't help but feel so in love with you. The way you cling to him the train ride back--not letting go of him, always hanging onto his elbow or the back of his jacket. You reject the apologies of anyone who tries to give any. It wouldn't bring that poor woman back and it wouldn't make you forget how powerless you'd been on watching as the Doctor, your sweet handsome doctor, was almost brutally executed because a couple of stir crazy people wouldn't listen to logic. He likes how aggressive and overprotective you become after that indicent and in all other journeys to follow: no one can give your Doctor so much as a dirty look without your heart racing with adrenaline and anger. Please imagine the hard and heavy kisses you give him as soon as you retreat to the safety of the Tardis: the passionate touches as he thumbs away your tears, assuring you that he is alright, that he's there and alive and he's so glad he has you.

AnYWaYs I love The Doctor so much 😫😫😫 hope your day is going well

Love always, blue box girl 💙

BYE I’M GONNA SCREAMMMMMM

there’s nothing i love more than the idea of you and the doctor desperately holding and kissing and touching each other after escaping danger…there’s just something about it 😩

it’s that…he is the one who’s always overprotective!! he is the one who always acts like he’s about to destroy the universe because one tear ran down your cheek. so it took him by surprise to see you so protective over him! he realized just how much he means to you!! how important he is to you!!

when you’re finally alone in the tardis he sees how needy you are to just hold him and feel him and remind yourself that he is alive…that he’s still here with you. he lets you hold him all night something that he needed just as bad as you did…he melts under your lips, you can feel him shiver, so you take his hand in yours and you don’t let go…

#this made me literally melt…..#he deserves to have someone who feels so protective of him!!! someone who would FIGHT for him #you always feel so safe with him but you make him feel safe too!!!#and he LOVES all the attention you give him when you’re finally alone after he puts himself in danger…#bc it means kisses and cuddles and sweet longing touches #😩🦋#also THANK YOU i hope you’re having a beautiful day as well 💗💗💗💗#the doctor loves you too 😏 even more!!#tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who #ask #blue box girl #i guessed that’s your anon name!!

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tamiisnthere · 1 year

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Altaïr ❤️ Reader Headcanon - Dating Him

Here is one of my headcanons from my Wattpad :3

My fanfics (preferences) if you haven't read them yet:

How do You meet Him

How do You two become Friends

Enjoy! 💕

💗 Altaïr rarely shows affection on you in public, but when you are both alone, he becomes the sweetest guy 🥰

💗 Thats why he prefers to date you in quiet places where you can have a moment only for yourselves 😊

💗 You're making fun of him to be annoyed, but he secretly likes it 😘

💗 He constantly gives you some small gifts on every date, which may not be expensive things, but you always appreciates him 🎁

💗 He is sometimes overprotective and jealous when you talk to someone other than him ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

💗 You both always blushing when you look each other in the eye ‹(⁽˙́ʷ˙̀⁾ )∨( ⁽˙́ʷ˙̀⁾)›

💗 Then he whispers sweet nothings in Arabic into your ear and sometimes you as well in your native language (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

💗 Lots of cuddles and kisses (/^.^(^.^*)>

💗 Very rarely you will be disturbed by Malik/Desmond/Ezio what Altaïr really hates but you don't mind 🤭

💗 When the date ends, Altaïr will escort you home, kisses on your lips, says to each other "I love you." and says goodbye even it's hard ( ๑ ᴖ ᴈ ᴖ)ᴖ ᴑ ᴖ๑)❣

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yoongsisbae · 5 months

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Hii! I spent the last few days reading Bon Voyage: Into the Sea and I cant believe how good it is. You are such an amazing writer. I love the way the story is told, the way the secrets are revealed, the depth of every character, a piece of art truly. I love your writing style, you are seriously really good. I will love to keep on reading your work, you are amazing!

oh wow 🥺🥺 thank you so much, that means so much to hear (especially when I feel like I can’t string two concise sentences together atm 🥲) thank you for your kind words I will push myself to keep writing, comments like yours really help 💗

#asks #sweet readers 💗💗#BV:ITS

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angelicinserts · 2 years

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Hcs for the Desperado visiting reader's house that is a cottage with a little farm pls 🧡

yes yes, of course 🥰💖 !!

Mistral: Oh she adores your cottage! She loves the lighting and the quaintness of it, and you can find her hanging out in your garden more often than not. Her personality noticeably shifts as soon as she crosses the threshold of your home, she becomes more domestic, softer, sweeter. It’s a good look on her, and you tell her often, much to her flustered dismay.

Monsoon: Much like Mistral, he loves your cottage! He’s always known you have deeper ties to nature and the world around you than the other Winds, but he wouldn’t have guessed that you lived like this, away from society and the hustle-bustle of the city. Lead him outside, show him the unpolluted night sky, all the stars he can see when outside of the city, he’ll do anything for you.

Sam: Sam packs an easel and his paint supplies when he hears that you want to take him to your cottage, taking this opportunity to decompress and relax with you! Despite being a guest in your house, he insists on cooking for you, the chance to use nothing but fresh ingredients too tempting for him to pass up. He loves how quiet everything is, and he spends hours outside just painting and relaxing.

Sundowner: He’s fairly calm about the situation, but as soon as he sees your farm animals he loses it! He’s going up to your cows and petting them, feeding them, he’s cooing and playing with your chickens, and only has issues with your horse, who tries to bite him. He thinks of them as pets and takes care of them as such, you even let him name the new chicks since he seems so enamored with them!

#mgr headcanons #mistral mgr #monsoon mgr #jetstream sam #Samuel Rodrigues #sundowner mgr #x reader #angel shaped art #💗 queue're the only one i love 💗#they need a vacation...let them rest #sundowners taking a FAT nap on ur cow btw its v sweet

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writing-good-vibes · 2 months

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another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

#corey cunningham x roger allen #💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#corey cunningham #i am a sweet tooth corey truther #corey baby that married man doesnt love you !!!!!!!#and they're such a cliche 🙄 fooling around with the babysitter ?? derivative #but i will never give corey a break #and thats a bona fide anna promise 😎#canon divergence my beloved !! they need more time together to make each other worse and ruin their lives even harder #some bonuses for the dedicated readers who also read my tags:#the game playthrough corey and jeremy watch is for f/naf #corey defo had a f/naf stan friend at school who would explain all the lore as it happened. like early days f/naf #corey watched his friend go through the trenches of the 1 - 4 timeline #the 90s movie that corey watches is the tal/ented mr rip/ley #the chocolates are russell stover. i added the pink bow though because 🎀aesthetic🎀#you know that gif of jude law in Wilde 1997 ?? yeah that one.#cunningallen

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headfullofpresley · 1 year

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Hiya loves! I wanted to come by and say that i love your blog! And you’re my favorite Elvis writer! Thank you for writing for this fandom and being a part of it ♥︎

hi sweet nonnie!!

that's so so so sweet of you. thank you so much! 🥺

i'm very happy to have found other people that share the same love i have for el and that you guys enjoy my writing so much. the fact that i'm your favorite writer in this fandom makes me scream, cry and throw up (in the fun way ;)). i love you cutie!! 💗💗

#sweet nonnie #kisses and hugs for you #lysm 💗#elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader

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bbiemochi · 2 years

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u’re such a sweet person and ur work is absolutely amazing, i hope i didn’t sound pressuring when i asked for the mao thing again it wasn’t my intention so i apologize for that and i completely understand! take all the time u need to write the req honestly i always look forward for a new work from you i love your writing sooo much it’s honestly so good. i hope you’re alright n you’re having a great day xx

no, no, no it was lowkey my fault for not realizing at first ! ToT but tysm for requesting and flattering me, my lovely :,} your guys’ compliments are feeding my well istg thank you all sm! <33

#lucy’s random 💤💗#💌. lucyanswers #my sweet readers <33 #lucy shut up 🧀✨

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ddollfface · 3 months

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Hiii, bby!

I just wanted to hop in and ask if I could write something with Anaisha (you might know her if you got my fanfic of an ask lmao) and LoveSick!Athlete on my blog? It's totally okay if not, I'd understand. I just wanted to have your permission.

- 💗

Ohhh! Hey, 💗!Nonny! Sorry for taking so long to respond... But relating back to your question, feel free!

I don't mind other writers making some oc!readers for my characters, or making one-shots and crap. But I won't write oc!reader on my own blog... I just don't feel comfortable as I like making more "inclusive" writing that everyone can read lol (or I try to).

But if you do make something with your oc, or anything related to my characters, pls tag me! I really want to see what you're cooking up!

No joke, it makes me so happy that you like my characters this much :(((

Like I'm going to cry.

(don't worry I'll try not to. maybe. you're really too sweet 💗!Nonny...)

#💗!𝙉𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 #nonny asks #lovesick #hey nonny nonny #i'm going to cry #I'm not a big fan of oc readers #but if you want to #then feel free <3333 #Bro yall are so sweet :(((#I'm too emotional #yan blog #questions

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