#...I have been meaning to draw him again it's been a while >_>

[intromortal]

ENHYPEN OT6 DEAL WITH YOUR OVULATION

part 1

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink for most, pet names, so much praise, p in v, size kink for hee's and hoon's, bulge kink for hee's, daddy kink for jay's, oral fem receiving and overstim for jake's, mentions of pain and nipple play for hoon's, video call sex for sunoo's, mean won, pet play and degradation for won's.

nia note ! this should have been out forever ago but it's me... so. this is for @heehoonies 🫵 bc i know you wanted it, and my baby @sleepyhoon

HEESEUNG | thinks he might be in heaven. you’re squeezing him tighter than you ever have, sounding like an angel under him as he presses his hips snugly against yours. he’s already so deep inside you, but he pushes his cock to reach even deeper, taking one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder so he can fuck into you just like he wants to, his bangs falling over his eyes with the motion.

“you sound even wetter now that you’re under me, babydoll,” he gasps into your neck, hips never once faltering despite how hard you’re squeezing him. “sending me your pretty moans when i’m out with the guys… you’re so desperate to be filled up with cum, mhh angel, aren't you?”

you clench even tighter around his girth at the cute pet name he’d taken a liking to using with you. he loves calling you his sweet little angel.

“of course you are.” heeseung snickers, sliding his hand over your tummy, pushing against it to feel his bulge repeatedly fuck into your heat. his mouth is hanging open at the sight. you look so fucked out under him, grabbing and clawing at the bedsheets because when you think he’s finally pushed all the way in, he still gives you more. “so fucking deep babydoll… i’m gonna get you all nice and pregnant.”

JAY | just like promised, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot to leave work so he could come home and give you all the attention you craved so desperately.

“so desperate for cock you forgot your manners?” jay says, his tone stern. he lifts up your skirt to reveal your bare glistening cunt, no panties. “we can’t have that now. can we, pretty girl?”

“please daddy?” you look up to him, lashes all wet and darker from the tears of frustration that had welled up in your eyes while waiting for him.

“please what, angel?”

“please fuck me?” you sound so embarrassed, jay’s cock twitches in his hand. still his pretty shy girl even when you’re so desperate and begging for him.

“you said no condom, right baby? gonna let me feel your raw pussy?”

you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch your boyfriend spit on his own cock, hand spreading the wetness on his entire length before he positions it at your entrance, his other hand gripping on your bunched up skirt until his knuckles turn white. your mouth waters at the thought of his cum down your throat, a treat he never fails to give you, pulling out of you to let your mouth finish him off whenever he’s close. this time though, he has different plans.

JAKE | likes to spend entire hours nestled between your thighs, lapping away at your cunt like he might never get another chance to in his life. and it’s nothing new really, but he somehow gets even needier for your pretty pussy to gush around his tongue whenever you’re ovulating, if that’s even possible.

“fuck baby, you’re so much wetter than usual,” he moans against your inner thigh, sloppily licking away at the skin of it before going back to suck on your clit. “gonna come around my tongue again?”

you’ve lost count of how many times he has already made you do just that, promising with a pout that it’s for real the last time, just to have you spread out on the couch for him again in a matter of minutes.

“so, so fucking sweet. wanna stay here forever.” he’s basically making out with your cunt, drooling all over as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you. and you don’t even know when your high starts or ends anymore, pain so good you just have to lay there for him. you’re barely coherent when he comes up to your face, tongue pushing against your own in a messy, wet kiss. and you taste yourself on him, just like he promised. “taste how sweet you are baby? and you wanna deprive me of this?”

SUNGHOON | has you on his lap, thick cock pushing to make space in your snug heat with difficulty. you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how thick his girth feels inside you, stretching you out like no one has ever done before. ruining you for every other man, like he likes to say. you also won’t lie and say you don’t love it. the burning pain feels good once you start getting used to it, but the best part is how his soothing words guide and heal you all throughout it.

“this tiny kitty can barely handle me,” he whispers, strong big arms sneaking around your back to hold you flush against him, his face dipped down to kiss all over your stomach as you slowly sink down onto him. “but you’re so good baby, taking me so well mhh?”

“hoonie… h-hurts.”

“i know that pretty, i know that. but you wanna make me proud don’t you? wanna make hoonie feel so good?”

and you can’t do anything but nod, a small tear slipping past the corner of your eye when he takes your nipples in his mouth, warm tongue toying with the cold bars of the piercings, moaning around your skin when your breath hitches in your throat. you nod because even when it hurts, you know he’s gonna make it feel so good later.

SUNOO | cooes at you when you finally answer his video call and he’s met with the picture of you, hair all messy and forehead all sweaty, with your hands in your panties. he can’t help it when you’re so cute, unable to get off without his help.

he fluffs up a pillow behind him and rests on it, thick glass frames falling down the bridge of his nose and a playful smirk on his plump lips. “can’t come without me, princess?” it’s even more embarrassing to hear him say it out loud, but he’s not wrong. “pull your panties to the side and show me then. show me how badly you want me to fill you up.”

you do, fumbling to give him the best possible view before he even thinks to ask again. you make it a point to spread your cunt open for him to see, revelling in the low guttural moan you steal from him, a shiver running right down to your tummy when you notice how his arm is moving, hoping he’s palming himself to the sight of you. you hope he’ll be nice enough to let you see.

“now i’ll tell you exactly what to do. how to touch yourself properly.” he bites down on his bottom lip when he hears the obscene sounds your wet cunt is making, and he wishes for nothing more than for you to be there with him, not through a screen. “in exchange, when i come back, you’ll let me fill up that pretty pussy of yours how many times i want to. isn’t that right princess?”

JUNGWON | hates when you get an attitude, and he acts like he hates having to put you back in your place, but deep down you both know he loves it, and you do too.

“talking to me like that,’ he says, voice so much lower than usual, as he thrusts into you with an erratic rhythm. your cunt is still sore from the spanks he gave you earlier, and his balls slapping against it as he takes you from behind are doing nothing to soothe you. “so horny you forgot your manners? you’re such a dumb little bunny.”

his cock is pressing so deep inside you, it all feels too much, but not enough at the same time. so you push your hips against his pelvis, trying to take in even more. “god, you’re so pathetic,” he laughs incredulously, punctuating his sentence by pushing his length all the way inside you, keeping his hips flush against the fat of your ass, pushing you forward until your front collapses on the bed. your breath is knocked out of lungs, but you get no time to recover because he grabs a fistful of your hair and speaks right into your ear, voice low and dangerous, “you’re my little pet. my bunny to discipline, and my bunny to fuck and breed. got that?”

[tokkiwrites]

Hi happy holidays! Can you please do a Sergei kravinoff smut x innocent female virgin reader “babe in the woods” trope. Sergei is immediately fixated on reader and wants her to be his grude & mother of his children. He immediately marries and later takes her virginity. He hopes to impregnate her from their first time together. Ty!

thank you for this request, anon! and sorry it took so long to post. I've had it written, but it just took a while for me to get the smut part going. i hope you like it!

Sergei Kravinoff × F!Reader ♰ themes of stalking, obsessive Sergei, kidnapping, Kraven is a weirdo and needs to be locked up, i would say innocent reader but more so an unbothered reader kind of, she is just confused, forced marriage, themes of Stockholm syndrome, loss of virginity, fingering (reader receiving), afab reader, unprotected p in v, Sergei wants to get the reader pregnant.

The woods were quiet, save for the whisper of wind threading through the branches above. You loved this time of day when the sun filtered gold and green through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the earth. It was your sanctuary, far from the clamor of town and the heavy, watchful eyes of others. Here, no one could accuse you of being strange, or sheltered, or too naive. You simply were.

The faint crack of a branch made you stop mid-step, your basket of wildflowers swinging lightly at your hip. “Hello?” You called, voice soft, hesitant. The forest had always been safe— or so it felt. until now, you had never had the need to question it.

He emerged from the shadows, and your breath caught. The man was massive. A towering figure, his broad shoulders draped in animal pelts and his chest bare save for the crisscrossing scars that marked him as something primal, dangerous. His face was angular, carved from stone, with piercing eyes that pinned you where you stood.

Sergei Kravinoff. The name would mean nothing to you, but to others, it struck fear—a hunter of men and beasts, a predator who bent the wilderness to his will. He did not speak at first. He only looked at you, as if you were some rare, delicate creature he had stumbled upon. The longer his eyes lingered, the hotter your cheeks burned.

“Who are you?” you asked, clutching the basket to your chest. His lips curved into a smile, though there was nothing warm in it. “I am Sergei,” he said, his voice low, thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “And you" he paused for a bit. " Should not wander alone in places like this. The world is not kind to lambs.” You blinked at him, confused. “Lambs?”

“You,” he clarified, taking a step closer. His sheer presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. “Soft. Untouched. So trusting.” You took an instinctive step back, and his smile widened, as if he enjoyed your unease. “I—I’ve never seen you here before. Are you lost?”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “But perhaps I have found something worth staying for.”

It reeked of dangerㅡ death. yet you still came back.

Over the next week, you saw him again and again. Always in the woods, always watching. At first, you told yourself it was a coincidence. this strange man simply shared your love for the forest. But his presence became impossible to ignore. He never tried to speak much, yet his eyes seemed to devour you every time, as though he were committing every detail of your face to memory. You should have been afraid. You should have stopped going to the woods entirely. But something about him fascinated you. He was so unlike the boys in town, who stammered and avoided your gaze, intimidated by your quietness. Sergei was bold, unflinching. He seemed to look right through you, to the parts of yourself you didn’t even understand.

you little lamb.

“Why do you keep following me?” He tilted his head, his gaze softening though not entirely. “Because you are mine.” The bluntness of his words made your breath hitch. “I don’t even know you.”

“You will,” he said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and though you should have flinched away, you didn’t. His touch was surprisingly gentle, reverent even, even if his rough fingers scratched your skin. “I have decided. You will be my bride.”

“Bride?” You echoed the word foreign and strange on your tongue. “But we’ve only just—” you laughed. surely it must be a joke. “You are meant for me, little lamb” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I have hunted all my life, little one. I know when I have found my prize.” Suddenly, the world went dark.

maybe it was all just a bad and confusing dream. though his touch still lingered.

You woke in the morning to find yourself not in your small, familiar room. outside the window that overlooked the bed you were in, the forest. The air smelled of pine and smoke, and outside, the trees loomed tall and unyielding. Panic gripped you as you sat up, heart racing. “Where—” The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the frame with his imposing presence. “You are awake,” Sergei said, his tone calm, almost pleasedㅡ excited. He carried a tray with food: fresh berries, bread, and cheese. “Eat. Now."

“Where am I?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why did you—” He set the tray down, cutting you off with a look. “You are safe. That is all you need to know.”

“I am not! This isn’t right,” you said, tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just—”

��I can,” he said sharply, though his expression softened as he stepped closer. “I have waited long enough. You do not understand, but you will. I will take care of you. Protect you. You will want for nothing, my little one.”

You shook your head, backing away from him, but he caught your wrist with startling ease. His touch was firm, yet not cruel. “Do not fear me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something almost tender. “I would never hurt you. You are too precious.”

Sergei did not wait long to make you his.

The days in the cabin blurred together, each one steeped in an odd rhythm. Sergei’s presence was constant, protective, and overwhelming. He would watch you eat, his sharp eyes softening whenever you complied. He brought you small gifts: wildflowers, trinkets carved from wood, pelts to keep you warm. He never let you wander far, always ensuring you were within sight. And though he never forced his touch upon you, you could feel the tension thrumming beneath the surface, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

In the evening, as the fire crackled and cast flickering shadows on the walls, Sergei sat across from you. He leaned forward, large hands resting on his knees. “It is time,” he said, his voice calm but unyielding. “Time?” you echoed, your throat dry. “For us to marry.” You stared at him, heart pounding. “I… I can’t. I don’t even know what you want from me. I—I never— You kidnapped me!”

“You were made for this,” he said, cutting you off. his eyes were setting you a-light, it made your skin prickle. “You think I do not see it? Your purity. Your innocence. You were meant to be a wife. My wife.” Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “But I’m not— I need to marry someone I love!"

“You are ready,” he insisted, his tone softening only slightly. “I have waited long enough. It will be done."

And it was.

The ceremony was simple, ritualistic. Sergei had prepared everything. rings made from woven silver, a bearskin cloak to drape over your shoulders as a symbol of protection. There was no priest, no people, only the two of you and the forest as your witness. He spoke vows in a language you did not understand, his voice deep and reverent, as though he were offering you up to some ancient force. When it was your turn, your voice faltered, but under his watchful gaze, you repeated the words he taught you.

“You are mine,” he said at the end, taking your face in his hands. His eyes burned with possessive fire. “And I am yours.”

but every wolf gets hungry eventually.

When night fell, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the thick wool blanket. Sergei entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He had shed his usual pelts, his bare chest glowing in the firelight.

“You are trembling,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. He knelt in front of you, his massive frame now not so intimidating. “Are you afraid of me?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don’t know... what you expect from me? What you w-want...”

“I expect you to trust me,” he said simply, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are my wife now. It is my duty to show you what that means.” Your breath stopped as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I will not hurt you,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But you are mine, little lamb. Every part of you.”

His lips met yours— soft at first, testing, as though he feared you might shatter like porcelain. But when you didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands cradled your face, his touch reverent, almost worshipful.

“I have waited for this,” he said against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Waited to claim what is mine.” You didn’t resist as he laid you down, his hands tracing over your trembling form. He was patient, guiding you gently, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so fierce. But his intent was clear.

oh, little lamb.

rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his bearded face stays flush against your tender neck. he was ready to devour you. Sergei looked up into your eyes and for the first time you've seen him smile. and as if all of the things you felt caused you fears melted away, so did you into his embrace.

his lips meet yours, and it all finally made sense. you could feel the hunger, the will in him to give his all right here, right now. you wrapped around him like vines on a tree, his low growl of approval making you clench around nothing. it all felt so new, yet familiar, as if somehow, this wasn't the first time. the forest outside sung as your quiet moans filled the cabin. Sergei discards all of your clothes with ease, leaving you in nothing as you stayed splayed on the bed. the fur coverings under, pooled around your body, the moonlight dripped on you like dew in spring and you looked like a precious painting.

with no time to wait, sergei quickly gets naked. it wasn't the first time you saw him like this, but it was the first time you saw it. to say all that fear bubbled up into your stomach was an understatement. you gulped down as your glossy eyes looked at him up and down. "Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obey. spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and sergei throws his head back with a low groan. you finally speak up. "IㅡI am a...a virgin." it all seemed so silly to say now. "I know." he smiles in the corner of his mouth. "Smelled it on you the first time we met." and you whimper. "I will get you ready now." somehow, you knew what it meant. He kneels in front of you on the bed, pulling you so that you thighs are right over his, your puffy lips on full display. two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

after that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. You whimpered softly and Sergei shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plushy thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers inside, and you can feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. the second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping them, swirling them around as his lips made contact with your swollen bud. Your eyes jot open as this feeling washes over you, and you can't help but let your legs shake uncontrollably. The fire wave envelopes you whole before it comes to an agonizing stop. You open your eyes again and above you is Sergei, his shaft in his hand as he aligns it with your asking entrance. "If it hurts...yell. Scream as much as you want. Hurt me back. I am here to teach you."

and teach you he does. he pushes in slowly and the stretch is agonizing, the pain making all of your muscles tense. "It's alright, I'm here, little girl." you let out a sigh, the tears slipping past your lids when you open your eyes. the moon engulfed Sergei in It's beautiful light, his silhouette looking as if it was carved out perfectly. a couple of inches, then some more, and some moreㅡ until he is fully inside. you bite down on your tongue, but Sergei preps soft kisses along your jaw and you seem to forget about the pain. "You're doing so, so good. So good for me." he hums, taking in a big breath of your smell before he snaps his hips slowly. In a few seconds, the burn turned into a delicious feeling you couldn’t quite describe. And though it felt so new, your body fell in place right into Sergei’s touch, as if it were meant to be.

When he finally started to move faster, his groan was one of triumph, a sound that you know will echo in your ears long after. “You will give me childrenㅡ" he said, voice low and ragged as he moved inside of you. “Strong sons and daughters. Our legacy will begin tonight.”

your legs quiver around him, but he leaves no room for mercy. Above you, he looked just as a predator ready to swallow his pray whole. you weren't one to fight back, and you really didn't want to. you back stayed arched against the coverings of the bed, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as he pumped into you. your tummy was churning, and your head was dizzyㅡ you were far gone, too drunk on the way he perfectly hit that spot with each thrust. "You were made for me, made to take meㅡ fuck, you are so beautiful." you whimper, feeling that fire wave starting to take over again. your velvet walls squeeze around him, causing him to growl. Sergei leans forward, propping one of your legs above his shoulder, the angle making you gasp for air. you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. An animal. His eyes grew darker, lips crooked in a smile before he delivered his final blow.

you come undone right under his fingertips, writhing and shaking as small pleads fall from your lips. You can feel his seed deep within you, threatening to slip out around his cock that was still inside of you, pulsing. "Good girl."

he prays it sticks.

Sergei’s obsession with you only deepened—he barely let you out of his sight, his touch lingering whenever he could. Yet there was a softness in him, a desire to make you happy, even as he bent you to his will.

He began teaching you small things. how to tend the fire, how to skin an animal, how to defend yourself should a predator come. But you were never allowed to go far. “Why can’t I leave?” you asked one afternoon, your frustration bubbling over. Sergei turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Because the world is cruel, little one. It will devour you. You are too soft, too trusting. Here, you are safe.”

“Safe,” you repeated bitterly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze softening. “I would rather you hate me than lose you.” you were beginning to see the truth of it. his love for you was consumin and obsessive, but it was real. He worshipped you, protected you, but at the cost of your freedom. And yet, part of you began to adapt. To find comfort in his arms, in the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps you were.

[anumberofhobbies]

Have a reference,

By Nina Metz | Chicago Tribune UPDATED: June 9, 2018 at 1:42 AM CST

The following is an edited conversation with Matzen about Stewart and “It’s a Wonderful Life,” which will also screen at Symphony Hall on Dec. 9-11 accompanied live by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with the Chicago Symphony Chorus. ... Q: What was it like on set, since it sounds like Stewart was a reluctant participant? A: Capra had supreme confidence in this story. Stewart not so much, but he got on board with it. It was this sense of, “This is our last shot. Hollywood went on without us, we’re not getting any younger, and if this bombs after we’ve both been away for five years …” But if you watch that performance by Stewart, there was a lot of rage in it and it’s an on-the-edge performance because that’s what those guys were feeling — they were scared that this wasn’t going to work. That the audience wasn’t going to buy it. Donna Reed (playing Stewart’s wife in the film) is one of the eyewitnesses who said, “This was not a happy set.” These guys were very tense. They would go off and huddle say, “Should we try this? Should we try that?” And it proceeded that way for months. They started shooting at the beginning of ’46 and it was a long shoot, it went into June. It was a very expensive, exhaustive production. It cost $3 million to make the thing. Q: Was Stewart also on edge because he was still working through some of his PTSD? A: Oh, absolutely. At this point, he had just started to eat again. He always had a high metabolism and always had trouble digesting food, and during the war it got worse and worse. He himself said that the only thing he subsisted on was peanut butter and ice cream. He just hadn’t been able keep food down. Now he’s starting to gain weight. But he’s still having nightmares and the shakes and the sweats. He’s got some hearing loss now, from the sound of the bombers on those seven-, eight-hour missions. So now you have an actor who, it’s not easy for him to hear his cues. Q: He wasn’t of the Method actor generation, but it sounds like he was, intentionally or not, drawing from his life in that performance, especially those scenes that reveal how untethered or frantic George Bailey is feeling. A: It was a personal and professional risk, playing that role. While he was making that film, he was questioning the superficiality of Hollywood and acting in general, and Lionel Barrymore (who plays Mr. Potter) said to him, “So, are you saying it’s more worthwhile to drop bombs on people than to entertain them?” And that really hit Stewart and was one of the things that turned him around and made him think, “OK, I do have an important role and there are things to be done.” There’s a scene in the movie where he questions his sanity and he’s got this wild look about him. That’s one scene that really struck me, watching it on the big screen. And the other scene that always made me uncomfortable, but now means so much more to me, is when he’s in his living room and he’s throwing things and screaming at his kids — and his wife and children look at him like, “Who is this man? Who is this monster?” And that is so reflective of what millions of families faced, looking at these strangers who came back from the war with this rage. Stewart played it beautifully. He just lets it out.

Jimmy Stewart & Post-Traumatic Stress: Months after winning his 1941 Academy Award for best actor in “The Philadelphia Story,” Jimmy Stewart, left Hollywood and joined the US Army. He was the first big-name movie star to enlist in World War II. An accomplished private pilot, the 33-year-old Hollywood icon became a US Army Air Force aviator, earning his 2nd Lieutenant commission in early 1942. With his celebrity status, he was assigned to attending rallies and training younger pilots. Stewart, however, wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to fly combat missions. By 1944, frustrated and feeling the war was passing him by, he asked his commanding officer to transfer him to a unit deploying to Europe. His request was reluctantly granted. Stewart, now a Captain, was sent to England, where he spent the next 18 months flying B-24 Liberator bombers over Germany. Top brass tried to keep the popular movie star from flying over enemy territory. But Stewart would hear nothing of it. Determined to lead by example, he assigned himself to every combat mission he could. By the end of the war he was one of the most respected and decorated pilots in his unit. But his wartime service came at a high personal price. In the final months of WWII he was grounded for being “flak happy,” today called Post Traumatic Stress (PTS). When he returned to the US in August 1945, Stewart was a changed man. He had lost so much weight that he looked sickly. He rarely slept, and when he did he had nightmares of planes exploding and men falling through the air screaming (in one mission alone his unit had lost 13 planes and 130 men, most of whom he knew personally). He was depressed, couldn’t focus, and refused to talk to anyone about his war experiences. His acting career was all but over. As one of Stewart’s biographers put it, “Every decision he made [during the war] was going to preserve life or cost lives. He took back to Hollywood all the stress that he had built up.” In 1946 he got his break. He took the role of George Bailey, the suicidal father in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Actors and crew of the set realized that in many of the disturbing scenes of George Bailey unraveling in front of his family, Stewart wasn’t acting. His PTSD was being captured on film for millions to see. But despite Stewart’s inner turmoil, making the movie was therapeutic for the combat veteran. He would go on to become one of the most accomplished and loved actors in American history. When asked in 1941 why he wanted to leave his acting career to fly combat missions over Nazi Germany, he said, “This country’s conscience is bigger than all the studios in Hollywood put together, and the time will come when we’ll have to fight.” This holiday season, as many of us watch the classic Christmas film, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” it’s also a fitting time to remember the sacrifices of those who gave up so much to serve their country during wartime.

[benispunk]

Ticklish

logan howlett x reader

Maybe you discovered Logan was ticklish. Maybe you used it to your advantage.

TW: it's pure fluff, it's a little bit funny and the end is a tiny bit suggestive. let's just say Christmas came early this year...this was written this morning when I woke up and it's fully inspired by my own post

Masterlist

Every morning before getting out of bed, you and Logan had a quiet ritual. These stolen moments of peace were rare in the chaos of the mansion, where every day brought new missions, training, or too many kids running around. It was the one time you could just be. No responsibilities, no noise— just the two of you.

This morning was no different. Your head rested on Logan's chest, his fingers combing gently through your hair, while your hand traced slow, lazy patterns on his chest. It was a small act of intimacy, but one you both cherished.

Lost in the rhythm, your hand absently wandered lower, brushing against his side. Suddenly, Logan jerked like he'd been electrocuted. His entire body tensed, and he shifted away so abruptly that you sat up, startled.

“Logan, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laced your voice as you reached for him.

He cleared his throat, his usual gruff tone tinged with embarrassment. “Nah, you didn’t hurt me. Just… don’t do that.”

You blinked, confusion evident on your face. “Don’t touch your sides?” You tilted your head, studying him as if trying to solve a puzzle. He refused to meet your gaze, instead settling back into bed and opening his arms to you, clearly ready to move on.

“Come here. We don’t have much time left before breakfast,” he said, his voice low and coaxing.

But you didn’t move. The way he avoided eye contact and the faint flush on his cheeks told you there was more to this. You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Logan…”

“Don’t,” he warned, catching the glint of mischief sparking in your eyes.

You smirked. “Are you… ticklish?”

The look of horror that crossed his face confirmed everything. He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, but the threatening tone only made you laugh.

“Oh my god, you are!” you exclaimed, grinning like a kid who just uncovered a juicy secret.

“I mean it, sweetheart. You’ll regret it.” His expression was deadly serious, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Still laughing, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Logan. I’m not going to tickle you. It was an accident— I didn’t know!”

He gave you a skeptical glance, clearly trying to decide whether you were trustworthy. After a tense moment, he let out a heavy sigh and opened his arms again. You nestled back against his chest, your fingers returning to their absent-minded pattern-drawing. His hand resumed its place in your hair, but his body remained slightly tense, like a predator waiting for an ambush.

The silence stretched comfortably for a few minutes before your curiosity got the better of you. “How did I never realize you were ticklish?”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Because it’s a secret, and I’m careful. You’re lucky you caught me off guard.”

You laughed softly, your breath warm against his chest. “You know, I can keep a secret… but I can also use it against you if I want.”

His hand froze in your hair, and you felt his heartbeat quicken just slightly beneath your ear. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” You tilted your head up, giving him your best innocent smile.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but when your hand wandered dangerously close to his side again, he didn’t notice until it was too late. Your fingers pinched his ribs lightly, and the sound that escaped his mouth—a startled yelp—was priceless.

“Y/N!” he growled, but he was already moving. In the blink of an eye, you were flat on your back, your wrists pinned above your head as he loomed over you.

“What was that little scream you just did?” you teased, bursting into laughter as he glared down at you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he rumbled, his tone low and menacing, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips told you he was more amused than angry.

“Well, in that case…” You grinned up at him, eyes gleaming with defiance. “Maybe I should do that more often.”

Logan shook his head, clearly trying to hold onto his serious facade, but it crumbled under the weight of your laughter. The corners of his mouth twitched before he finally broke, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss that left you breathless.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered over yours, his voice gravelly and teasing. “You sure you want to keep playing? Because I’ve got other ways to make you behave.”

You arched a brow, your smirk never wavering. “Oh? Like what?”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and before you could blink, he nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp. His hands trailed down your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch feather-light but enough to send a shiver through you.

“Keep testing me, darlin’,” he murmured, his tone dripping with suggestion. “You might not make it to breakfast at all.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back a grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

His smirk widened as he leaned closer, his voice a whisper against your ear. “Good. Because breakfast can wait.”

XXX

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

BRING TO BOIL

coworker!leon x reader

tags: mention of child abuse (non-explicit), semi-nsfw. i be thinking about subleon ngl

Leon hasn’t heard a word of this meeting. Virus this, real life supervillain that, blah, blah, blah. Proper noun, adjective, verb—none of it means a damn thing when you’re standing across from him, looking vaguely irritated in your little black dress.

God, what were you doing? Were you in a club? Were you with friends? He hopes you were. What else is the purpose of a dress that could bring a man to his knees?

That’s Leon’s favorite place to be, on his knees in front of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t even have to be doing anything, either, he could be happy just having his head pet by said beautiful woman.

He snaps out of his thoughts when he notices he’d been staring at the freckle on your left tit for a bit too long, clearing his throat quietly and looking away. He looks back over when you shift a little, the sequins on your dress shimmering in the fluorescents.

When there’s a sufficient pause in the briefing, you raise your hand like you’re a schoolgirl again. “Excuse me?”

Leon wishes that hand of yours was on him, preferably on his back as you scratch him up.

“Is it necessary that I’m here? It’s my day off.” You continue, the hand holding your clipboard of the meeting minutes crossing your body to land on the opposite hip, then folding your arms.

You’re leveled with an unimpressed glance over Hunnigan’s glasses. “Yes.” She says shortly, continuing with the briefing.

Leon watches your jaw flex as you hold back some sort of snarky remark, visibly making an effort to calm yourself down despite the way you’re simmering with the way you measure your breaths in and out.

It’s easy for him to tell when you’re pissed off, you’re too expressive for your own good.

The meeting draws to a close and he flips over the notes to get the gist of it—exactly as he bet earlier—before handing his clipboard to Hunnigan’s assistant and letting you wave him and everyone else out before you, chalking it up to self-consciousness.

He’s less than a foot away from the door and into the hallway when you hurl your clipboard against the wall as hard as you can.

You throw the clipboard the way you throw a punch, shifting your weight in your hips and shoulders. “Fuck!” Papers flutter to the floor as he watches the board bounce off the wall and land with a quiet thud on the linoleum, pink plastic splintered in the middle.

You stand there in silence, chest heaving and fists balled up.

Leon turns around because he could never resist a woman who could kick his ass, chalk it up to mommy being a little heavy handed in her discipline. Well, that, and he’s never seen you so pissed off.

While he can read your face like a book, you also tend to swallow your pride and any emotion in favor of focusing on the mission. Eventually, you calm down, you’ve just gotta steam about it.

He leans against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “‘S this about your day off being interrupted?”

Eyes up, Kennedy.

He watches you push a hand through your hair, hands shaking minutely with the adrenaline rush.

“Yeah.” And he can see you rearing up for a fight, as if he’s about to taunt you for being a very stupid little girl to be so upset about a day off being interrupted.

Leon holds his hands up, taking a step in. “I get it. This exact thing has happened to me more times than I can count.”

Somehow, this seems to placate you. He watches you clean up the papers, crouched down on the floor in your heels. When something’s too far out of reach, you kneel and reach out for them and he has to swallow.

“I feel like the maid.” You grumble, standing up and straightening the papers haphazardly before clipping them against the board again. “Can the world just not implode for one day?”

Leon snorts and you mistake it for him laughing at you, head snapping up and eyes narrowed.

“Hey, easy.” He speaks to you the way one does an angry tiger, taking a few more steps into the room to be by your side. Moth, meet flame. “I’m right there with you. Next time I go on vacation, I’m leaving my work phone here and not telling anyone.”

Your shoulders droop. “I should’ve done that.” You sulk, mouth twisting to the side.

“Yeah, well, now you know.” Leon muses, gently taking the abused clipboard from you and taking care not to look you in the tits instead of in the eye.

He sets a gentle hand on your shoulder, leading you out of the meeting room. “Maybe you should get changed.” He says carefully, his hand having migrated down to between your shoulder blades.

Then, an idea occurs to him, a small smile appearing on his face as he says casually, “Not that I’m not thankful for the view or anything, but—“

“Leon!” You swipe at his arm and he has to fight a lovesick giggle. Mission accomplished, your mind’s off your disrupted day off and he has your hands on him.

Leon has to stifle a piteous sigh when he sees you again, this time in a leather jacket and jeans. On one hand, he’s grateful you’re not torturing him anymore. On the other, he’s never gonna be able to get that view out of his head. On the other other hand, you walk around looking like that, no matter what you wear.

He’s between a rock and a hard place, except he’s the rock and the hard place.

The helicopter ride is always bumpy to wherever you’re dropped off. At least it’s somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere this time, Leon’s full from his previous, more exotic missions.

You fold your arms around yourself once you’re off the helicopter, looking around with a frown on your face.

Leon chuckles quietly, pushing a comm into his ear and threading it over the shell. When you have trouble, he reaches over and helps you pull it on. “You’re still mad about being called in on your day off?”

You grumble, holding your hair out of the way for him. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Oh, of course.” He threads the cord around your ear, making sure it’s snug and coming to your side, keeping the wire pressed to your skin with his fingertips. “I think that once we have something to fight, you’ll quit brooding so much.”

“I don’t brood.” You huff, stuffing the comm thread down your shirt.

Leon looks away to preserve your dignity.

“That’s more you, in any case.”

Leon smiles, jamming his hands into his pockets. “That may be true.”

You sigh, pulling your hair up. Leon imagines tracing the slope of your neck with his nose, mouth watering at the thought. “Let’s go, I wanna be able to go home and brood in peace, sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You’ll never know the kick he gets out of being able to say that to you.

Real-life supervillain and cronies gone, you can focus on information. He was right, you look a lot lighter when you’ve had the chance to beat the shit out of something and kill it dead. You walk with a little spring in your step, now, and he so dearly wants to sweep you into his arms.

He refrains, but watches you hunch over a table and break into the mainframe of this little facility for a moment. He needs to write a cease and desist for your jeans, God. While you do that, he scopes out the rest of it, his hand on the gun at his hip with a flashlight in the other hand.

Pause, glance, listen down one side, then the other. Too quiet, it shouldn’t be this quiet. If Raccoon City taught him anything, if something’s quiet, something’s wrong.

Pause, glance, listen down another side. Leon wanders down the hall slowly, senses primed for whatever jumps out at him.

He gets his wish, tackled from the front by some abomination of nature and hitting his head on the linoleum on the way down. When it spits stomach acid at him, he dodges with a sluggish grunt, trying to shake it off and get out from under it.

At least he isn’t being choked.

Still, Leon can’t grab his gun or knock the thing silly, he’s not even sure this thing has a brain he can concuss. It’s almost sad that this thing and him are about equal in strength, maybe he should hit the gym.

Leon’s saved when you put two holes in the thing’s head. Unfortunately, it looks up and bares its teeth at you, getting up from straddling him as some drool lands on his face.

You empty the chamber into it with fear rapidly appearing on your face. He knows that look, he’s felt it more than once. Leon spots the fire axe on the wall and gets to his feet, breaking the glass with the butt of his gun and yanking it out.

He cleaves the abomination in half, splattering him and you in blood. “Are you okay?” He huffs, hauling the axe out of its shoulder and tossing it aside with a metallic clatter.

You nod, wiping some of the blood off your face. He wonders if you can hear after using a gun without ear protection, but that’ll be catalogued later, when you’re both home.

Leon registers the burning on his face a moment later, wiping fervently at his skin and wiping it off on his jeans.

“I can’t believe this.” He mutters, not even bothering to worry about his shirt rapidly succumbing to the acidic blood. You glance down, eyes wandering to the spots of skin you can see. “You get called in on your day off and I almost die because this thing is acidic.”

“Was.” You mutter back, putting your empty gun in the holster. Good, you’re still in good spirits. “Maybe I should be asking if you are okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” He’s a little woozy from hitting his head, but he’s a big boy, he’ll live. He might not if you check him over, only thing you’d be missing is a sexy nurse outfit.

“Good.” You hold up a thumb drive. “I got what we needed.”

“Good.” Leon takes your hand and pulls you out of the facility—but he’s maybe not the best man for navigation right now. You swiftly change roles with him, leading the two of you out of the facility and to the rendezvous point.

When you’re finally back at HQ being checked over, he slides a page over to you, his number messily scrawled on it. “Next time you’re wearing a dress like that, call me.” He murmurs, eyes half-shut, “Almost brought me to my knees.”

Chalk it up to the concussion.

[jinxyjinxer]

˗ˏˋ FELL ˎˊ˗ being his crush he finally gets to fuck

⟢ characters : Jayce Talis

⟢ warnings : m!reader, mlm, top!jayce x bottom!reader, nipple play, anal, jerking off, takes place during jayce's education, bisexual jayce that fucks around because I said so

It was no secret to the students of Piltover's University that one of their most prestigious students, Jayce Talis, liked to mingle with not only the opposite sex but also the same one.

He was young and adventurous, not one to settle down with the first person that confessed their feelings for him, preferring to just have flings or friendships — if you can call them that — with benefits. Which did not mean by any means that he didn't have his eye on a certain someone.

Someone he thought of very highly.

Someone he imagined every time he would mingle with a person that wasn't them.

He did not think of the person beneath or on top of him, no, he only could think about one specific student that he had his eyes on — you.

With how confident he was around everyone else it must have been easy for Jayce to ask you out on a date but no, he took months to finally even just talk to you. But you liked him secretly as well, so it didn't take long for the two to go further than just meeting up to hang out.

"I'm sorry I- you just were so close and I thought you were about to lean in- I didn't mean to-", Jayce stuttered as he looked down at you, having you pinned beneath him on his bed. He truly was a fool in love.

The two of you had spent some time together in his dormitory room, just hanging out and talking about god and the world until Jayce suddenly kissed you. It wasn't like you didn't reciprocate it, the chaste kiss quickly becoming deeper and steamier, tongues fighting for dominance while he slowly pushed you down to lay flat against his mattress, placing himself in between your legs and hooking them around his thighs, his already hardening crotch pressing against your own, making a soft mewl escape your lips which led to what he just said.

But you didn't want to see any of his shy and flustered behaviour.

How come he was always so confident around others but when he's with you he barely gets a word out?

"Fuck me, Jayce. I want you", was all the words it took for him to regain all of his confidence he usually put on display.

Without hesitating a moment further, Jayce leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss once again, immediately going in and letting his tongue explore your wet cavern.

He was on you like a lion on its prey, devouring everything you had to offer him.

His hands swiftly glided down from your arms to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and exposing your torso to him. Simultaneously his mouth began to wander, first kissing your jaw, then your neck and going down more and more until he had reached one of your nipples, taking it into his mouth, biting and sucking until he finally could hear that sweet voice of yours moaning his name so delightfully. But he wasn't done with just one, no. Once he was satisfied he gave the other nipple the same attention, his pants becoming unbearingly tight from how hard and turned on he was.

He then dragged his tongue across your torso until he reached the hem of your pants, unbuttoning them and pulling everything you had down so you'd finally lay in front of him completely exposed, your dick standing proudly and pre-cum drooling from your tip. Gods, how much Jayce loved this sight.

"You look... Divine", he said in awe, eyes fixated on your body, almost unable to draw away his gaze.

But the need to fuck you was bigger than the need to worship your body alone, after all he could do both at the same time. "Is it okay if we skip foreplay? I just wanna feel your hole around me", Jayce asked, almost begged, you, mind fogged by the immense need to fuck you senseless.

"I promise I'll make it up", he quickly added when you didn't respond which just elicited a chuckle from you, nodding and giving him the green light he needed to continue.

As quickly as he could, Jayce got rid of his pants and underwear throwing them into some corner of the room, his cock resting nicely against his toned abdomen, the tip red and leaking, twitching from how needy he was.

Not wasting more time than he already did he reached over to his nightstand, pulling out a nicely but decently decorated flask clearly full of lube of which he smeared a handful around his cock and between your cheeks and into your hole with a quick dip of his fingers.

His strong hands came down to grip your waist, pulling your hips up just enough so he could align his tip with your entrance, your dick twitching at the though of how his big and thick cock would feel inside of you.

You gave him a small nod, giving Jayce the last confirmation he needed to sink his throbbing erection into you, groaning at how tight and warm you felt around him, your walls snuggly fitting around him.

"Mhm, fuck...", Jayce cursed once he finally was fully inside of you, his eyes half lidded from pleasure and gaze filled with lust.

As much as he just wanted to move and fuck you, he knew how painful it was for you to take him without any preparation, so like the gentleman he was, he stayed still as best as he could, letting you adjust to his sheer size and girth as long as you needed to.

Once he knew you were fine and ready Jayce didn't hold back.

As soon as he moved his hips, he almost pulled out completely only to slam back into you again, making you moan out loudly and arch your back at how deep he was. Jayce repeated this over and over again, his thrusts becoming faster and harder with every time he slammed back into your tight hole.

It was almost embarrassing for him how fast Jayce felt himself near the edge of his orgasm. You didn't voice how close you were but he also didn't want to stop now so he just used one of his still lubey hands to jerk you off in the rhythm of his thrusts until the two of you came unison, Jayce having quickly pulled out prior to his organs, his seed and your own mixing and covering your stomach, chest and the sheets beneath.

[radioiaci]

Allowing himself to be maneuvered and undressed, he was pliant. He'd not been exaggerating when he said he'd needed Vox. It had been all he'd been able to think about really in between doubts as to the reasoning for them being here in the first place. Fond as he was of that ridiculous television head, there was an incomparable draw to being able to touch and feel the flesh of another living being. Hair that he could card fingers through while the other worked to rid him of his shirt.

But Vox's question earned another small breath of laughter, though it was quiet and considerate.

"Not alive," he explained. "Not dead. Not until you."

His own darker skin looked warm compared to Vox's paler, though the lighter color was no less appealing. With bare torsos, Alastor hooked fingers into the other's belt loops and tugged him closer to the bed, eager but not willing to rush the moment. Not when he needed something significant from it.

"It never appealed before you," he continued to encourage. It was a blatant stroking of Vox's ego, he was sure. But there was a deeper meaning to it. An established trust that he would not have afforded anyone else. To hopefully wipe the slate clean of his terrible word choice the last time they'd spoken of this.

The truth was, if it was anyone other than Vox...

They would have never gotten this far without being his prey.

"And I don't think it ever will again - if it's not you."

You. Just you, his gaze said. Serious. Fixed. Immersed.

Only you.

Vox leaned into the others mouth when the reciprocation was heavy and immediate. His chest had butterflies that were sinking into his stomach. Just nerves. Maybe just excitement.

He looked around without breaking their kiss. There wasn’t anywhere near to set it down. He pulled Alastor just the step or two to the left and set it down on top of the dresser. Then moved both hands to start trying to undo Alastor’s top too.

“Have you- when you were- alive..?” He whispered between his deep kissing.

When his shirt was unbuttoned, his skin was entirely clear and pale. A far cry from his deep navy skin. His chest was just as plush, but the nipples were pink. Not fluorescent cyan.

Vox couldn’t explain it but he couldn’t get enough of how Alastor smelled like this- or maybe he just hadn’t realized how much his sense of smell had suffered from having a glass screen as a face.

[blood-red-hummingbee]

Young and Dumb

NOT TWST, THIS IS FOR MY YOUNG JUSTICE DC SONA

She’d known him her whole life. They’d lived in the same shitty, run-down apartment building, and become fast friends, bonding over their propensity for fist-fighting at school and love of books. Riley had been the first and only person Jason had told about his home life. Her family may have been just as poor as his, but their door was always open to him, a warm meal and love waiting. When Willis got hauled away and Catherine OD’d, they’d tried to take him in, but he didn’t let them, despite how he obviously wanted to. They were living on a single mother’s minimum wage budget. Even in Crime Alley, that wouldn’t support five people. He was still over as often as they assured him they could afford though.

Then it happened. He got picked up by Bruce Wayne. He’d called them from his own phone, explaining every detail. Riley found it suspicious, but he’d promised that he’d tell her if anything bad happened. He never broke his promises.

A year after Jason got taken in by Gotham’s sweetheart, a new Robin showed up. She’d read about how he was violent, more so than the last Robin, not hesitating to shatter bones and wreck people’s shit. She liked the new Robin more, to be honest. She met him for the first time when she was fourteen. She’d stopped by a cafe on her way back from a binge at the library, and of course, that’s when someone chose to hold it up. Minutes after the man in the ski mask had burst into the building, Robin was charging through the doors, dealing with the robber with a few well placed kicks.

The room was silent after watching the brightly colored teen wipe the floor with the man with a gun - except for Riley. She’d laughed, drawing attention to herself, though she didn’t particularly care. Even with the whited-out lenses of his domino mask, she could feel Robin’s eyes on her, his lips curled up into a smirk. She matched it, meeting his gaze - as best she could anyway.

After that, she’d kept an eye out for the boy, not that she expected to run into him again for real. Until, one night.

She was out on her apartment’s small balcony, just enjoying the fresh air (well, as fresh as Gotham air could get), when across the street, she spotted a figure. She cocked her head, glancing around for anyone, before indulging her intrusive thoughts, and waving at the silhouette. After a moment, the figure jumped to another roof, seeming to ignore her. If it’d even noticed her in the first place. She should probably be thankful if it didn’t notice her. It was Gotham after all, and no one wanted attention from random people on rooftops if they were sane.

She shivered, pulling her small blanket around her and turning to go inside.

“Cold?”

She jumped, turning and whipping her fist out at the sudden voice. Robin just barely avoided her hit, leaning back just out of reach, perched on the small railing. She had two thoughts at that moment and voiced both of them.

“You’re an asshole, that was rude. And get off of there, it’s old and flimsy, and we can’t afford to replace it!” She waved her hand at him angrily, while he gaped at her slightly. “I mean it, off! You break it, you buy it!”

He plopped onto the balcony, crowding her slightly. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing?”

He smirked mischievously, leaning back on the railing. “I dunno, you’re the one who invited me over. That’s a bad idea, by the way. There’re weirdos out there. It’d be a shame for a pretty lil’ thing like you to pique their interest.”

She raised her eyebrows at the compliment, noting the distinct Narrows accent. “Says you.”

He clasped his hands and brought them to his chest, then down to his waist, swaying slightly and grinding the toe of his boot against the concrete. She’s sure that he was fluttering his eyelashes under his domino. “Aw, you think I’m purty?”

She snorted, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm. “No, you’re a weirdo. You go around flirting with every chick that waves at you? You should know I’m a minor and have lots of pepper spray.”

He half-laughed half-squawked, an action that seemed very familiar to her…

While he spluttered out a defense - ‘Wha- I’m not- I don’t-’ - she studied him a bit closer. She sucked at names, but she never forgot a face. Not in Gotham where seeing a person more than once was most likely evidence of something bad.

The slope of his nose, the shape of his jaw and the chubby cheeks peeking out from under his mask. His wavy black hair, and the way his left front tooth stuck out just a bit farther than his right…

The realization struck her abruptly, and she didn’t quite know how to feel. Several things made sense suddenly, though. 

Her best friend was Robin.

… Was she gonna have to tell him about her powers now?

Part Two!

[inkinflux]

Lakefront Liaison Pt. 2

Steb x gn!Reader | 1.2k | SFW Steb realizes he has a reason to care about his own safety now. You realize it's because you love him. A continuation of Lakefront Liaison but heavy on the Steb romance this time :3 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

The sun was a warm embrace, staving off the chilly breeze that rustled the trees above. Incessant quacking drew your gaze downwards, orange bills darting forward to snap up the seeds pooled in your cupped palm.

It was a ticklish sensation, and you found you didn’t mind being swarmed, webbed feet jumping up onto your shoes in an attempt to get closer to the food.

“Ravenous creatures,” Steb commented, pulling the bag of feed from your hands to try and redirect the fluffy crowd’s attention.

You laughed as one of the larger ducks pushed out its chest, flapping its wings to assist it in jumping onto the park bench beside you.

“Back, little beast,” Steb said all too calmly, placing a firm hand against the duck’s front to gently push it back to the ground.

You looked at him, bathed in golden light, his pale eyes darting around to keep the ducks in check.

“You’re good with animals,” you told him, pinching some seed from the bag he held and flicking it out further, trying to draw some of the birds away.

Steb shrugged. “I’m trained in crowd control. People are not so dissimilar to animals.”

“Who knew,” you teased, pushing your shoulder against his, “being an enforcer has transferable skills.”

He smiled softly, his face turned from you as he sprinkled more seed to the side.

Piltover was slowly healing. The cracks in the streets were filled with concrete and the strange calcium remnants from the hexcore’s implosion had been chipped off of roofs and walls. The new council had achieved a lot in a short amount of time, thanks to the influence of Zaunites like Sevika. Trade and transport blockades were a thing of the past, and it was becoming more commonplace to bump into people from Zaun on the streets of the upper districts.

These positive changes were not without their caveats, though. Ignorance still lingered like an ugly scar, and desperate people would always present risk until proper structures were put in place to support them.

The fresh bandage wrapped around Steb’s arm was a testament to that, having had a run-in with a shimmer addict who had drifted all the way up to the Academy. He had been struck down at the base of the new statue that had been erected, Jayce’s stony facade staring out to the horizon while Steb bled over his feet.

You had never told him how much he reminded you of him, and you weren’t sure you ever could. It felt like speaking it aloud might kick-start a self-fulfilling prophecy where his similarly good intentions and penchant for using his body as a shield would earn him the same fate as Jayce.

Still, his ghost sat between you, his blood and bone meal deep in the city’s soil. He was an unavoidable presence, even in death, and one Steb could never hope to live up to.

So, he didn’t try to. When you’d cleaned his bandages that night and asked him to take a break, he hadn’t put up a fight. He’d let you hold his hand to steady him as you pulled the clean fabric around his forearm, and he placed the same hand next to yours on the bench, silently hoping that you’d take it again.

“Wanna know a secret?” You asked, turning until your knees knocked against his.

Steb stayed silent, but nodded, watching the excitement bubble up in you.

“Caitlyn told me-” you started, then promptly bit down on your bottom lip. “Actually, it’ll probably mean more to you if I don’t ruin the surprise.”

Steb’s smile grew, his cheek frills twitching with amusement.

“You mean the promotion?”

You nodded excitedly. “She already told you?”

“Yes,” he answered, placing the bag of feed beside him and out of the way, “and I already turned it down.”

Your smile fell. “What? Why?”

Steb tried not to let your evident disappointment weigh on him. “I would have been spending most of my days in the slums of Zaun. In the middle of danger.”

You frowned at that. “I’ve never known you to shy from danger before. Especially if it means making a difference and helping people.”

He still had doubts, but when he looked at you again, he knew the decision he made had been the correct one.

“There will be someone down there, leading the charge. It just won’t be me.”

Your disappointment gave way to the relief you’d been closely guarding, a sigh that had your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your eyes closed and your brows pinched.

“You’ve been an officer for so long,” you mumbled, “Why don’t you want to make progress in your career? You deserve it, Steb.”

He relaxed into your touch, his chest a flutter of nerves.

“Progress isn’t everything, tadpole.”

The nickname he’d gifted you after the night of your less than graceful meeting still tickled you.

“Duty and honour… what does all the fighting mean if I can't enjoy the peace?”

The back of your hand slid against his, knuckle to knuckle, until he flipped his palm up, capturing your hand in his.

“Still, you turned down a pretty lofty pay increase…”

Steb squeezed your hand, drawing your gaze back to him.

“I have more than enough,” he said, looking down at you with such fondness it made your heart stutter in a way it hadn’t done in so long. “I wasn’t destined to grow old, until I met you.”

You drifted close to him, your heart swelling against your ribs almost painfully. He was so much like Jayce it hurt, but different in every way he needed to be.

His eyes were big and glassy, pale blue like the ice you’d skate on in the winter, when the lake froze over. You were already imagining Steb in mittens, hands in yours as you helped him find his balance.

Thinking about the future had become so difficult, until you started falling for him.

His dark lips parted as you nudged your nose against his, a playful tell that you wanted him to be the one to make the move.

He closed the gap, cold lips upon yours, his body melting against you like soft snow in the spring. He tasted of salt and caramelized sugar, his mouth still sweet from the pastries you’d shared for breakfast. His blush-tipped fingers sunk into your waist, tugging you closer, decidedly different from the last hands that had held you.

The quiet man came undone before you, humming his delight as you deepened the kiss, your hand pulled against the back of his neck, fingers tracing the row of small fins that disappeared into his collar.

You were practically in his lap when Steb broke the kiss, breathless. His cheeks were flushed, his frills dancing so animatedly that he had to bring a shaky hand up to try and smooth them down.

You pulled his hand away, pushing up to place a kiss against each cheekbone with a giggle as they tickled your lips.

“I should have known you would make a public nuisance out of me,” he said, his face cradled tenderly in your hands.

The ducks quacked happily as they dug into the spilled bag of seed you’d absentmindedly knocked in your romantic pursuit. Steb tutted when he glanced down at the scene.

“This crowd is becoming insatiable,” he joked. “Let me take you someplace more secure.”

You placed another indulgent kiss against his jaw.

“Take me away, officer.”

[paperclip-skz]

Christmas Special 😉

Happy Holidays.

head cannons ( smut + fluff + angst + delulu )

2.6k words

**********

Christmas special 

Chan could hardly contain his excitement as he watched you approach the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights casting a warm glow across the room. Beneath the branches, nestled among the vibrant wrapping paper and seasonal decorations, lay a small, elegant velvet box, its rich color drawing your attention immediately. Inside that delicate box rested the most important question one could ask in a relationship—a question that could change everything. 

As he stood by, his heart raced at the thought of sharing this pivotal moment with you. He envisioned the look of surprise that would light up your face, the way your eyes could widen in recognition of the significance of what lay within. All you had to do was open the box, and in that instant, both of your lives could transform. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and sweet, as he waited for you to take that first step into a future he had long dreamed of sharing with you.

You crawled underneath the tree, grabbing the first tiny box you saw. To: my heart, from your love. 

“What’s this?” you ask, curiosity making your insides twist. 

“Open it” is all he says, his smile shining brightly. 

As you gently open the tiny box, a gasp catches in your throat, and your eyes widen in disbelief. Tears threaten to spill over as you take in the beauty of what lies inside.

Chan shifts from his spot and crawls next to you, his gaze sincere. “There’s no one else I would rather be with than you,” he says, cupping your face in his hands. His voice is a tender whisper that pours his heart and soul into every word.

You can’t bear to let him finish, your heart racing as you nod emphatically, tears cascading down your cheeks. “I love you with all my heart, and it would mean the world to me to make you smile every day,” he adds, laughter dancing in his voice as he watches joy bloom across your face.

In a rush of emotion, you lean in and kiss him passionately, not waiting for his response. The warmth of the moment envelops you both, and when he finally speaks, his smile is radiant. “So is that a yes?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes. 

Minho wasn’t sleeping; he couldn’t. The morning sun crept through the curtains of your shared room, illuminating your peaceful expression as you slept. Outside, the Christmas morning snow blanketed the ground, and he loved it when it snowed on Christmas. The warmth inside promised a cozy holiday spent just the two of you, wrapped in the comforts of home.

“I love you,” he whispered softly. It had already been a year, and he still hadn’t said it out loud. He knew he should have expressed those words the moment he saw you, but they always got trapped in his throat whenever he tried to tell you while you were awake.

He struggled with expressing his feelings, particularly these. “I love you,” he said again, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake you. This had become a habit for him—saying “I love you” while you were asleep. He repeated those words every time he woke up before you. He knew he couldn’t say them when you were awake; somehow, every time he attempted it, his voice just wouldn’t cooperate.

You hummed in your sleep, scooting closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your forehead, and your eyelids fluttered awake. He loved how you looked in the morning—lightly groggy, sure, but it was the pure definition of warmth. Your hair was slightly messy, and your face was bare, but you always held a sleepy smile across your lips, which he loved.  

His chest filled with not only desire but a warmth he knew all too well. It was the same warmth he felt every time he saw you sleeping, the same warmth before he hushed the words you needed to hear.  

“Good morning,” you stretched, burying your face into his chest.  

He hummed, smiling warmly at you. “Merry Christmas,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his body.  

He was so utterly in love with you, he could barely comprehend it… “I love you,” he whispered. You lifted your head, not recognizing the words at first.  

“Huh?” you asked, a lazy smile draped on your face.  

“I... I love you,” he said again, this time, for the first time ever, as clearly as day.  

Your face fell open in shock before lighting up like a kid at Christmas. “I LOVE YOU TOO,” you tackled him, straddling his lap and kissing him. 

Panic courses through every vein in your body; you’ve never been this nervous since your first high school dance. Even then, it wasn’t as nerve-racking.  

“Baby, they are going to love you.” Changbin comes over to you, soothing your arms. Of course, he’s calm; this is completely normal for him. He sees them constantly; this is nothing for him.  

But for you, this is your first time meeting his group, his friends, his second family—some of the most important people in his life. “I just really want to make a good impression. Is this enough food? Is it too much? Did we forget something?” You rush through your words, but Changbin quickly seizes you and silences more words with a searing kiss.  

He grabs hold of your neck, connecting your lips with his and holding you there until he can feel you relax into his touch. Your whole body melts like liquid as his tongue demands entrance between your already swollen lips.  

“Calm now?” he whispers against your lips.  

“Mmhmm,” you hum, still relishing the feeling of his touch��until the timer for the ham goes off, and panic surges through you like you just spotted a spider on the ceiling.  

“Shit!” You push Changbin out of the way, nearly making him fall over. And at that point…all he can do is giggle and smile.

Hyunjin hated the sounds of Christmas. He hated the whole idea of it. The idea of a holiday where you are grounded in the fact that nothing is enough. Not enough gifts. Not enough prensesnts. Not enough money. Not enough time. The idea that he was not enough for the holiday. 

The fact that he was walking around a holiday market in his black oversized jacket with his friends was a miracle in itself.

His friends had coaxed him into coming to the holiday market. While they shopped and marveled at the decorations, he stood there, waiting for the torture to end.

Until…he heard you.

He tried his hardest to drown out the slurred words of the drunk carolers, but your voice was loud and clear. You sang each song distinctly. Unlike the others, you weren’t drunk or mumbling through the lyrics; you were singing with clarity.

“At least someone knows the words,” he thought. Forgetting about his friends, he followed the sound of your sweet voice. There you were, in a small circle of tipsy carolers who didn’t know the lyrics. You stood in the middle, wearing a bright red coat and a fluffy hat.

He paused, not caring how people passed by; he was simply captivated by your beautiful singing, even if only for a moment. A warmth spread through his chest, something he had never felt before.

Once the song ended and you took a break, he saw his chance. “E-excuse me?” he stammered.

You turned your head quickly, “Yeah?”

“You guys sang really well,” he blurted out, surprised at his own nervousness. He was never one to fumble over his words.

“Oh, thanks!” you replied, beaming at him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

His face flushed; he had never encountered a more stunning smile.

“C-can I” he stuttered again. 

“Do you want to join?!” you beamed. No, no he didn’t. But if it meant seeing you smile like that more times than once, he’d do anything. Even if it meant singing…. Christmas songs. 

He nodded his head, and you linked your arm through his. “Guys, we have another caroler!” Everyone cheered in a slurred victory, and you got everyone back on track to sing another version of "Jingle Bells."

Hyunjin whispered the lyrics over your voice, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

Han pulls you in closer beneath the soft, warm blanket, his voice laced with playful impatience. “Come ooon, I’m cooold,” he whines, his fingers roaming over your body, seeking out any warmth he can find. 

You can’t help but chuckle softly at his antics, allowing him to explore until he finally settles on a comfortable spot beneath your shirt. His warm palm rests gently on the skin of your belly, sending a shiver of warmth through you. You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling your body relax into the cozy embrace he offers. 

“So, what should we start with?” he asks, breaking the comfortable silence as you reach for the remote nestled beside you on the couch. 

You take a moment to consider, rifling through the various titles listed on Netflix while your mind drifts to fond memories. “How about…” you muse internally, your fingers scrolling through the familiar options until you spot it. “Dash & Lily,” you finally decide, remembering the small holiday tradition you and Jisung have enjoyed together over the years. 

“Sounds good with me!” Jisung chirps happily, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He cuddles up even closer, wrapping his arm around you securely as the unmistakable, cheerful ba-dum chimes through the speakers, signaling the start of the series. The sweet sound envelops you both, drawing you deeper into a world of festive mischief and charm.

“Smells good,” Felix comes up behind you as your hands knead the sugar cookie dough in the bowl. He kisses your shoulder and watches your steady hands knead the dough. 

You giggle at his delicate touch. “When are the guys coming?” you ask over your shoulder. 

“I’m not sure, but I don’t imagine them getting here until late,” he responds, tracing kisses from your shoulder up to your neck. 

You can’t help but giggle as his fingers dance over your skin, sending a flurry of tickles that make you squeal with laughter. “Hey, cut it out with the tickles!” you protest, but your voice is playful, giving away just how lighthearted the moment is.

Soon the bowl of dough is forgotten when Felix drags you away from the kitchen in a flurry of tickles and kisses, guiding you to the living room full of treats, presents, the sounds of a Christmas movie playing, and the smell of cinnamon filling the air. 

“What are you doing?” you say through a fit of laughter. 

“I want to give you a present a little early…while the house is empty,” he says. 

“Okay?”

“Wait here.” He dashes away and you spin to look at the film that’s playing. A moment later you hear footsteps approach, but you don’t turn around. Suddenly you feel Felix’s presence behind you and something shiny above your head. Felix lowers a necklace in front of you and clasps it around your neck. 

You lift the little pendant into your hands, admiring the heart-shaped locket he placed. “Felix,” you say in awe, the gold necklace shining brightly in the light. 

“Open it,” he urges softly. 

You carefully open the locket, feeling the cool metal against your fingertips, and your heart swells as you catch a glimpse of your favorite photo nestled inside. It captures a moment frozen in time—a group huddle with Felix and the rest of the guys surrounding you. In the center of the frame, you’re encircled by their warmth, their arms draped around you in a tight embrace. Each face beams with joy, laughter sparkling in their eyes as they share this unforgettable moment. The image radiates happiness, and as you gaze at it, a smile spreads across your face. “It’s perfect,”.

“I don’t need anything,” he pouts linking his arms around your waist. 

“It's not about needing anything,” you emphasize the word need as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, “its about letting the people you love to spoil you with the things you want,” you explain, smiling awkwardly at him and pleading with your eyes. 

“The only thing I could ever want is many more Christmas’s with you” he kisses the top of your head, making your heart burst. “Your my present every year” he smiles. 

Which linked the idea of your current plan…and your current state. It was simple, but it was perfect. “Okay you can come in!” you call out. 

Seungmin walks in from the bathroom with his hands covering his eyes, “walking in” he voices, his hands still covering his eyes, “not looking,” he teases. 

You grumble at his playfulness, “Minnie, you can open your eyes.” 

Slowly, he lets his hands fall with a smile wide on his face, but that smile soon fades away as he looks at you… nothing but a bright red pin skirt covers your lower half and a bright red ribbon is tied around your breasts, barely covering your nipples. You stand there, your body buzzing in anticipation as you see Seungmin’s palms begin to sweat. 

“Fuck” he whispers. 

“Merry Christmas,” you smile….and his eyes grow dark. 

“Absolutely stunning,” he murmurs in a sultry voice, his eyes dark with desire.

You’re leaning over your dresser, adjusting your earrings for a holiday dinner with Jeongin and his family. He had picked out a form-fitting black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, paired with sleek black heels and a glimmering gold necklace that accentuates your neckline. 

“You’re just saying that to stall the inevitable,” you tease, glancing back at him, a playful smirk on your lips as you run your fingers over the fabric of your dress.

He rises from the couch, his tailored black suit clinging to his body in all the right places. “Actually, no,” he pauses, his gaze locking onto yours. “Well, yes, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” He approaches, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him with a fierce intimacy.

“My my, is it a Christmas miracle? The infamous Yang Jeong-in is feeling affectionate?” you quip, turning to face him, your teasing tone laced with flirtation.

His breath hitches as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss meant to be soft and tender, but it quickly deepens into something heated and urgent. What started as a fleeting brush of lips ignites into a passionate exploration, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. Feeling the intensity of his desire, you find yourself responding, lost in the electric connection between you, the world outside fading away into oblivion.

You grabbed at his body desperately pulling him closer to you. But you knew it was time to go, so you pulled away “Jeongin, we are going to be late” you whisper against his lips. 

Him being the greedy little menace he is, steals another kiss before saying “they can wait a few more minuets” another stolen kiss “you know what I want for Christmas” his kisses move to the corner of your lips and down the line of your jaw. 

“What” you moan. 

“You, riding my cock and screaming my name so loud the neighbors know who you belong to.” his teeth graze your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.  

“Innie” you moan out having no restraint in your voice, urging him further. 

He pulls back to look at you, “aw look at you; redder than Santa’s suit, hm” 

[coldlovehotblood]

SNOW-KISSED SERENADE

izzy makes up for missed time by making christmas unforgettable

w/c: 3,264

warnings: izzy is disgustingly cute

a/n: this is an early christmas gift for my bff violet @rocknrolldecadence ! sorry for taking so long queen… IM ONLY AN HOUR LATE ITS FINE ITS FINE *sweats* anyway i hope you all enjoy some more izzy fluff. merry christmas! <333

divider by @/strangergraphics

You had been suspicious for quite some time.

Usually, your boyfriend wouldn't care if you were in the room while he worked. In fact, he often invited you to join him, insisting you sit beside him either in the studio or on the sofa of your apartment as he tested different chords and scribbled down a line or two. You didn’t have to talk to him or be quiet or help, all he asked was that you sat with him. The few times you questioned why he requested such a thing, he replied with a shrug, saying ‘I just like you close.’

But as your relationship progressed, he slowly asked for you to come to the studio less, instead asking for privacy. Of course, you respected this. Really, his music-making process was none of your business, and it wasn't like you fully paid attention to what he was doing every time you accompanied him. With this in mind, it didn’t bother you. However, when the conversation steered towards songwriting or what he was currently working on, he changed the subject. That was strange for your normally very communicative Izzy who freely blabbed about anything that was on his mind around you.

Again, you respected the boundary he placed, but that didnt mean you kept a cap on your curiosity. Holding your tongue was easier than holding back wandering thoughts. It hurt to be shown that he did not feel comfortable sharing his art anymore, but you said nothing. There was no point prying, as over the years you learnt that was the quickest way to put him off talking about or admitting anything.

It got to a point where if you walked into the room and his lyric notebook was lying open in front of him, guitar sitting neatly in his lap, he’d lurch forward from where he sat, no matter how comfy he seemed, and snapped the book closed, body rigid, eyes a little frantic. Maybe even panicked.

After a couple of months of this, you decided one December that you'd get to the bottom of it.

Christmas had been drawing closer and closer, and you still didnt have any idea what you were going to gift Izzy. You had tried to subtly bring it up in conversations for a week or two, but he caught you every time, fondly kissing your cheek and telling you he didnt need anything. You would never turn down one of his kisses, but they were very unhelpful with your search.

Eventually, you settled on getting him some essentials and a custom engraved dog tag necklace. Peel back the layers of rockstar and he was a simple man. You knew that, no matter what you got him, he’d give you a big, glowing, toothy smile and a hug.

It was Christmas eve when you picked the necklace up from the shop, his name crisply engraved into the shiny silver tag, and he had come to your apartment to share a takeout dinner. He hadn't seen you for a couple of days and had begged previously over the phone to stay the night, promising to pay for the food in a childish, whiney voice. You couldn't deny him. You just had to pray he wouldn't find the hidden, snowflake decorated gift bag you had hidden.

A knock sounded from the door as you stood wiping down the last bit of your kitchen counters. You had decided to tidy up before he came to stay, as you knew he would rope you into evenings spent lounging around, on and off napping and staying firmly within each other's hold. No complaints, but this usually meant that, with each day he spent with you, your apartment became more and more messy. Not a big deal, but it was easier to clean when the disarray was built from a clean slate, not the beginnings of your own messes.

You almost skipped to the door with how excited you were. It was always fun when he came to stay. You had missed him. He’d spent a couple of days holed up with the band in some recording studio, working hard on their next big project. He often became fully absorbed by whatever he was doing so contact with you would become sparse. You knew him well enough to not panic when radio silence came. It was hard to complain about it when the fruit of his labour tasted so sweet. Guns n’ Roses, as a unit, were so hard working and it showed in the quality of their music. Izzy was simply dedicated to his craft. It was one of the things you found most endearing about him. You admired his passion.

He was looking at his boots when you opened the door, head coming up instantly when you said hello. He was carrying a guitar case on his back and wearing less than sensible clothing, black button up shirt open halfway, partially exposing his chest. This, paired with ripped jeans and only a beaten up leather jacket to fend off the nip in the air, you decided he was one of the stupidest people you had ever met.

“Do you have a death wish?” you asked as he leaned down to kiss you. He just laughed against your lips and moved the two of you further into the apartment, one of his cold hands finding the side of your face, the other resting easily on your hip.

“Damn, miss me that much?”

“I'm talking about your outfit. Izzy, it's leaning towards minus numbers out there and you're dressed in ripped jeans with your chest bared to the wind? Are you looking to get sick?”

“I’m so hot, the cold doesn't get to me. I think I recall us having this conversation–”

“Shut up, weirdo,” you rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek before pulling away.

He muttered something about your apartment being cosy and you repeated with playful anger that he was stupid. He argued that it was worth it because he looked good. To be fair, he did. In fact, he looked amazing. He always had in your eyes. So naturally handsome he sometimes took your breath away just by standing there. But however well put together his outfit looked, it was ridiculous considering the weather, every slight breeze whispering with the promise of thick frost and snow. That view of his chest was gorgeous but tempted the low temperatures to pierce right through him. You couldn't have him getting sick.

“What do you wanna eat?” you asked as he shrugged the guitar case off of his back, letting it lean against the side of your sofa.

“I don’t mind. Just name somewhere and I’ll give you the money.”

“You know, I was joking when I said you have to pay for it. We can split like normal.”

“No, I feel bad for being away for so long. Let me treat you. And anyway, it's Christmas tomorrow. Consider this one of my gifts to you.”

You argued for a short while and ended up chasing him with cash in your hand, insisting he take it. He just shouted a quick ‘Love you!’ before running out your door, slamming it closed to make sure you couldn't grab him by one of his sleeves. You huffed in defeat.

Damn him and his long legs.

He came back maybe twenty minutes later, two pizza boxes in hand, and you ended up eating sat in front of the TV, a thick blanket thrown over your tangled legs. It was so nice to have him back and beside you where you could feel the mass of his body against your side. Sure, hearing from him on the phone and talking was great, but being able to actually touch him, wrap an arm around his and put your head on his shoulder, was so much better.

You thought it was your imagination, but as time went on and the two of you got closer to finishing your food, the movie playing drawing to a close, Izzy started to tense up. If he was uncomfortable, he was masking it well on his face, but from how you leaned against him, you were able to feel how his shoulders were tightening and you saw his fingers curl into fists over the blanket.

Eventually, the credits began and the two of you got up to dispose of your empty pizza boxes. You were in a fantastic mood and couldn't wipe the pleased smile off of your face. You didn’t want to. This was an ideal Christmas.

“Should I give you your gifts now? Or should we wait for the morning? You don't have to open them now, but I'd rather just have them out before I wake up too groggy to remember where they're hidden.”

You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed and eyes widened at the mention of gifts.

“Now?

“Yeah. Do you want to wait? I don't mind…” you trailed off when you saw him bite his lip and look down slightly, realising what was happening.

Was he nervous?

He didn’t reply to you so you said his name softly, startling him out of whatever daze his head brought him into.

“Um, actually, before you do, can we go sit again?”

“Whats wrong? Did you not get me anything?” you laughed nudging him.

“Well,” he took a small breath, “Yes and no?”

You tilted your head, not understanding. He ran a hand through his hair, still nibbling on his lower lip.

“Just come sit and I’ll explain.”

You started to suspect he forgot to get you something. You wouldn't have been angry– he'd been busy for the past week for goodness sake! Was he afraid you would blow up at him for it? No, you didn’t want him thinking like that. His presence meant everything, and even that alone was enough of a gift for you that Christmas. You opened your mouth to reassure him of this, but he simply held gentle fingers over your mouth before guiding you to sit on the floor with him, the two of you leaning against the front of your sofa.

He was still biting his lip, and the skin was turning to an irritated red, so you reached forward and carefully eased it from between his teeth

“You'll hurt yourself, love.”

His eyes widened again and he looked at you with an expression you couldn't decipher.

“You know, I won't be mad if you haven’t bought anything. That’s not what I’m looking for at Christmas. If that’s what this is, there's no need to worry.”

“No, it's not that, it's just…” he took a second, and you let him have it, “I have a gift, but its not something physical, if that makes any sense.”

You nodded your head and observed him as he sat there, no longer looking at you but rather keeping his gaze carefully on the floor. He took one more deep breath before reaching for his guitar case and placing it in front of the two of you.

For some reason, this felt like a moment– a movement for him and your relationship. Nothing was moving out of place, per se, but rather, moving in and adding to the solid connection between the two of you. The air was vulnerable as you sat there, watching him take in very intentional breaths. You could tell that, for some reason, he was incredibly nervous, and how you reacted to whatever happened next mattered. So, you didn’t move an inch and let him take his time, keeping your face carefully neutral but encouraging.

You could be patient for however long he needed.

“As you know, I've been working on a lot of music lately, and I’ve spent the majority of my time in a studio. I’m sorry for not being with you as much as I should be.”

You shook your head.

“No need to apologise. I honestly don’t mind. I know how much music means to you, Izzy. I would never take you away from your passion. Hell, it's your job.”

His eyes met yours again for a split second before he returned his gaze to the floor. His hands had begun to fiddle with the end of the blanket the two of you had abandoned previously.

“Thank you. I honestly don't deserve you. I’ve been more caught up in making music because I've been… more inspired in the last few months than I have in years.”

You smiled. That was genuinely great to hear. It pleased you to know he was doing well. His happiness rubbed off on you.

“And,” he continued, now looking up,” I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“Huh?”

“Remember when I used to ask you to sit with me in the studio?”

You nodded.

“It’s because you inspire me. I found that writing became easy with you there because you've been the root of all of my ideas. Ever since we met actually, you've inspired so many different things.”

His ears started to redden and your heart skipped with pure molten love and excitement. You could've genuinely leapt to your feet and sprung comically high like a cartoon, screaming with joy. That was so special. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You kept the same gentle and relaxed demeanour as before, but it was useless to try and hold back the giddy smile that took over your whole face.

“Is this why you’ve been so protective over your work?”

“Um, yeah. I didn’t mean to be so secretive, it’s just kind of… Kind of,” he looked away, that same beet red that grew on his ears now starting to come to his neck and cheeks.

“Kind of..?” you encouraged.

He took a peek at you before sighing, exasperated from having to be so honest.

“It’s embarrassing, okay? You probably think I’m fucking weird or something now.”

“No, Izzy. Actually, its quite the opposite. I think thats so sweet. I’m seriously so honoured to be an inspiration. You know how much I admire your work.”

He seemed surprised by your reaction.

“R-really?”

“Yes!”

He visibly became more relaxed, slumping a bit further against the sofa behind him.

“Oh thank God,” he breathed.

“Don’t tell me this is what you were so nervous about.”

“It is. I was going to buy you some clothes or something originally, but I thought, instead, I could show what I wrote for you. I burned a CD with a few of them on it for you too.”

Your mouth fell open. A few of them? Did you hear that right? He reached to open his case now and handed you a CD before taking the instrument out. You took it and looked at the front of the case. There was a paper slipped in the back of the plastic, on it, your name was written in neat cursive with a heart on the end. You genuinely could not believe what you were looking at.

He strummed experimentally, seeing if each string was in tune. You set it down and looked at him, eyes soft.

You were filled with so much love you could almost feel it coming up your throat. He didn’t realise just how much all of this meant to you, and you could tell. He was more at ease now, knowing that you were more than pleased with all of this. But you knew with the way the corner of his mouth raised once happy with the tuning of his guitar that he was unaware of just how incredible what he had done was.

You felt special. You felt loved.

“I was going to do this tomorrow, but now feels better. I’ll play you my favourite one, okay?”

You could only nod.

He began, and you were instantly enchanted. You paid careful attention to every chord, every word, every syllable. It was impossible not to. Everything about him demanded you look. He drew you in like that. The way his voice was filling the space made you want to lean in closer and maybe lean your head against his chest, but again, you didn’t dare move. The last thing you wanted to do was throw him off and scare him from ever doing something like this again.

He had been so brave and honest. You could tell that it took a lot of courage for him to tell you about this little secret. Izzy could be sappy every now and again, but playfully so. He was rarely so open. He was being open and vulnerable. Sincere. He had even flushed the sweetest red for you.

It was futile trying to stop the tears from forming in your lash line.

He finished with a final strum and his gaze returned to you once again, that unsure expression returning.

“What do you think?”

You sniffed before swaying forward and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He quickly put his guitar aside and made space for you, tilting his head to let your own fall to the crook of his neck. He put a cheek against your crown and laughed gently as you kissed all the skin you could from where you were tucked away, salty streams wetting your face as you cried. They weren’t just happy tears, but the result of being so stuffed with true, unwavering love you didn’t know where to put it, so it flooded out of you.

“I'm assuming those are positive tears,” Izzy spoke. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking. You could hear it in his words.

You pressed closer, seeking the vibrations that his voice brought.

“You are so dumb for thinking I'd call you weird,” you said, muffled by how you were positioned.

“How was I supposed to know how you’d react? There’s no way to casually say ‘Hey! You’ve been my muse since our first meeting and you’re the first thing that comes to mind when it’s quiet!’ I sound insane,” he huffed dryly.

You gave a scoff as your tears started slowing.

“I love you for you. This was really thoughtful and I’m a mess because of it. Are these tears not proof enough of my appreciation?” you joked, pulling away from his neck to look at him. “Should I run around like a headless chicken and explode into flames to show how this makes me feel?”

He let out a full laugh at that, making you smile once again. You noticed from the corner of your eye through the glass of the window that there were white flakes dancing in the breeze and you gasped, turning and pointing.

“Izzy, it’s snowing!”

“So it is.”

You took a moment to watch it fall like feathers against the black drape of night, contrasting colours striking. Beautiful.

The living room settled into true syrupy peace as you melted against your boyfriend's chest once again, eyes still steady on the sight outside. With the warm tangerine glow of display lights you’d wrapped around the TV stand, you felt a memory slip itself into place inside your mind.

You knew you would never forget that moment.

Izzy pressed a soft kiss to your hairline.

“Love you, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

“Love you too, idiot.”

“Hey!”

Silence came again, and you didn’t realise your eyelids were drooping. It was just so comfortable on his lap, his body heat bleeding into your skin so easily.

You had finally figured out what it was he was hiding.

‘Case closed’ you snorted internally, before drifting off, head blissfully empty.

[disapprove]

She was looking back at him with disbelief. Ruby didn't know if she had to feel insulted, or just glad that he was being transparent to her. However, his words hit her right in the feels and she hated herself for feeling that small and insecure. Because he was right; she didn't know a thing about men. She grew up without a father, and she was only a teenager when they left Erik and his father. Ruby could only compare him to the men that wanted something from her or her body: and those experiences hadn't all been pleasant. His words about the strength and fire he thought she in her, that she wasn't using it right, made her think. It did bring a shade of red to her freckles cheeks and she looked away from him. Maybe she did have a way of making this life her own, but she simply didn't know how to. And even as he spoke about his life, and explained what he had gone through to be were he was right now (she doubted there was way more to that, as Ruby had long before noticed his scars and the way he could speak with those eyes), she didn't know if were able to.

Either your fight or you fall. "But you are taller and stronger than me." Ruby answered slowly. "And you know how you choose the right words, defend yourself verbally and non-verbally, I'm not like that-" She shook her head. "And I don't want you to pity me." She just needed help. "That does seem appealing." - She mumbled to his words about burning down the castle, eyes finding his again. Ruby's caring instincts were aching to help him, put pressure on the wound that was open again, help him, but she didn't want him to raise his voice again or make him more angry with her. After all she was just taking all her anger out on him, the anger she felt to his father, her mother, anyone who ever judged her, and maybe even herself. That wasn't fair to him either.

The red head nodded at his words, eyes trailing from the dim light coming from the creeks of the barn before looking back at Erik. As the sun was coming up, it was still quiet outside. It was Sunday, after all. "I'll show you." No matter how mean she had been, no matter how much she wanted to hate him for being stronger than her, she still wanted him to be okay. She wasn't a bad person, she had to remind herself that, so that the Saxon people wouldn't change her. "I forgot to tell you that I brought a fresh tunic. It's not his, don't worry." The girl wrapped her thick winter scarf around her shoulder and held the tunic when she offered Erik her other hand to help him up. "Can you be silent for a little while? It is a small walk down to the river. It should be save there to speak again."

Once at the river, Ruby handed him the tunic and waved over to a big tree. It had become one of her favorite spots to be at. She would draw all changes of the season, for hours and hours. "I'll be there if you need me. Take your time."

Erik's jaw tightened as Ruby's words struck him like waves against a storm-battered ship. Her admission of helplessness—of being trapped in a fate she neither wanted nor chose—scraped against his pride and defiance. He had spent his life carving his own path, however reckless or dangerous, and the idea of surrendering to circumstance was foreign to him. Yet, as much as her words rankled, a sliver of unease wormed its way into his thoughts. Was it really so different for him? Hadn’t he been shackled, in his own way, to the legacy of a father whose shadow he could never quite escape? He hated the comparison, hated even more that her plight stirred something uncomfortable in his chest—a flicker of empathy he refused to name. Her struggles were not his, he told himself bitterly. She spoke of having no choice, no power, but Erik had built his life on the belief that strength came from taking what you wanted, damn the consequences. The thought that someone might be unable to fight back—that they might be powerless—was one he could not fully grasp. Or maybe he didn’t want to. His hand remained firm on her jaw, the tension in his fingers mirroring the conflict within him. Her defiance, even in the face of his dominance, struck a nerve. It reminded him of himself, of the pride and anger that had fueled his rise. Her words—about men, about their relentless drive to fight and conquer—brought a bitter smirk to his lips.

“You think that’s all we are?” he said, his voice low and edged with mockery. “Fight and make love? Maybe it’s true for some, but don’t assume you know what drives me. You speak of having no choice, but you don’t see it, do you? Even now, you’re not powerless. You’re standing here, spitting fire, trying to break free from the cage you claim you can’t escape. That’s more strength than you give yourself credit for.” The smirk faded, replaced by something colder, harder. “But don’t mistake my sympathy for weakness, Ruby. You’ve got claws, but you still don’t know how to use them. And if you think that makes you safe, you’re wrong. The world doesn’t care about your excuses. Either you fight, or you fall. That’s all there is.” His gaze flicked to the blood staining his chest, his lips curling in a humorless grin. “You think I wouldn’t understand? That I don’t know what it’s like to live with someone else’s choices choking the life out of you? I’ve lived it, every damn day. The difference is, I made it my own. I didn’t roll over and let it kill me.” He released her jaw abruptly, his hand dropping back to his side. His pride refused to let him linger on the strange mix of guilt and respect her defiance stirred in him. “Don’t tell me what men think of. You don’t know the half of it. And don’t stand here expecting me to pity you, not when you’ve got enough fire in you to burn down that Saxon lord’s castle yourself.”

Erik exhaled heavily, the tension in his body seeming to ebb slightly as his hand fell limply back to his side. His piercing gaze softened, though the fire in his eyes didn’t extinguish entirely. He glanced down at himself—at the grime, the dried blood caking his skin, and the torn, filthy remnants of his tunic. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the dirt and sweat that clung to him like a second skin. He grimaced, the pride that burned so brightly in him revolting at his current state. “Is there a river nearby? Or some stream, at least?” He shifted slightly, wincing as pain radiated through his side but refusing to let it slow him. “I’m not going to sit here, reeking of death and filth, like some cornered animal.”

[fuumiku]

It was Maid Day today yesterday a week ago so I got struck by inspiration to draw the worsties, and it ran away from me into a whole AU where they’re coworkers at a maid cafe. She’s a med student & this is just a part time job, and this is his depression job while he gets his life back together. He needs something he can be workaholic about to forget what it’s like having a personal life and personal issues. He’s actually the accountant, but the new hire janitor (Izutsumi) doesn’t show up for half her shifts and is a sloppy worker, so he gets the extra work of doing her job on top of his because he’s undervalued and overworked. Of course, janitors also have an uniform to keep the aesthetic cohesion as they go about cleaning the place, of course.

Senshi’s the part time cook you only see slivers off, he’s kind and warm when you do see him and have a chat but most shifts he’s in and out the kitchen without a trace. Laios and Falin are regulars because Falin and Marcille are besties & in the same med school, Laios accompanies Falin as she visits her friend at work and gets hooked on the food. Chilchuck has to remind Marcille to work instead of chatting with Falin for an hour, and next thing he knows she’s distracting him from work too. That’s it that’s the AU. Inspired by this idol AU fanart a bit <3

This was not meant to be birthday gift but well…… Happy bday Chil!!!

Read from left to right

[asexual-shelly]

hi *throws this at you and runs headfirst into a lamppost*

[moeblob]

Rey, who is in my very biased opinion, one of the funniest "girls" I have because she's just a guy, truly. Like Rey is just short for Reynold because he was recruited by a a goddess to help the hero she selected and the hero is conveniently Reynold's younger brother. So he agrees to help under the condition that the goddess gives him a female body for the other world. She's like "really odd flex but whatever" and gives him a female form and he's like "you know. I can't really blame anyone but myself for not specifying 'please don't turn me into a Lisa Frank personification'."

[linkvcr]

Oh my god. Finished minish cap btw