#I have more thoughts but cant word them yet :/

[synity]

hii, i really love your writing 🤍🤍🤍🤍 but if you can, could you perhaps write the when words cut too deep jun but this time with seungcheol? if you cant then its okeyy !! thank you amd please keep going with your writing!!

When Words Cut Too Deep - Choi Seungcheol ver

(Choi Seungcheol x FemReader)

*Angst, Drama, Romance, Hurt, Comfort, Slice Of Life, fluff, emotional*

You never thought it would feel like this cold, piercing, and suffocating.

The conference room was still ringing with the sound of Seungcheol’s sharp voice. What stung more than his words was the way he didn’t even look at you as he delivered them. Just like another one of his employees. Another problem to solve. Not someone he once held like you were his whole world.

“You’re supposed to be smart,” he had snapped. “Use your brain, not your feelings.”

Your fists had clenched beneath the table. Your cheeks had burned, not just because the other department heads were watching in shocked silence, but because this wasn’t just Seungcheol the CEO scolding a junior manager. This was your Seungcheol. Or at least, he used to be.

You had been in love once. The late-night takeout in his penthouse kitchen, falling asleep with your head on his chest, the way he whispered your name like a prayer when the world got too loud. He used to touch you so gently, speak to you like you were his peace.

But now?

Now you were just another file in his overflowing inbox.

The argument had started weeks ago.

You had brought up an idea a merger with a mid-sized tech firm that could help expand Choi Group’s digital footprint. It wasn’t your job to pitch ideas like that, but you knew the numbers. You had researched for months, sleepless nights in front of your laptop. You had done it partly for the company… and partly for him.

But when you brought it up in a meeting, he had shut you down. Coldly. In front of everyone.

“This isn’t your lane. Stay in it.”

Those five words had crushed the breath from your lungs.

Later that night, you tried to confront him.

“You embarrassed me,” you had whispered in his office, the city lights casting a pale glow across his sharp jawline.

He didn’t even look up from his screen. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Cheol,” you murmured, the nickname slipping from your lips before you could catch it. “Is this about us? Or is this really about the proposal?”

That’s when he looked at you. And that’s when you wished he hadn’t.

“Don’t mix business with emotions,” he said, his voice like ice. “You wanted to work here. I gave you a job. But don’t think that makes you special.”

You staggered back as if he had slapped you. You didn’t reply. What was there to say?

Weeks passed. You kept your head down.

You stopped staying late at the office, stopped replying to his “you home yet?” texts that never came anymore. You stopped bringing him his favorite black coffee before his morning meetings. Because he stopped smiling at you. Because he stopped being yours.

But he wasn’t with anyone else either. You saw it. The way he would glance at your empty seat in the cafeteria. The way he stood in the hallway outside your office sometimes but never knocked.

You were both stuck in this cruel purgatory lovers pretending to be strangers.

The final straw came on a Thursday.

You were presenting numbers on the latest campaign’s reach, hands trembling slightly as you flipped through the slides. Everyone seemed pleased. Except him.

“You call this growth?” Seungcheol scoffed, arms crossed tightly, jaw tense.

“Sir, we beat last quarter’s projections by 16%,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not enough,” he snapped, slamming the report shut.

Silence fell.

You were humiliated. Again. But this time, it wasn’t just the words. It was the look. As if you were nothing.

Later that night, you sat alone in your apartment, hugging a pillow on your couch. You didn’t cry. You couldn’t. There were no tears left.

Your phone buzzed.

[Seungcheol: We need to talk.]

You stared at it for a while. And then you typed:

[We already said everything, didn’t we?]

There was no reply.

The apartment felt different now.

Quieter. Still.

The coffee machine beeped like it always did, and the sunlight filtered through the windows the same way it had a hundred mornings before. But today, everything felt like it was holding its breath — as if the walls themselves remembered the fight from the night before.

Seungcheol had said nothing when you left.

And you… had no more energy to cry.

You stayed at a hotel that night. Not because you wanted to punish him, but because you didn’t trust yourself not to fall apart in front of him again. You were trying to put space between his words and your heart. Trying to remember who you were before you became the girl who wilted under his anger.

You had only been honest. You were hurting. You were exhausted from always being the one to wait for him, to adjust, to shrink yourself around his empire of meetings and boardrooms and endless missed dinners.

But when you brought it up, he looked at you like you'd just stabbed him. And he’d said those words sharp, cold, humiliating words that now echoed like poison:

“Then why are you still here? If I’m so terrible?”

You still couldn’t believe it. Not from him. Not from the man who used to bring you soup when you had cramps, who used to fall asleep holding your hand like he was afraid of losing you in the night.

But now… he was too busy for you.

And worst of all he acted like you were the problem for noticing it.

Seungcheol sat in his office the next day, staring at a spreadsheet he hadn’t read in thirty minutes.

He was distracted. Frustrated. Empty.

And he hated himself for it.

No matter how much money he made, how powerful his title sounded, or how many people bowed when he entered a room none of it could silence the ache in his chest.

He hadn’t heard from you since last night.

No text. No call. Not even a message to say you were safe.

And he deserved it.

He buried his head in his hands, exhaling sharply.

“God… what have I done?”

You came back to the apartment two days later.

Only to pick up a few clothes. You weren’t ready to see him.

But he was already there.

“Y/N.”

You froze in the doorway.

He looked like he hadn’t slept. His tie was loose, and there was a tension in his eyes that wasn’t usually there not even during board meetings or company crises.

“Did you come to pack everything?” he asked quietly.

“I came to get what I need. That’s all.”

He winced at the flatness in your voice. The way it didn’t tremble just like a door slowly closing.

“I deserved what you said,” he admitted.

You turned slightly, still avoiding his eyes.

“I was angry. Tired. But that doesn’t excuse it. I made you feel small when all you did was love me.”

You said nothing. Just clenched the handle of your suitcase tighter.

“I thought I was protecting you by keeping work stress away from home, but I was just… pushing you away. And when you finally told me how much it hurt, I-” He cut himself off. “I attacked you, because I was ashamed I didn’t notice sooner.”

You stayed still, trying to keep your expression unreadable.

“I’m not proud of what I said,” he added softly. “But I swear on everything I have, I didn’t mean a single word of it.”

He walked closer, cautious, as if one wrong step might shatter whatever fragile thread still connected you.

“I’ve been thinking of the night we met,” he murmured. “That shy girl who caught my eye at a company dinner. Who didn’t care that I was CEO, or that people whispered when I spoke to her. You made me feel like I could be just Seungcheol.”

A pause. A flicker of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You still make me feel like that.”

Finally, you looked at him.

His eyes were wet. Honest. Cracked open in the most vulnerable way.

You didn’t know what to say. Not yet.

So you stepped forward just enough to close the space and whispered:

“Then start showing it. Every day. Not just when I’m walking away.”

His throat bobbed as he nodded.

“I will.”

“I don’t need grand gestures,” you said quietly. “I just need to matter to you, even when your world gets loud.”

“You do,” he said quickly. “You always did. I was just too blind to see I was hurting you.”

There was silence again. Heavy with things still unspoken but lighter than before.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny velvet box.

You blinked.

“What…?”

“It’s not a proposal,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Not yet. I just— I bought this weeks ago. Because I was planning to ask you to move in with me officially. To make this our home.”

He opened the box.

A delicate ring sat inside simple, beautiful, with a tiny engraved message only you would understand.

“You first, always.”

Your hand trembled.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away,” he added. “But… can we start over? Please?”

You stared at him.

At the man who could break your heart in one breath and patch it together the next. The man who held too much power over your feelings but at least now, he finally understood it.

You nodded.

“I’ll try.”

He exhaled like he’d been underwater too long and finally reached the surface.

Then you stepped into his arms. Slowly. Cautiously.

And when his arms wrapped around you, holding you like something precious, something irreplaceable you allowed yourself, just for now, to believe in him again.

[httpuckdrop]

patience – ws2

the three times it was supposed to happen, and the one time it did.

alternatively: realizing will was worth waiting for.

pairing: will smith x reader

genre: smut, fluff, college!au

word count: 6.5k

warnings: first time together, protected sex... no major warnings

author's note: in celebration of my baby very likely being in my home town right now, i decided to finally post this! my will smut ive been working on for ages (since 3rd of march) !!! so excited to finally be done and post it. hope you enjoy reading it <3 (also someone pls come give me a hug bcs usa is playing here tomorrow but i have an mri scan at that exact time so i cant go see him 💔 truly heartbreaking)

18+ content below, minors dni !!

there's a certain intent in the way will kisses you; a certain hunger, a certain need. it's obvious in the way his fingers trace along your skin beneath your shirt, the way his crotch instinctively rolls down against yours, the sounds he lets out. it's hard not to mistake – he wants you, and you'll gladly give him everything he wishes for.

the truth is, though, that you've not yet had sex with will, despite going out for several months. you have discussed it before, but not in too many details; mostly in words along the lines of 'it'll happen when it's time' and 'we're in no rush'. neither of you lives alone, and there's always something coming in between – a hockey game, an exam, a roommate throwing a stupid party – so it's rare for you to find a time and place that fits your desires and needs.

you and him aren't virgins, yet you aren't the most experienced either, so you've still felt a certain excitement when imagining your first time with him. and at this moment, when will's fingers begin to reach for the front of your jeans, the anticipation swells – multiplies, even – as if your entire body is holding its breath.

your dorm room is quiet, save for the low volume of the long forgotten movie playing on your laptop by the foot of your bed. the space is filled with a scent will recognizes as a mix of your favorite scented candles from that little indie store a few blocks away from campus. he parts from your lips and begins trailing kisses down your jaw as his thumb and pointer finger tease your zipper, before finally pulling it down and popping the button. "is... are you..." his breath tickles your skin as he speaks, mouth having moved to the front of your throat. "is this okay?"

you merely nod, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his fingers trailing along the waistband of your panties, before remembering that he can't see. "y-yes," you let out, the word breathy on your tongue. will nuzzles his nose against the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, two fingers moving even further down.

"thought so," he says with a chuckle. "you're so wet that i can feel it through the fabric..." he trails his fingers along your slit over your panties, and a shudder passes through your body. "assumed i was doing something right."

"what can i say? you're a good kisser." your hands reach for his shoulders, holding onto them tightly as your head tips back with pleasure when he finally slips past the fabric, finding his way through the folds as if an expert on your body. "we should be quiet, though... daisy is in her room, and..."

will doesn't need to hear more. although he's sure that overhearing some muffled moans won't be the worst thing your dormmate will ever go through, he understands why you would find it awkward to run into your friend if she knew what happened behind your closed doors.

however, it doesn't affect the way he brushes his thumb against your clit, or bites down right above your collarbone, or-

suddenly, someone calls out your name. someone who isn't will.

as if daisy heard you mention her name, she has now found her way to your door, the sound of gentle knocks meeting your ear. "are you almost ready?" she asks, and you frown instinctively.

"ready for what?" you say back, one hand reaching to pull will's head from your skin to halt him.

"for the meeting at the student union." a memory flashes before your eyes. "you said you'd go with me, remember?"

you do remember. you and daisy planned this weeks ago; she really wants to engage in some boring agenda and planning stuff at the student union, but feels too shy to go to these things alone. so, as the good friend you are, you'd promised to tag along to support her.

of course the meeting is tonight, the first time will had gotten into your pants – even if it was just a finger or two.

"right," you say, clearing your throat and letting your gaze meet will's. "i'll be ready in just a few."

the guilt in your eyes is sincere, and will sees it. he accepts the apology you offer him and unwillingly removes his hand from you. "another time?" he asks, straightening up on the bed and allowing you to push yourself to sit next to him.

"another time," you assure him.

"well," he starts, and he's wearing a mischievous grin that you can't quite figure out yet. "until next time..." and then he lifts his fingers to his mouth, pushing them past his lips, and licking himself clear of your juices.

"you're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

you had understood the meaning behind will's call the second he uttered those magical words.

"i'm at the apartment and gabe's not here… maybe you could come over and chill?"

and that's how you find yourself here, on the couch of an off-campus apartment, making out with your boyfriend. fridays are the only days of the week when you don't have any classes, so you'd just been lounging around your apartment and studying when will called, meaning that you just threw on the first things you could find before hurrying off to his place.

it hadn't taken long for the two of you to get settled on the couch in his living room with some random show playing on the tv. just sitting next to him felt too far away, so you climbed into his lap – though, to no surprise of will's, with your back facing the tv. he knew you weren't going to be focusing on the show for much longer anyway.

your lips are already swollen from the kissing, but you can't get enough. his cologne mixes with his natural scent and it's too unbearable, making you just want to swallow him whole. his hands have since long wandered down to your hips, but when they slip beneath your skirt and land on your cheeks, your breath hitches in your throat. he gives your ass a firm squeeze, resulting in you pressing your crotch down against his. there's only the thin material of your underwear separating you from his jeans, and the friction feels far too good to be true.

will takes note of the sounds you're letting out, the little whimpers and weak moans, and keeps on pressing you forward, rolling your hips over his. he bites down on your bottom lip, before soothing the sting with a lick of his tongue and pulling back slightly. "you're-" he cuts himself off to clear his throat, clearly affected by the way you gaze down at him. "you're a fucking dream, did you know that?"

your hand reaches up to brush away a stray curl from his forehead, before raking through his blonde hair. "could say the same thing about you," you tell him, leaning in to briefly brush your lips against his again. "shouldn't we at least go to your room, though?"

will shakes his head, nudging your nose with his. "gabe has classes until four on fridays."

he kisses you with the same type of intensity, as if you'd never even parted. his arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him as your other hand makes its way to the back of his head too. when he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, you can't stop your fingers from pulling on his hair – which draws out an unexpected sound from his throat.

you pull back slightly, eyebrows raised. "oh, you have a thing for that?"

"for what?"

"hair pulling," you chuckle.

"dunno what you're talking abou-" his words get cut off when he feels you repeating your actions, fingers getting lost in his curls and pulling so heavenly. his eyes flutter closed, and you can't help but giggle, instead draping your arms around the back of his neck and leaning in even closer.

"it's cute," you tell him, peppering a thousand quick kisses all over his cheek and jaw before letting your hands wander down to the front of his body. "and it's now noted for future use."

as your fingers begin working on the buttons of his shirt, he presses his lips to your neck, licking and nibbling at every inch of skin he can reach. his own hands sneak under your sweatshirt, sliding up your sides and tracing his thumbs along your ribs, before going even further and-

"are you serious?" he asks, biting down on your skin right below your ear as if physically scolding you. "you're really not wearing a bra?"

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his cold hands cup your bare breasts, and you sigh. "i, um... wasn't wearing one when you called," you explain. it's hard to find the right words when he skims his calloused fingertips over your already hardened nipples, making all your thoughts clouded. "didn't bother putting one on... since i was in a rush..."

the feeling of your round, perky tits in his hands is something he could die for, will thinks; this moment right here tops anything he's been through before. combined with the feeling of your nails scratching their way down his now revealed chest, it's equal to heaven.

it all feels so hasty and messy, and maybe it isn't the most romantic of ways to do this, but you two are too eager to care – you just want each other, no matter how.

he's just about to help you get him out of the shirt when suddenly, a sound breaks through his hazy mind. the apartment door crashes shut, and you both freeze in your tracks. "will? man, you'll never guess what-"

gabe perreault, will's best friend, teammate and roommate, suddenly stands in the doorway to the living room. you hold your breath, as if that will make him disappear and undo this entire scene, and will's hands drop to your hips, where you can clearly feel his fingers tense up.

either gabe is blatantly stupid, or else he has seen way worse things in life and just doesn't care – because he just smiles at you and struts into the room. "hi there," he greets you. "didn't know you were coming over. but the more the merrier, right?" you shoot will an alarmed look once gabe settles next to you both on the couch, and your boyfriend looks just as surprised as you. "what are we watching?"

the next time you and will have time to get into a similar situation is over a week later. it's saturday, and the eagles have just won against harvard, which most of the team is out celebrating – but not will. not when daisy is staying over at her boyfriend's place and has left the dorm just for you.

will has no time for celebrating when there's a real chance that he'll get to spend the night inside his girlfriend.

the two of you had this night planned for several days, and you always assumed you'd be lip-locked from the get-go and then get down to business instantly. but on the contrary, the night started off quite slowly; with a movie playing on your laptop yet again, with you cuddled up to his side and his arm draped across your shoulders, and with you both sneaking little innocent kisses from each other every once in a while. since the game, you'd both gotten changed into more comfortable clothes – him in a white shirt and pair of gray sweatpants, you in cotton shorts and a bc hoodie – and the general vibe of it all is lighthearted and cozy, which is not what you had expected.

eventually, though, will's free hand finds your knee, and while the touches start off innocent, it doesn't take long before his fingers begin wandering up your thigh. his head tilts down so that he can press his lips against your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your neck. you sigh when he sucks on a spot under your ear, and his thumb slips past the hem of your shorts to stroke along the inside of your thighs.

with the way your eyelids have fluttered shut and your body is fully relaxed, it's easy for will to tell that the movie is none of your concern anymore. he still makes a point of retracting from you and sitting up more properly, one hand grabbing your laptop. "okay if i shut this off?" he says, but it's not really what he's asking for. are we really doing this? are you okay with this?

you just nod hastily, hands reaching out to him. "yeah, yeah. just come here," you answer, smiling as he pushes your laptop closed and places it on your bedside table before crawling over you. loud and clear.

the first brush of lips is tentative yet completely electrifying. it sets your whole body on fire, and the way one of his hands lands on your jaw, his thumb drawing circles onto your cheek, doesn't exactly tame the flames. it's much more gentle than when you were sitting on will's couch just over a week ago – the slow kisses and unspoken want making your chest ache – yet, there's still a strong sense of neediness behind it.

his shirt comes off in just a second, and then follows your hoodie, leaving you in just a lacy, black camisole that does a pretty poor job of hiding what's going on underneath it. he can't hold back from reaching down to pinch your nipple through the fabric of your top, loving the way you squirm and whine. "so needy already?" he asks, humming at the way your hands grab at his shoulders.

"always needy for you," you hum, tipping your head back as he presses a gentle kiss to the front of your throat, feeling your pulse beneath your skin. he then moves up to lock his lips with yours again. he kisses you feverishly, tingles spreading through your body when his tongue meets yours. his fingers dip inside your top, refusing to neglect any inch of your skin as if memorizing every dip and curve of your body. the combination of him kneading your breasts and licking lazily into your mouth leaves you breathless in just seconds, and yet you honestly think you could stay like this forever.

still, you find yourself pushing at his shoulders and forcing him to lie down instead. at first, he's a little confused, but when you begin to climb on top of him, he obliges happily – having you boss him around like this is insanely hot, and he makes a mental note to repeat this in the future.

you straddle his thighs, leaning forward to trace a finger along the rough ridges of his toned chest. will clasps his fingers together behind his head, letting out a contented sigh as he watches you move down his body. you attach your lips to his skin next, and his breath hitches in his throat. he never could've dreamed about having such a pretty angel kiss her way down his body.

your fingers undo his zipper quickly and will helps you pull his pants down his hips, revealing the tent in his boxers. a chuckle slips from your lips. "so needy already?" you parrot, hands reaching down to brush against his shaft through the fabric. he's so desperate that he twitches even from the slightest of touches, and you almost feel bad for him when you hear the sound that rumbles in his throat. one hand slips past the hem of his underwear, pumping him a few times before rubbing his tip with your thumb and spreading his precum along his hardness. "you're bigger than i thought."

"is that a compliment or an insult?" he says around a moan, hips bucking slightly to try to seek your touch.

"definitely a compliment." you pull his dick free of its confinement, before slipping out of your shorts and throwing them to some random corner of the room. "i knew you'd be big, but... you're much thicker than i imagined."

"god, you can't just say something like that-" he visibly shudders when you lean down to press a kiss to his tip, and then a few more down the underside of him. you're practically itching to taste him, to feel his weight on your tongue, but then you sit up a little straighter again, deciding on something else; you settle on his crotch again, hips rolling down against him.

there's now only one soaked layer of fabric separating will from where he craves to be, and it's killing you just as much as him. his fingers dig into your sides, helping you find a good rhythm as you both grow increasingly impatient. you throw your head back, whining a little too loudly, and you can't take it anymore. "top- top drawer," you choke out, and will understands instantly, reaching out to grab a condom from your bedside table.

he throws it down to you, and letting you rip the packaging open and roll it down his cock. this is it, you think to yourself. god, i really hope this is it. please let this be it-

a signal fills the room. "don't tell me that's..." but yes, it is; will picks up his phone from the other side of the bed, holding it up to reveal that it's his mother calling. and to your greatest dismay, he answers the call. will, ever the mama's boy, has apparently never missed a call from his mother.

he's seemingly also never been able to read a room – or what it means when someone glares and shakes their head at him.

"hey, mom," he says, head flopping down against the pillow. "yeah, the game went well- oh, you streamed it?"

you sit there stunned. is this really happening? were you really just about to have sex with your boyfriend for the first time, but got interrupted by his mom? should you climb off him, leave him alone in the room, jump out the window from the fourth floor?

as if able to read your thoughts, one of his hands lands on your hip again, thumb rubbing along your hipbone reassuringly as his gaze meets yours. he looks apologetic and guilty, but it doesn't quite take away from the disappointment you feel. "mhm, gabe's shot there was amazing... i know, it was unnecessary for me to take that penalty, i didn't mean to..."

a tiny part of you wants to tease him a little, to kiss your way around his shaft, to see him stutter and hang up already – but he's far too good and he doesn't deserve it. he seems to really feel bad over what he did, as if he acted on impulse and regretted his actions instantly.

when he finally hangs up, he throws his phone to the side and drags a hand down his face. "so... your mom?" you ask hesitantly.

he nods. "i completely ruined the mood, didn't i?" he says with a weak chuckle.

"it doesn't have to," you reassure him, leaning down to stroke your hands down his chest, but he shakes his head and looks down at his crotch.

"too late." it wasn't a very long call with his mother, but there's not even the faintest trace of a boner left. of course. "she killed him."

you sigh and flop down to his side, squeezing your eyes shut. "are we ever actually going to go through with this?" you ask after a few moments of silence. "maybe the fact that we keep getting interrupted is... a sign from the universe or something. we're doomed."

"stop, don't say that." will tilts his head to the side, nose brushing against your cheek. "i think it just makes the anticipation stronger, you know? when it finally happens..." he presses a kiss to your skin. "it'll be worth it."

you sure hope so.

wear something sexy, picking you up in 20. x

the text is simple, but more than enough to leave a dull ache in your core. your thoughts wander too far before you can control them and remind yourself not to jump to any conclusions. this has happened before, you tell yourself; just because you're going to will's apartment doesn't mean gabe won't be there, and it doesn't mean that will or you will automatically be in the mood-

except, you both obviously will be. this sexual tension has been going on for far too long now, and it's been practically impossible to ignore. even just sitting next to each other in the dining hall, or walking down campus together, has been impossible; you've both been wanting to just put your hands on each other already, honestly itching to sneak away into an empty classroom and just get over with it already.

but you'd agreed. you wanted the first time to be proper and special. so, although it was impatiently, you had waited.

just "wearing something sexy" is not as easy as it sounds when you have all of the expectations in the world on your shoulders. granted, you put them there yourself – will probably would've found you just as sexy if you wore a potato sack – but they were still there. you eventually settled on picking out a fancy set of lingerie, deciding that they would be the main attraction anyway, and whatever shirt and pants you wore would hopefully just be discarded sooner rather than later.

there must be a certain spring in your step, because daisy gives you a knowing look once you leave your room and make your way into your shared living room. "you seeing will tonight?" she asks, and you can't help but nod eagerly. "well... i probably don't have to tell you this, but... be safe, okay?"

"of course," you tell her, shooting her a smile just as the doorbell rings. after strutting over to the door and opening it, you throw yourself into your boyfriend's arms instantly. he answers with a huff of laughter and a tight hug.

"you ready to go?" will asks and you nod, hand finding his before turning back to daisy and waving to her.

"don't wait up!" you say, and she shakes her head, grin on her lips.

"of course not."

the ride to will's place is quick, his hand never leaving your knee for even a second. he unlocks the door, holding it open for you, and something feels off about the way the entire apartment is dark – except for a trail of little tealights marking a path to will's bedroom. "where is gabe?" you ask, taking a few wary steps into the space. you're suddenly hit by nerves and the reality of what's going on, though trying your best not to show it.

will shuts the door behind you both, stepping out of his shoes before bending down to undo the laces of yours. "he's with some girl," he answers vaguely, and you give him a pointed look once he's helped you out of your shoes and stood up again.

"coming home when?"

will shakes his head, and the smile on his lips makes you feel relieved instantly. "never. i paid him to sleep somewhere, anywhere, else."

you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your height. "you're the best," you mumble against his lips before kissing him.

"you just wait." he gives you one last kiss before pulling away, one hand on your lower back guiding you towards his bedroom.

once he pushes his door open, you gasp at the sight. candles everywhere – pillars, tapers, tealights, in all kinds of colors and sizes – and as if that wasn't romantic enough, there are a bunch of rose petals spread on top of his comforter. will shoots you a slight smile once you turn to him, seemingly a little unsure if you like it or if he's overdone it, and your heart flutters in your chest. "this is... lovely. you did all this? for me?"

he nods once, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"seems like a bit of a fire hazard to me," you joke, though it's not completely unserious – but you suppose it would also be quite romantic to pass away because you were too busy making love to notice that the room was on fire.

will just shrugs. "everywhere i go with you puts me at risk of fire since you're so hot."

you give his shoulder a playful shove, but he barely reacts. he stands there, just watching you, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

you reach for the hem of your shirt, only then noticing that your fingers are trembling slightly – when did that happen? you've been dreaming about this moment for weeks, and now you're suddenly anxious? this is no time to be timid, you tell yourself, so you continue with your plans, slipping the shirt over your head. you drop it to the ground, making sure there are no candles right there, before pulling your jeans off your body as well.

left in just the white, lacy lingerie you'd so carefully picked out, you feel more revealed and seen than ever – it doesn't help that will still hasn't said anything or reacted, either – but you can't turn back now. so you take both of his hands in yours, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit his bed, and you sit down.

"will?" you ask, following the way his eyes slowly move up and down your skin. "where is your mind at?"

he takes a deep breath, gaze finding yours. "can i be honest?" you nod. "i'm... a little nervous."

his sincerity makes your heart flutter. "so am i."

"do you still want to... go through with this?"

you give his hands a squeeze. "more than anything." will seems satisfied by your answer, because he helps you lie down properly against the pillows and then climbs on top of you.

his kisses aren't tentative per se, but they aren't as eager as they were last time you were in this position. it takes a while to warm up before you're both panting against each other's lips, tongues tangling and hands wandering. not that you're in any rush; will wants to take his time with you.

he leaves a trail of wet kisses down your jaw, and then your neck, and then along one of your collarbones. he eventually pushes himself up to sit, legs caging you in. "i forgot something," he says and you slate your head as an answer. "forgot to say how gorgeous you look."

you reach up to give his face a playful slap, but he grabs your wrist.

"i'm serious. you look... straight out of a fairy tale." then, he grimaces. "okay, maybe more like a porno. not the kind of fairy tale i'd show to a child, anyway."

"god, you're awful," you complain, but before you can say anything else, will's free hand has slipped behind your body, sending you a questioning look which you answer with a nod.

he gets the clasp of your bra undone – albeit a bit clumsily with just one hand – and helps the material slide off your arms. his gaze is even more intense now, staring at you like you're something he's been dreaming about for ages. you're just about to give in to the urge to cover yourself up when his mouth returns where it had left off, teeth nibbling and lips sucking on the soft skin of your chest. "thought it couldn't get better," he mumbles, though not stopping his actions for even a second, leaving no inch untouched. he's like a starved man, and it's hard to remember that this exact boy was careful about even touching you a few minutes ago. "but it got a lot better. fuck, you're so hot."

"it's kinda unfair, though," you say, shrugging – or, as much of a shrug as you can manage when you've got a golden retriever man pressing a circle of soft kisses around your nipple. "that you get to see all this, and you're a hockey player with abs and amazing chest muscles, and yet you've still got your shirt on and-"

he doesn't need to hear any more, instantly sitting back on his heels and getting out of his shirt. the material falls to the floor, but he wastes no time before his face is stuffed into your skin again. when his lips wander south, finding the edge of your panties, one hand finds your side, caressing your bare skin. "can i make you feel good?" he asks, hooking a finger of his free hand under the waistband. "is that okay?"

"yeah, just-" you sigh when he pulls the fabric down and off your legs, the cold air against your revealed gender sending a shiver up your spine. "just… hurry, will you?"

will settles between your thighs, his sweet laughter sounding like music to your ears. as his lips find the inside of your thigh, he lets the hand that was on your waist travel south. the first touch of his thumb against your clit makes your hips jerk, as if you've been anticipating this for years. "patient, baby," he chuckles, nose rubbing the space where your leg meets your hips. "we've got all the time in the world."

after drawing tantalizingly slow circles onto your bud for a while, adoring the way you squirm under his touch, he finally moves lower. he collects your wetness on his fingertips before letting one slender finger slide into your core. everything about will is big – he's tall, he's got big muscles and broad shoulders – so it shouldn't be any surprise that his fingers carry some length, too. and yet, it does surprise you. when another finger enters your warmth, he reaches further in than you'd expected, and the stretch when he spreads his fingers feels far too good for just a pair of fingers.

his tongue licks a few stripes up and down your slit while his fingers keep on pumping in and out of you, before his lips settle back on your clit. the combination of sucking, lapping and circling makes your head spin in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and your hands fly down to the back of his head.

"will-" you let out, fingers tangling in his soft blonde curls. "i'm- i'm really close-"

he merely hums as an answer, keeping up his actions until he has you falling apart on his tongue. his chest fills with pride at the feeling of your body convulsing as you reach your high, and the whines mixed with swearwords you let out make him want to stay right here all night. what else could he possibly need in life?

once your breathing has returned to somewhat normal, and you're no longer tugging on his hair so hard he thinks it might fall out, will retracts his face from between your legs and looks up at you. he finds you blinking down at him with just as much lust and love as he's feeling, and warmth spreads through his body.

"you okay up there?" he asks, fingers dancing along your stomach as he leans further up to face you again.

you respond with a hum, hands reaching down to his jeans and beginning to undo his belt. "my turn to make you feel good."

will stops you, fingers wrapping around your wrists. "it's okay," he says with a shake of his head.

you frown. "i wanna get my lips on you, though," you fight back.

"you'll have plenty of time to do that another time." just as you're about to bicker back again, he cups your cheek in his hand and continues. "going down on you was enough for me. honestly, i was seconds away from coming in my own pants just from your taste and sounds." he tilts your head down, letting your gaze wander to his crotch. "see? i'm not even kidding, i'm so hard it's extremely painful."

"just get out of your clothes, then, will you?"

he stands up in less than a second, not even bothering to pull his belt completely out, instead opting for just dragging his jeans and boxers off as quickly as possible. he snatches a condom from his bedside table, pulling the wrapper off and rolling the latex down his length hastily.

"are you sure your phone is off?" you ask when he settles over you again. "you don't have a facetime call scheduled with your mother?"

"god, shut up," he mutters, leaning down to crash his mouth against yours. he bites down on your bottom lip after a few moments, before parting slightly. "don't even mention her, she doesn't exist right now…"

he swallows your giggles, his hands grabbing your hips to angle them properly before parting your legs. "i'm sorry," you tell him, fingers brushing away some of the curls that had fallen into his eyes. "just wanted to make sure no one's going to interrupt."

"i won't let them." will takes a deep breath, sighing softly at the sight of you beneath him; so bare, vulnerable, open; all ready for him. his tip nudges your core. "is this okay? can i…?"

your words fail you, so you nod, tensing up slightly in anticipation. will's gentle kisses to your temple and soft touches along your ribs help soothe you, and soon enough, he starts pushing into you.

ever since you felt his girth in your hands that night in your bedroom, you've been trying to prepare yourself; attempting to remember just how big he was, imagining how he would feel inside you, how the stretch would be... and yet, none of it prepared yourself for this moment right here.

you'd remarked about how big he looked, but he feels much bigger. even after him fingering you, it's like he's splitting you open, and it's taking everything you have not to scream your lungs out. instead, you take it out on his back, letting your nails dig into his muscles hard enough to leave marks – you probably will feel guilty over it later, but right now, your every nerve ending is on fire, so your care is elsewhere.

even with the stretch, though, it feels amazing. maybe it's because of the stretch, or maybe it's just a side character, but something about just feeling him inside you like this is beyond anything you've felt before.

after allowing you to catch your breath for a few moments, will presses his lips to your forehead. "can i move?" he whispers. "or do you need a minute?"

you shake your head. "go ahead," you let out, words half a moan and half a whine.

you feel empty instantly when he pulls out of you, but he makes up for that when he thrusts back into you again. he sets a pace, slow but powerful, and it's easy for you to get used to. his cock drags along your insides to deliciously, having no issues hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you arching your back and pressing your chest up against his.

"you're so-" will groans mid-sentence, nearly losing his mind already. "so tight. feel so fucking good-" he has to really control himself to not shoot his load instantly; to him, it feels like you've had several weeks of foreplay and it all led up to this moment. he's extremely sensitive already, and the way your walls keep on throbbing around him doesn't exactly make him less needy, either.

as his lips find one of your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipple again and again, his hand pulls your knee up to hook it around his hip. the new position allows him more depth and another spot to hit. as if you hadn't already felt so good it was almost painful, the new angle sends a jolt of pleasure through your body every time he pushes inside you. and when his thumb finds your clit again, you're unable to hold back the high-pitched whine that errupts from your throat.

will's brain short-circuited long ago, but at the realization of how good he's making you feel – so good that you're unable to hold back from shaking beneath him and letting out those sweet sounds he's sure he'll come to be obsessed with – he nearly loses it in a second.

"are you anywhere close?" he asks, and your answer comes in the form of yet another trail of nail marks down his back muscles. "because- shit, i'm about to-"

your climax crashes over you before you can react, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him. when your walls clench around him, he has no way of holding back, either. he lets go completely, and the hottest moan you've ever heard leaves his lips as he rides out both of your highs. he then collapses on top of you, but his weight isn't crushing; despite his muscular, hockey player build, it feels grounding to have him so close. to feel his heartbeat thud against your chest, to hear his warm pants right by your ear, to smell his laundry detergent from his covers…

"you feel…" he starts after a few moments of silence, voice a mere breathless whisper, before pushing himself up on his elbows to look down at you. "so, so good."

"you're not too bad yourself," you answer with a weak chuckle, shaking your head.

you reach up with one hand to brush away a few sweaty curls that had stuck to his forehead, before allowing it to cup his cheek in your palm. "i'll go get something to clean you up, okay?"

your nod is answered with a soft kiss pressed to your lips. when will slowly pulls himself out of you, it leaves you with a feeling of emptiness and longing – but the thought of getting to do this all over again makes it a lot better. "hey, will?" you ask just as he rises from the bed.

he looks back at you with eyebrows raised, a gentle flush still prominent on his cheeks.

"i'm glad we ignored the universe."

his expression softened. "never been happier."

[peonpeonpeonpeonpeon]

Squeeze It a Little Tighter, Please

ׂ╰┈➤ synopsis: feeling quite ill and not the best, you and malleus has quite an evening (hugging)

.—★ A/N: sickfic bc i have an immune system of a victorian child, this fic was supposed to be a part 2 of the glomas malleus fanfic but i cant write spicy things forgive me 💔, slight angst, yuu is DONE with everyone, reader is yuu

word count: 1.4k

It all started when the weather started pouring, well, damn you, you thought as you and Grim did not bring an umbrella.

It was even more hellish after you ask pretty much every remaining student in the school yet there was nobody who was willing to lend you an umbrella or some sort that might protect you from this rain. God, damn you all, you thought again as you went out with Grim under your jacket.

The final straw was when you and Grim were already drenched enough, the weather started crying out loud, releasing thunder once two seconds as the rain started going green. What in the otherworldly is this? You thought, again. Your mind is always running in place wasn’t it? You sigh. Your hair already soaking alot from the green rain, your clothes weren’t even protecting your skin anymore, and Grim was shaking while his ears twitch from the coldness. Why were you, a normal human being back then, is forced to live in this strange, foreign world? Why is this such a must for someone as normal as you to live in a world where you are outcasted as the weirdo? You never even knew this would happened.

That experience alone was not it. Back at Ramshackle, not only you were in the deepest level of pain, suffering and coldness, the warm bathwater is insufficient. probably because Grim bathe with it all. “DAMN MYSELF!” You screeched. Maybe if Grim wasn’t such a greedy big-back with nothing left but taking all of the remaining body temperature bathwater and snacks in the pantry, you wouldn’t be forced to take a bath in pure icy water but also left rotting away with only a stale cookie you refused to eat.

This sums up to where you are right now, probably your death bed if anyone tries to make it an inch worse after the minus love and support, but it also might be the safest haven of all time, your stained sheet bed in Ramshackle. Your resting place, your own bed that might be illegal for it not being your property legally, but you do NOT care at all. All of that weather? Damn you. All the students that did not want to help you? Damn you too. The unsupportive weather—Again—that keeps shitting on you even after you pleaded not too? Why are YOU even HERE? Lastly, Grim that took all of that life support, DAMN YOU ALL AND MYSELF! you thought all that.

With three tissue boxes right beside you, you whine as you are placed a cool wet towel on your forehead by the ghosts. Its not an everyday thing seeing yourself whine yourself like a baby, but fever isn’t a joke, neither is whining and whimpering like an unloved child. “Yuu! Isn’t tomorrow Professor Trein’s exam?” Grim jumped beside you in your bed. “Grim—Do not. Remind me.”

Grim’s ear twitched. “I was only asking you!”

“Grim, the Prefect is supposedly having a high fever. You mustn’t disturb them.” Thankfully one of the ghosts speak up. You look at the time, 12AM. You sighed, look at the ghosts and Grim fighting, and you sigh again. “Im going to sleep..” A tissue stuck up in your nose and your hair brushed like a lion, you hugged your pillow as you close your eyes and went to sleep. Surely your own sleep schedule is not gonna bother you?

Wrong. You stare at the dark ceiling, the wet towel now warm from your body temperature and a continuously yearning for tissues to use for your nose is now your routine. 3AM, that is. You feel water pooling around your eyes. Your coughing isn’t any better as you keep yourself caught wheezing like a donkey tickled by a butterfly. Neck now cracking every bone every time you move just an inch, your head now facing the big windows of Ramshackle. You thank god no one lives in this dorm besides you and Grim, otherwise they would have to suffer taking care of you ugly crying from how most students in this school aren’t even helping you even with the littlest things. Yes, you are magicless, yes, you are stranded from another world, but that necessarily doesn’t mean people should be unhelpful of you right? Every single student here are morons, well, except your friends and especially that one horned friend..

Green fireflies, that’s what you are excited about the most in the late night. Green light gathered around right outside in the yard of Ramshackle, you grab along with your blanket wrapped around your shoulders and fluffy slippers warming up your feet, you walk silently from upstairs to the backyard. There you see your precious prince friend, Malleus Draconia.

“Horn—“ You wheezed right before finishing the usual friendly nickname you call him. Right, this universe hates you. You walk up to him and just lean your head to his shoulder. “Are children of men usually get ill from the cold weather? Here, I thought you all are strong..” Is that an insult? What is wrong with you all? You sigh. Just accepting whatever’s reality and whatever’s imaginary. “I’ve noticed,”

You raise an eyebrow. A frown still sculpted on your face.

“Your body temperature has been going up, your face now slightly more tinted with rosy flushed cheeks, and.. conflicting fashion. Are you having a stage one infectious brain fever?” You blinked.

Since when is your lifeline is this drastic before? What about the old you, the past, healthy you? You are probably ready to die, you are sure, but not this soon. “Ah, I apologize for my dramatic claim, I am not one for a medical person yet I think you have.. a common fever? I remember solely that brain fevers usually have symptoms that..” Right, maybe Hornton was the wrong one all this time! You hope.

“Yes, you are right. Though I think, that overly descriptive symptoms aren’t gonna make it better, let alone calling it a brain fever.” You smiled, hopelessly. Squeezing your hug more towards Malleus’ body. It surprises you even more that a fae heats your body faster than a normal person would, well maybe the dragon’s cold blood is reacting to yours? But aren’t humans mammals? If Malleus turned his blood different from his dragon form, would that even be possible? “Are you sure you are alright with this, Child of Man?” You feel long arms slowly wrapping around your back, afraid to go any lower. “Yes, I am. I’m not even surprised to be treated an outcast like this, a magicless human suddenly thrown to another world hugging.. the Crown Prince Fae Dragon of Briar Valley. While being sick, by the way.”

“You sure are quite the fearless one, you do not fear that I might struck you down with lightning right now? That I might alight your veins into volts of electricity?” He snickered. His purple tinted lips pursed together in a smirk as his eyelids squint into your different frame.

“I know you won’t, Hornton. I trust you.” Water streams down your warm cheeks as he notices the effect this world has on you and how it comes with your body rejecting the unusual weather of this other world. You two stand there for a while, before he finally puts you off to a deep sleep in hopes to get you and your body working better and supportive. He sighs, grateful that you weren’t tall enough to realize his unsure pout and the redness engulfing his cheeks and nose.

“I trust you,” He thinks the words you whispered just now in an uncountable queue. “Trust, huh..” He puts his fingers beneath his chin, then focusing on your peaceful snoring in the distant. Malleus smiled, picking up your body and bringing you closer to him and teleporting the both of you back in Ramshackle, more specifically in your room. He puts you gently on the bed, and hovers the blanket over you. “Sweet dreams, dear Child of Man,” He caresses your cheek, warmer and more tinted in color.

He was about to pull away, until you reach out to his hand, you whine: “Don’t let go.. Squeeze me a little tighter, please?..” Your eyes tired with eye bags under them. You weren’t commanding anymore, you were pleading. He tightens his grip on your hand. Your muscles relaxing once again as your eyes closing in the warmth of Malleus’ hand.

Your exhausted expression is what’s keeping Malleus in place now. Never in his life he felt this confused before. His heart racing and beating, his body aren’t helping either. He sweats, pupils expanding from slits and his hands tremble. Just what is this feeling?

[barbie0303]

My thoughts on Dexter per season now that I just finished it:

Season 1

By far the best season out of all of them and the best antagonist (yes, even Trinity)

Love how Dexter is introduced, probably one of the best character introductions I’ve ever seen

The flashbacks sequences are sooo good. The haunting feeling they give, even the happier ones like Laura playing hide and seek with Dex and Brian. 10/10

The foreshadowing for Brian’s reveal in Father Knows Best was brilliant: Dexter thinking no normal person wakes up at that hour while Rudy is there, the focus on Rudy when Dexter says nothing connects him to the house, Rudy’s insistence that Joe was Dexter’s real father.

That scene in the Hotel room was probably one of the top three scenes of the entire show, the way they portray Dexter´s panic as his memories are returning. 10/10

I´m torn because I like both versions of where Brian confronts Dex with Deb (the container vs. the house).

While I understand the narrative choice of having Dexter kill Brian to protect Deb, it felt rushed. Brian was such a compelling character, and his potential was wasted (even more since the later seasons use him in a weird way. They don’t let him haunt the narrative for more than 2 episodes and sometimes he´s outright avoided). They should have waited a bit more if they really wanted that ending, it felt extremely rushed to suddenly have Brian come right back to Dex´s apartment and Dex to go well now you die in the last 10 min of the episode.

Season 2

Love the concept of Season 2 because Dexter is the one being hunted and technically being the villain if we compare it to other shows or even this one

I actually liked Lila at the beginning of the season and she actually gave Dexter pretty sound advice pre-dating

I like how the moment Rita suspects that Dexter might not be a good influence for her kids, she keeps Dexter out of her life. She’s grateful for his support, and that may be why she is giving him a chance. But she won’t let slide anything that might hurt her or her kids. Love her character

Wish the addict storyline wasn´t ditched

Hated that Dex and Lila had sex… this man has intimacy issues c’mon. I don’t mind the cheating storyline but it could’ve been better if they kept it to emotional, because those can be just as devastating

Doakes and Dexter’ interactions is so fun, love their bickering

Kinda wish that Dexter kept researching his bio fam. Literally, Joe was just mentioned one episode and was never brought up again and we barely know anything about him and Laura beyond the incident

HATED that they introduced the concept, that Dexter was sabotaging cases before the show began (undermines his code)

I liked Gabriel as Deb’s love interest and I’m not gonna lie and say that her falling for Lundy didn’t raise my eyebrows, but I understand it from a character’s perspective. She didn’t realize she was dating the serial killer she was chasing, why not hook up with the guy that identifies them for a living

Both scenes where Dexter confronts Santos Jimenez, man. You can feel how Dexter´s anger and grief over what happened and how unused he is to feel like that

The scenes with Doakes in the cabin were incredible. Michael C. Hall’s portrayal of a sinister Dexter is chilling. Shame he was toned down after this season. (a bit understandable for S3-4, but c´mon)

Season 3

This season should have been the one with the FBI hunt and Season 2 should’ve been the one with Miguel Prado/the skinner (minus Rita being pregnant and getting married, that stays in S3)

I haven’t read all the books, but I prefer Astor and Cody as resilient kids who inspire Dexter over having them being serial killers on training wheels (also I love how this is an example of how signing off a kid as fucked up instead of believing in them can make the difference. I mean it’s Astor/Cody vs Brian/Dexter)

I was frustrated a bit when Rita asked if Dexter knew anything about his family and he says no, she takes it at face value. Like girl, you helped to pack his bio dad’s stuff when he died and told you his mom was murdered months ago (ngl, kinda wish he confided in Rita about who Rudy actually was and the shipping yard massacre.)

I like Dexter and Miguel’s relationship, but it got better and more interesting once they started fighting and going with their power plays

Rita and Syl have such a good relationship, I was surprised how much the writers decided to develop it. Wish Syl appeared more in S4.

This season has the only good Angel romance story (his eventual relationship with LaGuerta isn’t bad, but I really liked more Gianna)

The way I gasped when Dexter told Deb about Harry cheating on Doris with a CI (even if I found odd that she never asks for Dexter´s help with her research or to get more info from him)

I felt robbed when the “Dexter getting kidnapped” scene was a fake out. Wanted to see Dexter vs another serial killer, but now he´s the one caught. The one from the next episode was cool, but a bit rushed, especially how Dexter gets his chance to escape because the skinner had to go to the other side of the factory for his tools, lol

I loved that scene with Ramon in ep.12 and funnily enough Dex opened up more to him in that scene than he ever did to Miguel (emotionally at least), wish he was kept around for a little while after that

I like the scene where Dexter forgives Harry and decides he wants to be a good father for his son. It was such a heartfelt moment

Season 4

I think that this season is carried overall by John Lithgow’s performance as Trinity. The rest of it is a bit overrated.

Wanted to see more of Dexter juggling being a father of three and a serial killer and not him stalking Trinity

Felt sad when Lundy was killed. Didn’t like that Deb cheated and broke up with Anton to rekindle with him, but he was a great character.

I think they revealed who Trinity was too early (or took too much time to kill him), because the last 3 episodes felt that they were dragging and that the writers had already decided that Rita dead was the last shot.

Dexter feeling only embarrassment for killing an innocent was funny but so odd considering the previous season

The Thanksgiving episode was so good, Dexter being ready to murder Trinity in his kitchen 10/10

The storyline where Deb finds out who Brian really was is so disappointing, like the scene with Dex and Deb in 4x12 is good but the research process... talk about underwhelming. That she learns it just because a newspaper happened to name both kids in Laura’s obituary was weird and kind of a plot hole considering that we know Dexter in S1 researched everything related to the Shipping Yard massacre and that most of the files were destroyed. I think it would’ve been better if she learned Laura had two kids and had to keep digging to learn the second kid’s name, have Matthews reveal it to her or bring it up to Dexter and notice how cagey he gets, idk.

Killing Rita was a mistake. If they wanted to shake up the status quo, they should have had her suspect Dexter’s secret or discover he’s a killer.

Season 5

This season is so underrated

I do understand why a lot of people rank it lower, tho. Because, Dexter and Lumen’s storyline is the only strong one, the PI side plot was boring as hell and Deb relating to the barren girls because of Rudy was good but ehhh… considering that the show goes back and forth on making Brian relevant and ignoring his existence, it’s just there

I don’t mind that Astor and Cody taking some time off the series, but it sucks that they were practically written out of the story after that

Listen I love Dexter and Lumen’s relationship, but I’m glad she got to move on with her life.

I think this is the only season that gives the villain(s) the proper amount of screen time where he acts like it with full knowledge from the characters and the audience. They weren´t rushed and they didn´t overstay their welcome

Season 6

This season is mid

Love Dexter and Harrison’s relationship, he’s such a good dad. The amount of warmth and tenderness he shows towards him is the highlight of the season

Brother Sam was a good character and I hated they killed him off, but he´s a bit repetitive in some parts, especially since this was right after the Lumen arc

Brian should have been used more as a manifestation of the Dark Passenger, easily the best episode of the season

Dexter trying to do the same thing as he did with Trinity of doing everything to find the bad guy first sucked and wasn´t even that engaging.

The painting was hilarious, I can´t even be mad, lol

Deb´s therapist sucks at her job, lmao. She´s like: "Oh you´re in love with your brother in a romantic way." And the only evidence she has of it is Deb hugging Dexter after someone attacked the police station with poisonous gas, that she dated Brian and that Deb told her the only constant she has had after all the horrible stuff that happened to her is her brother (yes, they are weird about each other, but the therapist hasn´t seen or heard that)

Season 7

The first five episodes are sooo good, the rest is pretty bad. Only some scenes managed to pick up a little

That flashback with Harry and Dexter… ouch

Love seeing Dexter trying to escape death traps, I was cheering watching how he was going around that fucked up labyrinth

Isaak Sirko was a better character and antagonist than Hannah, he deserved more on-screen time

Hannah McKay was Dexter’s worst love interest, at first I liked how she interacted with Dexter but after they had him (in an OoC manner) alter his report to "make her trust him" it took a nosedive. Which is a shame since I like the actress when I watched S1-2 from Chuck, she was good in that

Don´t know how to feel about Matthews knowing almost all along about Dexter, I think it would have been better of he suspected something when Brian came around and figured it out after the BHB thing happened

Dexter using the Moser lastname when he confronted Estrada. Oof

Love how Dexter tricked LaGuerta with the shirt, but hate that this basically put a count down on her days in the show

Season 8

The concept of Vogel was one of the worst ideas the show ever had (Ik that in the book, Harry says he consulted "some people" before he decided to train Dexter. But he probably meant he researched sociopaths and talked to professionals in hypotheticals not that he strait up teamed with a psychiatrist to "create" Dexter)

The Brain Surgeon is the most boring villain of the show (yes, even Travis was more interesting) he was diet!Brian and that´s giving a complement

The show just feels tired and bland, don´t get me wrong that started around S6. But now, it looks exhausted of itself and even cheaper than previous seasons

Bringing Hannah back was forced and unnecessary. Dexter taking her back after everything, especially after she poisoned him and Deb, felt completely OoC, let alone leaving Harrison to be raised by her

Kinda zoned most of the season if I´m honest

Dexter not killing Saxon was stupid, this guy never learns

The ending sucks, as everyone says. Why a lumberjack?

New Blood

This show was not good… to say the least

DeXter doesn´t come off as out of practice, he´s stupid

Switching Harry for Deb as the main hallucination was the only good idea

Harrison´s trust in Kurt felt so shallow, it was pointless drama

Harrison remembering Trinity is ridiculous (especially since there were two seasons that address how that´s not possible. With Dexter it made sense because he was three, Harrison was 10 months old), he´s probably more traumatized from being raised by Hannah and ending up in foster care.

Dexter used M-99 not ketamine, what were the writers on? This one made me angry because most of Angela´s case is based on that

Angela figuring out Dex is the BHB because she googled it… so frustrating

“Open your eyes and look”, such a cringe scene. HATE IT

[lemedstudent2021]

paris and helen harmonies save me

save me paris and helen harmonies. guys im going to cry their voices are so beautiful and on top of that work so well together and i ough

[morganmnemonic]

Having just come out of season 4, with people repeatedly saying "don't wait too long" and variations thereof to both generate a general atmosphere of creeping dread and highlight the parallel between martin's arc and basira's in which they both work with the enemy for the sake of their favorite person for just long enough to doom the world, I have to wonder what the hell they meant with this

like. what are you trying to say here?

[s0dium]

Warning: Gojo has really bad breeding/pregnancy kink

You have an inkling that Gojo Satoru is trying to get you pregnant.

You weren't sure at first, but the subtle clues began to add up. The way he insisted on being close to you during your most fertile days, his knowing smiles whenever you mentioned the future, and the way he would tenderly ask about your health and if you were taking any medications. And then of course, the fucking.

He is absolutely relentless. He reels his hips back just enough so his fat tip barely leaves your warm cunny, the anticipation building as you brace yourself. In an instant, he slams them forward, hard and fast right into your cervix. It's like he is trying to bring you and himself to the edge as fast as possible. And what you don't know is that he is, and after that, he will start all over again.

At the start he is able to keep his composure. But as he thrusts deeper, Jesus, when he feels, like, really fucking feels how warm and tight your pussy is, he starts to crumble like sand. Seeing you beneath him, your eyes glassy with tears from the intensity, your lower lip trembling as soft moans escape you, stirs something primal within him. It makes his body kick into auto-pilot as his head fills with thoughts only on filling you.

"F-feel so good baby," Gojo will groan into your ear as he rolls his hips into you. "S-shit I cant-" he gasps when you squeeze his length, your pussy squeezing him in a vice grip. That's when the babbling starts.

His mind is too hazy with euphoria to actually realize what he is saying but once he starts he can't stop; "Gonna cum in you baby, gonna cum in you and make you a mommy yeah?" He groans and throws his head back, sweat dripping now his neck, Adams's apple bobbing and mouth open as he pants for air.

"Come on answer me baby" He's not a whining man but here he is stumbling over his words like a school boy because of how good he feels right now. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how you wanna be a mommy, how you wanna have my babies"

You know you should say no. You really do, but you just cant stop yourslef. "I do, I do I do" you babble, the words strung out on your lips from how good he is fucking you. Each of his thrusts sends electric shocks through your veins, the delicious friction of his cock setting your nerves alight. He fills you completely, stretching you to a blissful fullness that borders on too much, yet exactly what you crave. The way he moves within you, deep and relentless, drives you to the edge of sanity. His intensity, the raw power behind each movement, makes you feel cherished and claimed all at once. The euphoria builds, each stroke stoking the fire within you, each moment of fullness punctuated by a hunger for more. The collision of his dick against your cervix has you seeing colors. His motions are fluid due to how wet you are and his pelvis rubs against your sensitive clit so so so perfectly, driving you closer near the edge.

He moans at your words. God you were so perfect, you were going to be the perfect mother he can practically see it now; your cute belly bump, your tits round and plump with milk. He thinks that you would have to pry him off your nipple because god once he gets a test of you he won't be able to stop. Everything feels so good, he is practically seeing colors, oh god he is close he is so close-

"Fuck!" Gojo's hip stutter and his grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. As the warm, sticky liquid fills your cunt, a surge of intense pleasure washes over you. The sensation is both overwhelming and deeply satisfying, and enough to bring you over the edge. Your pussy spasms from the pleasure and a white ring of cum forms around his dick from how tight the fit is.The warmth spreads, a comforting yet exhilarating feeling that envelopes your senses, leaving you awash in a blissful glow.

Maybe a baby with Gojo wouldn't be so bad.

[whokilledsamara]

Hello! I don’t usually make requests but i have one could u pretty please if u have time? 🥺

Anyways the request would be like homocipher boys (especially my bbg Mr Crawling) pussy drunk. Pls.

PUSSY DRUNK

a very short fic for a few of the Homicipher boys. {Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood}. Homicipher x afab!reader.

warnings! : each are different so a bit of violence, neediness, switch!reader, smut, porn, PORN NO PLOT!!! almost all of them are cunnilingus

{an: if you meant a fic with all of them in a gangbang sense, you can send in another request}

MR. CRAWLING

"Not now Mr. Crawling, im busy." you say softly, gently petting his head as he tugs at your skirt. "Please..", he practically begs, his lips turned into a pout.

he was always so desperate to please you, stopping at nothing as long as it made you happy. his eager face made it so hard to resist, and with a sigh, you gently part your legs before continuing to use your hands with what you were doing.

almost as soon as you do so, his face is shoved as far as it can go, a whine leaving his lips as he has to pull away to remove your underwear. a giggle escapes you while you watch.

...

"mngh.. fuck, please.." the words slipped so effortlessly from your lips, Mr. Crawling's head so deep between those legs of yours that you couldnt think straight.

your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging often. whines left him almost constantly, his hands holding up your thighs on his shoulders and off the chair. "Me want, More" he states softly, his voice muffled as he stares up at you, the lower half of his face still stuffed between your thighs.

as you nod softly, he hums and shoves two of his long and slender fingers inside of you, effortlessly curling them upwards towards your g-spot. "a-ah..!" your voice hits a high peak at the sudden intrusion, legs trembling as yet another orgasm rips through you, despite how many you had previously.

as overstimulated as you were, the man between your legs gives a few more licks to your clit, slowly pulling away. as he sits up, Mr. Crawling stares up at you with a cheeky grin, his chin covered in your juices. "Good." ..... "Big, Good."

MR. SCARLETELLA

as usual, he was feeling needy.

every since you pretty much marked him as your "slave", he has been near you at all times, getting upset whenever you interact with others instead of him.

this time in particular though, you watched tears fall from his eyes as he stared up at you with a desperate expression. despite the cold look on your face, and the amount of times you rejected him, he still pleads. "Please." he whines, his hands trembling against your thighs. "Please what..? not this again." you ask, glaring down at him. his hands grab at your raincoat, face a pleading mess.

"Need, You." he begs. you think for a second, a long exasperated sigh leaving your lips before you finally do what he always dreamed of. you roll your eyes, head tilting to a nod. that was all the conformation he needed.

...

hours had gone by, your unfortunate yet aching cunt so desperately clenched around his tongue, his hands clawing at your thighs.

his skilled tongue circled your clit an uncanny amount of times, his pace never slowing. "A-ah wait.. wait i cant.. fuccckk.." another orgasm ripped through you and then, only then, did his pace falter. "You, Like?" he asked, pulling his face up from your legs with an uncanny glare.

you nod many times, his smile only growing wider. his lips lean in and press against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as much as you denied your feelings for the man, you couldn't think of anything but how good he felt and tasted. with a thoughtful groan, you wiggle your finger at him, signaling for him to stand. immediately he obeys, face flushed and juices dripping down his chin. your eyes are locked on his for a second before you speak in a demanding tone.

"Take off your pants."

MR. SILVAIR

he was NEVER needy. so why was today different?

one of the other residents had managed to piss him off so much that he couldn't think straight. his usually calm demeanor shifted completely dark, not even a hint of his usual smile on his face.

even Mr. Chopped seemed worried, asking softly if he was okay. Mr. Silvair ignored him, his gaze fixated on your eyes. he nods his head to his "research room", silently instructing you to go. he follows closely behind you, the heavy door slamming shut and locking you both in the room.

...

a huff leaves his lips as his hands angrily lift you up and slam you on his examination table, ass up for him, with little to no way for you to escape.

"W-what are you doing? Whats wrong?.. Mr. Silvair-!" you ask hurriedly, hands scrambling to find something to grab. he ignores your pleas and hikes up your raincoat, forcing off your panties with one quick motion. you couldn't see him as you tried to look behind you, but you felt him sink to his knees. "H-hey- ah..!-" your words are cut off with a moan as his long, snakelike tongue slips between your folds.

Mr. Silvair's strong hands keep you spread with ease, giving him full access as he greedily eats your pussy like its the last meal on earth. "Stop Squirming." his usually calm voice turns dark, his fingers digging a touch deeper into your hips as he keeps you held up for him.

as hard as you can, you attempt to keep your hips still. his tongue reaches as deep as it can reach, making you harshly bite your lip and see stars, juices running down his face as you finally orgasm. "A-ah right there--fuck! please.." your begs go unnoticed as he releases you and stands, walking out of the room without another glance. seemingly, this little outburst would hold him down for a while.

be glad it was only his tongue this time.

MR. GAP

a while after you got used to your residency at the complex, you learned your lesson about walking near the gaps.

the man who always seemed to appear at the worst moments, would mainly only mess with you. usually, it would only be a small poke as your ankle as you walked by, a tug at your hair when you had your back turned, or small scares he would pull off.

eventually you learned to ignore it, or altogether stay away from the walls, but unfortunately for you, today was a day you slipped up. as careless as it seemed, you were walking on your own, tiredness taking over your expression. the day was hectic, having to deal with more than one entity at a time.

a sudden yelp escapes your throat as you are yanked by your arm into a small opening in the wall. your back ends up pressed against the nearest wall, Mr. Gap's face level with yours with that sick, uncanny expression he always has.

you huff and use your hand to push at his face, the ever so sassy man rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist. "You're No, Fun." he grumbles, hands fumbling with your shorts. "The fuck are you doing?" you mutter as a hushed yell, eyes glaring at his.

the grin on his face grows wider as he shoves off your pants, before suddenly dissolving into nothing. your eyes dart around, confusion evident in your expression until a sudden whine leaves your lips at an unknown feeling hits your core.

looking down, you find Mr. Gap nose deep in between your legs, eyes locked on yours as he smirks into you. your hand shoots down to grab his hair, attempting to pull him away as embarrassment fills your expression. though unluckily for you, or luckily depending on how you take it,, he doesn't move. instead, he groans into your hand, his hands tighten on your thighs as he pushes his face deeper, licking and sucking anything he can manage.

after many failed orgasms, and many tears from his constant edging, finally after everything he lets you cum, sucking hard enough on your clit to have a loud moan escape you, thighs clenching around his head.

though something tells you he isnt done.

MR. HOOD

as mono tuned as the man was, and as little as expressive as he was, he couldn't help his built up tension.

while no, he didn't understand the concept of love, or at-least he wouldn't admit it- he knew and felt the need for touch.

he often would allow you inside of his coat, usually just chilling in there or whatever you called it- but you never saw it as anything more than companionship. or so he figured. the moment he felt you experiment by placing your hand just above his crotch, his views changed.

with little to no effort, Mr. Hood plucked you out of his coat, setting you gently on the nearest table. he stared at you for a second, chest heavy. he could definitely sense your confusion- but as he kept his gaze on you, he reached out to grab your leg, his oddly feeling hand sat calmly on the inside of your thigh. "May, Touch?" Mr. Hood asked, an almost worried tone in his words. quicker than he could get his words out, you were nodding.

his body stilled for a second, almost as if he was debating his life choices, but ultimately decided to continue. gentle fingers reach under your raincoat, tugging down your panties with ease. and while he would never admit it, he quite greatly enjoyed the small sounds you made when his fingers traced your lips.

he hesitates for a second, before pushing a single ghostly finger inside. it was oddly cold, but felt so good inside of you as he worked his way in. a long moan leaves you, your hands reaching out to grab his arms.

one of his tentacles shoots out, replacing his finger that instead opted for your clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles. "Oh fuck.." you breathe out, legs trembling at your embarrassingly close orgasm. "I-im gonna c- mmngh!!" a hushed scream leave you as the tentacle curls, thrusting hard at your G-spot. it sends you over the edge, your juices flowing down your thighs and around the appendage. with a sigh, he pulls out, seemingly pleased.

"Turn Around."

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[3liza]

after meaning to get around to it for years i finally listened to almost the entirety of Sold a Story and it is as groundbreaking as everyone says it is. it's also the most confusing, to me, single event in American culture in my lifetime and my reasons for thinking that are pretty complex so im not sure theyre fully formed yet. there's a list of shit in this podcast that made me feel like i was going insane

i KNEW something was going on at a population level, i've been noticing it for years, people kept telling me i was imagining things, but i was RIGHT, two generations of kids have been reduced to barely-literate levels of language function because of this shit and you CAN see it and hear it while talking to people in the world!

the entire adoption of the Calkins programs in the first place were based on the majority of people responsible for American child education deciding basically overnight that "children don't need to learn phonics in order to become strong readers" which is literally and not figuratively equivalent to saying "children can learn algebra without learning what numbers are". it is so self-evidently false i dont even know how to respond to such an assertion. you have to be fundamentally devoid of common sense to think this is true. language is comprised of sounds (phonemes), sounds are represented by letters, letters make up the alphabet, the alphabet makes up words, and words make up sentences. you cant just skip over the parts of this you dont like, it's the basis of our entire civilization. "i dont need to learn individual notes i just want to play to saxophone" okay well. too bad? you cant

american primary education apparently has no communication whatsoever with the scientific fields of human behaviorism, pediatrics, neurology, linguistics, the science of learning generally, and there is next to zero communication between teachers who are actively responsible for educating children and the entire research field of educating children. they just dont talk to each other, at least in huge swaths of the country. in retrospect this is obvious, i just have been assuming incorrectly this entire time that maybe, surely, some aspect of how our public schools are administered is in some way being guided by scientific evidence and research. this has apparently not been the case for 20+ years. Lucy Calkins herself claims she "didn't know" that the research on how children acquire language had been essentially settled by the 1990s, she just wrote her stupid book based on her own self-assurance that what she THOUGHT children were doing when they learned language was correct. she ddin't check, she didnt ask about research or studies, she didn't test her hypothesis, she just told everyone she had figured out how to teach kids to read based on nothing but her own untested assumptions. and everyone was like "okay sounds good". every single person involved in this process is or was in a position of responsibility for educating american children. and almost none of them thought to ask "okay, but have you tested it? does it work?" because they didn't test it, and it doesnt work, and for some reason that was never even brought up

teachers kept being interviewed on this podcast who kept saying things like: "they never taught us how to teach children to read" and "they didn't teach us how children learn so i had no idea how it worked" and then explaining this was why they were so easily hoodwinked by the Calkins program. i don't understand this. what is actually taught during the two year degree programs at teaching colleges? if it's not child psychology, pedagogy, neurology, and actual techniques for teaching children, what are they teaching you to do there? one of my friends who went to a teaching college told me they mostly provided classes on lesson planning.

individual teachers apparently are not reading books or articles or papers on any of these subjects either. so having graduated from a teaching college knowing nothing about children, teaching, or even basic english literacy ("i didn't know how to teach phonics and no one told me" is another thing actual teachers kept saying on the podcast. girl, SESAME STREET can teach basic english phonics, and it does), almost none of them actually do any investigation on their own. they just show up to their workplace (the school) and "teach" whatever admin hands them. ?????????????? how is this possible?

i realized last night in a fugue of post-exertional malaise that the three-cueing method of teaching reading is training children to approach language very similarly to how a large language model does it. they laboriously instruct the children to guess what the next word in a sentence will be, often by actually covering the word with a post-it note and then cajoling and badgering the child until he guesses the word under the post-it, based on the vibes on the sentence he's reading. this doesnt teach you to read, it teaches you to act like youre reading

this isnt directly addressed in the podcast but we used to just teach everyone english like it was an actual system that has parts and rules and structures, because that's what a language is. everyone would start with phonics and the alphabet, then later do stuff like sentence diagramming and grammar, neither of which have been taught in primary schools in decades. i think i was probably the very last generation of kids to get ANY of that stuff unless they went to an exceptional school, and it was only because my 8th grade teacher knew it was important and went against school admin's instructions in order to teach it. the couple days of sentence diagramming and grammar he gave us, out of SPITE, have been more useful to me in reading and writing than the entire rest of primary english education i received in public school, and i didn't even go to a school that had adopted three-cueing stuff yet.

[grimmsbride]

﹡ ֗ ۪ please, baby please

LOVE FOR YOU 𝜗𝜚ྀི GRIMMS BRIDE

₊　 ✉️ | DATE NIGHT, pretty dresses and an even prettier you. Mark cant help but end the night with a little dessert..

﹡ | tags ◞　 ₊　 pre-established relationship | excessive use of pet names & dirty talk | reader is a bit of a tease | oral sex (f. receiving) | reader is chubby coded | mark lifts you | he likes you in heels.. | he’s a little pathetic | begging & yearning mark | ooc mark probably.. | he’s on his knees for you… literally | etc

﹡ | author’s note ◞　 ₊　 love writing mark like a slut, cause that’s what he is /j.. i also may do a drafts reveal but i hope you enjoy this little blurb!

Very little brought Invincible to surrender, on his knees begging for mercy or any sort of reprise for that matter. Except you. Beautiful, perfect you.

Tonight was date night, the day clear, Cecil ignoring you two— the whole nine yards. For once Mark made an effort; booking a table at the most beautiful restaurant, requesting you to wear a nice dress. Never one to disappoint, you dressed in a strapless bodycon gown, the blue highlighting your skin so beautifully— pairing the fabric with white heels.

The night was wonderful, coupled withlooks full of adoration and gentle hand grabs across the table. Mark made a promise to bring you here once again, even if it meant getting on Cecil’s bad side— a thought that caused you to giggle in the moment. Far too quickly it ended, the two of you heading home, ready to call it a night with some cuddling.

Only, that wasn’t on Mark’s mind at all. You were, every part of you. He asked you to dress pretty but he didn’t expect for you to look like this. He couldn’t count on a single hand how many times he restrained himself at the table— growing far too jealous of that spoon you kept wrapping your lips around.

So with the two of you being home, you asking so sweetly to help with your shoes; Mark saw his opportunity. He started at your shoes, gently undoing the straps and buckles, chuckling a little at your complaining.. only for his hands to rise, drifting up your thighs, pushing fabric to find more skin.

Soon enough his fingers were finding the thin strap of your thong, curling a digit around to push the underwear to the side. With zero restraint and way too much enthusiasm, the man dug his knees fully into the bedroom floor, pushing forward to press his lips against your center.

Gentle kisses, ones to hear you gasp as the feeling slowly enveloped your body. His hands smoothed up and down your legs, murmuring soft words right into your wetting sex, a mix of babbled i love yous and praises.

His tongue glided from his mouth, tickling your folds before parting them to find the bud nestled between. Darting the thick muscle up and down, round and round; fingers gripping at your plush flesh the moment you twitched. You stepped back, finding the wall for to lean against— Mark wasting no time in following you. Knees sliding across the floor, groans being muttered right into your pussy; his obsession, his yearning for you as clear as day— not a sense of shame in his body.

“Mark..” You whispered softly, hand falling to collect his hair, the wispy tresses passing through the gaps of your fingers. You trembled, eyelids falling over as his gentle yet expert tongue ran you completely wild. Of course Mark Grayson would use such an opportunity for his own selfish — was it really his? — gain. You wanted to mock him, state in full detail how much of a little pervert he was. But that would have to wait. For later, not when he had you wrapped around his little finger.

A swear dropped from your lips, gripping his hair tightly, eyebrows furrowing the moment the man drew even closer. His desperation was clear, feeling his fingers claw at your plush body, the muffled moans vibrating you each time they crawled from his throat. You couldn’t help the way you trembled as that familiar feeling drew closer, how your pussy clenched, and little button throbbed as the pleasure dragged on.

That simple thought had you moving, tugging the man away from you in one swift motion. Mark tried to fight it, attempting to push closer but you were so resilient and the man wasn’t one to stop you anyway.

Your eyes fell over his features, devouring the sight before you. His hair a mess, face slick with you and saliva, cheeks a flushed red, tie partially undone— you could come off this image alone, burning it deep into your memory.

“Why’d y—“

“I thought I… taught you patience.” You struggled to get the words out, fingers falling to press against his forehead the moment you noticed his eyes switch back between your legs. You couldn’t help but shiver at the little annoyed expression he wore, or how those once gentle hands were clenching just a bit more. “Couldn’t even let me fully undress, huh?”

“Not with how you looked the entire evening.” Mark spoke without missing a beat, glossed lips curling into the littlest simper. Coaxing hands soon treaded up and down your legs, looking up at you far too lovingly. “C’mon baby, don’t stop me.. I wanna taste you.”

“Was that not enough?”

Mark began to grumble, bordering on whining. His knees ached, his neck wasn’t at the best angle but there was no way in hell he was stopping now. Not a chance. “Fuck.. baby, please— let me finish, please..” He’s begging, lips pushing into the cutest little pout that has you keening internally. You felt that playful resistance waning the moment his lips peppered your heated skin, mumbling more soft sentences;

Please baby, please.

Need it so bad, you don’t know how much I struggled at dinner.

I know you want it just as much, [Name].. fuck.

Mark was saying all the right words, hitting every little spot in your mind. You slowly lifted your hand away from him, gasping the moment you felt Mark practically rush back to his previous position; lips wrapping around your pretty clit, sucking and licking it raw.

You whimpered softly, hips moving as the pleasure trailed back up your spine. You felt your body starting up again, shaking and shivering, clenching his hair so tightly you worried you would tear a few pieces out. Your free hand twitched against the cool wall behind you, pressing against it to hold yourself up.

The man wasn’t lying when he said he needed it, needed you; shown in his relentless actions. His tongue sliding across your sticky folds once in a while, poking at your withering hole, only to travel right back to your button to suck and lap at. His moans were even worse then before, wet declarations of pure enjoyment; unable to help himself entirely.

Soon enough you were building up again, your arousal trickling down your thighs, surely making a mess of your previously discarded panties and his pretty face. With a sudden rather powerful suck your knees were buckling, a moan thrumming through your throat quickly.

Mark wasted no time, hands sliding underneath your legs to lift you up easily, rising to his own as if you weighed nothing. His lips never stopped its rhythm, maybe even intensifying as his excitement shined through. His fingers caressed, pressing you up against the wall so you wouldn’t even think of escaping.

As his name fell from your lips the man couldn’t help but groan back, eyes flickering open to land onto your face. Your eyebrows were creased, lips quivering, and hands holding onto him for dear life. He couldn’t help the downright pussy drunk chuckle that vibrated right into you, his hold tightening.

“So fucking perfect… how’d I get so lucky..?” Mark mumbled to himself, a sweet little mantra that had stars invading your already blurry vision. Your stomach clenched, kneeling forward as your body shook against the wall, only able to cling to the man, letting him do what wanted completely.

All too quickly you were coming undone, arching as your legs wrapped around his neck tightly, Mark pressing against your thighs as if wanting you to squeeze him more. Moments of gentle licks passed, the man sucking up every drop of your arousal as if it was the sweetest nectar one could drink. His thumbs glided across your skin, soothing your withering body, helping you down your high slowly.

When fully satisfied Mark pulled away, gently sliding you down the wall to guide your legs around his waist. His arms snaked around your own, pushing close to stamp a wet kiss against your neck.

“When will you wear this dress again?” The man murmured into your skin, smiling a bit at the little giggle that escaped you. He shivered as your hands dragged up his arms, gliding to his hair to simply rake against his scalp.

“I don’t know.. will you let me actually take it off to wash?”

[fictionalmenmistress]

I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, so I wanted to share that Logan's rant monologue insulting Wade in the Honda Odyssey, before Wade decides to beat him up and they ~fight~ all night... that so clearly to me, was Logan projecting. It started as a tempered rant to cope with how annoyed and pent up he was, with the heat of everything and with Wade's muchness that makes him, him, but the longer he went on, the more he started ranting and exposing himself in the process.

"THE XMEN REJECTED YOU, AND THEY'LL TAKE FUCKING ANYONE!!!" That was my first hit, that he was referring to himself. He sees himself so lowly, so failed, that's canonical to the film. And canonically, he didn't even quite originally feel worthy or want to be with the XMEN. Didn't feel like there was a place for him there, a place for him anywhere. One of his biggest healings was Professor X not giving up on helping him believe that he deserved to be there, was wanted, was worthy, was a good guy. That's canon to his character. So we know he was speaking about himself. He was chewing Wade out, but he was also talking and focusing moreso on what upset him about himself. (He sees himself as just any jo shmo, when he IS literally THE X MAN ㅠㅠ)

He was seeing himself in Wade, how he "can't even save a relationship with a gd stripper", (he sees himself as not able to save anything either, and he's angry for that more than anything else he's angry or annoyed at) projecting SO HARD as he pieced together saying it out loud, that Wade was exactly like him. Logan hated himself for not saving anything. For being a "loser", a "failure", for all of the same reasons he was lashing out at Wade for. He was so angry and annoyed by Wade reminding him of himself, because he related to him. Wade was his reflection, in his eyes, calling him out so loudly with his own behaviors. And he hated himself. He deeply was suffering with that hatred for himself, and as a result, he lashed out on Wade when really he was chewing out himself, inside, admitting it.

"God's CRUELEST JOKE, IS THAT YOU *WONT* DIE ALONE. BECAUSE YOU! CANT! DIE! SO THE REST OF US HAVE TO SUFFER YOU THE REST OF OUR EXISTENCE!" (something along that.)

He didn't know for sure that Wade can't die. He picked up on that Wade can't be killed. Logan is the one who can't die. They are two flipped sides of the same immortal power coin. When he finished his screaming at him, and everyone was silent at how cruel and shocking the confrontation and his words were, I was sinking with a very empathetically whispered "oh, Logan..." Because I felt his misery. I immediately picked up on him really talking about himself, and I think that was genius and layered. I was upset for how awful that was to say to Wade, heartbroken for Wade taking that to heart, and I was heartbroken that Logan was saying that because he believes that about himself. Because they are, oddly, a lot alike. Very compatible.

This scene here:

I read that Hugh said that Ryan wrote that. He's brilliant with these films. It was so genius. I really needed to share this and bring this thought, meta, analysis to light. For all of us to have.

Is Logan mad at God's "cruel joke" of his immortality, yet ability to feel so much pain through it still? Yes. He punched the roof in rage, because it's not fair. Venting his own pain. He sees his powers, his own and Wade's too, empathetically, as their curse. The curse of being the one who lives, and the guilt with that. The one who can't die. The one who lives, who is forced to live, while everyone who "deserves to live" dies. And WILL die, around them.

"And You can't die. That's on all of US!" Logan says, clearly referring to himself living forever... And "us" being the people HE loved. He saw himself as a burden for existing with them, for them. He deflected that onto Wade, as if the people in Wade's life must feel that way too, but didn't really mean that. He meant it about himself. Logan believes he was a burden on the people he loves, the people he lost. That's probably why he left too, and didn't come back when they called out for him to. He distanced himself to protect them, and protect himself from that fear of rejection that he feels is so imminent, and them not having him, is the one element that led to none of them surviving without him. He was always the key. He was always wanted, and he was always important and needed. He just couldn't ever believe that.

Man, that's why it became so personal for Logan too, when he was shown Wade's photograph of his family. Because HE had a family, and he would do anything now to save them. Just like Wade. He held that photograph all night, he went and got it when it fell out of the car, he kept looking at it. It became personal for him, when he identified with it. That Honda scene really was their turning point of everything. That's when Logan cared with everything. He got it. Wade is the him he couldn't be. But now he can.

I dropped some heat with this one.

Extra little personal context/thought notes: Maybe I just spotted it because I have a natural knack for psychology, I'm hyperobservant, highly empathetic and deeply feeling, and I'm also years experienced of my parents and whole family treating me the same exact toxic lashout way almost every other day. That's a workweek for me to see through toxic lashout anger BS. These are not my gifs!!! They were created by another amazing account. I will refind their @ and tag them!! >>> It's @landoslastnerve ! Thank you friend! 🤍

Also wanted to include someone's tags from those gifs:

.

[ghostfacd]

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

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user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER 🥹🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

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user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

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tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

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tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever

[miupow]

★ ── LE SEXE, JE VEUX DIRE !

what happens when you give the hyung line an aphrodisiac 。 。 。?

꒰୨୧ ꒱ pairing。stray kids hyung line x fem!reader genre。 pure smut , pwp warnings。 aphrodisiacs , sex while intoxicated , breeding kink , primal play , vaginal fingering , oral (m. rec) , deepthroat , unprotected sex , creampies , masturbation (m. rec) , phone sex , diy porn , sex while filming

a/n ⸝⸝ requested skz version of my txt drabble! i’m lowkey not a big fan of this… but here it is anyway lol. [ 0. 7k words ] ⸝⸝ [ m. list ]

𝔅ANGCHAN

chris is completely sure the aphrodisiac candies you purchased wouldn't do a thing, just a silly marketing gimmick printed all over the foil packaging he turned over in his hands. but you had gotten them as a surprise, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings– so he casts aside his doubts and eats his share with a smile, ready to put on his best show of pretending to be affected. he wouldn't even be really acting, since you can get him going no matter what... yet to his complete shock reduced to a mess within minutes, panting and squirming above you, his hips canting up to press the swell of his clothed cock against the curve of your ass. his control slips when you grind back against him, pussy drunk and unable to think of anything other than fuck, claim, breed as he flips you over and mounts you like an animal. he’s definitely having you get more of these.

𝔐INHO

minho’s immediate response to you showing him the chocolates was to scold you for wasting money on worthless placebos. there was no way you believed that they would actually do anything, right? but he eats them with you anyway, because you’re very persuasive when you’re pouting. he’ll tell you they did nothing for him at all, as he’s knuckle deep in your pussy, your hot little mouth swallowing his cock to the hilt. he didn’t feel a thing, as he’s lining up his weeping tip to your entrance. he’s completely unaffected, watching with dark hazy eyes as his thick cum leaks out of your hole. those stupid chocolates had nothing to do with how he fucked you until the sun came up. and you let him believe it, because it gives you an excuse to try it again.

𝓒HANGBIN

changbin always finds some way to derail your plans… you had hidden some aphrodisiac chocolates your had bought in hopes of surprising him with them later, but you were never the best at hiding things— your boyfriend finds them within the first day. mistaking them for regular candy, he eats them without a thought; and hours later he calls you desperately from the studio, hiding in the bathroom with his pants around his knees as he fists his aching cock. the lewd wet sounds echo against the tile and harmonize with his pretty low moans, all filtering directly into the phone’s speaker and making your pussy throb. “i need you so bad,” he whimpers, his hand speeding up, “need your pussy so bad…” detailing in a needy groan every nasty little thing he planned to do to you once he got home, the growl in his voice enough to make your legs shake. you hated to ruin the mood, but you just had to know; “binnie, did you eat those chocolates in the pantry?” “um… maybe?”

𝓗YUNJIN

the candies were his idea, actually— he figured they were a perfect addition to the films he liked to make. you couldn’t even call them sex tapes, with how careful and artistic hyunjin was in filming them… but he loved to film often, and was always coming up with new ways to keep things new and exciting. sharing candies between kisses on camera, hands wandering as you lay tangled together on the hotel bed. the both of you growing hotter and needier as time went on, gentle caresses turning into rough manhandling, tugging at each other’s clothes til you were both bare in eachother’s arms. hyunjin looks straight into the camera with a smirk as he flips you over onto your hands and knees, your face buried in the pillow to muffle your scream when he slides his thick long cock into your wet pussy with one firm thrust. he reaches over to pick the camera up off of it’s tripod, angles it down so it gets a clear view of your asscheeks bouncing against his abs from the force of his thrusts, his big hand pressing down on your arched back as his cock splits your creamy cunt open. neither of you last as long as usual, deeply affected by the aphrodisiac and desperate for release— he makes sure to get the best possible angle of him pulling out and cumming on your ass, pearly white ropes of cum decorating your flushed skin like a painting. you’re his favorite work of art, and he just can’t get enough of showing it off.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

pairing: aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of murder and death of a child, surprisingly i thinks there isn't any cursing or smut, maybe next time ;) just good old sad aegon

a/n: this is my first time ever writing for HoTD or GoT for that matter. please be kind to me. i tried to use appropriate wording for the time period. i'm somewhat successful but i have work ahead of me to become a pro.

i felt so enraged when alicent walked out on her grieving son to go fuck around with cole. what the fuck is your problem? i always gave her the benefit of the doubt but this episode just proves what a terrible mother she is. i figured the only person fit to comfort my baby boy aegon is someone raised by rhaenyras gentle heart.

lowkey want to make a throuple out of reader, aegon, and helaena. readers gonna be a little psychologist lol. she'd hold their hands and force them to kumbaya haha but obviously they'd be like this cant work without you. maybe they'll follow aegon the conqueror and have her as a second wife but idk would anyone be interested in that? i'm rambling. enjoy!

Helaena’s Turn

STAY WITH US

The cold stone of the Red Keep kept you company as you strode through its halls. The breeze of the night offered you comfort and aided your mind to forget the terrible events that have plagued the Keep.

And yet, despite your energies being depleted, you can't seem to find rest. Loss weighs you down and spirals you into a depth of overbearing thoughts, making sleep a mere idea.

The Red Keep, the place you once called home, has become your prison. For weeks, you were not allowed out of your chambers, and for a short time afterward, a guard followed you wherever you went.

It has all changed, though. The death of the King's son has diverted all of the guard's forces to find the culprit. The priority is to search for the monster that gruesomely and cruelly decapitated a child while he slept rather than to watch over a harmless Princess who is simply not on their side.

As a result, you're now free to roam the castle, granted there are eyes all around. You wouldn't be able to step foot outside the castle if you tried, and any suspicious activity would immediately be reported to the Hand of the King.

For an unknown reason, your feet guide you to the King's chambers, where indiscernible, muffled sounds come from. You look around and find that the guard meant to protect the King is absent. It's worrisome. You stand in the middle of the stone hallway, your hands clasped, as you make a decision.

While your loyalty lies with the Blacks, you cannot stand and watch more of your family be killed, including the Usurper. Daemon has always been 'kind' in mentioning that your gentle heart will cause your death. You'd argue it's an honorable way to go.

You slip through the ajar door quietly, getting closer to the sound. There is destruction across the room. The Old Valyria model your grandfather worked on for most of his life is scattered on the floor, beyond salvation. Goblets and spilled wine, thrown in a fit of rage, decorate the walls.

It is only when a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath echo around the room that you recognize the sounds you heard outside. They are cries.

You release a breath of relief. No one is in danger, although it does not signify someone is not hurting. You peak further into the room and debate on your next course of action. If the mess inside the chambers and the lack of guards mean anything, it's that the King would like to be alone.

But you know Aegon. You grew up with him. He's not one to reach out for help until it's too late. You make a haste decision. Aegon will not grieve alone tonight.

You know what that's like. Your brother, Lucerys, was murdered not too long ago, and you had no choice but to mourn alone. The Hand of the King locked you in your chambers, afraid your temper would lead you to do something drastic. It's the most horrid thing you've ever endured.

How you wished for Rhaenyra, or anyone for that matter, to hold you while you cried. A maid would've sufficed, but no one was allowed entry into your chambers.

Aegon sits by the fireplace, his head hung low, as he cries for his dead son. It might not have looked like it, but Aegon deeply cared for the boy. He wished to be better than his father ever was, and he was succeeding.

Until two days ago.

You've witnessed firsthand the blanket of sorrow that has covered the Red Keep, spent many hours by Haelena's side, offering her your shoulder, and never realized the King would need the same.

Why is Aegon alone? He should not have to go through this by himself. You expected he would have surrounded himself with his men and countless bottles of wine or sought refuge in Helaena's arms since they shared the same grief.

A heartbreaking cry snaps you out of your thoughts—his whole body trembles from loss. Aegon gasps for air to aid his burning lungs, yet he can't control the tears that track down his cheeks and the raking breaths that course through his body and limit his breathing.

He does not know what to make of himself. His fingers shake as he fumbles with the ring on his finger—the one with the dragon crest. Aegon doesn't know what to make of himself. He's never endured this sort of loss.

His sobs are the ones of a man who lost a part of himself. Jaehaerys, his legacy, has gone too soon. Aegon spent time with the boy the morning before his death, doting on him like Viserys never did to him.

He's so lost in his grief that Aegon doesn't hear when you stumble upon a piece of cast from the model. Being careful with your steps, you reach Aegon's side and place a hand on his shoulder.

Alarmed, he turns to face the person who disturbs him, only to find you—you who have been keeping the Hightower siblings together despite belonging to the other side.

"Leave me be," he sniffs, staring back into the fire. He wonders if that's how his son's pyre looked earlier that day.

You kneel on the floor, settling between his legs to cup his cheeks in your palms. Wide, glossy lilac eyes stare back as they fill with more tears.

As his tears fall, you wipe them away. It's enough to make Aegon crumble in your arms, releasing louder cries and questions that will forever remain unanswered.

It's so easy to let go when you know someone is there to catch you.

Aegon fists your dress like a child would to its mother. You rub his back soothingly, holding him as tightly as you're able. You press a kiss to the side of his head, whispering calming words.

Aegon never wanted to be king, yet the moment he tries to fulfill his duty the moment he tries to be a proper king, he is rewarded by his son being brutally taken from him.

It's not a fair world. The Gods have never been kind to him, and he's afraid he'll only ever live a life of torment.

Now, more than ever, he doesn't want to be King. It is a mere reminder of how heavy the crown truly is. It's a shackle meant to keep him in place while others act upon his name while he pays for the consequences.

"Jaehaerys was a bright soul. I am sorry this has happened. You should've never had to experience this pain," you whisper in his ear. No parent should experience the death of their child. It is a sad reality the Targaryens have experienced all too well.

Aegon nods in agreement, and only when he's calm enough to speak does he tear himself away from your embrace. He instantly misses your warmth and the smell of roses in your hair.

"Why are you comforting me when you should be celebrating my demise?" His waterline is stained red, just like the tip of his nose, and he's never looked more innocent than in that moment.

You tilt your head sadly, that same emotion reflected in your eyes. "I do not celebrate the loss of innocents, especially one that has gone too soon. I also do not particularly like the notion of someone I hold dear grieving alone."

"You did," he sniffs. He remembers hearing your cries that night; the whole Red Keep could. You cried and screamed the entire night until you fell asleep from exhaustion and starvation.

Otto prohibited them from coming to you. Haelena tried, but he dismissed the idea with the false notion that you'd hurt her in your grief. Otto confuses you with your parentage. Unlike them, you're kind and gentle and wouldn't dare hurt anyone.

"Which is how I know I would never wish it upon my worst enemy." You brush your fingers through his blonde hair, tucking the messy strands behind his ears.

"Is that what I am to you? An enemy?" He asks, disgruntled.

"No," you answer immediately, your hands coming down to rest upon his chest. His breathing has calmed since you first saw him. "At least, not yet."

His lilac eyes bore into hers in search of the truth; shyly, you hold onto his gaze with nothing to hide except your intentions to help. Sighing, he closes his eyes and bumps his forehead against yours. Aegon will take what he can get. There's seemingly no one else to help him deal with his emotions.

"Stay," he pleads, holding onto the hand that's placed on his chest. This is the most at peace he's felt in a while. He wishes to savor it for a moment longer.

"For as long as you need, my King," you reply, closing your eyes.

"Aegon," he says. He refuses to be reminded of what lies outside his bed chambers. For just a moment, he wishes to simply be Aegon.

"Aegon," you respond, correcting yourself. He squeezes your hand appreciatively, tucking your head on his neck.

He keeps you in his arms until late hours in the night, recounting memories he shared with Jaehaerys. The pain is real and raw, and he won't be well for a long time, but for this night, Aegon will seek solace in your embrace, where he knows he won't be judged or be seen as a burden.

In your arms, he's not Aegon' the Magnanimous.' He's not seen as careless or reckless or the lesser child of Alicent Hightower.

He's Aegon.

helaena’s part has been posted! HELAENA’S TURN

Final part! STAY WITH US

that’s it! it’s sweet and short. i just wanted to have someone comfort aegon like he deserves. during that scene i wished i could jump into t he screen and hug him. it’s all so tragic.

i wish i could do the same with haelena. my girl needs to be coddled. fuck alicent. fuck otto. most importantly fuck criston cole.

if you enjoyed this one shot please don’t forget to like or comment and if you want more of it feel free to let me know! i don’t bite (unless you want me to)!

[fairyofshampgyu]

Super shy !

genre: smut, baker au, college au, crack

Pairing: shy loser virgin bakery worker ! soobin x college customer ! reader

Warnings: sub soobin, dom reader, clubbing, alcohol, loss of virginity, riding, hand job, titty groping (can’t be a Soobin smut without him being obsessed with boobies be fr), premature ejaculation,

word count: 2.9k

As soon as you stepped into the newly established campus bakery, walking up to the counter and observing all the pastries, contemplating for a rather long time before you end up deciding on what you’d usually order anyway, Soobin couldn’t help feeling like his world got totally turned upside down. The sight of you rendering him completely speechless and unable to even think.

Time seemingly going by so slow like in the kdramas as your shiny hair majestically blows in the non existent wind inside, smile brightening up the entire bakery. He could practically see the roses blooming around your face like in the mangas. Was this love at first sight?!

Realistically, no.

But were you incredibly attractive to him and a breath of fresh air to the moody, stressed out college students that purchase a single coffee and stay for hours completing assignments with their backs concerningly hunched over? Hell yes.

And unfortunately for Soobin, he does not do well with pretty people. At all. Not realising you had even ordered, too in awe and preoccupied with taking in all your features until he’s snapped back to reality with the clearing of your throat and he can already feel his cheeks burning up horribly fast. Oh god. He really, really hopes it’s not evident right now.

“S-sorry…What did you say?” He begins apologising profusely to you, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes, staring off more to the side. This was definitely not his best customer service.

With a chuckle, you brush it off and state your order again, “I said could I have the strawberry swirl cheesecake please?” If Soobin could look at himself in third person, he would so be face palming right now. Or better yet, maybe he could just go up and like, punch himself straight up or something for acting like such a loser.

“Ah right... That’s ₩7500. Cash or card?”

You pay with cash and Soobin, very nervously, fumbles around to garner the right amount of change to hand you, though doing it in the most awkward way possible and his palm makes direct contact with yours as he hands the money, making him blush even more and let out a small obvious gasp at the feeling of your soft hand. Oh my god. Why did he do that?! He really hopes you didn’t find that weird.

You only let out another chuckle, thanking him before you’re leaving the bakery in an elegant manner and Soobin is left to sigh and watch your back disappear. Damn it. He’ll probably never see you again. You were so pretty and so cute, too cute even-

“You’re such a virgin.”

His thoughts about you are abruptly dissipated by his coworker and unfortunately best friend, Choi Beomgyu who gives him the stupidest, most annoying grin he would definitely like to slap off his face right now.

“Just shut up.” Soobin grimaces and rolls his eyes at beomgyu, bringing a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind him and placing them into the display glass one by one.

"You’re pinker than the strawberry macarons we sell. That's saying something." Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at him with sass.

So does that mean you could see how flustered he was getting then? Oh no! Soobin clears his throat and narrows his eyes at beomgyu anyway. “Am not.”

“Are too! Anyway, all I’m saying is that interaction was painful to watch. You’re really giving pathetic, loser, virgin right now. I cant lie.” Beomgyu attempts to stifle in one of his obnoxious laughs.

Soobin is quick to snap back, "You've only ever slept with one person!"

"S-so!! At least im not a virgin!" Beomgyu’s cheeks also become the equivalent to the strawberry macarons as he scrambles to try and defend himself, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed.

“Well, the concept of a virgin is purely societal anyway. It doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t mean anything really.” Soobin bitterly replies, continuing to work whilst his counterpart does completely nothing like most of the time. It's usually soobin that does work, remind him not to agree to beomyu's silly ideas of getting a job together ever again.

Beomgyu scoffs and snickers at this, "Whatever. You’re just saying all that to make yourself feel better because you’re a loser. LMAO"

"I’ll punch you right now."

"Then we'll both be fired~”

A poor customer still awaits at the counter to be served, standing in bewilderment and tiredness. Waiting for the two bakers to finish bickering and sighing as they don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

Soobin doesn’t expect to see you again, in complete honesty, he’s almost forgotten you even exist after you never come again. But he’s in luck and more than pleasantly surprised when he hears the bell to the door go ding!, indicating a customer had walked in. He looks up from the cake he was decorating and in comes you looking cuter than the first time he saw you. He tries not to mess up the cake and he stands up straight almost instantly when he sees you, waiting for you to order and trying to remain calm.

You laugh and point at his cute nose when you come up to the counter. “You have like, icing all on your nose.”

“O-oh. I do?” He points at himself and you nod in reply. He feels himself going redder by the minute. He must look so stupid right now! And he urgently brings his sleeve up and tries to wipe the icing off his nose to not make himself look an even more of a complete fool in front of you .

“Ah wait no. Let me do it!” You lean over the counter as you see him struggling and wipe it off the top of his cute bunny like nose instead for him.

And that was the end of soobin. The end.

-

You become a regular at the bakery and soobin becomes a regular of embarrassing the absolute shit out of himself each time he sees you. He really doesn’t think he can top the previous comedic disaster that occurs when you enter, yet he always proves himself wrong, the awkwardness reaching new heights each time. From dropping trays of pastries, spilling drinks, nearly slipping in front of you, giving you a ₩50000 note when it was only ₩5000 change, the list goes on and on. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t lost his job yet.

And there’s also always a disappointed beomgyu shaking his head afterwards ready to make fun of him when Soobin promises to make a move but freezes every time you’re in sight, too much of a pussy.

“I’m calling an intervention.” Beomgyu declares and sighs after the nth time of soobin making absolutely no moves on you whatsoever, “Soobin, my man, my bro, you desperately need to get banged. It’s painful seeing the way you act. Your little crush is not gonna like you with the way you act. That’s it. We’re going clubbing tonight after this shift. No buts.”

“But-”

“I said no buts!”

“You know I hate clubbing.”

“You’ve never even been with me despite my constant pleads.” Beomgyu shakes his head and makes a dramatic pained face at his way.

“So? I know I’ll hate it.”

“You’re such a hater bro.”

“Yes I am. And I take pride in it. I’m a hater of everything.”

Beomgyu just sighs. He was utterly hopeless.

Unfortunately, there was no way Soobin could get out of this because beomgyu was having absolutely none of his protests and excuses and that’s how he ends up finding himself at the club anyway after his shift, sitting off to the side as he watches beomgyu disappear somewhere into the crowd. Soobin sighs as he downs his jack and coke. This was going to be a long fucking night.

-

In the dimly lit club, soobin’s discomfort was palpable, like a fish out of water and you noticed instantly upon arrival. It’s that cute tall baker boy who always serves you! You excitedly make your way and sit next to him, he looked a little lonely. “Hey! You work at that bakery on campus. I go there!”

Soobin’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets at the sight of you sitting next to him and he nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters on his straw and nods. Act calm, act calm, act calm, act calm. Act cool and mysterious.

It’s you! You’re speaking to him?!

“So…these things not really your scene, huh?”

“Gee. How did you ever notice?” Soobin attempts to smile and joke with dry humour but it executes a little more awkward and nervous than how he would have liked.

You also try to carry on the conversation since this is the first time you’ve got to ever actually talk to the cute boy before. “I’m very intuitive. I can just sense things like that.”

He laughs at that too, feeling a bit more comfortable around you now. “No but yeah, I’d much rather be at home right now sleeping. Can’t say I’m much of an advocate for getting stupidly drunk with sweaty people you don’t even know with terrible rave music and flashing lights that should have an epilepsy warning”

“I get it.” You chuckle at how passionate he gets talking about how much he hates clubbing, frown on his cute face. “So why are you here then?”

“Friend wanted me to. Said I needed to finally get laid or whatever.” Soobin rolls his eyes and sips on his drink again, motioning his head to the direction of beomgyu on the dance floor, clearly drunk off his ass now.

“Oh, you’re a Virgin?”

Soobin’s ears go red when he realises what he said to you. “O-oh um y-yeah I guess…”

“Are you waiting for like marriage or the right person or something?” You question, genuinely surprised. He was tall and very attractive and it was rare for college boys to not hook up every single night these days.

“God no. Just never happened. I don’t really care for things like that. It’s probably overhyped anyway and doesn’t even feel that good. Like porn is highly unrealistic anyway.”

“You think so?” You chuckle at him and he nods, continuing to cutely sip on his drink with his straw. “Well maybe you should to try it out first and see for yourself.” Your words start to become a little flirty as you grow more confident talking with him and also because of the alcohol making you slightly tipsy now. “Sorry, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes please.” Soobin’s eyes widen even more at your suggestion and he’s more than happy to get out of here with you especially.

“Umm your friend is a bit….out of it right now.” You watch beomgyu drunk from afar, whipping his long hair back and forth claiming to everyone around he’ll be able to do it fast enough to lift off his feet and fly like a helicopter.

“He’ll be…he’ll be fine I’m sure”

Soobin has no idea what good stuff he must have done in his past life to get to this moment right now, in your room, making out with you, in your bed. Did he mention making out? With you?! The customer he’s been crushing on for months?! Holy, he might hyperventilate right now. It all feels like a dream. Is this real right now?

You cup his cheek and move into his lap, continuing to move your lips against his and soobin’s ears and face are all flushed, breathing loud of enough for you to hear and he looks all nervous and a little shaky.

You stop kissing him but he chases after your lips still and you stroke his cheek, “Are you okay Soobin?”

He’s only able to nod, lips parted and eyes all glazed over. He’s so out of it just from making out with you it’s crazy. But so cute too.

“C-can you…can we…just want…”

“What do you want, baby?” You chuckle and stroke his cheek as he manages to utter some words. The petname only makes his head go even more haywire.

“W-want you…”

“What do you want me to do?” You giggle and coo at him.

He shyly shows you the boner he’s had this entire time. You can’t believe he got a boner just from some kissing. “Can you-will you touch me…please? Need it…” He pleads at you nervously, so red in the face.

“Are you sure?”

He nods his head exceptionally fast and you begin to unbuckle his jeans as he watches you take his flushed and hard dick out, breathing only becoming heavier. Damn, you didn’t think he’d be that big.

You take him into your hands and his mouth his already agape, gasping when you slowly start to stroke him.

You pump his big cock at a steady pace so as not to overwhelm him too much, though twisting and thumbing at the tip occasionally that has him drooling at the corner of his mouth and beads of precum dribbling out heavily from his cock. It’s endearing how far gone he is just at you stroking his dick slow, shy whimpers and other noises eliciting from his mouth.

You unbutton you shirt with your other hand as you continue to pump him and his eyes go crazed at the sight of your tits, you guiding his own big inexperienced hands to grope at them and he does, slumping his head into your neck and shoulder moaning into it and still groping and squeezing at your tits.

With a sudden yelp you feel Soobin’s cum spurt up and leak into your hands, his eyes rolling back as he whimpers continuously from his premature orgasm.

He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder yet, too embarrassed to face you but he eventually does, eyes still half lidded, trying to catch his breath and he’s hard again. “W-will you fuck me? Please please please. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you, please?” He practically begs, still panting out.

“Are you really sure, Soobin? With me?”

“Yes please! Only want you.”

You study his face for any hesitancy but it’s clear he’s so set on wanting you to fuck him. So you wrap your hands around both his wrists and bring him to lay down on your pillows instead, you still straddling his lap.

When you’ve undressed your lower half, you bring his dick and slide it over your entrance a few times, he moans out loud, hands coming up shyly to cover his face and then you sink down incredibly slowly on his massive length . Soobin’s jaw drops and breath hitches at the feeling of his dick finally in your warm pussy, a strangled moan ripping out of him. He could seriously cum just from being in you right now, but he tries so hard not to or you’ll be disappointed and he doesn’t want to see you disappointed or embarrass himself even more.

“You good, baby?”

“M’ f-fine. Just-Just need a minute.” Soobin shakes out.

You take his hands away from his face and lean down to softly kiss him instead, trying to calm him down and he effuses into your mouth, kissing back passionately with his eyes closed.

“I’m ready now…” He pulls away after a while and looks you in the eyes.

So you start to slowly move, riding him, going up and down on his virgin dick. Soobin’s mouth hangs open in endless moans and gasps and whimpers, face buried into your pillow to the side and his hair all messy now. Whole body flushed and shaking underneath you.

“Better than you thought, baby?” You grunt out, bouncing on top of his cock.

“So much better. O-oh my god, f-fuck…ah!” So maybe sex wasn’t overhyped after all. Because goddamn, you feel so fucking good. Maybe it was just you. But Soobin truly feels like he’s gliding on fluffy clouds right now. All the times he’s touched himself not even coming close to how he feels right now stuffed in your pussy as you fuck him, watching mesmerised as your tits bounce with each movement. He could die here right now in full contentment. Oh how he was so wrong.

It’s not long at all before Soobin can’t hold it anymore. His hips bucking up and breath hitching as a loud strangled mewl tumbles out of his mouth and you feel hot cum fill you up suddenly that makes you still your movements on him. He lets out a long slurred groan and then goes limp beneath you, eyes closing shut and open as he fades from conscious to not every now and then. Is he really that fucked out?

After a while, he finally somewhat recovers and comes back to you from his high, still panting out and chest rising up and down. He looks up at you with a small shy smile on his lips, arm thrown over his forehead.

“You know I literally only go to the bakery because of how cute and silly you are and how you always make a mess of yourself whenever I walk in” You chuckle and admit, drawing shapes into his chest.

“W-wait you knew I liked you?” Soobin asks, shocked and feeling embarrassed again.

You laugh, “Come on, you made it rather obvious.”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: having serious writers block rn but forced myself to write this in practically one sitting (it was so painful) and has not been proof read at all so if it makes no sense I apologise 😭

[ceeaann]

Arcane Highschool!AU

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 7.1k words, cliche highschool tropes, gn!reader, just pure fluff also a little reverse comfort

A/N this was so fun to do, cant believe i finished this in 1 day ahahahahhaah. this is my longest work yet so hopefully you guys enjoy it <3

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

You’ve spent most of your high school life flying under the radar as the band’s flute player—quiet, responsible, and perfectly content in your niche. Your days revolve around early-morning rehearsals, sheet music, and the steady rhythm of practice. It’s predictable, comfortable.

That is, until the school’s star athlete, Vi, always in whispers and cheers, bursts into your life like an unrelenting storm.

Shes everything you’re not—loud, brash, impulsive, and dangerously confident. The type who winks at the crowd after scoring the winning goal, whose swagger fills the halls, and who’s constantly making headlines for their fiery outbursts on and off the field. You’ve heard the stories: the scuffle at last week’s game, the heated argument with the coach, the rumors of detention slips piling up.

You’d barely exchanged more than a few words with her, but that changes when the school decides to host a collaborative pep rally—complete with a showstopping performance featuring both the sports teams and the band.

When the coach volunteers them to help promote school spirit by playing a surprise number with the band, you’re horrified. So is she.

“I don’t have time for this,” she scoff when she gets dragged to the band room. “Why don’t you all just play louder or something?”

Your teacher assigns you the unenviable task of teaching them how to play an instrument. You can practically hear your friends giggling behind your back as you pull them aside, thrusting a trumpet into their hands.

Vi groans, slouching in her chair like a bored kid in detention. “What’s the point of this? Everyone’s here to watch me win, not play this stupid thing.”

You bristle at their cocky tone. “Well, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school, I suggest you try.”

VI then gives you a smirk, leaning in just a little too close. “Oh, you think I can’t do it? I’m good at everything.”

It turns out, she's not.

The first few lessons are a disaster. She blow into the trumpet like she's trying to blow out a candle from across the room, their fingers fumble over the valves, and she keep snapping, “This thing is broken!” every time it makes a screeching noise.

But underneath all the bravado and eye-rolls, you start to notice something. The way she glares at the trumpet when she messes up isn’t just frustration—it’s determination. she hates failing, and she hates it even more that they’re bad at this.

“I’m not giving up,” Vi declares after her third failed attempt to hit a note. “I’m not letting some dumb piece of metal beat me.”

The more you work together, the more cracks appear in their tough exterior. she's fiercely competitive, yes, but also surprisingly quick to laugh at themselves when the trumpet sputters out the wrong notes. Her cocky grin softens when you praise even her smallest improvement, and she starts showing up to practice earlier than you do.

One afternoon, as you’re packing up your sheet music, you catch them staring at the band photo on the wall. “You guys practice this much all the time?” Vi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

she nod slowly, her usual swagger replaced by something contemplative. “Never thought about it like that. I guess… it’s kind of like training, huh?”

That’s when you realize she's not as invincible as she seem. Behind the hot-headed confidence is someone who works just as hard as you do, who’s just as passionate about what they love—even if they show it in a completely different way.

And when the pep rally finally arrives, with the gym packed to the rafters, she surprise's everyone—not just with how she learned to play, but with how she step aside during the performance to let the band take the spotlight.

Afterward, as the crowd cheers, she give you a lopsided grin. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’m pretty good at this whole teamwork thing.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile.

The pep rally is over, and the gym is buzzing with energy as people file out, still cheering and talking about the unexpected performance. You’re gathering your things in the corner of the stage when you hear footsteps behind you.

“Hey,” she calls out, her voice softer than you’re used to.

You turn to find her standing there, holding her trumpet in one hand, the other rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. For once, her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression that’s… almost nervous.

“Uh, so… you were pretty great out there,” she says, her eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “I mean, you’re always great, but, like, today—you really killed it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks. You were pretty great too. You didn’t even mess up the solo.”

She laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes your chest flutter. “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher. Guess I owe you for that.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But you did the work. I’m impressed, actually. Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

She steps a little closer, her usual confidence creeping back into her voice. “Yeah? So, I impressed you?”

Your face heats up, and you roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she teases, but her grin softens as her gaze lingers on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The noise of the gym fades into the background, and all you can hear is the faint hum of your own heartbeat.

She looks down at the trumpet in her hand, turning it over like she’s stalling. “You know… I used to think band stuff was just… background noise. Like, nobody really notices it. But being up there, seeing how much you guys put into it…”

Her voice trails off, and when she looks back at you, there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “It made me notice you more.”

Your breath catches. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “You’re not just some quiet band geek who hangs out in the background. You’re… amazing. And I’ve been an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words get stuck in your throat. She’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world, and for the first time, you don’t feel small or invisible. You feel seen.

“I know I’ve been kind of… impossible,” she continues, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t want to screw this up. So if I asked you to, I don’t know, grab milkshakes or something sometime… what would you say?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d say… as long as you don’t try to play the trumpet during the date, I might say yes.”

Her laugh is loud and bright, and before you know it, she’s grinning down at you. “Deal.”

The gym lights flicker as the janitor starts cleaning up, and you realize you’ve been standing there for what feels like forever. But as she walks you out, her shoulder brushing against yours, you can’t help but think that maybe this impulsive, hot-headed star athlete isn’t so bad after all.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

You and Caitlyn were inseparable once, two halves of the same whole. Summers were spent running through sun-drenched fields, plotting grand adventures, and swearing eternal friendship under the stars. But that was years ago, before her family moved away to chase bigger opportunities, and you were left behind with only memories of her bright laugh and unshakable confidence.

Life moved on, and so did you. By high school, she’d become little more than a bittersweet memory. Until now.

When she walks into your homeroom on the first day of senior year, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. She’s taller now, with an effortless grace that makes the room go quiet. Her uniform looks somehow sharper on her, her long, dark hair falling in perfect waves. There’s something in the way she carries herself—poised and self-assured, like she owns the world—and maybe she does.

Her family name has become a symbol of power and wealth. She’s been in the headlines, her achievements as a youth advocate already earning her a reputation as a fierce voice for justice. And yet, when her gaze scans the room and lands on you, her face lights up with the same brilliant smile you remember from childhood.

“Hey,” she says as she slides into the empty seat beside you, her voice low and familiar. “Long time no see.”

You’re too stunned to do anything but nod.

You quickly learn that she’s not just here for nostalgia—she’s here with a purpose. Between rigorous AP classes, she’s working on a project to bring awareness to systemic issues in your town. Meetings, interviews, and late nights at the library seem to be her norm, and it doesn’t take long for her to rope you into helping.

At first, it feels surreal being around her again. The girl you once knew has grown into someone so driven, so ambitious, that it’s almost intimidating. She seems untouchable, like a shooting star too far away to reach.

But every now and then, the cracks in her polished armor show. When it’s just the two of you poring over notes at your kitchen table, she leans back with a sigh and pulls her hair into a ponytail, muttering about how she wishes she had more time to breathe. And when you laugh at her frustrations, she throws a crumpled piece of paper at you, her grin wide and mischievous.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says one evening, her eyes soft as they meet yours. “Still the only person who can make me laugh when I want to scream.”

It’s during one of these late-night sessions that the air between you shifts. You’re sitting on the floor of her family’s impossibly grand living room, surrounded by papers and laptops. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for her, a far cry from the polished image she presents to the world, and you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks like this—unguarded and real.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head to look at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you lie, your heart racing under her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”

You hesitate, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It’s just… I can’t believe you’re here. That after all these years, we’re… us again.”

Her expression softens, and she shifts closer until your knees are almost touching. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s been so hard, being away from everything I used to care about. From you.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You want to say something—anything—but the way she’s looking at you steals the breath from your lungs. Her dark eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world seems to still.

“Do you ever think about those nights we spent under the stars?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, swallowing hard. “All the time.”

“I do too,” she admits, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet it sends a jolt through you. “Back then, I always thought we’d have forever. And when I left, I realized how much I hated being wrong about that.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between you disappears. Her hand lingers on yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin, and you’re acutely aware of how close her face is to yours.

“Tell me if this is okay,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just slightly.

You nod, barely able to speak. “It’s more than okay.”

And then her lips are on yours, soft and hesitant at first, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean into her, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, and the kiss deepens—sweet and full of years’ worth of unspoken feelings.

When you finally pull back, she rests her forehead against yours, a breathless smile on her lips. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she says, her voice tinged with relief.

“Me too,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

As the night stretches on, you realize that the girl you thought you’d lost has come back into your life, not as the same person she once was, but as someone even more extraordinary. And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain—it feels full of possibilities, with her by your side.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

You’ve worked hard to get where you are. Every meeting attended, every speech prepared, every carefully crafted decision—it’s all been for the sake of keeping order in the chaos of your high school. As class president, your name carries weight. You’re the dependable one, the one who keeps everything running smoothly, the one who always has things under control.

Until Jinx shows up.

The whispers start on her first day. The new girl. The one who doesn’t seem to care about blending in. She strides into the building like she owns it, her uniform already disheveled, her blazer slung over her shoulder, and a wild grin on her face.

It doesn’t take long for her reputation to spread. She’s unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly magnetic. Within a week, she’s already broken half the school’s rules, talked her way out of three detentions, and somehow charmed half your classmates in the process.

And for some reason, she’s decided you’re her favorite target.

It happens during lunch. You’re sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by student council members, going over plans for the upcoming fundraiser when she walks up to your table.

“Class president,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and something else you can’t quite place. “Mind if I join you?”

You glance up, already annoyed. “I’m busy.”

She smirks, pulling out a chair anyway. “That’s cute. You think I was asking.”

Your friends exchange uneasy glances, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans back in the chair, her sharp pink eyes locked on you, as if she’s trying to unravel you with her gaze alone.

“You’ve got a real stick-up-your-ass vibe,” she says casually, plucking an apple from the tray in front of her. “I like that. It makes messing with you way more fun.”

You glare at her, trying to keep your composure. “Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?”

Her grin widens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something wild and untamed in her expression. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

She becomes a constant in your life after that. You find her waiting outside your classroom, lounging against your locker, or casually walking into student council meetings as if she belongs there.

“Do you ever stop?” you snap one afternoon, cornering her in the hallway after she’s disrupted yet another meeting.

“Stop what?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.

“Whatever game you’re playing.”

She steps closer, and for the first time, you notice just how intense her gaze is. “Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just like you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric, and before you can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.

It’s not until much later that you start to see the cracks in her chaotic facade. One night, you find her sitting alone in the empty music room, the piano keys beneath her fingers. She’s not playing, just pressing random notes, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet stillness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping into the room.

She doesn’t look up. “Neither should you.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I bet you think I’m crazy.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “I think you’re reckless and impulsive and… exhausting. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She finally looks up at you, her eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“I’m not nice,” you counter. “I just… I think there’s more to you than the act you put on.”

Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile. “Careful, president. You keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

The more time you spend around her, the more you realize how deeply she feels everything. Her chaos isn’t just for show—it’s a shield, a way to keep people from getting too close. But with you, she starts to let her guard down.

One evening, she shows up outside your house, her hair messy and her eyes wild. “Come with me,” she says, grabbing your hand.

“Where are we going?” you ask, letting her drag you down the street.

“Anywhere,” she replies, her grip tight. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”

You end up at the park, sitting on a swingset as the stars blink overhead. She’s unusually quiet, her hands gripping the chains tightly as she stares at the ground.

“You ever feel like you’re spinning out of control?” she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.”

She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against yours. “You… you make it stop. Just for a little while.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t know if it’s the raw honesty in her words or the way her fingers linger against yours, but you feel something shift between you.

It happens later that night, as you’re walking her home. She stops in front of her house, turning to face you with an unreadable expression.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asks suddenly, her voice soft.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a mess,” she says, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I break things, I hurt people… I’m not like you. I’m not good.”

“You’re not perfect,” you admit, stepping closer. “But you’re not as bad as you think you are, either.”

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Maybe,” you say with a small smile. “But I don’t think so.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, your lips brushing against hers. She freezes for a moment, like she’s caught off guard, but then she kisses you back, her hands clutching at your sleeves as if you’re the only solid thing in her world.

When you finally pull back, her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. “You’re insane,” she mutters, though there’s no heat in her words.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, grinning.

She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, you feel like you’ve truly seen her—every broken, beautiful piece of her.

—Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t thrilled when your teacher assigned you as her tutor. You’d heard all the rumors: skipped classes, biting comebacks that left people reeling, and a permanent spot on the troublemaker watchlist.

Her reputation painted her as unteachable, untamable, and entirely uninterested in anything resembling authority. When your teacher insisted she “just needed guidance,” you couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

The first session confirmed it.

She slouched into the library ten minutes late, her bag dragging on the floor, and dropped into the chair across from you with a loud huff.

“Look,” she said before you could even greet her, “I don’t need some perfect little know-it-all telling me what to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just here to help.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her tone was cutting, her expression bored, and yet… there was something about her. A quiet intensity lurking beneath the surface, like she was daring you to break through her tough exterior.

Each session felt like a test of patience. She was sharp, no question about it, but her attitude made every interaction a battle.

“You’re not even trying,” you said one afternoon after she tossed her pen aside for the third time.

Her eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said coldly. “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t bust my ass every single day?”

You froze, startled by the edge in her voice.

She leaned forward, her gaze cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I’m here because they told me to be.”

For a moment, you considered walking away. But then you saw it—just the faintest flicker of something vulnerable beneath her defiance.

“You’re right,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “I don’t know you. But I know you’re capable of more than this.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers drumming on the table. “Whatever,” she muttered.

But she didn’t leave.

Slowly, things started to shift. She showed up on time—barely. She started taking notes—reluctantly. And every so often, she’d let her tough exterior slip, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the real her.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, you handed her a worksheet.

“You’re getting better,” you said, offering her a small smile.

She snorted. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying you’re improving.”

“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a thank-you card,” she replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Her walls were still up, but they were starting to crack.

It happened on a rare quiet day in the library. She was hunched over her notebook, her brow furrowed as she worked through a particularly tricky problem.

“Got it,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight.

“Really?” you asked, leaning over to check her work.

She shoved the notebook toward you, her smirk firmly in place. “Told you I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were dumb,” you replied, meeting her gaze. “You just make things harder than they need to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you’re just stubborn,” you teased.

Her smirk softened, just for a moment. “Takes one to know one, princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, her voice low and almost… fond.

After weeks of late afternoons spent together, you found yourself walking her home one evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets.

“You’re not as bad as I thought,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, surprised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

When you reached her house, she stopped at the gate, turning to face you. Her usual confidence wavered, just slightly.

“Why do you bother with me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

“Because I see how hard you work,” you said honestly. “And because I think there’s more to you than what you let people see.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as bold and unapologetic as she was.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her smirk was firmly in place.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, turning toward her door.

You smiled, your heart racing. “Too late."

—Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the sunlight made everything look softer, warmer, like it belonged in a painting. You’d escaped to the park during your lunch break, clutching a well-worn book in one hand and a coffee in the other. It wasn’t the first time you’d come here for a little peace and quiet, but it felt like one of the rare times you’d actually get it.

You settled on a bench near the fountain, a cozy corner of the park where the only sounds were the gentle trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The moment you opened your book, however, you felt it—a faint, almost electric sensation prickling at the edge of your awareness. Someone was watching you.

Glancing up, you spotted him.

He was sitting on the grass a few yards away, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil flying across the page. His hair fell messily across his forehead, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms speckled with faint smears of paint. Despite the chaos of his appearance, his focus was absolute, his gaze darting between you and the paper as if you were some rare discovery he couldn’t afford to lose.

You furrowed your brow, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Can I help you?” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, striding toward you. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

His voice was smooth, tinged with an earnestness that made it hard to stay annoyed.

“I’m an artist,” he explained, gesturing to his sketchpad. “I know this sounds weird, but you’ve got this… look. The way you’re sitting, the way the light hits you—it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“For a piece I’m working on,” he clarified, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Do you mind if I sketch you? Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, studying him. He didn’t look like a creep—just young, maybe a little unkempt, with an intensity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

“I’m not really dressed for a portrait,” you said, gesturing to your casual sweater and jeans.

He smiled, and the way his face softened surprised you. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s the way you carry yourself.”

The compliment was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “Alright,” you said slowly. “But just for a few minutes.”

“Great,” he said, dropping to the bench across from you with a grin that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds

It turned out he was a prodigy, a young artist with a growing reputation in the city. His work had been featured in galleries, and he’d even won a few prestigious awards. But for all his talent, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.

“I don’t really like the whole ‘genius’ label,” he admitted one afternoon after convincing you to pose for him again. “It just makes people think I’ve got everything figured out. But most of the time, I’m just trying to keep up with my own ideas.”

You quickly realized that his art wasn’t just a skill—it was his lifeline. He spoke about it the way others might talk about breathing. And for some reason, he’d decided that you were his muse.

“Why me?” you asked one day as he sketched you in his studio. The walls were covered with half-finished canvases, each one brimming with vivid colors and raw emotion.

He glanced up from his sketchbook, his eyes soft but focused. “You’ve got something about you,” he said simply. “A kind of… light. I can’t explain it, but when I see you, I want to create.”

His honesty was disarming. There was no pretense in his words, no calculated charm. He spoke as though his heart was an open book, and every word was written in your honor.

“Do you say that to all your muses?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve never had one before you.”

As time went on, you got to know him beyond his talent. He was fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone for his success. His compassion, however, was what surprised you most. He spent his weekends teaching art classes at a local youth center, his eyes lighting up as he helped kids discover their own creativity.

“They’ve got so much potential,” he said once, his voice filled with quiet pride. “They just need someone to believe in them.”

It was clear that he poured himself into everything he did, whether it was a painting, a lesson, or simply spending time with you.

One evening, he invited you to his studio after hours. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.

“I want to show you something,” he said, guiding you to the center of the room where a large canvas stood covered by a cloth.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking painting. It was you—your pose, your expression, every detail captured with such tenderness that it felt like staring into a mirror of your soul.

“Is that… me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not just you,” he said softly. “It’s how I see you. Strong, radiant… inspiring.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said finally, your voice thick with emotion.

“So are you,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile.

There was no grand confession, no dramatic moment where everything changed. Instead, your relationship grew in quiet, unspoken ways. The way he brought you coffee when you visited his studio. The way he asked for your opinion on his work, genuinely valuing your thoughts. The way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a sketchbook, his touch lingering just a second too long.

One day, as you sat together in the park where you’d first met, he turned to you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure I’d be able to do this without you.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Create,” he replied simply. “You make it… easier to believe in myself.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his honesty. “I think you’d do just fine on your own.”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I don’t want to.”

—Bestfriend!jayce

The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From elementary school to your final year of high school, your lives had been stitched together with countless shared moments—late-night study sessions, chaotic group projects, and lazy afternoons spent at the local diner. You were the grounded one, the planner, while he was the dreamer.

He was everything you admired in a person: ambitious, creative, and unrelentingly passionate about making the world a better place. Whether he was organizing a charity event for the school or advocating for a greener campus, he didn’t just talk about change—he embodied it.

“Alright, hear me out,” he said one afternoon as you sat in your favorite spot in the school library. His voice was alive with energy, his words spilling out faster than you could process them.

You glanced up from your notes, already bracing yourself. “This is going to be another one of your big ideas, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”

He leaned forward, spreading out a sketchbook filled with colorful doodles and bold handwriting. Each page was a mix of blueprints, campaign slogans, and notes for an initiative he wanted to pitch to the student council.

“I’m telling you, if we can pull this off, it could really make a difference. We could partner with local businesses, raise money for community programs, and even involve the younger students—”

“You’re going a hundred miles an hour again,” you interrupted gently, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Not when I’m onto something good,” he replied without missing a beat.

That was him in a nutshell: a whirlwind of ideas and determination, always moving forward. It was both inspiring and exhausting to keep up with him, but somehow, you always did.

For all his big ideas and boundless enthusiasm, he had a softer side too—a side he reserved just for you.

One Friday night, he showed up outside your house, honking his car horn until you came outside in your pajamas.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure your neighbors weren’t watching.

“Get in,” he said with a grin, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “I need your opinion on something.”

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but you climbed into the passenger seat anyway.

He drove to a quiet hill on the outskirts of town, parking near an old tree you’d both claimed as “your spot” years ago. He pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it to you.

“These are my ideas for the youth outreach program,” he said. “I need to know if I’m being too ambitious.”

You flipped through the pages, your heart warming as you saw the effort he’d poured into every word and sketch.

“This is incredible,” you said softly. “You’re not just ambitious—you’re inspiring. People are going to listen to you.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You really think so?”

“Always,” you said, your voice firm.

For a split second, you thought he might reach out to take your hand, but instead, he leaned back, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After particularly grueling school days, he’d find you at your locker, holding out your favorite drink or snack without a word. When the stress of finals hit, he’d sit beside you in the library, quietly working through his own assignments while offering words of encouragement.

And then there were the moments when his usual confidence wavered.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked one evening as you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the stars.

The two of you had just spent hours planning his latest project, a school-wide fundraiser for a local shelter. Despite his ambitious plans, his voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

“You? Crazy?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely.”

He laughed softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade.

“Seriously, though,” he said, turning to you. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m aiming too high. Like, what if I can’t actually pull all this off? What if I fail?”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You won’t fail. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. And even if something doesn’t work out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you’re brave enough to try again.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The moment lingered, and as he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability there that he usually kept hidden.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now,” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your breath caught. “What is it?”

“I don’t just care about you as a friend,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, I do, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been my anchor, the one person who gets me, who believes in me even when I doubt myself.”

Your heart raced, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. “I think I’ve always felt the same way,” you said quietly.

Relief washed over his face, followed by a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Then we’re in this together,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Like always.”

From that day on, your friendship transformed into something deeper, something stronger. His dreams grew bigger, but now, they weren’t just his—they were yours too. Together, you were unstoppable, a team bound by shared passion and a love that had been years in the making.

Whether it was planning for college or brainstorming ways to change the world, one thing was certain: with him by your side, anything felt possible.

—Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

From the moment the new kid transferred to your school, it was as if the universe had dropped a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. He was a contradiction: introverted yet razor-sharp in class discussions, quiet but with an undercurrent of passion that seemed to burst through in unexpected moments. His snarky comebacks and aloof demeanor were practically tailor-made to clash with your confident, no-nonsense approach to everything.

You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his distance from everyone else, often retreating to the farthest corner of the library or lab. Despite his unassuming presence, he somehow managed to infuriate you with his brilliance. Teachers fawned over him, classmates whispered about him, and you? You glared daggers at him every time he raised his hand in class to counter one of your arguments.

The first real confrontation happened in science class. It was a group project, and your teacher, in a cruel twist of fate, paired you with him.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

He barely glanced at you as he set down his notebook, already flipping through its pages. “It’s not my favorite pairing either, but let’s just get this done.”

His tone was clipped, and his eyes barely met yours.

“Oh, so we’re starting with passive-aggressive remarks? Good to know where we stand,” you shot back, folding your arms.

He sighed, finally looking at you. “Look, I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about getting an A on this project. If you want to argue, fine, but at least do it while we’re running the experiment.”

His bluntness took you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. But you quickly recovered, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you take over.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered under his breath, already scribbling in his notebook.

Working together was like a storm brewing in slow motion. You were both stubborn and headstrong, constantly butting heads over the smallest details.

“Why are you doing it that way?” you snapped one afternoon as he adjusted the settings on the experiment’s apparatus.

“Because it’s the correct way,” he replied without looking up.

“You didn’t even let me explain my idea!”

“Your idea would’ve blown up the circuit.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Let me guess—you’re the kind of person who thinks trial and error is the only way to learn?”

He finally turned to face you, a faint smirk playing at his lips “And you’re the kind of person who thinks you’re always right,”

The tension crackled like static electricity, but neither of you backed down.

It wasn’t until a late-night study session in the empty library that things started to shift. The project deadline was looming, and you’d reluctantly agreed to meet outside of school to finish your work.

He was unusually quiet that night, his usual snark absent as he stared intently at the data on his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Just tired. And frustrated. I want this to be perfect.”

Something in his tone softened your usual defensiveness. “You know, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”

He gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Not really. Not when people are counting on me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw past the walls he’d built around himself—the pressure he carried, the weight of expectations.

“I didn’t realize you were dealing with so much,” you said quietly.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Why would you? We’ve been too busy trying to outsmart each other.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fair point. Maybe we should call a truce—for now.”

He smiled, just barely, and it was the first time you’d seen him let his guard down.

As the project progressed, the two of you started to find common ground. You discovered his love for science wasn’t just about theories and equations—it was about helping people.

“Why are you so passionate about this?” you asked one day as he carefully calibrated a piece of equipment.

He hesitated, then said, “Because I want to make a difference. I has a chronic illness, and I’ve spent years struggling with treatments that barely work. I want to change that for me, and for anyone else going through the same thing.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You’d always thought of him as cold and detached, but now, you saw the fire that drove him.

“That’s… incredible,” you said softly.

He shrugged, his cheeks tinged with color. “It’s just what I care about. What about you? What drives you?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But as you opened up about your own dreams and ambitions, you realized something had shifted between you.

On the night before the project was due, you were sitting in his garage, putting the final touches on your presentation. It was late, and the two of you were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

“Here,” he said, handing you a mug of tea. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you teased, taking the mug.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the garage filling the space.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”

He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “I mean it. I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do. It’s… refreshing.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the data. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re finally being nice.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made your heart race.