#I’ve drawn these fucks like- once

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

am I doing it right

[lesbiansanemi]

I know part of the point of therapy is to make you actually confront and unpack the things you haven’t/don’t want to but god nothing makes me more viscerally upset or defensive than when my therapist points something out that ik is probably true and don’t want to consider

[designernishiki]

woe. kiryu be upon ye

[no1ryomafan]

We’re gonna ignore the fact it’s nearly 3 am while I type this but I’m gonna for once embrace my true cringe-I say as cringe is dead-and admit at least here since I said it on twit but not everyone follows me there that I’ve been cooking up a getter crossover fic with mega man ZX of all things. Why? Well next to mega man being what truly sparked my obsession for robots and ZX is my favorite series of the franchise there is a scary amount of similarities between the two that a crossover unironically fucking works well. Like I don’t think it was anything intentional, ZX definitely has some mecha influence like every other mega man series but it was more so (obviously) inspired off of toku if we focus on an genre in Japan. However both in a way can be boiled down to “humanity’s future is tied directly to machines” and “destiny is my path to choose” in terms of narrative themes so they legit stick together sososso well.

(also I noticed like- Arma!Kei and Go and Ashe and Grey are almost scarily fucking similar minus Ashe&Grey actually getting to know each other since that sadly doesn’t happen-in the manga they do meet but they aren’t related rip-in game but I might need to save that for a different post even though it’s not at all in the au since there’s no place for it I just I rotate it constantly)

Me and my beta reader were so insane enough that for nearly a YEAR we figured out this au because it was just “what if ryoma but in ZX” for the longest fucking time I’m not fucking exaggerating because it’s a semi trend of mine to want to throw ryoma into other series even if I’ve mostly restrained myself with this 💀 But when the fic is up I will likely be tagging it under ZXG so it’s easy to organize so yeah.

[wainawtmai]

thinking of satoru dating mean!reader who absolutely despises any sort of pda. All of his students wonder how he’d even managed to woo you when you dodged his kisses, cringed at his excessive compliments, and shooed him away every time he tried to hug you like the touch-obsessed bug he was. It was a wonder that you guys were even together.

…well, it was kind of hard to brush him off when he was balls deep inside you.

“fuuuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.” satoru moans, that stupidly pretty grin on his lips as he watches your pussy absolutely gobble up the length of his cock. You tremble from the feeling, struggling to bite back your moans as his thick dick thrusts up into you. You hate the way the sound of his voice makes your body buzz with heat, a mix of embarrassment and lust that you both hate and love.

“so wet and ready for me all the time, aren’t you?” you know part of him does it to get a rise out of you, the sadistic little shit liked watching you squirm and sputter, all flustered at the sound of his voice.

and as per usual, you told yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, “S-Shut up.” you mean for it to come off as a warning but it sounds more like a pitiful whine. You can’t help it with the way he thrusts up into you, mouthing sloppy kisses into your skin in between his sinful words.

“you know you love me,” he sings into your ear, “You loveee the way my cock fills you up, don’t deny it, baby.” as if to further emphasize his point he brings his hands to the meat of your ass, prying you further open and drilling into you, fucking into that spot that drove you insane. You couldn’t even try to hide your disgusting moans and whimpers, nails digging into the skin of his arms as you tried and failed to fight the pleasure.

“what did I say,” he sing-songs, bringing a hand to your clit and rubbing at it with quick circles, “I’ve turned you into such a pretty mess.” of course he still has that Cheshire-sized grin on his face, his crystal eyes mesmerized by the sight of your grinding hips and the slickness you leave along his cock with each thrust he makes into your trembling pussy. Listening to the desperate little sounds you swore you didn’t make when he pressed a finger to your clit. Rendered absolutely useless. He loved seeing you like this.

“so pretty.” satoru moans, his voice slightly slurring with pleasure, “so—fuck—g-gorgeous all fucked out for me.”

you mustered up what was left of your strength to slap a hand over his lips, silencing him as you shuddered from your orgasm. “shut up, s-satoru.”

But you could see that look in his eyes: framed by those annoyingly pretty white lashes, blue and mischievous—or at least more so than usual. He brought his own hand to your weakening one, pulling your fingers into his mouth and sucking on them with a loud whorish moan, all the while still pounding into you.

“Mnghfuck you, satoru.” You garble, whimpering with overstimulation despite still grinding down against his cock in time with his thrusts, you hated how much he knew you loved being overstimulated, the freaky little fuck.

He only hummed in response, too occupied with your fingers to respond, practically deep-throating the index and middle. You could feel his chest rumble with amused laughter as he watched you fall apart once again, your skin tingling with the shock of your second orgasm. He followed you soon after, aquamarine eyes lidding as he practically gagged on your fingers, emptying himself into you with a long, drawn out moan.

You tiredly pull your fingers out of his mouth, slightly missing the warmth, and practically fell on top of him. But before your eyes could flutter closed, you felt Satoru throb, your cheeks heating as you remember the nasty fucker also had a thing for overstimulation.

You swear as his thrusts continue, fucking his milky cum dripping between your thighs back into you. And despite how much you tell yourself his words were annoying, his murmurs of imagining your fingers as your clit as he sucked at them, drove you to the edge all over again.

Maybe you didn’t hate it.

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[adorekento]

Thinking about Nanami Kento who started eating pineapples because he read somewhere that says it makes your cum taste better.

Yes. That’s all it took. One article.

He swore by it like it was gospel. And he’s definitely the type to believe anything he sees on social media—he once showed you an AI-generated video of a cat breakdancing with the most serious face and asked, “How do they train them to do this?”

You love him. Truly.

But sometimes, your man is a little too earnest.

At first, you didn’t think much of it.

“Pineapples?” you asked, brows raised as you pushed the grocery cart down the aisle, glancing at him with suspicion. He nodded, stepping beside you to help push the cart toward the fruit section.

“I’ll eat it. Don’t worry.” he said with the most nonchalant tone.

You snorted. “Ken, you never eat pineapples. Don’t play with me.”

He shrugged casually, reaching out for a ripe one. “Just trying out new things, darling.”

You didn’t press. You just smiled and kept shopping.

But then it became a pattern.

He started slicing pineapples right after breakfast. Drinking pineapple juice after lunch. Eating pineapple rings straight from the fridge after dinner. You’d find him standing by the counter at night—shirtless, towel around his waist, wet hair from the shower—cutting up fresh chunks like it was his new religion.

“What’s gotten into you, Ken?” you asked one night, leaning against the doorway in one of his old shirts. “Is this part of some new diet?”

“Don’t mind me, dear..” he said smoothly, offering you a slice. “Want some?”

You declined, shook your head, and walked back to your shared bedroom.

Then came the requests—“Can you pack me some pineapple slices for lunch, love?”

“Could you make me a pineapple smoothie before I head out?”

“Do we still have those pineapple popsicles?”

Now you were suspicious.

And then... you understood.

“O-Oh... Ken!”

You gasped, your voice muffled as he held your hair tighter, his other hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion. He was on the couch, legs spread, breathing ragged as you took his cock deeper into your mouth.

His hips rolled up slowly, purposwfully, guiding you with control and need. “Yes... darling... mhm—just like that...” he groaned, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through your core.

You moaned softly around him, and he twitched against your tongue.

“Fuck... your mouth feels so good, baby.” he hissed, head falling back, golden brows furrowing in pleasure. “So pretty like this. So good for me.”

You hollowed your cheeks, slow and steady, letting your tongue trace every ridge and vein as his hips bucked slightly, losing composure.

His jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and his abs tensed under the golden glow of your bedroom lamp. He looked so perfect—hair damp, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in quiet awe as if you were divine.

Then his breath hitched. He cursed—low and deep—before he came, faster than usual. Hot, thick, with that slight tang you’d started noticing lately.

Your lashes fluttered, heart pounding as you stayed there, taking it all—tasting him, claiming him.

You closed your eyes for a second, letting your breath fan against his sensitive skin, before pulling off him slowly with a soft, wet pop. His chest rose and fell hard, like he’d just sprinted a marathon in your name.

Still catching his breath, He lookwd down at you, flushed. “is it… better?” he asked, a little hopeful, a little shy, like he’d just asked for validation on a science fair project.

You blinked up at him and raised a brow. “Mhm. It felt good, baby.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured, voice still thick with pleasure. But then, not too long.. “That’s all?”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean, Ken?”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “Well… I... read this article—it says if you eat pineapples regularly, it… um… makes your... release taste sweeter.”

You stared at him.

He cleared his throat. “So I’ve been… keeping track. Just curious if there's some change..”

You blinked again.

Then laughed. Loudly. Almost doubled over, laughing into his thigh.

“Oh, Ken.” you said through your grin, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “You’ve been training for that? You do know you don’t have to, right? Your cum already tastes good.”

He flushed. Actually flushed. “I just thought... maybe it’d be even better.”

“You’re ridiculous.” you giggled, crawling up his body and pressing kisses to his jaw. “And weird. But… weird in a sweet, earnest, completely MY boyfriend way.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Later that night, you found him watching a video titled “5 Signs Your Boyfriend Hates You”, his face set with that same intense seriousness. He nodded along, mentally ticking off the signs to make sure he wasn't doing them with you. You didn't even bother to say anything. You just grabbed his collar and kissed him, harder.

a/n: I'm writing some long ass shit plz WAIT (it's nanami 💋)

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[valyvinny]

ׂ╰┈➤ ❝Love and deepspace boys ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Their favorite part of you❞

PAIRING : Caleb x reader, Sylus x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader and Xavier x reader GENRE : Fluff + Smut WORD COUNT : 1k TAGS : NSFW, Sexual themes, Hickeys, Breast fucking, Handjob, Mastrubation, dacryphillia A/N : HIIII It's been a while. I'm done with exams and I'm just waiting on the results. In the meantime, I wrote this small piece to kind of get back into the groove of writing. My next piece will deffo be longer and more detailed than this! Anyways, enjoy!!

Which part of you do the Lads boys absolutely adore?

── .✦ Rafayel

Rafayel’s favorite part of you are your hands. 

He loves it when you caress his cheeks, nuzzling into your palm like a cat. For someone who despises them, he strangely has many feline characteristics. 

Rafayel adores the feelings of your fingers carding through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp when he’s lying on your chest on a lazy afternoon. The action makes him feel almost drowsy. 

He loves holding your hand in his, feels a sense of reassurance when you squeeze his that you’re here, you’re real and you’re his. 

But he also loves watching your fingers slide in and out of your pussy, your head thrown back in pleasure as you alternate between rubbing tight circles on your clit and feeling your warm walls clamp down on your fingers. You’re a damn tease and you know it. 

Other times, the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock sends him into a frenzy. 

There’s something vulnerable and unbelievably sexy about leaving his pleasure in your hands. Each stroke combined with you thumbing his slit bringing him closer to the edge 

Every flick of your wrist has him aching with need, long drawn out moans leaving his lips as he begs for release. 

── .✦ Zayne

Zayne’s favorite part of you are your eyes. 

He adores how expressive they are — how they crinkle with joy or laughter, how they widen in surprise whenever he stops by your apartment, and how they narrow with determination when you're deep in concentration. 

But most importantly, he cherishes the way you look at him. 

Your eyes soften when your gaze shifts to him, instantly lighting up in his presence. Almost like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He preens under your attention. 

He also loves how they fill with tears of pleasure when he’s rolling his hips into yours, hitting all the right spots. 

Zayne is very intentional with his thrusts. They’re slow and measured but so so deep, reaching places in you that your own fingers can barely touch. 

But Zayne’s favorite part is holding your gaze, watching your brows furrow with each thrust, his thumb wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes and trickle down your cheeks. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you” he whispers, not once looking away from you, drinking in the sight of you so debauched. You flush under his hot gaze. 

It’s intimate and overwhelming at the same time, but neither of you would have it any other way. 

── .✦ Sylus

Sylus’ favorite part of you is your back. 

Whenever you’re together, you’ll always find a protective hand placed on the small of your back guiding you through busy streets. 

He’s subtle with it, his hand is barely there allowing you to move around freely while also serving as a warning to anyone who dares to lay a finger on you in his presence. 

In the rare event that the both of you have time to spare, you’ll often find yourself in the N109 zone, in Sylus’s room of course. 

You have your head on his chest and his hand drawing circles on your back as you spend your time simply talking and catching up on the happenings of the week.

Sometimes, Sylus would lightly drag his fingers up your spine causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles, interrupting your conversation. 

“It tickles” you’d complain, with no real malice in your tone. 

However, the most delectable sight is definitely your arched back when you’re close to cumming. The delicious curve of your spine lifting off the bed while you push your head into the pillow, barely restraining the wanton moans that escape your lips. 

Other times, he has you lying flat on your stomach, pressing kisses down your spine as he thrusts into your wet heat. When he feels you shudder in response, it only urges him to go quicken his pace. 

── .✦ Xavier

Xavier’s favorite part of you is your neck. 

At the core of it, Xavier’s favorite activities include sleeping and cuddling. Combine the two, and he’s a happy man. 

That’s why on most mornings you find that he can’t resist the urge to nuzzle into your nape. Savoring the warmth of your body while brushing his nose against the sensitive skin of your neck.

When you have your back against him, Xavier will take the opportunity to sneakily wrap his hand around your waist, burrowing his face in your neck, earning a surprised yelp from you before the action reduces you into a fit of giggles. 

These instances were playful, innocent even

A stark contrast to when he’s caging you between his arms and the bed, ravaging your throat like a man starved. Each kiss is accompanied by his teeth sinking into your skin followed by his tongue laving against the spot in apology. 

This combined with his needy thrusts had you absolutely delirious. Your moans along with your sharp hisses from each bite would only spur him on further. Rest assured, you wouldn’t be leaving until Xavier had your neck sporting hues of blues and purples, successfully claiming you as his. 

── .✦ Caleb

Caleb’s favorite part of you is your chest. 

It’s no secret that a good nights sleep is hard to come by for Caleb. He’s often plagued with nightmares. Some of them are your days in the lab being experimented on, others of you dying because he failed to protect you. 

Every time he jolts awake, he turns over to your sleeping form and lays his head on your chest. The sound of your heartbeat slows his own racing pulse and heavy breathing. Reminding him that you’re very much here and alive. The steady thrumming lulls him back to sleep. 

Caleb feels a streak of possessiveness when he sees you wearing your apple necklace. The dog tag dangling down your chest satisfies a part of him, knowing that you always have a piece of him on you at all times. 

But nothing compares to having you bare chested in front of him. He takes his time with you, teasing the bud in between his fingers while nipping and licking the other one, the action earning your long drawn out moans. 

He’s relentless with it, sucking and biting until your nipples are swollen and hard, littering purple marks around the skin of your breasts. 

When he’s feeling particularly needy, he fucks your tits like there’s no tomorrow. Frantic thrusts as you squeeze your breast together making a tight vice for him to fuck. And he isn’t stopping until he has his cum splattered across your chest.

© valyvinny. All right reserved. Do not steal, copy, translate, repost or reupload any of my works. Do not use my work for AI

[phantasm-echo]

POV: you wake up in the middle of your own autopsy with force powers then immediately get brainwashed into falling to the dark side

I was reminded of the fact that I haven’t drawn inquisitor!fives’ autopsy scars in way too long so here I am, delivering a few too many Fives 💀

Anyway I know I don’t post much about the AU on here so props to anyone who knows what’s going on here even slightly, I’ve decided to nerf siren!echo (who WAS part of this AU yes I know quite random) but since him being turned into a siren kinda limits what I can do with him story wise he is now an AU of the AU.

That means the name I came up with for the au (dead mean walking/swimming or dmw(s) as I’ve been tagging it) is kinda irrelevant. I’ll just call this the inquisitor fives AU but if you have any AU name suggestions feel free to drop them.

Here are some of the major factors of the AU:

It gets worse before it gets better

(WARNING: there are quite a few heavy topics covered in the AU such as torture, dehumanisation and su*cidal thoughts, so pls read at your own discretion)

- fives wakes up in the middle of his own autopsy with force sensitivity, then gets brainwashed into falling to the Dark Side by Palpatine. As an Inquisitor, he does not remember anything about his life because those memories were blocked by Palpatine.

- Palpatine discovers that Fives is essentially immortal, and any injuries inflicted on him will heal no matter how bad.

- when echo gets rescued from skako minor, he is recalled to Kamino for experimentation, first of all so they can figure out what the Techno Union did to him, second of all to see how he survived his injuries. Nala se, who knows that fives came back to life, theorises that since he and echo were tube twins they share the “immortality”. He is kept on Kamino for VERY extensive experimentation where terrible things happen to him (cough vivisection cough lobotomy) and so never joins Clone Force 99 even if he did work with them on Anaxes.

- Fives in this time is sent out on many missions by Palpatine that involve him unaliving many people, and after the rise of the Empire he hunts a few Jedi.

- Fox, who throughout the war had experienced many blackout missions where he woke up afterwards covered in blood, is the last living Coruscant Guard commander. (Thorn dies, stone vanishes one day, Thire mistakes Vader for a Jedi and pays the price) Despite the best efforts of his son secretary Dogma (no way!?) Fox has very little will to live, is extremely depressed and borderline suicidal, he would like nothing more than to bite the dust, but still feels he has a duty to the very few remaining corries and so tries to keep it together (he is failing)

- one day Palpatine decides he doesn’t need Fox to do his bidding anymore since he has much better assets at his disposal (Fives), and decides it would be ironic to sic his pet clone inquisitor onto Fox. Fives still doesn’t remember anything, and only knows that Fox is responsible for the main scars on his body and believes fox is the reason he doesn’t remember most of his life, and so sets out to kill fox. They battle it out (ref to that one animation wip I posted) and fives is on the verge of killing fox (who didn’t really try to fight that much, like I said he would very much like to die and dying at the hand of the vod he “killed” seems fitting to him) when he gets a sudden vision of echo.

- all fives knows is echo is extremely important to him and must be rescued and that snaps him out of palpatine’s control. He knows he probably can’t rescue echo alone, and since fox has already been betrayed by the empire he decides “fuck it” and basically kidnaps fox and they run. They make a deal, that once echo has been found, Fives will put Fox out of his misery (fox feels that fives should be the only person to kill him, and only goes along with the plan because he refuses to let anyone else kill him)

- fox and fives proceed to go on an intergalactic road trip to “rescue echo” even though neither of them know how to do that. They become closer friends throughout, and fives slowly regains bits and pieces of the Before

- meanwhile during the destruction of Kamino, the bad batch stumble on echo and rescue him and he stays with them for a little bit before leaving with Rex

- meanwhile Dogma helps the rest of the remaining Corries desert, kills too many storm troopers, and tries to go after his buir fox and the bastard inquisitor who kidnapped him

This is the main stuff you need to know for the AU haha so if you’ve got new name suggestions I’m all ears ty!!

[violetszn]

three

summary ✩ how does one deal with drunkenly kissing your roommate last night? by pretending it never happened apparently. or at least, that seemed to be the route you and vi were taking after the eventful night you had. things had definitely changed, though, and everyone could see it.

warnings ✩ 8.3k ✩ swearing, arguing, miscommunication (definitely won’t be the last time), there’s a guy that’s a gross asshole, a few different time/scene skips

notes ✩ been trying to update this weekly to the day but i keep missing a day 🤧

⇦ chapters ⇨

You wake up with a groan, your head pounding as if a jackhammer is drilling straight into your skull. Your mouth is dry, your body feels sluggish, and the events of last night are a mess of flashing lights, pulsing music, and… Vi. 

Fuck.

Blurry flashes of her hands on your waist, her lips close to yours, her voice low and teasing — her lips on yours, her hand gripping your thigh. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to sort through what was real and what might’ve just been the haze of alcohol.

Forcing yourself out of bed, you head into the bathroom, getting cleaned up. You then shuffle out of your room, drawn by the faint sound of movement in the kitchen.

Vi is standing at the stove, stirring something in a mug, her back turned to you. The scent of honey and something herbal fills the air, and your stomach turns, but in a grateful way.

At the sound of your footsteps, Vi glances over her shoulder, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Morning, trouble,” she teases, her voice lighter than you expected. She gestures toward the counter, where a glass of water and a few pills sit. “Figured you’d need that.”

You mumble a hoarse ‘thanks’ before downing the water, wincing at the way your body protests the movement.

A moment later, Vi hands you the mug she was stirring. “Tea. Should help with the hangover.”

You take it from her, the warmth instantly soothing against your palms. As you blow on the surface, neither of you say anything about last night.

Vi watches you carefully, her fingers drumming against the counter. Did you even remember? Should she bring it up?

Instead, she settles for her usual teasing grin. “Rough night, huh?”

You roll your eyes playfully but don’t disagree, sipping your tea in silence.

Vi leans against the counter, sipping her own tea as she watches you swirl yours around in your mug. The smug glint in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this a little too much.

“How are you not dying right now?” you grumble, rubbing your temples.

Vi chuckles, the sound low and amused. “You call this a hangover? I’ve dealt with worse.”

You peek up at her through squinted eyes, curiosity piqued. “Yeah? Like what?”

She smirks, shaking her head. “Let’s just say there was a time when I didn’t exactly pace myself.” She takes another sip of tea. “Got my ass kicked in a fight once while still drunk. Not my proudest moment.”

You blink at her. “You fought while wasted?”

Vi shrugs. “Didn’t plan on it. Just… happened.” She sets her tea down and gives you a lazy grin. “But, I still walked away in pretty okay shape. Can’t say the same for the other guy.”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course you did.”

Vi watches as you attempt to sit up straighter, only to groan as the pounding in your skull reminds you of your condition. Before you can react, her hand is at your forehead, gently brushing hair out of your face. It’s the lightest touch, barely there, but it sends a warm shiver down your spine.

“You look rough, sweetheart,” she murmurs.

Your breath catches. Another nickname. It rolls off her tongue so smoothly, like she’s been calling you that for a lifetime.

Your heart stumbles over itself, your headache momentarily forgotten as you meet her eyes. “You—”

Before you can question it, Vi’s already moving, grabbing the tea she made for you and pressing it back into your hands. “Drink up. It’ll help, I promise.”

You take the cup, fingers brushing against hers in the exchange. She doesn’t pull away immediately, her fingertips lingering against your skin just a second too long.

It’s so subtle, so casual, yet it makes heat crawl up your neck. The way she’s watching you; relaxed, teasing, yet just a little too attentive. It’s driving you insane.

You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at her. “Thanks,” you mumble, taking a careful sip.

Vi smiles softly but says nothing, her gaze burning into you before she finally takes a step back, giving you space to breathe.

Except space is far from what you want.

The cafe is warm, filled with the scent of espresso and fresh pastries, the low hum of conversation blending with the quiet clack of typing and the rustle of pages turning. You sit at a small corner table with your student, textbook open, explaining a particularly tricky concept when a familiar figure steps through the door.

Vi.

She spots you immediately, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she strolls toward you, effortlessly confident. She’s wearing her usual jacket, sleeves pushed up to reveal the strong lines of her forearms and the ink of her tattoo showcased on her arms. She’s carrying something in her hand. It isn’t until she’s standing next to your table, dropping the item in front of you, that you realize what it is.

Your notebook. The one with all of your tutoring notes. The one you hadn’t even realized was missing yet. Your mouth opens slightly in surprise as you glance down at it, then back up at Vi, who looks far too pleased with herself.

"Figured you'd need this," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Saw it on the counter before you left. Thought I'd save you the panic attack when you finally noticed."

You blink at her, warmth pooling in your chest despite the teasing in her voice. "You… came all the way here just to bring this to me?"

Vi shrugs like it’s nothing, but there’s something softer in her expression. "It’s on the way to class," she lies. You both know it’s not. The small studio she teaches boxing in is in the opposite direction of the cafe — in fact coming here first adds an extra 20 minutes to her route.

Your student watches the exchange with clear curiosity, eyes darting between you and Vi, and suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the way she’s looking at you. Like this isn’t just some casual favor — like she’d do so much more if you asked.

"Thanks, Violet," you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice comes out a little too soft.

Vi nods, her smile softening before she pats the back of your chair lightly. "No problem, sweetheart." Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads for the door, leaving behind a lingering warmth that stays with you long after she’s gone.

“That your girlfriend?”

“What— her? Vi? N-no, no. She’s not. She’s just… she’s my… roommate. Anyways, next problem, yeah?” You awkwardly flip open your notebook, ignoring the way your student eyes you curiously.

You’d picked up on the subtle changes in your relationship over time. The way Vi’s hand would linger on the small of your back when she passed by, how she’d casually throw an arm around your shoulders when you walked together. Personal space had become practically nonexistent — her legs draping over yours on the couch, her body pressed close when you’re both in the kitchen, her hand in your hair, ruffling it with a smirk when she walked by.

And then there were the nicknames. Trouble. Sweetheart. Sunshine. Baby. They fell from her lips so naturally now, as if she barely even thought about it. But you thought about it, every single time.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized just how well you worked as roommates. The way you both naturally fell into a rhythm, like you’d been living together for years rather than months. You had your own unspoken routines — her making sure there was always tea stocked in the kitchen for you, you making sure there was extra protein powder in the cabinet for her shakes. She’d walk you to class when she had the time, and you’d grab her one of her favorite treats when she was running late to meet you at the cafe.

A few of her students in her boxing classes have had to quit so she’s found herself with a bit more free time. Too much free time if you ask her. She’s tried to fill a lot of it with you. Picking you up on days she usually didn’t, waiting for your tutoring sessions to finish, picking up your favorite treat so it’s already there for you after dealing with a rather stressful student. “‘s okay. I don’t mind really, it’s just until I find something else to do with my free time, sweetheart.”

It’s sometime before the two of you head out to meet Powder and after another long tutoring session that Vi casually drops, “Thinkin’ about joining the football team. What do you think?”

You blink up at her from the couch as you lace up your boots. “The… football team? Like the actual team?”

Vi smirks, lounging back against the couch. “Yeah. Figured it could be fun and gives me something else to do. And, y’know, I could use another excuse to knock some people around.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I think you do that enough already, Violet.”

She laughs. “Come on, Sunshine. I’ll look good in the jersey, promise.”

As if she doesn’t already look good in everything. You shake your head, but there’s no real protest behind it.

“Will you have the time? I know you have more free time but is it enough?”

She nods, motioning vaguely. “I’m down two students for my classes so that’s less hours and I can always move my class time around to fit with my football schedule.”

“Then yeah. I think you’d be great at it. And you’d look great in a jersey.”

Something flickers in her expression at that, something warm and pleased before she nods. “Guess I’m joining, then.” Just like that, as if your opinion is the only one that matters. She grins, standing up and holding her hand out to you. She tugs you from the couch and you’re off, making your way to the Last Drop.

Today was your day off but that didn’t stop you from showing up. With all the time you’ve spent here, this place is like your home away from home. Even when it’s packed full of strangers and overly-hyped people.

Vi’s leading you to the bar, you taking your seat in the barstool and Vi taking her usual spot, planted right beside you, practically standing between your legs as she keeps you close. Ekko and Powder join you, Powder rambling about some movie they’d seen before they got here. 

You’d gotten so comfortable together, so natural, that you hadn’t even blinked an eye at the feeling of her hand finding its usual spot on your thigh. It seemed whenever you were in a crowded place like this, she found some form of solace in keeping you close and her hands on you in some way or another. Not that you minded even in the slightest.

“—there’s just no way! We should go see it again tomorrow, how about you two? Busy?” Powder asks and Vi nods.

“Yeah, tryouts are tomorrow.” Vi shrugs and Powder raises a brow.

“Tryouts?”

“Yeah, your sister’s about to be the next football star at ZU.” Vi rolls her eyes squeezing your thigh gently.

“Oh ha-ha. I’m not gonna be some kinda star, I’m just trying out for the team, alright?” Vi waves down the bartender, ordering for you both as you continue the conversation with Powder. The night goes on, conversating, dancing - Powder even somehow got Vi to take part in karaoke. Now you’d heard Vi singing small tunes here or there but once she was behind that mic you quickly discovered that she could sing, despite her own claims.

As the night dwindles down, you find yourself standing around with Powder as Ekko excuses himself to the bathroom and Vi steps away for a moment to help Vander out. You were both moving slightly to the beat of the song that played as you nursed your drink and Powder was immersed in her conversation with whoever she was texting.

You were just about to take another sip from your drink, when a voice beside you made you pause.

“Hey,” a guy drawled, sidling up next to you. “You here with anybody?”

You blinked, turning to glance at him. He had that air of casual confidence that immediately put you on edge, like he was already assuming the answer he wanted.

“Yeah, some friends,” you replied easily, gesturing toward Powder, who was still lost in her own world, focused on adjusting the sights of a small gadget she was tinkering with.

The guy chuckled, leaning in slightly. “Nah, I mean, are you here with anybody? As in, is someone here lucky enough to be taking you home tonight?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening around your glass. The implication was clear, and the sudden attention made you uncomfortable. You opened your mouth to reply, but then, over his shoulder, you spotted Vi. She was setting down a box behind the counter but as she turned her head, her eyes flicked toward you. Almost instinctively, you found yourself blurting out, “Yeah actually. Goin’ home with her.”

You motioned towards Vi as she made her way back over to you and the guy let out a nervous huff. His expression shifted slightly, his confidence faltering. “Vi?” he echoed, like he misheard you. “Vander’s daughter, Vi? Taking you home?”

Before you could confirm, a familiar weight draped over your shoulders as Vi slid in beside you, wrapping an arm around you like it was second nature. “Hey, babe,” she murmured, her voice casual but pointed as she turned her head toward the guy, giving him an easy, lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He immediately straightened up, suddenly looking very aware of the situation he’d just walked into. “Oh, uh, right. Vi. Didn’t realize.” He let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to, uh… yeah. Didn’t mean to step on your toes — wasn’t trying to hit on your girl, I just… yeah.”

And with that, he made himself scarce.

Vi didn’t move her arm, letting it rest lazily over your shoulders as she grabbed your drink with her free hand, taking a sip. You didn’t say anything, just leaned into her in relief.

Powder, who had previously been absorbed in her phone, apparently texting Ekko, was now eyeing you two carefully. Ekko, returning from the bathroom, took one look at the way Vi was practically draped over you and let out a low, amused hum.

“Huh,” Powder mused.

“Yeah,” Ekko replied, subtly smirking.

Vi stayed close for the rest of the night, her touches lingering, her presence a constant warmth against your side. And for you, it wasn’t strange at all, just Vi being Vi. If anything, you figured she was still running off the remnants of adrenaline from running that guy off.

Eventually, the night wound down, and the four of you started heading out. Vi, as always, was glued to your side, her arm draped lazily over your shoulder. The cool night air hit as you stepped outside, and Vi was immediately tugging you closer, rubbing her hands up and down your arms like you were the one who needed warmth.

“You cold?” she asked, her voice softer now that it was just the two of you ahead while Ekko and Powder trailed behind.

“Not really,” you murmured, but you didn’t pull away either.

Vi smirked. “Right.” She squeezed your shoulder, her fingers brushing against the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Behind you, Powder let out a quiet hmm, and Ekko just nodded like, yeah, that tracks.

When you finally made it home, Vi followed behind you like a lost puppy almost like it was routine, which, at this point, it was. Clinging to your presence until it’s time to go to your separate rooms. You let out a sigh as you kicked off your shoes, stretching your arms over your head. Vi leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you with something unreadable in her expression.

“Long night,” she murmured.

You hummed in agreement, stepping past her to grab a glass of water. But before you could, Vi’s hand caught your wrist, stopping you in place.

You turned to face her, confused. “What—”

“You know you can always tell me if someone’s bothering you, right?” she asked, her voice low and serious. “Not just random assholes at the bar. Anyone. Even if I’m the one doing something wrong — just let me know, yeah?”

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden shift in tone, the intensity in her gaze. You nodded. “Yeah. Yeah,I know.”

Vi held your gaze for a second longer before she exhaled, her grip loosening but not quite letting go. “Good,” she said softly, then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “’Cause I don’t like seeing you uncomfortable. Especially not because of some dumbass who doesn’t know when to back off.”

Something warm curled in your chest at that. You swallowed. “Yeah, well… with you around, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that.”

Vi grinned, but there was something almost bashful about it, just for a moment. Then she gave your wrist one last squeeze before finally letting go. “Damn right.”

And just like that, the moment passed. Vi pushed off the counter, stretching her arms above her head with a groan. “Alright, I should head to bed.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the weird sense of disappointment that crept up at the thought of her going to her room for the night. You couldn’t help but think back to the conversation with that guy. 

Someone here lucky enough to be taking you home tonight?

Yeah. Goin’ home with her.

It was true enough but… part of you wished you were doing a bit more than just going home with her.

“Yeah. Get some sleep.”

Vi stepped toward her room door but hesitated, turning back at the last second. She smirked, reaching out to brush her finger down your arm playfully. “Dream about me, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving her lightly. “Go to bed, Vi.”

She laughed, gave you one last lingering look, then slipped into her room.

Yeah, so, you were getting really good at living together. And the more time passed, the more you realized just how easy it was to have Vi woven into your life, like she was always there.

Vi showing up to your art shows had become a given at this point. You never had to remind her, never had to ask, she was just there, always, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t matter if it was a small student showcase or a full-blown gallery event, she was front and center, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like she was ready to fight anyone who didn’t immediately recognize your talent.

“That one’s my favorite,” she’d say, nodding towards one of your pieces.

“You said that about the last three,” you’d laugh.

“Yeah, well. Maybe I just have good taste.”

She never left without telling you how much she loves your new art. Even if it was just a small print or a sketch you swore wasn’t worth anything, she’d tell you just what she loves about it and even asks if you could make her something special, just for her. Once, she even bought one of your pieces at one of the art exhibits you participated in. She’d just smirked, slipped you the money, and walked off before you could protest.

Then there was the way she’d have you meet her by the field after practice. No matter how late it got or how sore she was, she was always waiting for you, her bag slung over her shoulder, a cocky grin on her face like it was just another part of her routine. “C’mon, let’s get you home,” she’d say, nudging your arm as she led the way to her car. And she never even realized just how much of her life revolved around you now.

Powder certainly did, though. And she made it her mission to drop little hints and comments whenever she was around.

“So, Vi, when’s the wedding?” she’d ask, all wide-eyed innocence.

Vi would scoff, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, Pow.”

Or, “Y’know, for roommates, you guys sure spend an awful lot of time together.”

“We live together,” Vi would deadpan.

“Uh-huh. Sure, that’s why.”

And of course, there was her favorite; slyly glancing between the two of you before saying, “God, just kiss already.”

You’d brush her off, Vi would flick her forehead, and Powder would just smirk, shaking her head like she knew something neither of you did… which, honestly, she probably did.

The past few months had settled into a rhythm Vi hadn’t even realized she was craving. She still trained, still sparred in the gym, still let loose when she needed to, but the pit had barely even crossed her mind. Because instead of sneaking out at night, she was spending time with you. 

Late-night takeout runs when neither of you could sleep. You convincing her to pose for your sketches, her rolling her eyes but sitting still anyway, watching you in quiet fascination as you dragged charcoal across the page. You making her watch some slow-burn romance movie and Vi scoffing the whole time, only for you to catch her getting way too into it by the end.

She’d stopped looking for fights but that didn’t mean fights stopped finding her. It was late one night when Vi stumbled through the front door, kicking it shut behind her. You looked up from the couch, brows knitting together as you took her in—busted lip, fresh bruise blooming along her cheekbone, and knuckles torn up and raw. It was a sight you’ve sort of become accustomed to over the last few months. 

“Jesus, Vi,” you muttered, setting your book aside. “Rough night?”

She huffed out a laugh, wincing as she touched her lip. “You could say that.”

You pushed yourself up, already heading for the bathroom. “Sit.”

“Babe, I’m fine—”

You shot her a look over your shoulder. “Sit, Vi.”

Her lips twitched, like she wanted to smirk at the way you bossed her around, but she obeyed, dropping onto the couch with a quiet groan.

When you returned with the first aid kit, she was slouched back, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

“You look like shit,” you muttered, kneeling in front of her.

She grinned lazily. “You know just what to say to a girl.”

You rolled your eyes, gently taking her hand in yours. The knuckles were a mess of busted skin and dried blood. With careful precision, you began to clean them, your touch soft despite the sting you knew it caused.

Vi hissed. “Fuck, trouble, warn me next time.”

“I’m trouble? You’re the one who keeps getting into fights,” you shot back. 

“You love it,” she teased.

Your fingers faltered for a split second before you forced yourself to keep working.

Did you love it? Not really, you hated it honestly. But… there was something about taking care of Vi like this, about being the one she let see her like this, that made your heart squeeze in a way you didn’t want to examine too closely.

She let out a soft breath, and when you glanced up, she was watching you, eyes lidded and unreadable. Your stomach flipped.

You cleared your throat, reaching for an antiseptic wipe. “Lip next.”

Vi smirked. “I’m starting to think you just like having an excuse to touch me.”

“I’m starting to think you keep getting beat up so I can touch you.” You gently wipe at her lip, catching her eyes for a split second.

“Maybe I am.”

“Shut up.”

She chuckled but let you work, her lips parting slightly as you dabbed at the split in her lip. Your fingers brushed against her jaw, and you swore you felt her shiver. You swallowed hard.

“All done,” you murmured, sitting back.

Vi hummed, tilting her head as she looked at you. “You’re cute when you fuss over me like this.”

“Go to bed, Vi.”

Still grinning, she pushed herself up, ruffling your hair as she passed. “’Night, sweetheart.”

So, yeah. She hadn’t even noticed she’d stopped looking for fights, because being around you had this way of taking the edge off.

That is, until tonight.

It started small. A few sharp words, a sigh, an eye roll. But things between you had been easy for so long now that neither of you had any practice handling the moments when they weren’t. And with Vi’s pent-up frustration and your patience already worn thin, it was only a matter of time before things boiled over.

It was stupid. It shouldn’t have gotten this big. But it did.

"You were supposed to pick me up, Vi. If you weren’t going to, you could have at least let me know," you snapped, arms crossed tight as you stood across from her in the apartment. Your hair and clothing were still wet from the rain, your expression unreadable, but Vi didn’t miss the slight tremble in your fingers, the way your breath was coming a little too fast. You had to walk home alone. In the dark. In the rain. And she’d left you to do it.

"I know," Vi said, dragging a hand through her hair, her voice tight with frustration, at you, at herself, at the entire fucking night. "It wasn’t on purpose! I got caught up in—"

"In what?" you shot back, eyes narrowing. "Getting into fights? Again?"

Vi clenched her jaw. "It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t looking for a fight."

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "It’s always like that with you, Vi. You don’t think, you just react. And I’m the one stuck dealing with the fallout."

Vi’s fists curled at her sides. Not because she was angry at you, but because she hated that she’d messed up, that she’d made you look at her like that.

"That’s not fair," she said, voice low.

You scoffed. "You wanna talk about fair? I spent the whole damn day dealing with my student-from-hell, just trying to get through it, and the one thing I was looking forward to was seeing you. And instead, I get to walk home in the fucking rain while you’re off doing who knows what and then you fucking show up like this?" You gestured to her face, to the fresh bruise blooming around her eye.

Vi exhaled sharply, frustration rising. "I didn’t plan for this to happen."

"That’s the problem!" you fired back. "You never plan for anything! You just throw yourself into whatever fight’s in front of you and hope for the best!"

"Yeah? Well, maybe if you’d stop overthinking every-fucking-thing, you’d realize that—"

She stopped herself short. The words hung in the air, sharp and unfinished. Vi clenched her jaw, looking away. She didn’t wanna say anything else that’d make this situation any worse. Anything that’d hurt you.

Silence stretched between you.

Finally, you let out a short, exhausted breath, shaking your head. "I can’t do this right now." And with that, you turned and disappeared into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Vi stood in the middle of the living room, chest heaving, jaw clenched. The fight should’ve drained the tension out of her, should’ve left her exhausted, but instead, her body buzzed, restless and aching.

She looked at your closed door. She could fix this in the morning. But tonight? Tonight, she needed to hit something.

You spent the night curled up in bed, staring at your phone screen, the ache in your chest making it impossible to sleep.

Why did it have to go like this?

You weren’t that mad anymore, at least, not at Vi. Not really. More than anything, you just felt… hurt. You knew she hadn’t left you on purpose, but the way she didn’t think to call or even text? The way you walked through that door soaked from head to toe and she was just sitting there on the couch like nothing was going on? That stung.

With a sigh, you opened your messages and texted Gert from your art class. She was on the football team with Vi, so if anyone had seen what happened, it was her.

You Hey, random question did Vi get into it with someone at practice today?

A few minutes passed before your phone buzzed.

Gert lmao yeah she lost her shit on some asshole

You What happened?

Gert You sure you wanna know?

Your stomach twisted.

You Yeah.

It took her a minute, but eventually, another text came through.

Gert the asshole was running his mouth about how you’d taken in “Zaun’s best charity case” and it was only a matter of time until you got bored and moved onto some other project

You stared at the screen, heart sinking.

You what the hell

Gert yeah, vi wasn’t having it she told him he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about said you weren’t like that

Your chest ached.

You and then?

Gert and then the guy said if you were gonna waste your time with a nobody, you might as well pick someone who could actually show you a good time “Or maybe you just need a real man to take you for a test drive.”

Your stomach dropped.

You Are you serious?

Gert unfortunately. Vi snapped Next thing I knew, she was throwing punches. Coach had to pull her off him.

You swallowed hard, your emotions twisting into something raw and messy.

Vi hadn’t been late because she forgot. She’d been late because she was busy defending you. And you’d yelled at her for it.

You I’m such an asshole. I snapped at her for leaving me in the rain and she was just looking out for me.

Gert I mean you didn’t know. 

You Still. i mean she didn’t even care what the jerk said about her?

Gert nope. she seemed to be handling it fine until he started making those gross comments about you ngl i was about to throw some punches too before coach showed up

You who was the guy anyway?

Gert no clue. guess he’s in one of your classes or something? idk he seemed to know you.

You thanks for telling me everything

Gert always <3

You flopped back onto your pillow, staring at the ceiling as guilt pressed down on your chest. Vi getting into fights wasn’t anything new. You’d lost count of how many times she’d come home scraped up and bruised after going toe-to-toe with some asshole who deserved it. And every time, you were the one who patched her up, rolling your eyes at her recklessness even as you dabbed at her wounds with careful hands.

But this time, you hadn’t even asked. You’d just assumed.

You sit up, tossing your blanket off. You step into the hall, your nerves and guilt eating away at you. You hesitated at Vi’s door, your hand hovering just inches from the handle.

Maybe you should wait until morning.

She could be hotheaded, and if she was still stewing over the fight, pushing her now might just make things worse. You weren’t exactly in the best headspace either. Your frustration had simmered down, but your emotions were still tangled up in guilt, regret, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

With a heavy sigh, you let your hand drop and turned away, dragging yourself back to your room. You’d talk to her in the morning.

Letting your body sink into the mattress, you stared up at the ceiling. The fight replayed in your head over and over, and you winced at the memory of the things you’d said, the way you’d let your irritation get the best of you.

You should have asked. You would ask. Tomorrow.

Rolling onto your side, you shut your eyes and tried to force your mind to quiet.

Morning, then.

Morning came far too quickly.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your stomach twisting with nerves. You and Vi had bickered before; playful arguments over what movie to watch, snarky remarks thrown back and forth like a game of verbal ping-pong, but this? This was your first real fight and it was overwhelming.

What if you’d ruined everything?

The thought gnawed at you as you finally mustered the courage to leave your room. Your steps were hesitant, your breath shallow as you made your way into the hall. Vi’s door was cracked open just slightly, and through the small gap, you saw her sitting on the edge of her bed, finally icing her eye.

Your heart clenched.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and tapped lightly on the doorframe. “Need some help?”

Vi’s gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, you feared she’d send you away. But then, instead of nodding or answering with words, she simply parted her legs slightly, wordlessly inviting you into the space between them.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, standing between her knees as you reached for the ice pack. Her hands dropped to her thighs as she let you take over, her breath warm against your collarbone from how close you were standing.

You eased the ice pack from her fingers, brushing her hair out of her face with a gentleness you weren’t sure you deserved after last night. She winced slightly at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she relaxed under your care, letting her shoulders drop as she exhaled slowly.

Neither of you spoke as you sat there, the silence thick yet strangely comfortable. You focused on the task at hand, pressing the ice pack to her bruised skin with careful precision, while Vi simply watched you, her expression unreadable.

You didn’t know what to say yet. Didn’t know how to say it. But for now, this, being here, tending to her… it felt like enough.

You swallow, adjusting the ice pack against Vi’s bruised skin, watching the way her jaw tenses beneath your fingertips. The words sit heavy on your tongue, uncertain, but you force them out anyway.

"How, um… what happened? Yesterday, I mean? I asked Gert and she told me but… I wanna hear it from you." You keep your voice soft, unsure if you even have the right to ask after the way you snapped at her. "I was pissed about getting stuck in the rain, and I took it out on you. But I never even asked what actually happened and you deserved to at least… explain why you’re all beat up now."

Vi sighs through her nose, her hands flexing slightly on her thighs before she finally speaks. “Some asshole was running his mouth. That same one from the Last Drop that day. Talkin’ about how you’d taken me in like some charity case, and that it was only a matter of time before you got tired of me and moved on to your next project.”

Your stomach twists, heat rising to your cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from the anger of reliving this conversation. "Vi—"

“The funny part is, I didn’t even care about that. That I could’ve gotten over. I was handling it fine and I was just gonna brush it off but…” Her voice is steady, but you can hear the simmering frustration beneath it. “When I told him he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, he made some gross comments about testing you out for himself and how he could… fuck, the dude was a disgusting piece of shit.”

Your grip on the ice pack tightens. 

“And that’s when I hit him.” Vi says it so simply, like it wasn’t even a question of if but when. Like she had no choice. Like the moment those words left his mouth, her fists were already in motion.

You stare at her, your chest tightening with something dangerously close to guilt. She hadn’t cared what the guy had said about her, she’d only cared about defending you. And you hadn’t even given her the chance to explain before assuming the worst.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out, voice soft as your fingers tighten around the ice pack. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that yesterday."

Vi watches you for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she exhales through her nose, shaking her head slightly. “You don’t have to apologize, baby,” she murmurs softly, the nickname slipping out effortlessly. “I get why you were mad. I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have had to walk home alone last night, in the middle of the rain no less.”

Your chest aches at how easily she lets you off the hook, even after everything. Even after she spent the night taking punches over something you didn’t even know about. You swallow past the lump in your throat, shifting closer as you press the ice gently to her bruised skin.

Vi hisses at the contact but doesn’t pull away. Instead, her hands find their way to your waist, fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt like she needs to hold onto something.

You barely have time to register the shift before she spreads her legs a little wider, tugging you forward until you're settling onto her lap.

Your breath stutters, but Vi doesn’t seem to notice — her grip on you is firm, steady, keeping you close as she tilts her head slightly, giving you better access to her injury.

“Easier this way,” she mutters, her voice quieter now, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you.

You nod slowly, trying to ignore the way your pulse stutters when her fingers tighten at your waist. Your hands tremble slightly as you press the ice pack back to her eye, your focus flickering between the bruise darkening her skin and the way her lips part as she exhales.

Neither of you speak. You’re too aware of everything, the heat of her beneath you, the way her hands linger like she’s not quite ready to let go.

And then, so softly you almost don’t hear it, Vi murmurs, “You know I’d do it again, right?”

You meet her gaze, your heart lurching at the sincerity there.

She smirks slightly, like she’s trying to play it off, but her fingers flex against your waist. “Doesn’t matter what  anyone says. Nobody gets to talk about you like that. Especially not while I’m around.”

The words hit you like a slow, spreading warmth, sinking deep into your chest. You could say something, should say something, but the way Vi looks at you makes it impossible to think straight.

So instead, you just nod, keeping your hands steady as you take care of her.

Neither of you move. Neither of you let go. Truthfully, you don’t know what to say.

Lately, you’ve come to terms with your feelings for Vi — really come to terms with them. They are most definitely not platonic. Not even close.

And right now, you are painfully aware of the fact that you’re sitting on the lap of the prettiest woman you’ve ever known. It makes you feel insane.

Her hands are still resting at your waist, warm and solid, and it takes everything in you to focus on the ice pack in your hand instead of the way her grip lingers, like she doesn’t really want to let go.

And you can’t stop thinking about that fucking kiss.

The one neither of you have mentioned since it happened. The one that still lingers in your mind late at night, creeping into your thoughts when you least expect it. You remember the way she’d melted into you, the way she’d held you close, fingers tangled in your hair like she wanted you.

But she’s never brought it up. And if Vi isn’t talking about it, that can only mean one thing.

That’s why you don’t bring it up either. You don’t bring up the fact that she once told you, if you still want me when you’re sober, I’m all yours.

Because god, do you want her.

You want her more than you’ve ever wanted anything, and you hate yourself for it. Because what if you’re just imagining the way she looks at you? What if you’re the only one who still feels it, still wants it?

So instead of saying anything, you just focus on taking care of her, pressing the ice pack gently to her bruised eye. But your hands are unsteady, your heart pounding, and you know she has to feel it.

Vi furrows her brows, her confusion evident as she tilts her head slightly. “You alright?” Her voice is low, husky, tempting in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You swallow hard, nodding quickly. “Yeah,” you murmur, pulling the ice pack away to check the skin around her eye, desperate for something to focus on that isn’t the heat pooling in your chest.

The bruise is dark, angry, and you trace your fingers lightly around the uninjured skin, avoiding direct contact but still feeling the warmth of her beneath your fingertips. Vi doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away, just watches you with those piercing blue-grey eyes that seem to see right through you.

You clear your throat. “Just, um… keep watch of it until it gets better,” you say, grasping at anything to steer the conversation away from the dangerous path it’s threatening to take.

Vi smirks, but there’s something softer beneath it. Something unreadable. “Yes, doctor,” she teases, her hands still resting on your waist, thumbs barely grazing the fabric of your shirt.

You don’t move. You should move. But neither of you does. And for a moment, the air between you crackles with something unspoken, something that neither of you seems willing to face just yet.

Vi’s hand moves slowly, deliberately, her fingers grazing your cheek before her thumb brushes along your skin with aching tenderness. You feel your breath hitch as she cradles your face, her touch so gentle, so reverent that it makes your chest ache.

She leans in, her blue-grey eyes flickering down to your lips, and your heart pounds so hard you’re sure she can hear it. Every part of you is screaming to close the distance, to finally give in to the pull that’s been drawing you together for months. Her lip brushes yours for just a second, your eyes fluttering shut.

Then? A loud knock at the front door shatters the moment.

You jolt, your entire body tensing as reality crashes down around you. Without thinking, you scramble off of Vi’s lap, your pulse still thrumming wildly in your ears.

“I should, um… see who that is,” you stammer, already backing toward the door. Your cheeks burn, your mind racing as you desperately search for an escape.

Vi blinks, clearly thrown off by the sudden shift. Her hands, now empty, rest on her thighs as she watches you retreat. “Yeah… sure,” she mutters, voice rough, like she’s still pulling herself out of whatever haze had just fallen over the two of you.

You don’t look back as you practically flee the room, but you can feel Vi’s gaze on you the whole way out.

You swing the door open, still feeling the ghost of Vi’s touch on your skin, your pulse unsteady. And there, standing in the hallway, is Powder.

“Hey!” she greets cheerily, rocking back on her heels, completely unaware of the near heart attack you just had. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You swallow hard, shifting awkwardly. Not anymore, you think.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to steady your voice as you step aside to let her in.

Powder waltzes inside, hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. “Well, first, I brought back Vi’s hoodie she left at home last week,” she says, holding up the familiar fabric before tossing it onto the couch. “Second, I was bored and figured I’d come hang out for a bit. But mostly…” She trails off, eyes narrowing slightly as she looks you up and down. “You look weird.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

She tilts her head, scrutinizing you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Dunno, you just look kinda… frazzled. Like you just saw a ghost.”

Your throat goes dry. “No, I’m cool.”

“Okay…?” 

Behind you, Vi finally steps out of her room, her black eye still slightly swollen, the ice pack now abandoned. “Pow, what are you doing here?” she asks, her voice still a little rough from the tension just moments ago.

Powder spins to face her, her lips twitching up into a smirk as she takes in Vi’s face. “Damn, what the hell happened to you?”

Vi rolls her eyes. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Powder’s gaze flicks between the two of you again, sharp and knowing. Then she grins. “Well, anyway! I’m here now, so I hope you guys didn’t have plans or anything.”

Your stomach flips, and you avoid looking at Vi.

“Nope,” Vi says, a little too quickly. “Nothing at all.”

Powder hums, but her smirk lingers. “Riiight. Good to know.”

Powder flops onto the couch, draping herself over the armrest as she eyes Vi with a teasing grin. “Y’know, I’m starting to think you just like getting punched in the face,” she muses. “Like, at this point, it’s gotta be a hobby or something.”

Vi groans, rubbing her temple. “I don’t like getting into fights, Powder. Especially not on campus.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she snickers. “I swear, I leave you unsupervised for a couple days, and boom, another black eye. It’s honestly impressive.”

Vi crosses her arms. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Was the other guy fighting the air, then?”

“She was defending me,” you interject, surprising even yourself.

Both sisters turn to look at you, Powder with mild curiosity, Vi with her brows slightly raised.

You shift under their stares but hold your ground. “Some asshole was talking shit about me when I wasn’t around, and Vi stood up for me. I think it was sweet.”

Vi’s lips part slightly, like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, her usual confidence wavers, and to your delight, a faint blush creeps up her neck.

Powder, of course, doesn’t let it slide. “Awww, that’s what happened?” she coos, smirking at Vi. “You got all worked up over someone messing with your girl?”

Vi sputters. “That’s not… I wasn’t…” She groans, running a hand down her face, her blush darkening.

Powder cackles. “Wow. That might be the fastest I’ve ever seen you go red.”

Vi shoots her a glare. “Shut up.”

You bite back a smile, watching as Vi struggles to recover from the flustered mess you unintentionally just turned her into. 

A week or two later, you’re at Vi’s football practice, watching as her and her teammates rush around the field with precision and speed. Vi was genuinely really good at this. It was nice getting to see her in her element. There had even been a few time where you’d watched her fight, shocked by how good she really was. 

“Alright, great work today! Keep this up and we’ll be going home champions after the big game,” their coach calls out, patting each of them on their backs. Vi catches your attention, motioning towards the locker rooms with her head. You nod and she heads inside, leaving you to make your way over and wait outside for her like you’ve done a few times before. 

“Hey, lucky charm,” a girl nods at you as she exits the locker room, all cleaned up. 

“…me?” you question, pointing at yourself. She laughs, nodding.

“Yeah, you. Not sure what kinda charm you have but Vi? She’s an already great player but when you’re in the stands watching — shit, I’d hate to be on the opposing team.” She grins, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “So, yeah. You’re our little lucky charm. Don’t blame her, I’d wanna show off for you too.” She winks, waving as she walks away. 

“Hey, thanks for waiting up,” you hear a warm, familiar voice say, her arm coming to rest around your waist. “What did Ro want?” She hums, leading you away from the locker rooms and to the parking lot.

“Ro? That’s her name?” You hum, thinking about what she had said. “She just… claimed I’m some kind of lucky charm, I guess?”

“Oh… yeah. Yeah, that’s uh. That’s what the team calls you.” Her cheeks are uncharacteristically pink, her eyes avoiding yours. “Apparently, I play differently when you’re around? I don’t see it but everyone says so, so… guess it’s true.” She shrugs, opening the passenger side door for you. You climb into her car, watching as she tosses her bag into the back seat then climbs into the driver's seat. “I dunno, maybe it’s true. Lucky charm is a nice nickname for you.”

“As if you don’t already have a ton?” You hum, laughing softly. “Speaking of… why do you have so many nicknames for me? I don’t mind, I’m just curious.”

She shrugs, starting up the car and pulling out of the parking lot. “A cute girl deserves cute nicknames.” She doesn’t look your way but there’s a playful smirk on her lips. “How about you, hmm? How come you call me Violet? I don’t mind — I like it, honestly. But most people just stick with Vi. It’s easier, more fitting…”

“No, Violet fits pretty well. It’s pretty. Beautiful, even. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” You hum, tapping nervously on the car seat. Vi’s fingers grip the wheel a bit tighter and the blush on her cheeks has become impossible to not notice. 

“Yeah? That’s what you think I am?”

“You are. Pretty. Beautiful.” 

“Then you can call me Violet all you want, sweetheart. Sounds best coming from your lips anyways.”

tags ✩ @jupitism @fungalinfectionyeast @mk-a-1 @rhian88 @baylegend6 @lovely-wisteria @antobooh @arahiraaai @vxtanne31 @starletfemme @daughterofthemoons-stuff @rosesgaloree @sillyloafff @mellohatesyou @violetwifey @ilysupercorp @eriiwaii @elliesngirl @avalovesmus1c @pryncess123 @tthoughtdaughter @tamale-4 @sleepingwasp @sunflowerwinds

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴡᴇᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 ���𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺

smut, established relationship, angst, inexperienced reader, p in v, spitting, praise, reassurance, softdom!matt, first time (ish), fingering

requested here!

word count - 1.7k

Matt was warm everywhere. Warm mouth, warm hands, warm breath at your ear as he laid you back against his sheets and kissed his way down your throat.

“You’re sure?” he whispered, lips at your collarbone. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

You nodded quickly, too full of want to say much more. “I want to.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

He kissed you again. Deep, slow, tongue slipping between your lips, and pushed your thighs apart with his knees. You were bare beneath him, skin prickling with nerves, heart pounding in your chest. You could already feel his cock, hard and heavy, dragging slow across your center as he moved above you.

You gasped when he lined himself up, breath catching when he pressed the tip to your entrance. But then, nothing. Just pressure. A tight stretch that made your thighs tense and your throat close up a little.

Matt’s hips barely rocked, easing forward, but you winced and stiffened beneath him.

He stopped immediately. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

You swallowed, blinking fast. “No. I mean… not really. It just won’t go in.”

He sat back on his knees, still between your thighs, brows drawn together. “It’s okay. Hey, hey, look at me.”

You did, even though your eyes were starting to sting. “I don’t think I’m wet enough,” you whispered. “I thought I was, but, fuck, I’m sorry…”

“Stop.” His voice was quiet but firm. His hands came to your thighs, squeezing gently. “Don’t you dare say sorry. There’s nothing wrong. You hear me?”

Your throat was tight. “I just… I wanted it to be good.”

“It is good,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “You’re letting me see you like this. Letting me take care of you. That’s so good.”

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed and a little breathless.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmured. “I’ll help.”

You did, slowly, and watched as Matt leaned back and brought two fingers to his mouth. He held your gaze as he spit into them, slow and deliberate, hot against his skin, and brought his hand between your thighs. You shivered when his fingers met your folds, spreading the wetness over you with slow circles, soft pressure, deliberate care.

“Feels better already,” he said lowly, more to himself than to you. “God, your pussy’s so pretty. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You nodded quickly, too caught up in the building heat between your legs to form anything coherent. His fingers pressed slightly harder, making small, deliberate circles around your clit, and you gasped, your body instinctively arching toward his hand, heat already pooling in your gut.

You whimpered as he slipped a finger inside you, just one, curling it gently while he watched your face. Then another, stretching you slow, rubbing the slick around and in you. You were already breathing heavier, hips starting to rock toward his hand without even thinking.

“There she is,” he whispered, grinning when your breath caught. “Knew you just needed a little help.”

You felt hot everywhere. “That feels so much better.”

“Yeah? Think you’re ready for more?”

“Please,” you said, barely able to get the word out.

Matt kissed you again, fingers slipping free. He stroked himself once, twice, spreading his spit along his length before guiding the tip back to your entrance. He pressed in slowly this time, watching your face, breathing heavy as he eased inch by inch inside you.

“Oh my god,” he groaned when he bottomed out. “You feel so good. So warm.”

You gasped at the stretch, but it didn’t burn like before. Just full. Deep. Right.

“Doing okay?” he asked, voice low and careful.

You nodded, clinging to his shoulders. “Feels good. Just don’t move yet.”

“I’ll stay right here,” he promised, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. Not until your hips started to rock up into his, and your body told him it was okay to move. Not until your breath turned to moans and your hands pulled him closer. Not until he made you feel exactly how he’d promised: safe, cared for, ruined in the softest way.

His hips moved slowly, dragging against you, the pace languid and teasing, every inch of him brushing against the deepest parts of you. He kept his thumb on your clit, rubbing it with slow, gentle circles, and your body tightened around him, every nerve sensitive to his touch.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, breath heavy as he pulled back just enough to thrust into you again. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “It’s... it feels so good, Matt. So full.”

His smile was soft, but his eyes were dark with want. “I can feel you squeezing me.” His lips grazed your ear. “You feel that?”

You nodded, gasping as he shifted, pushing deeper inside you, and your body responded — your clit aching, sensitive. His thumb brushed over the sensitive little nub just once, a whisper of pressure, but it made you buck against him, the sensation sharp and needy.

“God, baby,” he breathed, watching you writhe beneath him. “You’re so fucking responsive. I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

You moaned again, a soft, needy sound, feeling him shift to angle his thrusts. He leaned down, kissing your neck, his tongue trailing slowly to your collarbone. He was so gentle with you, but the way his hips moved, dragging against you, the soft press of his thumb to your clit, it was too much. Too good.

“More,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his arms. “Please, Matt.”

His thumb rubbed your clit again, slow, enough to make your stomach tighten. You gasped at the feeling, feeling everything too intensely as he kept thrusting in slow, measured motions, dragging each stroke out as though he had all the time in the world to make you feel good. But when he pulled back, just a little, you whimpered, a frown crossing your face.

“It’s... not enough,” you breathed out, biting your lip, feeling the heat build but still not quite where you wanted to be.

He tilted his head slightly, those dark eyes flicking to yours with a knowing gaze. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet authority. “I’ll make you come, baby. Just let me.”

He withdrew slightly and shifted his position again. “Let me.” He slipped his fingers down between you both, tapping a little spit onto his fingers before pressing them gently against your clit. His touch was slow, a mix of heat and slick, and it made you gasp, thighs trembling.

“You’re so wet now,” he muttered, the sound of his voice vibrating through your skin. “Feel that? That’s all you, baby. All you.”

You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets as he worked his fingers over your clit, dragging the sensation out in slow, deliberate circles, making your entire body burn with desire. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t harsh. It was just so slow, each touch intended to make you come undone.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, just the right amount of pressure to make your hips twitch toward him. Your breath hitched in your chest, and you tried to steady yourself, but the pleasure kept building, higher and higher. You couldn’t help it; your body was taking over, moving with him now, his cock filling you just right, his fingers working you into a frenzy.

“More,” you gasped. “Please, more, Matt.”

He smiled down at you, grinning just a little, but his eyes were dark with desire. “So desperate for me, huh?”

You nodded, unable to find the words. “I need you.”

“Tell me what you need.” His voice was low, almost possessive.

You gasped, struggling to speak as his pace quickened slightly, and you could feel every inch of him, dragging against you. “I, I need you to make me come,” you finally managed to say, your voice a desperate whisper. “Please.”

Matt’s eyes softened, his hand moving to grip your hip, holding you steady as he pulled all the way out. “You’re doing so fucking well for me. Gonna make you feel every inch, love the way you squirm under me.”

When he thrust back into you, the pace was deeper now, and each stroke made your body melt, every inch of you feeling like it was being stretched and filled in the most perfect way. He kept his thumb on your clit, rubbing it with enough pressure that you felt your whole body clench around him, almost involuntarily. Your moans grew louder, more frantic, but he kept the rhythm steady, just gentle enough to keep you on the edge without pushing you over.

He kissed your lips, his breath heavy against yours. “You close, baby?” His thumb pressed harder, just a little, enough to make your hips buck against his, your back arching off the bed.

“Yeah,” you gasped, eyes fluttering closed. “Please, Matt. I’m close...”

And then it hit, so fast, too much to catch your breath as your body tensed, everything tightening, the pleasure overwhelming. You cried out as your orgasm broke through you, waves of pleasure crashing over your body. His thumb never left your clit, still circling, coaxing the last bits of pleasure from you as your body quivered beneath him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with pride and affection. “You’re perfect.”

You could barely respond, your body still trembling beneath him, but he didn’t stop. He kept going, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hand never leaving your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles to keep you riding the high.

“You’re so wet now,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Such a good girl for me. Just let go, baby.”

You moaned, not even sure if you could hold onto anything, just letting him take over, his cock moving in and out of you, his thumb never stopping its pressure. Everything felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

Finally, when your body couldn’t take anymore, Matt slowed his thrusts, his movements tender now, each one slow and deep, helping you come down from the high. You could feel him there, inside you, still hard but gentle, holding you through it all.

He kissed you, softly, slowly, his forehead resting against yours. “You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah… yeah, that was…”

“Good,” he finished for you, his smile warm and affectionate. “You’re perfect.”

You felt a gentle rush of warmth in your chest, letting the safe, caring feeling of the moment wash over you.

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers ꨄ

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this sdbdjbsj i hope u all enjoy

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Waiting||Remmick x fem!reader

Summary — y/n is drawn to Remmick but she can’t explain why.

Word count—792

A/n — oh I’m so down bad for Remmick 🙂‍↕️

A/n — part two or no?

You see him again tonight.

At the edge of the woods. Right where the tree line breaks into shadow. He doesn’t move. He never does. Just stands there still and waiting like he’s carved from the night itself.

You should close the curtains. You should turn off the porch light and pretend you don’t see him.

But you don’t. You never do.

Because deep down, some twisted part of you wants to see him. To feel the weight of his stare. To hear that low, gravel-soft whisper that slips into your mind when the lights flicker and your breath catches like you’ve forgotten how to be alone.

“Come outside.”

The first time you heard it, you thought it was a dream. The second time, you locked every door and window and huddled beneath your blankets, sweating waiting him out.

Now… It's almost comforting. Like a lullaby.

You don’t know his name. You’ve never seen his face properly. Just a silhouette, broad-shouldered and long-limbed, with that stillness that’s more animal than man. His voice doesn’t come from the woods. It comes from inside you. Curling around your thoughts like smoke.

“Come outside.”

Tonight, you do.

Barefoot, barely dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, you step off your porch into the damp grass. The air is thick. Electric. Like something in the earth is holding its breath.

He doesn’t move. But you know he sees you.

Your heart races. Your body hums. You should be scared. But you’re not. You’re burning.

“Good girl,” his voice murmurs—and it’s not in your head anymore. It’s behind you. Hot against your neck. You spin around—And he’s there.

Close. Too close.

Remmick.

His eyes glow faintly in the dark, catching yours with a predator’s focus. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl. And God, he’s beautiful in that ruined, wrong kind of way. Like something feral wrapped in skin. Like a sin carved from temptation.

“You finally listened,” he murmurs, fingers brushing your arm. “Took you long enough.”

“You’ve been” Your voice breaks. You don’t even know what you’re saying.

“Waiting? Watching?” He tilts his head, eyes trailing down your body. “Wanting?”

His hand slips under the hem of your shirt, rough palm ghosting up your thigh.

“You saw me,” he says. “You felt me. Every night. You wanted this.”

You should pull away. You should scream.

Instead, you lean in. You kiss him first.

It’s messy. Desperate. His mouth opens against yours, tongue sweeping in like he’s starved. His hands grip your waist, lift you like nothing, and pin you against the porch’s support beam. The wood bites into your back, but you don’t care. His mouth is at your throat now, teeth grazing skin, breath hot.

“You smell like dreams,” he growls, licking up the column of your neck. “Like fear and longing and need.”

Your shirt’s yanked up, and suddenly you’re bare to the night. He palms your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until you gasp.

“You want me to take you right here?” he breathes. “Where I’ve been watching you? Where you kept teasing me with little dresses and sleepy sighs?”

You nod, too breathless to speak.

He drops to his knees. His mouth finds your thighs, your inner seam, the heat between your legs. One long, slow lick makes you tremble. His fingers dig in, holding you open, tongue working you like worship. Like vengeance.

You come hard, body shuddering against the wood, fingers tangled in his hair.

But he’s not done.

He rises, unzips his jeans, pulls himself free, and fuck, he’s thick, already slick with need. He strokes once, twice, then presses into you in one deep thrust.

You moan loud, and shameless as he starts to move, slow and deliberately. Every stroke hits deep, dragging against that sweet spot that makes your vision go white. His hand wraps around your throat, not tight, just grounding.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

You hesitate only for a second.

“I’m yours.”

He growls, low and feral, and slams into you harder. Your legs wrap around him. You bite into his shoulder. You both come undone like that loud, messy, raw.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone.

The woods are quiet.

But you know he’s still out there.

Waiting.

And tomorrow night you’ll go outside again.

[xislyns]

may I please request a Luffy x fem reader where they encounter an enemy who’s devil fruit makes people reveal the truth which ends up with Luffy confessing his feelings for the reader and leaves him all embarrassed and the rest of the crew in shock. maybe he even says something along the lines of “I think y/n looks cute when she’s wearing my straw hat” idk, I just had this thought I hope it makes sense cause I feel like it would be super adorable! thank you!!

AWW WAIT I SEE THE VISION thats so fucking cute , 😭😭

𐙚Luffy's confession..

characters : Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

summary : The strawhats were met with an Enemy who has came onboard on the sunny, wielding the truth-truth fruit, the fruit that causes the victim to speak out the secrets hidden in the depths of their heart.

── .✦ The Thousand Sunny was alive with its usual chaos, Zoro was napping in the sun, Sanji was cooking up something delicious in the kitchen, and Nami was scolding Usopp for his latest invention that had somehow messed with her map collection. You were perched near the bow of the ship, enjoying the breeze and smell of the ocean waters. Luffy, as always, was sitting high on the mast, grinning like the dork he was, with his iconic straw hat sitting nicely on his head.

but the environment suddenly turned gloomy, The sea turned eerily calm, a dark figure had emerged from the mist. the same figure who is the cause of the sudden change, stood on a small boat, his strange appearance made even more unsettling by his wild grin.

“I am Verità, The wielder of the Truth Truth Fruit,” the man announced, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Anyone within my aura cannot tell a lie. Beware, Straw Hat Pirates, for your secrets will betray you!"

“Oh, great,” Usopp groaned. “Another weird Devil Fruit guy.”

Before anyone could act, Verità raised his hand, and a shimmering wave of energy washed over the ship. It was subtle at first, but then you felt a strange feeling in your stomach.

“I’ve always hated Sanji’s soufflés,” Zoro blurted out, his eyes wide in horror in his own words.

Sanji dropped his spatula. “WHAT?!”

“I think Chopper’s transformation is creepy ” Nami yelped, clapping a hand over her mouth too late.

The chaos spread quickly, and you tried your best to stay quiet, but your gaze was drawn to Luffy. He stood frozen, looking unusually serious for once. You could see redness creeping up his neck and ears. Then, in a voice uncharacteristically soft and hesitant, he said:

“I think Y/N looks really cute when she’s wearing my straw hat.”

The chaos seemed to stop. almost tso silent that you can hear the dropping of a needle. Every eye on the Sunny locked on to Luffy, who now looked like he wanted to disappear forever.

“WHAT?!” you and the crew exclaimed in unison.

Luffy yanked his hat down over his face, his voice muffled as he continued to speak, completely unable to stop himself. “And… I like her smiles. And I think about holding her hand a lot. And I want her to stay by my side forever because I… I love her.”

The silence was deafening. Luffy’s words hung in the air, leaving everyone in stunned disbelief. Sanji’s cigarette fell from his lips. Usopps eyes looked like they were going to bust from their sockets. Even Zoro’s usual stoic demeanor cracked with raised eyebrows.

You, on the other hand, felt your face heat up as you stared on at Luffy. He peeked out from under his hat, his cheeks bright red. “Uh.. I didn’t really mean to say all that. but, I mean, I did, but-”

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, you stepped forward, your heart pounding. Reaching outto him, and took his hand. “Luffy… I think you’re cute too,” you said softly, smiling at him.

His eyes widened, and then his signature grin broke out across his face, despite the embarrassment. “Really?!”

“Really,” you replied. And, without thinking, luffy picked up his straw hat and placed it on your head while his smile got bigger and his head tilted slightly

The crew erupted into laughter, and teasing. Sanji dramatically declared he was robbed, while Robin and Franky exchanged knowing smiles . Luffy just stood there, his grin stretching wider than ever as he took your hand and held it tight.

Verità watched the scene with an amused smirk, his presence seemingly forgotten in the midst of Luffy’s unexpected confession. He cleared his throat dramatically, pulling attention back to himself.

“Touching , But don’t think this little love story will be able to save you "

“Ugh, can’t we have one peaceful moment?” Nami groaned,rolling her eyes.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Zoro replied, cracking his knuckles and stepping forward, his normal stoic look returning to his face.

As the crew fought , the two of you couldnt help but stay side by side, Luffy’s hat resting comfortably on your head while you fought.

even though this wasnt how he thought it would happen, He cant lie it certainly was easier!

[sourdeers]

☰ ❝A MOMENT’S HESITATION❞

— content warning: part one here. confessions! deaf! katsuki. hearing aid malfunctions. reading lips. reader cries. profanity. kissing. soft! katsuki. arguing. — word count ﹕ 1,408

a week passes and things have been . . well, to put it lightly, awkward. katsuki’s texts are dry, he makes himself scarce in your presence, and when he actually talks to you, he sounds almost strained. you’re not sure whether or not he still wants you to attend the dinner party. when you text him about it, he sends a quick,

03:43 [ kats ] : yeah

it’s almost nerve wracking knocking on his door later that evening. the party starts at seven, but you show up at five. partly to give yourself time to get ready, and partly because you want to know what the hell is going on with katsuki.

“hey,” he greets curtly, nodding once. he looks past you, like he can’t meet your eyes. “you’re early.”

you blink at him. once, twice, before taking a deep breath. “i showed up early last time, too. i came to hang out with you, update you on my life. you know, since you haven’t bothered to check up lately.” you know it’s a little bitchy, but he deserves it right? he’s all but ignored you this past week.

he winces at your words and you feel a little bad. “yeah, i’ve been, uh, busy.” there’s a pause, then he steps to the side. “hungry? my mom made a cheese board thing, so there’s shit left over.”

you shift your bag on your shoulder—the one that contains your dress, makeup, and other various items you might need tonight—and shake your head. “not hungry.”

“cool.” you walk inside, brushing his shoulder as you do so.

this is so weird. you feel like a first year again, treading lightly around the angry blonde who wasn’t there to make friends. except this time, he’s not angry, just uncharacteristically quiet. without his guidance, you make your way to his room, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

he follows, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat at his desk. your eyes drift from him to the vivarium sitting on said desk, where his snake is perched in a log. you get distracted for a moment, staring into the seemingly mesmerizing eyes of viper. a cliche name, you think, but katsuki got the snake when he was a wannabe badass twelve-year-old, so you can’t really judge it.

katsuki clears his throat and you snap your head over to him, meeting his carmine eyes. “did you pass the test?”

“test?” you repeat, brows meeting in the middle.

“the one in mic’s? i helped you study for it?”

“oh, right.” you nod a couple times. “yeah, i passed it. it was actually easier than i thought it was going to be, i don’t know.”

he smiles, weak and not full of pride like you’re used to. “probably ‘cause i helped you, huh?”

you nod again, tight-lipped. an awkward silence settles over you, reminding you of silence from last week, when he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“okay,” you say frustratedly, throwing your hands up. “what’s your deal, katsuki? you’ve been acting really weird for the past week and it’s really confusing. did i, like, do something wrong? because you’re normal with kiri and mina, but when it comes to me you’re . . . standoffish?”

he stares at you like a deer stuck in headlights, unblinking, unmoving. he stays like that for a long, drawn-out moment. it feels like years, but can’t be more than a few seconds. “you didn’t do anything,” he mumbles finally.

“cool, so you’re just acting like an ass for no reason?”

“i’m not acting like an ass!” he exclaims, fists clenching where they rest on his thighs. “i’m-“ he cuts himself off, sighing, and stands up, chair rolling behind him. “i’m not acting like an ass, i’ve just been . . .”

“busy,” you finish for him, a dejected tone to your voice. “right. too busy to text me, too busy to not walk away everytime i enter a room, too busy to talk to me like a normal fucking person. right, no, yeah. that makes total sense.” you roll your eyes and stand as well, fixing your bag as you sigh. “listen, if you didn’t want me to come tonight, you should have said so. i have schoolwork to do anyway.”

you make a move for the door, but he sidesteps, now planted in front of you. his eyes bore into yours, face flushed, jaw set. to an outside party, he’d seem pissed. to you, however, this is pure frustration.

“katsuki, move.”

“no.”

“jesus christ!” you say in an incredulous laugh, letting your bag fall to the ground as your arms go limp. you spin on your heel and press your palms to your eyes. “you won’t talk to me, and you won’t let me leave.” you turn back to him and glare. “what do you want from me, katsuki? you can’t keep acting like this and expect me to go along with it?”

without a moment's hesitation from him, he surges forward, cupping your face, and plants his lips on yours.

you’re frozen in your spot, eyes wide, nervous system going haywire. you’re unsure of what to do. is this why he’s been acting so weird all week? because he likes you?

as soon as your mind catches up with reality, and you let your eyes fall shut, he makes a grunting sound and pulls away, not meeting your eyes. he brings a hand up to his ear and snaps a couple times, brows furrowing in frustration.

“what the fuck?” he mumbles to himself, pulling his hearing aid off and turning it over to look at the battery. you can vaguely see a green light flashing and realize his hearing aids have died.

just your luck. of course his hearing aids would die in the middle of the most telling moment of your guys’ relationship. and of course your sign language is still shitty. and of course you would start to cry, because why wouldn’t you?

he must sense a disturbance in the air because he looks up at you, eyes softening as he clocks the tears welling up in your eyes. “i’m sorry,” he says quietly. you can’t tell if it’s because he’s scared of being too loud or if it’s because he’s trying to be soft, but it makes you cry even harder.

“you kissed me,” you whisper, running a hand down your face. his brows furrow in confusion, gaze dropping to your mouth. “you kissed me,” you repeat, this time trying to make it more intelligible.

“stupid fucking hearing aids,” he curse, more to himself than to you. he scowls, then looks at you and sighs. “i’m not good with words. i was hoping that, uh, kissing you would explain it for me. did it?”

you let out a small, wet laugh and shake your head. “does this mean you like me too?”

“wait, go slower.”

katsuki fully lost his hearing in second year, meaning he can still say words properly without his hearing aids, but has trouble reading lips. he’s improved a lot since then, but it’s still shoddy.

you chew the inside of your cheek. “do you like me?” you repeat, this time slower, more articulate.

hesitantly, he nods. “that’s why i’ve been acting like a douche. because i didn’t . . .” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “i didn’t think you liked me back. and i was trying to distance myself. you- you do like me, right?”

a grin splits across your face, and you take his face in your hands. you lean forward, stopping just before his lips, and whisper, “i think i might love you, katsuki bakugou.” you close the distance between you too.

his hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your hands slide around his neck. for a moment, you get lost in him. in the way his lips slot against yours like they were made for each other, in the sounds he doesn’t know he’s making, in the way his fingers dig into your skin. you could stay like this forever, you think.

eventually, you have to breathe, so you pull away, resting your forehead on his. there’s a seemingly permanent smile placed on your face. his chest heaves and he returns the smile, quickly picking your lips once again.

“you know i have no idea what you said to me before that, right?” he asks softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and your mouth.

you just laugh.

[defmaybe]

last night's mascara

12 Days of Christmas: Day 11, January 4th, 2025

Dreamcatcher’s Lee Gahyun x Male Reader

3.1k words

Christmas Masterlist

What a boring ass party.

It’s the thought that has been lingering inside your head for the last two hours. The decorations? Daft. The song choice? Lame. The conversations? Rote. So, there you are, one hand on your phone, the other fiddling with your fingers restlessly. Should’ve bought Balatro when it was on sale.

You scroll your Twitter feed aimlessly, pressing likes on the fan sites’ pictures of your favorite groups—fromis_9, Red Velvet, (G)I-DLE. It’s the only way to escape this party without raising much suspicion.

Well, not until Gahyun notices you standing in the corner of your eyes.

“Not enjoying it?”

You almost drop your phone on the ground, good thing you can balance it with your hands.

“Shit, y–yeah,” you reply.

Gahyun giggles softly, covering her mouth with the glass of champagne in her hand. She’s in her red and white Christmas dress, one that shows off a lot—her shoulders, her legs, her ample cleavage. Fuck, she looks so tantalizing.

“So,” she says. She’s pulling you into a conversation. Abort. Abort. Abort!

“How was your day?” she asks, “Wait, oh my god, that was a terrible question. I’m sorry if it’s too plain for you.”

It’s over for you.

“No, no, it was–great. I’m fine,” you reply. “How are you?”

Gahyun chuckles. “A bit drunk, but still standing!” she says with a bright smile, twisting her foot coyly. God, she looks gorgeous.

You only shoot a smile back at her. You don’t know what more to say. It’s difficult for you to continue the conversation like this. You can’t do this.

“Hey,” she continues. You’re finished. “I can keep you company here if you want.”

She’s kind, but you’ll have to say no. You aren’t good enough to hold her right here. You don’t have anything to talk about!

“Ah, I–I appreciate that, but I don’t think you’d enjoy my company,” you decline, taking a sip of the champagne in your hand.

She giggles, and you fall victim to your own self-deprecation once again. You just can’t stop pushing people out, can you?

Fuck.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, come on!” she encourages. You’re taken aback by her enthusiasm to be with you. Is she really enjoying your company? Is it a dare? Is she just toying with you for her own entertainment?

“O–Okay, Gahyun,” you stammer.

The conversation begins at the expense of your solitude. It’s seemingly unending. You’re involuntarily dragged into an exchange with the talkative Lee Gahyun. However, you’re slowly dragged into her charismatic presence. You’re somehow not stuttering anymore? Goodness gracious! She’s a good talker. She’s a good listener. She’s genuinely comforting to be around.

“So–speaking of music, have you been listening to anyone recently? Well, outside of k-pop, it’ll be too boring,” Gahyun asks.

You contemplate a bit before you answer, “Well, I’ve been listening to Gracie Abrams a lot lately. Do you know her?”

“Gracie Abrams–hmm–is she the one who opened for Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah!” you happily answer. She’s really full of knowledge. “I started listening to her a few years ago. Quality can be choppy sometimes, but I still like her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” she says with a giggle. “That’s why you’re drawn to her.”

You can only chuckle at her warm words. God, she really knows how to reel you in. 

“What about you? Who have you been listening to?” you ask her the same question back. Normally, you’d be beating yourself up for not changing the question, but with Gahyun, it feels like you don’t have to worry about anything.

Gahyun laughs, cutely covering her mouth while doing so. “Well, mostly Billie Eilish, her new album. Have you heard it yet?”

“Oh, yeah! I love Birds of a Feather a lot. Wait, let me guess yours–uh–” you pause, trying to guess her favorite from the album.

Gahyun adoringly smiles, waiting for your guess. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the light, but, fuck, are you having a crush on her?

“Chihiro?”

“Aww~ that’s close! It’s actually my second favorite,” Gahyun says, pouting cutely. You can only awkwardly giggle along to cover the embarrassment from the mistake.

“I actually love Lunch the most, to be honest,” she says. “Makes me click my heels, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean–I also like Lunch, but–uh–it’s just not as sad as Birds of a Feather.”

“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s definitely interesting!” Gahyun says. “So, you like sad songs? Do you like–uh–have any to recommend to me?”

You give her a few songs. She nods in acknowledgement. The exchange continues into the night. It flows so lively that you get lost in her charm, over and over again. You find out about her dog at home—Bae. You find out that she loves pineapples on pizzas. You find out that her favorite TV show is Goblin (yes, that Goblin).

As it goes on, you can’t help but steal glances at her body, even if you know how inappropriate that is. You’ll use the opportunity when she looks away to take in the view of her ample cleavage or her meaty thighs. She looks so good, so deli–

“Hey,” she derails your train of thoughts. “Did you just–stare at my tits?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long. Your hands tremble in fear of getting called out. You should say sorry, now!

“F–Fuck, I–I’m so s–sorry, Gah–”

“Zip it,” she cuts you off, putting her index finger on your lips. “I don’t want excuses.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. You’re being mentally cornered by Lee Gahyun, the company darling. God, you’re beyond fucked. Your whole life is being undone because of a slip. Fuck.

Then, she whispers into your ear.

“Meet me at the women’s bathroom in five minutes.”

You nod with your eyes closed slowly, before she departs from you, giving you the view of her hips swaying before disappearing into the crowd.

—

The women’s bathroom smells of air purifier, it’s taken care of well. It’s brightly lit. You find Gahyun standing in the middle of the room—arms crossed, tapping her foot. She’s waiting for you.

“Come here, lock the door,” she orders, gesturing you to her. Her voice is much, much more stern than in the ballroom, but there’s also–something else. Is she mad at you, or is it something else?

The door clicks shut, leaving the bathroom only for you two. You slowly walk towards Gahyun, who’s looking at you expectantly.

The air thickens with anticipation. The silence is heavy. You’re stuck in the bathroom with Lee Gahyun. She doesn’t seem too pleased with your presence here, but why would she be calling you here, then?

“So,” she starts. You close your eyes shut in fear. “Anything to say before we start?”

You shake your head vigorously, hoping that the admission would lessen the punishment directed at you.

You hear a wicked laugh, as she starts to circle around you. Your body trembles in fear. Fuck, what is she going to do with you. Is she going to beat you up? Is she going to berate you?

“Are you sure that you’ve locked the door?” she asks from behind you. You can feel her breath on your neck. It’s terrifying.

“Y–Yes, Gahyun,” you stammer out.

“Good. Now, take off your pants,” she orders sternly. Wait, this isn’t going where you’ve expected.

“Wait, do you want me to–”

“Take off your pants, yes,” she finishes your sentence without any hesitation. Determination shines in her eyes.

“O–Okay?” you utter, before reluctantly unbuckling your belt. It’s so hard to come off when your hands are literally shaking like this. Your breathing becomes erratic with each second that passes by.

“Faster,” she sternly commands into your ear. Her warm breath touches your skin, eliciting goosebumps everywhere. Your hands quickly take off your trousers as she orders, leaving your lower body in your boxers. The outline of your erection becomes visible under them.

“Good,” she says, the warmth of your hand emanating into your firm ass. “Now, if you’d show me what you’ve been hiding under this–garment.

You immediately comply with her order, sliding down your tight boxers in a hasty motion. Your hard cock springs free from its confinement. It twitches in the anticipation of what’s to come. Gahyun presses into your body from the back, making your ass touch her warm crotch. Her perfume pervades your nostrils, making your legs wobble like jelly.

“Hmm, excited, aren’t we?” she coos. Her right hand reaches from the back to tease you. She leaves just a little space between her hand and your cock. You wish you could just grab her hand and make her touch your hardness right now, but that’s not how you play this game. You can only wonder how Gahyun can hide this side for so long—the side that dominates the shit out of you.

“Do you want me to touch it? Say it.” Her hot breath brushes against your ear, teasing you, pushing you towards the limit.

“Y–Yes, I want you to touch it, Gahyun,” you utter, mind going all haywire from the sheer intensity of her body warmth against your back.

You hear Gahyun giggle mischievously from the back, before her hand latches onto your cock firmly, making you groan in sheer ecstasy.

Slowly, she begins her dirty display on your cock. She lazily drags her hand up along your length, eliciting a shudder from you. When she’s at the top, she makes sure to take a swipe on the tip to make you moan. Your brain is now filled with nothing but her otherworldly handjob she’s giving. She feels so good.

You moan and whimper in her tight restraint, naked from below the waist. Her hands are slowly jerking you off with an unmatched mastery. Her smell is intense—her perfume, and something that’s explicitly her.

She slowly finds her rhythm, knowing when to pump, knowing when to swipe. She goes faster, eliciting guttural groans and whimpers out of you. 

Your cock is being fondled by the company darling, and that thought alone sends you into rapture. She’s the same woman you see every day. She’s the same woman you’ve talked to. She’s the same woman who everyone loves. Now, she’s jerking you off in the women’s bathroom, making you moan and whimper.

Maybe it’s the sheer intensity of the situation, you can feel your loins tightening. Your body becomes rigid. Your breathing becomes erratic. You’re going to cum in Lee Gahyun’s hand!

“You know, I’ve been told a lot that I have nice lips,” she says. Her hands remain a little too eager to finish you off. It’s becoming too irresistible to cum right now. You can feel the tension rising within your loins. You do want more than her hand, indeed. That pair of lips are a little too tantalizing for you to not be on your cock—so plump, so pouty.

“F–Fuck, Gahyun, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. Time is running low, and you have to make her stop before you blow a load all over the bathroom floor and get short-circuited for the rest of the night.

Gahyun lets out another wicked giggle. “Say please, then.” She’s not going to stop so easily, not before you profusely beg her to.

“Nghhn~ p–please, Gahyun,” you plead, voice already shaking in the intense sensation.

“Again, and I’ll lift my hand off,” she teases, jerking you off even faster. Your mind is all hazy from the sheer pleasure you’re getting from her hand. Your blinking becomes rapid. Your vision becomes blurry.

“Nghh~ please, G–Gahyun.”

Gahyun suddenly removes her hand from your cock, leaving it twitching in the air. You sigh, as the tension slowly drops back to normal. You’re happy not to cum before you get to take on her mouth.

“Close one,” she says, letting go of you from her warm embrace. You feel like you can fully breathe for the first time in years. She was suffocating, but you won’t deny the pleasure she gave you, of course.

Gahyun slowly walks back to your front, putting the highlight of her next act for you to see—her lips, those dick-sucking lips. You and the guys have talked about this behind her back (well, behind everyone’s back) about how good her lips would feel on your cocks, head bobbing up and down in a hypnotic motion, bringing intense pleasure to whoever gets their dick sucked. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Gahyun kneels, not without seductively swaying her wide hips as she goes down. Your cock twitches at the sight violently, so ready to be taken into her mouth.

“Say please, just like when I jerked you off,” she commands. She seems to know when to raise her voice and when to not.

“Please, Gahyun,” you utter, your voice all dry from the moaning and the internally burning desire.

The first contact is nothing short of divine. Gahyun starts slow. She starts by taking in just the mushroom tip into her mouth. She feels so warm, so tight, so right. Gahyun gives the underside of your cock a playful lick, making your body jolt in response.

She then begins her show, pushing herself further on your cock. It’s a lewd sight, really—the direct eye contact, the sound she’s making (it’s kind of a low, satisfied hum), the way she fondles your balls with her fingers. Pleasure just shoots through your body like a bullet. Without any restraints, you could just cum into her mouth right here and now. She pushes further and further, making you groan in pure bliss, until she starts to gag.

“Y–You don’t have to take it all, G–Gahyun.”

She says nothing, instead diving deeper onto your cock, all while using her tongue to play with the underside of your length. No woman has ever given you a blowjob as good as this—the deliberate movement, the will to gag, the pouty lips. Gahyun really has it all.

She keeps the eye contact intact, a reminder of her control. The gagging sounds she’s making don’t hinder her dominance by a little bit. She lets you know who’s in control here. It’s her and only her.

She finally pushes herself up to the hilt of your cock. She gags. She chokes. She sputters. Globs of spit leaks out of her mouth. Your head falls backwards from the pleasure. Her eyes are barely opening from the sheer size of your cock. You love this. You love the sounds she’s making. You love how she dominates the shit out of you. You love that she’s willing to suck you off like this (even if she’s the one in full control).

She stays there, gagging, choking, sputtering on your cock. She’s taking in the pungent scent of you, judging by the way she takes a deep breath through her nose. Her lips look so good on your cock like this. The base of your length becomes saturated by her red lipstick and spit. Streaks of black mascara run down her cheeks. You’re revelling in it. You’re revelling in the sight.

“G–God, G–Gahyun,” you utter.

With that, she slowly pulls back from your cock, leaving a trail of her rosy lipstick on it. Her eyes are fluttering violently with the thickness and length of you. She can barely breathe, and you’re loving it.

Instinctively, your right hand goes to the back of her head, tugging her hair to pull her out of the predicament called your cock. She gets to breathe again, and she quickly dislodges herself off you.

“Ah, y–you taste good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath. The marks from the earlier act are evident.

You say nothing, letting Gahyun catch her breath again, waiting for the time she can take in your cock once more. She breathes in, she breathes out, and finally, she’s ready again.

“I’m not holding back this time, alright?” she says, determination sparks inside her eyes.

“S–Sure.”

She grabs onto your cock with her right hand, pulling you close, before she takes your cock into her mouth. This time, it’s more violent, more fervent. She catches her rhythm and doesn’t look back. She starts to bob her head back and forth on your cock, and doesn’t that make you whimper like a bitch?

“Nghhh~ s–so good,” you mewl.

Gahyun only replies with a giggle on your cock. Her grip is still firm. Her free hand fondles your balls gently, trying to coax cum out of you.

She catches her rhythm, moving her head in a hypnotic motion. She really wants you to cum under her influence like this. You hear her gag. You hear her choke. You hear her sputter.

The tension in your loins starts to rise again. You’re on the verge of cumming with the help of the earlier handjob, and she doesn’t seem to stop at all. That’s it. You’re unloading your cum inside of Lee Gahyun’s mouth, making her taste your white essence.

“G–Gonna cum,” you utter.

Gahyun responds by going as rapidly as she can on your throbbing cock. The sensation is electric. It shoots through you like a bullet. The knot tightens, and you can do nothing to stop it.

With the final stroke, you unload your pent-up lust into Lee Gahyun’s throat, making her taste your essence. Your body jerks forward in pure pleasure. You let out a low, guttural groan at your precipice, unable to make sense of the situation. She lets out a satisfied hum as she feels your white, hot cum hit the back of her throat. You’re probably salty, like the other women have said.

You slowly come down from your peak, finally catching your rhythm again. Your cock’s spurts turn into soft drizzles off the slit. Gahyun pulls off of your cock with a loud pop. What an obscene sight. Her face is a fucking mess—mascara, lipstick, it’s all wrong. You’re still too dazed to say a thing, though.

“You taste good,” she says, opening her mouth, sticking her tongue out lewdly to show the emptiness of her wet cavern. She drank it all.

“I–I wanna do this again,” you involuntarily utter from the depths of your heart. “I want you to suck my cock again.”

Maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of your words. Maybe it’s the wake of your climax. She bursts out a laugh, a genuine one. You watch her laugh awkwardly.

“Ask me–ha–properly,” she says. “Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Will you, Lee Gahyun–”

“Suck–”

“Suck my cock again?”

She lets out a chuckle, before answering, “Definitely, maybe.”

—