#I'm thinking about him though kinda. not really though. just feeling

[hivemuthur]

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice heavier now when he sighs. “I know.” He pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted with bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. The wrinkles carving his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, he press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides up.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh��Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

[azurem]

What is your thoughts on a headcanon that Ink’s extremely deep blush is brown? Whilst i am at it, what would Nightmare think upon seeing it? 👀

(because that is the colour you commonly get from mixing the colour of the rainbow that is his usual blush.)

It's a nice headcanon! Though I'm half sure it'd be against canon (au where everything's the same but ink blushes brown if super flustered??) since Ink's super deep blush instead implies his rainbow freckles appearing!! Silly thing i love him. Brown blush would look very cute on him though, he'd look so monochrome/aff

— also I believe Ink's rainbow theme is very. Prism based, from what I've seen? A ray of white light passing through a prism disperses into 7 rays of color and all that. If the experiment is done in like, the. Inverse? Way? The rainbow turns into white. So in theory I believe it'd make more sense if Ink's super blush was white instead. Though I assume Ink's magic doesn't overlap, there's a reason why his tongue and blush is sectioned. Maybe different creators' emotions cannot be mixed??? Evil stuff—

Nightmare would like it way too much I think; both because Ink just never gets flustered enough to really see him that affected (he really likes to see proof that his efforts are doing something) and because he'd feel smug at the knowledge that he finally has the upper hand for once. This being said, the first time he' see it he'd probably tease Ink about it so much Ink just gets away from him by AU jumping because they'd get salty. A proper response, of course (he needs to learn limits!)

Second time is better. But his smile is still very much smug so Ink still gets salty. By the third time Ink would stop running away and let his destiny finally happen (unskippable romance scene)

Tbh I just think Ink is very skittish once he gets embarrassed enough, specially since shame isn't a very common thing for him to feel. He'd have no resistance to the emotion at all, so he'd be so obviously embarrassed you couldn't miss it. I imagine you could force embarrassment from him by having him drink too much from the purple (my hc color for his fear/shame) but it'd be just so mixed with fear it wouldn't be enjoyable for anyone involved ngl.

I also imagine Ink with like, a light level of embarrassment? Would play along if they're making fun of him. He fakes getting more embarrassed if they're poking fun at him, but he gets more snappy if he actually does (if he has available red, of course)

Anyways. I think the first time™ went kinda like this?? Maybe??? I can't get Ink's voice right but assume it's the purple talking

"...Oh? I've never seen this color here before."

"Well— Well! Maybe you missed it? Don't be silly. You— stop laughing! Why are you laughing?"

"It's cute."

"You're so— Get back in character already! C'mon, we were just— that's it! I'm going to... to. To—"

"Is it a whine I'm hearing?"

"It's not! No!"

"Is it not? I'm sure I couldn't have mistaken such a charming sound."

"Kay! Kay. So this is how it is! You think this whole thing is funny! That's what it is!"

"Oh, no. Though I won't say I'm not enjoying myself."

"...! ...!!!!!!! ...!!!!!!!"

"Ah. It's darker now."

(Ink proceeds to go fetch Broomie while Nightmare follows him closely like a hyena following sick prey No I don't have More comparisons)

"...And what are you doing now?— oh."

[zepskies]

Omg first of all, thanks so much for shouting out As Tradition Dictates, my lovely!! I have more Eomer coming in the near future. 😘

But first *rubs hands together* time to dig into this delectable love triangle...

Dear LORD you didn't have to do me like this from the onset with that opening scene of Butcher. 🥵

No man his age should look that good. 

Correct. 👆🏽 Why is it that rugged men in their 40s attract me more than men my own age. 🫠🫠

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

lmfao Eomer, is that you? ("romantasy" ftw! 😏❤️‍🔥)

The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

lol this is one of my favorite aspects of reading/writing in The Boys fandom - everyone's creativity on creating our own fictional supes that cause mayhem for the boys. 😆😆 (Not "a reenactment of the eighth plague" 💀💀💀)

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Can always trust you to give beautiful descriptions of flora and fauna. 🪴💚

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

Sigh. I can deeply relate to that first part, as you know lol.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

Girl stop torturing me lmfao. (But actually don't stop though) "Big hands" indeed. 🥵

Ben saw straight through her though and I'm living for their dynamic! lol

“He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

Oh how magnanimous of him. 🙄 Like yes, let's all jump (literally) on that opportunity to debase ourselves for his entertainment.

...But of course, there's also that whole ridiculously attractive factor that makes Ben difficult to resist, even though he's a complete asshole loll.

You’d tried the usual things… Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation. Gone completely mute when he asked you a question. Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room. Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

OMFg. That last one is so real! 🤣🤣🤣 I feel for her for real. I wonder how Ben's actually going to help her self-confidence. 💗

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-” Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Awww this melted me so much! She's not in love with him yet, but I think he's gonna bring it out of her on accident with stuff like this loll. Also big surprise on how he said she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. 💚💚 I half-expected him to suggest exactly what she could do for him if she was so inclined. 😆

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”  What have I gotten myself into?

Oh my God, YESSS. She's in so deep already and I can only imagine where you'll take this next if you choose! I can say for sure that I'd love to see how this little scheme unfolds lol.

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

[writingwisterias]

Hey hey!!!

Not sure if you remember me but I'm the same anon from a whileeeee back who asked about eras Leon with a drunk gf on nights out! I loved it sm and I have been thinking if you had a take on eras Leon when gf gets weepy after a while of being drunk? Kinda like being super happy and fun to just crashing and crying and muttering stuff that doesn't make sense and feeling upset abt feeling upset if that makes sense? Idk, world's your oyster, go nuts.

(I know how this looks I swear I'm not an alcoholic I just like angst and comfort, I swear this is toooootally not self indulgent 😭😭)

Love your works your writing is so good!!

OMGG 🪡 My love I've finally gotten to it!!! I hope you enjoy it! I'm so happy you became one of my regulars omggg

Warnings: Drinking, Drunk!reader, Fluff, Comfort Fem!Reader

RE2:

It was a mistake to even drink whilst you were sad

Life had just hit a stand still, you were progressing in age but never felt like you did anything

When you called Leon to come and pick you up he wasn't expecting you to A) be at a bar and B) be that wasted

It was funny at first, seeing you stumble along side him but then he saw your face.

A cute little pout but your eyes held all the emotions. Only slightly hidden by the drunken haze

All he did was ask if you were okay and it all came spewing out

The shift in the attitude caught him off guard but then after a big hug and promise of cuddles at home you quietened down

Your silence is unnerving to him and he wants you to say something anything

It's not until you get home and he shuts the door that it spills out. He comforts you and doesn't judge, admitting that he sort of feels the same way.

He will get comfy at his place making sure you relax

He won't mention it in the morning unless you do. He'll go off based on your moods, focusing more on the hangover side of things.

RE4R:

He was away for a while and no one was telling you anything. In frustration you went for the bottle.

In your drunken state you forgot about him arriving back tonight so when he arrives he does not expect to be dealing with a drunk you

It seemed fine at first, besides the smell on your breath and the drunken slurred words you seemed happy

Unless you saw the scraps and bruises along his skin, that's when you remembered why you drank

It takes him a few hours for you to calm down and reassure you that he's perfectly fine

He'll skip out the bit where he got infected for now

Infact he finds the whole thing sweet in a weird way that you were worried that much

He will prompt you to find more suitable coping mechanisms when he is gone though (like he's one to talk)

Infinite Darkness:

He never really thought he would go to these types of galas etc

But at least he managed to convince you to be a plus one. After all the events was to celebrate the success in panamstan

You felt fine until the insecurities began to filter in, Leon's Co workers getting under your skin with their jealous

He should have noticed it faster but when he returned with the next round of drinks you looked at him with the pout that broke his heart

Your words slurred a little bit, perhaps your mood was effected slightly more with this

Thankfully he took it as a ticket to get out of here, guiding you to the car and taking you home

The entire way you put yourself down, hair all messy and touch ups you did to yourself was now running down your face

So he took care of you, helped you into his favorite shirt. Spraying some cologne in the neckline.

He washed your face, brushed your hair

He treated you like a doll, his perfect partner

Damnation:

You chose to come over and drink with him not realizing he needed the stronger stuff

It started with some movies and just general laughing both you and the drink keeping away any of his thoughts

But you could see the sad look on his face when the laughter stopped

And if he was sad you were going to be as well

Leon faltered when he saw you cry at first not really sure what caused it. I can imagine him looking back and forth at the tv like what?

When you spill what's been eating at you he freezes. Like you actually care that much about him?

His care is silent, most of his emotions are in the way he then holds you gently to soothe the tears. Whispers to reassure you that he is okay

You don't know that he's also crying, just a small tear nothing major

He makes sure that you are okay, stopping the drinking for tonight

RE6:

After having to relive his trauma in China he's very much excited to come home. Except he forgot one tiny detail...he faked his death

Of course you would have been greeted with the flag and two soldiers, of course you would be mourning and grieving over his fake loss.

So he shouldn't have been surprised when he walked through the door to see you looking like a mess drunk and scared

It took him a second watching your drunk mind trying to comprehend how the fuck he's standing there

It's not until he touches you that you start to cry

He doesn't care. Nope. After all it is sort of his fault that you are even in this state

He won't explain it, you'll probably forget everything and he'll repeat the whole process again

Instead he holds you, cradling you as you weep and drunkenly speak about your feelings

The whiplash of emotions are intense for him, he's still feeling on edge and dealing with his own troubles as well

But despite your crying you help him and so he'll help you always

Vendetta:

You weren't sure who's idea drunk Jenga was but it was a bad one

The both of you went from being playful taking shots when you pulled out that particular block to silently crying

Leon was crying because he finally felt happy tonight, like a slither of hope wormed it's way in his life when you were both laughing only for it to be stopped when the coats on the door looked too much like a silhouette from his past

He silently cried, trying not to kill the mood but you noticed and when he explained what happened you cried

He finally caved to touch and brought you into his arms like a weighted blanket

Instead of his own head he focused on you, on stopping your tears with promises that he'll be okay

And lots of kisses, forehead, hands everywhere he can reach

Death Island:

Girls night went to shit and Leon was definitely not expecting the call for him to pick you up so early into the night

Your friends were jealous of him, projecting their insecurities onto you in the hopes you'll leave him.

Your drunken mind could compute if he was angry at you, that you interrupted his one peaceful night away from you

So when he pulled up and you started sobbing the word sorry at him. He was confused

He helped you into the car constantly reassuring you he wasn't mad and that's what he was here for

It's not until you get home that the real flood gates happen and again he just patiently listens to you until it stops or you pass out

He'll help you dress down, taking off make up and getting you into sleepwear (which is just his boxers and shirt at this point)

In the morning he'll want you to explain everything again so he can really nail it into your head that youa re the only one for him

(plus morning head is the best cure for a hangover)

[suzukiblu]

If we are highlighting specific characters (re:the bart asks) I just want to say as far as less-popular characters, I love love love your portrayal of Bernard! Not sure if he's in anything other than think pink, the very most recent update of interdimensional kidnapping (which I was SO overjoyed about), and the timberkon soulmate au of yours. If there's any I've missed, I'd love to know!! I just think his perspective is so silly and fun the way you write him!! His character has the potential to be a very cool non-hero/vigilante perspective that is relatively moldable given that there's not a whole lot canon-wise on him, and I think you have really done a great job at making him a delight to read!

Ty! 💛💛 I find Bernard very enjoyable to write, hah, I try my best to balance him between his OG "weirdest dude in Tim's civilian life" characterization and current "most normal dude in Tim's vigilante life" characterization, YES I fully consider him that despite the pain cult and also his taste in men, lol.

ummmmm lemme see what I've got besides those three, I don't think there's a TON of others but one sec while I double-check my WIP list, haha, OKAY:

Kon is not a virgin (( chrono || non-chrono )) - Kon asks Bernard if it's okay to have sex with Tim for reasons that are definitely not trauma-based whatsoever. Definitely not! [ past rape/sexual assault; will eventually be nsfw ]

weird amnesia Timberkon (( chrono || non-chrono )) - This one I suspect is the one you will most enjoy of the WIPs I am currently linking you, given it's specifically from Bernard's perspective and also leans into the silly/fun/genre-savvy version of his perspective ( and also, like, people seem to like it probably the most of these WIPs ). Though also it contains some Emotional Doom(tm), definitely, hah. Bernard does not know why Superboy is so bad at secret identities and Tim does not know who "Superboy" is. And neither does anyone else. :)

honorable mentions for "so far Tim has just internal-monologued about Bernard but this AU is eventually gonna be some flavor of polyam and also smutty, yes that IS a very specific category, thank you for noticing, it isn't a lot but it IS weird that it's happened twice!":

stray cat strut (( chrono || non-chrono )) - Tim goes to a totally normal charity event for a pet rescue center and everything is totally normal. Especially the pets. All the pets are SO normal. [ eventual nsfw ]

Timkon xeno (( chrono || non-chrono )) - Tim has a fight with Bernard, finds out Kon has a very inconvenient alien breeding cycle to deal with, gets safeworded and cockwarmed, and cannot get his boyfriend to text him back or his best friend to talk to him, not necessarily all in that order. Text-resistant boyfriends may ( eventually ) be closer than they appear. ( also, for clarification purposes because infidelity is a personal dealbreaker for me and I haaaaate to read it, no cheating occurs in this fic: this is a "pre-established hall pass meets Pon Farr" situation, Tim just feels kinda shitty about it due to the timing. ) [ nsfw ]

Also Bernard will likely cameo/get namedropped in a couple of the longfics I'm working on and I do have at least one more WIP that he is def gonna show up and get some dedicated screentime in, but that specific development is both a ways off and a lil' bit spoilery so we're not gonna clarify which one it is just yet, haha. And eventually I might write "Tim gets a(nother) Pocket", as another installment in the "[ CHARACTER ] gets a Pocket" series that I've got.

[lesmiix]

Heyyy, could I have an extroverted reader x Hyung-juu. But they met in high school before her's transition and she always had a crush on him/she and now she wants to get closer? Thank you :33

ONE SHOT: So high school.

Hyun-ju x extroverted g/n!reader.

Summary: You and Hyun-ju met in highschool before her transition and she kinda has a crush on you 🫣

Warnings: g/n= gender neutral reader, pre and post transition, extroverted reader, fluff.

a/n: 💗 HYUN-JU REQUESTS ARE OPEN 💗 (check the pinned post)

Many people thought he was weird because he was quite feminine. She used to have black nail polish, wear a little makeup with concealer and mascara, and wear girly jewelry. Which the boys at your school didn't like. For that very reason, they used to tease him. But things didn't usually go too badly, just a few taunts from time to time.

(For now Hyun-ju has not come out and people refer to her with "he/him")

You were sitting in history class, without paying much attention to what the teacher was saying. You were looking at the scenery outside the window, admiring the birds flying across the sky, while thinking about your business. Suddenly, you noticed that someone was staring at you. You turned your head and saw that a boy was looking at you. That boy always seemed curious to you, he was always very nice to you, you were friends, not very close, but friends. He had a gentle personality, but not soft either, he had good leadership in group work and in physical education. His name was Hyun-ju. Cho Hyun-ju.

Seeing him looking at you, you smiled at him, but he quickly turned his head away, embarrassed. The bell rang, class ended. You gathered your things and headed to his table.

"Hey, Ju-ju" You used to have that nickname for him.

"Do you want to eat with us today?" You asked, extending your hand to him. He nodded, packed his things and went with you to the canteen.

You had quite a big group of friends, they were nice but you were not too close to you either, you got along really well though.

Everything went smoothly, everyone was very nice to Hyun-ju and the atmosphere felt very comfortable.

So the next few years passed, your relationship with Hyun-ju improved and you became very close friends, she even told you her biggest secret. She didn't want to live like a man, she wanted to live like a woman. You supported her from the very beginning, you were always there for her and you protected her from people's jokes and stood up to them.

All those brave actions for Hyun-ju, made hes feelings for you increase. She always admired your bravery and showed you how much she loved you.

You became inseparable, and her feelings for you started to become more and more obvious. And... You weren't going to deny that you thought she was very pretty. Every now and then you would find yourself admiring her, watching how her eyes sparkled with excitement every time she was happy and how her lips turned into a little smile every time you complimented her.

So, you worked up the courage and asked her to go with you to a secluded spot during recess.

"Are you gonna murder me or something?" She playfully asked, giving you this smirk that drove you crazy.

"I won't be surprised if you kill me instead." You joked back, afraid that you'd lose her for what you were going to say next .

"Why would I? It can't be that ba-" "I'm in love with you" You cut her off.

She looked at you, confused.

"I've been in love with you for a while now, Hyun-ju." Nerves began to control your body and you started to stutter..

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way, I just felt like you had to know, it wouldn't be fair if you told me your biggest secret and I kept mine for myself. I really don't want to lose you, maybe it's stupid, but I-" And then, you felt her lips against yours. Holding you in a soft kiss, between her arms.

"I... I think- I mean, I'm sure that I'm in love with you too." She said once she pulled away.

The nerves once you had disappeared, you hugged her and she kept you close to her. And that's when you realized that was where you really wanted to be, with the only person who truly cared about you.

[nimbus2224]

Breaking my radio silence to hurl this fantastic animation (imho) to the Tumblr masses so it can get the love it deserves. :D My reaction (TLDR I can't stop singing its praises): +Beautiful animation and visuals. Love the intentionality and realism to the set pieces (machinery gets used for cover). I loved how the weapons had heft, the droids felt mechanical and brutal, the clones were simultaneously vulnerable and incredible. They felt like real soldiers with real fears and the drive to protect each other. +Cody gets to use his jetpack and rifle. It's about time! +I think my favorite moment from the short is the sunlight coming through the larty door and Cody's demeanor changing from brooding to thoughtful and present, before he looks at his men with pride. That scene just oozes everything good about Cody: Seeing the good moments and appreciating them, living for them. Appreciating and being there for his brothers, what they've accomplished together and who they are as individuals. And there are numerous moments throughout the short of his men showing their individual drive and flair, putting those skills to use. +The fight gets a bit desperate and I'm not entirely certain of the story behind it (Cody kinda fights a bit recklessly, though it surprises the droids and pays off in the end). I feel like they were sent there to investigate a dilapidated and 'abandoned' droid depot, and obviously it was a trap set up by Grevious. I'm a bit anxious as to knowing how they'll get out of there alive but I also remember well the one episode in CW where like three or four 212th boys pile on top of Grevious after the Droid General spider walks at them, no less. +I loved the little nods to the Gendy Tarkovsky Clone Wars animated series. The Squad Seven-esque entrance, the Grevious jumpscare, the dilapidated droid depot. I also felt like this was a parallel to Astartes, which I adore also (it got me into Warhammer 40k lore). :) +There was a lot of thought and care put into the character models. I love how realistic they are. Things like seeing the weathering on Cody's face, the grubbiness of the 212th's armor, the way the light hit the different materials --- it really told a sub-story about where the war is at and what these characters have been through up until this point. +Camera angles were great. They elevated the scenes into something akin to Andor or other thoughtfully shot shows or movies. The angles all had a purpose --- from establishing the staging area to giving Cody's charge at the droids extra momentum and scope (watching those B2 bolts whip after him had me on the edge of my seat). I appreciate the skill and awareness of Hoplite for not just creating these shots but using them masterfully to create pacing and feeling.

+ The music felt gritty and very Doom-esque. I think it's fitting in the sense that many might find the 212th's effectiveness and badassery a surprise. If there is any doubt of these two things being true of the 212th, the music puts that to rest. >:D Rip and tear until it is done! XD I also listened to "Tenet - Trucks in place," "Darktide - The Immortal Imperium," "Darktide - Disposal Unit (Imperium Mix)," and more just for a different vibe while rewatching this short.

[reikafanfic]

NSFW Headcanons For ZeroBaseOne Maknae Line

Includes:- Taerae, Ricky, Gyuvin, Gunwook

Shimkongz section is kinda long, mb guys, they're my biases 😞🔫

Many typos, not much grammar.

Hyung line, Maknae line

✿ ✿ Taerae ✿ ✿

Every group has a bitchless virgin and I fear Taerae is it HEAR ME OUT✋🏼✋🏼

Just never really bad the opportunity, I also kinda get the vibe he was less interested in romance than other people.

Or maybe that's just me leaning into the fact that he's the only T in the group.

He's awkward as hell I'm the beginning, stops you before something can really happen because he's kind of shy.

You definitely have to take a more forward role in the beginning but I don't see him as someone who's really into Dom/sub dynamics.

Pretty vanilla, at least for now.

REALLY likes getting head, seeing you on your knees trying to please him really gets him going.

Prettiest moans, his voice is so beautiful like 🤭

Cums ALOT, his thighs shake from how much he cums sometimes.

Speaking of which, he gets really tired after sex, like fall asleep any minute type of tired, just wants to cuddle and go to sleep.

Gets kind of annoyed when you insists on cleaning up but will do it if you make enough of a stink about it.

✿ ✿ Ricky ✿ ✿

lol. Lmao even.

I'm sorry everyone but in my heart this man is a loser.

Wdym you played daddy's home on your live stream and posed? YOU WANNA BE COOL SO BAD🫵🏼 (I say this with affection)

Talks a big game but at the end of the day he's only like 20 years old and doesn't have much experience.

Tries to do the daddy Dom stuff, fails spectacularly.

Really ties to be a hard dom but he's too much of a softy for that, he isn't a virgin but still needs to figure out what works for him.

Definitely does like being dominant just not as hard as he thought he did, think of him as a soft dom that's into some hard kinks.

Praise kink. Both giving and recieving, he isn't insecure in anyway but it really turns him on when you talk about how food he's making you feel.

Vice versa he also loves praising you, most of its unconscious though, it kinda spills out when he's inside you.

More switchy than he initially thought he would be, the first time you pushed him onto the bed to ride him, it unlocked something within him.

Lazy as hell during aftercare, usually you have to pester him to come shower with you.

Will order you food though, anything you want, Mr tall rich and handsome over here

✿ ✿ Gyuvin ✿ ✿

Service Top. Argue with the wall because I'm right!!

Into minor pet play, being called puppy and such. Might even let you put a collar on him of you really want.

Also doesn't have much experience but I don't think he's a virgin either, maybe slept with one more person before you.

HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS.

Has you lean your back against his chest and spread your legs so he can finger you easier, won't let you get up until he's made you cum at least twice.

Also a switch, he's so much of a service top that he'll sub if that's what you want.

Huge praise kink, on the receiving end. I remember he mentioned once that he didn't get a lot of compliments growing up so when you praise him, especially when he's fucking you, it really gets to him.

Also feel like he cries after sometimes, I feel like he's just a emotional person in general.

Speaking of being a service top, another munch 🙏🏼, laps you up like a dog (istg I can't go more than two posts without writing something with pet play, that's mb)

Prefers missionary, really likes seeing your face and the way it contorts when he's hitting it right.

Really cuddly during aftercare, wants to talk to you and just hold you for a while, pulls up and covers and brushes your hair out of your face, smiling as he talks about anything and everything with you.

You eventually start feeling gross though and make him clean you up.

Small spoon.

Sigh, I want him do bad it's not even funny.

✿ ✿ Gunwook ✿ ✿

He's such a tease, type of guy to hold something over his head so he can watch you try to reach for it, that translates into bed too.

Makes you say what you want, even when it's clear as day, will literally have you half naked I his bed and still insist you tell him exactly what you want.

Consent king?? I guess???

Also loves getting head, like so much that he'll go out of his way to ask for it, not that you mind though, he's got a pretty dick and even prettier moans.

He's into mild bondage too, both being tied up and tying you up, something about him being at your mercy turns him on immensely, and vice versa.

Into body worship, giggles and blushes whoever you point out how good his muscles look in his tank top, shaking his head and denying your compliment, all the while your words went straight to his dick.

Has a pretty high libido, you've done it in less than private places more than once, he just can't help himself.

Kinda shit at aftercare at first, just kinda goes to sleep, maybe draping a arm around you.

He learns overtime though, he still does the bare minimum but he genuinely does care.

Big spoon.

Don't really like this but I still wanted to post </3

[typewritingyip]

Bluestreak was talking, Sunstreaker was listening.

"...and they were bonded! Which is insane, they were sniping at each other (get it, get it) during the entire book," Bluestreak said, pausing for a moment to take a sip of his energon.

Sunstreaker furrowed his brow.

"Bonded?"

"I know right!? It was the biggest plot twist of the entire series, but Steelstriker is known for that kind of thing. Still, I don't think anyone was expecting that, except maybe Prowl, but I don't think that he's ever surprised by plot twists in books or shows or anything really."

"Wait, Blue, I don't know what that is."

Bluestreak stopped and gave him a horrified look.

"You don't know what a plot twist is?"

He sounded close to tears, as if even the idea that Sunstreaker didn't have access to good books was sad enough to cry over.

"No! Not plot twists. I'm not uneducated, I know what a plot twist is."

Blue made a confused face, he looked like a confused puppy dog.

"Bonded, I don't know what bonded means in this context."

"Oh."

Bluestreak stopped to think about what he was going to say (a rarity).

"Bonding is... bonding is when you choose to merge your spark with someone else, and form a permanent bond between the two of you."

"Spark? Wait, your soul? You can do that? How?"

Bluestreak narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"You just said the same word twice, Spark and [Soul]."

"It's two different words in English baby Blue."

Bluestreak blushed, scrambling to find his words.

"Yeah, we can do that. We just kinda, push them together? It's not just a spark merge though."

"What's the difference between a spark merge and a bond?"

"A merge isn't as deep as a bond, and a bond is permanent, a merge isn't."

"Why do you bond?"

Bluestreak stopped to think again, like he only did when he really wanted his words to mean something.

"Bonding is a permanent show of love. When you bond, you see everything that a person is, all their memories, all their experiences, all their actions, and even after that, you can tell what they're feeling and how they're doing, even if you're too far away to communicate otherwise. And if they die, you'll probably go with them to the well."

Sunstreaker paused, he didn't really get it, 'a permanent show of love' Bluestreak had called it, and one that was till death do you part.

Oh.

"So bonding is like marriage?"

Bluestreak didn't have to think about that one.

"Getting Conjunxed isn't the only way to bond, Amica get bonded too."

"Does marriage translate as Conjunxed?"

"You just said the same word twice, so probably," Bluestreak giggled.

Sunstreaker rolled his eyes.

"So Conjunx is marriage, and that falls under the title of bonding, but Amica also get bonded, but that isn't marriage. So what is an Amica bond?"

"Conjunx Endura are romantic, Amica Endura are platonic."

"So you have a best friend version of marriage. Huh. Alright then."

"To be honest, I think it's kinda odd that you guys don't have Amica Endura."

"Well, usually you marry your best friend, or they become it after you've been married a while. At least, that's how my parents were. They were each other's best friend."

"...Were?"

"Were. They got lucky, they didn't have to live without each other. They died during a quint attack when I was a kid."

Bluestreak bit his lip.

"I'm sorry for your loss, you didn't deserve that," Bluestreak sounded actually upset for him, and the platitudes that usually only made him feel more upset more empty sounded truly remorseful.

"Thanks."

Bluestreak didn't say anything for another minute, finishing off his previously forgotton energon cube.

"...do you want to hear about the rest of the book series?"

It was an olive branch, a chance to move on from the heavier topic.

"Yeah, I'd like that a lot Blue."

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

So, funny thing, I initially started writing this as MiraHound in the cafe, and I did research on 80s love songs that would fit the vibe, (I went with purple rain, the symbolism was perfect, but twasn't meant to be) and that took me at least 10 minutes, then I didn't write MiraHound, I totally switched the setting, ship, and vibe, so I used none of that research lol.

I didn't mean to write the part about the parents, but I felt like it fit. I had wanted to mention something about people being able to die of grief, but I couldn't work it in.

Thanks for the prompt Yip, I really liked writing this.

Prompt: "Discussions of differences in relationships (conjunx, amica, v married, best friend) with your choice of characters."

Anyway, I think I did this justice, but let me know.

OH MY GOD. I am grinning ear to ear.

You guys get to eat while I struggle with the next chapter, I swear it’ll be up tonight.

But between now and then, enjoy this!

[winwin17]

Ok, this is going to be a really silly headcanon, but here it is.

Fellowship of the Ring members ranked according to who would have the most dramatic sneeze (in order from most to least dramatic):

#1. Pippin. You probably expected this. Hobbits might be very mindful of manners and politeness, but Pippin has Rich Hobbit Privilege and he does not care. Consequently, his sneezes are loud and dramatic (partly on purpose if he's being honest), followed by a loud, "Well, bless me!!" (especially if no one else said it)

#2. Gandalf. Let's face it, unless there's the possibility of stirring up imminent danger by being noisy, Gandalf secretly relishes in a dramatic production of a sneeze. He's just been around for so long that he doesn't care anymore - although it might be at least half played up for amusement, and he likes to see folks worry he might actually blow their house down.

#3. & #4. I'm going to say it's a tie between Gimli and Boromir. While Gimli is a mannerly Dwarf, he does have a tendency to be assertive and/or boisterous, and his sneeze would be right in line with that. Boromir, however, probably has an absolute dad sneeze - which might be a little played up if he thinks no one's listening or if he's trying to amuse someone, but mostly he just naturally has one of those sneezes that almost rattles the windows and can scare you if you weren't expecting it. Also the worst for surprise sneezes out of the blue.

#5. Sam. Bless his dear heart, he tries his best to be polite and mannerly, but he just has a hearty Hobbit sneeze. (He may also follow it up by saying "bless me," but more as an apology than a desire to make a scene than the way Pippin does it.)

#6. Legolas. This Elf kinda just doesn't even care. He's a wood elf - he doesn't have to worry about appearing all ethereal. And besides, since when does he follow hard to convention and expectations or worry a lot about what other people think? Of course he has a sense of decency, but catch him in the right moment and you might be surprised to find he can produce a sneeze that shakes the new baby leaves on trees.

#7. Aragorn. His ranger experience has taught him how to be very stealthy and even suppress surprise sneezes. But he's also a bit of a rough and rugged guy, and he's been on his own a lot, so if he feels the freedom to do so, he may just let it all it out in a powerful sneeze fit for a king. If he's comfortable enough with whoever may be around at the moment, he might even just give silly little smile and not even apologize.

#8. Merry. Being a bit more of a dignified Hobbit, he probably tries to suppress his sneezes. And for some reason, he's much better at it than some others. May still follow it with a "bless me," though.

#9. Frodo. In spite of being raised by his uncle Bilbo, who probably often sneezed as loudly and unapologetically as possible in his home at Bag End, Frodo has mastered the art of the most delicate, almost imperceptible sneeze. Probably at some point (at least once) this has resulted in people looking at him quizzically and going, "What even was that?"

Ok, there you have it!! My silly sneeze headcanon! (I'd love to see comments and/or reblogs to hear whether people agree or disagree on any of these!)

[nichiperi]

I've been using this sketchbook since 2018 when I started attending university. But I didn't really use it much until around 2020, shortly before I got back into Invader Zim. Flipping through it recently, I realized that there's a bunch of stuff in here I never shared with anybody (or at least, not a lot of people), so I thought I'd post some of it! :D

Open the Read More to peer into the sketchbook~ ✨📓✨

These were some of the first adult Dib sketches I did when I just barely tiptoed back into the fandom. I was still trying to relearn the style at this point lol, but I still like 'em!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This is what the interdimensional transporter that Zim and Dib use in my fic looks like! I'd always intended to make a nice colorful reference sheet, but it never came to pass... I'm still working on my fic though, so maybe someday!! The design could use some tweaks first though...not enough wires or cables for my taste lol.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This is the first overtly ZADR-y thing I'd ever drawn. Sounds silly to admit now, but I was actually really scared to draw it or even talk about it at first. (⁠;⁠;⁠;⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠) Things sure are different now lol. These past few years have been my first time doing this much ship art in general, and it's been really nice to have gotten to a point where I'm not so nervous about it all the time!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A Space Trash Zim from the @izspacetrash AU! I once had a version of this I'd colored, but I must've accidentally deleted it at some point because the thing is just gone. It is lost to the void. Maybe I should redraw him one of these days... ✨👀✨

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A gaggle of assorted doodles!! I like doing these cluttered messes every now and again to practice with expressions or poses...or even just 'cause I wanna mindlessly put more space bug shapes on paper. 🪳🪳🪳

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A Dib expression that turned out really good. Can't remember what he was supposed to be for, but....he exists. :)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This was supposed to be a thing with a whooooole lot of Zim's killing each other. I was....feeling A Way. (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) Buuut quickly realized that I didn't like what I did with their proportions and scrapped it. When I first started out re-learning how to draw Zim, I tended to give him more lanky proportions. But now, I really tend to favor drawing a more canon-compliant tiny Zim. I think this piece in particular was kinda the last nail in the coffin for my taller Zims. Sorry, tall Zim.... XD

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

These last two were going to be part of a comic... The last time I asked for sketch requests, someone sent me a prompt that really just sent my brain into overdrive and I was SUPER inspired.....and then life happened and I didn't end up finishing the idea I had. (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠) Sorry if you're reading this, whoever you were! Your ask is still sitting in my box and I STILL rotate this idea in my brain quite often!! I'd love to finish it someday!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That's all for now! But I hope y'all enjoyed! I've been having a rough time irl and seeing all these older sketches really made me happy, so I felt like sharing. Currently crawling my way out of some weirdly selective art block, but I shall have more finished things to share soon~! 💚

[theallianceofcelestials]

I feel like I asked for too many small drabbles so this will be the last one for awhile, will still ask about what if scenarios though XD

Maybe a small drabble about how Ruin comforts Eclipse when he can't bring himself to light the rig up? Cause you did say Ruin would do that in the other ask and the image hasn't left my head, what can I say, there's not enough writing for this ship XD

- 🎭

Don't worry about it. I understand people want their small little drabbles. I just appreciate you were always polite with them

Do have to warn people this is spoilers for the actual fic and kinda has implications

Also, agree, this ship is underrated (tho I can also enjoy a good parental Ruin too, those can be cute too)

"Come on! Drop it! Don't keep a man waiting~"

But despite the encouragement, his fingers just don't want to let go. It doesn't matter how the little light is flickering just above where the drill once was.

He's just... standing on the edge and staring by this point.

So he sighs, arm falling limp. His grip is still tight around the lighter.

"I can't do it'

One request. Campbell had one single request of him, and he can't even bring himself to fucking do it. How pathetic, really

"Pardon?"

"I can't do it!"

Perhaps it's dumb to shout at something that's close to being a god, but he can't help it. He's just so damn tired and angry.

Today has been a nightmare. He'd give anything to go back to blissful ignorance.

A hand slowly intertwines with his own.

Well, almost anything

"Are you alright dear?"

All of his posturing was dropped. There's only that cloying concern from before. It makes him want to cry.

"No"

Ruin draws him into a hug, pulling him down until he can hide in his neck. Eclipse doesn't bother fighting.

"I know, that was a stupid question. I should have thought more of this through. But it's okay love. You will be fine"

But not anyone else. Only him.

It's a heavy weight to bear

"Now if only you could silence the silly little worries in your head! They're bad for you."

A hand begins gently cradling through his rays, and he relaxes with a sigh. There's no point in trying to fight this. There's no point in trying to fight the warmth he feels.

How could he have caught the eye of such an extraordinary and ethereal creature?

Ruin begins pulling away, but he doesn't want to let go. He doesn't feel ready to.

"It's alright love. I'm not going anywhere. I just want to get us away from here. To maybe your room?"

"My room?"

"Of course! You didn't think I didn't preserve it, did you?"

Somehow that makes him feel bashful. The little chuckle from his lover makes him feel warm.

"Come now dear! Let us cuddle. And maybe later we can try... something else too~"

The wink is exaggerated, but the heat is still in those mismatched optics. It makes him shiver.

Perhaps this wasn't such a bad thing...

[heartbeetz]

99% sure I made this post before but I'm thinking about it again. I like that so many people (myself included) decided Anton is the romantic type. Based on nothing. We're right though. ♡

[zepskies]

I was so happy to read a sequel story for Long As I Can See The Light!!

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more.  More of him and more time. It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

God YES. This is the same idea I've explored in my sequel fics to ESC. It's the idea of wanting more time with a man who by necessity of his job, has to pop in and out of your life. As endearing as Russell is, that would be such a difficult obstacle to overcome in a new relationship.

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more.  With Russell there was no such thing. When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

Ugh I'm so glad she's got a man in her life that actually loves her and considers her the way she deserves. And if you ever write more of these two I would love to see this exploration of how Russell helps her feel beautiful and appreciated again. 💕

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

*snorts* yeah, like a mule, I'd imagine. 😆 But there's something so endearing about Russ wanting and insisting on fixing things around the house for her. Though of course I sympathize with her side of things. She just wants a nice healthy piece of her man. The showerhead can wait! 😏

Maybe I should try a different approach. “Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.”  Russell swallows. “Baby-” “And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

Oh how I cackled! 😝 She's playing dirty and I love it lmao! Girl get him!

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“  “Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

💀💀 Get himmmmm!

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

LMFAO. Okay, Russ took me out with that one. The audacity. 🤣🤣

Side note: but I love the word "salacious," especially because it fits so well with most Jackles characters. lol

Omg yay he's moving in!! That's a big step and I love that for them.

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

Girl Yessss - I love the body positivity in this storyverse so damn much. Thank you for continuing this giving me more Russell goodness, I really enjoy how you write him! 💜

It's Not A Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: “Is that supposed to be leaking?”

Requested by: @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary:  When your boyfriend comes into town to surprise you one weekend, you thought that you’d spend it together, turns out he has other plans. Reader is a single mom and is the niece of Teddi and Velma. Reader is described as curvy. (Technically takes place in my Long As I Can See The Light Universe, but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Tropes: Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because I made it more spicy than I meant it to, References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Cursing, Kissing, Idiots who love each other lots. I think that's everything?

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Tracker Masterlist

A/N: Alright, y'all this is my first fic written for my prompt celebration requested by the wonderful @luci-in-trenchcoats 😊 ENJOY!

You took another long sip of coffee from your favorite hand-painted "World's Best Mom Mug" and tried to block out the symphony of the colorful curse words and banging coming from your upstairs master bathroom.

When your boyfriend showed up this morning out of the blue to surprise you, this was not what you expected to be doing. Well, his appearance was a surprise to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt Teddi and her wife Velma had gotten a heads up that Russell was coming. They'd shown up about an hour before Russell had to take your son and daughter for a movie and a sleepover at their house.

But the bigger surprise was your current dilemma.

You'd expected to be tangled up with Russell in bed for hours trying to convince him to never leave you again, not be waiting downstairs while he tried to install a new shower head in your master bathroom.

You only blamed yourself.

You'd let it slip that the water pressure wasn't quite right and something that you'd thought would take a plumber twenty minutes had turned into an all day affair for Russell. 

Instead of taking you to bed, Russell had dragged you out to his car and to the nearest hardware store where he let you pick out a new shower head and where he got supplies, all the while you told him that he didn't need to, and Russell only kissed away the frown on your lips leaving you wanting more.

You always wanted more.

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more. 

More of him and more time.

It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

It had been cold before and you didn’t want to go back to that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the cold bed over the final years of your marriage when your husband’s favorite phrases echoed through your bedroom after you put your children to bed:

“I’m tired” and “Not tonight baby, I have to work.”

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more. 

With Russell there was no such thing.

When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

But each time he left, Russell always took a little bit of yourself with him. You didn't sleep well when he was gone doing God knows what, God knows where, only that when he finally called or showed up to tell you he was okay, you didn't let go of him for hours.

There's another loud bang followed by a string of curses that make you sigh into your mug.

For fucks sake, that stupid showerhead is getting more action than I am.

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

You straighten up from where you lounged against the countertop in your kitchen, taking one more sip of coffee, before you make the trek through your living room and up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

This wasn't the first time that Russell fixed something in your home. He liked it when you made him a list of things to do when he visited, things like cleaning the gutters, nailing down the front step that always caught underfoot, mowing the lawn, etc. Things that Russell wanted to do for you because he knew how busy you got at work and with your children.

It made you love him more, because you’d never met someone so selfless before. 

When you enter the bathroom, Russell is standing in your shower, just inside the large glass double doors, soaking wet, and holding a wrench.

His usual easy smile has slipped into a frustrated frown while he stares at the bright silver shower head hanging on the wall. 

“I see things are going well.” You snort out a laugh, admiring the scene before you. 

Russell’s dark hair drips forward in lazy strands against his cheeks, his t-shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, catching in the dips and curves of your boyfriend’s muscular torso, and his usual blue jeans are stained a dark navy. The edge of his t-shirt pulls up from the top of his jeans with the stretch of his arms, giving you a view of the delicious stripe of skin just below his belly button.

For the love of french toast, the guy could win a wet t-shirt contest without batting one of those ridiculously perfect eyelashes of his.

At this point you were still trying to figure out how the hell you landed this man and why the hell he kept coming back for more of you.

“Smooth as silk.” Russell gives you a lazy smile that makes you feel like butter on a pile of buttermilk biscuits. “I just finished.”

 “Really?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.” You take a step closer to admire his handiwork, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the side of your face, making goosebumps trail over your skin. All it does is remind you of what the two of you could be doing instead of standing inside of your walk-in shower fully clothed and the things the two of you had done in this very shower the last time he was in town.  

"Is that supposed to be leaking?" You ask, pointing to the place where the plate of the shower head fastens to the wall and where there is a trickle of water dancing down the white subway tile backsplash.

"Oh shit." Russell sighs, his shoulders drooping when he notices the stream. “I can fix that."

You note his sheepish smile. “Rus, please let me call a plumber. You’ve been up here for two hours!” 

“No way! They overcharge you and it’s what I’m here for!” He argues.

Maybe I should try a different approach.

“Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.” 

Russell swallows. “Baby-”

“And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

“I-” He tries again, but you feel his hands come down to the curve of your hips to ground himself there. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You murmur into his skin, pressing your chest against his as your hands work up to the back of his neck. The water from his clothes soaks into yours, but you’re not cold. 

“You’re fighting dirty.” He half groans, but you don’t feel bad. Judging by the way his hands have begun to squeeze your hips and pull you tighter against him, Russell was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“But it always works.” You purr against his throat with a smirk. 

“Fuck, baby I-“ 

“Yeah?” 

Your smirk grows the more you tease him. By now you could feel your own heartbeat thudding in your chest calling out to his and despite how cold Russell’s wet clothes are, heat was dancing along your skin. 

“I really want-“ There’s a grit along Russell’s voice, as if he’s trying to hold on to some shred of self-control.

You loved that you were able to do this to him, it made you feel powerful and sexy. Two things that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hmm?” You moan softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while your lips continue their path along his skin.

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“ 

“Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

Russell pulls back from you, holding your wrists in his large hands. But he looks far from angry. His green eyes flash a darkened pine, and dance with mischief. “Baby, trust me. There is nothing more that I want to do than show you how much I missed you.” 

“Then why-" You begin to say.

“Because I know that the second I do that, we’re not going to do anything else the rest of the time I’m here. And I want to do this for you.” Russell’s eyes shift a little lighter. He releases your wrists and cups your cheek with his large hand. You can see the love you have for Russell reflected back at you in his gaze

You sigh again a little disappointed. Today really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to.  “But I missed you.” 

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

“Shut up!” You slap him on the shoulder, cheeks flaming. 

Russell only smirks wider at you. “You know… I’ve got a solution for that.”

“Oh do you?” You ask innocently. 

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

Russell hesitates, his hand still stroking your cheek softly. "I could move in."

It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say.

“See I've been thinking about this for a bit." Russell  clears his throat. “I know you can’t move because of the kids but... I want to be here in your life. I hate leaving you and each time I get done with a job I always find myself driving back to you. I don't want to be anywhere else.”

Your mouth is still open in shock, eyes wide. You couldn’t find the ability to speak.

In the months that followed your divorce you’d been on a couple of dates before you met Russell, where the mere mention of your kids sent your dates scuttling into the shadows or back to whatever swamp they crawled out of, but here, standing in front of you was a man who didn’t just want you, he wanted you, and he wanted your children. 

It was a combination that you thought you’d never find, and then you’d met Russell. A man who not only loved you, he made you feel beautiful, alive, happy, and seen in a way that you hadn’t been in years. 

Not to mention that both of your children absolutely loved Russell, and he did a good job of scaring off your skeevy ex who refused to come around whenever Russell was in town because the last time Russell had broken his nose and threatened other bodily harm.

Russell’s soft smile drops a little the longer you remain silent. “But if you think that’s a bad idea or if you think it’s too fast-”

You pull him down to you for the searing kiss that you’d wanted all day long, feeling the drag of his beard against your soft skin, and the warm pillow of his lips moving in tandem with yours. 

His hands run along the curves of your body, trailing fire in their wake, the same curves that you’d hidden under long cardigans and oversized clothes, the ones that you cursed each time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. But not since you’d met Russell. 

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

“It’s not too fast! I hate when you leave. I hate waking up in my bed each morning and not having you there holding me. ” You breathe before you kiss him again, soaking in everything that is Russell as you do. The roughness of his hands pushing up the shirt hung low on your hips, the smell of mint and gunmetal, the taste of the coffee he had this morning, and gentle drag of his wet hair against your cheeks that dip between the two of your faces when you kiss. “I want you here with me all the time.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Russell smiles so wide you can feel the click of his teeth against yours when he pulls you back in for a kiss. 

“Wait.” You smirk, leaning your forehead against his, your hands gently cupping his bearded cheeks. "If I say yes, I have one condition."

"Anything."

"Please let me call a plumber."

Russell rolls his eyes at you, but squeezes you tighter against him, green eyes flashing with mischief. “Not a chance baby.”

A/N: It was so fun to write this prompt and also to come back to these two! Thank you so much @luci-in-trenchcoats for requesting this one 🥰 If anyone else would like to ask me a prompt for my prompt celebration, here is the post:

Prompt Celebration

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always appreciated 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee

[aroaceleovaldez]

i would like to say my ideal PJO adaptation (if i was being physically forced against my will to have to pick a live action adaptation over an animated one for some reason) would be a combo like writing of the musical + casting of the show + visuals of the movies

BUT the show actually does have the playwright for the musical as one of the major writers for like three episodes and that did nothing for it. so...

[shinyboomboom]

Micheal Townsend

"There was a difference between knowing that Micheal's father was abusive and seeing it."

Bonus: