#This wouldn’t leave my brain so here you go

[wosospacegirl]

Grumpy - Head coach (aka manager)! Leah x arsenal! r

Summary: Reader messes up on her first day at Arsenal, and Leah, being her usual grumpy self, doesn’t make things any easier.

Warnings: A bit of angst + McCabe walking in on R and L in a rather awkward moment.

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist here

This is a new universe I'm writing about, so just let me know if you guys enjoy it and if you have any requests! <3

..

Leah Williamson became a living legend after leading the Lionesses to yet another win in the Euros 2025 as the team captain and a defender. Unfortunately, for her, 2025 was the last year she played as a professional footballer, having suffered a career-ending injury at the end of the season.

Leah was completely distraught when she got the news. She isolated herself from everyone she knew, finding it hard to discover another purpose in life. That was, until Leah’s formal coach, Serina, stepped in and invited the blonde to some coffee in North London.

“I think I know what would help you,” Serina said, taking a sip of her cappuccino.

“Are you going to give me a new knee?” Leah asked, a hint of madness in her voice. Everybody thought they could help her, but in reality, half of her friends couldn’t even understand what was going on inside her head.

Sarina ignored Leah’s mood. “Belgium has one of the best coaching center in the world. I went there, Renée too. If you could get a coaching certificate, you could start working as an assistant, or as a youth coach at Arsenal. You’ve been there since you were a kid, and with your history Arsenal’s management would be mad not to give you a chance.”

“Coach?”

“Why not? You have a football brain, you have good leadership, people trust you. You are a full package,” Sarina responded. “Just think about it, will you?”

Sarina left the coffee shop, leaving a contemplative Leah behind.

..

“If you need anything, you have my number.” Renée’s voice echoed through Arsenal’s training grounds.

It was Renée’s last day as the head coach. Three years ago, Leah went to Brussels and got her coaching certificate. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be.

She was already very keen on football. After eight months of entering the Coach Academy, Leah was ready to start a new chapter of her life: assistant manager of Arsenal, alongside Renée.

The whole time Leah spent as Renée’s assistant was very productive. Leah learned a lot from the older woman, but Leah couldn’t wait to the day she would be officially named Head Coach, aka Manager. As an assistant, Leah had some type of power to make strategic changes during a match and give her two cents on matters of hiring new players, but still wasn’t enough.

Leah promised herself she wouldn’t stop until she became the manager of Arsenal women. She would build her dream team and be the best manager she could be.

And that’s what Leah did.

Renée decided to retire, and Arsenal agreed to sign Leah Williamson—the ex-captain of England Nacional team and Gunner-born—to their team.

“I have everything under control, Renée. You know I’ve been wanting your manager position for a long time.” Leah said with a smirk. “The only thing you have to worry about is your wife and daughter, alright, mate? You’ve already done a lot for arsenal.”

Both Leah and Renée were wearing Arsenal’s matching outfits. They had just left a small farewell party on the Arsenal’s event room; almost all players were there to say their goodbyes to Renée, and of course, welcome Leah into her new position.

“Still, Williamson, if you need any help, tips or even a friendly shoulder, just know that I’m here,” Renée insisted. The older woman was carrying a box in her arms, the outside having Once a gunner, always a gunner written on it.

Leah stared at the box, she had seen Renée packing things up in her office earlier that day, carefully putting pictures, books and even newspapers articles about Arsenal inside the container. It being full meant that Leah’s new office was officially ready for her to take in.

Both women walked through the front door of the Arsenal Training Grounds, and a cold breeze met Leah in the face, making the women shivered. Renée looked at the busy street ahead of her until she pointed to a black Audi A3. “That’s mine, guess I’ll go then,” Renée said, a bittersweet smile on her face.

Before Renée could walk, Leah gave her a hug. “Thank you for everything, If I ever need you, I’ll give you a call.”

Renée hugged the blonde woman back before heading to her car. Before she could open the driver’s door she turned to Leah.

“Don’t forget about the new girl coming in tomorrow, Leah. You’ll have to show her around and everything, plus she’s not from the UK, so—”

“Renée don’t worry!  Y/n is coming tomorrow at 9am, I have everything planned out,” Leah rolled her eyes playfully.

Leah watched as the ex-Arsenal manager got into the car and left.

Leah Williamson. New Head Manager, now official.

..

Leah thought her first day as Manager would be unfazed. What could go wrong? It was her first day of manager, of course, but it wasn’t like she was completely new to it. The team hadn’t changed much compared to last season, aside from Y/n, the newest Arsenal player.

And Y/n was exactly what made Leah’s day go wrong.

It was 9:37 am and the girl was nowhere to be seen.

Leah was waiting alongside the media team to greet and get to know Y/n officially for the first time. Leah didn’t participate a lot in Y/n’s hiring; it was mostly Renée doing the work of checking her statistics and all the bureaucracy of recruiting someone from another country. Leah didn’t even agree with Renée at first, she couldn’t see why Arsenal needed another defender.

“Arsenal needs a sweeper,” Renée had argued during one of their meetings. “Someone who is faster, logical but not aggressive. This kid Y/n is great for the position.”

“Leah, we really to get going, we need to take solo photos of the players, maybe when Y/n gets here we can try to make a small welcoming video, or something,” Clarice, the media director said as she looked at her watch. “I mean she is very late, and we have so much to do—”

“Yeah, of course, Clarice, you all can go. If she arrives, I’ll give you a call,” Leah said, impatience clear in her voice

How can someone be late for their first day of training? It was clear to Leah that Y/n didn’t care so much about being the priciest Arsenal hiring in the last 10 years since she didn’t worry about actually coming to training.

Leah walked around, tapping her foot against the pavement. 5 minutes. Leah would wait 5 more minutes and if Y/n wasn’t here, she would go inside, into her office and let the new girl fend for herself. Leah was busy and she needed to watch a bunch of matches to study Arsenal’s future opponents, but instead she was here waiting for this girl like a fool.

9:42am.

Leah turned around, heading to the door. feeling stupid about waiting on someone who was not coming.  

Before Leah stepped into the building, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned around slowly, not enjoying the non-welcoming physical touch. Leah locked eyes with a girl.

Y/n.

Leah, for some reason, was expecting to find the girl in full footballer mode, perhaps with her hair tied back, or dirty clothing from and intense match, but Leah was not expecting to find a very… cute girl instead. Leah had only watched the videos Renée sent of Y/n on the pitch, so she was rather surprised to see the new girl didn’t naturally have grass all over her hair.

Y/n was wearing what looked to be five layers of clothing, and a coat which was way too big for her. She was wearing very inappropriate shoes for the light layer of snow accumulation on the floor. It was like Y/n didn’t know how to dress for cold weather.

Before Leah could blink, the new girl began rambling.

“I am so, so sorry, ma’am,” Y/n quavered, taking her hand off of Leah’s shoulder as she watched the frown on Leah’s face form. “So, you see, my cat ran away, and I had to chase after him and that took me twenty minutes, and then I took the wrong tube—”.”

“You are late,” Leah said before taking a last glance at the girl and getting inside. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Leah heard the girl walking behind her, the squeakiness of her shoes making Leah even more angry.

“I-I’m sorry, and of course, it won’t happen again, ma’am” Y/n apologized, looking down at her feet.

Today was supposed to be a good day, Y/n thought. She had written down on her planner everything she needed to do in order to get to the club in time. She had printed the map of the Tube so she could get around easily and not get lost, but of course it didn’t work out and now her new manager was clearly pissed at her.  

And of course, the women angry at her had to be THE Leah Willianson, one of the most skillful defender of all time and one of Y/n’s biggest inspirations.

Great Y/n, just great. When Y/n thought things couldn’t get worse, she heard Leah snap.

“And don’t call me ma’am.”

..

Y/n was trying to see the bright side of this situation. She was in a new country, had her own apartment, she had signed with one of the best teams in the league right now, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling of Leah’s harsh treatment against her.

Now, laying in her bed after her horrible day, Y/n could recap every bad interaction she had with Leah, which was, unfortunately, all of them, but it seemed Y/n just had the talent to make everything worse.

“This is the locker and the changing room. You can grab that one on the left,” Leah pointed at one of the lockers, with no identification on its door. “Basic rules: don’t let your clothes or boots lying around, lock your locker and just keep tidy. I hope can do that.”

Y/n hated Leah's tone. It was like the manager wanted to be everywhere else in the world but here with her. But she couldn’t blame Leah, she wouldn’t enjoy it if somebody kept her waiting for almost 50 minutes.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened earlier,” Y/n mumbled, following Leah through the corridors. She didn’t know where they were going. Maybe the kit room? “I’m normally very punctual.”

“Hm,” Leah said, sounding indifferent.

Maybe Y/n was going to cry on her first day after all.

Leah took a turn on the corridor and both women were in front of a white door, “Medical Room” written on it.

The room was fairly normal, having a couple of physios and massage tables. It looked like the place hadn’t been used today, since the tables were all made. A few Pilates objects were scattered around, making the room seem more lived in.

What really caught Y/n’s attention were the photos on the wall. Y/n took a step closer to the wall, leaving Leah behind her.

There was Kyra and Alessia smiling, both receiving massages from an older woman, whom Y/n guessed was the physiotherapist. Kim Little was right next to the girls’ pictures, wearing an air cast and using a crutch.

Vivianne Miedema and Beth Mead laying on a massage table, holding hands as they smiled for the picture. “ACL couple #1”, written just below it.

Next to it was a picture of Leah, a few years younger — maybe she was Y/n’s age — running in her arsenal kit. “Leah’s first run after ACL”, written in the same way as Vivianne and Beth’s photo.

Y/n felt her heart ached for Leah. Y/n was young, but she remembered how the football world was talking about how much Leah was trying to be back after her ACL tear during the Euros. She did everything available, every new therapy, and nothing worked. Sure, she could walk and even run for small periods of time, but Leah would never come back to football again.

Y/n wondered how Leah felt having to look at that picture every day.

“This is obviously the physio room,” Leah said, breaking the awkward silence that had formed. “I’ll email you the medical staffs ‘scheduled. if you ever need anything, you can just talk to them.”

When Y/n turned around to talk to Leah, she didn’t expect the blonde to be so close to her. Their bodies bumped together, making Y/n lose her balance and, if things weren’t bad enough, she stepped right into one of the exercise objects on the floor.

Y/n closed her eyes and waited for the impact of her head on the wall, but Leah was faster, holding her waist with one hand and her head with the other.

Y/n held her breath, feeling Leah’s torso against her, well, as much as she could considering she was wearing seven layers of clothing.

Y/n opened her eyes, meeting Leah’s gaze just for a second. Both women seemed like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hey Mary could you see my knee—”

Y/n and Leah were met with Katie McCabe, her green eyes staring at the two women in confusion.

“Am I interrupting something?” Katie said. Y/n could swear she heard teasing in the Irish women’s voice.

“What?! No, of course not.” Leah blurted, taking her hands off of Y/n’s body abruptly, if it wasn’t for Y/n year of balance training, she would have fallen again, that’s for sure. “I was just showing Y/n’s physio room, but Mary wasn’t even here so…” Leah seemed defensive now, looking everywhere but at Y/n or Katie.

“She almost fell,” Leah continued, overexplaining herself. “She tripped on this thing,” Leah lightly kicked the equipment, it was just a rubber ball. Y/n would laugh if Leah didn’t seemed so nervous all of the sudden. “You know I hate when things are left lying around.”

“Leah.”

“Yeah?”

“You are rambling,” Katie said making the blonde close her mouth.

“Why don’t you go do some manager things and I’ll finish the tour with her, yeah? It’s Y/n, right?” Katie offered her hand to Y/n, shaking it firmly. “I’m Katie.”

“Hi, yeah I’m Y/n, so sorry this is how we met,” Y/n said, looking down. “Guess I’ll just go with her, if that okay—.”

“More than okay,” Leah mumbled. “Bye, McCabe, I’ll see you at training.” Before Y/n or Katie could responded, Leah had already left the room, a frown on her face.

Katie was a way better host than Leah, showing all the places in the facility without making the young girl feel like a chore. The Irish woman couldn’t help but notice that Y/n wasn’t as happy as new players usually were when they first visited the club, so Katie asked what had happened.

“She hates me,” Y/n confessed to as soon as they get to the pitch, the last place on the tour.

“Who?”

“Leah.” Y/n mumbled “I was late earlier, and everything went south after that. I don’t know how I’m gonna get her to like me.”

Katie placed a comfortable hand on Y/n’s shoulder. “She doesn’t hate you, she is just grumpy like that, Leah doesn’t like when things don’t go the way she planned, she’ll come around.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course, it’s your first time at Arsenal, but it's also Leah’s first time as our manager. She never had a new player before; you are her first. Renée was the one handling the greetings and initial meetings with the players. Leah will understand that other people don’t always react in a way she expected.”

Y/n hoped Katie was right.

[shewrites02]

Deserve | Toji Fushiguro x Reader |

A/N: My first JJK Work on my page. It just a drabble, but if you follow me for a while this is how all my hype fixations start lol

Request : Open

Word Count : 500

Leave a comment if you enjoy ! :)

Toji knows he doesn’t deserve you. Is reminded with every sweet touch your delicate fingers place on his face. You are everything he is not. Soft. Fragile. Good. Everything the sorcerer hunter is too broken to be. Still, it never made a difference to Toji what he felt he deserved.

He made peace with the type of man he is a long time ago. The type to take with no regard for feelings or apologies. The type to leave a wake of devastation if it meant getting what he wanted.

Toji Fushiguro was not the type of man to let you go just because he knew you deserved better.

“Fuck you Toji- Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. .”

You hope to spit the words venomously, but they come off your tongue in a broken whisper. Dragging the back of your hand across your cheek to clear your tears, you take a sharp breath. An attempt to gather yourself, regain your composure. This bastard does not deserve the tears you shed on him.

“ ‘Superhuman' but can't even look me in the eyes as you reject me.”

“C’mon doll, don’t be like that. I told you I didn’t want anything serious from the beginning.”

Toji’s voice does not quiver or quake in the way yours does. Does not hold any hesitations, or uncertainties. His words are sure, certain.

Something in the conviction of his tone short circuits your brain, has you reacting before you can think. Cocking your shoulder back, you swiftly bring your palm to the sorcerer's cheek, smacking him as hard as you could.

And he lets you.

Toji has faced far tougher opponents than you, and walked away with far less wounds. It wouldn’t have taken him any effort to foil your attack. Instead his head snaps to the side, and that blank look on his face is replaced with a pained smirk. Then his eyes meet yours.

“But you acted like you did ! Begged me to open up to you- !” All composure you might have had is lost as anger and hurt bubbles over in your chest. “ Don’t act like this is my fault.”

It's difficult to breathe. Suddenly all the air so readily available is being sucked away by the presence of Toji Fushiguro. You need to get away from here. Away from him. You need air.

You turn on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Shove through the crowded racing track in search of an exit. You can’t remember where you parked, but that is okay. At this point you would walk home if it means getting away from here.

“Y/n!”

Toji’s voice echoes behind you.There’s a part of you that has to fight the instinct to stop, hearing him out, search for comfort in his words. There another part of you, a larger part that can’t be bothered to listen to any more lies from the lips of fushiguro. That part keeps your head forward, feet plowing into the pavement.

There’s a clasp on your wrist, drawing you back before you can fully cross the exit’s threshold. The grip is unyielding against your persistent attempts to escape. Fear would engulf your body if you weren’t so sure of the culprit, so knowing of the feeling of those fingers against your skin.

“Let me g-”

“It’s my fault-” He proclaims, interrupting any further protesting you had. “ Just mine.”

You hate listening to the words as you speak them. They taste bitter on your tongue. Though that doesn’t outweigh your heart’s need to know.

“Why are you doing this to me Toji- why am I not good enough?”

The soccer hunter’s eyes soften at your words. He even shrinks in on himself, as though trying to shrill up into something smaller. Something more kin to what he’s feeling inside.

“I can’t love you- not like you deserve.”

“No Toji. You just don’t love me enough to try to be what I deserve.”

If you enjoy my content or if you have $5 to spare , please consider donating it to Besan . she is a mother trying so desperately to get her family out of Gaza. She is still so far away from her go fund me goal!

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I know everyone may not have the means to donate, but if by some chance you have an extra $5 to spare please consider donating it to the families trying to rebuild their lives in the Gaza strip.

[ldydeath]

Show Must Go On | Kang Dae-sung

Summary: You and Daesung both have feelings for each other but are too stubborn to admit it. When your boss decides that a PR relationship is best for business you both worry that you're feelings might come out. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: This is my first time writing for our angel baby, Daesung. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list.

Daesung had been one of the first people you’d met when you had started coming up in the industry. With both of you becoming famous around the same time, you’d grown close rather quickly. You’d spent a lot of time with him and his band over the years, so much so that you all went hand in hand at this point. People didn’t think of them without thinking of you and vice versa. It was daunting sometimes being talked about in the same circles, but you loved your friends too much to ever distance yourself from them. 

That however, didn’t stop you from being shocked when you walked into your bosses office to see Daesung there. “Dae? What are you doing here?” He shrugged and you raised a brow at your boss as you sat down. It had been a long time since you two had been called into the office together. In fact, the last time had been when you were a lot longer and were being scolded for doing something wrong on a variety show. You wracked your brain trying to think of something, anything you’d done wrong recently as your boss began to speak. “It’s a weird time for the industry and with you two still being single we think it’s best if you do a PR relationship. At least for a bit.” You blinked, having missed all but the end of the conversation. “What? That’s ridiculous. Nobody cares that we’re single.” Daesung nodded in agreement. 

“It’s perfect timing, Daesung is doing reunion shows with BigBang, you’ve got your new album coming out. It’s a win-win if you promote each other and attend all these events together. You guys have a staged photo shoot in an hour for the hard launch.” You looked at Dae who rolled his eyes before looking back at your boss. “And we have to do this?” His voice was soft and you raised a brow, wondering why he wasn’t fighting back as hard as you were. “Yes.” Your boss leaned over, handing you both a timeline of the relationship. You snatched it from his hands before standing up to leave the room. 

As soon as you were outside the room a hand was on your arm, you looked up into the concerned eyes of your best friend, “Are you ok?” Your expression softened at his worry and you let out a sigh, “Yeah, I’m just annoyed that we have to do this.” He cocked his head to the side, dropping your arm and folding them across his chest. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like we’re not going to take this stupid schedule and make it fun.” It was a big deal, though. Over the last few months you’d started to feel things that you shouldn’t for your best friend. You weren’t so sure you could handle fake dating your best friend while you were navigating your own feelings for him. “Yeah, okay. I know we’ll make it fun, it’s just silly that they think anyone would care about this.”

—

A week had passed since the pictures of you being caught on a date had appeared online and you were eating your words. Fans from all over the world were obsessed that the two of you were dating. You were knee deep in instagram comments over a photo of your and Daesung’s hands. It was kind of funny how they could find a way the fans were playing detective over every post and story the two of you would put up. You didn’t even have to be in each other's stories for them to assume you were together. 

The agreement had been that you’d be caught out, being a little too friendly but wouldn’t confirm anything yet. This week was a week of soft launching without tagging each other, no faces, nothing just to gauge the reaction. Tonight was the big show. You two had dinner with Jiyong and Youngbae and a couple people from both of your teams, something you all did frequently but after the dinner you and Daesung would get caught kissing.

You were a nervous wreck at the thought of it. Just being around him like this the past week had you on edge. Careful not to linger too much when holding hands, or to not look at him too long when walking down the street. It was one thing for the fans to see you smitten, it was another for him to realize just how much you weren’t acting. You were so busy trying to play it cool that you didn’t realize the way his touch lingered or the fact that he never wanted to be the one to leave first. You were fighting so hard to convince yourself that there were no real feelings there that you were missing the probability that he was in love with you and afraid to admit it too.

A knock at your door broke your thoughts and you grabbed your bag. Checking yourself over one final time before plastering a big smile on your face to hide the nerves, “You ready?” Dae greeted you and you nodded. “As I’ll ever be.” You held your hand out for him to take and he laced your fingers together, your heart pounding in your chest just from holding his hand. This man was going to drive you crazy and he didn’t even know it. As if picking up on your nerves, Daesung gave your hand a gentle squeeze as he led the way to the restaurant.  

As expected the paparazzi was out, following you and your security down the street. Thankfully you only lived a couple blocks from dinner so the walk wasn’t too sketchy with your team by your side. As Daesung opened the door to the restaurant you leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek, his cheeks flushing at the touch. That was unscripted and you cursed to yourself as you let go of his hand to make your way inside. Thankfully, everyone else was already there and the cameras weren’t allowed inside. You only had to keep up appearances in case anyone got a shot of you through the window, but you didn’t have to act in front of your friends. 

“I guess I just don’t understand why you two have to be here for the kiss, it’s embarrassing.” You complained as dinner was coming to an end. Daesung's eyes flashed with a hint of hurt before covering it up with a nod his grip tightening on your leg. You didn’t see how much it was killing him, being so close to you and you shutting him down every chance you got. He should’ve told you how he felt, and now he was starting to chicken out.  “I think it’s so the world can see that we support you both.” Jiyong looked between you too as you spoke. “It’s a big deal for the Hyung to approve of his girlfriend.” He sat back smugly in his seat and you rolled your eyes at him, knowing he didn’t take that title seriously anymore. 

As you went to stand once the meal was over, Daesung kept his arm on your leg, causing you to stay seated. “We don’t have to do this, if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.” You thought maybe you were imaging things but he seemed sad as he spoke to you and you frowned, your eyes locking on him. Daesung wanted to make sure you were comfortable before anything else was to happen. He didn’t care about schedules or contracts or their boss, he only cared about you.  “I’m not uncomfortable, never with you, it’s just weird, you know?” You were projecting, nothing about kissing this man was going to be weird. You were nervous that you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings and ruin your whole friendship, but you had to do this. “Come on, once this is over we can go back to my place and watch everyone freak out in real time, it’ll be fun.” He nodded, standing up and taking your hand in his again before leading you outside.

You spotted the cameras hungry for attention, it was show time. Hugs were exchanged between you and the guys and as Daesung pulled you towards your street you leaned up, your mouth brushing his slightly. As his lips met yours, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and just as you were about to pull away, Daesung’s arm wound around your back pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He had one shot to let you know how felt, and he poured all his emotions into that kiss, hoping maybe now you’d realize how he felt about him.

You got lost in the moment, your heart doing somersaults as you kissed your best friend. Jiyong cleared his throat behind you, causing you both to freeze. “Camera’s left a bit ago.” Your eyes popped open and you turned slowly, taking in the scene. It was just the four of you and your various security standing awkwardly around you. “Right. Well, we’re going to go.” Youngbae waved and the two of them took off down the street.

When you turned back around Daesung was looking at you, his expression soft. “So I guess that happened?” He chuckled his hand finding its way to yours as he faced you fully. “Kind of like you a lot more than just as a friend these days.” His eyes were wide searching yours for any clue that you felt the same and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “Kind of feel the same about you. That’s why I was so nervous about this whole fake dating thing. I didn’t think you felt the same and I didn’t want you to realize that I’m stupid crazy about you.” 

He grinned, his eyes closing into those perfect half moons that you loved so much and it felt like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. “Starting to think this was a setup to get us to both stop being so stubborn.” He made a face, looking around as if someone was going to pop out and tell him he was right at any moment. “I’m glad though, I was too scared to tell you how I felt, and I knew today was my only shot to really show you how I felt. I think maybe we rip up that stupid contract and give dating for real a real shot.” You nodded your head at his words, leaning up to kiss him again. “Come on, let’s get you home so we can have some privacy.” He pecked your lips a couple more times before leading you down the street.  Both of you making a mental note to thank your boss and everyone else who’d been involved in setting this up for getting you to realize that you two were crazy about each other.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 21: Face The Music

So...they kissed...what's next?

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hey!! well here we are...this is the last chapter...enough talking for the moment!! enjoy this chapter! and I'll talk to you at the end!!

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

Wade tugged on his sneakers, already picturing the smug look on that one guy’s face from his usual running route. He hated running into overly enthusiastic joggers—too much pep in the morning. Why do they look so happy running? He groaned as he headed for the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His brain was still half-asleep, running on autopilot until he spotted a figure at the counter.

At first, he didn’t fully register it. The smell of coffee wafted through the air, and someone was scrolling casually on their phone. But then it hit him—Logan. Logan was standing there. Logan.

Wade froze mid-step, blinking like he’d just spotted Bigfoot sipping an espresso. For the past several days, Logan had been the definition of now you see me, now you don’t. The man had been avoiding them, but of course mostly Y/N… He’d somehow mastered the art of slipping in and out of the apartment like a shadow, avoiding even the slightest contact. And yet, here he was.

Logan didn’t even glance up from his phone, sipping his coffee like it was any other day.

“Well, well, well,” Wade drawled, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms. “If it isn’t the ghost of roommates past. Long time no see, Peanut. What brings you out of the shadows? Forgot where the coffee pot was?”

Logan’s eyes flicked up briefly, his expression as stoic as ever. “Good morning to you too, bub,” he replied, voice calm but with the faintest hint of amusement.

It was that flicker—barely noticeable but there—that made Wade narrow his eyes. Something was off. Logan looked… lighter. Relaxed, even. As if the last few days hadn’t happened.

Wade squinted, stepping further into the kitchen. “Are you… okay?” he asked slowly, his suspicion growing by the second.

Logan shrugged, setting his phone down and taking another sip of his coffee. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wade said, waving a hand dramatically. “Maybe because you’ve been pulling a Houdini act for the past week—and don’t say that’s not true!”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. If anything, he almost looked amused. That alone made Wade even more suspicious.

Before Wade could press further, soft footsteps approached from the hallway. He turned just in time to see Y/N step into the kitchen, her bag slung over her shoulder.

How was she going to react when she’ll see Logan there?! He knows it’s been hard on her. And he knows it’s mainly his fault for putting his foot in it.

What he didn’t expect was the bright expression on her face at the sight of him.

“Hey,” she said warmly, her gaze immediately finding Logan.

And that was when Wade noticed it.

The smile Logan gave her wasn’t just his usual polite acknowledgment. It was soft, warm, the kind of smile that made Wade’s jaw drop because—wait a minute.

“I just need to grab my bag, and then I’ll be ready to go,” Y/N said, her voice almost shy as her cheeks flushed slightly.

Logan nodded, his tone equally soft. “Take your time.”

Wade blinked. Blinked again. His brain struggled to process the scene in front of him. Y/N disappeared back down the hallway, leaving Wade and Logan alone once more.

Was that supposed to be normal?

“What the actual hell was that?” Wade asked, his voice flat with disbelief.

Logan didn’t answer immediately, returning his attention to his phone like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Logan,” Wade said again, stepping closer. “Explain. Now.”

Logan shrugged, as casual as could be. “We made up,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

Wade’s jaw dropped. “Made up?” he hissed, his voice rising slightly before he quickly lowered it. “What do you mean you made up? That could mean anything! Did you talk? Hug? Share a cupcake? I need details, man!”

Logan smirked, and Wade swore it was the most infuriating smirk he’d ever seen.

Before Wade could lose his mind completely, he leaned in, lowering his voice even further. “Care to elaborate? Or do I have to guess? And if you say it’s none of my business, I swear I’ll—”

Logan finally sighed, setting his phone down and meeting Wade’s intense stare. “We kissed,” he admitted.

For a moment, Wade was completely silent.

Then, in true Wade Wilson fashion, he exploded.

“WHAT?!” he whisper-shouted, his hands flying to tug at Logan’s shirt. “You kissed her? When?! How?! Was it romantic? Don’t leave me hanging here, man!”

Logan smirked again, his calm demeanor only fueling Wade’s frantic energy.

“You’re killing me!” Wade whisper-screamed, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I—I don’t even know what to do with this information! This is a game-changer, Logan! A life-changer! What do you—”

He abruptly cut himself off as Y/N reappeared, her bag now slung over her shoulder.

“Ready to go?” she asked, her smile bright and unassuming.

“Yeah,” Logan replied smoothly, grabbing his own bag and heading toward the door.

As he passed Wade, he reached out and playfully punched him in the stomach. Wade doubled over dramatically, glaring at Logan.

“See you later, Wade!” Y/N called cheerfully as the two of them left.

Still clutching his stomach, Wade straightened up, muttering to himself. “This is so not over.”

He was pacing the kitchen, muttering to himself about how life wasn’t fair and how he deserved to know more, when the sound of the front door opening made him jump. He spun around, ready to throw some sarcastic remark at whoever dared interrupt his spiraling, but his jaw dropped when Logan stepped back inside, closing the door behind him.

“Forgot something,” Logan muttered quickly, his eyes darting toward the hallway.

“Wait, what?” Wade blurted, completely thrown off.

Logan’s gaze flicked to him, and for the first time since Wade had known the guy, Logan looked... excited. Not just regular excited, but an almost boyish, slightly frantic kind of excitement. It was weird. It was amazing.

“I gotta make this quick,” Logan said, his voice low but urgent as he walked toward Wade. “I told her I forgot something, and she’s waiting for me downstairs, but—”

“But?!” Wade repeated, his hands shooting out like he was physically trying to grab the story out of Logan.

Logan hesitated for half a second, then sighed, leaning closer to Wade like they were two kids gossiping at lunch. “We kissed last night.”

Wade’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “YES!” he whisper-shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “Finally! Okay, keep going—what happened?”

Logan glanced at the door, checking for any sign of Y/N, then leaned back in. “It wasn’t just that. Before that... Mark showed up.”

The excitement in Wade’s face melted into sheer confusion. “Mark? Wait—her psycho ex? You’re kidding me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “He followed her on her way home. Pulled her into an alley. Had his hands on her—”

Wade’s eyes went wide, and his voice shot up several decibels. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

“I could’ve killed him,” Logan said, his voice low and guttural. His knuckles flexed like they were itching to throw another punch. “I swear to god, Wade, I almost did. He had his hands on her. She was crying—trying to fight him off—and when I saw that, something just—snapped. I put him against the wall, told him if he ever touched her again, I’d make sure he wouldn’t be able to crawl out of whatever hole I put him in.”

Wade stared at Logan like he’d grown another head, his mouth opening and closing in stunned silence. “...Okay, holy shit.You’re not even exaggerating, are you?”

Logan gave him a sharp look. “Do I look like I’m exaggerating?”

Wade shook his head quickly. “Nope. You look like you’re about to fight me just for breathing wrong.”

Logan exhaled hard, his shoulders dropping slightly. “I threw him to the ground. Told him to leave her alone for good. Made him repeat it before I let him crawl away.”

“Damn,” Wade muttered, his expression somewhere between impressed and horrified. “I know you’ve got the whole ‘strong, silent type with a heart of gold’ thing going on, but that’s... next level, man. Did she—”

“She was shaking,” Logan admitted quietly, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I thought maybe she’d hate me for losing it like that, but... she didn’t. She just—”

“—melted into your arms like a freakin’ romance novel?” Wade finished, clearly invested now.

Logan shot him a flat look. “She cried. I held her. Then I brought her home.”

“And then?” Wade prompted, leaning in so close it was borderline invasive.

“And then,” Logan continued, his tone softening, “we talked. Well, I talked. Apologized for avoiding her. She said she was okay... but I could tell she wasn’t… It wasn’t... planned or anything. She was heading to her room, but then she just... stopped. She turned around and came back, and then—”

“She kissed you.” Wade’s grin stretched across his entire face.

Logan’s lips twitched upward. “Yeah. She kissed me.”

“And you kissed her back,” Wade pressed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Of course I did.” Logan smirked.

Wade let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scream. “This is insane. This is incredible. You’re incredible. Oh my god, I need every single detail.”

Logan glanced at the door again, his grin fading slightly. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, already stepping toward the exit. “She’s waiting for me downstairs.”

“No!” Wade whisper-yelled, grabbing Logan’s arm. “You can’t just drop this and walk out! What else happened? What’s the plan now?!”

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. “There’s no plan. Not yet, anyway. But...” He hesitated, his voice softening. “We’ll figure it out.”

Wade stared at him for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Man, you’re killing me. This is too good.”

Logan opened the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at Wade. “Thanks, Wade,” he said simply, his tone genuine.

“For what?” Wade asked, caught off guard.

“For pushing me,” Logan said, his expression uncharacteristically earnest.

Before Wade could respond, Logan stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him. Wade stood there in stunned silence for a moment, then finally shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“Attaboy, Peanut. Atta-freakin’-boy.”

———

Y/N and Logan walked side by side down the familiar route to the school. There was a quietness between them, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… settled. A shift in the air, warm and unspoken, hummed between them—neither one daring to put it into words just yet.

Y/N glanced sideways at Logan, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked more at ease than he had in days, his shoulders relaxed and his usual tension nowhere to be found. It felt like seeing him again, after weeks of him being a shadow of himself.

“What time does your first class start today?” she asked, her voice light, breaking the quiet.

Logan turned his head slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “Eight thirty. Yours?”

“Same,” she said with a small smile. “Though my first class is probably going to be a disaster. I tried a new seating chart, and I already know they’re going to hate it.”

Logan’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

She laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. “Well, it’s too late now. Guess I’ll just have to brace for impact.”

Their conversation flowed easily, dipping into the mundane details of their morning routines and what they expected from the day ahead. The words were ordinary, but there was an ease between them that hadn’t been there before.

At one point, their hands brushed as they navigated a narrow section of the sidewalk. It was brief, barely more than a touch, but it sent a spark through them all the same. Neither of them acknowledged it, but Logan’s pace seemed to slow just slightly after that, as though prolonging the moment.

When they reached the school, the familiar buzz of students and staff filled the air. The spell of their quiet walk began to break, but the warmth lingered. Logan paused just outside his classroom, turning slightly to face her.

“Have a good morning,” he said.

“You too,” she replied, offering him a small smile.

For a moment, they lingered there, caught in the subtle pull that had been building between them all morning. Then Logan gave a brief nod and disappeared into his classroom, leaving Y/N standing in the hallway with a flutter in her chest.

———

The hours slipped by quickly, the rhythm of the school day doing its best to fill the spaces in Y/N’s mind. Yet, even amid the chaos of lesson plans, grading, and the occasional classroom disruption, her thoughts inevitably circled back to Logan.

She saw him a few times during the day—at the lounge when they both reached for the coffee pot at the same time, at the cafeteria when their eyes met briefly across the room. Each time, it was the same: easy conversation, quiet smiles, nothing really different… yet everything felt different.

Their colleagues noticed too. It wasn’t in the way they acted—after all, they hadn’t said or done anything obvious—but in the way the atmosphere between them had changed. The tension from the last few days had disappeared, replaced by a kind of magnetic ease that didn’t go unnoticed.

By the time the final bell rang, Y/N’s nerves had started to build. She knew what she wanted to do, knew that they needed to talk, really talk, about everything.

When her last student finally left, she made her way down the hall toward Logan’s classroom. The sound of her knuckles against the doorframe made him glance up from his desk, where he was packing away papers into his bag.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and even, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or curiosity.

“Hey,” she said back, stepping just inside the door. “You heading out soon?”

“Yeah, just finishing up.” He straightened, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Why?”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before finding her voice. “I was wondering if… you’d want to grab a drink before heading home. To, you know… talk.”

For a split second, Logan’s expression softened, his lips parting as though to say something. Instead, he nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”

She smiled, her heart thudding in her chest as relief and nerves swirled together. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”

———

The bar wasn’t far from their apartment, a cozy spot with dim lighting and the faint hum of conversation that made it feel both intimate and secluded. They found a small table in the corner, tucked away from the other patrons. Logan pulled out a chair for her, his hand brushing hers as she sat down, sending a ripple of warmth through her.

The server brought their drinks—beer for Logan, wine for Y/N—and left them in their little bubble of quiet.

For a moment, they didn’t say anything. Logan tapped the side of his glass absently, and Y/N traced the rim of hers with her finger. Their eyes met briefly, and both of them chuckled, the sound soft and nervous. Logan was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat softly as he glanced up at her. 

But it was Y/N who took the plunge. Her voice was steady, though her heart hammered in her chest.

“Do you regret it?”

Logan’s brows knitted slightly, and for a split second, her stomach twisted. But then he shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. “No. I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

The weight on her shoulders lifted instantly, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. A small, relieved smile tugged at her lips. “Good. Because I… I didn’t know what to think. I mean, after everything, I wasn’t sure if you…”

“If I what?” he asked gently, his eyes locked on hers.

She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the stem of her glass. “If you felt the same way.”

Logan leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “What’s ‘the same way’?”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she forced herself to look at him, to be honest. “If you… felt about me the way I feel about you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into the faintest smile, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “Then yes. I do.”

Her heart leapt, a flood of emotions washing over her all at once—relief, joy, disbelief. She let out a shaky laugh, her nerves giving way to something warmer. “This is crazy, isn’t it? That we’ve been so… oblivious. All this time, it was right there in front of us.”

Logan leaned back slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not that crazy. I don’t think I would’ve done anything about it, though. Not ever.”

The smile faded from her face, replaced by confusion. “What do you mean?”

Realizing how his words might have sounded, Logan straightened, his expression earnest as he rushed to explain. “Not because I didn’t want to. God, Y/N, I wanted to. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I could. I mean, you—you’re everything. And me… I’m just—”

“Logan—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted gently but firmly. His voice was raw now, his words spilling out like he’d been holding them back for far too long. “You’ve always been so… good. And kind. And strong. And I’ve just spent my life trying to… survive. I’ve made so many mistakes, hurt so many people, and I’m terrified of doing that to you. Of hurting you. Because you’re the last person in the world I want to hurt.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t think I deserved you. Hell, I still don’t. But when I’m with you… everything feels lighter. Like maybe I’m not as broken as I thought I was.”

The tears she’d been holding back slipped free, trailing down her cheeks. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. “Logan,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotion trembling beneath it. “Nothing anyone says—nothing you say—will ever make me feel differently about you. Not even what Victor said, or whatever you think the world might think of you. I know who you are. I’ve always known.”

His eyes glistened, though no tears fell. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that made sense.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at her, like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his lips, soft and unguarded, his eyes shining.

“I love you, too,” he said, the words coming out like a vow, like they were meant to be hers all along.

The moment hung between them, warm and full of quiet understanding.

She let out a soft laugh, the tension melting away. “So… we’re taking things slow, right? One step at a time?”

Logan smirked, leaning back in his seat. “Sure. Except, you know, we’ve already skipped about ten steps. Roommates first, coworkers second, and now…”

Y/N grinned, finishing for him, “And now this.”

They both laughed, the sound easy and light.

“We’re not exactly conventional, are we?” Logan asked.

“Not even a little,” she replied, her grin widening. “But what’s conventional anyway?”

Logan leaned forward again, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze steady on hers. “Yeah. You’re right. And for the record, I don’t mind skipping steps, as long as we end up in the same place.”

Her smile softened at his words, the vulnerability in his voice making her chest ache in the best way. “I don’t mind either.”

They sat there for another moment, just looking at each other, the silence comfortable and filled with unspoken promises. Outside, the world carried on, but in their little corner of the bar, it felt like time had slowed just for them.

Y/N glanced at her watch, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips. “We should probably head back before Wade thinks we’ve skipped a few more steps.”

Logan laughed, standing up and reaching for his coat. “He probably already thinks that.”

Y/N grabbed her bag, shaking her head with a fond smile as they headed for the door.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet but not awkward, their hands brushing occasionally before Logan finally took hers in his. She glanced up at him, her cheeks warming, but she didn’t let go.

“So,” Y/N said, glancing up at him with a playful smirk. “What’s next on the list of steps? Couple dinners? Grocery shopping?”

Logan chuckled, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Sounds thrilling. We should probably pick up a checklist, just to be thorough.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied with mock seriousness. “Can’t risk skipping any more steps.”

When they reached the apartment, the warm glow of the living room lights spilled through the window, a sign that Wade was home. As soon as they stepped inside, Wade turned from where he was sitting on the couch, his eyebrows raising.

“Would you look at that…” he drawled, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything about how you two look suspiciously happy or how your hands were totally linked when you walked in.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, slipping off her coat. “You just did, Wade.”

Wade finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine, fine. But just so you know, when you eventually tell me about this—because you will—I want to hear every detail. And for the record…” he leaned back, arms crossed. “Don’t forget my name when you send out the wedding invites. That’s all.”

Logan shot him a warning look, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Not really.” Wade grinned but stood up anyway, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he headed toward his room. “Carry on, lovebirds.”

He disappeared before either of them could respond, leaving Y/N and Logan standing in the middle of the living room.

Y/N let out a laugh, looking at Logan. “He’s never going to let this go, is he?”

Logan smirked, stepping closer and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Probably not. But I can handle him.”

She smiled, glancing down as she slipped out of her shoes. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

As she turned to leave, Logan caught her hand, spinning her back toward him in one smooth motion. The twirl was so effortless it made her laugh, but her breath caught as he leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a sweet, lingering kiss.

When they broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining.

“That was…” Y/N started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Logan murmured, his smile widening.

“OH MY GOD!”

They jumped apart, turning to see Wade standing in the hallway, his hands over his mouth, acting dramatically shocked.

“You couldn’t wait, huh? Right here in the living room, in front of God and me?”

Y/N’s face burned as she tried—and failed—to come up with a response. Logan, however, was unfazed. He ran a hand through his hair, his lips quirking into a smirk. “What are you still doing here?”

“I live here,” Wade deadpanned. “But don’t mind me. Please, continue. I’ll just… avert my eyes.” He covered his face with both hands, peeking through his fingers a moment later. “Or not.”

Logan groaned, turning to Y/N with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed, the awkward tension melting away. “Don’t be. He’s our problem now.”

Wade scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me? I’m the reason you two are even happening. A little gratitude would be nice.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go before he says something even worse.”

As they walked toward her room, Wade called out one last time. “But for real, I’m expecting a toast at the wedding! ‘To Wade, the unsung hero of this love story!’ That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I know I love it.”

Y/N laughed as Logan muttered something under his breath, his hand squeezing hers. They disappeared into her room, leaving Wade to his dramatics. But despite his antics, the warmth in his smile lingered long after they were gone.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

For once in my life, I have someone who needs me, someone I've needed so long.

Oh, someone warm like you, would make my dream come true.

XXX

A/N: because I do not want to say goodbye to this story (yet) let me tell you first and foremost, there will be an epilogue!!!!!! but officially, yes, this is the last part *insert a pic of me crying* I need to thank you guys so so much for all the love and support for this fic!!! I hadn't written a long fic like that in years and you all made me so happy when I saw you liked it!!! if you have any specific request/ideas for "spin-offs"/one shots from this story I'll gladly take them!! I love you guys so so much, and I hope you liked this final chapter! I had a really difficult time writing it but I love it that way! anyway, see you soon for more stories🫶

[jeskerthefool]

Conversations with a dead man.

[mischieviem]

People would gather, and do some formal dancing...

And they would realize…

they had misunderstood eachother...

And we're actually deeply in love...

… now THAT sounds unlikely

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Mothers of the Moon

Chapter 7 - Fondness

Masterpost

So, this is a very heavy chapter.

I was initially planning for it to be Wolfstar (and it goes very wolfstarish at the end), but at the heart of it, this is an explanation of how Minnie and Poppy wound up adopting Remus.

There’s Defo going to be more backstory, and it has also left me with questions about where I want to go with this fic! :)

TW: Mentions of abuse (physical and emotional), addiction, nightmares brought on by PTSD.

“Mum? Can I talk to you?” Remus said as he knocked the door of Minerva’s office. She glanced up at him with a smile.

“Of course, are you alright?” She asked him, a spike of anxiety hitting her for a moment. When he nodded reassuringly, the anxiety loosened, Minerva always worried and ready to protect Remus. Even if he was 16.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just-“ he dropped himself in the chair on the other side of her desk. “The nightmares have started again.” He answered quietly, Minerva’s heart dropping.

She had known that dreamless sleeping potion was a temporary fix. Everybody grew a tolerance to it eventually, but she was hoping that it was different for Remus, with his lycanthropy and all.

“How bad?” She asked.

“Pretty shitty. Sorry.” He added, glancing down at his hands. “I reckon they’ll get worse, I’m just not sure what to do.”

Minerva remembered the nightmares at their worst.

Mostly when Remus was 9 and 10, and he’d wake up in the middle of a panic attack, sobbing, absolutely falling apart in either hers or Poppy’s arms, sometimes both. It was an awful time for him, and they hated seeing him in pain. The potion had done wonders for him, and it had lasted for years, longer than it did on most.

She knew that they were just prolonging the inevitable.

“What are they about?” She asked.

“…Hope.” He admitted.

Hope Lupin.

The day Minerva and Poppy had legally adopted Remus was probably one of the most difficult days of Hope‘s life.

Lyall had walked out on Hope after the attack, after she had refused to let him give up on Remus. It had been… difficult. Poppy had always been close with Hope, Minerva the same by default, and she was a wonderful woman. She had been struggling so much after Lyall had left, turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms and leaving Poppy and Minerva to pick up the pieces, help with Remus when she couldn’t, which was a lot.

Until the breaking point.

Until she broke down in front of the two of them and begged them to raise Remus, because she couldn’t. Not in the way that he deserved.

She got to say goodbye, of course, and they promised not to deny her contact with Remus should she wish, but only if he agreed to it.

They weren’t sure about her decision to cut all contact, but she was pretty adamant about it, about screwing him up or something.

It was the fact that Remus remembered most of it that hurt him.

He had vivid memories of full moons where he was screaming and crying for his mum, who was passed out on the other side of the door, his dad shouting and punching a wall before he walked out, waking up in a strange house after a nightmare and not knowing where his mum was to comfort him for those first few nights after he had moved in with Poppy and Minerva.

He had acted out a lot in those first months, pushing Poppy and Minerva away, shouting for his mum.

It wasn’t until Poppy walked in after the full moon one morning and wrapped Remus in a blanket, pulling him into a hug, that he broke down and cried for 30 minutes straight.

That was when the shift happened. When Remus went from pushing them away and living on autopilot to acting like a kid again, eventually calling the two of them his parents, and they had never denied Remus the right to know anything about Hope and Lyall.

The nightmares had probably always been going, but 6 year old Remus opened up about them after that.

They hadn’t specifically been about Hope, before.

“Remus, honey…” Minerva rested her hand over Remus’, which was sitting on her desk at this point.

“I guess there’s just always been a part of me that thought she’d get back in contact if she… got clean, y’know?” Minerva nodded sympathetically. “And I keep having this same dream, and it’s- it’s not negative, but I hate it, I just want it to- to stop.”

“If you want to talk to me about it, you know you can, and I’ll have a chat with mum about other solutions.”

“I- it’s from the last full moon I spent at Hope’s.” He admitted quietly. “One of the ones where she came to me, after. She sat with me and told me stories for hours while she did the best she could at patching everything up, and I just remember feeling like she loved me.” Minerva watched him carefully, his eyes sliding shut for a moment.

“Remus, Hope loves you. She was struggling.”

“I know.” He said back, eyes fixed on the desk. “And I love the place I’m at now, and everything I’ve been able to do, but I don’t want to think about her. I don’t want to think about any of it.”

“Remus-“

“Because when I think of the good, I automatically start to think of the bad, and there’s so much more to think about then. Like every so often my dreams will spiral from that to the times when I was banging on the door to be let out after a moon and Hope was literally unconscious, or that time I watched Lyall slap her, and I- I don’t-“ A few tears rolled down Remus’ cheeks, which he wiped away harshly, blinking the rest back. “It happened 10 years ago, it shouldn’t still hurt.” Minerva kept her eyes on him for a moment as he composed himself. “My friends have started noticing that I’ve got a silencing charm around my bed at night.” He added. “They asked me why, and I don’t know what to say to them. I mean, they know the basics, but I- I don’t know, it was worse than I let on, and I don’t want them to be annoyed that I didn’t tell them the whole truth.”

“They’re your friends, Remus. If you don’t want to tell them, you don’t have to, but you can trust them if you do want to tell them. I’ll have a chat with mum and see what we can do about the nightmares, yeah?”

“Thanks, mum.” Remus said with a smile.

It was hard, talking to his friends.

Still, his mum was right. They knew pretty much everything about him, he could tell them.

Sirius was the one who brought it up again. They were in the dorm, sat on Remus’ bed, James and Peter out buying supplies for their next prank, as Sirius glanced at him from across the room.

“Hey, Moony?”

“Mhm?” Remus took his eyes off his book, meeting Sirius’ and ignoring the way his heart sped up. That was pretty much second nature, at this point.

“I know when Prongs brought it up, you said it was nothing, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but… the silencing charms at night, uh… I used to use them too. Before the dreamless sleeping potion.” He said quietly. “I was just wondering if you- if everything’s alright.” Remus watched him carefully for a few moments, his mum’s words replaying in his mind. He trusted Sirius.

“Yeah, I just… sometimes I get dreams- well, nightmares, really, about some of the things that happened before my mums.” He answered. “Dreamless sleeping potion doesn’t really have an effect on me, anymore, so…” Before Sirius could say anything else, Remus kept going. “It’s just- fuck, this is hard. I keep getting… nightmares, about everything that happened. About- about Hope getting slapped, or screamed at, or me trying to get out of the basement after a full moon but Hope being too out of it to open the door.” Remus added quietly. Sirius was watching him carefully, face full of empathy.

That was enough for Remus to feel guilty for keeping it from him.

“Moony…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell all of you earlier, I-“

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Remus could feel a hand in his, fingers automatically winding together, and it was like his brain had just… stopped. Malfunctioned. Maybe even run away. Sirius was holding his hand. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. If you- if you want, though, you can come and find me if it happens again. I’m a pretty light sleeper.”

“Padfoot, are you sure?”

“Of course, anything.”

A wave of fondness overwhelmed Remus then, almost immediately followed by a sinking dread settling in his stomach.

That was the moment that Remus realised he was in love with Sirius Black.

Sure, every so often he called himself ‘hopelessly in love’ with Sirius, but the term had never carried much weight, any real substance. His crush had been embarrassing at the best of times, but he hadn’t realised that love was so deep it hurt.

All it had taken was one word to make his world expand and collapse all at the same time.

Anything.

Once the world had finally stopped spinning around him, he realised that Sirius was still looking at him, whose eyes flicked to their joined hands for a moment. Remus half expected him to pull away and apologise, but instead he just met Remus’ gaze a little curiously, almost waiting to see his reaction. Remus felt his stomach drop as he tightened his grip on Sirius’ hand. Something shifted in the air between them, feeling the same as it did that time in detention.

And the bloody door opened.

He had never been so irritated at people walking into a room before, but as the two of them pulled their hands away and moved to opposite ends of Remus’ bed, he honestly wanted to murder Prongs. Something was about to happen, he was so sure of it. Not enough to bring it up again.

Fuck, he was a mess.

[almadelsur]

💋 The Secrets One Keeps

summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.

“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.

In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.

You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.

“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”

Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.

Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.

“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.

“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.

Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.

You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone. 

“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau. 

“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him. 

“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart. 

“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.

“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you. 

“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned. 

JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know. 

“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.

Boy was he mistaken. 

——————————————————————

“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.

“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.

You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.

“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.

“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.

“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”

“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.

“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”

“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.

“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.

“I fuck pogues.”

“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.

“Exactly so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”

He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.

“What's funny?” You challenged.

“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.

“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.

“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.

“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”

“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning. 

“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.

“Mhm,” You lied.

“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.

Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.

“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.

“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.

“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.

“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under. 

“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”

“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.

“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.

“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.

“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.

You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.

“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”

And fuck you he did.

——————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.

Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.

Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.

“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”

You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.

You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.

“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.

“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.

“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.

“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.

“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.

“No?”

“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.

“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.

“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”

With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.

“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.

“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.

“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.

“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.

Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.

“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.

“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”

“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.

“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“

“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj. 

Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”

“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.

Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.

She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”

A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”

With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.

“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.

“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.

“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.

“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”

“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.

“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.” 

Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.

Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.

“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.

1- You’d always share your snacks.

2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.

 3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.

Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.

“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.

JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.

[lovieku]

INTRO ⋆ 정국

you’re jeongguk’s secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift he’ll ever receive.

⋆⁺₊❅. 1/6 from christmas & chill

pairing virgin!jk x fem reader

genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time

warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything you’ve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo who’s loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well… it’s his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please don’t come for me and my traditions (it’s lich just because i’m impatient)

word count 8.3k

author’s note hello hello hello!!! i’m so nervy to post this because it’s what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe… either way you’ll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink 🩷 luv u always

banner by the talented @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

Secret Santas have become the only way you’ve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, you’re embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesn’t exactly come naturally to you.

You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.

It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.

So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.

Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeongguk’s house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those don’t usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldn’t get yours either.

But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeongguk’s space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, you’re never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.

It’s about witnessing him in his house— which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him that’s hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but can’t help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.

Over time, you’ve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.

And there’s so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeongguk’s carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseok’s jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jimin’s overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.

Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you can’t help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.

For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and who’s also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things don’t go his way. Brows furrowed, as if that’s where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.

And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasn’t fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose it— especially at you.

You’ve tried, too. You’ve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. It’s not nothing, but it’s not what you want, either.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. It’s maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.

Chiefly tonight, when you’re trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.

But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, don’t let it be Jeongguk.

It doesn’t really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered — lingered — on Jeongguk’s lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.

No, you would love to be Jeongguk’s Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think you’d be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.

Jeongguk is difficult. And not because he’s ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. He’s far from those. He’s one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasn’t clear.

What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. He’s picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesn’t, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, it’s impossible not to know. He doesn’t even try to mask his disappointment.

It’s not malicious, of course. He’s not the type to be spiteful. It’s just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.

It’s one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what he’s thinking.

And that’s why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when he’s unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.

It’s not just that he’s hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. He’s loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, there’s no arrogance about him. If you didn’t know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.

Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?

But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, it’s there. Jeongguk.

You don’t think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.

With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeongguk’s head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but you’re already prepared to go way over it if that’s what it takes to impress him.

You wonder if he’s as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesn’t hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.

For someone who’s usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?

Either way, it doesn’t look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, you’ll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.

With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeongguk’s space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.

You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, “Hey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?”

Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, “S—sure. I’ll help you, goldie.” The stammer doesn’t seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.

You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, “Cool. I’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing he’s ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesn’t get it.

gguk🤍: Oh… I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.

You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you don’t mind it most of the time. But it’s starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.

You’d thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed he’s never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.

Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and you’d assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didn’t sleep that night, and he didn’t either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.

If that hadn’t opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.

“So… Do you have any idea what to gift your person?”

Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. You’d decided to meet at a café halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.

“No, Gguk,” you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.

What would? You’re starting to think subtlety isn’t cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this café and spell it out for him.

Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.

Shaking your head, you can’t resist glancing up at him. The idea doesn’t seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, “Why should I believe you already don’t know who it is?”

He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, “Huh— I don’t—”

“You so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.”

Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, “Nerdy brain—”

“Glasses look cute on you,” that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.

You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to notice that you don’t just go around calling everyone’s glasses cute.

Sighing, you continue, “Anyways. It’s not you.”

“W—what? Is it really not?” When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, “Shoot. I was so sure I had it.”

A playful scoff escapes you, “See! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!”

“Stop calling me a nerd,” it’s a request grumbled in the most adorable way you’ve heard, and there’s no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesn’t want you to refer to him as, “Well, if it’s not me, it must be Taehyung.”

You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, “What’s the fun in knowing right now?”

Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, “I don’t know. I guess it makes me less anxious.”

It’s a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.

You don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the café’s natural heat or Jeongguk’s proximity, but you buzz with something homely.

Ariana Grande’s version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point you’re starting to believe it’s a conscious choice, but you don’t mind it.

Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe it’s just him adding that last bit.

You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, “You don’t have to be.”

Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.

Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, “By the way, I really don’t think that color would look good in my living room.”

Ugh.

You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy he’s so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?

God, as much as you want him, you hope he’s not your Secret Santa.

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.

And on Christmas Eve, he’s pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. You’re supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.

The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesn’t share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.

When you ring the doorbell he’s jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didn’t stop short at seeing you standing there.

You’re cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that he’s staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, he’s just a naturally observing guy.

And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.

When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he can’t quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, “Hi.”

It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.

Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that you’re not his Secret Santa.

But you are.

Many drinks later, filling up everyone’s stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, it’s time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything he’s caught on so far.

A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, “I’m sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. He’s not upset— far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.

But now, as the group’s attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.

When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, you’re eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes don’t follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa who’s monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.

His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something that’s supposed to be simple.

You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeongguk’s own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.

When you slowly look down at what’s resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.

Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, “What is this?”

Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, “It’s m—my gift for you.”

It’s not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is what’s making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.

You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you don’t know how else to put it, “Ggukkie… Were you there when we set the budget?”

Jimin butts in with a scoff, “Yeah, that’s like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what he should say. He’s scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jimin’s comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.

He begins, tries to, “I—”

“Fuck, Gguk,” the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think he’s showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?

But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you he’d have avoided the worries.

He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.

“These are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love them. You didn’t have to.”

Jeongguk’s head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.

He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, “I wanted to.”

Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way he’s always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.

He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesn’t know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.

He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.

They’re gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, “Can you… put them on for me?”

Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why it’s hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the spell, playful, “Oh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.”

With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, “I think it’s just you. You’re beautiful.”

You’re clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesn’t get to see you this flustered often is because he’s usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.

“Nerd.”

But no. There it is again.

That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.

He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but you’re too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those weren’t a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.

Perhaps that’s why he can’t shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. There’s nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.

Perhaps that’s also why, when the house starts to empty and you’re in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.

It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, “What— what the heck, ___!”

You’re startled, blinking up at him. It’s not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. It’s the deliberate frustration of his tone, one he’s never let free, especially with you.

You pant for apologies, but they can’t seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, you’ve even struggled to.

Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, “God. Be more careful next time.”

He’s still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess you’ve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.

He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, “Are you okay?”

Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.

He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather he’s hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, “Goldie. You’re bleeding.”

The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.

You’re lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you don’t own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. He’s back to normal once he’s in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.

All while he can’t stop apologizing, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my fa—”

“Jeongguk, it’s just a scratch.”

The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe it’s more than a scratch. Maybe it’s the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve that.”

Your first instinct is to giggle; it’s a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.

You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.

“Can you… My car is… Can you take me home?”

What you’re now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. He’s already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the night’s events, and it’s like that subtle slip of his never happened.

It’s almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn’t feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe it’s enough.

His subtle gestures — adjusting the temperature so you’re comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin — don’t go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.

God, you won’t regret what you’re about to do.

By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Huh—”

“I’ll show you my gift.”

Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, he’s a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.

His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. What’s definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.

When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, you’re tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.

He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.

That’s why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, “Are you going somew—”

“Ta-da.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s breathing. He doesn’t think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what he’s sitting in front of.

You’ve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what you’ve carefully wrapped for him. You’re a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.

He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, “What— What is this—”

“It’s my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. You’re almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.

“Fuck.”

You’ve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time you’ve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.

But it’s like you’ve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, “Oh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. I— I don’t know what to do.”

It’s a quiet plea, the one that’s hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. He’s begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that it’s what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.

He can’t help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but he’s dying to feel you.

Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more he’s forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, “You don’t have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?

“Yes, please,” the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.

He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when they’re followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.

Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, “My God. Thank you for this.”

With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, “Are you seriously thanking God while I’m about to take your virginity?

Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, “Shit, sorry. I don’t even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.”

“Ggukkie, language!” Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ll come so soon,” you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but you’ve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.

When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.

You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.

The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if you’re so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.

So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, “How long since you’ve been touched properly, hm?”

His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, “Since— Since you last did, goldie.”

You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, “You’re so sensitive, aren't you?” At the view of his exposed chest, you can’t help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now you’re sure your panties must be ruined.

“Puh— please,” the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, “I wanna touch you too.”

“Then…” You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. You’re impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, “Feel me, Gguk.”

Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.

In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he can’t help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.

Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesn’t need you guiding him. It’s his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.

Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.

Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, “Fuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.”

He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, “G—Goldie, I can’t. Don’t— Don’t wanna cum like this.”

You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, “How do you want to cum then, huh?”

He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, “Please.”

You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, “Ah-ah. Say it.”

Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, “‘Nside of you.”

“Good boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. It’s messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.

Eventually, he’s stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.

Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.

Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, “Wan’ you to kiss me, please.”

You’re ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everything— whatever he wants, however he wants it.

Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.

Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.

Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.

The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, “You okay?”

“Shit,” Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, “This is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.”

You’re not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he can’t help but kiss, even if it’s all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.

The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.

You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, “Goldie… I— I don’t think I can last any longer, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Oh, shit, baby,” one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, “It’s okay. I’m so close too.”

The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you can’t help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.

You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.

He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, “Can— Can I touch you?”

You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, “Hm, of course, pretty boy,” the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.

Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.

You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, “Always seeking my approval. You’re so good.”

The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.

You’re clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, “I’ll tell you when to cum, hm? You’ll listen to me, right?”

Jeongguk nods before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, “Y—yes. Yes, yes, fuck. I’ll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna c—cum for you.”

“You’re so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.”

His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.

You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.

Breathing in his scent, you know he’s close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, “F—Fucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.”

He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, “Cum with me, pleas— Oh.”

When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.

You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. You’re sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.

But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.

It’s your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, “This was the best Christmas gift ever.”

You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, “Oh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.”

“W—What?” His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.

When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, “Yeah. Bought you that Mario game yo—“

“Princess Peach: Showtime?”

“Yea—”

Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure it’s almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that he’s no longer a virgin, “God, I fucking love— that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.”

You can’t hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoria’s Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didn’t like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.

Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, “Well, that and a second round. What do you say?”

“Please.”

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[m0r1bund]

Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts

My comic for “Queer Compassion in 15 Comics,” a collaborative anthology that blends social science and art to illustrate LGBTQ+ experiences of compassion. You can read it online for free, or purchase a physical copy at that link :)

I was asked to write a statement about this piece, which I will share here:

There are some difficult feelings in the comic about estrangement, belonging, and cultural longing. The story didn’t click for me, though, until I started reading the stories of others in the community from the research. There’s a lot of beauty in there, but there’s also a lot of hurt. I wanted to squeeze everyone’s hands and somehow find the perfect words of comfort— and isn’t that all that anyone wants to do when they see family going through it? So I started thinking of it as a call-and-response between you, at your lowest point, and the ghosts of your ancestors. If they could talk to you, what would they say? “Look—you’re safe and fed.” “You’re alive.” “How magnificent!” “You can cry, but wouldn’t it feel better if you did it in the shower?” “Now hold my hand and walk with me.” “Take care of yourself.” “Brush your teeth.” “Text her back.” “We love you.”

It’s surreal to share this. I began working with the anthology crew in 2021, towards the beginning of my undergrad. In just under a week, I’ll be graduating. This project has been living in the back of my brain for the past three years, a source of comfort and catharsis. Now we get to inflict it on all of you, hahahaha…!! Sincerely, I feel so lucky to have been able to participate in it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who leaves their touch on this anthology— scientists, artists, interviewees, readers, and beyond.

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣ ⠀manipulative!caleb headcanons ⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: where your big brother shapes your brain as he pleases, because he knows what’s best for you and you always listen like good girls do ( > 〰 < )

tw: stepcest, manipulation, possessive, caleb is aggressive not towards reader, spit kink, mentions of smut, size kink, reader is stupid really, mentions of killing, usage of gege, kidnapping mentions, etc.

manipulative!caleb who made sure to take you to class and pick you up. every. single. day.

manipulative!caleb who woke up an hour before you had to, cooking you breakfast and putting together the outfit he wanted you to wear that day.

manipulative!caleb who kneels next to your bed, caressing your sleeping face so delicately as if you’d brake, staring at you for way too long.

manipulative!caleb who woke you up with wet kisses pressing against the soft of your skin, moving them to your lips when you started to stir awake ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

manipulative!caleb who has one of his big palms pressed against your belly (the same way he did when he slowly thrusted into you to feel the bulge in your stomach) and the other one caressing your messy hair, whispering a ‘good morning, doll’.

manipulative!caleb who helps you dress up, taking off your comfy pj’s so he could change your underwear into a fresh pair, keeping the old ones in his pocket.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “stand up for me, doll.” he said in a low tone, watching you from above as you did, noticing how you yawned and rubbed your eyes while being almost completely naked in front of him; nothing new to you two anyway.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “very good girl, now lift your legs.” he commanded again, kneeling so his eyes were directly leveled to your hips, kissing your belly and gaining a happy laugh from you, smiling at the sound.

his long fingers pulled your panties down, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs along the way before dressing you with a new pair, keeping the slightly wet ones inside his pocket, you’ve never really questioned that. he has to have his reasons, right? you know everything he does is for your own good (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶)

manipulative!caleb who’s completely devoted to you, worships you as if you were a mere goddess.

manipulative!caleb who sits you up on the kitchen counter and feeds you himself after brushing your hair and helping you do your make up, stealing kisses from you when your parents weren’t looking.

manipulative!caleb who gets on his knees once again to shoe your feet, kissing them too before doing so.

manipulative!caleb who drops you in front of your uni’s entrance, a wide smile plastered on his lips when he sees you waving at him effusively.

manipulative!caleb who doesn’t move the car an inch before seeing you disappear through the tall doors.

manipulative!caleb who enjoys scaring your friends away, mostly males. but females too. it’s a way to steam off the stress.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “you’re very quiet now, hmm? aren’t you going to whisper in my ear like you did with my sister?” he mocked, watching the man curl in pain against the alleyway dirty floor.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “what? can’t take a little punching?” caleb questioned, squatting next to him now, laughing genuinely when the young man spat blood out of his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “well, alright, let’s leave this here for now. it’s the second time i have to warn you.” he stood up, cracking his broken knuckles. “i’ll kill you if there’s a third.” he simply said, as if the words he mouthed weren’t serious.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “you wouldn’t be the first one anyway!” he spoke loudly as he walked with calm steps outside the alleyway.

manipulative!caleb who kinda manipulates your parents, too. he doesn’t want anyone suspecting anything.

manipulative!caleb who, to your parents eyes, is a very protective big brother who takes care of you since you were kids, nothing more than that.

manipulative!caleb who’s favorite time of the day is when he has to put you to sleep.

manipulative!caleb who, after showering you, feeding you dinner and tucking with you in bed, gets a little horny.

manipulative!caleb who likes to sit you on his lap in the darkness of your room, loudly kissing your lips and toying with the fat of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “hmmph, gege!” you yelped when you felt his big hands coming down you butt, holding onto his naked chest as you pouted.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　 “sorry, pips, I can’t help it.” he lied, he wasn’t sorry at all. “you know i get excited when we play like this, hmm?” caleb whispered against your lips, going for another kiss.

manipulative!caleb who likes to spit in your mouth when he makes you ride him, coaxing you to spit in his by telling you he feels thirsty and that’s the only way you could help him ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

manipulative!caleb who likes it nasty, wet and messy, and gets his way by begging you over and over.

manipulative!caleb who whispers weak ‘i love you’s when he cums inside your creamy pussy; always.

manipulative!caleb who has to sleep in his room so your parents don’t question him, jerking off with your panties wrapped around his cock again and again because you’re the only thing he can think about.

manipulative!caleb who’s life orbits around you, everything is about you, you, you.

manipulative!caleb who made up his mind and convinced himself that, when you two move out, will lock you in a room and never let you go.

you don’t need anyone but your gege ໒꒰ྀི ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ྀི১

a/n: in my mind this and the other two caleb writings i have happen in the same universe, so we’ve got possessive and manipulative big brother caleb ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა

— masterlist.

[neuvistar]

Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?

Sfw and NSFW

Like I'm brain dead for them

DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one

— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated

⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!

“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.

“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!

“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.

aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.

aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink

sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.

“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!

his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—“ “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!

your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”

⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!

you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!

“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.

"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.

he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[pathologicalreid]

with your hands tied | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try something new in bed, with a hands off approach (for you, at least)

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: super very much established relationship, explicit consent, bondage (w/ rope), sensory deprivation, softdom!spencer, sub!reader, there is a clear safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, praise kink, lowkey voice kink, aftercare word count: 3.77k a/n: writing the content warnings for smut is always a humbling experience. anyways, welcome to kinktober.

“You’re too tense,” Spencer murmurs against your neck, continuing to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along your bare skin.

You part your lips as he sucks gently just below your collarbone, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough for your brain to go fuzzy. “Am not,” you counter, leaning your head to the side in an attempt to give him a broader surface area.

He hums against your skin, sending vibrations through the entirety of your body as he leaves one more kiss before pulling away to look at you. You were propped up in his lap as if you were on display—but only for him. “You know the rules,” he says, a light warning in his voice telling you that your plans might change.

Nodding, you hold your hand up to list off the big three, “Open communication, deep breathing, and trust in your partner.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, reaching his hand up and sweeping some of your hair behind your shoulder, keeping his other hand stable on your waist.

Realistically, you wouldn’t have asked him to do this with you if you didn’t trust him. “Yes,” the answer comes easily to you as anticipation thrums through your body.

Spencer squeezes your waist reassuringly, using the pressure to garner more of your attention, “Your heart is racing. Take a deep breath for me, angel,” he instructs.

You’d approached him two weeks ago and asked if he would be willing to tie you up. You knew he liked to be the one in control, you knew he liked to show you new things, but you hadn’t anticipated him being so willing. Taking a deep breath, you seek his reassurance, “Will you walk me through it again?”

He hums in confirmation, gently sliding you off of his lap, he uses his hands to guide you to the mattress. There’s no force in his actions, barely touching you with his fingertips until your head hits the pillow. Tentatively, he takes both of your hands in his before crossing your wrists over one another and bringing them above your head, using one hand to secure your wrists while dragging the other down your side, “Once you’re ready, I’ll bring your hands up here, and I’ll tie your wrists together.”

Spencer previously explained that he wouldn’t use handcuffs on you, citing it as a personal boundary that he wouldn’t cross. He had given you a few binding options, and you chose a lavender rope. It was soft enough to avoid irritating your skin but had enough grip that a knot wouldn’t come undone the moment you tugged on the restraints. You take another deep breath.

“It won’t be too tight,” he continues, “but it’ll be enough to severely limit your range of motion.” Spencer releases his grip on your wrists but maintains his position hovering above you. “At its core, bondage is sensory deprivation. I’m taking away your sense of touch.”

You nod, confirming your understanding as you lift your hands, placing them on either one of his shoulders, “I’m giving it up to you.”

He smiles softly down at you, obviously pleased with the level of trust you’re displaying toward him. “Your heart is still racing,” he observes quietly, leaning down and kissing both of your cheeks.

Raising your eyebrows, your face warms at his observation, “I’m horny, of course my heart is racing.”

“C’mere,” he hums, dragging you back into his lap and holding your face in his hands, “What’s our safe word?”

Settling your knees on either side of his hips, you return your hands to their previous station, “Cactus.” The remarkably unoriginal word was inspired by the plant that was currently resting on your coffee table.

Spencer moves his hands, skimming his palms up and down your bare arms, “What happens if you use the safe word?”

“Full stop,” you answer dutifully, “You stop everything, and the rope gets cut.” Despite its pretty color, Spencer told you not to get attached to the binding – he’d hold no issue with grabbing the shears from your bedside table.

“What happens if I use the safe word?” His intent was for the question to be a challenge, but you know his boundaries as well as you know your own.

Shifting on his lap, you easily recall the discussion from last night, “Full stop. If you can’t release me, I can try to undo the knot on my own.”

He nods in silent confirmation before hooking his finger beneath your chin, getting you to make eye contact with him, “Are you going to try to undo the knot on your own otherwise?”

“No,” you breathe. It was for your own safety more than anything else—if you were to try to undo the knot on your own, you’d risk hurting yourself, but to Spencer, it was a trust thing. If you want him to untie you all you need to do is ask.

Dropping his hands, Spencer slips them beneath the cotton of your t-shirt, skimming his palms over your bare torso and leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Good girl.”

Your breathing hitches at his praise, unable to decide if you want to focus on his words or the way his hands are slowly making their way toward the band of your bra. Tentatively, you poke your head forward to kiss him, wanting to make sure you’re both moving at the same pace.

While you have a slight height advantage from your perch on his lap, he tips his head back so that your lips can connect, satisfying an itch that you were desperate to scratch. Spencer’s lips were always soft in a way that was unfair to the rest of the world population. You consider yourself lucky that you have them at your disposal, working against your own as he slips a hand beneath the fabric of your bra.

When your lips part at the sensation of him gently palming your breast, Spencer wastes no time in deepening the kiss, maintaining control even from his place beneath you. You whimper slightly as he pulls away, moving his hands to tug your t-shirt over your head before fiddling with the clasp of your bra.

You watch as a switch flips in his brain, pupils dilating with lust as he studies the vision of you in front of him. It didn’t matter that you’d been naked in front of him hundreds of times by now, Spencer always made you feel just as special as the first time.

Spencer reaches his hand to the side of your neck, letting his forearm rest on the slope of your breast as he takes you in, “You’re so pretty,” he coos, “My pretty girl.”

Sighing as a direct result of his words, you thumb the hem of his t-shirt, signaling to him that you want to level out the playing field before it becomes rigged in his favor. Silently, he complies, lifting his arms above his head so you can toss the fabric next to yours on the floor.

You lean forward, taking pleasure in the way your skin sits against his, the push of your breasts on his chest. Ignoring the slight tremble in your hands, you run your palms over his chest, admiring the dips and curves of his torso—taking in every part of him before he binds your arms over your head. “It’s alright to be a little nervous,” he assures you, dropping a soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

Swallowing thickly, a thought crosses your mind, “I can… Can I use my mouth on you?”

“No,” he answers almost instantly, “It’s not about me today. It’s about you.”

His response surprises you, “I just want to make sure you feel good too. If I can’t use my hands to touch you, then I want to make sure you find this uh…” you search for the right word, “Fulfilling?”

Spencer chuckles lightly, the vibrations from his chest emanating through your body like an electric current, “Trust me, I’ll find this plenty fulfilling.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you wonder if he’ll catch onto your hesitation—your desperation to be able to reciprocate your impending pleasure, but his double entendre doesn’t go over your head.

“Baby,” the softness of the pet name relaxes your shoulders, “Do you think I don’t find pleasure in sex with you?”

You shrug helplessly, “I just know you like it when I touch you.” Your hands in his hair. Shallow scratches along his shoulder blades.

Holding your chin between his index and his thumb, he guides your eyes to meet his own, “I’m going to fuck you, and while your arms are bound above your head, I’ll get a full look at the way you writhe beneath me.”

Butterflies swarm in your lower belly at his words, you have to hold back from panting in his lap.

“Fucking you is my pleasure,” he tells you, holding your face in place. “Watching you squirm below me,” he trails a finger from his free hand down your torso before letting it rest on the waistband of your shorts. “The way your cunt clenches around my cock and flutters after you come around me,” his voice deepens with want.

A pathetic moan escapes your lips at his words, causing you to clasp a hand over your mouth.

Spencer snatches your hand away, “Don’t do that. I want to hear all of the pretty little noises you make. I want you to tell me if you want me deeper or slower. I want to hear you.”

Nodding quickly, you feel more and more of your composure slip away as the damp sensation in your underwear grows. “Okay,” you breathe, keeping your eyes on his as you slide off of his lap.

He stands up, making quick work of his sweatpants before propping himself back up on the bed. Of your own volition, you lean back, letting your legs fall open as he climbs over you. You keep your eyes on him, minding the way his body moves above you, the way his cock peeks out from the waistband of his boxers.

From the moment his lips reach yours again, you know you’re a goner. Lifting your head from the pillows in order to tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, you savor the way he groans into your mouth.

In response, Spencer takes both of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours one at a time and pinning them at either side of your head. He settles his hips in between yours, adding a torturous pressure at your core.

Slowly, your hips grind up into him, it’s a mainly reactive response—your body needs the friction, the relief. Ending your kiss, a low whine bubbles in your throat, “Do you think you’re ready?”

With your hands already pinned to the bed, you let your head bob in confirmation, “Yes.”

Your eyes follow his movements as he kneels between your legs, grabbing the rope from your nightstand before taking your wrists and crossing them one over the other. “It’s soft,” you observe about the material, you’d never actually put it on your wrists before, only touching it in the store with your fingertips.

“That’s why we picked this one,” Spencer reminds you; he had been the one to encourage a softer material, wanting to protect your skin from a rough, fibrous rope. “Tug on it,” he says, leaning back and inspecting the knot.

Tugging on your binds, all you’re capable of doing is pulling your body higher on the bed, and you yelp when Spencer grips your hips and pulls you back down to him. “It works,” you squeak, suddenly conscious of how you’re splayed out for him.

He hums lowly, the soft, sensual sound causing your hips to buck, “Good,” he murmurs, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You comply, blowing air out of your nostrils as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, leaving timid kisses down the column of your throat, an exorbitantly shy action for someone who had bound you to the bed.

His head continues to make its way down your body, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across your breasts, “You’re too tense,” he tells you, an echo of himself.

Mindfully, you take a deep breath, sinking your body into the mattress and looking down at him, the saliva on your chest shining in the lamplight—he was going to be the death of you. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to do anything, baby,” he reminds you gently, “Let go. Let yourself feel it.” His thumb gently rubs circles over your hip bone, bunching up the fabric of your shorts beneath his fingerprints.

You look down at him, lying down between your legs, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh. The lovelorn look in his eyes causes your chest to tighten, and you gasp at the sensation, your face warming as you remind yourself that he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Spencer hooks his fingers on the elastic of both your shorts and your underwear, pulling any remaining fabric off of your body with a deftness that threatens to take your breath away. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, nearly licking his lips at the sight of your wetness. “My pretty, pretty girl,” he continues, pressing tender kisses up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your core.

Peeling your eyes away, you can’t bear to watch the way he peers at you through his eyelashes as he lowers his mouth to your aching cunt. “Spence,” you breathe at the sensation of his tongue licking a broad stripe through your folds and pressing a gentle kiss to your clit.

He bows his head, snaking his arms around your thighs to hold them open, stopping you from closing your legs, and without the use of your arms and your legs, you’re defenseless against his relentless movements. His tongue peeking out of his mouth just enough to tease where you’re most sensitive, kitten licking your clit until you’re panting beneath him, desperate to lift your hips from the mattress, in need of more—so much more.

You pull on your restraints, and he doesn’t stop his movements. Instead, he changes the placement of his hands, using one to massage your thigh while the other finds a home between your legs, his index finger teasing your entrance. A pathetic whine escapes from your throat as you get one step closer to the relief that you so desperately need and the relocation of his hands allows you to rotate your hips, meeting his knuckles when his finger sinks into you with ease.

“So wet,” he whispers, coming up for air and reveling in the way your mouth gapes as he adds a second finger, “So wet for me, darling girl.”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod in acknowledgment as his head drops again, puckering his lips to gently suck on your clit as his fingers work their way in and out of you. The crude, wet sounds emanating from your pussy second in volume only to the breathy moans that continue to slip through your lips.

You imagine yourself reaching your hands down, weaving your fingers through his curls, and tugging on the tendrils in encouragement, but you recall his request to hear you. Since you can’t touch him, you gasp, a small knot forming in your lower belly as he continues thrusting his fingers in and out, “Oh, god,” you choke, looking down to see his hair falling in front of his forehead. “Spence,” you whimper, eyes screwing shut as you beg for your orgasm.

A curse slips from your lips while your back arches off of the mattress, the sheet sticking to your sweat-coated skin as your orgasm washes over you, sending volts of electricity through every extremity until you come down. Vaguely aware of how his fingers continue to move inside of you, the two phalanges curling in a way that makes you shudder.

Spencer tenderly shifts your body up, relieving some of the strain on your shoulders which had become a secondary concern while he had his head between your legs.

You pant helplessly at him, “Ah, ’s too much,” you tell him, walls clenching around his idle fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to ebb.

Immediately, he withdraws his fingers and brings both of his hands up, mindful not to get his slick-covered hand near your hair, “How are you doing?”

The check-in doesn’t come as a surprise to you, and he wouldn’t do anything until he manages to wrangle an answer out of you. His brown eyes study you with a sensual curiosity as your breathing balances out, switching from the breathlessness of your peak to the gasps of desperation as you find yourself wanting more. “Good,” you answer, “That was so— fuck.”

There was something to say about the effects that losing your sense of touch had on sex, the inability to distract yourself by touching Spencer kindly forcing you to focus on nothing else but how he was making you feel. Leaving you to absorb pleasure percutaneously—this was the kind of sex people start wars over. “Do you want more?”

“Please,” you respond, maybe a tad too quickly.

His responding chuckle does horrible things to your psyche, the butterflies in your stomach coming out of their brief hibernation to flutter through your insides, “What do you want, darling?”

You sigh, “You. I want you, baby, please.”

Spencer hums in response, ducking his head to leave slow, intentional kisses on your chest, enveloping your nipple in his mouth while he brings a hand up to even out the sensation on your chest. Releasing you with a wet pop, he looks up at you with lust-blown pupils, “You have me,” he assures you. “I’m right here, where do you want me?”

Embarrassingly, a high-pitched whine makes its way past your lips—he was going to make you beg for it, and you were going to do it. “In me,” your plea comes out faster than you can control, “Please fuck me, please please.”

He groans in response, “Your fucking manners are going to be the death of me,” he tells you, moving to slip his underwear off, leaving absolutely nothing in between you as he rests his cock in between your folds. “Such a good girl,” he coos.

It didn’t help that you were beginning to feel like you were going insane, waiting for him to finally slide inside of you, “Please,” you add for good measure, the butterflies in your stomach spinning as he moves his hand out of your line of sight, tapping the tip against your swollen clit before finally breaching your entrance.

With an almost startling gentleness, Spencer cranes his head down to press a kiss to your lips. Using his tongue to part your lips, kissing you deeply, you can taste yourself on him, the sensation causing a ripple effect, your walls clenching around his shaft as he sheathes himself inside of you. “I love you,” he mutters against your lips, pulling out of you as he starts to find a rhythm.

“I— ah,” you cry out when he snaps his hips into yours, “I love you too,” you breathe, your eyelids fluttering as he seemingly finds his rhythm.

Spencer takes your thigh in one hand, pushing it up to spread you wider for him as you meet his eyes, the steady rhythm eliciting nothing but a metronome of ah, ah, ahs out of you.

Dropping his head in the crook of your neck, your boyfriend moves his free hand to play with your clit, his thumb circling around the sensitive nub as he continues to fuck you. He moans into your ear, causing your hips to involuntarily lift from the mattress, meeting his thrusts as they start to grow messy.

“’m gonna come,” you tell him, leaning your head back as the rubber band in your abdomen snaps, the pulsing of your cunt only driving him closer and closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stutter against yours, the pacing that he had so perfectly set leaving as he loses himself, hot cum painting your insides as he slows to a complete stop, letting your leg fall to the side as he pulls out of you.

A low keening sound slides from your throat as Spencer skims his hand up your side, “Spence,” you mumble, relaxing into his gentle touches.

He hums against your skin, making his way up until he’s fully sitting next to you, reaching over your head to release your arms from their silken prison. Tenderly, he takes your wrists in his hands, bringing them down gradually so that you can have time to adjust. “Are you alright?”

Spencer’s voice was a very welcome sound, his thumbs gently kneading at the indent marks on your wrists. Your head bobs in response, reaching out for him to help you sit up. The dull ache in your shoulders gave you reason to lean into him, your back against his chest while his nimble fingers found a place on your bare skin, continuing their earlier motions, this time on your shoulders.

Reaching out a hand, you grab the top sheet and pull it snugly to your torso, “Cold?” Spencer asks, his voice no more than a whisper, he presses his lips to your shoulder. “Come on, angel, words,” he beckons, the movement of his lips on your skin causing goosebumps to form.

“Cold,” you confirm, the high of your orgasms vacating your body, leaving you dependent on Spencer for body heat.

Spencer kisses the crook of your neck, “Why don’t we get cleaned up and reconvene on the couch? We’ll watch a movie,” he offers thoughtfully. “We can order in for dinner,” he says, taking advantage of your pliant state and rocking back and forth.

You sigh in his arms, “Can I pick the movie?”

“If you let me pick dinner,” he replies, pulling a throw blanket from the end of the bed and laying it over your lap. “Are you still cold?” He murmurs, a tinge of concern creeping into his voice.

Shaking your head, you adjust yourself in his arms, the tingling in your shoulders beginning to subside, “I’m lukewarm now,” you offer, smiling dazedly up at him, “I’m okay.”

He presses a soft kiss to your hairline, “You did so well,” he praises, his words threatening to melt you.

“So,” you begin, “We’re keeping the rope?”

[mostly-imagines]

I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities. 

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual. 

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still. 

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that. 

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part. 

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people. 

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to. 

“How old were you?” 

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.  

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go. 

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.” 

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up. 

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.” 

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose. 

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family. 

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.” 

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.” 

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮