#and i need to share it so i can remove it from my brain

[kermit-the-hag]

frerard hate fuck.

rayrard make love.

[quibbs126]

Also due to me waking up at about 3 AM and my bed creaking a bit too much for me to go to sleep and getting paranoid the thing would fall down, I've essentially created an OC for Transformers One in my musings

Technically they go by the name Flatline, but that's only because they're a Decepticon medic and he's the only non-Knock Out one that I know of, and I don't think Knock Out would be part of the former Elite Guard. But I also have no clue if any of this is accurate to his character, it's just the name I latched on to. So basically an OC at this point I think

Anyways, so as mentioned, he's basically the Elite Guard's medic. He was the field medic that came with them when they went to go help the Primes, and so is stuck up on the surface with them

He's basically gone crazy because he has incredibly limited medical materials to work with, having to essentially make do with things that aren't medical equipment or junk they get from raiding the odd disposal trains. He's had to lose or offline a lot of friends, and the stress of the situation and working with essentially nothing for 50 cycles has gotten to him

This situation only gets worse after the movie when their base gets destroyed by Sentinel's forces, and now he's stuck without what little he had and they're now even more homeless than before, and he's personally pissed at the new Prime for the whole situation. His anger might be quelled if Optimus at least bothered to give them medical supplies (given the movie ends literally right after their banishment, Optimus just hasn't thought about that yet)

He can do his job fine enough, he's practically a miracle doctor given the circumstances, and he can be relatively normal if there's no medical emergency. But he is very high strung and barely keeping himself together, so don't argue with him during an emergency and definitely don't complain about his handiwork, or where replacement parts came from

Due to being too stressed to care, and in previous days patching up the Thirteen if need be, he has absolutely no fear of authority or more powerful bots if they are getting in the way of his job

He's also got optical flare like Megatron because of his whole situation. Which my brain has basically also made a thing that essentially happens when a bot is overstressed/particularly volatile, and maybe just sticks around if it goes on too long

He might have a soft spot for Megatron, but mostly because he knows that Megatron is young and might also be aware he used to be cogless, so he just feels sorry for the young bot. If Megatron starts causing too many problems for the guy, he might grow resentful of him. He also is of the opinion Megatron shouldn't be leading because he's too young

And uh yeah, that's this guy, I just wanted to share. Whenever I get around to writing the next part of that fanfic, this is probably the medic you're going to see. Still probably operating under the name Flatline, but he's sort of his own thing

[aughtpunk]

That Time a Published Author Told Me to Un-Queer My Novel

So, I don't think I ever shared this story on Tumblr before.

As you may know I've spent the past ten years turning my old Welcome to Night Vale fanfic into a stand alone novel called Echo of the Larkspur. Now, I haven't been working on it ten years straight. I'd pick it up, do a bunch of editing and rewriting, submit it to agents/publishers, get turned down, put the book away, wait 2-3 years, dust off the book, re-edit and rewrite, etc etc. A cycle that repeated itself far too many times that I would like.

Well, during one of these cycles when I was in the 'get rejected by every agent and publisher I submit to' stage I asked the writing group I was in what I was doing wrong. Because at this point I had reached a hundred total rejections and I was starting to suspect that the issue was with me.

One of the members of this writing group, a male author who was traditionally published, offered to read my first chapter and give his advice on how to fix it. This was, in retrospect, a mistake. But I was desperate. I sent him the first chapter and waited for his response.

Folks. The email he sent me changed my life.

First he said that agents wouldn't publish my novel because it was Sci-fi with hardcore gay erotica in it. This is curious because while the book certainly is queer, at no point in the conversation with this man did I say it was hardcore erotica. Nor did the first chapter feature any. It's almost as if he assumed that just because something was gay, it had to be hardcore erotica. Interesting.

He went on to say that a Human/Robot pairing was weird and that there was "No Way" my story could seriously address the issues of a relationship like that. Once again, he only read the first chapter. He just...assumed I wouldn't think of that? And that my book wouldn't cover it?

The author then said “I also felt that the LGBTQ inclusion really seems to cloud things.” Direct Quote.

And then this is when he said my favorite quote of them all:

The idea of a book being a sci-fi with romance AND a mystery is a Modern Art Marzipan Owl. It's just too confusing! No one can handle a story that is a mystery in a sci-fi enviroment AND has a romantic subplot! THEIR BRAINS WOULD LITERALLY EXPLODE!

Thankfully he had a solution to my book problem. His answer? Turn the book into an Action Spy Thriller and turn S.A.G.E., a robot that identies as a gay man, into a sexy lady robot who needs a MAN to teach her what it means to be human.

(I assume the male lead will teach the 'confused' female robot how to be human via his penis.)

Now my favorite part about this advice is that at no point did he outright say "Remove the gay part". No, instead he sneakily changed the robot love interest into a female robot as if I wouldn't notice. Just sort of swept away the gay bits as something totally unneeded and just mucking up the narrative. Also that's not the plot of my story, I have no idea where this virus thing came from.

(Also note that the female robot can't be robotic-like at all. Must preserve the average straight-man sex drive at all costs I guess)

He then finished his email basically saying that I should remove everything that 'traditional publishers' don't like (aka the queer parts) and make it easier for 'your average reader' to digest and my book will be good as published!

When I said this email changed my life I meant it. Because it made me realize I'd rather be self published and unknown than traditionally publish milquetoast trash like he suggested. Like holy fuck. If I removed all of the "Difficult" to digest stories out of Echo of the Larkspur then there wouldn't be a book left!

So here I am. Self publishing my Marzipan Modern Art Owl of a book. I know it'll never see the inside of a bookstore or top the charts on Goodreads but hey, I'd rather it speak to one person than have a thousand people get excited for the part where the male lead teaches the lady robot how to be human (via his penis).

If a Queer Sci-fi/Romance/Mystery novel sounds like your jam then consider preordering it!

Looking for something to read now? Can't afford the book? Willing to read in exchange for an honest review? You can join my ARC book readers here!

[cherrybr4t]

older bf! cheol (+18 mdni)

warnings: just me projecting my daddy issues. SMUT. unprotected sex 😭, fingering and oral (f rec), praising (f rec), daddy cheol. 🫦, creampie, sub!reader, dom!cheol

older bf!cheol who’s the most dependable man in your life. he wants you to count on him completely and he’s proven to be reliable time after time.

older bf!cheol loves taking care of you — loves babying you til the end of time. often cooks for you, buys you food all the time, his number one priority is always to make sure his baby is well fed.

older bf!cheol who’s THE epitome of: yes, i know you can, but let me (!!!!!!) knows you like to prove yourself as a strong and independent woman (which u r) but he wants to do everything for you nonetheless.

older bf!cheol who loves being your number one supporter; he’s always there for whatever important event you have going on — ALWAYS. he’s standing there tall and proud, with a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers.

older bf!cheol who always leaves his card with you. wants to spoil you. takes pride in being able to spoil his princess rotten — you deserve the whole world and he will, in fact, do everything in his power to give you the world.

older bf!cheol who loves telling you how proud he is of you all the time. no matter what you’ve accomplished, he will be sure that you KNOW that.

he’ll have you seated prettily on his lap, while he hugs you, kisses your hands, down to your knuckles, and your fingertips — “you did so well baby, i’m so proud of you.” he would mutter while gazing at you with overflowing love, lips still puckering on your knuckles.

to say that had an effect on you would be an understatement. you melted like putty under his gaze, his gentle and subtle touches that felt like fire on your skin.

“you are?” the girl who was so desperately seeking for approval surfaced at that moment, and seungcheol is more than happy to go on about how happy he is for you — and how he is so proud of you, in awe of you.

“can i show you baby? how proud daddy is of you,”

you nod eagerly, already slipping into that light headspace, wanting nothing but to be praised by cheol, and to have him take care of you.

“words baby, have you forgotten? no words no reward,” cheol runs his index finger down your lips, pausing at your bottom lip to swipe his thumb over gently. his eyes hooded and dripping with raw lust as he observes the way you squirm on his lap.

“yes….daddy, show me…please,” your quiet whimpers and words altered his brain chemistry at that very moment. he loves you so much and wants nothing but to let you feel exactly how much he adores you.

older bf!cheol loves fucking you on every surface of the house, but right now, he wants to have you laid out on the bed bare for him. princess carries you to your shared bedroom. removes every article of clothing for you — leaving kisses at every area he exposes.

he swears his soul levitates every time he sees how gorgeous you look — especially when you’re looking up at him with those innocent eyes of yours. but he knows better than to think of you as innocent. knows you’re his dirty little angel.

knows you’re itching to have his cock in your mouth, like the obedient slut you always are to him. but tonight it’s all about you — and he’s going to make sure his pretty baby gets what she deserves.

“tell daddy what you need from him angel.” he urges you, hands rubbing across your thighs gently. “hmm?” he hums, head tilted and you’re about to cum for him right then and there.

“want to feel you daddy, your touch your mouth. want it all,” you breath out. he taps on your inner thigh and you immediately spread your legs wide open, propping them up on the bed for him.

“my smart little girl. you listen to daddy so well, don’t need me to remind you anymore hm?” cheol teases your cunt with his finger tip, running them across your wet hole — gushing out more slick every second — and he gathers the slick, rubs them all over your cunt.

“i’m daddy’s smart little girl—nngghh,” you push your hips up a little at his touch, enjoying his undivided attention on you.

“that you are, baby,” he dives down to give kitten licks and kisses around your clit, before going for the main course, flicking his tongue — playing with the growing bundle of nerves. he uses his tongue to spread your juices even more, before pushing his muscle deep inside your cunt and he moans at how warm your cunt feels.

“ohh..daddy, feels so good,” you moan out, hands reaching out to comb through his scalp before grabbing onto his locks.

cheol gets off praises as much as you do. so when he hears how much you’re enjoying him savouring your cunt, he goes harder, determined to outperform himself every time. he keeps his lips suctioned on your clit as his tongue moves ferociously around it. long fingers of his automatically making their way inside your warm cunt.

he pushes in slowly, enjoying the feeling of your textured walls swallowing him in bit by bit. groans around your clit as he realises how easily your pretty little cunt has managed to take two of his fingers.

he starts to massage those walls, eliciting a cry out of you. you tug on his hair harder as you feel him hitting your g-spot the more he pushes those thick fingers in.

“fuck daddy, take it daddy take it, pussy’s all yours,” you cry out, pleasure administered on both points making you lose control as you feel your thighs start to tremble.

“yeah baby, s’all mine. my smart little baby.”

“think you can cum for me baby? cum for your daddy hmm?” he pants as he starts to suck on your clit with urgency, wanting to feel you cum around his fingers.

“i’m right thereee daddy — gonna cum for you, gonna cum,” you cut yourself off as you feel your core start to twitch. letting out the final cry as you cum around cheol’s fingers.

“that’s it baby, so so good for me,”

cheol decides he’s too impatient and wants to pound you into the mattress right after making you cum. wants to see your pretty face as he makes you cum around his cock this time.

“gonna fuck you like you deserve now baby,” he slaps his thick cock on your sensitive cunt a few times. you jerk at the touch, too sensitive yet feeling insatiable.

he slides the tip in, and immediately groans as he gets reminded by how warm and tight your little cunt is. just like you, obedient and perfect. it sucks his cock in and refuses to let it go as he bottoms out.

“so—so big daddy. i love your cock so much,” you cry out, hands grabbing his wrists that are positioned on the sides of your head. his head hangs right above yours, lips bruised from all the lip biting he’s been doing. loves looking right into your eyes as he fucks you.

“fuck baby. you feel incredibly fucking good, can’t even describe it — ah fuck,” he feels your cunt clenching. doesn’t understand how a soaking wet cunt manages to grip onto his cock so tight.

“my little baby, so pretty under daddy. being filled with daddy’s huge cock.” he starts to move, pulls out his cock till the tip is left in you, before slamming it deep inside your cunt in an instant. the sounds you let out are pornographic to say the least, but cheol loves it. loves that he’s the only one that’ll ever make you feel this way.

“my smart smart baby, daddy’s so proud of you. you know that?” he tells you so softly as he holds onto your cheek so tenderly, yet his thrusts continue to get faster and rougher as his hips work like a machine.

you nod, only being able to let out hiccups of tears every time you open your mouth. loves when cheol is being a moving juxtaposition like this. so soft to you on the lips yet fucking you like he fucking means it.

“mm ‘course you knew that, my angel. you always make me proud. always are so so good. s’why you always deserve the best don’t you,” he pants out, moans at the way your cunt is gripping onto him for dear life each time he sends praises towards you.

“thank you daddy. thank you thank you,” you don’t know who or what is wiring your conscious mind right now as you get railed by your boyfriend. you’re stuck in that state of pleasure and cheol fogs up your entire mind, your entire being in the moment.

“the best girl. best angel. always the best for daddy, fuck. i love you baby,” cheol feels himself coming to a close. the thought of you is enough to drive him to the end point. and with your cunt pulsing around him like it’s about to explode anytime soon too, he knows he’s done for.

“daddyy, gonna make me cum again. can i — ngggh — cum again daddy,” you’re always so polite no matter when, it drives him crazy how you’re always his good girl.

“such a good girllll baby, yes you can cum fuck — cum for daddy yeah? gonna make daddy cum too,” he reaches out and in his usual fashion, draws tight figures around your clit to push you over the edge.

it works every time — and now your spasming around him as you feel your orgasm crashing and taking over your entire being. it feels catastrophic, yet heavenly as you cum around cheol’s cock.

“that’s it baby — cumming all over my cock like daddy’s good girl. good fucking girl,” he grunts out a guttural moan, and feels himself fall over as well.

lips on your neck as he spills his hot and thick load of creamy cum inside you. it spills and it spills till it starts to spill out of your cunt. you sigh happily as you feel your cunt so full with his warm load.

“best reward ever daddy,”

older bf!cheol starts to kiss you all over, telling you how good you did for him. he cleans you up, prepares your favourite ramen in minutes after helping you wash up.

older bf!cheol who always looks forward to this part of the day — where he gets to unwind with you, and talk about each other’s days.

need cheol so bad. need him to fix me. hah! anyways! i hope this was okay <3 feel free to comment or rb w/ any feedback if you liked it!! 🍒 muah love u guys ❤️‍🩹

perm taglist 🖤: @gyuguys @black-swan-blog27 @do-you-remember-summer-127 @mrsjohnnysuh

[sleep-0-deprived]

can i ask for the yan!roommate's reaction to the reader finding the camera in the bathroom and purposefully jacking off in front of it?

just found out about this blog and i am already hyped we need more subby yans in the world

Yandere roommate imagines (sub Yandere oc) ~!

A/N so the Yandere is just a random Oc you can imagine it as whoever I just needed a name for the fic! And you’re totally right there aren’t nearly enough sub Yandere as I’d like <33

Imagine you just got home from the gyms and all you wanna do is get into your shower you don’t have many other thoughts in your brain, you would have used the shower at the game but you have a “problem”~ between your legs and you knew you had to get home.

Imagine, you’re stripping your clothes cutting the hot water on as the mirror begins to fog up, your cock pressing to your stomach with precum oozing from the slit as you step in the shower running your fingers through your hair letting out a quiet grunt. You notice something from the corner of your eye when you’re looking up at the shower head, confused you reach for it picking it up you realize it’s a camera.

Imagine you already know who put the camera there I mean how could you not? There was only one man you knew creepy enough to wanna watch you shower and that was you’re roommate, and you know you felt a little generous you thought since you were already hard why not give him a show.

Imagine you sit the camera on a bath shelf and start speaking “I know you’re watching me Lucas” you grin as you bend down a little making sure your face was in full view as you use one hand to run down giving your pec a firm squeeze before gripping at your shaft giving one long stroke. On the other end of the camera Lucas sat in his room in the shared apartment nearly going feral when he sees your hand on your cock.

Imagine his face all red laying originally across his bed he soon gets up hurriedly trapping his laptop making sure the door was locked as he shakily grips the device for dear life feeling himself already aroused by the sight of you touching yourself, wanting nothing more than for your cock to be stuffed inside him as he rubs himself up against his matress letting out a few whines of desperation.

Imagine your hand holding your cock pointed straight at the camera giving him the perfect shot of your veins pulsing beneath your fingers while you bite at your bottom lip “didn’t know u had a total creep of a roommate, Lucas?~” you coo hazily standing in the shower the water running down your body down past your thighs with a few heaves meanwhile Lucas on the other hand wasn’t nearly as calm.

Imagine his hands fumbling with his zipper sitting the laptop on his bed as he pulls his boxers down placing the laptop on his pillows in front of his face as he drools, two fingers shoved between his lips with him laying on his stomach removing his fingers with them all coated in spit as he presses them to his rim pressing one finger in moving it in sync with your hand imagining it was your cock inside him as adrenaline fills his head making his body numb to the pleasure only becoming more infatuated with you each second as he murmurs out “y-es~” over and over.

Imagine when you cum you make sure your cock head is pointed directly at the camera lens, wanting him to see your red, angry looking tip when you climax. Your body tensing up intentionally not letting him see the face you make when you orgasm, only attempting to further tease your roommate with what he can’t seem to fully grasp hold of, which is you. “Hope you enjoyed my little show Lucas”

Imagine when Lucas sees that he’s in a whole other world of need, if he was feral before it was like he was a rabbit in the middle of heat because he pulled his hands away from himself with a little gasp while getting up not even bothering to turn his computer off, pouncing on you as soon as you make it to your bedroom with his brain all fuzzy and fast from your menacing taunts pulling your towel off.

Imagine your night ending with your roommate on top of you his thighs straddling you with his hands gripping your shoulders tightly mewling his lips all parted wide and his eyes half lidded and rolled back glossed over while he erratically lifts himself over and over again riding you harshly even when he feels like his rim is on fire from being stretched so long, you give his ass cheek a slap punching the ref handprint grumbling in his ear “this was what you wanted right?” As you hold his hip tightly grounding yourself deeper inside him pressing to his prostate roughly “then take it Lucas”

[captainadwen]

Damian Wayne vs the World

Sixteen year old Damian Wayne is on the hunt for a younger sibling. Being more discerning than Bruce 'child collector' Wayne, Damian's firm criteria for Batman's latest adoption problem includes but is not limited to: black haired, blue-eyed, tolerable humor, not evil, and most importantly - younger than Damian.

Lucky for him, fourteen year old newbie vigilante Danny Fenton is the perfect fit. Now, to fulfill his end of their deal, Damian must defeat the evil government organization hunting Danny in order to gain a baby brother.

Or, @livinghalfway your post made my brain go !! but in such a different way I figured it was better to make a separate post, hope you don't mind/enjoy still

~~

Damian Wayne re-entered Tim Drake's life like a gnat revealing itself in a closed bedroom space. Tim was in t-shirt and a boxers, maneuvering ramen into his mouth with one hand and scribbling out an epiphany on a murder case with another, when Damian's demonic dulcet voice echoed down from the ceiling. "Drake," said Damian, judgemental, "You live like this?"

Tim nearly choked on his ramen, because the day Damian doesn't attempt to murder him - however doubtfully accidental this incident might be - is the day Darkseid decides to be friends with the Justice League. "Fucking knock," Tim coughed out. "And get out. No one invited you in."

"Put better traps if you don't want me here," said Damian, dropping from the ceiling where he'd crawled in on wall-clamps.

"This is my apartment," said Tim. "It's called courtesy."

Damian sniffed. He padded around to Tim's desk and frowns at his cases, then said, with no further lead up, "I need your assistance."

"No," said Tim.

"You did not even listen to my request."

"Don't need to," said Tim. "Answer's still no. Door is that way. Bye."

"Father says mutually assisting each other is beneficial," said Damian.

"Father," said Tim sarcastically, "blamed me for you exploding a glitter bomb in the batcave two weeks ago."

"That is your fault for not being able to provide evidence to the contrary in an appropriately efficient manner," said Damian. He squinted down at Tim. "And he apologized. Eventually."

"I would not have glittered the batcomputer," said Tim. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to backup those servers? No, because you don't like tech work, you just profit off it."

"Blaming me for Father's mistake," said Damian, "Most mature of you. But we must put our differences aside. I have selected a new family member and I need you to dismantle a government organization."

That drew Tim up short. He blinked down at his ramen as though it might explain Damian's words to him, but the ramen remained disappointingly uninformative. "Repeat that," said Tim, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Slower, and with more detail."

Damian pulled out his phone and sent him an email. Silence surrounded them in the brief moment it took Tim to set aside his chopsticks and open the email. The subject line was titled 'New Baby Brother', which birthed all sorts of horrifying nightmares of Damian Part 2: Demon Child Boogaloo. The teen in the inserted picture, however, was reassuringly not in possession of Damian's bone structure.

He did have black hair and blue eyes. "Who am I looking at?" asked Tim.

"Daniel Fenton," said Damian. "He is fourteen years old, enjoys puns, and has recently awakened 'ghost powers' that allow him to transform into the vigilante Phantom to fight other ghosts."

"Is he also an orphan with a tragic backstory?"

"No," said Damian, and Tim relaxed. "But that will not be an issue. We can share custody if they cannot be removed from the picture."

"Jesus H, kid."

"I am joking, of course," said Damian blandly. "Murder is wrong."

"Ha ha," said Tim. "If he has parents already he's not joining our menagerie."

"He will," said Damian, with a smug upwards tilt of his lips. "He and I have a deal."

"So you're coercing him in addition to stalking him. Anything else you want to share with the class?"

Damian considered this query with a serious frown, which was how Tim knew this was not a flight of fancy or a very early midlife crisis (although with their lifestyle and Damian already having died before...).

"He has," said Damian after a moment, "a rogue that calls himself 'The Master of all Technology' and is a technopath." This was clearly meant to be of interest to Tim, and not to be a stereotype, but it kind of was.

"Great." Tim turned his attention back to the email the demon child sent him. He scanned through it quickly. There was apparently a secret and evil government organization dedicated to the investigation and extermination of 'ghosts' and other paranormal creatures in the world. Their latest efforts were focused on the town of Amity Park, Illinois, which was 'infested with ectoplasmic pests'. Their words, not Damian's. (It was specified in the email.)

"Okay," Tim drummed his fingers against his desk. "Before I help you defeat this secret evil government organization so that," he opened the email attachment with a contract on it and squinted at the legalese, "this poor newbie teen you've harassed into signing this joins the family in exchange."

"I did not harass him," Damian huffed. "It was a gentleman's agreement."

"Does he know that?"

"I am not a politician, Drake. I thoroughly explained the terms and legalities before presenting any contract. Now ask your question."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because," said Damian, tone implying 'you are stupid and haven't noticed something obvious, idiot'. "Father has begun saying he misses the noise around the manor and looking wistfully at old pictures."

"We still live there though?" said Tim. Damian looked flatly at him. "Sometimes."

"If you lived there frequently enough," said Damian, "you would already know Father is having...empty nest syndrome." Damian sounded disgusted. "I refuse to tolerate whatever inadequate and incompetent child he will find."

"So instead you found an incompetent and inadequate child for him?"

"Don't be stupid, Drake," said Damian. "I would not have chosen someone inadequate. Daniel is merely lacking formal training. Father can rectify this. It will keep him occupied for at least the next two to four years, which gives me enough time to find another black-haired, blue-eyed, tolerable child I approve of to be his successor and my second younger sibling." Damian paused. "Or until one of you procreates and gives him a grandchild."

"You're really serious about this," Tim whispered in horrified awe.

"I am serious about everything I do," said Damian. "Now, you will help me defeat this evil government organization so that our new sibling joins us."

"Okay," said Tim, but his mind snagged on a minor, throwaway detail, so utterly in odds with Damian 'Demonic Jealous Child' Al Ghul it surely came from another person - "Did you just call this kid your successor?"

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

the after party

fratboy!Jaehyun x f!reader

summary: Jaehyun realizes he's going to need to put some real work in to try to win you back. What, he didn't really think it would be easy to win you back, did he?

word count: 6.7k

warnings: profanity, angst, hurt, violence (a fight), drinking alcohol

a/n: THIS IS A PART 2! Read part 1, when the party's over, for context and catch up on more of my fratboy!Jae au!

dividers from strangergraphics <3

taglist! @chishiyapologist @hyunniebuns @cryingforjae @myfavoritedelusion @urlocalbeaner5 @ynzyy @seoksoop @ive-cool

Jung Jaehyun never thought he was stupid before this break up— could he even call it that? He always just figured he had one of those brains that wasn’t quite meant for academics and his strengths laid elsewhere. For a while he was able to convince himself that this was true. But then everything with you happened…

He’d gone and effectively ruined what could have possibly been the best, healthiest, most wonderful, most amazing relationship of his life just because he was a fucking idiot who didn’t know how to properly handle his feelings. Well, no, not an idiot for that reason alone, but more of an idiot because he said horrendous thing to you as a shit defense mechanism. He couldn’t chase after you, he couldn’t watch you leave, he couldn’t reach out, now, he could barely hear your name being said. He watched helplessly as the pictures of the two of you disappeared from your instagram, how one by one your friends all removed him from their following, how you blocked him, how soon enough he was like a ghost who had never even been a part of your life at all. A cautionary tale you’d one day share with your kids when you met the right man. He hated it. He hated it so much.

Every night he laid in bed, staring at his ceiling with a torturous pain in his chest that didn’t subside no matter how hard he cried, how loud he screamed into a pillow, no matter how much he drank, or how much he wrote about it. His actions, his words, the look of absolute pain and betrayal on your face haunted him unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Every time he laid down to clear his mind, there were your tear filled eyes staring at him in horror as his own voice echoed in his head, “what the fuck makes you think you’re so special?” How could he have asked you that?! How could he have spoken to you like that?! You’re the most special girl on campus, in the country, in his life, on the face of this planet! He hates himself for saying that! 

Six weeks have passed of feeling like this. Six long weeks that pass by in a very numb, dull manner. Every day without you is bleak. He misses hearing you talk, he misses kissing you, he misses just being near you. It’s too much for him. Sometimes he’ll catch glimpses of you across campus and go running over to you, ready to fall to your feet and beg for your forgiveness, but one of your friends always sends him a glare that scares him to his core. It’s enough to keep him away from you.

It’s not just your friends that don’t let him forget. Haechan doesn’t make himself shy to drunkenly shout, “Jaehyun, I hate you!” It happens at every frat party Nu Chi hosts. It’s the only time Haechan even looks in Jaehyun’s direction since everything went down. It’s the only time he talks to him or yells at him or acknowledges him. Haechan has made it very obvious whose side he took in the breakup and it’s very obviously not Jaehyun. The other guys are at least more subtle with their disappointment and disapproval. They can pretend to have conversations with him in front of his face while also simultaneously talking about him behind his back. He’s caught Johnny and Taeyong doing that multiple times. 

After 6 weeks of feeling like shit, Jaehyun decides it’s time to at least try to talk to you seriously. Maybe he doesn’t go about it the best way, scratch that, he absolutely does not, but he’s ready to try. He doesn’t want to go home for Thanksgiving break and explain to his family that he fucked up the best relationship he ever had. He’s determined to get you back if it’s the last think he does. 

Jaehyun remembers your schedule for the semester and walks over to your dorm when he knows you’ll be home. In one hand he’s got a bundle of flowers, and in the other he’s got a box of your stuff that you’d left behind. Right, so… maybe returning your stuff wasn’t the best move, but maybe it would open the door to conversation somehow. At least, that’s what he was banking on. 

He knocks, his heart pounding in his chest as he hears shuffling behind the door. There’s quick stomping behind the door and then Ari opens it. He feels disappointment just flood his body, but he keeps his smile on his face. “Hey Ari, is she uh, is she here?” 

He can hear you whisper angrily, “tell him I’m not here!”

Ari recites robotically, “she’s not here.”

Jaehyun nods slowly, shame flooding his body. You don’t even want to see him. That stings like a damn smack to the face. He clears his throat, “well, I brought her things back. I brought her some flowers too. Could you… could you tell her that I’m really sorry? I know I fucked up, but I’d really just like her to know that I didn’t mean anything I said. I would never.”

He can hear you scoff, it sounds close, you must be standing on the other side of the door and he feels his heart pound in his chest. He’s never felt like this before, so nervous and anxious of what someone might think of him. Being around you has never made him feel anxious, yet here you are, 2 feet away and he feels like a kid with a crush all over again.

“Tell him he can fuck off and that I never want to see his stupid fucking face ever again,” comes your harsh whisper. A black garbage bag lands beside Ari’s leg, “and tell him to take his shit too.” Fuck… it was one thing to imagine the level of anger you held toward him, but to hear it hurt unlike anything else.

Ari grabs the bag and thrusts it toward Jaehyun, “she said this is for you.”

Jaehyun takes the bag, feeling a sense of desperation. You’re so close, he’s right here. All he wants to do is talk. He just wants to talk to you and apologize, that’s it. He wants you to know that he didn’t mean anything he said and he would always have a special place in his heart for you. Always. 

“Sweetheart, I— please,” Jaehyun tries. 

Ari’s face pulls into what he assumes to be is a somewhat sympathetic frown, jerking the garbage bag in his direction once more, “this is your stuff.”

The painful feeling in his chest returns. A tight, burning sensation that steals the breath from his lungs and brings a pressure to his eyes. He nods silently, setting the box beside Ari’s feet before taking the bag from her hands. Very weakly he manages to get out, “these are for her.”

Ari takes the flowers, sending Jaehyun a tiny smile before he makes his way down the hall like he has many times before. He hears your door open and he turns with a feeling of bright hope. You’re going to come to him. Everything is going to be ok. He’ll get to apologize, you’ll take him back, and everything will be fine. It’s not you though, it’s just your arm tossing the bouquet of flowers down the hall in his direction. 

His heart drops. 

But he’s not giving up yet.

The next time he tries to talk to you admittedly, isn’t his best work, but it was spur of the moment! He decides to wait outside one of the buildings where your class is being held after one of his lectures ended early. He’s not proud to admit that he’s been studying the schedule of your classes that you sent him before everything went down. Actually, he’s been religiously poring over every interaction the two of you shared. He’s rereading texts, listening to songs you shared, and staring at pictures. He knows that this isn’t a class that you share with any of your friends and on these you walk home alone. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to act.

Luckily, he’s better prepared this time. He’s been thinking about his apology to you on a regular basis. He thinks about it when he showers, when he eats, before bed, during chapter meetings, in class. Every chance he gets to think about what he’s going to say, he uses to practice his words over and over again. By now, he knows the exact words he wants to say, he knows what he wants to apologize for, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he wants you.

He sits on a bench just a couple yards away from your building, anxiously twiddling his thumbs and biting his bottom lip. He thinks he must look crazy. His hair is unkempt, bags under his eyes, and his knee is bouncing anxiously,.The class starts to pour out, but Jaehyun knows well enough that you won’t be one of the first ones out of the class. You like to stay behind to clear up any amount of confusion you had, even if it was just a word you thought you misheard. He finds himself wishing it was last semester all over again when the two of you had that child development class together. God, he’d do anything to go back and do it all over again, but better this time. He wouldn’t let you slip away if he could do it again.

He wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans and stands. His heart starts to race in his chest when he sees you. You look beautiful, radiant even. The warm sun illuminates your hair, making you look like an angel right from heaven. You’re looking down at a piece of paper as you walk down the steps, right in his direction. He hates that he find himself thinking that you look even too pretty, too calm. It doesn’t look like you got your heartbroken just a month ago. You look normal, too normal while he looks like shit. 

He clears his throat and shakes that thought out of his head, exhaling to calm himself before he calls out, “Sweetheart, hey.”

Your head snaps up like someone just scared you. Your eyes are wide, spine straight, and whole body tensed. Jaehyun notices immediately that your body language tells him that you’re uncomfortable. It makes him feel sick.

Your eyes flick up to meet his but you immediately begin walking away from him. Not a word. Not more than a second of eye contact. Just walking away right away.

He starts following you, reaching out to lightly grasp your wrist, “Sweets I just want to talk. You don’t even have to respond-”

You wrench your arm from his touch and his breath catches in his throat. Your gaze is fiery and angry, but your voice is calm, “what the hell makes you think that I would allow you to speak to me again?” Your voice is angry, as is your gaze, but fuck, your eyes look so pretty. The beautiful, deep pools of what he’s discovered is his favorite color to have ever existed. His mind knows it, and his heart certainly knows it too. There’s still a connection between the two of you. Something just clicks when he looks you in the eye.

“I just want to apologize,” Jaehyun stutters, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“And you can continue wanting to do so. Maybe I’ll let you wait and stew around for four months feeling like a total dumbass like you did to me,” you bite at him. 

“Sweetheart, I’m just sorry, alright?” Jaehyun tries again, feeling desperate. It feels like he’s trying to grasp at slippery grains of sand that just keep slipping through his fingers. Why is this so difficult?

“I am too.” You reply shortly, turning on your heel and walking away before he can say anything else. He knows you don’t mean that you’re sorry about what you said during the fight. He knows that your sorry means that you’re sorry you ever wasted your time with him.

His throat feels tight, his eyes burn with unshed tears as he watches you walk away. Nothing has ever hurt as badly as this does. He doesn’t care that past hook-ups could walk by and see him about to cry, he doesn’t care that he’ll look uncool. He cares that he feels helpless, that he won’t get you back. He feels like he fucked up so badly that you might never even look in his direction again. 

But still he refuses to give up until he can actually give you the apology you deserve. He just hates that the mere sight of you makes him clam up and forget everything he had planned to say.

After the last try he starts to go a little crazy. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he had created an extra Instagram account to watch your friend’s Instagram stories. He sees how you practically glow on the screen. You look so ethereal. Like a goddess straight from Mount Olympus. He spends countless nights tapping away through countless friends’ Instagram stories. He sees how they all rally around you with dinner parties, movie nights, partying, and clubbing. In every picture, he can only focus on your face. Your beautiful face smiling so brightly at the camera like nothing horrible has happened to you. Like some dumbass with a 2.0 GPA (barely hanging on by a thread) hasn’t broken your heart and likely made you wary of any romantic interactions to come in the future. Every picture of you, every version of your smiling face, obscured with a plastic cup, covered with a sheet mask, eyes looking elsewhere, is burned into the deep recesses of his mind. How could he have ever hurt someone so beautiful, inside and out?

It’s one of the reasons why he knows you’re at a fucking Alpha Sig party tonight… looking hot as hell in a cute little crop top and your tightest jeans. He sends a mental thank you to Ari for posting a short clip of you guys taking a shot together before you dance off the burning sensation in your throat. It’s the same reason he manages to convince a handful of his own Nu Chi brothers into going to the same party with some weak excuse of fraternity relations.

That’s how he finds himself here, pressed against the wall of the Alpa Sig frat house, hoodie over his head, dead sober as he watches you dance happily with your friends. You look so happy, so carefree, like a love interest right from one of the romance movies you’d made him watch what feels like 100 years ago. Nights where he grumbled about not wanting to watch a stupid romance movie but ended up more invested than you were.

He watched you like he was stuck in some kind of trance. The colored lights flashed and strobed across the crowd of gyrating bodies in what he assumed was the living room when they weren’t partying. He watched as your hips swayed, arms raised as you move to the bone-shaking beat of the house music. He watches as Kira joins you and Ari, watches as she pushes another plastic cup into your hand, he sees how your eyes clench shut at the taste, but you don’t stop drinking whatever you have in your cup. He can’t help the way his eyes track every enticing sway of your hips, how your crop top lifts just a few inches which makes his mouth water. You don’t look inhibited by any kind of break up or broken heart like he does. He looks like some kind of sick and tired ghost summoned to ruin the vibe of the party. Where he used to attract girls like flies to a pot of sweet honey, his frankly off-putting vibe radiates off him so that the only people that can stand to be around him are his brothers that he dragged here. None of them would have ever been found dead at an Alpha Sig party if it weren’t for Jaehyun, and he would have never been found here it it weren’t for you.

He drags his tired eyes away from Yuta and Johnny’s faces, back to you. You and… who the fuck is that touching you?! There’s a random guy pressed to your back with one hand on your hip and the other on your waist, rising slowly until his hand is completely concealed by the tiny t-shirt you wear. He can see the guy dip his head down, whispering something into your ear before his lips begin to press against the slope of your neck. 

Jaehyun is moving before he can even register what he’s feeling. He’s pushing through people until he has his hands on the neck of this asshole who had the guts to touch you. And then Jaehyun’s fist is hitting this guy’s jaw. Then, the punching doesn’t stop. Not when you start to scream and beg Jaehyun to stop. Not when Jaehyun has this guy on the floor beneath him. Not when the broken skin on his knuckles starts to sting. Not when the music stops. He can’t help it, he can’t stop himself. “She’s mine you fucking asshole! How dare you?!” He yells and it feels euphoric. It feels like the only way he can get out any fraction of the pain he’s been feeling for a month and a half now. 

Four hands haul Jaehyun off the douchebag. A panting douchebag who sits up and smiles smugly at Jaehyun before calling out, “you punch like a bitch!”

Johnny and Yuta grunt while they drag Jaehyun out of the house, where the cold air of the night feels like a splash of ice cold water against his face. A refreshing feeling that lasts for only a second before you’re storming down the stairs with tears streaming down your cheeks before you’re coming at him and roughly shoving his chest. He shouldn’t feel his heart skip a beat when your hands touch him, but he does. 

You shove him again, “who the fuck do you think you are?! Huh?”

“Sweetheart, he was touching all up on you. I wasn’t going to just stand and watch it happen,” he explains while he holds his hands up in mock defense.

Your tears don’t stop, your breathing quickens, “and what if I wanted him to touch me? What makes you the all knowing genius for what I want and don’t want? Why the fuck does that matter?!”

His breath catches in his throat and the harsh feel of your hands on his chest makes him take a faltering step back, “b-but that’s not you. You don’t… you don’t do stuff like that.” He knows you don’t. You made it very clear to him when you first met that his flirting wasn’t going to get him into your pants and even when he genuinely tried, it took him weeks to get you to see that he had real feelings for you. 

“Yeah?” You breathe out, using the back of your hand to wipe away your mascara-mixed tears, “how well did my normal work out for me with you? God forbid a girl just wants to have a good time.”

He feels his ears ring, eyes widen, had he hurt you so badly that you were just going to go around and do whatever with random men? Not even random men, a fucking Alpha Sig brother?! That’s lower than low. That’s even lower than the bar he had set in hell for you.

His voice sounds broken, “have a good time with me!”

You scoff, your face twisting into one of disgust, “you’re a piece of shit, Jung Jaehyun.”

You’re turning on your heel and practically running away from him before he can respond, but this time he doesn’t just let you walk away. He’s made that mistake twice before and only idiots let the same mistake happen three times. 

He’s moving after you quickly, desperately calling out, “I’m sorry!”

Johnny is in front of him before he can get too far, too close to you. His hand is gripping the back of Jaehyun’s hoodie, preventing him from running any further. “You have to let her go right now, dude,” Johnny tells him calmly.

Jaehyun sidesteps to get around his taller best friend but Johnny won’t let that slide. He anticipates every single one of Jaehyn’s moves. Jaehyn feels his breathing speed up, he’s clutching at the front of his hoodie like the fabric is suffocating him, “Johnny, please. I have to apologize.”

“She doesn't want to hear it right now. Nothing good would come of a conversation between the two of you right now,” Taeyong adds quietly.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he turns to face his friends surround him with a wild look in his eyes, “do you guys want me to be fucking miserable forever? I need her back!”

“You fucked up, Jaehyun! Do you know that?” Johnny yells, stepping forward to shove Jaehyun roughly until he’s stumbling back. A swift smack to the back of his head follows the harsh shove.

“I know that! You don’t think that I don’t think about that afternoon on a daily basis?!” Jaehyun screams back, while rubbing the back of his head.

Haechan steps in now, who knows where the hell this kid came from, “no! You need to sit here and really think about what the hell you’ve made her go through. You let her enter a relationship with you under the pretense that you would some day become her boyfriend. The second you heard that word you became some kind of mega asshole and broke her heart.” Jaehyun goes to argue, but Haechan stops him with a hand held up, “I’m not done, dumb fuck. This apology, this little search for forgiveness to make yourself feel better doesn’t happen on your time. It will happen when and if she’s ready. You don’t get to keep cornering her and constantly fucking reminding her of the pain you’ve put her through.”

The group around them is silent, everyone listening and waiting with bated breath to hear what their suddenly-super-wise younger brother will say next, “if you choose to pull some kind of stupid shit like this on one of my best friends again, I pray that some higher power has some mercy on you, because I won’t stop beating the shit out of you until I feel like it, and I have a lot of anger I need to take out on you.”

“I’ve been there for the handful of phone calls where she cried herself to sleep, the nights where she screamed and cursed your name, and the days when finally, she started feeling better and had the strength to haul herself out of bed after you broke her heart. So yeah, I have a lot of anger toward you so if that means I whale on you for more than a day, then it happens,” Haechan shrugs as if he just said the most casual thing on the planet, “so get your head out of your ass. Stop being selfish and leave her the fuck alone.”

The group that stands on the sidewalk outside the Alpha Sig house is still and quiet, probably more than they ever have been. The weight of Haechan’s words sit heavily in the air between all of them. They know it’s true, they know Haechan is right. It’s just that none of them have had the strength to say anything because Jaehyun has been so clearly distraught after the break up. Even Jaehyun knows he needed to hear it. Haechan is right… Jaehyun hasn’t even considered if you want to see him. He’s only been acting on what he feels.

Doyoung clears his throat, breaking the silence with, “I just thought I’d let you guys know that the Alpha Sig guys aren’t going to report Jaehyun. I convinced them not to make a complaint to the dean when I reminded them how often they’re brothers have been thrown out for preying on people at our parties. You’re just banned from any Alpha Sig events for a lifetime.”

Jaehyun nods numbly, letting out a weak, “thanks, bro.” Fuck, he hadn’t even considered that he could have gotten thrown out of school or even thrown in jail! He just fucking assaulted someone! He acted on his anger and his instincts the second he saw that asshole’s hands and lips on you. 

He breaks down then, he falls to his knees with his shoulders shaking and his head in his hands. Everything is such a fucking mess! He hasn’t made any progress with you. In fact, he’s probably pushed you even further away from him. He’s basically failing all his classes because the only thing that can stay in his mind is you. You and how he hurt you and how good he had it and good he could have been having it now if he just hadn’t been a goddamn idiot! And now he just beat up one of his peers and could have been sent to jail, because once again, he acted without thinking properly!

His hands feel numb, a strange tingling sensation that spreads all the way up his fingers and into his brain as he pushes his palms against his eyelids. His shoulders shake with the force of his crying, deep, pained sobs escape his throat. He knows he has no one to blame but himself. It just hurts so damn bad. 

He recognizes Johnny’s cologne and when he pries his swollen, tear-filled eyes open he looks up to see his best friend holding him. It’s comforting, like the hug of an actual older brother. An overwhelming stench of sweat, alcohol, and strong cologne engulfs Jaehyun next. A group hug. He let’s out a watery laugh.

Johnny squeezes his shoulder, shaking him lightly, “everything is gonna work out, bro. You just gotta give it some time. Thanksgiving break is just a few days away, and a week at home will give you some time to clear your head.”

Jaehyun wipes his eyes, “you think so?”

“We know so. Just be patient, be forgiving to yourself. Be patient and let yourself process your emotions,” Taeyong adds with a gentle smile.

It’s a week until the end of the semester when Jaehyun sees you again. Two weeks since he last saw you. 9 weeks since everything went to shit. 

It’s finals week and Jaehyun has decided to refocus himself and get his grades up so he doesn't flunk out of school. He finds that his breath still hitches but his steps don’t falter like they did before. His instincts scream at him to go up to you and try to apologize again, but he doesn’t. He won’t admit that he’s genuinely scared of Haechan’s threat to beat his ass… but he is. It also helps that he got some very sage advice from his parents when he got home and poured his heart out to them. 

He sits in a chair, with his back to you as he pulls his laptop open. A half done study guide fills his screen and he finds himself smiling. A study guide, the library, you. This is how it all began. He doesn’t think he believed in signs before, but this has to be one. 

Nothing happens that day, but he finds that he’s finally alright with that. 

It’s the last night before Jaehyun leaves for winter break when there’s a knock on the door of his room. He’s in his room packing his bags to head home for the holidays. Johnny knocks on his open bedroom door, “hey bro, there’s uh- there’s someone here to see you.”

“Me?” Jaehyun asks, looking up from the clothes he’s been haphazardly stuffing in his duffel bag.

From behind Johnny, you step out and Jaehyun’s heart skips a beat. Your eyes flicker up from the hardwood floor to meet his and there’s that familiar click of just… universal correctness. You clear your throat, hands nervously fiddling in front of your body, “hey.”

“Hey,” he breathes out, the cotton in his hands dropping onto the mess of his bag.

Johnny backs away slowly, leaving the two of you alone.

It’s strange having you here in his room again. It’s not a bad strange, it feels right, but he also knows that this room holds a lot of memories for the two of you, not all of them good. The room where everything happened. The room where everything ended.

“How are you?” You ask slowly.

Jaehyun nods, a little too eagerly, “good, I’m good. You?”

“Same,” you breathe out awkwardly. The room is tense. You shake your head, before exhaling quickly, “look, I came because I don’t want to start the new year on bad terms with anybody. I owe you an apology, Jaehyun. I’m sorry I drudged up my insecurities and basically slut-shamed you again. I know we fixed it one time, so we shouldn't have had to do it twice. I was insecure and hurt I should have thought about what I said before I spoke. Even though things between us didn’t work out, I didn’t want either of us, especially you, to go into the new year thinking that I was ashamed of what you decided to do with your own body and your own time before we were even together.”

Jaehyun nods, he’s stunned. He doesn’t think you have anything to apologize for. “Th-thanks,” he stammers out.

You nod to yourself, “well, that’s all I had to say. Have a good break, Jaehyun.”

Before you turn to leave, Jaehyun’s voice comes out quietly, “can I get my apology out too, please? I’ve been needing to do this for over two months. You don’t have to accept it, you can say no, but I need to do this.”

Your eyes are wide, your body language tells him you’re clearly stunned, and nervous. Despite that, you nod, “yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, giving himself a mental pep talk before his eyes are on you again. Comfort floods his system and he begins  his apology that he’s been practicing for weeks now. “You deserve better than what I gave you. No girl deserves to go through how I treated you and how I spoke to you.”

You nod silently and he continues, “it’s not an excuse but I owe you an explanation. It’s no secret that I haven’t been in a committed relationship in a long time. It’s something that I guess I’ve forgotten how to handle. I’ve never been with anyone that made me want to be in anything committed until you. I’d been feeling nervous and insecure for months, but I didn’t know how to say that to you. I didn’t know how to tell you, the most amazing girl I’ve ever met, that I was scared that I wasn’t good enough for you. I got into my head about it, the thought had been plaguing me for weeks and the day everything went to shit… I just gave up. I didn’t try to say exactly what I was feeling and I let old habits take over. I didn’t mean anything I said and I hate that I said all of that. When it was happening I just felt like I was watching myself act like a dick and I couldn’t stop myself.”

He pauses, taking a beat to calm himself down before he starts to get anxious again, “I should have chased after you. I should have told you that it was alright for your friend to come party with us, but I was scared. I meant it when I said I haven’t been a boyfriend in a long time. I’ve been acting like the total opposite for most of my college experience. I’m the guy that girls warn their friends not to get attached to. I didn’t want that to be how we ended up. I wanted to be better for you. I still do. I should have given you time to process what happened instead of cornering you and forcing you to listen to my groveling and I sure as hell shouldn’t have resorted to violence when you weren’t doing anything wrong. Actually, I shouldn’t have resorted to violence at all.”

“I really miss who I was with you. I miss the way you made me feel. You made me feel giddy and warm and loved in a way I have never felt. What I feel for you isn’t some kind of puppy love like I felt for Hana. It’s real and I’ll be kicking my ass for the rest of my life for not telling you how I really feel. I love you and that is so fucking scary for me to admit because it’s never felt this strong or this real. I’m not saying this to try to sway you in my direction. I won’t blame you for moving on or leaving right now, but I owed you this apology. I’ve owed you this apology for months now. I’ll completely understand if you don't forgive me, I don’t think I would,” his shoulders drop, feeling an immense weight off of his shoulders, “that’s it. I’ll let you on your way now, I’ve stolen enough of your time.”

“How do you know?” He hears you ask and it’s then that he really looks at you, not just the spot over your head so he didn’t lose his train of thought. You have tears lining your eyes, shining in the overcast light that streams in through his blinds. 

He fights his every instinct to drop at your feet and comfort you. His brows pinch softly, “how do I know what?”

“How do you know that you love me?” Comes your reply, voice thick with emotion and followed by a sniffle. 

“Because no one makes me feel the way you do. Whether it’s good or bad, it’s invigorating. You’re on my mind with everything I do. I put extra effort in everything I do because I want to be better for you. Because your laugh has become my favorite sound, the color of your eyes is my favorite color, your shampoo is my favorite scent. Because my bed has felt lonely without you in it and my heart has a you shaped hole in it. When I picture my future, it’s you by my side in every single scenario that I imagine. I imagine myself cheering you on at graduation. I imagine us in our own apartment someday and I even think about stupid shit like you and I someday studying together again. You make loving seem like something less anxiety inducing like I once thought and instead make it something I regret ever fighting. Being in love with you is so damn easy because you’re the most lovely, lovable, loving person on the face of the planet and I have been lucky to discover this feeling with you.” 

You cover your mouth with your hand to suppress a sob, moving across the small space between the two of you to hug Jaehyun tightly. Your tears soak his sweats and he just holds you, letting you let out your emotions while he rubs a warm hand up and down your back. With a shuddering breath you pull away from his hold to look him in the eye, his thumbs swipe away the tears under your eyes as his hands move up to gently cup your face. “I accept your apology, Jaehyun. I…” you stop yourself, your eyes clearly reflecting the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling, “I was going to tell you that I loved you too that week when everything happened. For a week I convinced myself that I hated you but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I hated myself for still loving you even after everything you said. Love doesn’t go away easily.”

His heart soars. A life of pure joy escaping his lips as he fighting his arms around you and tuck his face into the crook of your neck, “holy shit, you mean it?”

He can feel you nod, “I do. I do mean it. But Jaehyun… I’m not going to give you a second chance if there’s any doubt in your mind about me or us. Be honest with me and tell me if you think there’s any chance that you think we won’t last.”

He meets your gaze, leaning in until his forehead meets your own. His voice is low but there’s not a shred of doubt in his voice, “I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. I will regret it until the day I die, but I also know that I am yours, completely and utterly yours until you get tired of me. I will work every day, harder than the last to earn back your trust and not only tell you, but show you how much I love you and care for you.”

“I can’t do this again if we can’t commit to each other. I won’t put myself in that position again.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to put you in that position. I want you and you alone. Give me any title you want, boyfriend, husband, fiancé. If you want me to get down on one knee in the middle of the student union if you want me to. You could call me your son for all I care. I just don’t want you to have any sliver of doubt in your mind that I don’t want this, us, to work out. I want this for this long run. I want us to be like Noah and Ally in the old folks home and the only thing we remember is each other. I want you forever,” he tells you with a bright smile. 

You laugh and his heart skips a beat, “they die at the end Jae.”

“By the time we’re old, science will have discovered a way to get us to live forever and get us to work because every government are capitalistic machines. That’s beside the point— our love is going to last forever.” 

Your smile gentles, wariness still swims in the depths of your eyes, “you know, just because you confess that you love me and apologize doesn’t mean that you’re completely off the hook. Like I need you to understand that my trust has to be earned and you have to work for it.”

Jaehyun feels a wave of relief, “I absolutely understand you loud and clear. It’s clearer than crystal.”

“Don’t make me regret giving you a second chance,”  you whisper quietly, “please, don’t make me regret this, Jaehyun.”

“I promise. I swear. I swear on my own life, and if I let you down, then I’ll let Haechan go apeshit on me like he threatened,” Jaehyun’s thumbs gently rub at the fullness of your cheeks, “so please, will you please be mine officially? Will you be my girlfriend, please?”

“Yes. Yes, I will,” you smile up at him.

His lips are on yours in the blink of an eye. Jaehyun feels like he’s going to cry, hands gently clutching at the soft skin of your jaw as he kisses you with a tender passion. His lips move against your own in a way that just feels natural, like he was made to do it. It’s never felt like this with anyone else, he doesn’t need to try it with anyone else, because he knows this is what is right. 

He pulls back with his chest heaving, a smile on his face, “I think I owe you about a million more kisses to make up for lost time and to win your trust back.”

“We have time,” you reply with a sweet smile. Fuck, he’s missed seeing that smile up close.

“No, a million kisses today. I’ve already lost like 12 hours. Let’s stop talking.”

[limerlove]

mostly sfw, gf!abby.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who cooks for you when you’re having a particular rough day. entering your shared home with tears in your eyes, a tremble to your hands you can’t quite shake. she’s there to center you from the madness going on in your brain. stopping at the grocery store on the way home and getting all the necessary measures to make one part of your day much easier.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who gives you reassuring back rubs at the end of day. her arms are so strong, so comforting, and all you want is to let them swallow you in welcomed safety. you love how it feels to be held by her. there’s not a thing in the world that can touch you when she’s holding you. it’s when you feel the most loved; being held by her.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who reaffirms when you’re not feeling the best. it’s a love language you understand and abby speaks it fluently. at the end of the day, even if hers has been draining, your girlfriend with a heart made of glistening-gold just wants you to know how much she will always love you. the bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand is certainly the cherry on top.

with a blinding light reaching her sky-blue eyes, her temple nudging with yours, as if you are her very own cathedral she finds sweet solace in. abby’s promise coats her tongue as she saturates you with tethered bliss. playfully she asks — need me to kick someone ass? and you almost take her up on the offer. as abby has before, she’s there to reassure you. “today wasn’t great but tomorrow will be better. and even if it isn’t, you always have me. my love is cemented, so intertwined with you, couldn’t remove it if i tried. not even with these big muscles.”

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who is a huge book nerd. abby would buy novels she believes you would like. any books apart of her collection she already owns she would grab a sticky note and letting the ink spill over as she marks particular parts of the novel you would like. and she wouldn’t be the girl you loved without giving you reasons why. each notation feels deeper, another intimate part of her uncovered. before abby got so bold she would not so subtly bring it up while you cuddled into her frame, the two of you seconds from slumber.

read it to me then, abs. i prefer your voice over mine, soothes me.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who travels for work, when she’s away, it’s the most difficult. the nights are a spear to your soul. abby tends to be an early riser, helps her feel more prepared, so she’s been falling asleep before the sunsets. pure exhaustion taking over her body, droopy eyes unable to keep fighting as her raspy voice whispers goodnight babygirl, i love you and she’s dead to the world. deeply, abby sinks into a dreamless sleep and immediately, you miss her. even if she’s only a few hours away, nights without her are ones wasted. so…you leave a voicemail. a small gift that you know will make her smile.

6:30 am.

abby: i love you and your sleepy voice telling me how much you love me ♡ ps. you better be sleeping right now, you sent that at four am.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who take care of you the minute she’s back. a week had been long enough and all she wants is to make her beautiful, fucking-perfect girlfriend feel just as good. sweet as strawberries, her favorite fruit to eat, she takes everything you have to offer her. when you spill on her tongue, a reward she’s been thinking about for weeks, nothing has ever felt as good as this. as golden as you.

[ditzydoe444]

big strong jason taking care of a reader who’s burnt out from college :( like she’s so smart and on top of everything that when she gets home she just wants to not think and be coddled and he’ll cuddle her and eat her out so that she can relax.

MDNI 18+

soft jason todd x reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

──────────•~❉✿❉~•──────────

jason watched as you stumbled back into your shared apartment, you kicking off your shoes hastily as your hand was placed on the wall for balance, which you were clearly struggling with. “hey sweetheart, how was class?” jason smiled softly before hugging you tightly, gently rubbing your back to ease the tension.

“just a little burnt out from the semester,” you mumbled as you snuggled into his chest, seeking warmth from the comfort of his embrace. jason let out a low chuckle, “yeah? well how about we cuddle and watch those cheesy rom com movies you love so much?” his strong arm trying to ease any tension out of your body.

jason knew how you switched your brain off when you were around him, how you were always so smart and academic at college but when you returned back home to him you were a mushy mess who demanded cuddles.

and jason was more than happy to comply, with other offers as well. he carried you to bed, his strong arms lifting you up effortlessly not wanting you to even waste energy on something as simple as walking to your bedroom. gently he placed you down, on your back whilst he separated your legs. “let me help you relax ok?” he whispered softly, gently rubbing circles on your thighs.

“let me eat this pretty cunt out,” jason pleaded as he settled in between your legs, admiring your bare cunt as he removed your panties. “it’ll be relaxing i promise.”

jason was more than determined to give you a release, after all he’s girl came to him all tired after a long day from college, how could he just sit there and do nothing?

“ok jacey, don’t edge me though,” you mumbled as the last thing you wanted was you begging him for a release. jason gave a lazy grin, “promise baby.”

and god did it work.

jason was devouring your cunt, his chin glistening from your arousal, his tongue and fingers working at a fast pace. “you always taste so damn good baby,” he groaned as his hands gripped your thighs tightly.

your mind went all fuzzy and cloudy from the pleasure, your pants filling up the room as a sheen of sweat covered your body. “jacey, fuck” you moaned as you gripped onto his hair, tugging it. “i think ‘m gonna come again,” your chest moving up and down with your pants. jason hummed, content. “come then baby, my smart girl needs to relax,” he murmured as he continued, “making a mess all over the sheets, you must be enjoying yourself hm?”

“doin’ so well, just one more then we can cuddle and i’ll order your favourite take out yeah?”

you didn’t even register what jason said until he gently nudged you, peppering your neck with wet kisses. “come back to me sweetheart, i’m not done yet.”

[wonustars]

How Deep Is Your Love?

come to me on a winter breeze, keep me warm in your love ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  pairing: wen junhui x f.reader ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  genre: established relationship, fluff, smut (R: mdni 18+) ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  wordcount: 1.5k

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ summary: jun is your biggest fan, and he'd rather spend his new years worshipping you than spend time doing anything else. ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  tags/smut tags: whipped!jun, established relationship, readers birthday is jan 1st, new years fic, birthday sex, dom!jun, sub!reader, oral (f. receiving), multiple rounds, rough sex, multiple rounds, spanking, reader is in love with jun's adams apple. ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  note: for my jumepi, @junkissed, happy birthday to the oomf that i share my one brain cell with. sharks, im giving you 100% of my company for 10 dabloons. anyways enough silly talk, happy bday jumepi i've already read your comments on the doc and this is my second time posting this lawl. love u sm my queen of huihuis, enjoy your day ♡ (ps jun's balls are non returnable to ammazon). a special thank u to @monamipencil for beta-reading, ily!

“Don’t you think we left too early?” You mutter in between gasps of pleasure. 

The vibrations flowing from Jun’s mouth are hot on your neck as he peppers kisses against your supple skin. He had no reason to stay, not when he could spend time worshiping your body. 

He couldn’t care less about his friend's protests as he rushed the both of you home, ready to give in to his most carnal desires. There was no better way than spending New Year's Day and your birthday tangled between the sheets of your shared apartment. 

As he hastily removes your outerwear and his own, he finds himself slipping into your shared routine. First your coat, then your shoes, then his, and so on… all while his large palms search for the dip in your waist. Jun grips you tightly as his lips capture yours in earnest. The universe knew what they were doing, sending you to him. How else is he meant to spend New Year's if not within your tight cunt? 

“I don’t care if the guys are mad we left early, this is your day.” Jun grunts, wrapping your legs around his torso before making his way to your bedroom. 

“This happens every year, don’t you want to spend the New Year differently?” you retort, but he can only shake his head in protest. 

“If it doesn’t include worshipping my hot girlfriend then I don’t care,” he replies, pulling back to stare at you earnestly. 

Whatever argument you had built on the tip of your tongue dies as he presses your heat against his growing member. The moan that erupts from your throat is raw and high-pitched, a melodic symphony to your boyfriend’s ears.

As the two of you reach your bed, he throws you onto the mattress, knowing how much you love it when he showcases his strength in front of you. The mere thought of overpowering you while slipping himself into your wet hole leaves his cock twitching with desire.   

“Who gave you the right to be so corny?” you snort, propping yourself on the mattress as you watch Jun discard whatever clothing he had left. 

“Like I said, I can’t help it. Gotta show my baby how much I appreciate her,” he shrugs, dipping down into the bed with you. 

His nose rubs against yours affectionately, savouring your saccharine scent. Jun is left dizzy with lust, and most importantly love. One could only hope to feel the same amount of affection he does for you. From the top of your head to the very tip of your toes, he adores everything about you. Fuck everything else, he only needs one thing, one person. 

You. 

With his mind swimming, he drowns himself in your warmth. Fingers tracing the outlines of your bare stomach, trying his best to remove your sweater from your body.

“Enough teasing, please baby,” you whine. 

Jun didn’t think he was teasing at all, but he could never deny himself of your requests. Especially when you talk with such a needy tone. 

As much as he wanted to savour every crevice of your body, he couldn’t delay himself even further. The button of your jeans unclasp, and they’re off your legs within seconds. The denim flies across the room as Jun dives back into your neck, red marks blooming in his wake. 

Your head lolls back, giving him more room to work with. While his breath is hot along your skin, Jun’s hands grip the meat of your thighs. His hands shift higher until they’ve reached the apex of your awaiting sex. 

The whine you let out causes Jun to groan in response, but there’s something more important that awaits him. Tongue sliding against your inner thighs, he indulges himself in the scent of your nectar. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit and he peppers kisses along your folds. 

“F-fuck. Oh fuck! Baby–,” your barely comprehensible blabber is cut off the moment Jun sticks his wet tongue inside you. 

Massaging your folds, he continues to play with your pussy till your legs shake around his head. Your fingers grip the root of his blond hair, his mind blank as he focuses on one thing only. 

Handprints mark your thighs from the sheer strength he’s using to hold you in place, wanting you to succumb to the pleasure, to feel it in your core. Until the very moment your juices cover his lips and chin. 

“You taste like heaven,” Jun groans from underneath you. 

“J-just fuck me. Please, wanna cum with you,” you beg. 

The breath in Jun’s throat hitches, pulling away from your sweet pussy, he sits on his heels. One hand wraps around his hardened length while the other continues to rub on your sensitive bud. Your eyes are lidded with desire, completely fucked out just for him. 

He especially loves the way your cheeks flush whenever you're in a complete state of utter lust. The simple inhale and exhale of your breath, the way it causes your chest to heave in and out. One could only be this lucky to have you as their girlfriend. Jun can’t even come to comprehend what he has done to deserve your very being, but he can at least try to show you how deeply in love he is with you. 

“You ready baby?” He asks, although he knows you simply can’t wait a second longer. 

“Mhm, I love it when you fuck me hard. Will you do it for me? It’s almost my birthday you know,” you whisper, grabbing his hand to pull him over your body. 

Jun’s eyebrows scrunch, his resolve weakened by your voice, your words. 

“Fuck yes, gonna fuck you into the next year,” he mutters before grabbing your thighs once again. 

Your hand snakes its way down between your bodies, his cock hard, pulsating with need. Jun pants above you, waiting for you to align him with your sopping hole. 

The initial push into your tight cunt leaves him breathless, Jun’s thick cock stretching your inner walls with enough force that your eyebrows furrow with a mix of pain and pleasure. Forcing himself into you completely, he begins to move in and out with swift thrusts. The tip of his dick kissing your cervix every time his hips collide with yours. 

“So f-fucking tight,” Jun practically growls, hypnotized by the way your cunt is squeezing him. He can barely breathe. 

Pushing your thighs against your chest, Jun begins to pound into you incessantly. The backboard slams against the wall in tandem with his movements. He presses into you even further, wanting you to feel him in your stomach. 

“J-Jun, fu-uck.” you moan out salaciously, your hands intertwined behind his neck. 

Your lips move to his Adam’s apple, and his groans turn into whiny pants. You’ve always known that he was extra sensitive there, his length twitching inside you while you leave sloppy kisses absent-mindedly. 

His thrusts turn erratic the more attention you pay to his Adam’s apple, and it’s not long before he’s spilling his cum inside you, rutting his hips as he fucks you through his high. 

Although Jun can feel exhaustion wash over him, he doesn’t stop fucking your hot cunt. Hands grasp at your waist, turning you over until your ass is perfectly in his line of sight. A fistful of your hair forces your back to arch, his cock still red and angry as he pushes himself inside you once more. 

“Think you can take more of my cum baby?” He mutters into your ear, tightening his grip on you. 

“I can do it, I promise. Just fuck your cum into me,” you pant before a squeal leaves your lips. Jun’s free hand slaps your ass until it’s covered in handprints. 

“Keep doing that, please. I’m gonna cum,” you beg for him again, eyes watering as you reach the apex of your orgasm. 

Jun does as you ask, slapping you till he can feel your walls clench and unclench with every strike. The flow of juices coming from your pussy coats his cock, triggering another spurt of cum to release inside your spent hole. 

Out of breath and balls emptied Jun slumps onto your back, engulfing you into a tight hug. He refuses to pull out, wanting to stay inside you forever if you allow it. He cranes his neck, the clock on the wall striking midnight. January first. 

“Happy birthday baby, I love you,” Jun whispers in your ear, kissing the nape of your neck.

“I love you too, but can you get off my back? you’re crushing me.” Your face is planted into the pillows, voice muffled. 

“Oh right, hehe sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. 

Finally pulling out of your dripping heat, he manhandles you until you're pressed up against his side—a content sigh leaving his lips. His chest blooms, bliss spreading throughout his limbs. Another year with the love of his life.

 One could only hope to be in love in the same way he is with you. 

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧  note: thank you for reading! although this is dedicated to june for her bday, i hope you enjoyed it too :) lmk what u think by leaving a comment or reblog hehe. see u soon - anna ♡

[doodlenoodleboi]

Senku l. (before & after the stone)

Headcanons, sfw,nsfw, suggestive…

Author’s note: Senku is a fictional character he is canonically 15-16 in the beginning of the series and 17-18 by season 3 not taking account for the manga which he is older. If in the future I make works on characters you deem unfitting for the roll of nsfw fiction or suggestive works of while aged up feel free to block me! Also a reminder that this is a fictional character, made up of lines/pixels. Do not waste your time writing petty hate comments which I will remove and are a waste of your life which you will not get back. I choose to be delusional about fictional characters for my own satisfaction, good day!

Word count: a lot

Before the stone

Sfw

Senku is a bit more less responsible before the stone as he is allowed to act like a kid. He often spends his time in the school lab or at home and can be seen with is small group of friends. (Taiju Oki and Yuzuriha Ogawa.)

Love and romantic relationships are something Senku has found himself uninterested in his teenage years. Dedicating himself to his craft and love for science.

You can take science away from the man but not the science from the man. (You really can’t do either)

Senku has found people conventionally attractive to a specific statistical standard but not to him personally and probably won’t ever given he doesn’t have a common attraction to physical attributes.

Though through statistics he can still find someone who he would be generally attracted to physically. Someone with glasses, makes their interests obvious ex: paint on body all the time, a lab coat or constantly wearing something of their special interest would be people he gravitates towards.

(As someone who is neurodivergent in the worst ways I think half the cast is autistic or a Shokunin if you will a person deeply dedicated to their craft.) So someone as such will attract Senku not romantically of course but they will be bound to cross paths.

There are a multitude of ways you could meet you might never meet but to keep it simple I’m going to give you a multitude of possibilities to have rot in your head.

Being apart of the school’s science club is one way always spending time with him constantly in the science room after school.

Being a dumbass needed tutoring friends with one of his friends but not with Senku directly, or competing for higher grades, a good enemies to lovers. Maybe you’re even apart of the school’s science club making you and Senku acquaintances if anything.

Senku doesn’t back down from competition when it comes to brains but quickly when it comes to fights. Being rivals to Senku is a good asset in the stone world getting you to be one of the first few people to be revived truly testing if you’re book smart (can do it in theory on paper in school) and street smart (do it for real and faster than the time given in school).

Senku was hesitant more than he ever has been getting in a relationship with you. Being shy was simply not an option for him, he thought it was a waste of time often making him coming off as stiff and blunt.

A relationship of romantic interest with Senku will never be said nor be official. He will never say he loves you or that he likes you even give he believes actions speak louder than words. If you give him time you will see through subtle ways that he is attracted to you. 

He will ask you about things that don’t matter much: like should I choose this or that color the small things…

He’ll allow you to touch his hair if your one for pda, he won’t reciprocated often at most leaning into the touch out of pure comfort. He won’t push you off understanding that this is a love language (that did take him a while to understand.)

Senku’s love language is quality time and gift giving. This is more often seen in the stone world but it expressed as well before hand even more so if you’re a science nerd along with him.

He’ll be willing to conduct experiments with you along with share materials with you which is a rare thing for him being an only child never having to share much of anything.

I believe that Senku is aroace or at the very least ace. He can still have platonic love and relationships but isn’t fond of romantic ones being in a romantic relationship from his perspective is his treating you like a best friend practically treating you like a mixture between yuzuriha and Kohaku.

Suggestive

Anything remotely romantic would have to be initiated by you and 9/10 you’re going to either get pushed off. Or he just sits there waiting for you to get over with it. Something like the (kohaku kissing Senku scene in season 3)

For your sake he has experimented once or twice before with make out sessions or kissing to get you to do something (like get you to do an experiment with him.) any kind of physical touch from him romantic wise once again if not initiated by you. 

He’s a responsible enough person to know better than to have sexual intercourse at his age nor is he interested enough to risk it not that questions about it don’t cross his mind but we’ll explore those much later down the line.

Though he’s more likely to tease you occasionally and lean his arm atop your head if you’re short. Expect this more often if you have curly hair

If you have 4c or curly hair in general he will be near you more often especially if you’re a foreigner. Have issues finding hair products for your hair type in Japan? He got you give him a couple strands of your hair next thing you know he has a whole list of products for your hair and product sample packets surrounding him.

Nsfw

Sorry there is none Senku was not interested in sexual acts before the stone nor very much after.

Though he will ask you a lot of “inappropriate questions” but i promise you he’s just genuinely curious. And he’s not trying to infer anything he promises.

After the stone

As I said Senku’s love languages are gift giving and quality time. This becomes more apparent in the stone world. If you had something you held close best believe he will try his best to make it for you. If you’re an artist he’s make brushes and paint etc…

He’s a bit kinder and softer after the stone. People he has known longer therefore care for more he unconsciously takes them on more missions with him around or in a safe space.

If he knew you before the stone you’re likely to be one of the first people out of stone. Though if not you are an important asset and he sees you for your skills and talents so be grateful for that.

If you’re a creative type expect to be paired with Yuzuriha often. A martial artist or athlete expect Kohaku and Taiju.

What Senku appreciate most is people interested in his work, he loves experimenting and explaining his process even to those a who don’t understand so please entertain him for a while if you expect at friendship let alone a romantic relationship.

People who are aroace can have relationships but they can often be on sided in the romance department. It’s not that they don’t love platonically you they just don’t know how to react to that romantically or don’t want romance.(yall can choose if Senku is aroace or not) As long as you’re ok with that your relationship with Senku will be fine. (I’ll just write him as dense to love for yall though.)

Senku if he does love you will occasionally indulge in your romantic behavior and take this a complent if it was a last resort he wouldn't be against procreating with you. (it took him a lot to admit that so you better take it.)

Romantic relationships are often seen as an inconvenience given he doesn't see the need for them and doesn't think he could would be the best fit for something like that.

He true for the most part but he is able to be in a romantic relationship. It may not be as romantic as a you like but if he has an interest in you he will unconsciously do these things. Don't expect any hand-holding and kissing though.

The only way you could get him to hold your hand is for technical reasons like you not getting lost.

Suggestive

I do agree with the fact that Senku would experiment on his significant other and I think this would be more common before the stone but in small ways.

An unexpected romantic act to see how you respond.

He will use this advantage if gen tells him you like him or something for free labor but we won’t abuse it he’s not that mean.

The only way I could see a “relationship forming” Is Senku using you for labor and “paying you” with physical touch. Kisses, hugs and stuff, he likes you platonically but as time goes on he starts experimenting with you first it’s his far will you go for each type of affection. Then it’s soon how will you react to this or that. He says it’s not you that he loves but the reaction you make like a chemical reaction in your mind. Knowing his autistic ass it might be true but the way he acts makes you unsure.

Or maybe finding a girl smarter than him would rial him up he might see you as arrival at first. You guys could be partners, he swears he doesn’t love you, but the science you create the knowledge you know, that wrinkly brain of yours.

He tends to have a love for things rather than people in a way he loves science and the things people are good at their talents but maybe not themselves, he swears but he does establish relationships with characters like Gen and Chrome as friends so I’m sure he can establish a romantic relationship if we take this route.

Then I could actually get into how Senku would “experiment” with his “friend” this would create an friends with benefits kinda situation but it’s not like Senku sees it like that he just doesn’t have time for labels and probably wouldn’t care about it. Just don’t call him pet names because he doesn’t like it. The relationship would be private so the villagers don’t make a fuss, for as far was that would last with Gen around.

NSFW - ish

Let’s talk about Senku’s experiments

Of course you consented to this but you might know what your getting into 100%

It’s basically just a very handsy check up while he asks you questions you may or may not be able to answer.

Ex: “Are your breast sensitive? There is a high concentration of nerve endings present in that area, making them one of the most sensitive parts of the body. While he’s over here playing with them in every way imaginable. He’s going to continue to do this for every inch of your body and take an analysis writing how painful each part is and or sensitive.

So I’ll let you guys imagine that

Thank you for reading!!

[you-know-honey]

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

[reiderwriter]

Puppet On A String

Chapter One of I Can't Help Myself

Synopsis: Expecting your big promotion any day, you're none too happy to hear about the departments miraculous new hire. You're even less happy when he moves into your office and starts touching things.

Warnings: Shitty office politics, brief allusions to Spencer's time in prison, swearing, reader is understandably bitter.

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

The day your professional aspirations came to a crashing halt was also the day that you met Doctor Spencer Reid. To say that your view of him was somewhat soured by the unpleasant circumstances of your morning meeting was an understatement and a half.

Sitting in your bosses stuffy work office, you felt your heart stop as the situation was explained.

“You understand, right, Y/N? We really value your work here, so we're really relying on you to help him settle in.” He grinned at you from behind his desk, but all friendliness in the gesture was dampened by the fact that he hadn't even bothered to look up from the papers he was looking through, glasses hanging low on his nose.

“I'm trying to understand, I am. But last week, we discussed me moving onto the tenure track. Are you saying that's out of the picture for me now?”

The smile turned into a grimace as he looked up at you, finally. He removed his glasses and folded them in front of him as you squirmed in your seat. You needed to advocate for yourself, but it wasn't easy when it felt like you were in the principals office being reprimanded.

“Doctor Spencer Reid will be joining us on loan from the FBI. Someone at the Bureau called in a favour with one of the college executives. The decision is above my pay grade - thus it is above yours.”

Your cheeks felt hot as he reprimanded you, and you bit your tongue as best you could.

“He will be with us for the semester, and then we can discuss your promotion again next semester. I will ask again, you understand the situation?”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken - the department wide email introducing your new member of staff and the generous donation from the FBI that came with him. You brought nothing to the department other than a stellar academic record and hard work.

“I'm glad we could both come to an understanding,” he said, aptly dismissing you as you stood to take your leave.

“Ah, one last thing, Y/N,” he said, stopping you in your tracks as you readied yourself to run to the nearest bathroom stall and cry until your first class - roughly 7 and a half minutes.

“Doctor Reid will be sharing your temporary office space. We're strapped for space, and there weren't any other facilities available at the last minute. Since your students always remark on how approachable and welcoming you are, you're the best person to show him around, too.”

The gloom in your heart hardened to anger as the man dismissed you, returning his glasses to his head and not bothering to make eye contact as he added more work to your already heavy load.

“Of course. Thank you.”

You closed the door behind you, willing yourself to not slam it, and stalked down the corridor to your own - now communal - office.

Half of your brain was screaming at you to quit, but with rent in a college town to pay, and the academic year already in session, there was no way you were finding something this lucrative again.

You'd worked your ass off for the last five months. You just had to survive three more with Doctor Spencer Reid.

You had to keep your emotions in control until at least your office, you thought, even as the inescapable tears threatened to fall down your face. You hate that you cried when you were angry, that your emotions couldn't even sort themselves out enough to give appropriate physical responses, but at least you could angry-cry in peace before your new coworker showed up.

You ripped open the door and stomped to your desk, slamming the door shut behind you as you fell down with your head in your hands and let out a frustrated groan.

“Um… hello, can I help you?”

The voice caught you so off guard, you almost jumped from your seat in shock, backing up to the single window in the office.

“Fuck, you scared the hell out of me. What- who are you?” You asked the man you now saw sitting at the sofa opposite your desk, next the door. So close in fact, that you didn't see him walking in.

He was sat down, but you could tell he was tall, slightly older than you, but with big brown eyes that betrayed some experience. He sat comfortably at first, legs crossed, book in hand, but as you spoke, he sat straighter, stiffer, his relaxed expression becoming somewhat colder.

“I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. I was told this is my office from today onwards? If I'm incorrect, I can leave you to your…”

Of course, the very attractive, soft-spoken man in front of you just happened to be the derailment of your career. Temporary, you reminded yourself. Temporary derailment.

“No. Doctor Reid, of course. Hello. I'm Y/N. We'll be sharing the office for the semester, I just didn't know you'd be here today.”

He frowned slightly, like sharing the space was as uncomfortable with him as it was with you.

“If you can excuse me, I have a class to teach in…” You looked to the shelves where your small clock had fallen over once again - the office was cramped and the shelves unstable enough that closing the door meant knocking at least three things over.

“Three minutes, shit. I have to leave, please keep to yourself, I have a lot of important documents in here.”

The words were colder than you would've liked, but you couldn't find the strength to care much about his opinion of you.

You grabbed your laptop and left the room swiftly, abandoning Spencer Reid to your shared office.

Your first meeting may have been sour due to circumstance, but your second was unpleasant on the strength of Spencer Reid's grating personality alone.

In your five months at the college, you'd worked up a system for classwork.

Gather books. Go to class. Pick up coffee. Teach. Leave class. Pick up a second coffee. Go to your office. Host office hours. Work on a research paper. Rinse and repeat for any other classes you had that day.

With such a busy and caffeine fuelled schedule, you kept your office as neat as you could with your rickety shelves.

So, returning to meet Spencer Reid a second time, you almost threw up at the sight that befell you in the office.

“Hey, welcome back.”

The man sat on the one inch of your floor that wasn't taken up by furniture with all of the books in the office stacked up around him, the shelves bare and tipping precariously to one side.

“What the hell did you do to my office?” You blanched, looking around, unable to see the set of books you had organized for your next class.

“The shelves are broken, I put in a request to have them replaced, and I've been organizing the books by topic so-”

“The books were already organized. By class, and week they're to be taught. Fuck, I have a seminar in 30 minutes, I need those books.”

To his credit, Spencer Reid looked panicked as he sat sifting through all the books, even as your anger rolled off of you in waves.

“I can fix this. What shelf was it on?”

“Don't bother, just ruin my day some more. Hey, how about next time, you just throw everything in the trash?”

“I was trying to help, we're going to be sharing the office, and there isn't exactly space for two desks with your current filing system.”

“So you decided to rearrange without telling me? Asking me? I've been here five months, but you strolled in five hours ago and decided to change everything to suit you.”

“That's not - look, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you can start your apology by footing the bill for whatever improvements you've made. We're not tenured professors. Anything we add to the room or request comes out of our paycheck, and I'm not starving myself for floor to ceiling bookshelves.”

Whatever retort he was about to make was lost as you grabbed your bag from the floor and stormed out, leaving him behind in your dilapidated office.

When you returned to your office later that day, he was nowhere to be found. His new furniture, however, was crowding the room. A clone of your own desk was pushed up against the side of it, the pair forming an L shape. Great. Couldn't have gotten any closer if you tried.

Your couch was still in place by the door, but the old bookshelves were gone. They were replaced by a sturdier looking wooden set that now shelved all the books you'd inherited in the office or were using for class. And some new titles.

He hadn't put them back in the order you needed them in, though you doubted he ever would, but instead had them grouped by topic and within groupings in alphabetical order.

“How very precise,” you said, running your fingers along the book spines as you made your way to your desk.

“Whoops,” you said, pulling out a book you knew wasn't yours and letting it fall to the floor.

Was it petty? Sure. Was it therapeutic?Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Nice. Mature,” a voice said behind you, and for the second time in 12 hours, you jumped at the sound of Spencer Reid's voice.

“Jesus Christ, you need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what, walking into my own office?” He said, leaning against the new bookshelves.

“Our office. Shared. For three months.”

“Oh so you do remember we have to coexist?” He asked, grinning down at you. When did he get so close that he had to look down at you?

“Trust me, your presence is…felt,” you said, gesturing around the cramped space.

“What classes are you teaching?” You sighed, pushing past him to the open door and sitting down at the sofa.

“Profiling and the Criminal Psyche and I'm guest lecturing in Criminology 101. I have a few special lectures on geographical profiles in the next month.”

“And office hours?”

“What?”

“Your office hours, you're going to need to post them soon. Mine are Mondays and Thursdays at 11am, you'll need to be out of the office then so I can consult with the students about any absences or grades. If you haven't decided on your hours yet, my schedule is taped in the first draw of my desk.”

You grabbed your jacket from the hook on the door and pulled it over you like a blanket, laying yourself down on the sofa.

“Why would I need your-”

“Do us both a favour and schedule your hours during my contracted teaching time. It'll be easier.”

“Then why don't you schedule yourself during mine?”

You scoffed as you pulled a couch cushion up to rest your head on, closing your eyes as you drowned him out.

“Gee, you're some kind of genius. Can't you figure that one out yourself?”

You heard his sight of frustration but plugged in your headphones anyway, enjoying your 20-minute power nap as you stubbornly refused to face the day's stress.

A week later, you were deep into a College Cold War.

Spencer had attempted what you'd thought was a truce on his second day, arranging the pile of books you needed for that week's seminars on his desk happily.

Until you went to grab the top of the stack, and his hand held yours down on top of it.

“Sorry, that's for my class,” he said, glancing up at you. He smiled as he noticed the irritation in your eyes as you ground your teeth together.

“I'm teaching a class today based on this text. It was an assigned reading-”

“What a coincidence. It's an assigned reading in my class as well. For all 46 students. You better run over to the library, Y/N.”

You dragged your hand out from under his, brushing off the heat that ran up your arm from his hand as disgust rather than attraction.

His existence was irritating, but his face and body were more distracting than anything.

Storming off, you knew you had to one up him somehow, but you wanted to put some thought into it before doing something impulsive. Your first thought had been slashing his tires, so some perspective was definitely needed.

A week passed, and you found yourself having to endure the man's company on a Friday night for a departmental welcome meal. You'd assumed a week ago when it was scheduled into your outlook calendar that it would be to celebrate your promotion, and now the egg was most definitely on your face.

You'd debated not even turning up, but a warning email had let you know that attendance was compulsory, and the dress code was semi-formal.

So, you begrudgingly forced yourself into the little black dress you'd purchased a lifetime ago for your first graduation and got yourself a taxi over to whatever ridiculously expensive restaurant you have to fast at this time.

“Y/N, you’re here. We weren't sure you'd show up, after… you know!” One of the older professors said as you walked in, pressing an air kiss to either cheek as she handed you a champagne flute.

“Well, attendance was compulsory, so here I am!” You wanted to wipe the pompous smile off the woman's face so badly, but unfortunately, she was a member of the hiring committee. Three more months of sucking up to her was in your future, courtesy of a shitty move by the FBI.

“You say that, but our guest of honor isn't even here yet. Typical, right?”

You downed the drink she gave you and excused yourself to take your seat at the dinner table, needing a place to rest your glass to save yourself from cracking it in your furious grip.

It took another hour for Spencer Reid to show his face, and to your glee, he looked genuinely uncomfortable at the prospect of the night ahead.

“Sorry, I was unpacking some stuff at my apartment.”

“Oh, did you move recently?” A curious voice trailed up the table to ask him as he awkwardly side stepped to his seat. Right beside you, obviously.

“No, just… I had some stuff packed up.”

He held his tongue, not revealing more as the table fell in an awkward silence.

You dragged another glass to your lips and sat back in your chair, doing your best to stay unaddressed as the appetizers finally came out.

“Does the department have dinners often?” Spencer whispered, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he leaned closer to you.

The hot feeling washed over you again as you turned towards him, immediately pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you.

“No. Usually, it is only when welcoming guest lecturers or when someone gains tenure.”

“So who got tenure?”

You scoffed. “Funny. Thanks, Spencer.”

“What?”

You looked back at him again, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“This meal is to introduce you. Everyone else here has tenure.”

“You don't.”

“Yes, well, there wasn't exactly room in the budget for the hotshot FBI profiler and a steady income for another Professor.” You slammed your glass down again and picked up your bag and things, hoping the table hadn't heard your conversation.

“Please excuse me.” You said smiling at the rest of the table. Some of the women sent you sympathetic glances, but the department dinosaurs simply continued their conversations. You'd think a department of psychologists would be able to figure out they were all absolute narcissists.

You carefully exited the group and took yourself outside for some much needed air.

“Y/N.” He shouted from behind you again, and you had to be honest, you were sick of him following and sneaking up on you.

“God, what now, Spencer? Go back inside and get celebrated or whatever. They probably can't start the self-congratulatory circle jerk without you anyway.”

“I came to apologize. Again. But you don't seem to be able to handle the words ‘I'm sorry,’ at all, do you?”

He looked exasperated, but however he was feeling, you felt worse.

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.”

“If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-”

“No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.”

You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you.

“Okay. I'll stay out of your way.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

“Sure. Me too.”

[thelonestrider]

Please share! One of our own needs help!

Hello everyone - Someone from the CP77 community needs serious help. ErebusEquity set up a fundraiser for DBRV, DBRV's message is below: "Dear friends, As many of you know, I’ve been battling glioblastoma — an aggressive form of brain cancer. Over the past year, I underwent 12 months of chemotherapy, hoping it would stop the tumor’s growth. Unfortunately, it hasn’t helped. The situation has become critical. The location of the tumor in the brain makes the tumor almost inoperable, because of the high risk of being paralyzed — but now my condition has worsened, and emergency brain surgery must be done very soon, likely next week, here in Ukraine to address the immediate threat. This surgery won’t heal me, but it’s necessary to stabilize my condition. After that, I must travel to Germany for more advanced treatment and another surgery, which may allow doctors to remove a larger portion of the tumor and offer a better chance at extending my life.

These next steps are urgent and extremely costly. I’m doing everything I can, but I can’t do it alone. I’m asking for your support to help cover the cost of surgery, treatment, travel, and recovery. Unfortunately, I’m unable to create a GoFundMe due to restrictions in my country, so I’m relying on direct help and sharing.

Any contribution, no matter the size, makes a difference. Thank you for being part of this fight with me.

With heartfelt gratitude, Andrew"

If you have anything you can spare to help him with this emergency surgery it would be greatly appreciated. If you can't donate, please reblog the post to spread the word.

Due to his location in Ukraine, he was unable to set up a GoFundMe for himself, so Erebus made it for him. All funds go directly to him via a shared account. More info about his situation is on the GoFundMe page.

If you are unable to donate via GFM, here are his accounts for direct transfers: This is his PayPal: denezhka05@gmail.com This is his Ukrainian monobank jar: https://send.monobank.ua/jar/A4hvFJdRvG