#but he won’t let a little thing like that stop him

[pochaccoups]

cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)

It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”

You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.

For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?

When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.

“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.

Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.

“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)

He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”

“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”

He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.

“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.

“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.

He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.

“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.

“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.

The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.

With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.

“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.

He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.

“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.

Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.

He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.

“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.

“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.

“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.

You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.

“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.

“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.

And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.

Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.

“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.

“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[wonderjanga]

I’m the Parent and the Child

Billy has a kid form as Marvel and chooses to go into it quite often. He normally leaves his adult form for Champion of Magic duties. As a result, you’ll mostly see three little kids running around as opposed to two little kids and an adult. This is a little concerning for some people and absolutely outrageous for others.

Mary, Junior, and (Kid Form)Marvel: *all just finished jumping Adam and are now sipping juice boxes while sitting on the curb*

Supes: *flies down and lands near them* “Hey, kiddos. Is your father nearby?”

Junior: “Huh…?” *confused, cause he checked his father was dead*

Mary: *immediately clocks that he’s talking about adult Marvel* “No, why?”

Supes: “I wanted to talk about something with him. Have you heard of the Justice League?”

Marvel: “No?”

Supes: “Well, we’re a team of heroes and we want your father to join.”

Mary: “Oh, cool!”

Supes: “Yes, it is cool. So is he nearby?”

Junior: *now picked up on the fact he’s talking about adult Marvel* “No, he’s off somewhere… doing something.”

Supes: “Oh? And he just left you guys to watch over the city alone?”

Junior: “Uh… Yes?”

Supes: “That’s… Extremely irresponsible of him.”

Marvel: *still confused* “Mister, what are you talking about? Our Dads are de-”

Mary: *steps on his foot harshly* “Mister, you don’t have to worry about it. He’ll be back soon.”

Supes: “But I should worry. He’s letting three children wander around fighting crime with no supervision and nothing to protect you besides your powers.”

Junior: *shrugs* “That’s never stopped us.”

Supes: “Look, just-” *sighs* “when your dad comes back, give him this.” *hands Mary a JL comm because she seems the most responsible*

Mary: *takes it* “Okay!”

Later…

Supes: “I just can’t believe it! He seems like a good hero, but guess what?” *pacing around*

Batman: *reading a newspaper or something* What?

Supes: “He just let his kids go around fighting crime on their own!”

Batman: “And?”

Supes: “And they’re kids! Little kids! All around Robin’s age!”

Batman: *puts his newspaper down* “Oh? I assumed they were older.”

Supes: “Yeah, no. They’re all prepubescent!”

Batman: “Oh…”

Supes: “Yeah, oh. Are we gonna have to talk to him about this?”

Batman: “It seems so. If he accepts the membership offer, that is.”

Supes: “But what if he doesn’t? Are we just going to have to stand to the side and just watch this happen?”

Batman: “No. If he doesn’t accept, I’m sure there are other things we can do. After all, just because he doesn’t want to join the League, doesn’t mean he won’t prevent his kids from joining a team of their own like the Titans.”

The Captain does join the JL, and much to their delight, Junior and Mary join the Titans. Though the other little boy was nowhere to be found. He could still be seen patrolling Fawcett though so maybe he didn’t want to join while the other two did?

Anyways, that was the concern, here’s the outrage:

Black Adam: “Wha- Champion why in the Gods’ names do you look like that?”

Marvel: “What do you mean?”

Black Adam: “I mean, you look like a child.”

Marvel: “So?”

Black Adam: “So change back into your normal form.”

Marvel: “You mean my adult form?”

Black Adam: “Yes.” *rolls eyes*

Marvel: “Oh uh… no.”

Black Adam: “What do you mean no? I shouldn’t have to lower myself to fight a child.”

Marvel: “I…” *wants so badly to tell Adam that he already was a child before, but he can’t because, you know, secret identity* “Sure, man.”

He still ended up fighting Kid Marvel. Billy also won so that was a slight blow to Adam’s ego.

[shininjjongg]

Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.

You’ve been giggling nonstop for the past hour now. Don’t get him wrong, Kaiser loves hearing your laughter but right now it’s starting to piss him off.

You just sit there staring at whatever it is on your phone and giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. He raised an eyebrow completely abandoning the book in his hands and focusing his gaze on you.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a teasing tone to his voice.

When you don’t reply and keep smiling at your phone he frowned closing his book and moving towards your spot on the couch.

He tilted his head towards to take a peek at your phone but you were quicker to hide it, “Looking at someone’s phone without their permission isn’t nice, Michael.”

His frown deepened at that and moved closer to you, “What are you looking at? You’re been ignoring me and giggling like a lovesick fool.”

You bite your lip trying to contain a smile, “Well, that’s none of your business, pretty~” you poke his cheek and move to stand up from your spot but he swiftly snakes his arm around your waist and forces you back into his chest.

“And where do you think you’re going, huh?” He smirks down at you successfully trapping you against his chest.

“Let me go, Michael!” You say through laughter.

He tilts his head up, pretending to think “Hmmmm… I think I won’t” he started slowly caressing your tummy.

“Now, you have two choices here, either you tell me willingly or I force it out of you, love” his fingers that were caressing your tummy just a moment ago moved to ticked you now.

Your uncontrollable laughter could be heard through the whole apartment. You squirmed in his grip and pleads started falling from your lips involuntarily.

“P-Please Michael! I- I’ll show you! Stop!” You managed to get it out while Kaiser kept attacking your sides.

He halts his movements and smirks down at you “What an obedient little thing you are.” for a second you contemplated not wanting to satisfy him upon seeing his shit-eating grin.

You sigh and move to reach for your phone unlocking it with ease. “There, happy now?” You push the phone in his face flashing his with an edit of himself.

He falls silent for a moment but recovers from his initial shock quickly and the grin makes it back to his lips. “Oh, so it’s me you’re drooling over, huh.”

You smile sheepishly and blush a little, “Well, they did capture your finest moments on the field…” you hear his giggling in your ears and you’re attacked again, although this time the target is your neck and Kaiser is planting kisses all over it.

[miihho]

can do headcannons for Myung-gi? Thank you 😭😭

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) sfw

Myung-gi / Player 333

—HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who found himself in fights more often than he’d like to admit. His past was a tangled mess of mistakes and choices that led him down this path. Most times, when he was beaten down, no one cared enough to stop. They’d walk by, eyes averted, pretending not to see him lying there, bruised and exhausted. The pain was familiar, but it was something he had learned to endure alone. So when he found himself on the ground once again, bloodied and sore, he didn’t expect anything to change. He didn’t expect someone to stop and help.

But then, through the blur of his vision, he saw you. Standing there, glowing like something out of a dream, your eyes full of concern. “Are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, but it was filled with genuine concern. He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear the daze.

“Yeah…” he muttered, wincing slightly as he grabbed your hand and tried to stand. “It didn’t hurt that much.” He forced a weak smile, brushing the dust off his clothes, but his body was screaming from the blows he’d taken. You didn’t look convinced, your eyes scanning him with a frown. “You have bruises everywhere,” you said softly, taking in the sight of his battered form. “You need help, can i treat you?"

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to push you away and tell you it wasn’t worth it, that he was just someone who always ended up in situations like this. But your steady gaze stopped him. He nodded, letting you lead him away from the scene, knowing this would probably be the first time someone would care enough to make sure he wasn’t left to bleed out in a corner.He didn’t expect much—just a quick fix for the bruises. But as you carefully cleaned his cuts and bruises, your touch gentle and your voice soft, something inside him shifted.

The way you didn’t rush, the way you took your time, treating him with more care than anyone ever had, started to break down the walls he’d built around himself. His body still ached, but there was a warmth in his chest, a quiet comfort he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t falling in love with you right away. But in that moment, as you tended to his wounds and your eyes met his, something began to grow, slowly and quietly—an unfamiliar feeling, one that made him want to stay just a little longer.

—He’s the type of guy who keeps a distance from everyone, always a little cold, a little aloof, because it’s easier that way. He’s learned to build walls around himself, to guard his emotions, keeping people at arm’s length so he won’t get hurt. It’s become second nature—familiar and safe. But when it comes to you, everything shifts. You become the exception to the rules, the one who manages to break through the armor he’s so carefully crafted.

In your presence, the ice that’s kept him safe for so long begins to melt. The walls that once seemed impenetrable start to crumble, piece by piece, as he finds himself opening up in ways he never thought possible. It’s a vulnerability he’s not used to, one that both terrifies and comforts him in equal measure. For the first time, he doesn’t have to pretend. With you, he can just be. And it’s that warmth, that quiet shift in his soul, that makes him realize—maybe letting you in wasn’t as frightening as he once thought.

—He's type of guy who’d get nervous around you, never having interacted with a girl properly before. This whole thing was new to him. He would rehearse a simple greeting in front of the mirror, repeatedly stumbling over his words.

"Hello, nice to meet you again," he'd say, practicing until it felt right.

But the moment he saw you, standing there, his mind went blank. Flustered, he blurted out, "Meet hello again."

His face flushed red with embarrassment, and without a word, he quickly walked off, leaving you laughing softly at his awkward charm.

—Hes the kind of guy who would drop to his knees with tear-streaked cheeks, begging for another chance. The kind of guy who would plead, his voice trembling with desperation, asking you to take him back.

— He’s the kind of guy who melts under your touch, leaning into the soft strokes of your fingers as they weave through his hair. With you perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, he looks up at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world. His eyes, brimming with warmth, trace every feature of your face, and his smile—soft, tender, overflowing with affection—speaks the words his heart can’t contain. To him, this moment is everything: your closeness, your comfort, the quiet intimacy of being held by the one he loves.

—He’s the kind of guy who would drop everything at a moment’s notice just to make you happy. If you told him you wanted your favorite food, he wouldn’t just order it—he’d make sure it came from the best place, double-checking the details so it’s exactly how you like it. If you said you wanted something more, he’d move mountains to find it, his every action steeped in quiet devotion.

—He’s the kind of guy who would hold your bag without hesitation, tie your shoelaces if they came undone, and memorize all the little things that make you smile. If you said you were cold, he’d wrap his jacket around you without a second thought, even if he ended up freezing. If you called him in the middle of the night, needing someone to talk to, he’d show up at your door, no matter how far or inconvenient it was. If you mentioned something you like, he’d make a mental note and surprise you with it later, just to see the joy in your eyes. He’d stay up late if you needed him, wake up early to make your mornings easier, and cancel his own plans just to be there when you need him most.

For him, your happiness is worth everything. He doesn’t just listen to your words—he treasures them, acting on them like they’re his life’s purpose, because loving you isn’t a chore; it’s his greatest joy.

—He’s the kind of guy who pays attention to the tiniest details about you. Like the songs you hum when you’re happy, the exact shade of your favorite color. He remembers your birthday without needing a reminder, but he also knows the little anniversaries you don’t expect him to, like the day you first met or the first time you smiled at him in that special way.

He’d go out of his way to buy you things that match your favorite color—not just big gifts but the little ones, like a keychain he spotted at the store or a pen because he remembered you needed one. He’d surprise you with your favorite snacks on bad days and bring you flowers that match the hues you love, just to see your face light up.

—He’s the kind of guy who listens intently when you talk, even if it’s about something small, and he brings it up later to let you know he was paying attention. He’d notice when you’re feeling off, even if you try to hide it, and he’d do whatever it takes to make you feel better—whether it’s running to get your comfort food, wrapping you in a blanket, or just holding you until the world feels a little less overwhelming.

To him, it’s the small things that matter most because those details are what make you you, and he wants to love every single one of them.

—He's the kind of guy who stumbles over his words when you get too close, as if your presence is too much for him to handle. You don't realize how his heart races, a frantic rhythm he can't control, every beat echoing the weight of your nearness. He tries to pull away, but it's impossible—you're the only thing that makes him feel alive.

—He's kind of guy who would stay away from you for months, not because he wanted to, but because he believed it was for your safety. He worried endlessly that if anyone saw you with him, they’d make you a target—hurt you just to get to him. The thought of putting you in danger was unbearable, so he chose the distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

—Myung gi is the kind of guy who’d make you believe he has pure intentions, but the truth is far darker. He wants you all to himself—every moment of every day, your laughter, your smile, your touch. It's all his in his mind. The thought of anyone else having even a fraction of you fills him with jealousy, and he’ll do anything to keep it that way. You’re his everything, and in his eyes, no one else deserves a piece of you.

—He’s the kind if guy who secretly craves being treated like a precious little one, wanting to be praised for being good, his heart swelling at every word of affection you give him. When you look at him with that soft, loving gaze, calling him "baby" and showering him with overly sweet pet names, something inside him melts. It's not just the words, it's the way you care for him—like he's fragile, like he’s yours to protect. He acts tough on the outside, but deep down, he’s soft for you. Your attention, your affection—it’s everything to him, and he’s more than willing to be the one who melts under your love. He’d give anything to hear you speak to him like that forever.

(he's so IWBWIWHWIWJ😭😭☹️👊🏻)

[tfwbluu]

KINKS

PAIRING — heeseung + f!reader

WARNINGS — praising/degrading, indirect mentions of exhibitionism, there’s safe words involved but its not directly mentioned

WORDCOUNT — 0.6K

NOTE — more kink talk people, u guys are Hornee. making a whole masterlist for all of enha for this so yeah. . lmk if i missed anything in the warnings !

He’s definitely a service top. Always prioritizes your pleasure over his own, because making you feel good gets him off too. The sweetest boy, he’d follow your lead but not without a bit of teasing here and there. Be a good girl, and he’ll treat you like royalty.

“Feels good, baby?” he asked, watching you writhe beneath him. “You sound so pretty… are you close? Cum f’ me.”

“Is this where you want me to touch?” he teased, rubbing your clothed pussy. “I need words, baby. Guide me, and I’ll follow every command.”

Hair pulling was his weakness. He loved the way it made you arch for him when he was pounding into you from behind, or how it gave him control when your lips were wrapped around him.

“Stop hiding, baby,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your face up. “Let me hear you.” Your choked moans spilled out, only fueling his desire.

Watching you suck his cock was a sight he couldn’t get enough of. “That’s it…” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he started thrusting into your mouth, losing himself in the pleasure.

Lingerie. He loves when you’re all dolled up for him in the prettiest sets, especially after a long day. He’d worship your body, leaving marks on every inch of skin exposed. Tease him while he’s practicing—just a little peek of lace under comfy clothes—and he’d lose his mind, dragging you to the studio to fuck.

“Shit, baby. Did you have to tease me like that?” he muttered, gripping your neck as he pounded into you from behind. “Wearing slutty lingerie under baggy clothes? You planned this, didn’t you? Well, now take it.”

Cockwarming. Whether he’s gaming or producing, he loves having you cockwarm him. He’ll tease you with light thrusts, loving the way you yelp. If you get too needy and start moving, he’ll immediately abandon everything else and take you properly.

“Sit still, baby,” he murmured, holding your hips as you sank down on him. “Be good, and I’ll reward you.”

But when you couldn’t, he’d mute his mic and toss his headphones aside before fucking you properly.

“Couldn’t stay still, huh?” he growled, thrusting up into you. “Don’t want them hearing what a cockslut you are for me, hmm?”

“Fuck, if you’re needy, just say so,” he groaned, thrusting up into you, his headset forgotten.

He thrived on the balance between praising and degrading you, alternating between the two as he drove you insane. He’d worship how good you felt, only to follow it up by calling you a needy slut, loving the way you clenched around him whenever he whispered filthy things in your ear.

“Your pussy’s taking me so well, princess,” he murmured, his thumb teasing your clit. “Always such a slut for my cock, hmm?”

“Shit… just a cocksleeve for me, yeah? You like it when I use you, baby?” he groaned, smirking as he felt you tighten around him.

Considering how busy he was, he never hesitated to drag you somewhere for a quickie. He didn’t care who was around—he just needed to feel you. You could be a good girl and not get caught, right?

“Shh, baby,” he hushed, covering your mouth with his hand as he pounded into you against the wall. “Don’t want us getting caught, do you?” When he felt you clench, his smirk deepened. “Oh? Does getting caught turn you on? My dirty girl, wanna show everyone what a cockslut you are for me?”

Corruption was his favorite game. You could act all innocent for him, but he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. He adored watching you fall into his trap, craving him more with every touch.

“You can tell me to stop, and I will… but I know you won’t, right?” he teased, his lips brushing over your skin as his hands squeezed your breasts.

“Haa… that’s it, angel,” he murmured, his smile dark and full of intent as he finally tugged your panties off. “Let me take care of you, make you feel so good.”

“Too much?” he teased, a sly grin on his lips. “You know what to say if you want me to stop, angel… but you haven’t,” he murmured, his fingers curling inside you as he coaxed out more of your juices, the squelching sounds only fueling his pace.

TAGLIST — @starcrescentisz

[hsnlv]

enough, always. | y.jw

pairing: boyfriend!jungwon x reader

synopsis: on days when self-doubt clouds your heart, jungwon becomes your anchor. with his unwavering love, playful humor, and quiet strength, he pulls you back from the brink, reminding you that you’re more than enough—and always will be.

wc: 1.07k

a/n: yes, i wrote this when i was depressed😞 i find this comforting and i hope you do too💗 reblogs and comments are highly appreciated🎀 here’s my masterlist!

it’s one of those days. everything feels heavy, like your heart is weighed down and your mind won’t stop spinning. am i enough? the question echoes relentlessly, cruelly. it’s a battle you’ve fought before, but somehow it always feels just as overwhelming when it comes back.

you’ve been staring at the blank tv for what feels like hours, though in reality, it’s only been about twenty minutes. at first, jungwon thought you might be messing with him—he half-expected you to turn to him and say something silly, just like that time you swore the fridge was haunted just to see him flinch. but after a few moments, he realizes what’s really going on. you’re lost, trapped in a spiral of self-doubt that he wishes he could pull you out of.

being with jungwon feels like being with someone who has memorized every little detail about you. he doesn’t just know you—he understands you. the words you don’t say? he hears them. the pieces of yourself you try to fold away? those are the ones he focuses on, the ones he loves the most. and today, he can see those hidden pieces breaking through the cracks.

he doesn’t say anything at first. instead, he quietly walks over and sits down beside you on the couch. his arm slips around your shoulders, firm and steady as he pulls you closer. “hey, angel,” he says, his voice soft but strong. “what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

you don’t respond right away, and jungwon doesn’t push. he leans forward, tilting his head just enough to catch your gaze, but your eyes are still fixed on the tv. his thumb starts tracing gentle circles on your shoulder, his touch as calming as the sound of rain.

“you know,” he continues, his voice dipping even softer, “you’re not allowed to do this alone. not when i’m here.”

his words are gentle but carry a quiet strength, the kind that always makes you feel safe. slowly, you turn your head to meet his gaze. jungwon’s eyes are warm, filled with a steady kind of love that makes your chest ache in the best way. his small, knowing smile is already waiting for you—the one that says, i know what you’re feeling, and i’m not going anywhere.

when you still don’t speak, jungwon’s hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together. his grip is firm, grounding, as if to remind you that you’re not alone in this. “you’re thinking things you shouldn’t be thinking again, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “you’ve got that look. the one where you’re being way too hard and unfair to yourself.”

you try to pull away, but jungwon doesn’t let you. instead, he shifts closer, his forehead almost brushing against yours. “angel,” he says, his voice dropping into something even softer, almost like a whisper, “whatever your brain is telling you right now, it’s lying. you are enough. actually, no—you’re more than enough. you’re everything.”

his free hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that spills before you can stop it. jungwon lets out a dramatic gasp, his eyes wide. “oh no. where’s the tear police? crying this pretty should be illegal.”

his playful tone catches you off guard, and a quiet laugh escapes you. jungwon’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “there it is,” he says, his voice soft but triumphant. “that’s my favorite sound in the whole world.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmur, but there’s no hiding the slight smile tugging at your lips.

“ridiculously in love with you,” he counters without missing a beat. he pulls you even closer, his forehead pressed to yours now as his warm breath fans across your skin. “and ridiculously lucky to have you. seriously, angel, do you even know how amazing you are? because if you don’t, i’ll start a whole powerpoint presentation.”

you roll your eyes, but the smile is there, growing despite yourself. jungwon sees it and grins wider, his hands moving to frame your face gently. “you’re kind, you’re smart, you’re funny—well, mostly funny,” he teases, earning a light nudge from you. “but most importantly, you’re you. and that’s enough. actually, it’s more than enough. it’s perfect.”

he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there like he’s trying to transfer all the love he feels into that single moment. then, without warning, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you firmly against his chest. his hold is strong, protective, as if he’s shielding you from the weight of your own thoughts.

“you’re stuck with me, you know,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “whenever this happens, i’ll be right here. i’ll fight every bad thought, every stupid doubt. i’m your personal anti-bad-thoughts bodyguard. and i don’t take days off.”

“what’s the catch?” you mumble into his shirt, your voice soft but steadier now.

jungwon pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression mock-serious. “the catch is that you have to laugh at all my jokes. even the bad ones.”

“that’s a high price,” you say, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in your voice now.

“worth it,” jungwon replies, tapping your nose lightly. “and as a bonus, i’ll throw in unlimited cuddles and hot chocolate.”

he stands, pulling you up with him effortlessly. “come on,” he says, his tone lighter now. “we’re making hot chocolate. then we’re building a blanket fort. and after that? we’re watching the worst movie we can find and roasting it. it’s a lawless night, angel. your pick.”

“what if i want to roast your taste in movies?” you counter, your smile growing.

jungwon gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve just betrayed him. “excuse me? my taste in movies is iconic.”

“it’s bad,” you tease, and for the first time all day, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.

jungwon pulls you into another hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you’re lucky i love you,” he mutters, a smile in his voice. “now, let’s go. your tear police slash hot chocolate maker is officially on duty.”

and just like that, jungwon pulls you into his world of warmth and love, where the doubts fade and the only thing that matters is how much he loves you. with him, you don’t just feel enough—you feel everything.

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 10 | Boring Princess

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

You were fitted with a dress the moment you got back to your room. Whether or not it was pretty, well, you suppose that Jing Yuan will be the judge of that. You just hope that the dinner goes well.

“The emperor is waiting for you, princess.”

You nodded almost slowly as the maid finished fixing your hair before stepping away from you. You stood up from your chair that was sat perfectly in front of your mirror. You didn’t want to go to this dinner, but the Emperor’s word is law. Much to your dismay.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter out as you began to leave your room. The roll of the maid’s eyes and her little scoff only made you sigh internally. You recognized her. She was one of the frequent maids who would accompany the Emperor to his bed. Her dislike of you was made clear when you first met her.

The walk to the dining hall was quiet and almost awkward. Blade, who flanked your side the moment you left your room, did not make it any better.

“Nervous?”

His sudden question also unnerved you. He hasn’t tried to talk you once or initiate conversation with you in this life yet. So it had caught you off guard.

“Yes, a little.”

Blade watched you carefully before nodding and lead you into the dining room.

“Princess.”

You gathered any courage you could muster as you bowed to the Emperor. The legs of his chair scraping against the marble floor as he stood up to greet you.

“Emperor.”

You tried to keep your tone even, but it was obvious that you were scared. You couldn’t hide it, no matter how hard you tried.

His footsteps echoed loud in the room as he walked towards you, and you involuntarily took a step back but was stopped by Blade. And when he stopped in front of you, he reached for a strand of your hair and played with it a little. The curl twirling between his fingertips before he let it go as he let out a sigh in… disappointment?

“You are quite boring, aren’t you, princess?”

“Boring…?”

Jing Yuan smiled at you, “yes, boring. You don’t say or do anything about the maids that warm my bed. You spend your days flitting about the castle without evening trying to escape. And among other things.”

“Well, maybe if you wouldn’t kill anyone who says one wrong thing about you, then maybe I would be more inclined to speak with you.”

You couldn’t stop the snap in your voice, but Jing Yuan merely chuckled at your words. Amused.

“As if your words held any value to me in the first place.”

The Emperor glanced towards Blade, “get rid of her for me, won’t you? I don’t like playing with toys that bore me to death.”

Was coming to this dinner a test? It must have been since the Emperor just ordered Blade to kill you.

And just as the guard took a hold of your arm to probably drag you in a more secluded place. Jing Yuan stopped him.

“Killing her here is fine,” he said simply as a few servants came out of the kitchen with hot and ready foot and cold beverages. Blade, in response, merely pushed you to the ground. His other hand already unsheathing his sword. And when he raised his weapon, you closed your eyes.

Death was at least quick this time.

And just like before, when you opened your eyes, you were back in your room at the very beginning when you started to form a plan to get amnesia.

You needed a new approach altogether, it seems.

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[fushigurokogane]

~ Megumi Fushiguro Headcannons ~

hiii lovess~!! This is my first post on tumblr so BARE with me!! I hope you guys like these headcannons of our favorite EMO MANNN!!

~ Megumi is the type to show his love through actions rather than words. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but his protective instincts are off the charts. Whether it's making sure you're safe during dangerous situations or just being there when you need him, you’ll always feel his quiet support. If you're ever in a tight spot, he'll make sure you're safe without making a fuss. “Stay close to me. I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he’ll say with a calm but firm tone. If a situation arises where you’re in danger, he won’t hesitate to step in, reassuring you with, “I’ll handle this. You just focus on staying safe.”

~ When Megumi gives you compliments, they’re never over the top or cheesy. Instead, he’ll casually tell you, “You look nice today,” or “I like the way you think.” It’s not flashy, but it’s sincere, and you can always tell he means it. He doesn’t like to draw too much attention to it, but you’ll catch him giving you a soft smile and saying, “You look good today. Not that you don’t always, but today... it’s different.” Or, when you’ve just come up with a good idea, he might say, “I like how you think. You always know what to say.”

~ Megumi prefers quiet, low-key dates. Maybe a walk in the park, sitting at a quiet café, or going to a bookstore. He’s not one for big crowds or flashy outings, but he enjoys spending time with you in peaceful settings where he can focus on you without distractions. He enjoys the silence as much as the conversation. “I like this. Just us... no need for anything fancy,” he’ll say, glancing at you with a rare, warm smile. If you stop to look at something, he might add, “I’ll wait here. You take your time looking around.”

~ When you’re feeling down, Megumi is the type to sit with you in silence, offering his presence more than words. If you need someone to vent to, he listens patiently and gives sound advice without being too overwhelming. He doesn’t need to solve everything, but he’s there when you need him. He’ll sit by your side, saying, “You don’t have to say anything. I’m right here,” in a voice full of quiet support. If you start to share your thoughts, he’ll nod and respond with something like, “I know it’s tough right now. Take it slow, okay?”

~ Megumi respects your autonomy and space. He’s not the type to cling to you or act jealous. Instead, he’s supportive of your goals and interests, even if they don’t always overlap with his. He appreciates your independence and doesn’t feel the need to be in your business 24/7. He’ll reassure you, “You don’t have to check in every second. I trust you.” If you mention needing some alone time, he might respond with, “I get it. You need time for yourself. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

~ Though he’s serious most of the time, Megumi has his playful side that comes out around you. Whether it’s teasing you in a light-hearted way or showing off his random little quirks, he can be surprisingly fun once he feels comfortable. He might nudge you with a smirk, saying, “You really think you can beat me? Let’s see about that.”

~ Megumi is more in tune with your emotional state than he lets on. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, he’s the type to step in and help without hesitation, whether it’s through a comforting gesture or just taking care of things on your behalf. He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and will do what he can to make things easier for you. He’ll gently say, “You don’t need to carry all of that alone. Let me help.” Or, if you seem particularly stressed, he’ll comfort you with, “You’re stressed. I can see it. Take a breath. I’ve got it from here.”

~ He’s not one for grand gestures of affection, but Megumi has his ways of showing how much he cares. From the gentle way he touches your arm to the occasional shoulder rub when you're tense, his physical affection is subtle but full of meaning. When he holds your hand, it’s with a sense of quiet trust. He’ll offer his hand and say, “You can hold my hand if you want. I don’t mind,” or, in a quiet moment, “It’s just... I feel better when you’re close.”

~ Megumi isn’t the type to show jealousy openly. If he feels threatened by someone’s attention toward you, he’ll internalize it and try to focus on keeping his cool. But, if he gets too worked up, he might get a little more protective over time, making sure you're always by his side. He might downplay his feelings with, “Don’t worry, I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing you get too close to someone who doesn’t have your back.” If it continues, he’ll lean in and say, “I’m fine. Just... stay by me, okay?”

~ Megumi can be a little awkward when it comes to public displays of affection. He’s not someone who enjoys showing off his relationship in front of others, and he prefers to keep things low-key. However, in private, he can be quite affectionate in his own subtle way, like giving you a quick kiss on the forehead or cuddling up next to you during a movie. When you’re out together, he’ll say with a slight blush, “We don’t have to hold hands in front of everyone, but... I don’t mind when it’s just us.” After a kiss on your forehead, he might add, “Don’t read into it. I just wanted to do that.”

~ Megumi takes your words seriously, even the small things. Whether you’re talking about something that happened during your day or telling him about a random thought, he listens and engages with what you say, showing you that your opinions and feelings matter to him. When you share something on your mind, he’ll respond thoughtfully, saying, “That sounds like it was rough. What do you think you should do about it?” Or, if you keep talking, he’ll encourage you with, “I’m listening. Keep going. What happened next?”

~ When you're feeling under the weather or stressed, Megumi will step in and take care of you without hesitation. He’s the kind of boyfriend who’ll grab your favorite snacks, bring you water, or just stay with you, making sure you're comfortable and rested. He’ll come over and quietly say, “Here’s some water. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” If you need anything else, he might add, “You need anything else? Just let me know. I’ve got you.”

~ Megumi respects when you need your own space. He doesn’t take it personally if you need time to recharge, and he uses that time to reflect or work on his own things. It’s not about distancing, but about understanding that being together sometimes means giving each other the space to grow individually. He’ll reassure you with, “I know you need some time. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” If you’re taking a break, he’ll tell you, “Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

~ Megumi finds peace in your presence, even if he’s quiet or a little reserved. Just being around you is enough to help him unwind, whether it’s reading together, having a silent dinner, or simply lying in bed beside each other. He appreciates the stillness you bring to his often chaotic life. He’ll look at you with a content expression and say, “It’s nice, just... being here with you.” On more quiet days, he might murmur, “I don’t need to go anywhere. I’m happy just sitting here with you.”

~ While he might not be the loudest or most expressive boyfriend, Megumi is the steady rock you can lean on. His consistency and reliability are a testament to his feelings for you, and no matter what challenges come your way, you can count on him to be there for you in his own quiet way. When times are tough, he’ll say with calm assurance, “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” Or, when you need reassurance, he’ll quietly tell you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got your back.”

DID YOU GUYS ENJOYYY??? I might make headcannon for yuji too!! So if you want one LET ME KNOWW!! ILY U SM POOKIES BAI BAIII~~!!

love, ✭ Nika ✭

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The way I fell in love with this fic immediately!! OP has such a fantastic grasp on words, and pacing it fr had me completely entranced with the story. Jason and the reader felt so fleshed out and real that I just wanted to tuck them both into bed and tell them it's all going to be alright! I talk about my fav parts below the cut:

All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The stakes here are already giving me anxiety, mentally had to check if I had any high-stakes projects to take care of (I do not) but I am immersed and still feel like I do

Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

Ugh this is so visceral, I can literally feel my chest tighten at this scene (But I'm also thinking about how terrible Gotham traffic is, like I know every other day you have to change your route home because some rouge decided to rob a bank and crash their getaway car)

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

ooooh, ow, that's heavy. The day has just been so awful and all you want is just a moment to yourself and when you finally think your space is safe there's another issue to deal with and there's blood on your cream carpet. What's worse is that you don't him to be consider an issue, but in the moment when you're already so drained and exhausted and he's only making things harder, it's difficult to consider him as anything else

Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.” He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap.

Ahhh, sobbing because it's not even an 'I'm sorry' and maybe normally you don't need it to be, but today it's just another thing drawing you closer and closer to breaking

But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Love this little insight, if it's not you, then it's no one, and he's been coming around long enough for you to know that

It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep.

!!! This line is such a standout for me, poetry fr

You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

I looove the tension building here, it feels like bubble about to pop, a scream about to break the silence

You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

SOBBING, wow, no words for this other than we all definitely need to cry

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.” You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—” “Okay.” He goes quiet.

This whole interaction is written incredibly, it has me sucking in breath and my eyes going wide. There's just this heaviness with it, both of them are trying in their own way, but nothing is going to make you feel better right now. And there's an ache that they're both messing up? Like, maybe you're not going to want him to come back after this. Or maybe he won't want to, and the whole tentative relationship you've built will just vanish

Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

oh no

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor.

OH NO

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

!!! OP!!! OW!! I'm going to go stare into the void, but YOU need to go stare at a wall and think about what you've done

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

I gasped, but it's so true to his character for him to shut down when hurt

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

Art

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand.

In awe of your way with words here, I can feel the hurt and the comfort with every line

Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch.

oooh, this action feel so big, so much, a line that you want to cross but neither of you are ready for

you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

Yeah, wow, that's fantastic. This gets right to core of knowing Red Hod and wanting to know who's underneath, it's so compelling and I eat it up every time

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could. You know why.

SCREAMING, I want to give them the world and wrap them up in blankets! Seriously, this fic is just so, so good. I loved every line, and I don't think I blinked the entire time. Jason felt so human, flawed, but still kind and good. Incredible work as always, OP!! 💙💙

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe. There’s a half-pint of ice cream left in the freezer, you remember, and store that information for later.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[multiversefanfics]

That's My Girl

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! Smut, rough unprotected sex, praise kink, spanking, then fluff Summary: Steve was stressed, you were there looking gorgeous he asked, and you said yes. A/N: This one is short mainly because I wanted to post it.

Normally Steve was a little shy when it came to talking about sexual things, he always felt embarrassed bringing it up to you because he didn’t think you would care or even help him. Steve would hint that he was sexually frustrated, and you caught on every time, but you wanted him to be a man and tell you what he wanted instead of beating around the bush with it. So, until he gets the balls to say something you started to tease him a little, walking around the compound where you knew he’d be, in skimpy clothing, bending over in front of him, “accidentally” brushing passed him when the space is tight, things like that.

Steve would never actually come out and say that he wanted to fuck you, and you so desperately wanted him to fuck you. Today, you decided to have some fun, so you put on the shortest shorts you had and one of Steve’s t-shirts, you knew he would be in the gym at a specific time and you used that to your advantage, you walked in and saw Steve running on the treadmill, you decided to get on the one right next to him and started jogging beside him, you saw him look over, his eyes trailed down your body then back in front of him so he wouldn’t trip “Is that my shirt?” You smiled and nodded “It’s what I wore to bed, I figured instead of changing just come down and work out.”

The two of you worked out together for another 2 hours, you also flirted and teased him as much as you could without being too obvious. You were walking back to your room when you passed Steve’s room, you weren’t one to eavesdrop, but you heard your name and couldn’t help but stop and listen “Bucky she’s so gorgeous, but at the same time I want to shove her against the wall and fuck her silly.” You heard Bucky chuckle “Language, Steve.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to your room, you took a shower and got into your PJs, your normal PJs, you didn't really feel like teasing Steve after hearing that, you walked downstairs and into the kitchen to get a snack, you weren't paying attention and ran into a shirtless Steve, you looked into his eyes "Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention." You tried your best to keep your eyes met with his, but his chest was so chiseled you couldn't keep your eyes from wandering "Y/N, you, okay?" You blinked a few times and looked down

"Yeah, just came for a snack." He smirked down at you and stepped aside "Whatcha in the mood for?" You continued into the kitchen and looked through the cabinets "I'm not sure, just browsing." You heard footsteps getting closer to you "I know what I'm in the mood for." Steve was now behind you, his chest pressed against your back, you stood there frozen against the counter. What has gotten into him, was he finally getting revenge on you for all the teasing you've done over the past couple of weeks, was he actually into you.

You felt his breath on the back of your neck, next to your ear "I'm in the mood for you." He gently kissed behind your ear, his hands found their way to your butt and gave it a little squeeze, a small moan escaped your lips, and you titled your head back "Sorry sweetness, you're gonna have to wait for it." He kissed your neck and backed away from you, walking up the stairs. You stood there frozen. “If that’s how he wants to play it, let the games begin.”

It was now the next day. You and Bucky met in the gym for your daily workout session. "So, you and Steve huh?" You looked over and raised an eyebrow "What do you mean?" Bucky chuckled and rolled his eyes "Don't play dumb, I see the way you two interact." It was your turn to roll your eyes “It’s all just a game, I know Steve won’t actually do anything I’m just having a bit of fun.” You shrugged and continued to work out “Well.” Bucky strolled up behind you, leaning down so his mouth was right next to your ear “A little birdie told me, he wants to fuck you silly.”

You froze, rolled your eyes, and moved away from Bucky. "You're delusional. We're just friends." Bucky chuckled and walked back over to the punching bag. "Believe what you want, Doll." You stood there, your mind racing. Did Steve actually like you? Or did he just want to have sex with you? What did you want? Did you want a relationship or sex? You couldn't concentrate on anything; you often thought about how Steve was in bed, but you always shook the thoughts considering you two were best friends.

Later that night, your mind was still racing you are a gorgeous girl who wouldn't want to be with you whether romantically or sexually. You preferred romantically; you didn't like being used, truthfully the more you thought about it the angrier you got because it seemed as though Steve was just going to use you, you ignored the thoughts and decided it was time to talk to Steve.

You wrapped your robe around your body and walked to Steve's room you weren't trying to tease him it was just what you had on at the time. You knocked on his door and stood there patiently waiting for him to answer, the door opened to reveal a shirtless Steve "Y/N, you okay?" You nodded "I wanna talk." Steve moves to the side allowing you to fully enter his room you sit down on the edge of his bed, he sat down beside you.

"Steve." You sighed "Bucky told me something and I need to know if it's true or not." You heard Steve gulp; you looked over at him "It's true." You felt Steve's hand trace circles on your lower back, he leaned down leaving soft kisses on your shoulder and guiding them up your neck to your ear "I know you want to fuck me too." His whisper sent a shiver down your spine

"Steve.." Your voice came out almost as a moan "Tell me to stop and I will." He slowly dragged his tongue down your neck to your collarbone softly sucking on that spot, you leaned your head back. Steve removes your robe, and slowly lowers you back on the bed, leaving slow soft kisses down the front of your body. "Please don't stop." Every kiss became hungrier and hungrier as he got closer to your legs. You felt him stop and sit up. "Are you sure you want to continue?" You nodded, biting your lip a bit "Words, Princess."

You struggled to find your voice but if you wanted him to continue you had to say something "Yes please" He smirked as you watched his face disappear between your legs, he hooked his fingers onto your underwear and pulled them to the side, he paused for a moment, and sat back admiring all that you had to offer "You're my pretty girl." You blushed and watched his face disappear once more, this time his lips attached themselves to your already throbbing clit.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, you tried not to let your moans come out but the way he moved his tongue against your clit sent you into a frenzy "P-please Steve, don't stop" Just as you were about to cum, he pulled back you whined and looked at Steve. He stood up unbuckling his pants, you sat up helping him take off his pants and boxers, your mouth hung open as his dick bounced back from his waistband, you didn't expect him to be that long and thick.

You looked up at Steve who was already staring down at you "You okay, love?" You responded by taking as much of his length as you could, you used your hand to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Hearing Steve moan and groan gave you the confidence to do better, as you pulled back you swirled your tongue on his tip causing him to moan profanities and grip your hair, he helped you bob your head causing you to gag a little.

Steve loved that sound, and he wanted nothing more than to unload in your mouth but that's not where he wanted to cum, he pulled your head back and up to his face to kiss you, his kiss was hungry and ravenous. The two of you moaned against each other's lips when all of a sudden you heard something ripping, Steve ripped your underwear off, Bucky wasn't lying when he said Steve wanted to fuck you silly.

Steve softly pushed you on the bed towering over you. "You owe me new underwear" You pouted staring up at him "When you're around me, you shouldn't be wearing underwear." You nodded, I mean he was right, why wear them when they're just going to come off and who has the money to keep buying underwear that he rips off.

Steve aligns himself with you rubbing his tip against your clit, you tried to close your legs, but he pushes your legs apart and slides his dick in, just the tip at first to give you a chance to adjust to his size, once you relaxed, he pushed the rest of himself in you "That's my good girl, taking daddy's dick so well." Hearing him call himself daddy unlocked something you didn't know existed. You tightened around his dick as he pumped in and out repeatedly, he groaned your name pushing through your tightness

You wanted to do more than just lay there and let him do all the work, you asked to switch positions which he was all for it. He flipped you over so you're on all fours, ass in the air, back arched. Steve reentered and for some reason, it felt so much better in this position than the first, Steve was hitting all the important spots, and just then Steve raised his hand and slapped your ass as hard as he could without hurting you, you felt his dick twitch inside you, and he paused. You repositioned yourself and started bouncing on his dick.

You knew he was about to cum, and you wanted to be the sole reason why he came, you began to lose your form, and he placed his hand on your spine "Arch that back for me, baby." You did as you were told and arched your back and continued to bounce as he gripped and smacked your ass "Fuck, Y/N you feel so good." You felt his dick twitch once more and soon you felt the warm liquid shoot from him filling you up completely, he stayed inside of you for a bit before collapsing beside you breathless.

"That was amazing." You looked over at him wiping the sweat from his forehead, he realized that you were dripping and went to the bathroom and got a warm damp washcloth and came back to wipe you down. You always dreamed someone would wipe you down after sex, it’s never happened until now and you loved every second of it. As he was cleaning you off he couldn’t help but admire your body once again.

He could go for a round 2 but he could tell you were very overstimulated and respected what your body was going through, he smiled and looked up at you “I’m so proud of you, babygirl” hearing those words made your cheeks heat up, he tossed the washcloth in the hamper and climbed into bed next you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body felt so good that you didn’t even realize you fell asleep, Steve held you, rubbed your back and placed soft kisses on your forehead. This was more than just sex for him although he slutted you out, you could tell he truly loved and cared for you.

A/N: i hope you like it, this has been in the drafts since august ‘23 again i am not good at smut at all but im trying😂 if you want to be tag in any future fics, fill out this form or message me or comment what you want to be tagged in

Main Masterlist - Steve Rogers Masterlist

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @tdbooth @kjah97 @thiquefunlover63

[insomniadreamzz]

In love with the Wolf

Alpha!Jinx x Fem!Reader

This fic takes place in Omegaverse AU. Mentions of smut, blood, werewolves, violence, angst

This fic is also taking place in another world but with Arcane characters. A Fanfiction written by me. I don’t own any of the characters. Using (Y/N) in this fic as well for Reader.

Enjoy!

Prolouge

Jinx and Vi were both Alpha‘s and sisters. Their relationship wasn’t the best after their father died in an accident. Vi blaming Jinx for it, like she blamed her every time something went wrong. Since that accident both of them parted ways, Vi meeting a beautiful woman, a Omega called Caitlyn. Caitlyn grew up in well known pack, a family with a lot of money, living the fancy life together with Vi in a beautiful place, a mansion. Meanwhile Jinx stayed at their lifestyle they had before. Nothing looked pompous, she had a simple home, a little hideout where she spent her time resting after going hunting or just causing trouble in town. She was known for being a criminal who stole stuff from other werewolves that had a more fancier life or even going in the human town and causing trouble there.

Their father Vander always told them not to get close to the human town. It’s dangerous. Humans and Werewolves had their problems with each other obviously. War between humans and werewolves was always a thing but at that time things got quiet between them. The leader of the whole werewolf nation made a deal with the human one. A deal no one really knew exactly about but it was important for every nation that they stopped fighting and living their own life even tho there were a little outsiders who still caused trouble. Criminals like Jinx. How long will the armistice hold on until everything goes back to chaos again? Only time would tell.

———

„Is that really necessary?“ You asked as you looked at the mirror, your brother Victor helped you adjusting the tie of your new uniform.

„Of course it is. You’re an adult woman now and our government needs more people who take care of the well being of human existence. You have never been the girly girl ever since you were little. You wanted this don’t you remember? Protecting your home?“ He told you as he gave you a smile with a little hint of sadness in it. „I can’t do it because of my disability to walk but you can. Make your older brother proud.“ He mentioned and you smiled, nodding in response. Victor was right. He couldn’t do anything much but you could. Maybe it isn’t that bad and you could use what you will learn to protect your loved ones.

Even if there is no war at the moment there were still some outsiders who caused trouble on both sides, human and wolves. The city must be protected and you grew more proud with your new job, fighting for good all those years you grew stronger and smarter. At least you thought werewolves were bad and they had to be locked away as soon as they get into the human territory. It’s too dangerous letting those ‚animals‘ run free.

All those things got taught to you. All that hatred. But for what cost? Your brother disappeared and you were alone, living only for the well being of your hometown.

You didn’t know what happened to Victor. He just disappeared from one day to another. You made peace with your own mind, convincing yourself of thinking he won’t come back anymore so you will stop being disappointed every day he won’t stand in front of your door, telling you everything is fine.

„Make your older brother proud.“ That sentence from him creeped in your mind daily and you promised him you will make him proud.

You were walking along the streets, the whole morning was rather quiet, not much to do for you as you roamed along the usual are you were positioned on. You were about to take a break when you suddenly heard a loud bang, a building catching fire, your eyes widen as you saw the chaos only a few meters away from where you were standing. „Shit…“ You mumbled under your breath, running towards the building.

You saw a few people running into your direction, away from the fire, some of your coworkers who were located near your route were also on their way to where the explosion happened, helping injured people out of it.

You decided to get in, trying to find more possible injured people but you didn’t see anything, coughing as you inhaled the smoke of the fire which also made it hard for you to see anything. In the middle of the chaos you saw a figure sitting in the middle of the room you were standing. It was a female, giggling to herself insanely before she noticed your presence, pink glowing eyes looking straight into yours. Her grinning widely so you could see the tip of her fangs. She was one of them…

„What the hell are you doing!? Get outta here!“ You shout at her, not caring if she was one of the wolves. She was still a living being. Sometimes you thought you are too soft for this job but letting anyone die wasn’t one of your things to do. „Why? Don’t you love the chaos? I do like it. Because that’s all I can do right. Causing chaos and trouble.“ She answered and your eyes widened, realising she was responsible for that.

„Why???! Why did you do that? I mean-…fuck it!“ You grumbled, knowing it was pointless asking her that. When you heard the ceiling above you cracking, something snapped in your mind and you rushed to grab the other womans arm and dragging her out of here, she squirmed into your grip, clearly not wanting you to touch her but you didn’t care at this point. Just the moment you both got out, the building crushed together.

„Don’t fucking touch me!“ She growled, you having other plans though. „Are you kidding me? You are arrested.“ You said before a coworker joined you, his expression almost scared as he saw your grip on the other womans arm. „How…did you get her?“ He asked before taking the handcuffs, making sure to put them around her wrists, you both having a hard time to make her stay still but you somehow managed it together.

„What? Why are you so shocked? Isn’t that my job?“ You asked him and his answer kind of surprised you. „That’s Jinx. You have never heard of her? She is well known for doing crimes. You will get a huge price for catching her!“

Your eyes widen in surprise. That woman was Jinx? She didn’t even try to fight you but why? Why was she so easy to get? Something is definitely off here. Jinx didn’t even look at you both, she looked to the ground, looking at absolutely nothing. She looked empty and sad. She did give up so quickly it made you wonder why or was it a trick?

Ever since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about Jinx. You wondered why she didn’t try to escape from you, she could easily turn into her wolf form and escape also the colour of her eyes…that pink colour. Usually werewolves had golden eyes, why were hers so…unique? You wanted to know more about her.

It was your free day but you still made your way to the cells, the urge to see Jinx again and getting to know more about her was just too intense. You knew she probably wouldn’t want to talk but at least you could try. Maybe you could also understand how that species is thinking and if they really are this bad. You always believed in the good in people and you wanted to give it a try.

When you stood in front of her cell you saw her being all curled up in the corner, her long blue hair hanging over her face you could barely see her. The walls of the cell were covered in scratch marks, telling you she probably freaked out in there. You didn’t even habe to say anything, she could sense your presence, her head slowly lifting to look at you, thise eyes already made you feel lost in them. Her gaze was tired, she was tired. Probably from crying, her dark makeup all smudged, cheeks stained with dried tears. „What do you want? Judging me?“ She grumbled but you didn’t answer yet. You crouched down to be the same level as her, showing her you don’t wanna do anything bad. „I want to understand you.“ You finally spoke with a soft voice, making her grunt in return. „No one understands me.“ She said, both of you staying silent for a while before she finally decided to say something.

„I lost everyone. My father is dead because of me fucking up…my sister blaming me for everything that ever went wrong and left me for a fancy bitch that hates me, everyone hates me. What’s the point of trying to keep a living? Nothing. I have no one.“ Her sudden openness was surprising but you understood the part of having no one. „You know…I have no one as well…my brother…he is gone. I don’t know if he is even alive anymore. Our parents died when we were younger.“ You mentioned, looking at Jinx who hugged herself as her nails digged into her upper arms, making her bleed. „You don’t understand half of what I am feeling.“ She continued pushing you away with her words but you stayed stubborn. „So all of this chaos because you have no one?“ You dared to ask and she snorted, snapping her head up as she looked at you, her eyes filled with rage but also with pain. „I wanted to show them all! I wanted to show what I can do! But…I always end up fucking up so I accepted that this is all I can do. I can’t do anything good.“ She snarled before getting up, walking towards you as she grabbed the metal rods of the cell. „What do you even know? You’re just a human.“

„Maybe I am just a human.“ You said before standing up as well, looking directly into her eyes. „You decided to cause trouble here. That’s not your home, that’s just not right. Of course we have to do something about it don’t we?“

„A human killed my father! My fault or not he died by a humans hands! I hate you! I hate what you are!“ She kept on yelling at you, her rage radiating a lot of power but you stayed calm. „You would have been arrested in your own home as well by doing that crime. You can’t blame every human for what they have done to your family. I do believe that if we would work together instead of wanting to erase each other we will have a much more peaceful life.“ You explained, her expression still angry but surprisingly she listened to you. „Jinx. You can do better than that I know it. I don’t care what you are. You are unique. Please remember my words okay? Think about it.“ You said before turning to leave, hoping Jinx will really think about what you told her. Maybe you had a chance to get her convinced to use her intelligence and powers for good. Just maybe.

To be continued

I hope you enjoyed the first part!! It’s more of an introduction but dw part 2 will come soon! Let me know if you like this story and wanna see more. I have a lot for you incoming. ❤️

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (just aven putting on a show :3)

from somewhere in the depths of your home, aventurine’s whines dance through the air, a taunting little rhythm. they’re beautiful as always; desperate, too.

gracefully you remove the pieces of your workday costume: shoes left by the door, a jacket hung next to his. buttons come undone, cloth slides down your skin as you venture deeper inside, chasing his song.

behind the bedroom door, you find its source.

cracking it open, he lets your eyes wander his body, trailing the curve of his spine, the dip of his hips. they land on the dildo nestled deeply inside him, its shape revealed each time his knees bounce from the floor.

slowly, with the teasing beauty of a performer, he turns over his shoulder to greet you.

“you’re home early,” he grins, flushed cheeks painted the pink of ballet shoes. his movements never stop as he speaks to you, the plump flesh of his ass rippling slightly with each self-imposed thrust.

“i’m home precisely on time.”

his smile widens. “well then, i must have mixed up your hours today.”

“my schedule is posted on the fridge.” you waltz towards him now; slow, deliberate steps. the eagerness in his chest swells with each beat.

when you speak again, it catches him off-guard, a new part of the dance, one he hadn’t rehearsed.

“if you were so desperate to be fucked, you could have just asked, you know.”

“who says i’m desperate?” the glimmer of stage lights reflect off his perfectly white teeth, polished and proper, waiting to bite.

draping your arms over his shoulders, the sweat sparkling along his skin sticks to yours (it’s a tiring thing to exercise this level of control, to use one’s body like this).

“my poor, needy aventurine,” you hum, opting to ignore his teasing plea (it never gets him anywhere, but it certainly won’t stop him from trying). a shiver runs up his torso as your fingertips travel down it. they rest just above his waist, mere inches from his twitching, leaking cock. he’s always the most beautiful when he’s desperate. “have you cum yet, darling?”

with your weight behind him, he lets his focus slip ever so slightly - it’s easier when one knows they’re not the only one on stage, when there’s another there to catch them were they to fall. he doesn’t have to speak anymore, doesn’t have to recite his lines or hit a note; he just has to move and breathe and feel, to let his body be the centerpiece.

through an open-mouth grin he shakes his head, pride pumping through his veins and clouding over his gaze.

and you reward it, the fluidity that comes only from endless practice. with a smooth hand you wrap your palm around his base, and purr, “good. you’re such a good boy, aventurine.”

yet, sometimes, in spite of the rehearsal, one’s body can’t maintain its readied form. its muscles know what to do, but gravity catches up to them mid-leap.

his eyes widen suddenly, his shoulders tensing unexpectedly. those same breathy whines burst from his lips as he finishes in your hold, his gaze struggling to find you in the crowd, until the spotlight lands on you, and only you.

a/n: fucking hate this guy and his stupid perfect body and his annoying fucking face and shdjdjcjdkkfkelf

[muletia]

something malicious is brewing again and this time it's a mid, soft-core, badly written, extremely self-indulgent, silly, valveplug, VERY ooc obsessed!starscream x human!reader fic with plot because this pathetic little scrimblo scrunkly mipy insect [affectionate] drilled himself into my brain. i want him to suffer [affectionate] and then experience the best interface of his life. i am going fucking insane thinking about this miserable prick i want him to be happy so bad but while being disgustingly and unhealthully obsessive to the point where his mind fucking breaks and he starts being pathetic not for himself but for someone [affectionate]

so yea i really like yandere starscream tfp <3

have a lil snippet:

[...]

He carelessly tosses the empty energon container aside and locks his optics on you, still scanning his wounds.

“I’ll get a towel,” you announce, turning toward the house.

Ha, you want to leave him? Now, when he needed you most? No, you had no right. You couldn’t hurt him like that.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Before you even touch the doorknob, you feel long, slender claws on your forearm. They wrap around you and pull you back, accompanied by your muffled “eep,” until you land against his chassis, your shirt now smeared with energon.

“Really? Do you know how hard it is to get energon stains out?”

“You’ll manage,” he replies. His servo plays with your hair, and his wings tremble slightly, betraying the emotions he’s trying to suppress. “I’ve never noticed blue stains on that pathetic, soft armor of yours.”

“Clothes,” you correct.

“Unimportant.”

Holding you in his arms, he can pretend everything is fine. The open wounds don’t sting as fiercely as they did moments ago, his battered body can rest, and his processor feels calm. Everything feels right when you’re close, when he’s surrounded by the unimaginably pleasant softness, and your tiny hands stroke his chassis carefully, avoiding every wound and scratch. It’s comforting, and reassuring to have someone who brings solace only to him. To belong to someone just as he belongs to you. Almost cozy.

But soon, the cuddling stops being enough. It’s unsatisfying, incomplete. Always craving indulgence, he wants more, and he wants it now.

He leans in, beginning to greedily kiss your neck, while his servo slips under your shirt, sending a clear message that his desire is all-consuming.

“Starscream,” you chide, “there’s a puddle of energon under you.”

“Good thing I don’t care,” he says between kisses, with zero intention of stopping.

“And will you start caring when I say I won’t let you into bed in this state?”

“Stop ruining the mood,” he squawks. “I don’t need your berth to interface!”

“But I do,” you reply calmly, unfazed by his accusatory tone. To emphasize your point, you cross your arms over your chest, putting a barrier between you and him. Starscream loathes the gesture, hates the small yet significant distance it creates. He wants to erase it, destroy it because whether you realize it or not, you hurt him with your cruelty. You set a boundary he never wanted to see between you again.

“Star, you know I want what’s best for you, right?”

“And that’s why you want to leave me, huh? Fine, go ahead, leave and never come back if you don’t want to pay attention to me!” He lets go of you, and this time it's him crossing his arms over his chassis, but defensively, for comfort. Because suddenly, without you near, he feels an overwhelming, terrifying coldness. “You have the incredible opportunity to interface with me, and you’re turning me down because of a little energon stain? Foolish human, if only you understood what honor I bestow on you by allowing you to even touch me.”

“I’ll be gone for literally a minute,” you smile, cupping his battered faceplate in your hand. Starscream tries not to fall for the trap, to prove the seriousness of his words with his body, but after one nanoklik, he knows he’s lost. He leans into your hand, now stained with energon, savoring the scraps of attention you give him. His wings flutter happily, and his jet engines hum softly, imitating a purr, revealing his true feelings—the nonverbal ones, straight from his spark. “You’re a good mech. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

He stomps his pede and taps his claws against his arm, wrestling with his thoughts. One compliment, and he’s already ready to do anything you ask, desperate to earn another, as if possessed.

“You have exactly one klik. And you’d better hurry, because I’ll be counting.”

You disappear into the house, and he has to fight the urge to follow you, to accompany you everywhere in pursuit of the phenomenon of your touch and its incredible ability to drown him in pleasure. What a cruel joke, he thinks, as a few nanokliks pass and the pain returns. His wings droop, body begins to tremble, betraying the weakness and excruciating torment he carries inside. He doesn’t want to be left alone without stimulants, because he starts to think, to be afraid. He hugs himself tighter, feeling as if the cold has intensified, mocking him just like it did back on the Nemesis.

[lovlidollie]

⭑ 3. HONEY AND MILK ; barry

series masterlist | previous | next

━━ CW ; kidnapping , threats of getting pimped out .

cigarette burns on my collar, i don’t think i like this life that we’re living / surviving on honey and milk, you don’t give me much more to make sure that i’m breathing ━━ honey and milk , flower face

the little basement was dark, save for the spluttering glow of the lone lightbulb having above you. you sit curled up on the tattered mattress, knees drawn up to your chest and thin blanket wrapped tightly around your frail shoulders, aimlessly fiddling with the loose threads. the silence was heavy — oppressive — broken only by the distant hum of the fridge upstairs and the faint drip of a leaky pipe.

you hear his boots first, the harsh thud-thud-thud down the rickety stairs instantly drawing your attention. when the door creaks open, your head snaps up instantly, eyes squinting in the sudden light spilling into the cramped space.

“still kickin’, bunny?” barry’s voice drawls, lazy and low as he reaches the bottom, cigarette perched between his lips.

you nod quickly, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. “‘m okay,” you whisper uncertainly, like you’re afraid of saying something wrong. “yeah?” he takes a long drag, the ember flaring as his dark eyes scan the room. “been eatin’? drinkin’? don’t need y’droppin’ dead on me.”

you hesitate before nodding slowly, voice softer this time. “um, had some of the crackers.. and a bit of water.” barry exhales a puff of smoke right into your face, smirking when you start to cough. “good, good. don’t wan’ y’wastin’ away, what kind of man’d i be then, huh?” you don’t answer, heart thumping painfully in your chest at his proximity.

“y’lookin’ after my place, right? he asks lightly, but you hear the underlying warning. “yes,” you blurt out immediately, “cleaned up — jus’ like you said. didn’t touch anything i wasn’t supposed to, i promise.”

barry crouches down in front of you, stained hand coming up to caress your soft cheek. his touch is rough and unwelcome and the stench of him invades all your senses — sweat and motor oil and cheap beer. it makes your stomach clench and turn on itself, makes your nose twitch and eyes water. “y’know bunny, you really oughta be grateful. not everyone’d take such good care of you. world’s a mean place for such a lil’ thing like you, it’d eat ya alive don’t y’think?”

you press your wobbly lips together, blinking away salty tears. his grip on your face tightens painfully, dirty fingernails digging into your skin. “answer me,” he says sharply, cigarette dangling dangerously close to your face. “ain’t i done right by you?”

“y-yeah,” you tremble like a leaf as you force out the words, trying not to gag at his breath. barry nods slowly, smirk curling into something darker. “you’d be a real hit with the sorta folks i deal with. but no—” he lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head and standing up. “gotta keep y’all to m’self.”

“could be sharin’ you around, makin’ somethin’ real sweet outta all that innocence y’got.” his words send cold terror through your body, a reaction so visceral you feel bile rising up your scratchy throat and goosebumps flooding your skin. you hear the threat loud and clear. “nah,” barry continues, carelessly flicking ash over your head. “too fuckin’ pretty f’that. too soft. wouldn’t last a minute out there without me, ‘n i guess i like havin’ somethin’ pretty t’come home to.”

the tears finally slip down your face, the warmth a stark contrast to the frigid air. you shove a hand over your mouth, trying to stop the sobs from escaping; you knew better than to be a nuisance. barry laughs bitterly as he turns around, shuffling over the steps once again. “listen, uhh. you keep y’mouth shut, yeah? gonna get us in trouble if you keep up all that cryin’ shit. don’t wan’ anyone sniffin’ around here. ‘n don’t you give me a reason to come back down here tonight. won’t end well, bun. won’t end well at all.”

[curiouslymyown]

i rarely post my writing, but surprise! 575 words, jegulus, fluff?

Regulus hated people getting too close to him, and flinched at even the slightest brush of somebody’s body against his.

Growing up in Grimmauld Place, things like that were never his choice. There was forced hugs from distant relatives he had never heard of. Cold hands placed on his shoulder, sharp nails digging into his skin. Bruising grips on his waist and thighs when he said something out of turn. It didn’t matter what he was doing, or where he was, someone was always holding him down.

When he started Hogwarts, people quickly learnt that getting too close to Regulus Black was an easy way to get yourself hexed. Even accidentally brushing your shoulder against his in the halls wouldn’t end well. There was only one person that didn’t make him recoil if he got too close, and that was Sirius. But even then, it was a rare occasion and only ever on his terms, but Sirius never pushed. He understood what it was like growing up how they did.

Then James started showing up. It wasn’t much at first, just a few flirty comments, a wink and a smile as bright as the boy wearing it. Regulus wasn’t an idiot, he knew James liked him, but he also knew he couldn’t give James the relationship that he wanted, so he forced himself to act disinterested.

Even as months past, James never stopped with his attempts at romancing Regulus, ranging from a simple, “hey, gorgeous,” in passing through the halls, to waiting outside one of his potions lessons, holding a single rose. It was when he did something so ridiculous and so beautifully James, that Regulus found his walls slowly breaking down. It was getting harder and harder to rebuild those walls, so Regulus began to avoid James completely.

It was going well, until one morning, when Regulus was walking to breakfast, he somehow found himself alone in a corridor with him. He tried to leave, hoping that he had gone unnoticed, but as he was turning around, ready to go back to his dorm and skip breakfast altogether, a hand wrapped itself around his wrist.

That was all it took for him to be back at that house, seven years old and a heavy hand unwavering on his arm. Nine years old, harsh fingers gripping his shoulders. Eleven years old, and nails piercing through his skin. Touching, always touching, holding him down, clawing at him, dragging him, deeper and deeper into somewhere he can’t escape from-

“Reg, please,” a voice so softly spoken, bringing him back, “please, don’t run from me.”

Regulus turned around, not looking up at the boy, but instead focusing on the hand now placed gently in his. After the immediate panic had settled, Regulus found that this was nothing like what he was used to. It was warm, and light, and he wasn’t being forced. He could easily let go, and they would no longer be touching, their arms falling to their sides, but Regulus didn’t want to. He liked the weight of James’ hand in his, and it was this that made him grip his hand a little tighter, finally looking up at the older boy.

“Okay.” Barely a whisper, his walls rapidly crashing around him.

“Okay?”

“Okay, James,” Regulus could hear his heart though his chest., “I won’t run.”

The smile that followed, Regulus could only hope he was responsible for more of something so beautiful in the future.