#but it’s hard to imagine what else it could be!!
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01zfan · 2 days ago
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never thought | l. at & s. es
boyfriend!anton x reader | 5.3k words
completely normal after the tonseok gym pics :D this is also just like pure filth LMFAO i apologize in advance.
contains: anton and his girlfriend are exhibitionists by accident, eunseok is a voyeur by accident, semi-public sex, dom/sub dynamics
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Eunseok didn’t know that Anton had it in him.
Eunseok knew that Anton had a crush on you and he knew that you reciprocated it. He knew that Anton asked you to hang out all those months ago, and you guys have been dating ever since. 
He also knew that Anton’s reserved nature was often brought up in their workout group. During the first post-workout locker room talk, Anton's gaze stayed locked on the tile floor of the bathroom. A towel draped over his wet shoulders and tightly wrapped around his waist while everyone else couldn't be bothered to cover up. The other boys walked around the area freely, more concerned with using their towels to dry their hair rather than remaining decent. No one noticed that Anton was trying so hard to conceal himself until Sungchan pointed out the red tips of his ears and his hands securely holding the wrap in his towel.
The group only took pity on Anton and moved on after the red spread across his entire body, but ever since then his shyness became a topic of discussion. Everyone found it endearing how Anton would shake his head and stay seated on the bench while everyone else roamed freely in the area. Eunseok paid close attention to how Anton would wait until no one else was around to change into his clothes, or how he would omit the showers all together. Eunseok noticed that if Anton left while everyone was showering that was his indirect way of saying the previous locker room talk went too far. If they brought you up, even in passing, Anton would without fail leave early the next gym session. Eunseok realized that the shrugging in his shoulders was Anton feigning indifference, and his head shake was a silent warning to not push the topic any further.
Eunseok made the mistake of assuming Anton's avoidance in talking about you was due to insecurity or shame. How could he talk about you in the locker room if there was nothing to say. What was Anton hiding, what was he lacking that made him so wary to bring you up?
Anton's non-confrontational attitude didn't help his case. If he didn't say what was bothering him they would not stop bringing it up. Eunseok and Anton’s shared friends would often tease him, chiding about his sweaty palms and the splotchy blushing mess his cheeks became at the drop of a hat. Anton’s tendency to trip over his words and his clumsiness when navigating small spaces made everyone think he was just one blunder after another. Anton did nothing to dispute this, he could get mad all he wanted but he could not deny fact. He would only sit on the bench in the locker room, eyes not focusing on anything as he shook his head and laughed to himself.
As time went on, and Anton started gaining muscle mass faster than everyone else in the group, he became extremely tightlipped when it came to you. He was still the same shy guy, batting off the teasing with a smile and a head shake, sometimes even a sly comment back that would illicit laughter. But if it was you, Anton became pointed looks and a side smile that showed annoyance. Everyone picked up on what Eunseok already knew and they credited it to jealousy too. Eunseok ended up considering a hint of possessiveness that rested underneath Anton’s compliant nature. Anton's refusal to talk about you made Eunseok believe that it was humiliating for Anton to bring up. He believed he was too afraid to admit he was the same submissive person with you like he was with his friends. 
Eunseok admittedly spent too much time thinking about the dynamics of your relationship with Anton. But in his defense, It's hard to not speculate when so much is left to the imagination. Anton's refusal to indulge his friends left so much up in the air. When Wonbin asked if you and Anton had done it and Anton's eyes got so wide they almost popped out of his head, everyone made their own assumptions. Sungchan believed you and Anton had done way more than the crew could even comprehend. Wonbin guessed that you two were waiting for marriage.
Eunseok knew it was wrong to think about it, to imagine what his friend was doing with his girlfriend in their moments alone. But he couldn’t help it. Everyone in their workout group made shots in the dark about the relationship, some were just doing it more than others. Eunseok would take the crown of being the most curious, but he just couldn’t see it, he couldn’t believe it. He had to run over the anatomy of your relationship anytime he saw you two together in an effort to make sense of it. He ended up making a shot in the dark just like his friends a long time ago. He convinced himself that you had to be the one who took the initiative, that you were the one that bossed Anton around. You were the one that coaxed him out of his shell, teaching him what you liked and didn’t like. 
His assumptions were backed with evidence. Even when you weren’t around, Anton spoke about you with devotion. Every word of yours was religion, you were name dropped in every conversation. Well she said was his favorite phrase. He bought you things he thought you’d like, stuffed in his cart before he ever thought of getting something for himself. His behavior was only worse when you were around. Anton hung to your every word. He was close to you like a shadow, holding your bags without a second thought. He slid his card into your wallet for safe keeping, took off his jacket to keep you warm before you even had the chance to be cold. He complimented you shyly each time like it was the first. You were his lockscreen and homescreen, you were his everything. Anton just always seemed so grateful, so desperate to please you. 
Eunseok believed it was natural for Anton to take such a submissive role for you in public because it was the same in the bedroom. Once he deluded himself into believing that was fact, Eunseok tried to figure out what made his friend that way and what made him avoid the topic of you two. What did you do to Anton that had him worshipping the ground you stepped on? What tricks did you do, what new world did you show him. He could only imagine what it was that had Anton so helplessly sprung. 
Laying alone in his bed at night was the only time Eunseok granted himself to think about it in depth. One hand underneath the covers while the other held his phone in landscape mode, ears straining to waiting for an insight on your relationship to leak through his headphones. 
When his vision on the video started becoming shaky and the sound through the wired headphones fell out, Eunseok started seeing it clearly. Instead of the videos found in the incognito, his mind would be replaced with visions of Anton and you. Your hands expertly on your clit while Anton silently watched the pattern. Your other hand feeling your chest, putting on a show for Anton watching your every move. Your two slender fingers being replaced with his thicker ones. Anton's unsteady and unsure movements while you swiveled your hips to make up for what he was lacking. Anton looking up to you with his big brown eyes, silently waiting for your approval. His untouched dick twitching and leaking in his pants when you’d give him a breathy just like that or a shaky affirming head nod. You guiding his hands to your body, showing him how to tease and pinch your skin just right. 
Eunseok imagined Anton going red all the way up to his ears each time he'd take his pants off. Every time without fail, as if it was your first time seeing him naked. He imagined Anton being a shaking mess when you guided his back to the bed, gently pressing on his wide shoulders. Eunseok could almost see Anton squeeze his eyes shut right before you would sink your body down on his.
He imagined Anton clenching his bedsheets desperately as you cooed at him and encouraging him to hold on. Assuring your boyfriend that you were almost there, you just needed a little more. Anton at the brink of tears telling you how badly he needed to cum. His words being cut off mid sentence as his orgasm took him completely by surprise. 
Eunseok always assumed Anton would be out of breath, out of energy after the first round. If Anton’s stamina in the gym was any indication of that he was sure his friend would want to tap out after one round. He could hear Anton's apologies, and then the tears finally spilling when you’d start grinding on him again. He'd cringe at the wet and lewd sound of him inside of you but strain to hear it all. Just one more you’d say in a demanding voice. Anton biting his lip red and swollen trying to hold back the pitiful sounds. Him apologizing more after the second wave a pleasure started kicking in and before he started speaking incoherently. Shaking his head trying to regain his composure before he’d repeat the same mistake again.
Eunseok could admit that his mind had the tendency to wander, but he had to fill in the gaps somehow. In his bedroom and his mind, where he made the rules, he had the complexities of your relationship figured out.
But as Eunseok pressed his head to the crack in the door he bared witness to the truth and everything else crumbled. 
There were instances of Eunseok seeing the dynamics you and Anton exhibited now. There was your birthday party, when Anton held your chin playfully in one hand while the other brought a frosting covered finger to your face. Eunseok remembers seeing your eyes flash and your lips parting obediently as if from muscle memory. He remembers seeing Anton’s eyes cut down to stare at your lips and him getting that same slick smile when he knew something others didn't. For a moment—before you two realized you were in the corner of the kitchen instead of the privacy of your bedroom—you looked so pliant, so willing. Eunseok saw both of you come back to the present in real time, his friends grip on your chin went back to being playful before he smeared the white frost across the apple of your cheek at the last second. 
There was that time Eunseok walked in on you two cramped together on the tiny loveseat in the common area. It was late at night then, a show neither of you were watching played on the television as you straddled Antons’ lap. Anton was consuming then, even in the dark living room Eunseok could make that out clearly. His hand on your waist pulled your frame against his, his hand clasped on the back of your neck guided you the exact way he wanted you to. You two didn’t notice Eunseok standing there then. The two of you were so caught up in eachother that you couldn’t spare anything else to look to the side. Eunseok ended up tiptoeing back to his room, closing his door shut softly just to open it up again loudly. When he reentered the living room you were suddenly on the other side of the couch, your chest heaving as Anton pretended to look at his phone relaxed and even. You were the only one that spoke to Eunseok, smiling at him sweetly like there wasn’t lipstick smudged across your lips. 
Even if Eunseok had seen Anton assert some sort of authority or dominance, it was always fleeting. Everything would happen so quick Eunseok would barely be able to catch it. Smaller moments like Anton gently pulling you the way he wanted to go, his hand resting on the back of your neck before he’d squeeze just to smile at you tensing up—things like this were gone in the blink of an eye. What Eunseok saw most of was his friend being hopelessly in love with you, smiling and blushing profusely when you called him Tonie in a sickly sweet voice.
Hearing the nickname fall from your lips was what brought Eunseok back to the present.
“Tonie” You repeated the nickname the same time Eunseok shifted closer to the crack in the door. “Too much.” You said weakly.
Eunseok was on his knees, shifting from side to side to get the view of you two through the small opening. One of his hands was planted on the ground, the same way your two feet were planted to the ground in front of the inclined workout bench. Eunseok’s other hand dared to push at the weighted door, opening it up.
“What? It's too big for you?” Anton teases.
Eunseok swears he’s not hearing things right. Anton’s tone is too condescending for this to be real. Anton was supposed to be whiny, unsure of himself, and he was supposed to be the one being asked embarrassing questions. Explicit words said with a light sneer shouldn't roll off his tongue so easily.
He shouldn't be the one that licks his lips when you whine in response before purposefully fucking you harder. You’re supposed to be the one with the cards in your hands. The only job Eunseok sees you have is the responsibility of taking all of Anton, over and over again as he pulls your body back on his.
“Too big.” You answer quickly.
You clench your hand around nothing the same time your words are cut off by a sharp thrust. Eunseok can’t believe it.
“Just a little more, baby.” Anton was seated against the incline of the bench, both hands holding your upper arms as he guided you backwards to meet his hips. He was preoccupied talking to you, instead looking at the lines of your back jerk from the movements. “Doing so good for me.” He sighed.
His voice is alot more relaxed than yours is. Each time he brings you back by the hold he has on your arms he grunts, but he is faring much better than you. You’re a mess, so different from the collected girl Anton gets shy even looking at. Eunseok can clearly see your teary eyes, your bitten lips, and how you don't care your body is spilling from your tight shirt. 
Eunseok didn’t know Anton had it in him. He didn’t know this side of you existed. He is overwhelmed by the sight, so confused by the body Anton spent so much time hiding and not talking about. Eunseok is ashamed to admit that the scene in front of him is enticing. He watches you two in your natural habitat, how you behave when no one is watching. In the small private gym it is just the two of you, falling into your separate roles to chase after the same feeling.
“Always so wet for me.” Anton says it like a fact. 
He looks away from where you too meet to look at the back of your head. Eunseok sees an almost evil smile on Anton’s face when you nod your head, trying so hard to form a coherent thought as he readjusts the hold he has on your arms.
“Feels so good.” You stammer.
Eunseok doesn’t know how long you two have been doing this. He’s never at the gym during Anton’s day of the week with you. He only swung by because he left something the day prior, he followed the sounds from his locker to here, sitting in the dark hallway of private exercise rooms watching you try to drive your hips backwards to meet Anton.
"What if I stopped?" Anton asks playfully.
“Please don’t stop.” Your tone is pathetically serious, almost pleading as you try and look back to see Anton's face.
As if you weren’t struggling enough, he takes his hands off of your arms. Without his strength your lack of energy is obvious. Eunseok can see your feet slide forward from your loss of stability, the way you helplessly whine from the loss as you try to find your footing on the wooden floor. Eunseok has to catch his breath with you, matching your deep inhales of air with quiet ones. 
Eunseok has never seen you so weak. He always imagined Anton would be the one whining as he tried to gather his energy, that it would be Anton to silently ask for help. Eunseok would’ve never thought it’d be you who ended up being a shaking mess after only bouncing your hips twice.
Eunseok thought it’d be you in Anton's place. Unaffected, hands behind your head as you admired the sight in front of you. But it’s Anton who is unabashedly dragging his eyes down your back and running his hands through his hair without a care in the world.
“Keep going.” Anton murmurs.
His tone is quiet but firm. Eunseok thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Anton boss anyone around, but you listen so quickly. You dig your nails into Anton’s hard thighs for extra leverage. Eunseok sees the muscles in your arm strain underneath your skin as you raise and lower yourself on his dick again.
“There you go.” Anton praises.
Anton leans forward to kiss your sweaty shoulder blade. His lips are right over the strap of your tank top, the one that does nothing to hide your body now. He has to readjust the front of your shirt to conceal your chest again, he has to pull down the bottom to cover your soft stomach, and pull up the other strap until it rests on your shoulder again. He pats your covered skin when you're decent again, only for it all to get ruined as you continue to ride him recklessly. In seconds your tight shirt rides up your stomach again and your chest spills from the top. He only laughs at the sight, and your bounces suddenly switch to another unstable attempt at a rhythm.
“You're struggling, baby?” Anton asks and the smile on his face only gets bigger.
Eunseok can’t stop his eyes from widening at how easily the teasing falls from Anton’s lips. His jaw drops to the floor when he sees you quickly shake your head in response.
"I got it." You lie.
Anton only hums in response, experimentally pressing his hand between your shoulder blades. Eunseok watches him apply the smallest bit of force, just to see your weak body yield to him. Anton hums again, his gaze going from the space his hand occupies to the back of your head.
“Feels good right?” He asks.
You nod your head even faster, dropping yourself on Anton’s dick so fast the sound of your ass slapping against his lap fills the room.
“So good.” You hum in response.
When Anton takes his hands away from you completely, that’s when Eunseok finally lets his hand go to his own body. As if Anton is bossing him around too, Eunseok moves the same way you do. When you tilt your head to the side so Anton can press his teeth into your neck Eunseok tips his too. When you lean back Eunseok does the same. He sits on his knees, resting back on his haunches as he palms himself over his gray sweatpants.
“Fuck.” Anton breathes to himself.
His hands are clasped behind his head watching you do all the work. The effort from before shows on his skin. Eunseok sees the sweat and the splotches of blush that paints Anton’s body and face. He can see the sweat forming on his brow and chest that makes his black compression shirt cling to him even more.
Even now, without touching you, Anton slightly flicks his hips upwards to meet you each time you come down. But he is lax, watching your body move from the force of your drops.
“Keep riding me, princess.” Anton says softly.
When your response is a little too loud, Eunseok bites his lip. His dick twitches against his palm when Anton leans forward to grip your chin in one hand. He doesn’t even have to pry his fingers between your jaw to get your lips to part. Just like on your birthday you do it mindlessly, a string of spit webbing between your drool covered lips. Just like you two seemingly wished to do on your birthday Anton brings his fingers to your mouth and presses them heavily on your tongue. Eunseok watches your lips close around him immediately, hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around. Anton fucks your mouth with his two fingers, pushing deep almost causing you to gag, before pulling back.
“So good at listening to me.” Anton says.
Eunseok thinks he’s about to explode. His hand pressing against his bulge isn’t enough. Looking at you two through a crack in the door and from the reflections of the room wide mirrors isn’t enough.
“You listen to me so well.” Anton comes closer and wraps his hand that isn’t in your mouth around your waist. “If only everyone knew.” He teases.
For the first time, Eunseok watches you be defiant. Even as you continue bouncing on his lap through the burning pain in your legs, even as spit dribbles down your chin due to an overworked gag reflex, even as you let yourself be consumed by Anton’s frame. You shake your head somehow speeding up the way you drop down onto him.
“It’s a secret.” You gargle behind his now three fingers.
Eunseok’s hand wraps around his dick inside of his sweats when he sees Anton lick his lips before fake pouting. 
“Oh I know.” Anton voice drips with fake sympathy. “Our little secret.” He promises.
Eunseok feels the hairs raise on the back of his neck when Anton runs his hands over the planes of your shoulder. Eunseok watches you pause on his lap and he gets even closer to the crack in the door. His dick is twitching in his hand, precum wets his tip and in between his fingers.
Anton is out of his view when he moves his body. Eunseok scoots closer to the opening, swaying his head from side to side trying to find the angle to give his eyes the widest view.
When he gets too close, just when he finds his spot, Eunseok sees that Anton is looking at him. Narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow peaking in the darkness of the hallway Eunseok is crouched in. 
Fear shoots up his spine. Eunseok’s hand completely stills its tugging movements. He pulls in a breath so quiet and so deep that his vision spots. Anton looks directly at him. Eunseok can see Anton looking right at him, but Anton doesn’t move. He only cranes his head and narrows his eyes further trying to find someone in the shadows. Eunseok freezes like a deer in the headlights.
“Tonie.” You whimper.
Your undistracted voice makes Eunseok’s hand continue to move, even while Anton stares directly through him. Anton is still looking for something, prying eyes trying to find a presence he can feel but can’t see. 
“Tonie.” When you drag out his name, Anton goes back to you. With one last side glance at the hallway he lets his fingers slide from your mouth. “I’m so close again.” You whine.
“We gotta be fast.” Anton orders gently. 
You nod, bringing one of your hands to quickly wipe across your face. You get the spit, smeared chapstick, and tears in one go, bringing in a sniffle before you plant your hands on his thighs again. 
But when you are prepared to continue bouncing on his lap until you make even more pitiful and even louder noises, Anton has other plans. Eunseok can see it in the way he wraps both hands around your waist, he sees it as someone looking in before you can even notice. 
At the drop of a hat Anton flips you around, where you’re the one with the side of your face pressed against the incline of the bench while he mounts you from behind. You’re in a haze, completely pliant to Anton’s impatient hand that guides one of your knees to rest on the edge of the bench to open you up wider so he can slot himself between your legs. 
The change in position and balance causes you to helplessly grip the head of the bench to find stability. Once again Eunseok can no longer see Anton’s face, but he imagines he’s looking down at where your hole clenches around nothing. He sees Anton rest one of his feet on the low cushioned bar for leg curls to get an optimum angle. Eunseok can see everything this way, the way your ass wiggles towards Anton’s dick and the glisten that goes down your thigh. Eunseok can see your cheek smushed against the incline of the bench, how it causes your lips to pout and pucker. 
Eunseok can see it all, except for Anton. When he watches Anton’s hand wrap around his dick he moves in the tiny space of the hallway again. 
But this time, when Eunseok can see everything, he sees Anton staring straight at him. He’s not staring into the darkness, he’s not looking at what he thinks is a person. The way Anton's eyes widen in shock and the red deepens on his neck tells Eunseok everything he needs to know. His hand stops in his pants, even when his dick continues to pulse in his grasp. Anton freezes too. 
Eunseok and Anton both refuse to look away until you lift your heavy head from the incline. Eunseok watches you turn, completely ignoring the Eunseok shaped shadow in the crack of the door to look at your boyfriend with pleading eyes.
“Tonie, please.” Your hand blindly reaches behind you in an effort to guide Anton’s dick the rest of the way. “Don’t tease me.” You beg.
Anton can barely pull himself away from Eunseok slowly continuing to tug at himself again to look at you. He leans forward, pressing his shirt clad chest to your back to kiss your cheek. He moves his hips out of the way, making your hand hover in space, looking for something Anton purposefully moved out of reach. When you whine again he smiles against the apple of your cheek.
“Not teasing you, babe.” He says.
“Yes you are.” You pout, and Eunseok can almost hear the beginning of a cry in your voice.
When you close your eyes to preen your head towards Anton’s lips, he casts another glance to Eunseok. His confused state turns to a jealous one when he realizes Eunseok hasn’t stopped his ministrations on himself. Anton purposefully obstructs Eunseok’s view, wedging his body between your ass and Eunseok’s line of sight. He perches his foot on the leg curl bar again, and casts one more look to Eunseok. The look Anton gives Eunseok shatters everything. The upturn in his lips, the amusement in knowing what Eunseok is doing on the other end of the door, the way he hides you from Eunseok’s view. 
It’s a quick look, one that disappears fast like all the other cracks Eunseok has seen in Anton’s resolve. Quickly he is sucked back into the moment and you, his head tilts back from the relief the same time he brings a hand down on the swell of your ass that Eunseok can’t see.
When Eunseok can no longer handle the view of Anton’s rippling muscles underneath his compression shirt he looks down to himself instead. He’s so close, on the same cusp of insanity that you’re on. Anton knows it, Eunseok knows he does. His hands wrap around your waist to bring your hips back quickly. He fucks you with a fervor that shakes the weight stand your other hand clings to.
“Squeezing me so tight.” Anton leans forward to clasp his hand over yours. Eunseok can’t see a single part of you as Anton uses his body to cover you completely. He speaks loud enough for Eunseok to hear, the lewd sounds you make leaks into the hallway after bouncing off the mirrored walls. “Doing that on purpose?” He asks.
You don’t even speak anymore. Only pitched moans are pulled from the back of your throat. You were always the talker between the two of you. Anton nodding along to every word you say. Now he is the one filling in the gaps of silence, pinching your cheek playfully when he realizes you have nothing to say.
“Must feel really good, huh?” He teases.
Eunseok doesn’t blame you for the pathetic yeah that escapes your lips almost instantly. His hand speeds up in his sweats, the fabric jumps as the metal equipment shakes around you two.
“Are you gonna cum?” Anton asks.
Eunseok paints his hand and the inside of his pants before you can answer. His orgasm takes him so suddenly his pitches forward, his hand presses into the wall as he looks down at the ground in front of him. He sees his thighs twitch as his whole body contracts. Eunseok’s sweaty hair cascades and blocks his vision as his hips start rutting into his hand. He fucks his hand like a hormonal teenager while Anton commands you to cum around him. His words drown out the tiny sound that slips past Eunseok’s bitten lips. 
When Eunseok looks up from the ground, he can see Anton give you one final thrust before he pulls out completely. Anton pumps his dick quickly as you come down from the same high Eunseok just experienced. He watches Anton reach down quickly into his bag before he finally releases. The amount of control and precision Anton makes Eunseok realize he is wearing the mess he made, that there is already an obvious stain forming right in the front. 
Anton is tidy, his mess is clean before you even catch your breath. You’re weak and spent, back against the incline of the bench as you look up to Anton looking down at you. Your weak hand pinches and prods at his thick thighs, the other grazes over his taut lower stomach. You can’t bring yourself to widen your sleepy eyes, you can barely stifle a yawn as you lean further into the bench.
One second Anton is solid underneath you, the next he is soft and giggling. You can only give him a weak smile as you continue touching him. As if a switch had been flipped you’re no longer feeling him up but tickling him. He playfully grabs your hands, both wrists contain in your hand as he wipes away the tears collected at your waterline. 
Eunseok is bewildered to see the bright smile on Anton’s lips. He’s no longer eating you alive but putting you back together, guiding your legs into an extra pair of sweats he had stuffed in his gym bag. Anton tends to you before he even thinks about tending to himself, kissing your cheeks sweetly in between each action.
You’re still collecting yourself when Anton is ready to go. He has to pull you up from the bench with both hands, he has to offer to carry you before you shake your head and lament you can walk. 
Eunseok sneaked off long before Anton opened the door for you the rest of the way and let you stagger through first. He was out of the parking lot before Anton buckled you into the passenger seat. He was home laying in bed by the time Anton started running a warm shower for you.
Eunseok absolutely didn’t know Anton had it in him.
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ghouljams · 1 day ago
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Okay but what does Hephaestus!Nikto think of his wife and their interactions.
This might not be the tone we’re looking for, but I can’t help but imagine the man hearing his wife laugh or seeing her smile at him and suddenly he’s hard. But he’s too scarred and damaged for a precious thing like her, so his hand it is
Absolutely. I mean, why would a pretty thing like you want someone as mutilated as him? It's bad enough you keep finding your way to his workshop. Bad enough that when he works iron the heat leaves your skin shimmering with sweat, your clothes sticking to the soft curves and fat of your body. Bad enough that you wander in with little more than sandals to cover your feet, that you don't complain when he watched you pick shaved metal off your sole from the corner of his eye. Bad enough that you sit and watch him with such rapt fascination that he can't help but show off the small miracles only he can create. Bad enough that your presence makes him adjust his schedule, that he's running late on orders, that every jewel he sees makes him think of you even when he knows he can't make it into anything half as beautiful. And it's bad enough that he tries anyway, that he hopelessly tinkers with his latest sparkle to try and create something worthy of presenting to you as a marriage token.
Because maybe if he could, he wouldn't find himself standing beside your bed, he'd let himself climb in beside you. But he can't. He has too much work to do keeping up with orders that you stall during the day. He's too ugly. He's too deformed. Too scarred. Too broken. Too hateful and angry. Too scared that he'll hold on too tight to the little fish that swam ashore and he'll end up breaking every needling bone in your body. It's bad enough that you've found your way onto land, must he be the one to kill you before suffocation takes its course?
He doesn't know what cruel joke this is, making him husband to you, but he hasn't laughed in a long time.
You sneak up behind him in the forge, press your fingers against the tightness in his back with a pressure that makes him swear. Why does your tough burn so intensely, he can hold hot iron without flinching but one touch from you and he recoils. Your apologies are worse.
"I thought your back must hurt," you tell him.
"Back is fine," he grunts, "don't touch."
It's not running away, he tells himself, if he grabs a hammer and goes from his tinkering to his forging. Fire is a heat he knows, a pain he can find comfort in. The soft plea in your eyes is something else entirely, and he can't have you seeing the tightness it inspires in his chest, or the way it swells between his legs.
You'd be better off without a monster for a husband. Shouldn't you be smart enough to take the hint and go already?
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billthedrake · 21 hours ago
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THANKSGIVING QUICKIE
It must have been a special occasion, because Cooper's parents let him sleep in. But it was Thanksgiving and the high school senior had turned in an incredible performance on the football field the evening before. He had come back home amped up on adrenaline and in no mood to go to bed at a reasonable time.
The jock stirred in bed now, his short sandy brown hair all mussed. It took a second to realize that a knock had roused him. The door opened, and his father peeked in.
"OK if I come in, buddy?" he asked.
The 18-year-old leaned up in bed, the covers slipping off his bare torso. He'd packed on muscle over the last couple of years, a lot lately. His dad had encouraged his gym and diet obsessions, maybe but it was kind of Cooper's thing. That need for perfection and athletic excellence.
"Um yeah," he answered with a soft croak.
Brian Murray slipped in and quietly shut the door behind him. That's how Cooper's still groggy brain knew what was on his father's mind. Indeed, as the 48 year old stepped in, there was a noticeable boner in his sweatpants.
"Your mother's making the turkey," he said, with a conspiratorial smile. "I figure that buys us a little time."
This was a game Cooper and his dad were playing. More and more it seemed. Neither knew if the risk turned them on, or if it was just too hard to resist fooling around.
The teen nodded. "It's been a few days," he said. Seductively, he slipped the covers down to reveal his half naked body. Mostly smooth, though some soft hairs were growing in on his chest and down a treasure trail leading to this boxer briefs, which were tented with morning wood.
It was Brian's turn to feel his voice catch as he stepped up to the bed. "That's beautiful," he said softly, his finger tracing along Cooper's strong quad muscle with its short brown hairs. His eyes swept up his son's form, taking in the eight pack and the taut chest and shoulder muscle. "You're beautiful, Coop."
The athlete's eyes swept up his father's form. The old man was beautiful to Cooper too. Handsome. Masculine. Whatever the word was, Cooper felt his Dad would make fun of him for saying it. But Brian Murray was in his prime, the ex-jock build thicker and bulkier these days but kept in fine form with manual labor and devoted time at the gym.
With a naughty grin, Cooper lifted his hips and slid down his underwear. The shank of cock hadn't softened a bit since waking up and it practically jerked in excitement now, especially with his father's eyes on it.
Brian gave a soft horny grin as his fingers traced up Cooper's legs, admiring all that tight end muscle he'd practically memorized for his jerk off sessions. 6'5" and 230 pounds of hard muscle. A beast on the field, but at home Coop was something else... a sweet kid who'd grown in to a bonafide Daddy's boy. Brian didn't deserve a son like this. And yet...
The father looked over his shoulder and tugged down his lounge pants. The thick piece of paternal cock stood up, maybe not with the innate rigidity of an 18-year-old, but it sure felt that level of fuck hard.
"How much time we got, Dad?" came the footballer's voice, still sleepy.
Brian was getting full on horny now. Like, seeing white, crazy horny. "Just a few minutes," he replied. Jenn probably wouldn't have any reason to come up to Coop's room, but they were taking a risk already. "Why?"
Cooper took in the sight of his father's cock. It was a like a new toy, though even over the course of the last two months, the jock had become strangely familiar with the dick that had made him. Its size, its shape, its texture and its taste. He looked up into this father's hungry brown eyes. "It's just been a while since... you know?"
Brian smiled. He loved how shy the kid could get sometimes. Particularly after his son's sexual imagination was what had fueled a lot of their crazy affair. "Yeah buddy?" he growled.
Cooper nodded excitedly and spread his powerful legs. The hunky young stud lay back in his bed and pulled those thighs back, showing off his still mostly smooth crack to his dad.
"Fuuuccck..." Brian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. Already his hand was drawn down to that magic spot. Brian had been Coop Murray's first. The first few times had been a real challenge but now Cooper was a little more skilled at taking his Dad that way. The father tried to think with his head, rather than let his dick call the shots. "Maybe we can find some time tomorrow, OK, buddy?"
Coop nodded, but he knew his Dad wasn't taking the initiative to pull back from the soft gentle fingering of his vulnerable pucker. "Come on, Dad... it can be a quickie, right?" he pleaded, like he was asking to stay out past curfew. "You probably won't last long."
Brian chuckled. He had one persuasive kid, but Brian also had to laugh at how right his son was: Brian's normal sexual experience and composure went out the window once he was inside Cooper.
The man took a deep breath and pushed the thin flannel pants all the way down and stepped out of them.
Cooper was already reaching behind his bed, where he stashed the vaseline.
The mattress sagged from almost 500 pounds of male flesh as Brian climbed up onto the bed, hardon pointing up to the ceiling. Normally composed, the middle-aged man's body was shaking as he watched Cooper dig his long digits into the petroleum jelly and lovingly slather it onto his dad's cock. Just as methodically, Brian took the tub from his son's hand and dug in for the own daub of jelly to smear on Coop's tight ring.
Setting it aside, he scooted up and started working the slickness into his son's hole. Eyes locked on Cooper's he did his best to read the athlete's reaction.
"Feel good, Coop?" he asked quietly. This was a crazy risk but both men were turned on like mad.
Cooper nodded. "Yah." Then, "feels great, sir."
God, this kid... Brian pushed a second inside Cooper. "It's gonna sting going in," he cautioned. Giving Coop an out if he wanted it.
The jock was ready for this though. It had been a solid week since their last fuck. "I know, Dad." Then realizing he was speaking too loud, he lowered his voice too. "I like that part, too, actually."
"Goddamn," Brian hissed. He pulled his hand back and moved his hips into place. "I'm gonna have the worst case of empty nest syndrome next year, you know."
Cooper smiled. The separation was going to be hard on him, too. So he was determined to enjoy every minute now. He pulled his legs back tighter now as his dad placed a pillow under his hips to raise the ass just right. The sight was incredible. As much as Cooper loved seeing his dad naked, there was something equally hot about seeing the man in his holiday casual mode, bedhead and a well-worn Bama T-shirt clinging to all that middle-aged beef. Cooper knew the only minor disappointment he'd ever given his father was not signing to play Alabama football.
"Ooof," the jock let out despite himself. Maybe one of these days the penetration would go smoother. Maybe one of these days his dad would learn that an ass takes more patience than a pussy.
Brian looked down in excitement. "Told ya, Coop," he said in apology. "You good?"
"Yeah," the tight end answered as he forced his teeth to unclench.
"Sure?" the father asked, battling his urge to just plow in.
"Sure I'm sure, Dad," Cooper answered just above a whisper. "Fuck me."
If the entry was uncomfortable, the sensation of that that thick dad bone riding over Cooper's internal spot was pure pleasure. THIS is what had him finally losing interest in hetero stories and porn videos and focusing on men. As Brian Murray' dong pressed against his prostate, Cooper's own prick jolted and dripped above his eight pack.
"A quickie, remember, Dad," the jock urged his dad.
Brian's voice croaked. "Yeah." Then his hips powered forward. All the way in. Buried inside his own son, his own flesh and blood. The wrongness of the act had him coming back like a moth to flame, unable to gain any self control.
And beyond the mental pull of mating with Cooper, there was the sheer physical sensation of his son's ass, milking his cock with steady soft clenching around Brian. Each fuck was a give and take between his son pushing him out and sucking him in. Between Brian's restraint and his pure male need.
"Yeah, Dad..."
Brian looked down at Cooper. So innocent. And yet an active sex partner. Active in a way Jenn never was. The jock stud looked up with sheer need, that teen hardon a sign of just how much the kid frickin loved it. How much he needed his daddy.
The father's hips were moving faster now. The bed was squeaking, goddamnit, but it was too late to stop now. Not with his son looking and giving that nod, that silent permission to cum inside him. For an inexperienced young man, at least inexperienced in THIS, Cooper sure had developed a keen sense of timing. He knew when his dad was climbing to orgasm, not quite at the point of no return, but close to it. Just then, the jock wrapped his sticky slick palm around his shank of hard meat and began stroking in sync to his father's thrusts.
"Jesus!" Brian hissed. The way Coop's insides clenched and fluttered around that dad bone was just incredible. They'd never actually done this before, but the two Murray men were gonna cum at exactly the same moment.
The father made sure of that. He may have not been in full control, but he paused his sexual response just four seconds, and it was enough. He could feel his O face forming just as he watched Coop's.
The mutual orgasm was wordless but both men let out a simultaneous grunt. Brian's hips seized into a deep plow and unleashed a load that was bigger than it had any right to be given he'd just fucked his wife the night before. And who knows how often the kid jerked off, the teenager he was, but Brian's nostrils filled with that floral-musky scent of his boy's own cum as Cooper pumped out a healthy load onto his taut, muscled torso.
They stayed locked like this for just a couple of seconds, savoring the aftershocks of the orgasm that were part of the pleasure itself.
Finally, Brian's guilt kicked in and more than that his senses returned. They were crazy for doing this with his wife, Coop's mother, just downstairs. He gently withdrew and then quickly got off the bed, finding his lounge pants to slip back on.
"Get cleaned up," he said brusquely. "Then see if you can help your mother out with anything, OK?"
"Yeah, Dad," Cooper said in polite resignation. He didn't blame his father for acting like that. After all, it was the jock who pushed his dad past his comfort zone, A LOT. But after the hotness of the sex, Cooper felt the urge for a quiet emotional time with his dad.
Brian slipped out a quietly as he entered. He was crazy, but he was glad in a way. It would have been torture to get through Thanksgiving dinner craving Coop the whole time. At least the fuck would take the egde off in a major way.
By the time the father had showered and changed into nicer holiday dinner clothes, he came down to the dining room to see Cooper dutifully setting the table. His son looked up with a smirk. Brian had to let out a silent laugh and shake his head.
He stepped into the kitchen. "Smells great, honey," he said, stepping behind Jenn and massaging his shoulders as she stirred the gravy. He gave a soft kiss to her blond hair. Yeah, Brian was a schmuck, but he did appreciate how his wife made these days special.
"You know you're in the way in the kitchen," she said in a soft laugh that let Brian know she wasn't too upset. "Why don't you help Cooper... the water glasses need to be put out."
"Aye aye captain," the masculine building contractor joked and stepped away from his wife's petite frame.
He entered the dining room as Cooper was finishing placing the silverware around the settings. Silently, Brian set down the glasses and circled that table across Cooper. His eyes watched his son, who returned his father's gaze with a silent communication. Conspiracy. Secret. There were no words to convey the gravity of their affair. But Brian knew that even if his son had showered up, that there was still a healthy load of Brian's cum deep inside the jock. He knew Coop would keep that semen inside him, prized more than one of his football trophies.
Their eyes flitted back and locked once more. Then knowing the coast was clear, Brian stepped around. "I forgot something earlier," he whispered.
"What?" Cooper said.
God, his son talked like a college kid already, testosterone deepness tinging his young voice.
Brian could hear the sounds of his wife whisking the pot. The coast was clear. He raised his hand and wrapped his fingers around his son's neck, pulling Cooper's face toward his. The kiss was soft with lots of gentle tongue.
"Love you," the father lipped silently when he pulled back.
That brought a big smile on the football player's face. Not a grin, a real smile. He now leaned in to place his mouth closer to his dad's ear. "Love you too, Dad."
Just then the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the first of the in-laws.
"Hold that thought, buddy," Brian said with a chuckle as he pulled back, meeting his son's eyes once more before going to answer the door.
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whoreforsexymen · 1 day ago
Note
heeeey!!!! Im back with more jayce request. I would like to see jayce x reader with the prompts “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” and “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”. This is giving me like rivals or enemies to lovers where jayce and the reader have some heavy sexual tension under the surface. One day jayce just loses all patience and snaps and takes all of his stress and anger out on the reader
Sink Like A Stone | Jayce Talis
Prompt Fic (See, Prompt List)
Tumblr media
Prompt(s) Used:
#2 "Don't act like you didn't want to end up under me like this."
#21 "Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."
Pairings: Jayce x Fem!Reader
Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns + Female Anatomy Descriptions
Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!
Word Count: 8.3k (IDK what happened)
Tags: Songfic, INTENSE Smut, INTENSE Angst, VERY SLIGHT dub-con (it's not really dubcon--Jayce just get's really consumed by anger at one point--the unspoken consent is there) Hate-fucking, Lovers to Enemies then back to Lovers (??), Choking, Semi-Public Sex, Biting, Slapping, etc.
Summary: You and Jayce are ex-lovers. You hate him for plagiarizing and stealing your life's work, and he hates you for leaving him over what he considered a selfless act. After months of having not seen each other, you two get into a heated screaming match turned hate-fucking. However, Jayce may have let his emotions get the better of him.
Notes: OKOKOK, so. Be warned. This one is a DOOZY. I was in no way planning on adding 90% of the elements I added to this story. They just kind of happened.
(Special note to @milkbean69 !! I really took this and ran with it. If you want me to redo it in a much tamer way. Please let me know and I will.)
((((Side note, this is going to have to be a two-parter! Stay tuned for part two, which will be much softer.))))
‘We lie,
Cold.’
Jayce.
A name so simple, so unassuming, it would slip unnoticeably through anyone else’s mind. But to you, it holds weight. Each syllable, each breath that forms it, feels impossibly significant—a name that stirs something deep within you, a quiet echo of poignancy known only by you.
Your feelings towards the Jayce Talis you once knew were complex and hard to define. On one hand, you despised the way he insinuated himself into the council of Piltover’s most prestigious Academy, taking a seat you believed was rightfully yours—one you had fought tooth and nail to earn.
‘Dam up the river,
We can go, slow.’
His so-called “vision” for Piltover’s future, with that abominable Hextech nonsense, had directly sabotaged the plans you’d spent years perfecting. You may not have had the luxury of Arcane magic to ease trade, but you had crafted a much more practical blueprint to connect Piltover to the rest of Runeterra’s trading world.
Yet the moment Jayce and his fragile “partner” wielded their so-called “magic,” your ideas were dismissed, overlooked, and ultimately erased.
‘We don’t wanna,
Know.’
On the other hand, you had always considered him a friend—seemingly more at times—until the day he practically ripped the rug of your life’s work out from under your feet.
Not to mention he had the gall to call it his idea. “His” idea? Please. It was your idea, just re-wrapped in a fancy mystical package. You had worked on it together, after all. Jayce had spent countless hours rambling about the mysticism and potential of those tiny blue stones of his, insisting they could revolutionize everything you had ever strived to achieve. Never once did you imagine that, once he unlocked their power, he’d turn against you, abandoning the partnership and the vision you had once shared.
‘Dull down our senses,
Become numb.'
What kind of name was Hextech, anyhow? It felt devoid of sophistication, lacking both subtlety and the gravitas one might expect from something so profound. It didn’t quite capture the essence of what it was—an intricate fusion of magic and technology—nor did it convey any sense of elegance or purpose.
Although, you couldn’t deny that you often reminisced in memories of your life before his grandiose “discovery”—robbery, really— of Hextech—your idea.
‘We take our time
Ignoring all the signs
Living in fear of our lies
Never bad enough to break it
Or, good enough to feel right.’
You had spent the better portion of your youth with him, much of it tangled amidst bedsheets, consumed by a shared, desperate need to relinquish each other’s physical tensions.
‘Been in overtime,
Half our lives.’
Sometimes, you could still feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips grazing your skin—and other, much more tender, places. You could easily recall how your body had ached for him at times, but even more painfully, how your heart had longed for him, too. A truth you never dared to utter aloud.
The absence of anything beyond those intense moments of passion never really crossed your mind during the thick of it all. You never questioned it, and in hindsight, you’re almost thankful you didn’t—especially after what he had done after all that time. All of the time spent together, collectively fantasizing over your dreams and aspirations of a better life for all citizens, and a better future for the next generations to come.
‘Under indecision,
We become so dependent.
On the rush,
Of the moment.’
The bitterness that had consumed your heart was unbearable now, and the thought of ever confessing your feelings to him seemed almost unfathomable—impossible to imagine how much worse it could have been for you now if you had.
By this point, you were acutely aware of how deeply you loathed him. Your physical desires had long since faded, especially since you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months. You had even gone so far as to move to a place he couldn’t find, cutting off every trace of connection, and the bond you once had.
Your skin ached with longing for him, your body and soul craving his touch once more. Yet, no matter how intense the desire, you would never allow him a single opportunity to return to your life.
It was a painful contradiction to bear—hating him, yet craving him all the same. You felt trapped, consumed by hopelessness, unable to escape the turmoil inside.
‘Sanitize
My head.’
You hadn’t moved far—just to the other side of Piltover, away from The Academy, the council, and—most importantly—-Jayce, himself.. The distance was a great relief. In your day-to-day life, there was no real risk of encountering him, and that small sense of safety gave you some peace of mind.
However…
You often found yourself testing that peace, pushing the boundaries of the distance you’d created. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was the deep, unresolved desperation for him, or perhaps a semi-conscious, self-destructive choice of yours.
‘Death murders
Everything in sight.’
Each night, you found yourself walking almost the entire length of Piltover, from your new home to the Hexgate monolith on the far end—the very place you had fought so hard to escape.
Seeing the towering structure always left you with a deep, melancholic thrum in your chest. It represented everything you had once hoped for, everything you had worked and slaved over, now reduced to rubble by its mere presence.
‘Beneath the rip in the wind
The pillar push you aside.’
That tower stood as an unyielding symbol of betrayal, a constant reminder of the anger and anguish that had shattered your world at the mercy of Jayce’s hands.
‘If I make way
I can taste your sigh.
Just like the cannibal amp
It knows sound is size.’
On your nightly walks, you would make your way down the stone pier that lead to the water, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. When you reached the end, you’d grasp the railing that kept people from tumbling over the cliff’s edge, gluing yourself to the present moment.
‘Push me to
The brink, I said
Well that bitch
Is a creep
It tried to know what I think.’
There, you’d gaze up at the tower, lost in thought—re-evaluating and wondering how differently your life might have unfolded if Jayce hadn’t betrayed you—-if he hadn’t stolen your idea and torn everything apart.
‘To breathe out passion
Or suck in fate
You think the world was made
To wield your weight
And bleed out?’
Tonight was no different. Here you were, hood drawn—- hands shoved deep in your pockets—-your bodice pulled tight as you hunched in quiet disdain, eyes locked on nothing but the ground that passed underfoot.
Your expression was sour as you traced every wrong turn your life had taken to bring you here. Your chest felt heavy, as if the weight of it all pressed itself down upon you out of sheer spite.
Your mind buzzed, a relentless whirl of painful memories spinning in a dizzying menagerie inside your skull.
When your eyes met the stark, hauntingly familiar edifice, a sharper pang stabbed deep beneath your chest, more intense than you were accustomed to by now.
You weren’t sure why, of all nights, tonight seemed to bring out the most intense surge of feelings—especially since you found yourself unusually consumed by your thoughts this time around.
Especially since, long before Jayce had perfected the Hexgate, the two of you would often come here to find solace in the sound of the waves and the crisp air of the sea. You’d toss stones into the water, or compete to see who could throw them the furthest. The bittersweet memory of how often Jayce would taunt you for your lack of coordination only deepened the pain and anger digging at you.
You couldn’t control the mindless, almost reflexive way your body reacted to such intense feelings, in combination with the familiarity of the location. Without a second thought, your hand reached for a nearby rock, and before you even registered what you were doing, you hurled it as hard as you could toward the tower.
The tower, distant and perched far out in the water, seemed almost unreachable, and your rock barely made it halfway before splashing down into the water with a sound that felt like it mocked you in the same way Jayce had. You almost felt compelled to throw another rock, driven by some irrational need to make the first one atone for mocking you—despite the fact that it, like all other rocks, had no sentience to answer for its actions.
You gave in to the irrational impulse, bending down to pick up another rock, your mind still fixated on the need to make the previous one pay. But as your fingers closed around the stone, something in the corner of your vision made you pause. A pair of shoes—familiar, yet unknown—caught your eye. Shoes that were attached to feet. Feet that led up to legs. Legs that belonged to the hips and torso of an individual you couldn’t see beyond your hood.
The rock slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your attention shifted entirely to the figure standing behind you. You hadn’t heard a single indicating noise that you had been followed, or approached from behind.
The presence was sudden, unnerving, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. If you were anywhere else, anywhere but Piltover, you’d be terrified. But here, in this ”city of wonders”, you couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, you were still safe.
If anything, it was probably an enforcer, here to reprimand you for throwing rocks in the first place. You straightened up, brushing the thought aside, and turned to face whoever had been silently looming behind you.
As you spun around, you realized—this wasn’t an enforcer.
No, far from it.
The person standing there was more terrifying than any enforcer could ever be, and certainly more annoying, infuriating, and enraging to look upon, for lack of better words to describe the instant rush of wrath that overwhelmed you.
‘Am I the reason
That you can’t look past
Your future self?’
“Your aim is still pretty shit, sunshine.” He says plainly, the nickname he had always pegged you with burning in your ears.
Your blood ran cold as your eyes locked onto the disgustingly smug expression on his face. Every hair on your body stood on end, a shiver crawling up your spine as you stood face to face with the man you now regarded with nothing but utter disdain.
You freeze, unable to muster a response, your mind clouded with a storm of rage and contemptment.
Jayce’s gaze lingers on you, almost—dare you think it—in a way that seemed concerned, longing, and worst of all—-caring.
What a hypocrite. How dare he look at you like he actually cares?
‘Got me believin’
You’ve been stuck
And glued in frequent doubt.’
“Don’t give me that look,” you snap, your fingers twitching, aching to throw a rock at his face just to make him eat his words. For a split second, you actually consider it—and you’re sure Jayce can feel exactly what’s running through your mind as he observes the way your eyes flicker between his face, and the stone you had left behind.
“What look?” he asks, concern surging through his expression again.
Did this guy have a death wish, or was he really just that oblivious? Either way, you could crack instantaneously.
“That look. The fake concern,” you snap, your eyes dropping, fists tightening, teeth grinding.
“Fake…?” He pauses, clearly lost in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest, the hint of offense hanging off his words.
You fight the urge to lash out, to make him feel something stronger than pain.
‘I know the feeling
‘Cause I can’t keep
My mind open now.’
“Yes, fake, Jayce. As in insincere. Artificial,” you spit, taking a sharp breath.
“Ersatz,” you add, the word a bitter aftertaste.
Your words cut through the air with a venomous cadence, each syllable sharp and biting, a distasteful attempt to tear through him.
Jayce looked completely dumbfounded, as if his mind had been wiped clean. The stark look of gears no longer grinding in his brain was almost comical. He was daft, no doubt. You felt a twinge of pride prod your ego upon this realization.
You couldn’t bear to stay here, not this close to him, not after everything. The thought that he was only here to twist the knife deeper into your wounds was almost more than you could handle. Your emotions, raw and overwhelming, had already drained you, and you were done. You didn’t want to give him another moment—no chance for him to make things worse, or worse still, to somehow try and redeem himself. As if he ever could.
Steeling yourself, you gather what little dignity you have left and turn away, keeping your face carefully composed. As you pass him, you deliberately knock your shoulder against his, ricocheting his shoulders in the process, a silent and singular act of defiance as you walk away.
As if to intentionally make matters worse, Jayce turns after you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He makes contact, swiftly pulling you back towards him.
“___, wait—” He begins, but his words are cut short as your hand slams into his cheek. You hadn’t necessarily meant to hit him, but the motion was as instinctive as throwing the rocks—your hand connecting with the flesh of his cheek before you even had a chance to stop it—not that you necessarily would have wanted to.
The way you had wound up the slap was only amplified by the sudden pull of his hand grabbing you mid-stride, forcing you back toward him. The momentum aided the force with which you struck him.
The weight of what you’d just done hit you all at once—grief, anger, relief, all crashing together. A small part of you, the part that still cared for him, was flooded with guilt. But the darker parts of you—those that hated him, that had longed to hurt him—felt a twisted satisfaction. Besides, it was his own fault that he had grabbed you.
You’d wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, after all, and in an oddly perfect way, this had been the way to satiate that desire.
Jayce instantly released his grip on your wrist, his hand moving to cup the spot where your slap had left its mark.
“Ah…” he groaned, wincing as he cupped the stinging flesh. His eyes snapped shut, the pain unmistakably written all over his face.
You couldn’t tear your gaze away as he stood there, his hand pressed against the raw, reddened skin of his cheek, the mark of your slap still vivid and angry. The sight of it made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was you were feeling. What should you feel in a moment like this? That was the question you could neither answer or shake.
You had already acknowledged, in a quiet corner of your mind, that there was a strange satisfaction in lashing out, even if it was tangled with the thorny weight of your own hurt. There was a cruel sort of release in it, one that both thrilled and disturbed you in equal measure. Your stomach churned as you fought to suppress the abhorrent feeling of shame that crept up on you.
You could feel your instincts urging you to escape—to run, to put distance between yourself and this raw, uncomfortable moment. But you chose not to listen. The urge to flee warred with something else, something deeper, a curiosity that had begun to take root. You wanted to see how this would unfold, to witness how this tension would resolve, if it would resolve at all. The satisfaction you had felt from that sharp, ringing slap was undeniable. Maybe it had been a way to expel some of the pain that had been building inside you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth confronting whatever came next, just to relieve yourself of that heaviness, even if only for a moment.
‘Make up your mind,
We’re running out of time.’
Your heart sunk as you saw the essence of betrayal soon sweep across his face. Yet, simultaneously, that added to the anger you felt. He, of all people, felt betrayal? After the way he betrayed you? That look of his repulsed you.
He looked at you, disbelief written all over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. His hand lingered on his cheek, still tender from the sting of your slap, as though he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. The look he gave you was one of genuine confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why you were so consumed by anger.
“___…” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion, but still full of that familiar, passionate lilt, the kind that used to make your heart race. When he whispered your name—softly, almost reverently—it was as if the sound of it pained him.
‘Doubt is failure
By design.’
His eyes searched yours, full of questions that hung in the air, unanswered. Why had you struck him? Why this sudden violence? The pain in his gaze only seemed to stoke the fire inside you, making the anger flare even hotter, more reckless.
“Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t know exactly what that was for,” you spat, each word sharp, each syllable dripping with a tang that tasted like metal on your tongue. But as the words left you, the anger morphed into something far more fragile, far more devastating. Your heart seemed to crack with the weight of it, the betrayal, the hopelessness. The tears welled up, blurring your vision as your chest tightened with sorrow.
“Why… why are you so blind to everything you’ve done?” you choked out.
“To everything we had… everything you destroyed… just so you could chase your fucking dreams?”
Your fists balled at your sides, the muscles in your arms trembling from the effort of keeping control, even though your voice shook with the strain of holding back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to break free.
‘I’m burning up
Can only take
So much.’
“What about my dreams, Jayce? What about our dreams?” you cried, your voice rising, your words feeling like they could burn everything in their path. Every inch of you ached—your body, your heart, your soul—all of it pulled taut like a string ready to snap. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep it in.
“What made sealing your own future—your destiny—more important than what we built together?” you demanded, the question sitting in the air between you like a dagger.
“Why was your ambition more sacred than our bond? More sacred than us?”
Your voice cracked on the last word, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your face, but you stood your ground, unwilling to back down. This—this pain, this heartbreak—was something you needed to admit, needed him to hear.
“How dare you steal my idea. How dare you take the credit, and disparage it with your stupid, fucking, magic.” You were shouting now, your voice ringing through the night air, raw and unfiltered, the weight of your anger shattering the silence that had settled over everything. The contrast between your fury and the stillness of the evening was jarring—your words felt like they were tearing through the quiet, reverberating off the walls of the world around you.
“Your idea?!” he exclaimed in response, his voice rising sharply, cutting through your tirade. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few purposeful strides, his figure towering over you, his height and presence suddenly far more imposing than you remembered. His broad shoulders blocked the space between you, his stance firm, as if challenging you to face him head-on.
‘I know you
Can feel it
It’s catching up
It’s getting too heavy
For both of us.’
“Since when was it your idea?” His words were fast, biting with frustration, and he was unrelenting as he moved closer, his eyebrows knit together in upset.
“‘Cause the way I remember it—we both wanted change. We both wanted to make Piltover a better, more advanced city.” His voice was now an angry force, his face craning down to meet yours, his eyes sharp, trying to drill the point home. He wasn’t asking anymore—he was demanding you understand.
But what hit you most in that moment wasn’t just his words. It was the way his anger had suddenly shifted everything. For the first time in your life, you felt small compared to him. You had never seen him like this—not even annoyed, not in all the time you had spent together. Jayce had always been the steady one, the calm, the voice of reason. But now, his fury felt like a storm—intense, unpredictable, and completely foreign. The force of it left you unsettled, and taken aback, to say the least.
You didn’t know how to react to this. His anger was like a tidal wave, knocking the ground out from under you, and for the first time, you realized just how much power he had over you—how much he could command just by his sheer presence. The towering figure in front of you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with emotion, made your chest tighten. You didn’t know what to do with this. His anger was new, and in some way, it was almost more frightening than anything you had ever faced.
‘We lie
Cold.’
You were baffled, not just by the words he was saying, but by the way he was saying them—like a person you didn’t recognize.
You parted your lips, ready to continue the tirade that had built up in your chest, but before you could get another word out, Jayce’s voice cut you off, raw and jagged. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his frustration spilling over, each word more desperate than the last.
“You left me. Here. Alone.” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything he, too, left unsaid, considering how you fled before he ever got a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t just anger in his tone anymore; it was pain. The kind that came from a place so deep you couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.
“I did what I thought was best for us.” He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, matching the intensity of your own.
“I proved what I was trying to prove. For us. For our collective aspirations.” The words came faster now, fueled by the overwhelming rush of emotion that was beginning to boil over in him.
“I worked my ass off to make sure that, with the help of my Hextech, your trade routes could flourish,” he spat, his anger now matching yours, raw and unrelenting. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot as he glared down at you.
“I won’t stand here and let you blame me, let you hate me, for acting out of what I thought was selflessness at the time. I’ve gone to bat for you, countless times, to make sure you got the credit you deserved.”
His own fists clenched at his sides, the strain of his words almost too much to bear.
“But you ran. You left, assuming my only goal was to use you, when in reality, all I ever tried to do was support you.”
His words slammed into you like a physical blow, and for a second, you were paralyzed by the force of them. But then the anger surged again, hot and insistent. Support you? The bitterness twisted in your gut, and before you even thought about it, the words exploded from your mouth.
“Support me?!” You shouted, the sound ringing through the night like a bell, sharp and accusing.
“That’s what you call abandoning me to take a seat in the highest of towers?” You could feel the heat of your own fury rising to meet his, and without thinking, you shoved both hands into his chest, pushing him back with all the force you could muster.
Jayce stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger, and you weren’t done. You shoved him again, harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest until he hit the railing behind him with a loud clang. The sound echoed in the air, but you didn’t care.
“In the council, no less?! Leaving me here to fend for myself in your fucking shadow?!” Your voice was hoarse now, each scream louder and more desperate than the last. You pushed him once more, as if trying to push the weight of everything you felt, everything you couldn’t hold onto anymore, into him.
The tears you’d held back were streaming freely down your face, but there was no stopping them now. The hurt, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in that single moment. The fury and heartbreak swirled together, a force you couldn’t control, and all you could do was scream at him until your voice gave out, until he understood just how much you had suffered because of his choices.
‘Dam up the river,
We can go, slow.’
Jayce had finally reached his limit. The shouting, the anger, the constant back and forth—it was all too much. He could see now that no matter what he said, nothing would make you stop. The argument had spiraled into something beyond reason, and every word he spoke only seemed to fuel your fire. You weren’t listening anymore; you were just lashing out, consumed by rage.
Enough was enough.
‘Dull down our senses,
Become numb.’
When you shoved him again, anger blinding you, Jayce reacted quickly. His patience had worn thin, and he wasn’t about to let this go any further.
The next time your hands came at him, he caught your wrists with a swift, forceful motion, crossing them tightly over each other. Before you could react, he shoved your arms into your chest, locking you in place. Then, without warning, he spun you around, pulling you harshly against him so that your back was pressed to his chest. His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands, preventing you from thrashing away.
‘Mirin myself
All by myself.’
“Stop.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, vibrating against your ear as his chest caged you in. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw tension in every inch of him as he held you close, his strength completely overpowering your attempts to break free.
“___, for fucks sake! Stop!” He demands, one of his enormous hands moving to take hold of both of your wrists while the other clamped down around your jaw, bringing your face towards your shoulder, where his own chin rested in this position.
Jayce had no choice. He knew how stubborn you were, how deeply you clung to your anger when you were hurt, and how you’d never stop until you’d worn yourself out—if you ever did. But right now, he couldn’t wait for that to happen. He couldn’t let you run away from him anymore.
With one sharp, decisive movement, his lips crashed into yours. It was hard, hungry, demanding—a complete storm of sensation that left no room for resistance. Your eyes went wide in shock, your breath hitching as you tried to pull back, but he followed, his mouth pressing harder against yours, refusing to let you break free.
‘Feel the caress, so sweet
Done by my hand.’
You gasped, the sound caught between your lips, and before you could protest, his kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips, twisting with yours in a way that both startled and confused you. You cried out into his mouth, the noise muffled, as his hold on you tightened, his body pressing closer to yours, grounding you in place.
Every part of you wanted to push him away, to shout, to keep fighting, but Jayce’s kiss was relentless—an anchor pulling you deeper into silence. He wasn’t pulling back, not until you stopped fighting, until you let go of that anger long enough to breathe.
And though you still burned with fury, something about the way he held you, the way his presence swallowed you whole, made it harder and harder to keep struggling.
No matter how much you had longed for his touch, how desperately you had yearned for him to kiss you like this again, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it in a moment like this. Not when everything inside you was still burning with anger and hurt.
‘Polishing this frame of mind,
Jacked it up an ax to grind.’
You fought against him, your body stiff and tense, desperately trying to pull away from his overwhelming presence. Each movement was a silent refusal, a stubborn resistance to the way his kiss was pulling at your very core.
‘Duck n’ dodge,
Stay unaligned.'
But it was futile. You were already drained, your energy spent from the crying, the shouting, the endless cycle of rage that had led you here. As his lips pressed more insistently against yours, the fight in you began to falter. The need to escape, the impulse to run, slowly began to dissolve with every second his lips lingered on yours, and his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. What remained was the sharp sting of your rage, but even that felt like it was starting to ebb.
Gradually, your body softened, the tension in your muscles melting away. The fight left you, piece by piece, until you sighed against his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable. With a subtle shift, your head tilted just enough to give him more room, more access, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to stop fighting. The kiss deepened, and in that quiet surrender, Jayce released a long, relieved breath, sensing your body finally easing into his touch.
‘My recognition face
Some get withered
Some get fried.’
You kissed him back after great hesitation, your lips and tongue moving urgently against his, as if you were trying to make up for every lost moment in a single, heated breath. There was no holding back now. The memories, the longing, everything that had been buried deep inside you erupted all at once, and your mouth moved hungrily against his, each movement a desperate attempt to relive the intimacy you’d once shared.
‘I know we talked about
The shit we did
Each time.’
His grip on your wrists faltered, weakening as you started to turn toward him fully. The distance between you closed rapidly, and soon, your chest was pressed flush against his, your body responding to his presence with an intensity you couldn’t control. As your hands were freed, they instinctively traveled up to his face, your thumb brushing over the spot where you’d struck him only minutes before, feeling the remnants of your anger there, now mingling with something else.
‘Polishing this frame of mind
Jacked it up an ax to grind.’
You cupped his face, fingers digging into his jaw, pulling him even closer as if trying to erase the distance between you, to melt into him and make up for the time and pain that had come before. The urgency in your movements was raw and frantic, a wordless plea to feel everything at once—to collapse the anger, the longing, and the need that had built up inside you into this single, desperate connection.
‘Duck n’ dodge
Stay unaligned
My recognition face.’
His hands roamed over your body, searching for any way to pull you closer, his touch growing more insistent as he settled them on your hips, pulling you into him. The physical closeness only heightened the tension, the desire, but also something darker—something that still lingered between you—lust.
Though you no longer felt the need to escape, your rage simmered just below the surface, burning deep in your chest. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot. It still gnawed at you, demanding to be felt, demanding some kind of reckoning. Part of you wanted to make him feel it, make him understand the depth of your pain. You wanted him to know what you had been through all this time.
‘Am I the reason
That you can’t
Look past your future self?’
Your tongue retracted for a moment, and you pressed your teeth against his bottom lip, the bite sharp enough to sting. It was a flash of anger, mixed with the heat of desire, and it caught Jayce off guard. You had shared passionate moments before, but nothing quite like this—nothing that carried this much intensity. He flinched at the sudden sharpness, but in that moment, something in him sparked, that familiar fire of tension growing even stronger.
If that’s what it would take to break the tension, then he’d oblige.
Jayce’s hand tangled into your hair, pulling you closer, his grip tightening. The sensation of your hair in his hand, the pressure, sent a breathless sound escaping from you—something between a gasp and a soft exhale. It was involuntary, the sound mixing with the heat building between you. Jayce had always longed to hear that from you, to feel that connection, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop.
For far too long, Jayce had denied himself any form of physical connection. Since you left, he’d been forced to bury his desire for you deep inside, locking it away with a painful awareness that nothing—no touch, no embrace—could compare to what he had shared with you. Each passing day, he became more acutely aware of the emptiness that lingered, knowing that any contact with anyone else would only serve as a stark reminder of the craving that burned for you.
‘Got me believin’
You’ve been stuck
And glued in frequent doubt.’
He tightened his grip, drawing another soft sound from you, the mix of pleasure and tension in the air thickening. His focus was solely on you now, on the way your body responded, on the sounds you made, and how this moment—this raw, unguarded moment—was pulling both of you closer to the unspoken lust that couldn’t be denied a moment longer.
You can’t help but let out a filthy little moan, whimpering along with it.
A shameless, guttural moan, that sent Jayce’s head into a spiral. He had been beyond desperate to coax those kinds of noises out of you for what felt like too long of an eternity. He was in no position to deny himself the opportunity to keep drawing them out of you.
His hands curled into a fist as he yanked on your hair, whimpers flying out of you like a flock of birds.
If you wanted to fight dirty, Jayce was game.
“Fuck..” He breathes out—eager, like a starved man who stumbled upon a banquet— as he pulls away from your lips, immediately pressing them against the skin of your neck he had exposed from his grip on your locks. He let his teeth drag along the skin, biting and harshly sucking on it in several places. Your reaction was deathly arousing. The slightly pained cries that flowed beside ones of pleasure sent Jayce’s burning temptation into orbit.
He knew you needed him in the way he had once gotten used to providing for you. His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, desperate to break free from the confines of the cloth that kept it contained.
It was arguably harder than it had ever been, his anger and inability to have you for so long adding fuel to the fire of his pure incessant need to bury himself deep inside you.
‘I know the feeling
Cause I can’t keep
My mind open now.’
Oh, how you both longed to be connected like that again. In the way all lovers know well—their unspoken second nature.
He ruts his hips against yours, your own body responding instinctively by meeting them in their attempt to seek friction.
You both emit low grunts at the new sensation, satiating the tension for now.
You felt as though you were being scorched from within, the intense heat of your desire and simmering rage intertwining, each stoking the other in a relentless blaze. Every nerve burned with an insatiable hunger, a craving that went beyond pleasure, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of both ecstasy and agony.
You needed more—not just the thrill of sensation, but the raw, cathartic pain that seemed to heighten the fire within you. Your soul ached for an outlet, something that would satisfy the chaotic tension, where your lust and frustration could collide, erupting into something that might finally ease the raging storm inside.
You snaked your arms around his neck, giving a small jump into him as you anchored onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He hums darkly in reaction to the sudden motion, his hands releasing their clasp on your hair to instead latch onto the bottom of your ass—-supporting you as you clung to him.
Jayce’s head shot up from it’s spot between your head and chest, moving to a new vantage point in order to scan the area. He was a man with a mission.
A mission to uncover the perfect place, somewhere secluded and unremarkable—a refuge hidden from the world where he could channel the fury between you with ruthless intensity. It had to be a spot where nothing could interrupt the raw, unfiltered release of tension—a place where every movement, every act, could be as drastic and unforgiving as the anger that surged through both of you.
Needless to say—and in an extremely simple turn of phrase—-He needed to fuck the rage out of you— and he would stop at nothing to do so.
After a few tense moments, Jayce focused, his eyes landing on the perfect hidden corner in all of Piltover. His grip tightened on you as he began to lead you toward it. The alleyway was small and shadowed, tucked between two shops that had long since closed for the night. The buildings on either side pressed in tightly, their walls forming a dark, narrow passage that swallowed any light. The darkness obscured it from street lamps and passersby, though Jayce hardly seemed at all concerned about the possibility of wandering eyes, anyway.
The alley itself was already tucked away from the main streets, but the particular spot his intentions were set on was even more concealed—through the alley and to the right, behind the buildings entirely, not just in between.
Overhanging eaves, garbage bins and scattered crates cloaked the area, creating a thick, impenetrable shadow. It was a secluded pocket, completely hidden from view, untouched by the faintest glimmer from the street beyond.
A perfect haven of obscurity, though the lack of any inviting scenery was hardly worth a second thought. The cracked cobblestones, the faint smell of damp earth, rotting trash, and the forgotten clutter of the alley seemed irrelevant. In a place like this, where shadows held sway, scenery had no claim. Nothing mattered but the raw, pressing heat of the moment.
You sank your teeth into his neck, your hands exploring his shoulders with a quiet, persistent need. He groaned beneath your bite, his un-abating lust taking the lead furthermore, as he harshly slammed your back against the abrasive stone walls of the building. His mouth was quick to covet yours once more, lips voraciously seeking stimulation from them.
Your sensual tango of lips pressing against each other, hips grating and rutting into each other’s carried out, Jayce beginning to make quick work of exposing you to the elements, his cock still hard as ever as it brushed against your clit beneath the layers of clothing. You can’t help but whimper out in response.
With the new advantage of pinning you to the stone wall—-combined with the leverage of your legs still around his waist—-his hands grew eager, rushing to tear your blouse apart. His fingers slid between the buttons of the opening, pushing through the seam before he gripped tight and wrenched it apart. Several buttons flew free, briefly distracting from the sharp bite of the cold air against the newly exposed skin.
You couldn’t help but whine into the cavern of his mouth, the rough display of lust redirecting all of your aching and longing straight to your clit. It throbbed with intent, a desperate reminder that you needed more friction. You greedily rolled your hips into his, yielding another low, filthy grunt from Jayce.
“Fuck.” He pants against your mouth, hands kneading at your breasts, cock twitching beneath his trousers.
Oh, how he longed to revisit the memories of your past encounters, to re-enact the acts of pleasure he had learned to bring you. But in such a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. As much as he yearned to please you in the ways he’d spent so much time discovering, there was no time, now. The urgency of the present situation demanded everything from him. If he didn’t bury his cock deep within you, right now, and fuck you senseless, he’d probably keel over.
This was his last chance. His only chance to rewrite your history.
‘Am I the reason,
That you can’t look past,
Your future self?’
Without a second’s hesitation, Jayce tore your legs from his waist, practically dropping you to the ground. In one swift motion, he flipped you around, pressing your cheek forcefully into the cold stone wall with one hand. You groan out, the harsh force of his motions prodding your deep-seated anger once more. His chin reclaims its resting point on your shoulder, teeth claiming your earlobe between them as he pressed his mouth to your ear. You groan out of sudden distaste for the new position.
”Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” He growls into it, the words viscerally stabbing at your clit, earning a thirsty cry from you.
He spread your legs with his feet, his free hand clambering to release his throbbing cock from it’s fabric prison. He yanked your pants down, the sound of his belt clinking sending shivers up your spine as your cunt pulsated in anticipation.
You were beyond wet—the word a dull description of the way your cunt was absolutely sopping, dripping, and practically gushing for him.
Despite your evident arousal, you weren’t used to things happening so fast. You began to protest as your back arched against his brawny, bold, and burly chest.
“Jayce— wait!” You started to say, before his teeth clamped down onto your earlobe with increased vigor, your words fading into torrid moans as a result.
He pulls your underwear to the side, fist pumping his deprived cock before he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.
“Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.” He barked.
Before you even had a chance to breathe, he plowed into you, curling his hips up to press flush against your ass. You had no choice but to brace yourself. Your hands flew to the cold stone wall, gripping tightly to keep from collapsing under the force of it all.
The sound that tore from deep within your chest was raw, loud enough to make anyone within a hundred feet of the building take concerned notice. Anyone outside of you and Jayce would have assumed you were being murdered.
It was a deliciously vile sound, thick with want, neediness, desperation, and all the emotions you had yet resolved.
“Fuck!” You scream, tears stinging in your eyes as Jayce began slamming up into you with at an absolutely merciless pace. He wasted no time by giving you a single moment to adjust, knowing full well the rough nature was exactly what the situation called for. If he didn’t give this his all, everything was at stake. Or so he thought.
His thrusts were, at their core, crude—filthy, vulgar.
Lascivious.
They had an animalistic quality, one that attested to his own desires, and the hurtful longing he had harbored for you.
Jayce grunted, huffing out as he ruthlessly snapped his hips against the flesh of your ass. He plunged his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, the hand that held your face against the stone withdrew from you. Jayce pulled it beneath your arm, wrapping around your chest to imperviously grip at your breast, using his hold on it to further aid in the force with which he was bucking into you.
His other hand moved to your neck, fingers tightening around it with a possessive grip. The pressure forced the air from your lungs, and you gasp, the sound barely escaping as your breath becomes shallow. You squirm, struggling to breathe, but his hold doesn’t loosen. Instead, it pulls you in deeper, mixing fury with hunger. Each ragged breath, each flicker of resistance only seems to make it worse, the heat between you both building in the space where anger and desire collide.
“Fuck you.” He spat out in sync with his thrusts.
“Fuck.” —thrust.
“You.” —thrust.
“For.” —thrust.
“Leaving.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.
The words he spat out were coated in intent, each one seething with the same anger that simmered inside of him. The way he moved, pounding into you, was frantic, his hips driven by a fire that seemed to consume him.
‘Got me believin’
You’ve been
Stuck and glued
In frequent doubt.’
You could feel it, the heat coursing through his veins with every thrust—his body shaking with the intensity of it. There was nothing controlled about the way he gripped you, no tenderness. Just a reckless, furious need, each movement angry, as if he were fighting to push the rage out of his body and into you.
His soul had been set ablaze, and all you could do was feel the burn.
“Agh—“ You pant, air still desperate to escape your lungs as he clenched your throat.
“F-fuck you for—-Pretending like—-you care.” You choke out.
Jayce’s blood boils, his grip on your throat tightening beyond the point of care.
“Pretending like I care?” He pants as well, exhausting himself from the force with which he was railing his cock up into you.
“I care. More than—anyone—sunshine.” He very well shouts, words still in sync with his thrusts, on exhaling with each. He was absolutely plowing you now, the familiar nickname cutting through the air that surrounded you.
You were groaning out in pleasure and pain, the contrasting feelings mixing into one as he continued his relentless assault on your cervix.
“T-Then why—-why couldn’t you just—-“ Your lungs begged for air.
“Love me—-like I love—- you?” You gasp, your voice barely audible above the hunger for air.
‘I know the feeling
Cause I can’t
Keep my mind
Open now.’
Jayce’s movements stopped abruptly, his hands yanking away from you as if struck by a sudden realization. You gasped, breath catching painfully in your throat, stumbling back into the wall, your body desperate for air that was slow to come. The intensity that had fueled him moments before seemed to drain in an instant, leaving you gasping in the silence.
Jayce felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over him, sharp and suffocating, like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured straight over his head. It hit him all at once, a gut-punch of realization that mirrored the guilt he had seen on your face earlier when you slapped him—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to escape. His chest tightened, a heaviness settling in his stomach as he stood there, frozen, unable to look at you.
His hips stilled, his body rigid as the anger that had driven him to this point shifted, replaced by something softer—-sadder. His heart felt heavy in his chest, sinking like a stone in water.
All that was left in the alley was the erratic—-uneven sound of your breathing, each inhale a struggle, sweat slicking your skin, catching the light of the moon in fragile glimmers. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what had just transpired hanging between you like a shroud, heavy and unresolved.
His mind was a blur, thoughts scattered and jumbled, short-circuiting in a way that left him dizzy. He couldn’t make sense of the guilt spiraling through him, the crushing weight of having crossed a line he hadn’t even seen until it was too late. Until you said what you had said.
That you loved him.
He removes his chest from your back, pulling himself out of you in the process.
Jayce reached for you, his hands trembling as he gently grasped your shoulders, his touch softer than it had been all night. His fingers barely brushed your skin, as if afraid to make contact after everything that had just happened. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he spun you around to face him. The moment your eyes met, his chest seemed to cave in on itself, a sickening weight settling there.
His heart felt like it had physically dropped, plummeting to the pit of his stomach with a sickening thud. The sight of you, tears streaking down your face, the raw anguish in your expression—it shattered him. Every ounce of anger, every moment of fury that had driven him earlier seemed like a distant memory in the face of the heartbreak he had caused.
How could he have been so reckless? The thought screamed in his mind, impossible to silence. The guilt that gripped him now was suffocating, crushing. He’d seen your pain in the heat of the moment, but now it hit him full force—really hit him. The tears in your eyes weren’t just a reminder of what he’d done; they were a reflection of how far he had pushed you, how little he had cared in the frenzy of his own anger.
And now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do was stare at the damage he had inflicted, helpless, terrified of what he’d become.
“___…” He whispers.
253 notes · View notes
michelle-is-writing · 2 days ago
Text
Stunt Driving, Spencer Reid
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Word Count: 1.8k~
3rd person, Spencer x fem!reader
Other than Derek Morgan, Spencer didn't know anyone that could drive so recklessly, yet, still be safe at the same time. That was until Agent (Y/n) (L/n) was hired at the BAU. She was intelligent, but she couldn't compare to that of Spencer's list of achievements. (Y/n) didn't graduate high school at age twelve, nor did she have several masters degrees or Ph.D.'s under her belt. Instead, she slightly leisured and worked hard at the same time. She gained her degrees with good grades while making memories with those around her. One person she grew close to was her father.
Being an auto mechanic who worked at home, (Y/n)'s father got to work on a lot of cars, especially those from the seventies and eighties. Once the cars were fixed, (Y/n)'s dad always took it for a drive with her in the passenger seat, and even though it probably wasn't the best idea, he would teach her how to drive fast - whether it be to have fun (again, probably not the best idea) or get out of a dangerous situation. The things learned by (Y/n) would last her a lifetime and would prove to be necessary in this current moment.
Driving one of the FBI's SUV at ninety miles per hour wasn't something that Spencer imagined himself experiencing today, and as he looked at the beautiful woman in the driver's seat beside him, he didn't exactly know what to think. She seemed so focused on what she was doing, and because of the mileage they were reaching, Spencer was thankful for this. However, there was still that screaming statistic in the back of his mind, shouting, "40% of all accidents are caused by speeding over 75 miles per hour!"
"(Y/n), slow down!" Spencer yelled as she swerved in and out of traffic, the unsub's car merely twenty feet away from their vehicle. Gripping the safety handle above him as hard as he could, Spencer felt like he could have a heart attack any moment now. She was unsafe in her driving because of the speed she was traveling at, yet, she was somehow keeping them safe by her constant reflexes and quick reaction times. "You're going to get us killed!"
"Spencer," (Y/n) said his name, swiftly checking her mirrors before speeding into the next lane, the engine screaming as she did so. Looking over into the driver side window, Spencer could see the unsub constantly checking over his shoulder, his panic only growing once he sees the BAU's vehicle next to his. "Do you trust me?"
"What?" Spencer asked his coworker, her gorgeous (e/c) eyes flashing over to his for a quick second. Despite being in such a tense situation, Spencer couldn't help but be lured in by her eyes as his heart had grown for the woman as soon as she started working in the BAU. Fortunately, (Y/n) felt the same, he just didn't know it.
"I need you to trust me," She repeats her words, gaining an almost groan from Spencer. He was trusting her enough by putting his life in her hands at the wheel, what else did she want?
"You know better than anyone how to calculate an unsub's next move," She reminds him, the unsub speeding up to get ahead of their SUV. "And you and I both know he's going to swerve in front of me at some point and slam on his breaks," she points out, frowning as she yanks the car into the same lane as the unsub. "I need you to tell me when you think that's going to happen."
Determination laced throughout her voice, (Y/n)'s eyes stayed glued on the banged-up car in front of her as the RPMs of their vehicle bounced between its high and low numbers. Not knowing what her full plan was, Spencer questioned himself as to why he quietly nodded at her words, but nonetheless, still turned his head to watch the car in front of them. As facts about the unsub came to mind, Spencer compiled everything into one of his long, drawn out equations before estimating when the murderer would do just as (Y/n) had said.
It was only when he saw the unsub sit closer to the wheel with a tighter grip on it that Spencer felt he was going to change his moves. "Now," Spencer told the woman, watching as she slowed their vehicle down only slightly, but still deliberately. Seconds after the SUV reached 80, the car in front of her slammed on the breaks, causing (Y/n) to smirk as she knew her plan was in full effect.
Quickly swerving into the line beside her, she wastes no time before lining her front wheels up to his back ones and slamming into him, effectively making him begin to slide uncontrollably on the road, the side of his vehicle pinned to the front of their SUV. Spencer watched in panic as the unsub tried to regain control of his car, only to swerve away and into a field. Sitting back against his chair with a sigh, Spencer shut his eyes as he felt the car begin to finally slow down. He'd never done a pit maneuver on anyone before, having only read about it before in books or hearing about it in news cases.
For a second, he let himself relax until he felt the SUV start reversing before swerving in a 180 degree motion, making his eyes shoot back open and see their vehicle now facing the same direction as the unsub. The wheels immediately regained traction against the asphalt before lunging into the dirt and across the grass covered field. The unsub had barely any time to react and drive away as the SUV made contact with the front end, pushing it farther into the field all the while further destroying the car and preventing it from driving anymore.
Now stopped, (Y/n) threw her seatbelt off and dashed out of her seat. Once again, Spencer found himself watching the scene unfold in front of him, his eyes glued to the way (Y/n) held her pistol all the while dragging the unsub out of the vehicle. Surprisingly, the man's arms eventually came up to hold his head, showing he was still alive despite being hit twice.
It's only then that Spencer snapped out of his haze, clambering out of the vehicle behind her as she tugged the injured man onto his stomach. Aside from the man's cries, the sound of sirens began to follow them much to Spencer's delight. They couldn't keep up with the unsub, losing him in traffic due to his speeds, but that wasn't a hard challenge for (Y/n).
Clearly.
It was merely thirty seconds later that the rest of the team joined them, followed by several ambulances and police vehicles that promptly looked over the murderer before taking him away to jail. This left both Spencer and (Y/n) to be checked over despite being alright throughout it all. It took hardly any time for Spencer to be declared fine, leaving him to make sure (Y/n) was okay.
Walking over to her ambulance, he saw an EMS worker finish wrapping up (Y/n)'s slightly bleeding wrist, his steps now a bit more panicked as he came closer to her. "I cut my hand on a piece of glass when handcuffing the guy," (Y/n) quickly explained to the worried man, smiling at him. "I'm okay, Spence, really."
Feeling his heart warm up in response to (Y/n) calling him the nickname she adopted for him, he saw himself sitting next to her and sighing. "Where did you...?" Spencer began, not knowing where to go with his question. Instead of waiting for him to continue, she smirked and finished for him.
"Where did I learn to do that?" She asked for clarification, receiving a nod in response. Still smiling, she happily answered him. "When I was younger, my dad fixed cars, but you already knew that," She explained, Spencer nodding along as she spoke.
"Well, he also liked stunts and he taught me a few things too," she shrugged, "The pit maneuver was nothing, but that j-turn was something else," She explained, the Spencer's ears perking up as she answered his next question without him even saying it.
Her smile slowly died down before she slid a hand over to his resting on the ambulance, albeit a bit cautiously. However, his unchanging expression showed her it was okay, and so, she left her hand on top of his.
"I am sorry if I scared you, Spencer," She apologized, "Not everyone's used to... well, my driving, but I can't help it," They both shared a small laugh at this, staring at each other for a few moments before she spoke up once more. "Still, I hope you don't see me as reckless or immature."
In response to her words, Spencer let out a small laugh before wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her close. Perhaps it was the chaotic experience they just faced, or maybe it was the longing stares and touches they sometimes exchanged, but Spencer didn't know where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from. In fact, the only thing that reassured him of his actions was (Y/n) reciprocating them and nuzzling into his side ever so slightly.
"You didn't scare me," Spencer lied, putting on a genuine smile due to the happiness he felt from the combination of (Y/n)'s touch and words. "To be honest, I thought it was kind of hot," The words left his lips as awkward as they could, followed by a dark blush taking over his porcelain cheeks.
Although, (Y/n) paid no mind to his embarrassment, and instead, she couldn't help but lean up and gently kiss Spencer's soft lips. They were slightly swollen from him biting them in the car out of anxiousness and fright, but (Y/n) didn't care. She was happy just to be kissing the man, and even more elated at the sensation of him kissing back.
A small amount of applause filled the area around them, causing the two to part and look around to see their teammates grinning and clapping their hands.
"I knew it!" JJ yelled, clapping her hands together with an excited smile. "This was going to happen sooner or later,"
Beside JJ was Emily, smiling as well while clapping her on the back. Spencer and (Y/n) then began to stutter to Emily that they wouldn't let this interfere with their work, but the dark-haired woman simply held up a hand in response. "It's okay, I know you two, and I know you'll still be the same excellent workers," The smile she wore grew into that of a smirk, anticipating her next reply. "Just a bit more cuddly... and cute."
Relieved, both (Y/n) and Spencer couldn't help but let out a small sigh simultaneously, causing them to look back at each other with sheepish smiles from being caught. Barely any words had been expressed between the two when it came to their new relationship, but one thing was definite: (Y/n)'s motor-loving heart had become entangled with Spencer's chess-loving one, and he was happy.
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Imagine: You and Rio are at the Avengers Compound for Thanksgiving and you’re in charge of baking pies….this can only lead to good things. (Rio Vidal x gn!reader)
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Author’s Note: I really wanna get back into writing stuff like this. Like…I just LOVE Rio.
Now I’m wondering if I should do crossovers…like putting Anya in the Avengers universe and whatnot.
(CW: I don’t think any are applicable? Lmk if there’s one I need to put)
You still honestly don’t know how she did it.
By some miracle, your girlfriend Rio had managed to contact the Avengers and get them to invite you for Thanksgiving, or rather the day before. Sure you’d been an intern at the Compound, but it wasn’t for that long, and they likely didn’t know Rio.
And yet here you are, standing in the kitchen as Rio searches up pie recipes; while Tony is out getting some food at the last minute, Wanda, Vision, Peter, and Steve are all watching The Dick Van Dyke Show while Yelena, Nat, Pietro, and Kate are attempting—and attempting is very much stressed—Clint and Bucky how to play Cards Against Humanity; it’s honestly really funny to watch.
“Okay,” Rio huffs, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I found a recipe for a pumpkin pie.”
“What else?” you ask.
Rio blinks. “Is that not enough?”
“You’re sleeping on pecan pie,” you scoff.
“Pecan?” she asks, her face scrunching up in confusion. “Like the nut pecan?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “What else do you put in it?”
“…Fruit or pumpkin,” she exclaims in disbelief. “You put fruit or pumpkin in it. Who puts nuts in a pie?”
“I do!”
Rio huffs. “What’s next? Are you gonna tell me you put chocolate in it?”
“Yeah, actually,” Kate replies as she looks through her stack of cards. “French silk pie.”
“There’s also meat pie,” Yelena adds. “I love putting hot sauce on mine.”
Hearing this, Rio is in shock. “You put MEAT? In a PIE?”
“Yeah? Is this really such a novel concept? I mean, in Russia, there’s a pie with a filling or salmon or sturgeon, rice, hard-boiled eggs, mushrooms, and dill.”
Now both of you are shocked. “What?” you both exclaim.
“Who puts fish in a pie?” you stammer.
“Russians,” Nat shrugs.
“All pie is good pie,” Steve says, “But nothing beats a classic apple pie.”
“Pecan,” you insist. “Pecan beats it.”
“That’s up for debate,” Clint says as he looks at the cards that people submitted. “Who put down ‘Object permanence’?”
“That was me,” Kate says.
“How does ‘object permanence’ fit this?”
“It’s about abstract connections,” Pietro shrugs.
As they continue the game and sitcom, you and Rio ponder what to do about the pie selection.
“Maybe we could make small pies of everyone’s favorite pie?” you suggest.
“I don’t think we have enough ingredients for that,” Bucky says.
“Or we could just make a pie with everything in it,” Rio suggests.
Silence.
“….I’ll pass,” Kate gags.
“Remind me not to leave you in charge of the pies next year,” Steve says.
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind seeing what that tastes like,” Yelena shrugs.
“I think you’re gonna end up regretting it,” Nat chuckles.
“How much of the pie dough ingredients do we have?” Wanda asks.
“….Some,” Rio answers with a shrug.
“….Not very helpful,” she sighs. “(Y/N), any ideas?”
You blink. “What she said.”
Vision seems to be calculating something, “Hmm….”
“Vis?” Wanda asks.
“If I can recall, we have precisely enough for…..three pies,” he says.
“Great, so we choose three kinds,” Peter says.
“But which three?” Bucky asks.
“We have to have pumpkin, no questions asked,” Rio declares.
“I’m not sitting down to eat without a pecan pie,” you say.
“Wait…how did you say the name of the nut?” Steve asks.
“PEE-cahn,” you answer.
“I think it’s supposed to be pih-CAHN,” he says.
“No, it’s a long E sound,” you argue.
“Not a chance; it’s short E.”
“Who in their right mind puts an emphasis on the SECOND syllable?”
“Pretty sure it’s PEE-can,” Kate says in confusion.
“Don’t even start,” Clint groans.
This goes on for….about five minutes until Rio finally puts it to rest.
“Forget the pronunciation. Let’s focus on the pie.”
“So….pumpkin, the nut pie, and….what else?” Peter asks as Tony walks in, carrying a turkey.
“You’re still not finished with the pies?” he asks in disbelief.
“We haven’t exactly started,” you say sheepishly. “We’re still deciding on the flavors; we have pumpkin and PEcan, but we need one more.”
Tony huffs. “I don’t know, how about you surprise us?”
Immediately the compound goes silent, Rio’s grin slowly growing.
“How about you go sit down with them, my love?” she suggests in a voice that’s way too sweet. “I can handle it from here.”
“A….are you sure?” you gulp.
“No. No, we’re NOT sure,” Clint objects.
“Just leave it to me,” Rio says.
And after a lot of insistence, and complaining from Tony, you let her.
Later that night, after the main course and sides are finished, Rio serves up the pies. None of them are labeled, though. And they all look the same. You decide to pick one at random and Rio cuts you a slice.
“Close your eyes,” she tells you as she sets down the slice. “And take a bite.”
Foolishly, you decide to put your trust in her baking and take a bite.
Almost immediately, the taste hits you; it’s fruity, savory, cruciferous….a bit of everything, especially spicy. But not in a good way.
“Rio?” you ask as Yelena takes a slice of the same pie. “What kind of pie is this?”
She shrugs. “I just kinda used a bit of everything. That’s what you put in pies, right?”
“….Did you put hot sauce in this?” Yelena asks.
Rio smirks, nodding and also handing her a bottle of hot sauce.
“Yes!” she exclaims as she practically shoots the sauce onto her pie.
Tony sighs and Rio shrugs once more. “Hey, you said to surprise you.”
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torgerandsuzanne · 2 days ago
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Just finished listening to Toto on the Armchair Expert with Dax Shepard. Such a great fun interview. Toto really opens up on a variety of topics. Some highlights:
His childhood: He talks about growing up, his dad being ill, how that affected him and his mom not being present. His mom who is 79 and “not doing well”, told him “I wasn’t a good mother.” He says he told her “I forgive you because I know how hard it was to be at home and see the suffering” 😢
Anxiety about failure: He says that in the years past he was always fearing failure. “Everything could end tomorrow. The racing, the winning, the money—gone. My wife leaves me for the hairdresser.” 😂 (Dax says it’s the personal trainer Susie would have left him for not the hairdresser 🤣) But he says a couple of years ago, he let go of that fear “I realized that I have an amazing relationship with my kids. I have the best wife I can Imagine. I’ve done what I wanted to do. That’s why I have peace if I were dying today” ❤️
Susie’s call during the interview: Toto says his phone is always on silent unless Susie or the kids call. In that case he has a ringtone override. His phone rang during the interview. It was Susie. Dax was yelling “I love you”. Toto passed him the phone and Dax told her “If my wife dies and Toto dies, I am sprinting to you” 😂
The love and respect for Susie: He said if she wanted to grow her career in motorsport he would give up his role as a team principal “She’s such a good manager and entrepreneur. She could do so much more. And I’m saying to her, if you were to have a career in motorsport and you were conflicted with me, I would step out of an executive role” ❤️
She doesn’t like his mirror poses “We have fun at home. When you’re in front of a mirror and you’re doing some stupid posing. Yeah she says that’s really turning me off” 😂
The “model cliche“ discussion with Dax: Toto and Dax talk about the cliche of being with a model. “If a girl stares at her own pictures on the computer, that’s a warning sign for me” 😂 One of his friends got together with a younger lady who then dumped him, Susie told the guy “what did you expect” 🤣
He’s not into fashion: “I’m the most boring fashion guy”
Free diving with George done wrong: He went free diving with George while Netflix crew was there to film. But he ended up bursting his eardrum, and the whole thing fell apart 😅
His go-to drink is vodka, nothing else: 😂 “I don’t drink wine. I don’t drink beer because of gluten. It doesn’t do me well. If I’m drinking alcohol, then it’s full blast vodka. You don’t drink huge amounts and after 20 minutes you’re already having fun. The liquid is not huge and you’re not mixing. So I don’t feel sick. I don’t feel bad the next day. No hangover”
He never got into drugs: He shares a story about trying a “water pipe” with friends when he was 16. Afterward, he went to the subway station and realized he didn’t have his shoes on 😂. But he says he stayed away from the heavier stuff because, “I was always mentally fragile, and I was scared it would leave me in a dark place.”
Lewis gave him his motorcycle as a gift ❤️: He shared a story about Lewis coming over to have dinner with him and Susie in Monaco. He told them to come down, that he needed to show them something and then he told Toto “You’ve done so many great things, and together we’ve accomplished so much. I’ve never given you a gift before so I want you to have this, the #1 bike out of 44 edition series.” (he gave him a MV Agusta Lewis Hamilton edition)
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lexxiie · 2 days ago
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WHEN THEIR PARTNER LOVES TO DANCE
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Fandom: My hero academia Featuring: shigaraki, hawks, dabi, overhaul x fem reader
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SHIGARAKI
He knows you love to dance ever since he met you, but, as you may imagine, that's not really his field of expertise. When you go to events where dancing is common, you usually stay sat. You do it because you want to, and you don't wish to leave him alone, still, he feels bad about it.
A week ago, he asked you to teach him. He said he'd like to dance at least a bit with you when necessary, which obviously had you jumping with joy.
That's what led you here. A week later, on your living room, attempting to learn the basics. This had been the funniest experience for the both of you, at this point you didn't even care if he learned or not, the dancing lessons where enough of a reward.
You laughed loud as he stumped on your foot for the third time, and he pretended to be angry. "Stop!" You yelled while pushing him away from you, however, his feet got caught with the rug and he fell over you. Both of your bodies hit the floor shortly after and minutes went by before you could stop laughing. "I'm done, I don't want to do this anymore." He said, now annoyed, but you could tell he was just embarrassed. "Does that mean you don't like practicing with me?" You asked, making the saddest face you could. He couldn't resist it. "I do! I like it, It's just that I'm really bad at this and-" You cut his desperate babbling off with a kiss. Needless to say, the dancing sessions went on for longer.
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HAWKS
Oh Hawks loves dancing as well, and he's fairly decent at it, too. He actually first met you at a party to commemorate heroes. You were there because of a friend and he was one of the stars of the event.
He was talking to a couple of his friends when all of a sudden, he stopped listening to everything they were saying when the most beautiful person he'd ever seen crossed his eyes. You were dancing with your friend and you looked absolutely gorgeous, he couldn't remember the last time he had been so attracted to someone, but here you were.
He had to approach you, and he did. He introduced himself (which wasn't needed) "I saw you from afar, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't ask you to dance at least one song with me." He said this as he offered you his hand, however, you looked back at your friend who hadn't come here with anyone else. "Thank you, but I'm good here," you responded with a kind smile, but before the hero could say anything else, your friend kicked you subtly, but hard. "Ouch!" You exclaimed as you turned to her, her face begging you to go with him. "Fine, one song won't make any harm." You told the hero. His face lightened with pure joy, and you definitely did not dance just one song. If he wasn't in love with you before, he totally was by the time the party was over.
Taking this precedent into account, dancing with you brings him great memories, so he loves it as much as you do.
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DABI
He's not a dancer. It's not that he's terrible at it, he can surprisingly fend for himself on that field, though he isn't great either. The thing here is that he feels a bit ridiculous when he dances, at least not in public. Unless he's having a big melodramatic moment.
In private, however... He's the kind of man who whines about everything, but he's never ever complained when you approach him to dance in the comfort of your home. He actually likes it that way, he loves having you in his arms, and he enjoys doing anything that you love. Even if he pretends he doesn't.
And he loves to pretend that he's annoyed when you dance, as you do it quite often. Just like now. Dancing all over the kitchen with a bowl full of pancakes batter on your hands. "You'll drop that." He says as he rolls his eyes at you. "Of course not! I know what I'm doing!" You respond with a big smile on your face. "Come on, don't be such a killjoy, you should join me." He looks at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, which only encourages you to put the bowl down and force your boyfriend to dance with you. He shows resistance at first, but you win him over quite quickly. The frown he had at first, now replaced by a subtle smile. It's just so hard to say no to you.
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OVERHAUL
I mean... Define dancer. He isn't great at a club, but he sure is a good dancing partner at a wedding. Slow dancing is more his thing.
He doesn't love it, but he doesn't hate it either. He feels indifferent towards dancing overall, but he does not feel indifferent towards you at all. He'll comply with whatever makes you happy.
Kai had a very busy week. Your birthday was coming and he really wanted to throw you a nice party for your closest friends to attend, the thing is, he struggles a bit to keep it simple, so what was meant to be a tiny reunion, turned into a somewhat big event. He just felt like you deserve everything he can give you.
It had been a lot of work, but he was more than happy to do it. Especially now that he had you in his arms, with a beautiful dress, and the dancing floor under your feet. "Thank you so much, Kai." You say to him before laying a kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday, love. Anything for you." He responds, as he pulls away and places a strand of hair behind your ear. He would've never imagined himself doing this for anyone else, he thinks as he turns you around. He must really love you, right?
MASTERLIST
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crabs-with-sticks · 3 days ago
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Trick Q+A on the solavellan ending
Haven't seen this going around much, I'm guessing because it was originally posted when everybody had their veilguard spoiler defenses up. But I did find it interesting.
Trick is answering some questions over on Bluesky and here are the questions and answers decoded from the rot13 cipher. Hopefully this provides more clarity and eases people's anxieties here and we can move forward in a more positive light with discussions: Q: Will where Solas and Inky end up in the Fade be strictly regret-themed or will her joining and their love influence it into something a bit less bleak (hence the specific elven phrasing)? rooting for my girl not to be in fade jail A: She's speaking both romantically and literally. It won't be terrible if they're in there together. Q: In the Solavellan ending, it says that Solas is Lavellan's true love. I know you've said she represents his future, but do you think she's his true love also? A: Yes. We framed it the way we did because the Inquisitor was your character last game, and because some people, we imagined, were doing this to give the Inquisitor the happy ever after she deserved, not Solas. Q: Did solas just Fade-mail it to her and it appeared? A: Inky and Morrigan have their ways. Q: Could you please tell us, if it is possible, why it was only Mythal's words that allowed Solas to stop this train of endless regrets from rolling into the abyss? I'm sorry, but it seemed too easy to me after so many centuries. Perhaps I don't understand the core of their relationship. A: That's what he needed to hear. Not because he loved Mythal more, but because she was the reason everything went wrong. She, the past, tells him to let go of all the mistakes of the past. And then the Inquisitor he wanted to be with is there to show him a better future. Q: Does Solas love Lavellan as much as he loves Mythal? I know Mythal is kinda all things to him- leader, oldest friend, maybe lover, and that's hard to overcome. On the other hand, his love for Lavellan seems less all-consuming, but purer. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts! A: Mythal is his past, where he made terrible mistakes. A romanced Lavellan is a bright future he doesn't think he deserves until he fixes all of those past mistakes. Q: When Solas tells Lavellan that the place he is going is terrible, where exactly sre they going? Back to the regret prison or somewhere else? A: The implication is that he's going back to the prison, and now that he'll be working to try to heal the blight while he's there.
Source (its to a reddit thread not the actual original quotes, and I'm going to trust that they did their due diligence because I don't have the energy to do it myself lol)
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talesfromawannabejournalist · 16 hours ago
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Leathery Love
@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here's part one, hope you enjoy
and @lilacwriter07 enjoy your early Christmas present
Lilith: I'm leaving you Lucifer
After twenty years of marriage never did Lucifer ever imagine those words ever being uttered from the love of his life's lips. Especially not on the day of their wedding anniversary.
Lucifer: What?
Was all he could say to Lilith who looked both tired and disappointed with him as she sat at the table with her arms crossed. They were supposed to be eating a meal together, drinking some wine, then watching a movie. They were at home at Lilith's insistence from a few days ago. She said she wanted to spend the evening with just him. No one else was to see what she wished to do.
He just thought she wanted to try something new. Not break his fucking heart in private so no one can see him cry.
Lilith: I said I'm leaving you Lucifer, I want a divorce.
Lucifer felt his heart start to pace as his breathing slowly turned erratic.
Lucifer: But, but, but I, I don't...why Lily
Lilith bristled at the nickname for a moment before answering.
Lilith: Because I no longer wish to be in a relationship where I fell out of love with you years ago. I swore that when Charlie moved out, I would finally bring myself to get out of a place that has only brought me misery.
With that she stood up and headed upstairs. Lucifer was still reeling when about five minutes later she was coming back down with two bags full of her stuff. Her stuff. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight of them. It meant,
Lucifer: Lilith please, I beg of you don't go! Please! Lilith
He ran to her when she got to the doors. She stared him down as he stood in front of her exit; however, Lucifer could only stare up with tears starting to stream out onto his pale cheeks.
Lucifer: Lilith...please my darling I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong.
Lucifer then proceeded to do something he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime due to the man's humungous pride and ego.
Beg
He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged for her to change her mind. Never did Lucifer ever felt so pathetic in his entire existence. He thought that it would get Lilith to at least think about doing something other than divorce. However, the thirty-eight-year-old singer had already made up her mind a long time ago.
Lilith: I'm sorry Lucifer, but I don't think you were ever meant to be mine.
With that she stepped aside, threw open the doors of their large, grand home and walked out. Never to step inside her former home again. All while Lucifer kneeled on the ground in total despair. It was only when he heard a car engine turning on did, he turn around and saw Lilith pull out of the driveway with her purple convertible and proceed to drive away did he close the door behind him to let out the anguish sob that had built up in his throat.
--
(Two months later)
Lucifer felt like his life was slowly falling apart. Ever since Lilith left, she had been sending him papers and been talking through her lawyer to him. Lilith had been one the most shining aspects of his life. In the entirety of their marriage, he devoted to making her happy. Including to working hard to provide for the both of them. So that way she could work on her music career. He bought her anything she wished for; heck he'd buy her the greatest diamond in all the world to make her happy.
In the end he guessed it just wasn't enough. When she sent him the final paperwork to sign off on their divorce completely shut the once proud, strong man down. Lucifer hadn't been out of the house in weeks and had mostly been taking to moping around the house. Or just laying all day in his bed, not sleeping, just staring up the ceiling, wall, or even occasionally the tv in his room that he put on for white noise. He didn't even go to the office.
Which would have been worse if Lucifer wasn't the boss of his toy company. Even if lately, he's been having his brother/partner Mammon and his assistant Moxxine take care of his work for him. Speaking of family, his brothers, sisters, and even daughter had seen how bad his depression had been and wanted to help him. Especially his daughter Charlie, who went to her Uncle Ozzie and begged for her to find a way to make him feel better. Since him and Ozzie have been the closest out of all seven siblings. Oz had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work
Lucifer: A sex dungeon?!
Lucifer sat across from his brother in his living room while in his robe. Oz noticed he also had deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair looked a bit oily, and he appeared to be growing some hair around his muzzle. However, despite his shaggy appearance his body was rigid, his stark blue eyes wide awake as he took in what his brother just suggested.
Ozzie: Hun, please I know this might seem a lot and too soon after...
Lucifer: I don't care about ugh her. Look Oz even if I wasn't hung up over losing my wife, I don't think it would be right to go to fucking prostitutes!
Ozzie: But that's the thing though I really think these girls or boys can help you, Luci!
Lucifer: How!? How in the hell can they help me!?
Ozzie: By helping you get over Lilith. If you're with one those bad guys down, there soon Lilith will be nothing more than a distant memory. Plus, I distinctly remembering you telling me about this one domniatrix porno you kept watching. You kept telling me how you wish you could be Lilith's naughty boy. Well now you can do that! Just you know not with her.
Lucifer: I told you about that. Since when?
Ozzie: Since that time at that barbeque back in July where you got drunk and confessed to me.
Lucifer must've been hard hammered drunk to have told his brother about that. Since usually Lucifer was extremely private when it came to what happened in his bedroom. The blond man opened his mouth to once again reject his brother's offer but then stopped to think about it. It had been so long since he'd been in the warmth of someone's arms in the bed. Even before Lilith left, she had been distant from him for quite some time.
It actually was the reason for Lucifer looking up on those sites in the first place. He knew no love would be with the person he'd be with; he still wanted to forget about his heartbreak. Even if it was for only one night. Taking a breath, he looked straight at his expecting brother and said,
Lucifer: Alright, I'll go.
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caplanbuckybarnes · 2 days ago
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Quit Playin' Games (Dean Winchester)
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Summary: Dean leaves because he loves you too much and doesn't want to hold you back from yourself any longer.
Warnings: angst :)
WC: 860
Read on Ao3!
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The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room, but it only accentuated the cold emptiness that had settled between you and Dean. You could barely remember how it had started—how it had all gone so wrong. All you knew was that the man who had once held you in his arms, who had promised he’d never leave you, was standing there now, distant and untouchable.
You had always known Dean Winchester carried a weight—one so heavy that it often felt as though it might break him. But you had never been afraid to stand by his side. You had seen his darkness, his flaws, his brokenness. You had loved him because of them, not in spite of them.
But now?
Now, everything felt like it was slipping through your fingers. The moments of tenderness were fewer and farther between. The quiet nights spent talking about your hopes and dreams had turned into silences that stretched on for what felt like eternity. And the love you thought was invincible now seemed fragile, ready to shatter with just a single word.
And tonight, that word had come.
"I don't need you."
You still couldn't fully comprehend how it had been said. Dean had been standing at the door, his jacket in hand, ready to leave. He had that look in his eyes—the one he always got when he was running, when he was about to push everyone away. But this time, it had felt different. This time, the words stung in a way they never had before.
"I don’t need you," he repeated, his voice cold, final.
Your heart had frozen in your chest. “What do you mean, Dean? We’ve been through hell together. You need me.”
“I don't. I don’t need anyone. Not like this.” His voice cracked, but only just, like he was trying so hard to remain indifferent.
You swallowed hard, taking a step toward him. “You’re not thinking straight. Please... what’s going on?”
But he wasn’t listening. His eyes were glassy, but you couldn’t tell if it was from pain or something else—something you weren’t ready to confront.
"I thought you cared about me," you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of your own heartbreak.
His expression shifted for a moment—just a flicker of something that resembled regret—but it was gone before you could even grasp it. “I do care about you. I just... don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
You wanted to believe him, but the words didn’t match the actions. They never did.
"You said you loved me," you whispered, voice barely audible. "You promised."
Dean's face hardened. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked like he might say something—something that could fix this, something that could put all the pieces of your broken heart back together. But instead, he just shook his head, a sad, resigned smile tugging at his lips.
“I do love you. But not enough. Not enough to hold you back, to drag you through this crap.”
The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. You had always known the dangers that came with loving someone like him, someone as broken and haunted as Dean, but you had never imagined this—never imagined him walking away from you.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Dean’s voice was quieter now, but the edge of finality was still there, sharp and cutting. “I’m no good for you. I never was. And I’m not gonna drag you down with me. You deserve better than this.”
The pain in his voice—the pain he was trying so hard to mask—made your chest ache, but the realization settled in.
Dean was pushing you away because he thought you deserved better. Because he thought he wasn’t enough for you.
But all you could think about was how you were enough for him. You always had been.
“I thought you cared about me,” you said again, your voice thick with emotion, a tear slipping down your cheek.
Dean’s eyes softened, his lips trembling, but he didn’t step forward. He didn’t reach for you like you had expected him to.
“I do care about you,” he whispered, his voice cracking with pain. “But sometimes... caring means letting go.”
It was the hardest thing you’d ever heard him say.
You took a step back, shaking your head. “No, Dean. I don’t believe that. I won’t believe that.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned, his shoulders slumping as he walked toward the door. He didn’t look back.
You wanted to run to him, to pull him back, to make him stay. But something in your chest—something broken, something deep—held you back.
You wanted to believe he would come back, that this was just a moment of weakness, a misstep. But deep down, you knew the truth. He was already gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound was deafening.
And you were left standing there, in the silence of your own shattered heart, wondering how something so fragile—something so beautiful—could fall apart so easily.
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seven-thewanderer · 3 days ago
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Okay I’ve been trying to draw this for who-knows-how-long, but I just kept forgetting I was drawing it while drawing it, and doing something else instead
But I finally doodled some lil design imaginations of Sun and Moon…
…from MASM ooh betcha didn’t see that coming it’s neither canon FNAF or SAMS
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Firstly, Sun
I kinda imagine his body’s more like… a hard doll? Idk like wooden maybe? But he’s still an animatronic that’s just how his outer casing feels. He also kind of has retractable hands, so he can swap em out for different things, which I doodled some examples on the side (normal hands, feather dusters, lil grabby claw, vacuum - which the vacuum empties from his chest)
There wasn’t much I had for Sun (at least that I remember) cus I kept getting distracted the most while drawing him
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Then there’s Moon
I imagine he has more of a plush feel to his body (since Moons are typically started off as the Naptime attendant on these kind of things) so his face and hands are more plushy
(So I imagine when he does his tech stuff, he has to wear tough gloves so he doesn’t tear the fabric of his hand)
(Also still animatronic, just a plush outer casing) (it’s like how I imagine Lefty’s body to be on EAPS but we’re not talking about the Security Breach Shows rn)
(Also mid-typing I decided it’d be better to imagine Moon with one of those tough… porcelyn? Faces, while the rest of him’s a plushy material)
Also, both of them have glowy forearms & waist & wrist ribbons
also, funny thing: I don’t watch MASM.
I already watch SAMS, LAES, and EAPS, and I don’t know if I could mentally handle the mentality of having to watch all of 4 daily shows instead of 3
So I only occasionally glance at MASM, and I’m slightly invested in Moon’s interest in Sun. (you got this lil gay boy, but dang are you so bad at it XD)
And also I’m pretty sure the thing that made me go back to checking on their channel was when this artist I’m subscribed to was doing voice claims for their characters of their SAMS x Dandy’s World AU, and Moon’s voice claim was the Moon from MASM, and the line of him saying “I’m gonna go bake more cookies!” In what sounded like a near-sob tone was so cute for me from the last time I had heard that Moon, so I was like “I need to know what’s going on here” XD
But yeyeye I’m just gonna leave this here
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splishfish · 1 day ago
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Audio Fun (NSFW)
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Tomura Shigaraki x Reader
Tags: M. Masturbation, Tomura being a gross pervert, idk what else lol
WC: 1.1K
God he missed you so much.
Audio Fun Deleted Scene
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It was late. Nearly 3 am.
Tomura laid in bed, his face illuminated only slightly by the dim light of his phone. His hand gripped onto the phone tightly, red eyes staring at the voice recording he had gotten earlier that day.
He reached over towards the floor, grabbing a pair of earbuds that were lazily strewn across the floor. His heart thumped in his chest, hands growing sweaty as debauched and lewd thoughts raced through his mind, his earbuds connecting to his phone as he placed them into his ears.
You had been gone for a few days, visiting your family for the holidays. Earlier that day, you had called him, updating him on all the fun things you and your family were doing. He won’t lie, he was pissed off.
He didn’t understand why you had to go visit your family when you had him now. He could give you anything you wanted, hell, he’d even participate in those stupid holiday festivities you loved so much.
But he couldn’t let his mind wander off. After all, he was so painfully hard, and those unfulfilling thoughts would only put a ruin his mood. A harrowing smile formed on his face as he pressed play on the 30 minute voice recording, your voice flowing into his ears.
Maybe if he had even the slightest semblance of shame, he would feel more embarrassed about using your voice to get off, but you had been gone for so long, could you really blame him for wanting to ease that awful ache in his pants?
”Hey baby! How have you been?”
Your sweet voice was intoxicating to him. You were so eager to talk to him, and that little pet name you had called him made his cock twitch.
He reached down, sliding his hand under his pants to release his cock, just barely raising his hips to lower his pants just far down enough to free his hefty balls and his weeping cock.
”Things have been good here! I haven’t seen my family in so long, it’s nice to catch up!”
A small groan left his lips, his hand finally pumping his twitching cock and squeezing pearly beads of pre out of his slit. The debauched smile on his face grew, a small stinging in his cracked lips as his mind was filled with vile thoughts. He wondered what you would think of him, masturbating to the sound of your voice while you’re happily talking about your little family meetup.
”I miss you so much! I’ll be home in a few days okay?”
He let out a sigh, his thumb running over his leaking slit. Fuck. He missed you so much. He missed the feeling of your tight hole wrapping around his cock. He missed your pretty whines and moans. He missed the way you would cry and beg for his cock.
His hips bucked up slightly, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he groaned. God he missed you.
”How have things been going over there? Have you been eating?”
If he wasn’t so busy jerking himself off, he would have rolled his eyes at your words. He couldn’t understand why you were so worried about useless things. It was stupid, really, the way you concerned yourself over him, the way you sounded so caring and selfless. 
It made both his heart flutter and his balls tighten.
”But…as much as I love being here, I miss you. I can’t wait to come back home.” Home.
A low groan left his mouth, his hand tightening around the base of his cock.
 “Fuck…”
God he missed you so much. He missed your tender touches. He missed your scent, your body, your voice. He missed you.
His hand moved faster under the blanket, a muffled ’shlck shlck shlck’ could be heard, even through his earbuds.
”To be honest I- Hey! Are you even listening?!”
He chuckled breathlessly at your whiny tone, and all he could imagine was the way your lips were probably curled into a cute pout…so kissable, so pretty and soft. Ah…he missed the way your lips wrapped around his cock, glossy with pre-cum and spit as he fucked your face just the way you liked it.
His hand reached up, pulling back the foreskin from his tip to roughly thumb his aching slit. He hissed at the feeling, wishing it was your tongue that curled around his cock.
”Tomura? Tomura! Hey! Don’t ignore me!” He barely registered the whine that escaped him, too distracted by the way you called out his name. So desperate for his attention, so needy and wanting. Fuck, he wanted you so bad. He wanted to fuck you until the only thing you could scream was his name, slobbering like a bitch in heat as you desperately fucked yourself on his cock.
His hand began to twist against his length, pumping himself furiously as he finally started to feel that burning heat in his stomach. He was so close. So so close.
”Hey…y’know I uh…I was thinking…when I get home…we could spend some…time catching up…if you know what I mean…” Oh god. Fuuck…
He ripped the blanket off his searing hot body, placing the phone on the pillow next to him as he brought his now free hand to his testicles. He rolled them against his palm, squeezing them as he bucked his hips desperately into his hand, thoughts of your return filling his mind.
He was going to fucking ruin you. He was going to fuck you until he stuffed you full of his cum, over and over and over-!
”I’ve felt so empty without you Tomu…I miss your cock so much…Wanna stuff myself with your cock...”
It was almost painful how violently he was fisting himself, his calloused hands slick with his arousal as he desperately chased his high. Low moans and curses left his lips in strings of pleasure, his eyes rolling back as he felt the heat in his stomach begin to snap.
“Fuck fuck fuck-!”
He was gonna cum. He was gonna cum while fisting himself to the sound of your voice. Oh fuck he was gonna cum and you were completely oblivious! You were probably sleeping in bed, snoring away while he fantasized about fucking you in all sorts of ways when you came home-!
”Would you like that Tomu?”
Yes! God yes! He wanted to fuck you so bad!
He was right there- Fuck oh god he can feel his balls tighten with need, sweat dripping down from his forehead as he moved his arm in a burning workout. Fuck, he’s cummi-!
”Audio Disconnected” His eyes snapped open as the robotic voice of his earbuds echoed in his ears, the sudden burning heat in his stomach snapping as he cursed in anger, semen limply spurting onto his stomach and chest in a weak stream.
“Oh you FUCKING-!”
Maybe he should charge his earbuds before using them next time.
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Did you enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist for more!
Hello!! This idea came from @arakn0 on their twitter! Pls go check them out on all their socials, theyre so cool and awesome! TY Arakno for letting me use this idea <3
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hollyhomburg · 1 day ago
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(Angst) I have this headcannon for the angsty alternative ending for BILY, that when the pack are in their ‘living apart, no idea where the m/c is or if she’s safe/hurting/needs them but trying to be respectful of the fact that she does not want to be apart of the pack anymore’ era sometimes… her mating mark starts to feel like an ache, and the loneliness burns through her no matter how much she tries to ignore it.
And she tosses and turns in her little attic apartment aware that she doesn’t even have their numbers anymore because it’s been a year or two too long, she doesn’t even remember what yoongis might be. But she knows where the house is, she knows how to get too it.
So…she goes, looks at it from the street first, the warm windows upstairs, the dark downstairs, the soft light in taes library room. Sometimes she gets angry by the fact that she can’t turn back time, can’t go back.
Other times- when the touchstarvedness feels like a gaping wound, she ascends those steps and sits on the outdoor furniture, just for a bit. Just to soak in the little bit of the packs scents, just a tiny bit of their comforting presence. Aware that someone is watching from the window, that there is light under the door, that it’s probably not locked, she could go in but-
She doesn’t. She just sits out there and closes her eyes and then leaves. Sometimes she wishes the packmate watching her would come out and yell at her, shake her by her baggy hoody, and ask her what the fuck shes doing- sitting out here like a stray dog when she’s the one who ran away but they never do.
Once she falls asleep and wakes up to a blanket covering her. Unsure who noticed her out there cheeks burning angry suddenly at no one and nothing just- angry at how things played out. And she leaves- without ever knowing who in the pack is still holding a flame for her.
If I had to put my money on who it was, I’d say jimin. Because logically- anyone else would confront her, spook her with their concern, or worse. But jimin has always been a calculating alpha, has always been able to picture the long con.
He takes in everything- her clothes, not dirty (so she isn’t Litterally homeless, which is good because then he might not manage to resist dragging her inside), but that her wrists- thin and her cheeks- hollow. more hollow than they’ve ever been before (which is not good, because if she dies yoongi dies and she might- she needs)
She looks like rage and grief and trauma are eating her alive again. And jimin would be startled by this- but he sees it every day in yoongi so- he’s a little too used to it.
So Jimîn turns his instincts down to a simmer, and settles for the long hunt
Maybe once or twice when she comes over jimin notices and comes outside- doesn’t say anything just sits next to her, neither of them offering a hand- but maybe a cigarette every now and then. The smoke burning out the words they can’t say- or maybe they actually do talk. Eventually, after the first few times. I imagine it’s one where she comes to him and her hands are visibly shaking. It’s not even winter out anymore- it’s not even cold but she couldn’t lift a glass to her lips without spilling it.
And jimîn wonders if it’s Parkingsons? Drugs? Hunger? It’s hard to tell.
So instead jimîn asks, “do you need money?”
“No, why?” Her voice sounds the same, and jimin does not cry hearing it. Somehow he thought she’d sound different. But it’s the same voice that tae hears in her nightmares, the same voice that jimin once heard begging for namjoons life- the same voice he hears on one of the few recordings yoongi has on his old phone that seem to be the only thing that helps these days.
It’s the same, and jimin almost thought she might not be able to talk still.
He breathes deep, because those times have passed now. They’re both here. Mostly Alive. Jimin geastures with the cigarette.
“To stop whatever that is.” But she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything but shove her hands in her pockets. She leaves- and jimin almost lets her go without saying anything.
“You could come inside you know.” Jimin drinks in the way she looks back at him, half hidden in the shadow at the edge of the streetlight already.
“I know, I just don’t want too.”
And that hurts, that leaves jimjn smoking a whole pack on the porch until the sun starts to rise and his eyes are bloodshot But she comes back, she always comes back.
Jimin starts to store little facts about her. The faded x’s on the back of her hands, the sometimes stamps, the tattoos poking out from under her sleves the thick one over the mating mark on her neck, a rose- is that for tae? Can she smell taes scent from here? does she know that tae fell asleep tonight crying? Jimin’s drenched with the smell of her displeasure. Jimin did notice- the second he walked out- the flare of her nostrils. He doesn’t want to say it.
Good. He thought. She should know
We all miss you
They sit like that. Burning out one cigarette between the two of them, then another, then another before jimin speaks.
“Tae published another book”
“I know, I saw, I even bought the damn thing but-“
“it’s about you, you know”
“I know, I could tell from the damn cover” she takes another puff. “I’m not gonna read it.”
“her readers are eating it up, might even get made into a movie, you know how much teenage girls love starcrossed lovers and all that.”
The m/c would pause, looking jimin up and down, “I know”
another time the m/c offers him a cigarette and jimin says “I quit” and maybe it’s because he already looks guilty that has the m/c asking for more.
“why?”
And then he’d say slowly like he didn’t want to admit it, “jins pregnant again, you know what they say about second hand smoke.” And jimin would- feel not quite so vindicated about the brief look of betrayal across her face but- at least a bit soothed by it. At least she has emotions for them, at least she might want- “more for me then”
and jimin might try and reach up, might try and knock it out of her hand- but she flinches back from the touch, denying it.
Maybe they never touch, maybe that’s one of their rules. I bet she doesn’t come back for a good long while after that. And then one night, jimîn sees her - the back of her head catching the porch light, the distant coos of the new pup upstairs, namjoon’s voice soothing. He pauses looking at the back of her head. Waiting long enough that namjoon calls down the stairs soft “minnîe? Is there something on the porch?” And namjoon might be able to see jimjn from the top of the steps, sees the alpha school his expression neutral, aware that the m/c has turned at the sound of his voice and that she’s looking at jimin and-
And someone’s hurt her. Someone- it had to be someone. Her eyes is swollen, her lip is bloody. Jimin’s heart kicks up and his scent goes sour- upstairs the little pup starts to cry instead of coo, picking up on it.
But jimj schools his scent into something manageable says “it’s nothing hyung, just a stray” And jimin goes back upstairs to get namjoon a bottle but by the Time he gets back down she’s already gone.
There’s a bit of blood on the cushion though. And a note shoved under one of the cushions. Shoved inside a empty pack of cigarettes. “I thought you’d told them I was coming here.”
And when the m/c gets back to her apartment after a long night of work (as a bartender or maybe manager probably) she finds a note under the coffee pot in her kitchen, the edge sticking out.
‘Of course I didn’t tell, I’ll always keep your secrets’
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lowkey-loki245 · 2 days ago
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So, for your Time God ISaT AU, is the Universe also a god? Or are they something else?
Ps. here's some art of what I imagine Siffrin's Time God form could look like
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I also have a grayscale version ;)
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I don't think the universe is a god in this AU. It's mainly because everything and everyone is part of the universe, as said by Loop when you guess they're "part of the universe" in the game. The universe is more just everything and everyone at once? It's kinda hard to describe.
Also, omg, the art is so cool! Thank you so much!
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peppertoastuniverse · 7 hours ago
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Hi pepper!
I have a request for a one shot Gojo x reader. that’s fluffy based off of this song called “memory lane” by aqualina
I do have a scene based off of it but do whatever you’d like. Imagine this, either reader or Gojo finds some old footage of Him, reader, Shoko and Geto hanging out in their high school years. Reader and Gojo reminisce on old memories.
omg thank you for your sweet request ! hope this one was worth the wait ✨
something good – gojo satoru x reader
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contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru mention, ieri shoko mention, light angst with LOTS OF FLUFF, mentally strugging softboy!satoru gojo, lots of yearning, 2 pages of making out, slightly suggestive summary: gojo uncovers hidden memories and realises that all he needs is you wc: 3.6k
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spring time, second year.  “.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.   even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you.
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“satoru?” still concentrating on his nintendo DS, he sighs. he recognizes suguru’s tone, it either going to be a deep question or a fucking stupid one. he rolls over with a groan on suguru’s bed to face his best friend, his book that he was reading lay forgotten on his desk. “yeah?” satoru asks lazily, eyes darting back to his flashing screen. “who do you see yourself as in the future?” oh, here we go. satoru fights the need to roll his eyes. “what do you want for your life?”  “pff, I want to just fucking beat this level.” he says aggravatingly, groaning dramatically as his character dies again. suguru laughs seeing his flashing screen, previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked suguru’s laugh. 
“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?
he blinks. blessed with great strength and power, he knew from a young age that that choice wasn’t something that he was lucky enough to have. satoru never had to worry about the future, he had his whole life planned out for him. the thought never saddened him, and why should it? he wasn’t a fool and believed that all things were equal in this world. he was the chosen one, the future of jujutsu society – that was just how life was –  another consequence of being the honoured he supposed. but glancing at suguru’s thoughtful expression, the flicker of hope and despair in his violet eyes, his rough hands winding through his dark hair, it was clear to see that this obviously mattered to suguru. satoru didn’t understand where suguru was going with this but it was just like him to worry about things that didn’t matter. satoru sighs, attention back to his game,  “i dunno, it’s hard to say when we’re already the strongest. what else could you want?” suguru scoffs, shaking his head “you won’t be a teenager forever – you’d better wake up sooner or later, satoru.” satoru jolts awake, moving his blindfold up to rub his eyes irritatedly. 
shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep. still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him. 
satoru hasn’t been sleeping well lately – not that it was from a lack of effort. he’s tried melatonin pills, exercising before bed, even those sleepy girlie time party mocktails – or whatever you called them – but nothing helped. it definitely wasn’t the endless missions that the irritating higher ups were making him go on, he was used to the workload. maybe he was worried about something. walking quickly through his room, satoru wondered if you were getting enough sleep. did you have dreams too? sleep never seemed to be there when he wanted it. rubbing his face, to fully pull himself into reality, satoru could still feel the remnants of the quiet comfort produced by his unexpected dream. he felt shame at the feeling. guilt in the comfort. 
satoru didnt get a lot of sleep to begin with, but there were times where the extra hours awake weren’t all bad. he might as well be useful, which is how satoru started learning how to cook in the early hours of the morning, proudly surprising tsumiki and megumi with cute bento boxes. he would binge watch a whole tv series at once, determined to tell nanami all about it at jujutsu tech. but he thinks the best use of his time awake was when he was simply seated on the couch with you, listening to you talk about your day until the drowsiness would overtake you and he could just hold you for a little bit. he liked when you came over, tsumiki and megumi liked it too. just last week, when he saw your expression melt when tsumiki begged you to stay for dinner, giving into her like you always have. satoru remembers your grin as you sat next to silently pleased megumi, picking out the tender pieces of chicken from your plate to give him more of his favourite. when you were around satoru noticed that fushiguros were more at ease, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be better if you moved in. but this was uncharted territory – a necessary boundary– protecting you from the rise and fall of his storm. his greed would have to lay dormant in his dreams. 
but the lines were getting blurrier throughout the years. satoru couldnt deny how his face would light up when you’d call him while he was on a lengthy overnight mission. concern smothering the delight in your voice that he was still awake (“satoru! what the fuck, did you even sleep today?”), he’d easy dodge your concerns, covering the fatigue in his voice with teasing remarks and crude jokes to your obvious frown.  “tell me something good, satoru” you’d say, seeing right through him like you always did, voice still laced with sweetness, wanting nothing more than to listen to him talk. 
taking wide strides across his room to throw something on, satoru rustles quickly into his closet grabbing whatever looked clean and appropriate. if he showed up in his crinkled pajamas again to a meeting again, you’d surely cuss him out. his eyebrows crease at the thought of disappointing you, he was supposed to make you smile not stress you out – he made a promise to himself to always look out for you and there you go again worrying about him. 
hastily grabbing the folded dark blue sweater at the back of his closet, blue eyes widen at a box toppling to the floor. its contents dramatically spilling across the cold hardwood floors. 
great. he didn’t have time for this. groaning, he quickly kneels down to right the box, his breathing hitches. 
strewn across his floor, he sees scenes of his missing dreams. photographs of his time at jujutsu tech as a student, his eyes taking in the many photographs that shoko had taken, moments of a simpler past. gathering the pile of photos, he slowly rifles through them – a photo of shoko and him with matching peace signs, a photo of you doing shoko’s hair, blurry photos of suguru chasing after you when you’d steal his cigarettes, snickering photos of him trying to climb suguru like a tree, a photo of you and kento sharing sandwiches. 
another lifetime ago. he picks up the slightly faded photo of himself and you, a reminder of a well loved memory. satoru shakes his head softly at the way you sat on his back while he was sprawled out on the gym mats, his glasses perched at the top of your head acting as a crown on your shit eating face.  satoru cant help but grin at his own small pout in the grainy photo. shoko always had the best timing. you had a bet with suguru that if you could get gojo’s glasses, he would treat you to unlimited free ramen from that nice place in shibuya with the fresh noodles for two months. 
satoru remembered how you’d excitedly roll off him ignoring his grumbling, “toru, you know i had to win! it’s suguru! have you seen how much sugu eats? that fucker would run me dry! but don’t worry, i’ll get him to pay for you too.” 
he never told you that he had let you win of course, not putting up much of a fight, distracted by the smile on your face – so bright that he couldn’t bear to diminish it. you must have had some sort of curse in your smile, even convincing a begrudging suguru into paying for satoru everytime, “sugu, you have to! he’s going to whine and cry, do you really want to deal with that?” 
after that month, satoru never went to back that ramen place again– too sick of it to go back. he could hear the creaking floors when the three of you would arrive,  the smell of the rich broth and the sound of suguru’s laughter when he teased you.   satoru knows you havent had shio ramen since then – you insisted on have ramen for every meal for a month to suguru’s annoyance. perhaps he’d invite you to go eat there again if it was still there. 
somewhere in his mind he thinks he hears the warm sound of your arrival, the jingling of the key that he gave you when the fushiguros first moved in. your usual light steps, heavy now with annoyance. 
“really, satoru?” you yell, annoyance dripping from your sharp tongue. “i’ve been calling you a billion times, this is an important meeting – we can’t be late again. you fucking said you’d be ready by the time i –” you see his still figure hunched at his closet. your eyes narrow in confusion, your tightened fist unclenching at the sight of his still broad back. 
“... satoru?” you call, voice softening as you notice the tension in his shoulders and the unnatural stillness of his too tall body. curiously you creep up behind him, your  slow hands feel his shoulders, the tension cold and heavy in his muscles, your hesitant hands leaving a trail of fire behind them. arms weaving their way around his slender neck, a place that you’ve been before. your eyes take in the photos strewn on the floor, visions of a past life swirling in his cluttered mind. your eyes widen. 
“..’toru?” you try again – more gently – calling him from the abyss, a light in a rough storm. eventually, you feel his large cold hand reach up to gently hold your right hand in response, his blue eyes tear away from the photographs, tousled white hair leaning against your abdomen, his tired eyes looking up at your concerned face. 
“hey.” he greets you, trying to mask his fallen expression with a hollow smile, a carefully practiced defense, something that he developed in childhood but perfected in suguru’s absence. but you knew him well. you knew how his eyebrows would crease or how his lip twitched when he was on the verge of crying.  
the dark rings around his eyes echoes you concern – were they darker than usual? you sigh as you take into account his far away stare, his icy watery eyes. crouching down, all anger forgotten, you look over his shoulder to take a closer look at the photo he’s holding. apologetically you let go of his hand in exchange for the photograph, sitting down beside him instead. you miss his eyebrows furrow slightly missing the comforting squeeze of your hand. a bittersweet smile dancing on your face, you stare at the photo, all words dying on your suddenly too heavy tongue. a photo of a past life, a happier time:  suguru’s exasperated expression contrasting his bright amethyst eyes, face fashioned in a pout as he was sandwiched obnoxiously in between you and satoru. a wild grin decorating your face, mischievous eyes closed in mid laughter at suguru’s grumbling, while satoru pulled bunny ears behind suguru.
“oh god, look at him.” you whisper pointing out suguru’s dark shorter hair when he first arrived at jujutsu tech. you almost forgot what he looked like before he – 
your eyes blink, you didn’t want to think about it. 
satoru scoffs, “i know, doesn’t he look like an idiot?” 
“remember how you’d make fun of him all the time? you were such a bully to him – he really hated you when we started.” you laugh sadly.  
“that’s not my fault, he was fucking asking for it! he kept calling me q-tip! or nepobaby!” he counters, betraying tenderness in his tone. “shut up, i know you liked it when he called you anything close to baby!” you quip back, face denouncing you in a soft grin. a heavy silence invades the intimate space between you two, his absence sitting in between you, his rightful spot now vacant.  suguru. you lean your head on satoru’s shoulder, his arm moving around you to settle at your waist instinctively. you look into his eyes reading him easily: i miss him too. 
suguru’s defection was still a sore spot in your mind. satoru still hasnt been able to say his name out loud, suguru’s name carrying too much weight. you suspected that satoru wanted to carry his best friend with him despite the heaviness, a sense of masochistic comfort. you hoped that he knew that you were always there for him when the time came, you still felt the hurt too. 
but there was a strange sort of solace that still lingered in his name. suguru’s memory was still soft if you focused but the pain caused by his name was still sharp and rough around the edges. when was the last time you and satoru spoke this openly about him?
the memory still hurt. a wound that would reopen at any given movement, unable to heal, cutting deeper as time went by. 
mercifully sensing the pounding of your heavy heart, satoru clears his throat and fishes out another photo in the messy pile. a photo of shoko and himself, a cigarette dancing on shoko’s lips, gojo looking at her in mid conversation. 
“ewww – look at you here.” you point out, wrinkling your nose, “this really wasnt your best haircut...” 
he scoffs, the twinkle in his eyes showing you his amusement.  “you’re the one who did it – ”
“oh fuck, right!” you laugh, thinking about the very first time satoru begged you to cut his hair – shoko was away on a rare mission–  yelping at you when you closed your eyes in nervousness, resulting in an uneven cut. you both remembered how shoko laughed so hard she cried when she saw him. you definitely didn’t cut his hair this time, admiring his soft locks and even trim. you move your generous hands to comb through his soft hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his undercut under your slow hands. he closes his eyes, a please sigh escaping his lips, tension immediately easing from his body.
“it’s better now though, hey? makes me even more handsome,” he teases, his eyes still closed. 
“nah, still ugly. brings out your buggy eyes. ‘m so glad you started wearing the blind fold.” you mutter, still playing with his hair absentmindedly. 
ignoring his whine, you laugh, “wow, shoko still looks amazing though.. look at her cute little cheeks! I forgot how she used to put pins in her hair like that.” previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked your laugh. 
he watches while a strange far away expression infiltrates your face, picking up a photo, edges creased contrasting the vividness of his memory. shoko and suguru smiling at the camera, while you and satoru were in mid conversation smiling at each other. spring time, second year. 
“.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.  
even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you. your presence somehow simultaneously exciting him and putting him at ease. maybe it started when you stole his glasses in first year, or the countless detentions you both got in. surely, it must have been the night that suguru left. in the darkness he wasn’t sure who was holding who, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him in your sleep.
maybe it was when you showed up at megumi’s school when he first got into a fight even though you were in the middle of a mission last month, a fire in your eyes. or maybe it was when you comforted tsumiki when she came home upset over a fight with one of her friends. maybe it was in the way you talked her through it, rubbing her back gently while you listened to her through her teary words. or when you ate all his mochi yesterday, cheekily claiming “you said you’d share, satoru!” whenever it started, he knew that something different was blossoming into maturity in the past few months – something that he never knew could be a possibility –  let alone for someone like him. 
“we should take an updated photo, we never have photos of just us,” you decide, turning to face him fully. “my phone or yours?” he asks, eyes still the photo, breathing in the way you smiled at him all those years ago. unchanged. 
“mhm, yours.” you say as he digs his phone out of his back pocket. “i want a good one, ‘kay toru?? i dont need any more photos of you sticking your tongue out..” you mutter, scooching closer to him. “oy, come closer – you’re so far,” you whine, grabbing his forearm urging him to get closer for a better photo. 
“c’mere then..” he mutters, gently shuffling you so that you’re sitting in his lap, as you hum in content at the warmth of his skin against yours. he easily drowned you, this familiar place, his familiar embrace. yet this time you felt the tide shift, something softer, vulnerable – the calm waters after a storm.  you lean your head to his as you both smile for the camera as the shutter echoes through the room. 
moving impossibly closer to you, he turns his head towards you, his phone lay forgotten on the floor. sensing his stare you turn your head to his, eyes questioning his soft gaze. as the air grows thicker bursting with the weight of years of fondness and poorly hidden desires, your eyes flicker to the curve of his lips. breathing the same air as him, you feel light headed, drunk off the very presence of him.   
inching closer he feels his soft lips meet yours, a fluttering feeling, hesitant and foreign but firm and sure. you easily wind your arms around his neck, sighing as you pull him closer, jumping into the deep end when you’ve been wading in the shallows for years. he effortlessly maneuvers you to straddle his lap, large hands pressing against your back, pulling you closer to meld his heart to yours, his hands begging to memorize the feeling of you. 
too preoccupied drowning in him, you hesitantly break away from him to breathe, only to rest your forehead on his. grounding yourself in the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek, uneven and heavy, your erratic heartbeat threatens to break the fragile silence. the air grew hot and heavy, buzzing with anticipation and nerves.  satoru bumps his slender nose with your playfully, causing you to grin. a relieved smile dancing on his face in reply, a silent conversation dancing in his eyes, a celebration of his love, a proclamation of his devotion to you, an apology for waiting this long, an admission of forever. 
needing to feel more of him, you move your hand to cup his flushed cheek, the sweetness in his skin grounds you once more – satoru was always the question and the solution wound tightly into one. confessions of the past and future swirling in his blue, you meet the weight of his tender gaze like you were carrying the strongest’s life in your very hands. his skin burning with your touch, you greedily move to kiss him to soothe the ache, swallowing his smile in your greed. 
melting with the reassurance of his lips to yours like a signature on a previously forgotten love letter, you wonder how you lasted this long without his lips on yours. you bite back a pleased smile as he reciprocates eagerly, deepening the kiss, tongues dancing, his soft lips moving in tandem with a bruising promise to always be yours if you let him. when your hands weave through his hair, a dark purr escaping his throat, reverberating through your core. his arm grips you tightly as his other hand moves to settle at the nape of your neck, feeling your heart beat in sync through his flushed skin. 
breathlessly, with great effort two magnets part, your hands loosening your grip on his soft t shirt. breaths tangling together, drinking in each other. 
still intoxicated by the feeling of you, satoru can’t help but nuzzle into your warmth, his forehead finding yours once more. his eyes still on your swollen lips, evidence of his want, his mind already on the thought of kissing you again, like he would die without the feeling. “y’okay?” you mumble, heaving chest enjoying his touch. 
he chuckles at the absurdity of your question, you should know by now that he was always okay as long as you were with him – the only time that he feels he would get better is when you were there. 
“hey – don’t laugh…” you mutter suddenly embarrassed by his stare, a deeper blush finding a way onto your cheeks emphasizing your growing pout. laughing fully now, his strong arms bring you closer as they wind around your waist sweetly.
unable to resist, you lightly kiss his jawline as his wandering hands brush some hair out of your face. “hmph, you’re such a dick and after everything i do for you too…” you playfully whisper without malice, leaning into his broad chest, rolling your eyes.
“mm.. how should i make it up to you?” he mumbles, slender hand tilting your chin up to force your gaze to look at him. as you bravely meet his tender gaze, you notice that something different was in his eyes.
“damn, i gotta help you with that one too?” you tease, giggle blooming in your throat as he kisses our nose gently. “well… i have a few ideas.” he hums, moving to kiss you fully, slow and sweet savouring you. “you always do…” you mutter, eyes on his grinning lips. 
perhaps now he could answer suguru’s question he thought as you move to rest your head on his shoulder. satoru knew he wanted you. holding you in his arms now, feeling your shy smile on his neck –  he knew that you were something good.
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requests are open a/n: they did not make it to the meeting lol ngl this request was tough, but i loved the challenge of writing my first smoochie smoochie scene.
dividers by @/adornedwithlight
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