#but the fact his friends care him so much their defending him against his make believe wife is <<<<33333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[purplecelestial-buddy]

It's so funny to me that the fandom has come to see Hirano as a Sasamiya promoter of sorts because while he is, it took him some time to get accustomed to the idea of them together. And while he was never a hater Sasaki's actions towards Miyano certainly used to get on his nerves.

At first he was so worried and probably even felt a little guilty because (as mentioned in the following screenshot) because the only reason why Sasaki knows which class Miya is in, is thanks to him.

But like, that's not the face of a friend that's happy to play cupid and get their two acquaintances together. Not at all, that's the face of someone who puts his sempai-kouhai relationship with Miyano over his (pseudo) friendship with Sasaki.

Hirano from the first chapters would have jailed Sasaki if he were allowed to. (And he has his reasons, Sasaki has been something since the first chapters)

Anyway, the progression of events is really interesting.

He started, quite literally, shielding Miyano from Sasaki.

Then, he came to accept their relationship.

And at the end he really was rooting for them, to the point he ended up outright lying just so Miyano could meet Sasaki and they could talk it out and confess.

[gf2bellamy]

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

part 2

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious. 

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect. 

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit. 

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day. 

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder. 

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore. 

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way. 

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you. 

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something. 

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present. 

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out. 

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully. 

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom. 

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near. 

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you. 

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything. 

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities. 

You didn’t think you were enough for him. 

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you. 

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. 

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark. 

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open. 

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.” 

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you. 

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.” 

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.” 

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.” 

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.” 

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?” 

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in. 

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.” 

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak. 

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. 

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it. 

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.” 

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you. 

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.” 

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.” 

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. 

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest. 

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.” 

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.” 

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave. 

They stayed. 

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins? 

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear. 

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly. 

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved. 

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. 

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth. 

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought. 

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it. 

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much. 

Still, there were cracks in your resolve. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall. 

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air. 

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you. 

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you. 

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing. 

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.” 

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth. 

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.” 

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work. 

He let it go—for now. 

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the TV did little to drown out your thoughts. 

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.  

Then came a knock at your door. 

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door. 

When you opened it, your breath caught. 

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady. 

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?” 

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind. 

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.” 

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air. 

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat. 

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. 

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade. 

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears. 

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response. 

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever. 

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain. 

“I don't want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

[laroserie]

— Various x-men characters dating a non-mutant!reader

— characters ; Scott Summers, Peter Maximoff, Kurt Wagner, Hank McCoy

— version with others characters ; not out yet

— warning ; no particular tw. talk about self estimee and doubt. (as always author has not started reading the comics and their knowledge come from the different xmen cartoon and my hazy memories of the film <3) ( also no cartoon gif for peter because i couldn't find any ... is he even in any of the xmen cartoons ), author decided that Peter has self-confidence issues, also Peter part kinda slide tracked and has more about Peter and his struggle than him dating reader whose a human ... sorry! (his part is also a bit short ...)

— Scott Summers

Scott has no particular qualm around you being a regular human, he loves you just as you are, and nothing can change that. That said, Scott cannot help himself but be, patronising at time. In his mind, you being a human just make you be at risks, you can't defend yourself if you get attacked, by others humans or mutants. He doesn't view you as weak, but, he know how fleeting life is. He isn't the greatest at expressing his feelings, and notably his worry for you.

He will also be more protective than if he was with a mutant. And it show in him being at first very against you befriending any others x-men, he very much care for most of them and he loves you very much, but he doesn't want to have those two part of his life mix up. He doesn't want you to get in dangers because of his job, but he also doesn't want you to possibly endanger one of his mission, he wasn't capable of choosing between you and one of his mission. Not to say, you are as or more important than his mission, but he was responsibilities as a X-Men and he cannot forget about them. But that said, with enough asking and pleading, making him crack and let you meet his friends and fellow X-Men.

Talking about you interacting with mutants, Scott will not let any remarks about you - well not being one - slide. He knows and understand why his friends may feel wary of humans, he get it, but you are different. You are quite literally dating him - a mutant, it couldn't make any sense for you to be against them. Scott may let it slide the first time actually, but anymore than that, and he's making them do extra session in danger room - or they aren't allowed in it, depending on who.

In general, there isn't that much of a different between how he treat his mutant or non-mutant partner, he just will be more protective and worried for them. He doesn't feel particularly insecure in your relationship - because of his mutation or your lack of mutation.

Again, he doesn't have any problems with you not being a mutant - he more so has problem being a mutant, not in general of course, but in your relationship yes. Peter can't really give an answer as to why, but if he had to guess it was probably due to this father, and the fact that he didn't want to do anything like his father did, to you. The worst is, he know damn well he isn't anything like him but he can't help but think that way.

He feels like he's going to mess your relationship up, because of what he is. He try to play it off as if it was nothing, but it's a feeling that lingers in the back of his mind often. He never truly wished to be a regular human before, and he still doesn't, but he just want your relationship to be more normal. Which isn't really possible. Peter knows that, he also knows that you don't care, about that kind of thing.

He can mask his doubts and awful self-confidence with his quirky attitude, he can fool most people pretty easily - expect you. At some point, it get to point, where you have to sit down with Peter and try to have a conversation about it, at first he will just act dumb and pretend he doesn't get what you are talking about, but his facade cracks relatively fast.

You listen, his fears and doubts. You comfort him, and assure him, that everything is fine, you reassure him that weither your relationship is 'normal' or not it's the last of your problem. You love him, he loves you and that all that matter in your eyes.

Now, Kurt could be the one that has the most difficulty dating someone that is not a mutant. He could be scared to hurt you more than anything. He's stressing out about doing or saying the worst thing, that will just break everything. One of the reason why he is friend, with his friends is because they share at least one thing - they can all relate on one crucial part of their identity - them being mutant, it's one thing that link them all together and make it at least a little bit easier to connect. You lacking that, make it hard for him. He still loves you all the same of course, but he feels like not being able to share something so crucial is sad.

So he desperately try to make it up in some way, he looks everything he can about your interests to be able to share that with you, everytime you share something about your interests Kurt will make mental note of it. And he will share a lot about what interest him in return. If you speak an another language that he doesn't know, he'll try to learn it, after all what is better than learning the language of your lover! Kurt can even teach you some german if you want to!

He wants something to link the two of you together even more. It's something he heavily crave. To be linked to you, by more than just, your love for each others.

Kurt may feel insecure at time, that you may leave him for well, a regular human, that isn't blue, has five fingers on each hands - he will try to keep it to himself, but he isn't really good at that. His insecurity just overflow and he end up offhandedly asking you while you are hanging out, if you could prefer to be dating a human rather than him. Obviously, you tell him that you don't, and ask where did this idea came from. He feels reluctant to admit as to why he asked. He feels, ashamed ? After seeing your reaction, he feels a bit silly, and even more when you comfort him and tell him that you very much prefer and could always choose to date him more than anyone else just because they are human.

On a more happy note Kurt loves seeing how amazed you are by his mutation, you never really were around mutants before - there isn't actually a ton of opportunity to meet mutants and to know that they are mutants, even if antis mutant politicians like to make people believe the contrary - most humans he met, weren't exactly thrilled by his, but you are the exactly opposite. Even after being together for a while and getting used to his mutation, there is still this curiosity and shine in your eyes when he teleport for example.

He is by far, the most chill about your relationship and you not being a mutant while he is. Well, that is if we are talking about Hank, after he accepted his entire mutation and all, which we are, Hank pre-self acceptance is different deal.

But once, Hank is settled as a scientific and has member of the X-Men, and has fully accepted his mutation, he doesn't personally really care. But sadly, a lot of people seemingly do and that's one thing that annoy him. The worst is it come from both fellow mutants, even his friends and colleagues sometime! And from regular humans. He doesn't really get why people care about him dating a non-mutant or you dating him - a mutant.

He personally try to not let it get to him, and if it does he will do everything but make you suffer because of it. It most often will result in him shutting himself in his lab for a bit of time, to calm down.

And like others, he feels like he needs to protect you because, you are so ... weak in his eyes, not in a bad way of course ! But in comparison to him you are so small and fragile. This cause Hank to usually like putting his arms around you, around you waist or on your back, to show you that he is there, and to show people around that you are his, and that they shouldn't try to hurt you in anyway.

[regressionschool]

Trigger [an ABDL Hypnosis Story]

The café was comfortably lively, a gentle hum of voices and the occasional clink of silverware against ceramic filling the space. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, glinting off the water glasses, and the air smelled of fresh coffee and warm pastries.

Molly sat across from Dave, stirring cream into her coffee with small, absentminded motions. She had barely touched her croissant, only nibbling at the edges while her thoughts drifted. Dave, on the other hand, was cutting into a stack of pancakes with practiced ease, unfazed by the conversation unfolding between them.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Molly said, shaking her head slightly. “Like—Emma just… lets it happen?”

Dave chewed, swallowed, and lifted his coffee cup. “It’s not really ‘letting,’ though, is it? It’s what she wants.”

Molly made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “Does she? Or is it just what he wants?”

Dave arched a brow but didn’t respond immediately. He took another bite, letting the syrup soak into the pancakes before cutting another neat square. “She seems happy. I mean, she always said she wanted something different, right?”

Molly’s fingers tightened around her cup. “Different isn’t the same as being put back into—into toddlerhood. That’s not just a ‘different lifestyle,’ Dave. It’s… regressive.”

He shrugged. “And?”

“And—” Molly exhaled sharply, setting her spoon down a little too hard. “And I just don’t get how she could want that. Like, really want it. No responsibility? No autonomy? Just being put in—” she stopped, shaking her head. “It freaks me out.”

Dave took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. He didn’t argue, didn’t tell her she was overreacting. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he let the silence sit between them for a beat before saying, “I think it freaks you out because you can’t imagine wanting it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Molly frowned. “I didn’t say it was wrong. I said it was scary.”

Dave tilted his head slightly. “Same thing, in a way.”

Molly opened her mouth, then shut it again, glaring at her croissant like it had personally offended her. She didn’t like that—when Dave did that thing where he made a point without actually making one. It left her feeling unsteady, like she had to defend herself when she wasn’t even sure what she was defending.

She pushed her plate away slightly, leaning back in her chair. “I just keep thinking about it. Like, if that can happen to Emma, could it happen to anyone? What’s the… trigger?”

Dave chuckled, shaking his head. “Molly, you say that like it’s a virus or something.”

“Well, isn’t it?” she shot back. “One day, she was just our friend Emma, and now she’s…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “She’s in nappies, Dave. Full-time. And not just that, but he makes the choices now. What she eats, what she wears, when she sleeps.”

Dave tapped his fork against his plate thoughtfully. “She let him.”

“That’s what scares me,” Molly admitted. Her voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That she let him. And she’s fine with it. More than fine. She’s… content.”

“Would it be different if she wasn’t?”

Molly blinked. “What?”

“If she was miserable,” Dave said. “If she hated it. Would you feel better?”

She scowled. “That’s not the point.”

“I think it might be,” he said, and for the first time, there was something pointed in his tone. “If she hated it, you could see it as something being done to her. But she doesn’t. So instead, you have to deal with the fact that she chose it. And that makes you uncomfortable.”

Molly crossed her arms, looking away. “It should make you uncomfortable too.”

Dave sighed and set his fork down. “I don’t know, Mol. Maybe I just don’t care as much as you do. It’s weird, yeah. But people do weird things all the time. If it makes her happy, why should it matter?”

Molly shook her head, staring out the window. Outside, people walked by with shopping bags, strollers, coffee cups in hand. Just… normal people. People who weren’t Emma.

She could almost see her in her mind—Emma, giggling, dressed in something soft and pastel, clutching a stuffed animal. Not a woman anymore. Not in the way she used to be.

Dave studied Molly for a long moment, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his coffee cup. The tension in her shoulders, the hard set of her jaw—it was all so familiar. The same reaction he’d seen before, whenever Emma came up in conversation.

He sighed. “You know, it’s funny.”

Molly frowned. “What is?”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping just a fraction. “You keep talking like you don’t understand. But I think, deep down, you do.”

She scoffed, opening her mouth to retort, but Dave cut her off with a single phrase, low and deliberate:

“Little minds don’t worry.”

Molly’s breath caught. For a second, nothing happened—just a flicker in her expression, a slight widening of her eyes. Then, like a ripple spreading across the surface of a pond, something shifted.

Her lips parted, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her fingers, which had been tense around her coffee cup, suddenly slackened, as if the very concept of holding it had become too complex. She blinked rapidly, her gaze unfocused.

“Wh—” Her voice came out small, uncertain. She shook her head, strands of hair falling into her face. “Whazza…?��

Dave sat back, watching as it unfolded.

Molly’s posture sagged, her body language morphing from sharp and guarded to something looser, more instinctual. The weight of her own thoughts—thoughts that had moments ago felt so heavy, so complicated—seemed to vanish.

Her expression flickered through confusion, then something closer to frustration. “S’fuzzy,” she mumbled, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. “Don’—I don’ get… um…”

Her tongue tripped over her own words. Concepts unraveled like loose threads, slipping through her grasp. Even the sentence she’d just started—what was it supposed to be? What was she even trying to say?

Her eyes darted to Dave, wide and almost pleading.

“Davey,” she whimpered.

He hummed. “Yeah, Mols?”

“F’eels weird,” she murmured, shifting in her seat. “Dunno—s’diff’ent. Ev’rything all… ‘spicy’.”

Dave tilted his head, amused. “Spicy?”

Molly pouted, frustrated by the word she couldn’t quite find. “Mmmm, not spicy, but—y’know! All wiggly ‘n’ tingly ‘n’ funny.”

As if on cue, she let out a sharp gasp, her hands darting down to her lap. A slow warmth spread beneath her, soaking into the fabric of her jeans, pooling against the seat.

Molly let out a breathy little whimper as the last remnants of adult thought crumbled. “Uh-oh…”

A dark patch spread beneath her, creeping outward, the undeniable hiss of her accident filling the air.

Dave chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “That’s okay, kiddo,” he said lightly. “Little girls don’t worry ‘bout things like that, remember?”

Molly blinked up at him, her bottom lip wobbling, the lingering ghost of something wrong flickering across her features before fading into soft, placid contentment.

She wasn’t an adult anymore.

She wasn’t supposed to worry.

She didn’t worry.

Dave sighed, shaking his head with a good-natured chuckle as he glanced toward the café staff. A few nearby patrons had already started whispering, their eyes darting toward the growing puddle beneath Molly’s chair. He caught the eye of a barista, offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about this," he said smoothly, his tone warm but firm, the way a responsible caretaker would explain a toddler's accident. "She’s still getting the hang of things."

The barista, a young woman with tired eyes and a sympathetic expression, only nodded. "Don’t worry about it," she murmured, though her gaze flicked toward Molly, who was now squirming in her seat, fascinated by the way the damp fabric clung to her legs.

Dave turned his attention back to her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "Alright, Mols," he said gently, slipping into the comforting role she now expected of him. "Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?"

Molly only giggled, tilting her head up at him with big, unfocused eyes. "Mmmkay, Daddy," she lilted, the title slipping past her lips effortlessly, as if it had always been that way.

Dave’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but he didn't linger on it. Instead, he rose, moving around the table and helping Molly up. Her legs wobbled slightly, unsteady now that her adult coordination had slipped away.

As she stood, the full extent of her accident became clear. Her jeans were soaked, clinging to her thighs, the damp material darkened almost entirely down to her ankles. She looked down, blinking slowly at the mess, but there was no shame in her expression—only mild curiosity.

She poked a tiny finger against the wet denim. "Squishy," she declared with a giggle.

Dave grinned, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, kiddo. And that’s why we wear proper protection, huh?"

Molly giggled again, her gaze unfocused and dreamy. "Mmhmm!"

Dave led her toward the back of the café, past the staff-only sign. No one stopped them. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so confident, so sure of his authority over her. Maybe it was the way Molly so clearly wasn’t in charge of herself anymore, her small hand tucked securely into his, her posture loose and trusting.

Inside the staff restroom, a sight that would have mortified Molly just minutes ago now greeted her without a flicker of concern—

An adult-sized changing table.

Dave patted the cushioned surface. "Up you go, kiddo."

Molly obediently reached her arms up, letting him lift her onto the table without a second thought. She kicked her legs idly, her soaked jeans sticking to her skin, a little pout forming on her lips.

"Wan’ dry," she mumbled.

Dave chuckled. "That’s the plan, sweetheart."

With practiced ease, he peeled away her jeans, the damp fabric clinging for a moment before slipping free. He balled them up and set them aside, then made quick work of her sodden panties. Molly didn’t react, other than giggling as the cool air hit her bare skin.

She squirmed as he wiped her down with a warm cloth, but it wasn’t from discomfort—it was the way a toddler would squirm from tickles rather than modesty.

Then, he pulled out the final piece.

A puffy, pastel-colored Pampers—one big enough for her, decorated in soft patterns that made it impossible to mistake for anything grown-up.

Molly’s eyes widened, but not with the resistance she might have once had. No, this time, it was delight.

"Ooooooh!" she cooed, her fingers twitching eagerly.

Dave smirked. "Like it, baby?"

Molly nodded enthusiastically, reaching out to poke at the plastic shell as he unfolded it. "Is crinkly!" she giggled.

He lifted her legs effortlessly, sliding the padding beneath her before securing the tapes snugly at her waist. The thick bulk forced her legs apart slightly, and when he patted the front, she let out a soft, happy hum, wiggling against the plush comfort.

"There we go," Dave murmured, smoothing her shirt down over the top of her new, much more appropriate underwear. "All fresh."

Molly beamed up at him, wiggling her toes as she enthusiastically poked at the front of her new padding, fascinated by the way it crinkled under her touch.

"Dis is way better!" she declared, giggling as she gave the front a few experimental pats.

Dave laughed. "I thought you’d see it that way, princess."

Then, he picked up her jeans, inspecting the soaked fabric with a smirk. "Well, kiddo, looks like you’ll have to go without these for a bit."

Molly didn’t even blink.

If anything, she giggled, swinging her bare legs with delight.

The Molly from before—the one who had argued, who had frowned and questioned—was nowhere to be found.

She was just Mols now. A little girl in nothing but a crinkly diaper and her soft shirt, giggling as she prodded at the thick bulk between her legs.

[jinwoosungs]

01/20/25; 07:11pm

vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the five times you realized she has always loved you.

you couldn’t find the right term to describe your relationship with violet.

from an outsider’s perspective, they would simply label you as two girls who were the best of friends. sure, there were times where vi got a little too overprotective when it came to shielding you from your shitty exes-

but that’s what friends were supposed to do, right?

yet deep down, there was something nagging at the back of your mind. when you found out dirk was cheating on you, vi had made it her personal mission to beat the ever living shit out of him before proceeding to erase his contact information from your phone. she had no intention of telling you what she had done, but seeing dirk kneeling in front of your apartment door the very next day while begging you to keep vi away from him was more than enough proof that your best friend had willingly defended you.

the memory of it all was enough to cause a surge of heat to course through you. as you look down at your coffee, you couldn’t help but search through your memories, thinking back on specific moments where vi seemed to be there for you when you needed her the most…

i. becoming your roommate to help with paying the rent.

when you texted vi, telling her about the emergency you were facing the moment your roommate moved out, she had appeared at your place in just a few minutes. as evident from the sweat that ran down her forehead, it was clear that she had rushed over to you during your time of need.

with an apologetic expression on your face, you offer her a bottle of water and sit next to her on the couch. “any idea why your roomie moved?”

“she had a new job offer, and it’s located an hour away. i would have been more okay with the move had she at least paid her half of the rent for this month.” you sigh while twirling at the ends of your hair, listening to vi take a swig of her bottle before telling you, “how about i move in with you instead?”

vi’s casual question makes you do a double take, meeting her gaze with your wide eyes, “but… aren’t you living with your sister right now?”

she shrugs while taking another drink, “we’ve both got steady incomes, and she can take care of herself. in fact, i have a feeling she’s counting down the days where she can have the place all to herself.”

“b-but-“

setting aside the now emptied bottle of water, vi places a fingertip against your lips, “hush, cupcake. let me do this for you so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing. i’ll be completely moved in by next week, and you don’t have to worry about running behind on rent.”

a surge of hope courses through you, and you felt each and every one of your worries melt away amidst vi’s grin. unable to hold back your joy any longer, you toss your arms around her neck, nuzzling against her soft, magenta locks of hair, “oh vi, you’re the best! i love you so much!”

you felt the way your best friend suddenly stiffens from within your embrace, causing you to furrow your eyebrows slightly before relaxing when vi lets out an exhale.

“i love you, too.”

you wouldn’t realize the depths of her response until much later.

ii. staying by your side when you suffered from a bad fever.

there was something wrong with you.

your body felt too hot-

your stomach too nauseated as you could barely hold down the sips of water you had taken throughout the night. as you lay shivering and aching in bed, you had barely gotten a wink of sleep when night slowly morphs into the morning.

vi was already active, hearing her footsteps around the kitchen as she brewed her morning coffee. along with the coffee came the sounds of sizzling bacon as the scents of vi cooking breakfast made your stomach churn in response. you swallow thickly, trying to fight back the urge to vomit as you remain curled up in bed.

after what felt like an eternity, you heard gentle knocks coming from your door before vi reveals herself. “hey sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

you only manage a whimper in response, causing vi to take quick strides into your room. tossing back your comforter, she sees you huddled up in a fetal position, your face appearing damp with sweat as your bleary eyes met with her gaze.

she lets out a gasp of your name, kneeling beside you on your bed, “damn, you’re burning up with a fever. hang on-“

yet you stop her from leaving, taking comfort in her presence and the scent of her shampoo (the scent of lavender), “don’t leave… need… you…”

her blue eyes were filled with uncertainty, brimming with concern, yet you didn’t relent. “please… i couldn’t sleep last night because… i felt so shitty… and you feel so warm.”

in the end, she caves in to your exhausted demands, laying down next to you while wrapping her arms around your waist. she allows you to hide your face within the curve of her neck, basking in your soft breaths while running a hand through your damp hair, “you need to take some medicine… and eat something, you know that right.”

you hum, burying your face against her shoulder, “hmph… later… sleep… first…”

and with you clinging to her, you were blissfully unaware of how much her heart was racing from your close proximity.

iii. spending late nights with you during your days off.

when you told vi how you were eager to spend your day off with her, your best friend joins you in your happiness. with your favorite takeout already ordered, you settle back on the couch with her, trading the boxes of food with her with little regard to sharing your utensils with her.

with a series of your favorite movies playing on the screen, you bask in the way vi makes jokes with each scene, earning a series of giggles from you in between your bites of food. as the hours ticked by, you cuddle next to vi on the couch, sharing your blanket with her while basking in her warmth.

while you sit next to her, you felt a strange warmth within your chest, your attention slowly waning from the movie that was playing as you found yourself sneaking glances at her.

her blue eyes were focused on the screen, and you allowed your gaze to trace at the fullness of her lips while admiring the freckles that dotted against her cheeks along with the tattoo of her name. your hand itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her-

to frame at her face while your lips descended upon her in a sweet kiss-

yet you quickly banish those intrusive thoughts, slightly moving away from her on the couch. you cough the moment vi looked back at you, seeing her eyebrows raised in question at your sudden shift.

but instead of calling you out on it, vi places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back to her before returning her gaze toward the screen.

she never once removed her hand from your shoulder for the rest of the night.

iv. buying a gorgeous necklace for your birthday.

after gorging yourself on a delicious dinner and some cake, vi pours you a glass of your favorite champagne as you both celebrated another year well spent.

“you’re finally twenty two, how are you feeling, cupcake?”

you roll your eyes at her nickname for you, taking sips of your champagne with a smile on your face. “i can’t complain. but i gotta say, it’s much better to share my special day with my bestie.”

a flash of something was seen in violet’s eyes, yet just as soon as it appears, it was replaced with a carefree expression. vi smirks at you, running a hand through her hair while rolling her eyes, “well, i can’t complain about spending the day with you, either.”

she tells you with a hum before setting her champagne glass off to the side. while you distracted yourself with finishing off your champagne, you were unaware of how violet had one more surprise for you.

you met her gaze when she calls your name, and you face forward to see a neatly wrapped present settled within the palm of her hand. “wha- vi, you didn’t need to get anything for me.”

“i know, but i wanted to.” she tells you with a shrug, handing you the present. your throat clogs up with emotion as you carefully tore open the gold wrapping, unraveling the silver ribbon as you revealed a velvet box. opening the box, you gasp at the sight of the gorgeously crafted necklace settled within the cushion.

it’s rose gold chain held a pendent that was of a rose made entirely of a pink tourmaline gemstone. the brilliant hue reminds you of violet’s startling hair as your hands trembled while picking it up. you were at a loss for words when you silently held the necklace out to vi, beckoning her to help you put it on.

with a tiny smile gracing her features, she takes the necklace and scoots closer to you on the couch. your back was facing her, and you remain still when she moves your hair away. you sensed a bit of hesitancy from her, only to stiffen slightly at the sensation of something soft pressing against the back of your neck.

yet as quickly as the sensation appeared, it was gone within an instant, replaced with the feeling of a slender chain surrounding your neck before being clasped into place.

“happy birthday.” you felt vi whisper within your ear, setting your heart aflame as you found yourself slowly falling for your best friend…

{ … }

you gasp when you felt vi ruffling at your hair, breaking you out of your reveries as she steps into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “hey, what are you spacing out for?”

you swallow thickly, staring at vi and how she was dressed in a sports bra with a loose pair of sweats. your heart begins to pound at the mere sight of her, and your hands now ached with a desire to run through her hair as she kissed you senseless-

“i love you.” you suddenly blurt out to her without meaning to, feeling the heat against your cheeks when she tilts her head back at you. taking a sip of her coffee, vi sits across from you while giving you a grin. “i love you, too.”

“n-no, that’s not it. i-“ you were trembling now, “i mean i love you, what i feel for you is something more than mere friendship. a-and i realize that you’ve always loved me, too.”

vi’s true blue eyes go wide for a brief moment before she shoves her cup of coffee to the side, the dark liquid spilling against your shared dining room when she takes quick strides toward you.

you let out a gasp when she picks you up, crushing your body to hers, “it’s about damn time, cupcake.”

her hands were wrapped tightly around your waist as she carries you effortlessly back into her bedroom, slamming her door shut before laying you back against her bed. no words were spoken when vi surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

you moan the moment vi gently sweeps her tongue within your mouth, tasting you fully while allowing her hands to descend upon your oversized shirt. she lifts the large fabric from your body, tossing it aside as you were left with your breasts bare for her. with only a flimsy pair of panties covering your center, vi shudders while hovering over you. “you’re so damn pretty and perfect, princess. i’ve loved you ever since the day i first met you.”

your breathing hitches when you felt vi dip her hand between your legs, traveling within the waistband of your panties to trace at your slick heat. “i was so hopelessly in love with you that i tricked myself into believing that your friendship was enough- but it’s not enough anymore.”

in the midst of her confession, you feel her fingers sliding into your aching core, gasping when she pumps them in and out of you. the squelching sounds of your walls eagerly taking in her gentle ministrations echo throughout the room. “v-vi, oh my god, vi!”

“do you know what you just did, princess? now, i’ll never be able to leave you. you belong to me as much as i belong to you now… and nothing will ever change that.”

she sighs, removing her fingers from your soaked cunt, admiring the shiny quality of them before licking off the evidence of your arousal. she makes a show of cleaning her fingertips, causing you to press your legs together when you felt your walls clench painfully at the sight.

“you taste so fucking good, princess.” letting out a sigh of your name, vi spreads your legs, hands gripping at your panties before taking them off of you. once you were left bare for her, vi settles herself between your thighs with her lips engulfed over the entirety of your center.

your back arches against the bed, with you crying out to her as your hands delver themselves into her hair. she devours you like a woman starved, drinking everything you had to offer while introducing a finger within your slick heat. your back arches against the bed as you grind yourself on her face, losing all of your senses each time she gently pinches down at your swollen clit.

minutes later, you release yourself into her awaiting mouth, feeling her low moans send pleasurable vibrations across your body. “mmm, my sweet little cupcake…”

vi’s sultry voice sends shivers down your spine, with your mind going hazy. you became dimly aware of how she sheds off the rest of her clothes, not stopping until she remains just as bare as you before wrapping her legs around your own. the sensation of her swollen clit rubbing against yours makes you toss your head back in response, allowing vi to pin you against the bed as she finally acted on her desires for you.

and as you built on each other’s pleasure, you knew that your respective feelings had always been requited within this very moment.

end notes: an unedited fluff / thirst post pertaining to vi. i understand how hot she is, i truly do 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[hirsheyskisses]

When You're Sober.

RORONOA ZORO x READER (short)

Summary: Being Roronoa's childhood friend, he's declared for the world to hear how one day, he's going to make you his wife. As adults, you had assumed he moved on, but as it stands..

A/N: I've had this in my head for AHH so long. So I'm writing it before I go back to requests 🤣

"..are you going to stay this time?"

Child Zoro questioned you. You sighed softly, seeing the tears pricking at his eyes pulled your heart strings in ways the young swordsman couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kuina's funeral had just ended, and Zoro had immediately sought you out. You were a slightly older swordsman pupil, by 2 years to be exact, and Zoro had latched onto you recently, with Kuina jokingly teasing you of how much he liked you. Sure, 11 and 13 weren't too big, but to a kid, it was all the difference. Still though, you couldn't help but care for him.

"..no. I'll be staying at the dojo." You replied, watching him smile, just a bit. You were both still sad after Kuina's death, and you weren't about to leave the mossball all on his lonesome- and you'd grown to like this dojo, as had your father. You were certain you could convince him to stay, rather than travel to another.

"Good! 'Cause I'm gonna marry you one day, so I can't have you leaving!" Zoro declared tearfully, through his shit eating grin, and you quickly angled your head away and growled, "we're not getting married!"

It didn't matter how many times you defended yourself, he wouldn't let up. If flustered and enraged you to no end. No matter how many battles you raged against him, no matter how many times you had him panting and defeated, holding your wooden sword to his throat, no, none of it scared Zoro.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, (Name)!"

Sometimes, Zoro would even sneak into your bed. You realized they were mostly driven by nightmares. You'd hear him slowly open the door, sniffling from tears, and walk over to you. He'd prod your side before diving under the covers with you, snuggling as close to your side as possible. "I know.. you're awake." He'd mumble, wrapping his arms around you. You'd give in, wrapping one around him. "Yeah. Hard not to when ya sneak into my bed." Zoro snuggled a bit closer. "Wanna be close. That's all." You knew it was more. He trusted you. He even began to tell you about the nightmares, and despite yourself, You'd comfort him. Hold him until he fell asleep.

It grew increasingly difficult for you to be mad at him, especially not seeing as it had become almost a game- plus his wholesome and innocent smile was so damn adorable. You figured he'd grow out of it eventually, popping out of nowhere to declare his undying love. Until then, you grew accustomed to him popping out of closets, around trees and doors, and through windows and met his confessions through the clashes of your blades.

As it turns out, Zoro did grow out of it. The two of you had long since left the dojo together, became bounty hunters, and then became pirates on Luffy's crew. Around 16, and you being 18 is when Zoro had began to stop asking, the questions growing less and less often until they had halted altogether, his mind set on fulfilling his promise to Kuina, to become the world's strongest and carry his name to the heavens, where yours was to find the world's wonders, and the blades of your dreams. In fact, the last time he'd done so..

..Zoro had grown. He knew that, you knew that. He'd never let you live down that you're shorter than him, much to your dismay. You both had barely left the dojo, and Zoro had decided the first thing he wanted to do was drink for the first time. So that's what he did. You chose to stay sober, just in case.

What you hasn't anticipated was just how clingy he'd get when he was wasted.

"Hey.." you were leading him back to the hotel, when without any warning, he'd pulled you into an alley and pushed you gently against the wall. Zoro stared intently into your eyes and pressed himself a bit closer, you could smell the alcohol from his breath. "Fuckin- Zoro! What're ya doin?!"

"So cute.." he'd lean in and smell your hair, his earrings glinting in the moonlight, arms keeping you caged against the wall. "I've waited.. s'long. M' even of age now."

He pulled back a bit, towering over you, and you could feel yourself becoming a furious, blushing mess. Zoro himself was flushed, panting softly, lips parted ever so slightly.

"Wanna marry ya. Wanna marry ya s'bad.."

He slurred, and you flushed a deeper shade of red. His hand reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you were frozen for a long moment. Until you finally came back to your senses.

Shoving his face away, you grabbed his arm and began storming to the hotel,

"Stupid mossball! Ask me again when you're sober!"

He never did.

Sometimes you missed it, how close you and Zoro used to be. Sure, you still had complete trust in one another, and always had each other's backs in battle, but it was as though you'd both spoken so much, that you no longer spoke. You'd still train, sometimes even nap in the others presence, but words had become rarer, instead communicating through looks more often than not, quick and brief. You were beginning to miss his voice.

"(Nameeeeeee).. hey. 'chu doin' all alone?"

Speaking of Zoro- he'd joined you on the rail of the Sunny. On the beach, the rest of the straw hats were celebrating with the locals, and said locals had given Zoro an alcohol like no other. Zoro, believing his tolerance was high enough to take it, decided to drink it during a drinking contest. For the first time in a long while, he was wasted. Again.

"Relaxing. It was quite the battle today." You responded, smiling at the swordsman. His swords rested at his side, and your two rested st your side.

"It was.. f'sure." Zoro agreed, leaning against the railing, "you handled yerself good out there." He placed a hand at the small of your back, smiling at you. "Saw the new technique.. should use it against me sometime."

You awkwardly moved away from his hand, laughing softly. "Yeah, sure, when you're sober." His smile fell ever so slightly, and you tilted your head in confusion. "Ya good there, Zoro?"

"No. I'm not."

He responded, and with little warning, he had you in his arms, practically squishing you against him in a fiercsome hug. "Ack! Zoro! Can't breathe!" You yelped, laughing breathily as you struggled to escape his wrath, deciding to worry about him after you could breathe again.

"....why ya talk ta Sanji s'much?"

Zoro growled, loosening his grip and grabbing you by your shoulders, suddenly pushing you away but still holding you, at arms length. "HAH? Fuck you mean?" "It means.. exactly what I'm askin'. You even ditched training the other day.. ta' talk to that damn cook. Why?" He sounded hurt, and you grew even more confused. "'Cause he's my friend? Plus, I've been taking some cooking lessons from him to help out." Zoro scowled, clenching his teeth and flat glaring at you. His grip was tightening to the point it hurt, and you tried not to wince, instead meeting his glare with one of your own. "What's your problem, Roronoa?! They put angry juice in your damn booze?" You placed emphasis on his last name, which only caused his grip to tighten more. You watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words to say.

"My problem is, is I wanna fuckin' marry ya, and seein ya with that damn cook pisses me off."

His voice was low, and he loosened his grip, instead opting to massage your shoulders. Yet again, you'd frozen, watching Zoro's glare turn into a pout as he dropped his head.

"I know I know.. ya dont feel the same.. but.. damn it, atleast choose someone better than him."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You'd never seen Zoro look so defeated, watching him turn his head away. He hasn't given up, but he was about to. Your heart shattered in more ways than one. As his hands dropped from your shoulders, you knew one thing: it was now or never.. but what if these were just..

You reached out and grabbed his hand, staring at the ground. You couldn't look at him- not when he looked like a kicked puppy. "Zoro.."

"...yea?"

"Ask me again. When you're sober. I'll answer you."

Then, you jumped over the edge of the ship, landing on the beach, and ran to join the others, face beet red and guilt boiling deep in your gut.

He didn't. The next day you both went on as if nothing happened. However, after breakfast, Zoro vanished off the ship, alongside Nami. You'd decided to think nothing of it, however, part of you wished, so badly, that you'd just told him. But you had also decided that if Zoro couldn't tell you when he was sober, then it just wouldn't work.

I've loved him for years.. I thought he'd forgotten. God.. I wish I could turn back time, and accept him. I'm a fool.

"(Name)-chan? You're looking gloomy. That damn Marimo do something to you?! I swear I'll-"

Sanji had approached you, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Its.. just a childhood subject came up. It's touchy." You responded, finally removing your gaze from the table to meet his gaze. Sanji sat across from you, "Wanna talk about it?"

"...not sure what good it'll do." You huffed, fidgeting with your hands. For a long moment, Sanji was silent. Which was odd, seeing as he was usually swooning over you, or whisking you away to teach you a new cooking technique.

"..things will work out between you two. Don't worry. He may be a lumbering fool, but he isn't a total idiot." Sanji said, a twinkle in his eyes. You glanced at him, "whatddya mean by that?" "I mean exactly what I said, darling."

You spent the rest of the day wondering what Sanji could've possibly meant. Working around the ship and making sure everything was ready to set sail in the morning, Chopper dancing around your feet as he helped and rambled about medical knowledge.

As time rolled around for dinner, you were moving to the kitchen with the others, laughing with Usopp at Luffy's antics, when all of a sudden,

"(NAME)! hol.. hold on." Zoro came running up behind you, with something held in his hands. Nami wasn't far behind, but she maneuvered around the two of you to stand with the others.

"Fuck.. never doin that again." He grumbled, dropping to one knee and staring up at you, chest heaving, as he pulled out a small box.

"..zoro?-"

"You.. you told me to ask again when I'm sober. So I am."

"Marry me."

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful black and gold ring. You froze, staring at it, and then at the swordsman, who was staring up at you, just as still as you.

He..

"...fuckin' hell Zoro. Yes, I'll marry you."

The grin that erupted on Zoro's face was beautiful as tears spilled from your eye, and your crewmates cheered behind you both as Zoro pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring on your finger.

"SUPPPPER! finally!" "Yohohohoho! I should play some music!" "Damn marimo.. You'd better take care of her!" Their congratulations fell on deaf ears as Zoro held you, burying his face into your shoulder. The growing wet feeling on your shoulder told you one thing: he was crying, too.

"..I love you. So much.. please, stay at my side for the rest of eternity." He whispered, voice raspy, and you melted into his hold,

"Always, and forever. I've always been yours, Zoro."

[kingkaisen]

BREAK UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND!

➙ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo x fem!reader

➙ 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: gojo truly hates your stupid fucking boyfriend.

➙ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI - smut {masturbation mention, oral f!receiving} cheating, mention of drinking, nicknames: good girl, sweetheart, baby.

Gojo told every single one of his friends the exact same thing: “She’ll be mine one day, just you wait and see.”

He even shouted it out in the middle of a friendly gathering while your boyfriend was around. Afterwards, he slung an arm around your shoulder and took a sip of his drink as he stared your man right in the eye.

Gojo knew that your man wouldn’t and couldn’t do a damn thing. He was pathetic; unworthy of being with someone as wonderful as you. And, in Gojo’s eyes, that gave him the right to snatch you up.

It was cute, though. The way you tried to stammer out a small “I-I have a boyfriend” whenever Gojo whispered filthy things in your ear, detailing all the things he’d like to do to you if you gave him the chance.

“When was the last time a man made you feel good?” He once asked, looking down at you with an amused grin.

Your silence was the only answer he needed.

Your own boyfriend couldn’t make you finish, and didn’t even care about the fact that you’d have to pull out your purple vibrator after having unsatisfying sex with him.

And as you spent your nights trying to get yourself off, Gojo did the same thing in the privacy of his bedroom, stroking his hard, dripping cock as he daydreamed about fucking you. The thought of it always made pearly ropes of cum decorate his fist and lower abdomen.

Even so, you stayed strong. Defended your boyfriend and ignored Gojo. And, even though you rejected him, Gojo couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that you were obviously such a good girl.

Your boyfriend was lucky as hell.

That was the reason why Gojo almost caused a car wreck when you called him in the middle of the night, your voice shaky as you were on the verge of tears, as you told him that you came home to discover your boyfriend in bed with another woman.

Part of him was happy to hear the news. Another part of him was devastated on your behalf. Half of him wanted to race to your house and comfort you. The other half of him wanted to track down your brand new ex and beat the hell out of him.

So, Gojo settled for appearing at his mom’s house. He knew he’d be there since you kicked him out. He knew your ex all too well.

He didn’t want to upset the bastard’s mother, so Gojo settled for slashing his tires and leaving a little note on his windshield, threatening him for what he did to you.

Then, he made his way to your house.

You were both sitting on your couch as you cried your eyes out, Gojo rubbing your shoulder as he listened to you vent.

“Hey,” he interrupted softly. “Let me make you feel better.”

You looked up at Gojo with the saddest, prettiest eyes, and — god, he couldn’t help but kiss you.

Your lips were so soft and buttery from crying, and he couldn’t help but moan into the kiss.

“Gojo,” you mumbled against his lips, “how could you make me feel better?”

“Let me eat you out,” Gojo said. “You don’t have to do anything except lay back and take it. I wanna give you what you deserve and make you feel good, sweetheart.”

That was all it took. Soon enough, you were on your back, and he was dragging his long fingers up and down your wet cunt. Although he wanted to take his time with you, he was too excited to wait.

The second Gojo tasted you, he moaned, his eyes fluttering closed because you tasted that delicious. He had to force himself to open his eyes, because he’ll be damned if he missed the sight of your cute facial expressions.

He just wanted to make you feel good. That’s it. Even so, he was enjoying it just as much as you, and he couldn’t help but grind his hips against the couch to try and give his aching cock some sort of relief.

“You taste amazing, baby. Who do you think you are? Keeping this pussy away from me?” Gojo slowly pushed two fingers inside of you, curling them just right.

When he rapidly licked at your clit, you clenched around his fingers, and he nearly died inside. It made him pump in and out of you even faster, because if anyone deserved to cum, it was you.

That wet tongue of his danced around your clit. Your fingers were in his hair, and you moaned his name so sinfully.

“Gojo…” you whined.

“You wanna cum right in my mouth, don’t you, baby?” Gojo mumbled against your clit, giving it a lick — one that made you shiver — before he spoke again. “Be a good girl and cum for me. I gotta taste it. I have to.”

He did it all. He licked and sucked at your clit like it was his favorite meal. The expert level curve of his fingers made you toss your head back, and as you started to squirm, he reached his arm up across your body to hold you still and play with your nipple, his finger flicking at your hard button.

With a couple more messy slurps, you finally came. Gojo was certain that he was going to cum in his own pants, completely untouched, as he swallowed down as much of your juices as he could.

“That was nasty, Gojo,” you mumbled, and he gave a small chuckle, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them off.

“You clearly haven’t tasted yourself,” Gojo hummed. “If you knew what you tasted like, you’d understand. Come here.”

You leaned forward, and Gojo gripped the back of your neck. He kissed you deeply, swirling his tongue around yours, letting you taste yourself.

“See?” He smiled against your lips. “Let me do it again.”

Before you could properly formulate a response, Gojo was already lowering his head in between your legs, getting ready to taste the pussy that your ex could no longer have.

However, your ex could have the video of you being eaten out by someone who could make you cum over and over again, and with your approval, Gojo kindly sent the video to him.

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

♡ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[rowretro]

𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕪

𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙍𝙄𝙆𝙄 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙐 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𓆩♡𓆪 ☽⋆˚｡⋆˚.

✰warnings: yandere themes, kissing, making out ish, a lot of fluff after they makeup<3

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Why would y/n care if the man who hurt her, kidnapped her, forced her to live with him in his home to go see other women? she hates him after all doesn't she? she wishes she does, but she just can't. He's so sweet to her despite the fact he abducted her purely because he loves her, he stopped his obsessive killing of men who even look in her direction, and now he even trusts her enough to leave, just the bedroom door unlocked. He literally killed for her, of course he'd die for her.

Y/n hates that she thinks he'd do such a thing, she received a picture from a friend on her snap, of Riki walking alongside another woman. They looked so close... she was flirtatious with him, arm around his shoulders, and he smiled at her. The woman being someone she loathed, a bitch who has beaten many girls almost to death, and tried to use y/ns personal life against her. Basically a bitch. To say she was mad was an understatement. The man who abducted her, killed for her, and treated her like a princess, forcing her to be his is with another fucking woman?!

She flinched a little as the door suddenly shut, interrupting her out of her thoughts. "baby im home~" he called. Y/n glared at the wall, waiting for him to enter the bedroom. "Why didn't you come to the door pretty girl?" he asked as Y/n frowned. "Am i pretty girl? or is she?!" y/n asked, as Riki sat opposite her on their bed. "who exactly is her?" he asked, a little confused "the side-chick that had her grubby hands all over you. im sorry, you drag me here claiming that you love me, killed a classmate that confessed to me, and used his many crimes as an excuse, only for you to cheat with a basic bitch who does nothing but whores around spending mommy's money and using daddy's name to defend her crimes?!" she lets out, clearly upset.

However riki just smiled, his eyes staring at her endearingly "my sweetheart is jealous~" he cooed as he tried to reach for her, mad y/n slapped his hands away. "ok ok cool cool... that bitch has been getting on my nerves lately... she filmed you getting dressed so I had to play the part to show her her place... don't worry I haven't killed her... yet..." he smirks, turning on the news. There she was, the girl's photo, somewhat blurred, being exposed for her many offences that she coverred up. "As for the video, deleted forever..." he added as y/n just sat there, unsure of what to do.

A few hours of silence pass, Riki was watching TV, as y/n finished up a few tiny chores. Seeing him, she heaved a quiet sigh, and slipped in the seat beside him. "Im cold" she said staring at him as he looked her up and down "Of course you are, it's autumn and you're wearing a thin-strapped croptop- and the material of those jeans are way too thin." he complained as Y/n frowned. "I said Im cold!" she whined as Riki snickerred. "you have to pay me first." he said as she bit her lip.

She leaned in, catching his soft, plush, perfect lips in a loving kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist, as they let their tongues collide, one of his hands rested at her head, as she placed her arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss as much as she could. As she pulls away, she leaves a few soft kisses down his jawline to his neck, and sinks into his warm embrace. "Dont you dare cheat on me... I'll cry." She mumbled as she snuggled against him. "God you must think im insane if im ever willing enough to cheat on you. do you know how long ive waited for you?!" Riki asked.

He unzipped his hoodie, wrapping it around her a little, as he yanked a soft blanket to wrap around them "What do you wanna watch?" he asked "I know i've watched it a lot but... Let's watch so not worth it and order some nice food hmm?" Y/n suggests as he kisses her nose "Anything for you my lifeline~" he smiled, pulling out his phone to order food.

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀⋆୨୧⋆❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

a/n: yeah i don't even know about this... hope u enjoyed it tho<3

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 04

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 8,5k

a/n: soo this took me forever but i hope there's still people that will enjoy this!! <3 this chapter picks up right where the previous one left off.

“For someone who claimed to want to talk, you’re not saying a whole lot.”

In the dim parking lot light, Hyunjin stares down at you with curiosity, arms crossed over his broad chest like a shield. You’re a few feet away from the car, and not as close as before, but somehow, you finally notice all of these fine details about him. There’s a faint bruise above his eye, the culprit, his silver eyebrow piercing shining with pride when the light hits it just right. His roots are growing in, pitch black and healthy, fighting against the bleach with all of their might. Muscle tape soothes the back of his neck, obscured by the long hair that serves as a curtain between him and the nosy world. The people who were just as nosy as you were currently being.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you hug yourself to keep warm before opening your mouth, eyes downcast. “Are you alright?”

Surprise flashes across his features, and you catch it just in time because the moment you raise your gaze, it’s gone.

“Look at me as you’re thinking of your next answer.”

He doesn’t, not even bothering to pretend he acknowledged what you just said.

“I’m fine.” Hyunjin sighs, letting his head fall back briefly like he needed to pull himself together to have this conversation. “As a matter of fact, I’m great! Never felt better!”

You can tell he’s lying from a mile away. Because while his words say one thing, his body language and everything else about him tell a different story. He doesn’t rest all his weight on both feet, crossing them at the ankles for better balance. If standing hurt this much, you couldn’t begin to imagine how executing one of his difficult choreographies would feel.

“I was worried about you.” You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to tell him everything you’ve rehearsed thousands of times while imagining this encounter. It’s hard because there are so many words and feelings currently fighting for dominance in your head, all longing for a chance to speak to him. Because every fiber of your being was aware of one thing – you might never get this opportunity again.

In response to your inner turmoil, Hyunjin scoffs and chuckles softly, like finding any humor in the matter takes a lot of effort. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Your eyes widen, puzzled.

“If you truly cared, you would have done more than send a flimsy ‘get well soon’ card.”

“I didn’t know!” You’re quick to defend yourself, panic and anger mingling as fear creeps in, terrified that his opinion of you might’ve changed quite drastically. “I had no idea you got injured until a few weeks ago! They all kept it from me, so don’t blame me for whatever shit Chris has been doing behind my back. I had no say in it.”

Hyunjin’s lips part but no words come out, stunning him into silence for the time being.

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” He eventually shakes his head, dismissing any rational thought that might’ve tried to help him make sense of your explanation. Instead of listening to his mind, Hyunjin chooses to listen to his wounded heart, which brings forth all of the anger and bitterness he’s been bottling up for months.

“Are you fucking serious?” But you do the same, your heart responding in kind as you step closer, all up in his face. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” Hyunjin snaps, just as aggravated, dropping his arms and finally opening himself up to you. “What the fuck am I doing wrong now, Y/n?” He huffs, almost like a bomb ready to explode any second. His anger has only ever gotten the best of him one time in the past, clouding his judgment and ending your relationship on the spot.

Were you about to witness it take control of him again, before losing your own cool?

“Mean.” You throw your arms up, frustrated and on the verge of tears. “You’re being mean when all I did was express my concerns for you!”

In the quiet parking lot, your argument is loud enough for all of your neighbors to hear, including Seohyun and Felix, who were left all alone in Hyunjin’s car. Under normal circumstances, the thought alone would have you curl into yourself in shame, but right now, you couldn’t care less. Even if this conversation was quickly turning into something neither of you would be able to come back from, just like all of your fights in the past.

“Well, apparently it’s in my nature so I can’t fucking help it, remember?!” He bites back, unwilling to pay any close attention to the mess you were slowly but surely morphing into right before his eyes.

Oh, how you wish you didn’t, the accusation rushing into you at a speed that knocks the air out of your lungs harshly. Mean, selfish, and inconsiderate. They were all words you spoke with your own mouth a few months ago, during one of your unplanned, weekly argument sessions. Words meant to hurt him just as much as his distance and dismissal were hurting you, to cut deep and make him bleed.

You were now regretting them more than anything, wishing you could turn back time and smack the both of you over the head so you could stop fighting and realize how much the other cared. How much you cared about him and your relationship because you were unsure as to when Hyunjin stopped caring about you.

Flinching, you look away and step back, putting some much-needed distance between you.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, your anger subsiding.

Years ago, before Hyunjin began changing into this person you didn’t know, he was always the first one to apologize after a fight, not caring who was technically at fault. He had no issues stepping over his ego and rushing to you, wishing to make things right as soon as possible, resembling a kicked puppy who’ll follow his owner to the ends of the earth no matter how many times he got left behind, abandoned.

And you always forgave him. Hopefully, he’ll find it in his heart to do the same now.

Hyunjin just shrugs and looks away, but you catch a glimpse of unshed tears in his beautiful eyes that used to sparkle so brightly, putting all of your favorite constellations to shame.

With a tentative step in his direction, you add, the sound of your heart shattering making it hard for your thoughts to make themselves heard. “Had I known about what happened, I would have dropped everything to come and see you.” Then, your voice drops as you shallow, struggling to continue staring at him. “You know this.”

Hyunjin responds a little too quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know anything.”

Your head falls, his unwillingness to meet you halfway hitting harder than before. It seemed that no matter what you chose to say, he’d vehemently deny it until the end, not finding it in himself to believe a word. His solitary quest of erasing you and all of your love filled memories was keeping him on the right path, immune to all of your heartbreak and despair.

“If that’s all.” He clears his throat, forcing himself to look in your direction as he trails off and stops messing with the ring on his index finger. A new one that replaced the simple, black ring you got him a few years ago, that was part of a couple set which matched with your white one. The ring you threw in your jewelry box, trying to hide from view, unable to look at for more than a few seconds at a time without tears welling up in your eyes.

Rings you both never took off, now abandoned in a dark corner of your rooms – out of sight and out of mind. They were a pair, only making sense together. Just like you and him have for years.

Does Hyunjin still have it? Does it haunt his dreams, jolting him awake once he realizes he hasn’t seen it in a while?

Or has he thrown it in the trash along with your relationship?

They weren’t particularly expensive, but you liked to believe their value came from what they represented. A token of love, priceless and so different from the other models who didn’t get to enjoy adorning Hyunjin’s slender finger.

“Good talk.”

You snap out of it the moment his back comes into view, and suddenly, you’re panicking like never before. The air doesn’t seem to reach your lungs anymore, yet your heart speeds up, the sight of him walking away, as painful as she remembered.

“Wait, Hyunjin!” You plead before your brain can process it, hurrying after him and reaching for his hand, trying to pull him back. To prevent him from disappearing again, like a fleeting memory you couldn’t hold on to as you wake up from a deep slumber.

But you’re not fast enough, your fingers only managing to brush against his and not grasp them entirely, falling short. This marks the second time he slips through your fingers, the second time you fail at keeping him in your life.

However, before you can drown in self-pity, Hyunjin startles you by turning around on his own accord, eyes wide.

“You’re freezing.” It’s not a question but a statement, one he confirms once he properly grasps your hand and approaches hurriedly. Without wasting a second, Hyunjin removes his red cardigan and drapes it over your shoulders, making quick work of the buttons to get you warm as soon as possible.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t register what’s happening until he’s at eye level, arms on full display as he’s left only in a black band t-shirt.

“I’m fine.” You try to wiggle your trapped arms, protesting. “Hyunjin, seriously! Take it back!”

But he doesn’t listen, as expected. “You shouldn’t have given your jacket away when it’s this cold out.”

“You’re one to talk?”

“I’ll be fine.” He dismisses your worries just as he reaches the last button of his fluffy cardigan. “You, on the other hand, get sick easily.”

When he pulls away, you see him cast an inspecting look over your form just as your arms slip into the baggy sleeves, nodding in satisfaction. “There, all better now.”

Your response comes as a whisper, a pathetic attempt at regaining your balance after the sudden turn this conversation has taken. “Is it really?”

The last thing you expected was for him to show you any type of compassion or be concerned after spending all of this time acting like you didn’t exist in his world, a big shadow that didn’t frighten him anymore, one he could walk past without any issues.

But the implication of your silly question isn’t lost on either of you, and as he looks away, preparing to flee again, your hands boldly latch themselves into his t-shirt to pull him back, almost closing the never-ending distance between your two bodies. “Please, don’t go.”

Hyunjin frowns, visible pain contorting his beautiful features in the most heartbreaking way that almost has you regretting your words. He’s speechless in front of the phrase he’s been wanting to hear roll down your tongue for so long, needing to see he means as much to you as you mean to him.

Or meant.

“Please stop shutting me out.” By this point, you’re begging, desperate to be seen and heard by the person who once was your entire world. “Let me be there for you again, your shoulder to cry on. You don’t have to bear all of this pain alone, Hyun.”

He inhales sharply, looking away like your words sting, touch the deepest part of his core that nobody in existence has ever managed to reach.

Now, in the dim parking lot light, you’re able to see all of him, the way his resolve breaks in the form of clear tears that rush to his eyes but don’t dare fall, held hostage behind the wall he’s built between him and the entire world.

“I don’t know how to.” His response is quiet, soft like the brush of a feather against your cheek, sign he’s barely willing to admit this weakness to himself.

You shake your head, unwilling to accept his reasoning. “Yes, you do. I know how much you hate when people worry about you but – “

“Then stop.” His interruption is harsh, almost as harsh as the storm currently taking place behind his lifeless eyes. “Stop worrying and leave me alone. It’s for the best.”

“How can you even think that?” Your hands drop down to find his own, hesitant in reaching out to hold them and settling for the way they briefly brush against each other, hoping some of your newfound warmth could soothe him.

“Because it’s true. I can’t seem to be able to do anything right, so it’s only fitting I stop trying.”

Hyunjin has always had such a positive outlook on life and everything around him, truly believing that as long as you didn’t give up, as long as you were a good person, good things will inevitably find you. Such words coming out of his mouth were made to sound like a foreign language he’s recently learned in your absence.

“Hyun…” Your hands flex, itching to share some of the comfort you were able to provide.

Eventually, his shoulders slump forward, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to steady his breathing, so dejected it almost brings you to tears. “I’m tired, Y/n.”

“So, so tired of everything and everyone wanting something from me. My time, my attention, my love, and energy. I don’t have anything else to give. I’m not capable of giving anymore.”

Even if they’re not meant to be one, considering his current state, his words do feel like a jab at your last conversation, the tantrum you threw that inevitably led to the end of your relationship. You’ve always wanted too much, expected everything. More of his time, attention, and a gram of the love he was busily pouring into other things and people who weren’t you.

But could you really be blamed? After spending all of these years as his top priority, his favorite person nobody could compare to, wasn’t it only natural to panic once his focus shifted to something else?

A relationship can only develop if both parties are equally involved, blooming and growing with the help of their love and affection for one another. But towards the end, you are the only one constantly giving your all and making sacrifices in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into your dying and withering relationship. You are stuck watching the love pour out from a hole you can’t find.

So, in this situation, who should be the one expressing how tired they were? How depleted they’ve felt for months on end, barely holding on to the lifeline their friends have kindly thrown out into the sea to keep them afloat?

“Then rest and reevaluate your priorities.” You mumble, actively feeling the way your heart is desperately trying to stitch itself back together. “You can’t be doing everything at once, Hyunjin.”

“I have been resting.” Hyunjin straightens, shoving one of his hands in the pocket of his baggy pants.

“Your body, sure.” You search for his gaze as your hand bravely embarks on a new journey, its destination unknown. “But what about your mind?” It settles over his chest, happy to feel him relax at the gentle touch. “What about your heart?” You point, poking his chest repeatedly right over the part of him you used to love with every fiber of your being.

It comes as a surprise when Hyunjin responds in kind, gently enveloping your hand in his to stop you. “I’m fine.” What causes your heart to stop beating momentarily is that he doesn’t let go.

You sigh, already exasperated at his excessive use of this infuriating phrase. “You’ve always been such a bad liar.”

Then, the unexpected happens. Hyunjin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners most endearingly. You used to kiss those faint wrinkles, dotting them just like you would on him, adoring the proof of his happiness.

“You’re the only one who can tell because you know me too well. I don’t have such problems with other people.”

“And isn’t that sad?” You enquire, shifting in his hold to intertwine your fingers. “To be surrounded by people who don’t know you? The real you?”

His smile vanishes and you almost wish to take it all back, remain silent just so he could be happy for longer. Just so he could smile and pretend you weren’t a lost cause, a story with a hopeless future that will always end tragically.

“It’s depressing.” He admits easily, almost like he’s been waiting for someone to finally see through him and call his bluff. A tortured artist, Hyunjin has always had a flair for the dramatic.

Silence settles between you, making itself comfortable as you pull your hand back and begin unbuttoning the red cardigan, which still has that specific, new clothing smell mixed with his usual cologne.

Hyunjin doesn’t protest as you take it off to drape over his shoulders, sharing your warmth like you’ve done countless times before, eyes watching you like a hawk. Soft but oh so attentive, studying your every micro-expression like he’d do with the models in one of his painting classes, not missing a breath.

“I have so much to say.” A bittersweet laugh escapes you, causing some of the tears you’ve managed to keep at bay for so long to escape and roll down your cheeks freely. You could spend your whole night here, in this parking lot with him, just talking until the sun rose and you’d be forced to part to start a new day. One that didn’t involve the other anymore. “So many questions. So many stories I’ve saved up, kept to myself because I know you’re the only one who could ever understand.”

Regret cripples his beautiful features as he makes to reach out, to touch and wipe your tears, as expressive as you’ve grown to love him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the strength to do so, arms falling to his side pathetically.

You shallow back your tears, wiping your eyes a little too harshly. “But right now, as I’m looking at you, all I want to say is please, take care of yourself.”

“Take your time to dwell on everything until you realize this is not you. This, the version of you that’s currently in front of me, isn’t the Hyunjin everyone has come to love.”

With a deep breath, one that barely fills your lungs with air, your gazes lock for the last time.

“You’re not this cold, unapproachable person that shuts all of his loved ones out. You’re not an island meant to exist by yourself. Remember that.”

Hyunjin stares at you and the way your mouth moves, speechless, unsure how to respond or react to the kindness you are currently showing him. It’s like he couldn’t, unable to speak no matter how hard he tried, the lump in his throat preventing any of his true feelings from escaping.

He couldn’t comprehend why you were still being so nice to him, so loving and compassionate when he’d been anything but that since you met up tonight.

“I – don’t…know what to say.” He manages to let out, voice shaky and on the verge of breaking.

A tiny smile creeps onto your features, bittersweet among the tears that have dried on your cheeks. “That’s alright. Thank you for listening to me; that’s all I needed.”

That’s when you step back towards your apartment building, increasing the distance so you’ll finally be able to breathe. You’re still staring at each other, frozen on the spot, afraid that if you glance away even for a second, the other will disappear.

“Can you please go and wake Seohyun?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond right away, eyes locked into yours as his lips part in search of the proper words that would finally put an end to your misery. Words that would help you go back to the way things were before, to a happier time in your life where his love had you up on cloud nine, feeling invincible in front of everything that life threw your way.

He looks almost pitiful, unable to grasp the hand you’ve given him, the olive branch that would close the distance between you, help him traverse oceans, and get home safe and sound.

So, he does the only thing he can. Hyunjin nods and grants your wish, swiftly turning on his heel to walk away, towards your two sleeping friends. As you watch him, you feel multiple pieces of your heart detaching to run after him, a painful sensation, similar to the hurt you’d feel while peeling a band-aid off a fresh wound.

When Seohyun steps out, stretching her arms above her head, still wearing your jacket, Felix follows. They exchange a few words before Hyunjin departs, rounding the car to get to his seat, closing himself off from the world.

And then, they hug and you can’t help but stare at the scene with an unusual amount of interest. They look great together, like Barbie and Ken, made especially for one another, never meant to be separated.

Seohyun is beaming as she skips towards you, and so is Felix as he waves goodbye from his place by the car, sharing a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t join Hyunjin until he sees your best friend pulling you into a brief embrace, giddy like it’s the first time you crossed paths tonight.

The car then drives off and that’s when your tears return in full force, cascading down your cheeks in a sight that alarms Seohyun who gasps and checks your body for any potential injuries you might have acquired in the past 20 minutes you’ve spent apart.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Her hold on your shoulders tightens, worry written all over her pretty face as she searches for your wandering gaze. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head, but you’re not as convincing as you hoped since the tears don’t stop. “I just want to go home.”

Seohyun links your arms and begins dragging you forward, away from the parking lot and the conversation that has shattered your heart once again.

The next morning, you finally text Changbin back.

A few days later, Friday finds you on your way to class when an urgent phone call has you make a detour to one of your favorite places, to your relief. Anything to skip another never ending lecture you didn’t know how to get out of without Chris or Jisung’s help, who were both too busy with their careers to assist at the moment.

Furry Friends Rescue looked just about the same, standing proudly with all the Halloween decorations you’ve put up ahead of the anticipated holiday. Mrs. Jeon has still not made her return, so you were helping out more than usual – not that you minded anyway. Right now, it was one of those instances, having to hurry over to cover for the guy who was supposed to open the shelter but got caught up with a presentation he forgot all about. In consequence, the shelter was still closed at 11 am which meant the animals still hadn’t had their breakfast.

Dealing with hungry little furballs all by yourself wasn’t how you expected your Friday to go, but you can manage. After all, being alone had become like second nature these days.

That’s why you weren’t expecting to bump into him again.

“Y/n!” Jaemin exclaims as you approach, already halfway through the door. You hurry over, nudging him inside and quickly closing the door before one of the wandering animals can escape.

“I thought I was the only one here…” He mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

You nod, not oblivious to the way things seem to have changed between you since that last game. “I didn’t know Siwoo called you as well.” You exhale, suddenly out of breath. “Well, since you’re here and seem to have everything under control I’ll go – “

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You whip around to face him a little too quickly, surprised at his sudden apology. Jaemin stands tall, not wavering even as Snowflake, the shelter’s star, struts over and begins rubbing her little face against his legs in a loving greeting, the type you never had the pleasure of getting.

Seems like the elephant in the room was too grand for poor Jaemin to ignore any further, feeling genuine remorse about the way your relationship soured.

Still, you play dumb. “Sorry? For what?”

“For keeping it from you.” You know exactly what he’s alluding to. “I’m not the captain and I’ll never be. I’m just filling in until he recovers and gets back.” Somehow, saying Hyunjin’s name seems to be as difficult for him as it is for you. Or maybe it’s avoided out of consideration for you.

“Jaemin – “

“Let me finish.” He takes a step closer, bleached hair pushed out of his face. “I never meant to be the captain. That was never my intention. But what was I supposed to do? The coach was desperate and I felt too bad to turn him down in time of need.”

Jaemin is tall, but now, as he bares his soul to you, a person he met a mere month ago, he looks comically tiny. His vulnerability makes him feel small.

“I thought I did the right thing but now almost every guy on the team seems to hate me.” The breath he lets out shakes him to his core, and you can finally take a peek at the exhaustion that’s been hiding underneath that bright smile. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt to lead a team of people who disliked you, how all of their feet would feel while trampling all over your heart, treating you like the biggest cartoon villain in history.

And now, your initial assessment of him felt a little too cruel. Jaemin didn’t replace Hyunjin willingly and certainly did not mean to erase him from the team, as you and the other players were quick to think.

He was just trying to help. You didn’t know him for long, but his helpful nature has been obvious from day one, enough to get Mrs. Jeon to trust him to take your place. Why did you allow your emotions to treat him so harshly?

Before you can process it, your hand lands on his arm. “They don’t hate you.”

His gaze flies to the casual touch, your attempt at comfort appreciated. “Sure.” Jaemin snorts. “Choi tried to fight me.”

You remember the conversation you witnessed at the game, the stupid plan Yeonjun and Daehyun bonded over. Nothing like an ambush to bring peace between two pigheaded men.

You attempt to suppress a smile, clearing your throat at a memory that steps forward. “Yeonjun has also tried to fight Hyunjin in the past. Daehyun is still trying.”

“Really?”

You nod. “Oh, yeah. Yeonjun thought Hyunjin was too stuck-up and they butted heads all the time. It took a while for them to see eye to eye and even more to become the friends they are today.”

Jaemin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Stuck up? The captain?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, amused at the admiration hidden behind said eyes. “Hyunjin has always been a team player, but being a leader is different. He thought everyone should follow his lead without complaint, not bothering to consult with the others as long as they won the game.”

“That – “ He trails off, wanting to make sure you’re not messing with him. “Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Despite yourself, you grin. “Well, he’s had three years to get to this point. Do you think he’d still be captain if he continued without changing?”

He’s silent, taking it all in. Jaemin hasn’t been part of the team for long but it seems like the thought of his teammates growing and evolving has never crossed his mind. He just assumed they were all perfect from the beginning. Everyone but him.

“And Daehyun is just stupid, plain and simple.” You add.

Jaemin bursts out laughing, some of the tension leaving his battered shoulders. “I can only agree.”

“So don’t worry about them. Men in sports are strange creatures anyway; you’ll never be able to make all of them happy.”

You take his silent contemplating as an opportunity to crouch down to Snowflake’s level and scratch under her chin, cooing at her beautiful white fur as she begins purring in appreciation.

“What about you?” He suddenly asks, joining you on the floor. “Can I make you happy?”

Your heart thumps loudly, almost knocking the breath out of your lungs at his bold question, heat rushing to your face. “W-What do you mean?”

Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, revealing his helix piercing and the red that’s staining the top of his ears. He’s embarrassed, and you can’t help the terror that’s quickly creeping into your heart at the fact that the prospect of a confession is no longer as terrifying as before.

Looking up at you from beneath long lashes, he flushes. “Are we still friends?”

And then, it just stops. You pause, wondering if you heard him right. He’s staring at you so pleadingly, so close to you and your barricaded heart. Taking pity on him is the only right answer, especially after he just poured his heart out just for your sake. Just to make sure your opinion of him hasn’t changed, that you don’t hate him like his teammates do.

Judging by the look on his face, it’s obvious he couldn’t handle that reality. Not after becoming public enemy number one.

With a smile, you reach and poke his forehead, chasing his worries away. “What do you think, dummy? Of course we are.”

Relief floods his features, eyes sparkling with unshed tears he obviously doesn’t want you to notice, swinging backwards with a sigh as Snowflake suddenly jumps into his lap. You laugh, amused by his antics, and he soon joins, just a little strained.

“Thank fuck.” He exhales, sitting up. “Work would have been awkward otherwise.”

You snort, pushing his shoulder before standing up. “Bold of you to assume Mrs. Jeon would let you keep coming back after upsetting me.”

A cocky smirk finds its way on pink lips as he leans back onto his forearms. “You seem to forget Mrs. Jeon has left me in charge until she returns.” Snowflake meows and he reaches to pet her. “You would have been the one let go.”

You frown down at him and he finally laughs, throwing his head back in pure delight.

Just as you move past him to the backroom in search of the food for the hungry furballs, he calls out. “We should hang out sometimes! Outside of work.”

“After you threatened to fire me?” You shout back, busy grabbing one of the big bags of nutritious, top-quality food Mrs. Jeon loved to splurge on. “Not a chance!”

“Come on, I was joking!” But he’s still laughing, no sign of wanting to give a helping hand.

You don’t respond.

“Y/n?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

As expected, your statement is only met with another round of laughter you can’t help but reciprocate.

The following week, you begin meeting with Changbin quite frequently, full of inspiration and ready to do your part of the project. Working with him is even better than expected, all smiles, laughter, and good banter that only aids you both in your creative endeavors.

You now realize your apprehensions were all for nothing, your similar creative visions making this whole process a pleasant experience you wouldn’t have otherwise enjoyed were it not for Mr. Kim and his absurd demands.

You were a creature of habit, too placid in your comfort zone, only ever working with Chris and Jisung when the time called for it. One thing that art in itself isn’t. You’ve been told countless times that to become a true artist, one who’ll truly touch people’s hearts, you need to step out of your bubble and spread your wings. But you were never willing to. You still aren’t, not fully anyway. But working with Changbin makes the whole ordeal seem less scary, not as intimidating or frustrating as you thought it’d be.

Today, as you step into the familiar studio, Changbin is joined by Chris and Jisung who are caught up in a heated debate of sorts.

“Hi?”

All three heads swing around to face you, too in synch for your liking, and the conversation fizzles out. Almost like they didn’t want you to hear whatever they were discussing.

“Sup!” Changbin is the first one to greet you, standing up to offer a comforting side hug. “These two will, unfortunately, be joining us today. I hope that’s okay.”

“Unfortunately?” Chris scoffs, kicking Bin’s chair.

“We are her best friends! Us! Not you!” Jisung adds, crossing his arms from his place on the couch.

Changbin rolls his eyes as you hide a giggle behind your hand, walking back to his seat to roll his chair next to Chan’s, bumping into him as some sort of silent warning.

“What are you guys up to?” You ask after greeting your two pouty best friends, giving them the proper hugs needed to stop their sulking. When you finally sit on the couch, Jisung makes himself comfortable with his head in your lap, lounging about like he owns the place.

“You know.” Changbin nods towards their open laptops. “Work.”

Jisung’s only response is a groan, rolling around to bury his head in your fluffy sweater, not wanting to be part of this conversation. Instinctively, your hand finds his soft locks and begins combing through them.

You haven’t seen these two in a while, work keeping them even busier than usual. It’s been lonely, especially since Seohyun has started spending most of her free time with Felix of all people. Seems like their relationship was getting too serious, too fast and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Felix was a great guy, one of the nicest people you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. But your best friend was known for jumping into things, head first, without much thought. Did he really like her as much as she thought? Did she actually have feelings for him beyond the initial infatuation?

But you couldn’t interfere. After all, you weren’t able to keep your own relationship afloat, so who were you to doubt theirs?

You just hoped Seohyun was being careful. As much as you liked to think you knew Felix, he’s spent the last few years in a different environment, away from his friends and everything he was accustomed to. The probability of him being a completely different person despite appearances was never zero.

“I’m guessing that means your projects are done?” You probe, untangling Jisung’s hair.

Chris shakes his head, brown curls flying everywhere. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“That’s because his partner is an ex situationship. He’s running away.” Jisung chimes in, voice muffled by the material of your clothing.

Chris gasps a little too loudly, face flushing in embarrassment as Changbin cackles at his misery, having the time of his life. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to deny it, even argue with Jisung, but the truth prevents him from doing so.

Tugging on his hair, you then look down at the man in your lap. “And what’s your excuse?”

Jisung groans, university assignments being the bane of his existence. “You know me! I don’t feel any pressure to do anything until the very last day!”

Oh, yeah. Very on brand for the king of procrastination.

“I told you we’re way ahead of everyone else.” Changbin suddenly says, puffing up his chest, pride written all over his features.

Chris turns towards you, surprised. “You’re writing again?”

When you nod, he breaks out into the brightest smile, one that could put the sun to shame, and your heart grows at the pride you feel radiating off of him. He and Changbin both seem to be happier than you at the fact that you finally found your voice again.

“Not only is she writing again, she finished a whole song all by herself yesterday!” With the way he’s boasting, you’d think Changbin is talking about one of his achievements. You were so grateful for him and the way he’s been supporting you, holding your hand through this difficult journey made easier by his kind words, how he didn’t rush or berate you for feeling stuck.

“What?” Jisung sits up, staring between you and his friend. “And you didn’t play it for us?”

Changbin shakes his head. “No can do. It’s Y/n’s song, only she can decide when to play it for others.”

“Yet you heard it.” Chris pouts, joining Jisung as you try to muffle your giggles at their antics.

“I produced it!”

“I could have produced it as well!”

Chris clears his throat, grabbing both of their attention. “I’ve known her for longer.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” They almost yell in unison, and you finally lose it, falling backwards on the couch as laughter overwhelms you.

The loud chatter continues and your happiness reaches new highs, the three of them never fail to lift your spirits. They’ve always managed to make you feel included, no matter how many people were asking for their attention at a time, never turning their backs on you in favor of impressing potential contacts who could help further their careers.

Hanging out with the three of them felt like old times when your big friend group would get together and party until the sun came up. When you’d go on trips and have the time of your life, along with your beloved and these people who loved you unconditionally.

You missed it, but above it all, you felt guilty, not managing to shake off this irritating voice that loved to whisper nonsense in your ear. About how you’re not enough, how it’s all your fault they all fell apart, divided because of the tragic ending that has cursed your love story.

It might as well have been all of your fault. You just hoped, deep down, that Chris would be able to find it in himself to forgive you because you could never forgive yourself.

Time flies as you’re having fun, projects, work, and university all forgotten in favor of catching up and discussing everything that comes to mind, comfortable among friends to give free rein to your deepest thoughts. Changbin talks about this new girl he’s seeing, how the thrill of a new relationship keeps him awake at night. He’s always been a hopeless romantic. Chris opens up about that ex situationship of his, how running away from that responsibility has been keeping his steps up.

Jisung is about to open up about Yoona until the distinct beeping of a code being pushed in reaches your ears and the door swings open, startling the four of you as the conversation comes to an abrupt stop.

Because in steps none other than Minho, closely followed by Seungmin.

“Oh?” Minho blinks, pointily ignoring your presence. “Are we interrupting tea time, princesses?”

Changbin laughs, but the sound isn’t genuine, a little awkward as Jisung rolls his eyes so far back you’re sure he greeted his brain. Chris tries his best to smile and be welcoming, but you can see right through him. Something, or maybe someone, is clearly bothering him.

“Can’t you knock?” Jisung is just as blunt, not bothering to greet either of them.

Minho’s eyebrows hike up. “Why would I? I have the code for a reason, unlike someone in here.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about you or Jisung, who got this benefit removed a few months ago when he brought over a random groupie, too impatient to make it back to the apartment.

Either way, he’s still annoyed, puffing and blowing hair out of his face while fishing out his phone to put an end to this conversation.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Seungmin’s honeyed voice calms the spirits as he steps forward. “I had no idea you were having a meeting.”

“They’re clearly not.” With that said, Minho’s eyes finally met yours, narrowed in that usual glare he seemed to save for the people he truly disliked. Like you.

It sends a shiver down your spine, the unpleasant kind, whole body tenses up under his scrutinizing gaze. You’ve always found Minho’s eyes beautiful and that unfortunately hasn’t changed even as his opinion of you did.

Jisung and Minho used to be like two peas in a pod, inseparable, sharing a bond that would often leave others green with envy. You’d sometimes get into playful arguments with Minho, demanding he return your best friend at once, before you were both pulled into a hug by said best friend, forced to make up by his bright laughter.

Now, they couldn’t stand one another.

“Why are you guys here? Did something happen at home?” Changbin finally breaks the awkward silence, standing up to properly greet his two friends.

Minho shakes his head, while Seungmin adds. “No. Just wanted to talk to you about the festival.”

“Festival?” The question escapes without your consent, and the attention is back on you.

Seungmin looks confused. “You haven’t told her?” This question is pointed toward your best friend who only shakes his head sheepishly.

“It slipped my mind.”

Jisung looks exasperated, just barely holding himself back from leaving the room as your eyes dart between them, full of questions.

“Well, that’s fine.” His face comes into view, reserved smile on full display as he addresses you. Seungmin has always been more introverted than the others. “The film festival is taking place next week. Our university has managed to bring in some seasoned film critics to judge this year’s submissions, which also includes one of my short movies.”

Then, with utmost gentleness, like you were an easily frightened child, his hand lands on your shoulder. “I hope you can make it.”

Seungmin…was inviting you?

The film festival was a yearly event, one of the biggest ones at your university, close behind the dance competition and the beloved football season. Jisung loves movies, so you were always in attendance, surrounded by your friend group and their entertaining banter that made the night even more special.

But after your falling out, you didn’t expect anyone to want you there.

“Changbin?” Minho’s sharp voice cuts through, and Seugmin straightens. “A word?”

Changbin follows them outside after Seugmin bids everyone goodbye with another soft smile, and the door clicks shut behind them, leaving the three of you alone.

Jisung is grumbling under his breath, finally able to relax while Chris turns towards you, with one of his famous smiles, eyes sparkling for some unknown reason. He’s taken off his beanie, rolled up his sleeves, tattoos on full display – he means business.

“Isn’t this great?” He hums, taking hold of your hands. His are cold. “It’s been a while since we’ve all done something together. I bet Seohyun will be thrilled.”

“As if she actually cares.” Jisung mumbles, draping himself over the couch to get to the mini fridge in the corner.

Chris ignores him, his hold on you tightening. “What do you think, sweetheart? Feel like watching some up and coming masterpieces with me?”

You see the longing in his eyes, the wish for things to go back to normal – for you to regain your spark. He misses them, the friends you used to spend all of your time with, and your heart drops. It’s all your fault. If it weren’t for you and your emotional outburst, things would have still been fine.

You and Hyunjin would still be together, Chris would still have his friends, and Jisung wouldn’t act like they never existed. Everyone wouldn’t be so divided.

Why did you have to ruin everything?

“Chris, I…don’t think it’s a good idea.” His face falls, so you quickly add. “I don’t want to ruin it for everyone.”

The perplexity on his face makes you feel even worse. “What? What are you even talking about? Seungmin invited you himself.”

You shake your head. “Just because I happened to be here, and I asked about it. I’m sure I put him in an awkward position where he felt like he had to.”

“Nonsense!” He denies your ridiculous claims in a heartbeat.

“Chris, no offense, but I’d rather spend my night with people that like me and enjoy my company.”

“We can have our own movie night, bug.” Jisung chides, big hands landing on your shoulders from behind. “Horror, of course.”

Chris completely brushes off Jisung’s comment, still committed to convincing you. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t like you, Y/n. Wake up.”

“No, you need to wake up!” Jisung snaps before you can say anything, eyes two sharp slits ready to come for his throat. You fall back against his chest, pulled by his strong arms, almost like he was trying to protect you from the intensity of his next words. “You’ve been going on and on about this for days, insisting we all act like nothing happened just so we can fulfill your absurd fantasy! Let it go.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. “You’re one to talk? Seugmin tried to do a nice thing and you, along with Minho, ruined it for everyone!”

Now you were lost. What were they talking about?

“Why the fuck do you care more about Seugmin than about your best friend and the way that group has been treating her?”

The silence that follows is deafening, more damaging than any booming sound, both for your ears and your fragile heart. You’re speechless, eyes glued to the floor, unable to look at Chris and see the hurt flash across his face – hurt you’ve caused. Jisung was just trying to defend you but he could have been nicer; you should have said something else before things escalated to this level.

“Are you fucking serious?” Is all Chris manages to murmur after pushing past his disbelief, staring you both down with an intensity that could break even the most resilient person. However, Jisung isn’t as easily spooked, meeting his gaze head-on, always the most stubborn one in the room.

“I have been nothing but supportive. Been your shoulder to lean on, cry and breakdown on whenever you needed. I kept watch over you for months, every day without fail, just to make sure you weren’t drowning in self-pity.”

That was true. You were quite pathetic after things ended between you and Hyunjin, like a house without land or a boat without water, just floating aimlessly. Chris rushed over the moment you called, to be your rock and bring you back to the surface, not leaving even as your crying never subsided. He was the first one to know, the first one you confided in, the one whose shirt you soaked with your tears.

For the first two months spent in Australia, when it was only you, him, and his family, he never let you out of sight. Chris took you everywhere with him, trying to rope you into new activities, hobbies you might enjoy that could bring your smile back even for the briefest moment needed for his batteries to recharge.

You couldn’t have regained that sense of normality without him by your side, holding your hand every step of the way.

“I tried to open your eyes and make you see that nobody hates you. They don’t blame you for what happened because frankly, it doesn’t concern any of them!” He runs a hand through unruly curls, visibly distressed.

“The person Minho hates is me, not you! Do you know why? Because he’s convinced I picked you over Hyunjin, which I fucking did.” Your breath hitches in your throat, and that’s when you feel Jisung freeze behind you, most of the fight leaving his body.

You had no idea Minho resented him for that. Chris became a villain in someone’s story because of you. Chris, sunshine embodied, the guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“And the worst part of it all is that I can’t condone him. I would have hated myself too.”

You have a hunch he already does. Chris has always had the habit of blaming himself for everything going wrong in his life, sometimes for things that were obviously out of his control.

Then he turns to address Jisung. “And you dare say I don’t care about Y/n.”

Jisung looks away, biting the side of his cheek, most likely ashamed of his previous outburst.

“You’re so far up your ass that you can’t even see your friends miss you and are trying to make amends.”

At that, Jisung scoffs, most likely not believing his words entirely. Chris’s eyes narrow.

“Playing mediator was never my fucking job yet I still did it because I care about you two and your happiness. I put it above mine and everything else that matters to me!”

“Nobody asked you to do that.” The man behind you mumbles, still bitter.

“Jisung!” You turn around to get a hold of his ear, which makes him complain loudly, pulling until he swats your hand away and you almost get into an argument of your own.

Yet, Chris isn’t impressed, not in the slightest. Your attention is captured by the loud sound of his chair rolling back, and as he stands up, the door opens, and Changbin returns, alone.

He freezes on the spot, the tension preventing him from advancing as he stares between the three of you with the biggest question mark above his head. Your best friend pays him no mind and instead addresses you one last time, eyes devoid of their usual spark.

“I’m done. Just do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore.”

With those simple words, Chris turns his back to you and walks out, not even bothering to close the door behind him or spare you another glance. Changbin looks torn between following him or staying put to hear the whole story, but eventually, he bolts after your friend, not caring about what either you or Jisung have to say.

All alone, you stare at each other, guilt eating at you from the inside. The gravity of the situation hits you both at the same time, like a punch to the face neither saw coming.

What have you done?

“Bug – “

You shake your head, putting a hand up to stop him from saying anything else.

Chris was the last person you wanted to hurt in this lifetime.

How could you have been so stupid?

How could you have ruined another one of your relationships?

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

TR!Sneeg is such a fascinating character to me because he feels like a mess of contradictions and he's so different than people's first impressions of him.

Sneeg is the goofy and loud guy who makes fart jokes and can never take anything seriously. He's also incredibly smart and perceptive and can immediately tell when someone is trying to be manipulative. Sneeg knows all the techniques that people use to lie and manipulate and he can smell bullshit from a mile away. He also knows how to use those techniques himself but rarely chooses to. Sneeg is so good at controlling a conversation when he wants to that you don't even realize that he's doing it until after the fact. He often hides behind his jokes and sometimes you don't even realize that there is intent in how he goes about things. I still remember when Tubbo was bothering Ros and Sneeg casually got Tubbo to come to his mushroom island to look at his machines. He lead Tubbo through that conversation so naturally that I didn't even realize that it was intentional to get his focus off of Ros until afterwards. Tubbo never realized it either. It's not something Sneeg does often as he prefers the simplicity of honesty but he is very capable of manipulation and outsmarting people. He just also happens to be so outwardly goofy you forget and I think he prefers things that way.

Sneeg is also stubborn and quick to complain. You would think this would mean he would want things handed to him but Sneeg is an insanely dedicated worker. Sneeg is fueled by spite and and a drive to better himself that bleeds into obsession. He wants to earn things and by god he will. He'll spend hours and hours grinding levels and building his machines and he'll always be looking for new ways to improve things. You usually would equate stubbornness with an unwillingness to change but Sneeg is stubborn in the way that he simply doesn't give up. If there is a problem that needs to be solved he'll keep working at it until he figures it out, trying out different angles if he needs to. It'll drive him crazy until he figures it out. He complains a lot yes, but that is because when he sees flaws he has this compulsion to try and fix things and improve them.

Sneeg is also a distant and intimidating figure towards most of the server these days. He spends most of his time in solitude and getting stronger. What people don't realize is that Sneeg cares for others so deeply. He was the first one to sign the F.A.C.T.I.O.N. pact, the reason he hated Pili1 was because he couldn't stand a bully and he even helped other factions with their quests this week. Sneeg is one of the biggest advocates for peace on the server. He almost always tries to help people whenever he can and wants to be included so he can help more. All people need to do is ask and he will be there. He has such a guilt complex whenever he feels like he failed someone. When Ros was killed by Pili1 it haunted him. He was so upset with himself for not being there in time that it lead to him inventing the castle alarm system. When Aimsey died to a warden in front of him he felt partially responsible even when they insisted it wasn't his fault. Sneeg doesn't have many people he's close with on the server but the few he has he holds dearly. You can see it in the way he latched onto L.O.S.A. and declared them more important than even their shared faction. You can also see it in how quickly he and Aimsey have become friends and how he was ready to defend them against Tubbo without hesitation. Sneeg can come across as intimidating with his sarcasm and flat tone but he genuinely cares about people so much. He is kind and he wants others to be kind too. And he has an understanding that sometimes you need a gun to enforce that kindness.

[losers-clvb]

"i leave a mark so you know i'm the best" sam winchester x party girl!reader

content: age gap, dubious consent (reader is intoxicated), smut, clitoral stimulation, protected piv, size kink if you squint, praise, fluff, angst (sam's inner monologue), drinking, partying

word count: 3.4k

song: diet pepsi by addison rae

note: sorry if your name is 'rosie' !! my apologies if the party culture is not accurate, i was in fact nine years old in 2013 (around the time of this) and more worried about who my godly parent was. if i had a time machine, i would go back and party it up.

m.list meet party girl!

A pop song boomed through the speakers, making Sam’s ears ring. You had dragged him to a house party thrown by one of your classmates.

“C’mon, honey, it’ll be fun.”

He didn’t dare tell Dean where he was. His brother would have cracked a joke about him being the chaperone, or something else to make Sam feel even worse.

He’d gotten into town less than an hour ago. The second he pulled into the parking lot near your dorms, you bounded out in a tight mini dress and the highest heels he had ever seen -- he was overexaggerating, the shoes only gave you an extra three inches.

“Wore this just for you.” You had whispered in his ear. His hands had found their way to your ass and he squeezed lightly in reaction. “I’m hot, right?”

“Baby, you could be wearing a potato sack and still be hot.” He had responded before kissing your forehead.

You had giggled, a small blush creeping across your face. You weren’t insecure in yourself -- there had been, beyond Sam’s knowledge, a party that you had shown up in a potato sack, still hot as hell --, but the love radiating off of him made you feel like you were in high school again. 

To be fair, it wasn’t that long ago, but the fact that no college boys had brought back that feeling didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Yo, Rosie!”

You snapped your head in the direction of the call, your nickname catching your attention. There, balanced on the back of a couch, was the host of the party, Travis Lawson. He had become a friend of yours, in a strange kind of way.

To make a short story shorter, he’d asked you out, you threw up on him, and, being the gentleman he was, Travis took care of you for the rest of the night.

Funny enough, it was also the night you had earned yourself the “Rosie” nickname.

“Travvy!” You squealed, bouncing into his open arms.

Sam frowned when his hands left your waist, but followed regardless.

“Rosie?” He questioned, stationing himself next to you. You pulled away from Travis and hugged onto Sam’s arm.

“Don’t you worry about that.” You dismissed, scrunching your nose. Travis laughed and took a swig of the mixture in his cup.

“She drank a whole bottle of tequila rose one night.” He explained to Sam, eyeing the older man. This must have been that boyfriend you talked about so much.

Sam pushed his eyebrows together and looked down at you.

“How are you still alive?” He asked, making you giggle.

“It wasn’t that bad. But the hangover was an absolute bitch to deal with.” You groaned, remembering the next day. Sam snorted a laugh and shook his head at his crazy girl. You placed a kiss on his bicep before turning back to Travis.

“This is Sammy-,”

“Sam.”

You gave him a narrowed eye look, but continued regardless.

“Sam. My boyfriend.” You let Sam pull you against his chest and wrap an arm around you.

“The daddy?” Travis asked, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. You swatted out at him, scowling.

“I said that once.” You defended, hissing out the words. “Before we started dating.” You directed that to Sam.

Sam offered you a stiff smile, swallowing down the embarrassment he felt at daddy.

“Anyway…,” you sighed out, looking at Travis, “where’s Mallory?”

“Oh, she’s looonnnngggg gone.” Travis explained, pulling out the word and gesturing with his hands to prove the point. You tilted your head slightly. “Turns out she had a boyfriend.”

“Hmm, that’s strange.” Your voice dripped with faux surprise. “If only someone had pointed that out weeks ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Travis pretended to be annoyed, but that smile that everyone seemed to get when they were in your presence creeped onto his face. He shook his head, sipping his drink again. “How’d you know?”

“I can always detect snake bitches.” You proclaimed. You felt Sam pulling away from you so you hugged his arm closer. You didn’t want him to leave you.

Anxiety was flooding through his eyes when you looked up at him.

In college, he wasn’t a partier in the slightest. Jess had dragged him to a few events, but he always ended up standing in the corner while she chatted away.

Now, he was completely uninterested in parties. The closest he’d come to something like this had been a company Christmas party he and Dean snuck into for a case, but he was sure no one there had been doing body shots.

It was weird. You were so different from him. There wasn’t any reason why your relationship, should have worked, but it did.

But this? This was quickly becoming too much for him.

“Honey?” You hummed, making him look down at you. “You good?”

Sam cleared his throat, nodding unconvincingly.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, just gonna go get some air.” He mumbled. You frowned, eyes following his form as he disappeared into the crowd.

“He’s not into parties?” Travis asked, pulling your attention back to him. You shrugged, swiping his cup from him.

“Guess not…,” You muttered before draining the rest of the liquid into your mouth.

“C’mon, Rosie, that was hard to make!” Travis complained, standing. He slung an arm over your shoulders and you two walked to the kitchen as a pair.

“It was not.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “It’s vodka and Coke, dummy.”

“With a secret ingredient!” He defended. Leave it to you to know exactly what was in the cup. Everyone swore that if you tried three different shots of vodka, you would be able to guess exactly what brand each was.

“Grenadine. You made dirty cherry Coke.” You replied flatly. At his dramatic hurt expression, a grin broke out across your face.

“Make it dirtier this time.” You requested as he poured two cups of the drink.

Your mind drifted back to Sam while Travis played bartender, back to the nervous expression on his face. He would come back, right? He just needed a break?

----

Sam needed more than a break. He hadn’t returned to the party. He figured you would come out at some point to find him.

You didn’t.

You had lost track of time somewhere between Pitbull and Kesha, the bass of the music making your bones vibrate.

It wasn’t until you were climbing onto a table to dance that Travis took over, letting you fall into his arms bridal style. He carried you outside, your heels dangling from his hand while you babbled on about how much you loved The Black-Eyed Peas and how it would be so much better if they would just play them all night long.

Travis scanned the area, searching for Sam. He figured he would be out here somewhere.

“Sammy!” You practically screamed, jumping from Travis’ arms and sprinting to your boyfriend. You didn’t seem to notice the gravel digging into your feet while you ran. You launched yourself into him, clinging onto him like he was your lifeline. He was quick to wrap an arm under your butt to keep you from falling.

“I missed you soooooooo much.” Your voice was muffled into his chest.

Laughing, he watched as Travis strolled up. Sam hooked a finger around the straps of your heels, taking them from the college boy’s hands at his offer.

“Your girl is fuckin’ wild, man.” Travis explained, laughing. “Take care of her tonight.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam nodded before turning to walk to his car. You were still hanging on him.

When he placed you in the passenger seat, your hands grabbed at his jacket, pulling him in.

“Honey,” you smiled at him, “I want you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“I want you.” You whined. You placed your hand over his, guiding it between your legs. Your damp heat seeped into his skin. “I need you.”

“Baby, I can’t.” He argued, but didn’t move his hand. You rolled your hips, whimpering when his hand pressed down.

“Please, honey.” You swiped your tongue across your lips. “I’ve been so wet for you, all month. All I wanted was your cock in me, fucking me so good.” You moaned the last two words, eyes falling shut when his hand flexed, nudging your clit.

“I’m not giving in.” Sam pushed, trying to move away from you despite the little voice in his head that told him to stay. You grabbed his wrist and held his hand steady on yourself.

“You don’t believe me?” You asked, that damn whine coming back. “You don’t believe that I’ve fucked myself with my fingers every night, imagining they were yours? They’re nothing compared to you, you fill me so good, honey.”

“Fuck.” Sam mumbled when you grinded onto his hand again. He glanced around. The road was empty, a pro to having to park two blocks from the party.

“Make me feel good, honey.” You directed his head down closer, practically nose-to-nose now. “Make me yours.”

That, somehow, was the break in his resolve. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already made you his. Every time he saw you he made you his. But hearing you talk like that? Beg for him?

How could he say no?

He kissed you, arms wrapping around to pull you into him. He lifted you with ease, moving you to the backseat before climbing in after you. A slam of the car door shut out the cool night air.

You moaned when he nipped at your neck. His hands pushed under your dress, gripping at your ass through your underwear. He pulled them off, taking note of the damp spot and dropping them to the ground.

“Honey, wait.” You suddenly sat up. Sam pulled away, worried he did something wrong. You crawled into his lap, straddling him.

He watched you, eyebrows furrowing when you reached into the top of your dress, fingers pulling something from under your breasts. You offered it to him, a folded piece of notebook paper.

He opened it, revealing a never ending string of “i love you”s and a spattering of lipstick kisses. A faint hint of your favorite perfume drifted to him. He looked back at you with wide eyes, a smile cracking across his face.

“You like it?” Your excitement was contagious, washing over him in waves.

“I love it, baby.” Sam kissed you, but pulled away with a pant. “I love you.”

You blushed madly at his words with a giggle. Sam could have regretted this moment, saying those words for the first time when you were drunk, but here you were, pushing him up into cloud nine.

You dove toward him, smashing your lips into his.

Sam let your present float into the front seat, hands grabbing at your ass to grind you on him. You moaned, giving him the perfect opportunity to lick into your mouth.

You felt so good against him, like you belonged there, on his lap. Only God knows how he could manage to last the past two weeks without you because, in that moment, you were the only thing keeping him alive.

“Sammy…,” you huffed out when he rolled his hips up into yours. Without your notice, Sam's fingers trailed up your back to the top of your zipper. He had gotten quite skilled at taking your clothes off.

Achingly slow, he pulled the tab down, revealing more of your spine to the night. You whined, wishing he would just go faster, get you naked so you could make him feel good.

“Sammy.” You breathed, urging him on. He smirked at you, mischief running through his eyes.

“Patience, baby.” He stopped when the zipper was halfway down. You frowned, making him raise his eyebrows and tilt his head. “Don't you wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.” You grit out, trying not to show your frustration. He pecked your nose and continued the zipper’s slow descent.

“Good girls wait for good things.”

“I’ve been waiting forever.” You pouted, fingers twisting into his shirt. He only gave you a warning look. You were being dramatic, you knew it, but if there was one thing you loved in this world, it was making a big deal out of nothing to get him to fix it.

Sam slid the zipper down the remaining inch, tugging down one last time to get the fabric to pull apart. He peeled the dress off of your skin, leaving you in nothing.

“Was that so hard?” He asked, throwing a condescending tone on. You loved it when he talked to you like that because, well, he never actually meant it.

“Yes.” You breathed out, throwing your head against his chest for dramatic effect. He chuckled at you, hands back on your ass. He loved your ass.

“Good girls also get rewarded for their behavior. Do you want a reward, baby?”

“Please?” You asked, pulling your head up to look at him again. Who was he to deny you what you wanted?

Sam brushed his fingers across your skin, moving over your hip and past your pelvis. His thumb landed over your clit, barely making contact. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying not to move. He was so close, you would just have to roll your hips up a tick to get that friction you knew you needed.

“I love you.” He mumbled again, thumb rubbing down gently. A moan reverberated from your throat, making your lips part slightly. You panted out with his continued movements, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Honey…,” you sighed. Sam leaned in and kissed you, keeping the contact on your clit even and constant. You kissed him back, sloppy and full of soft whines.

You were going to come, right there in the backseat, without Sam ever entering you.

Or, you would’ve come, but in an instant, his thumb was pulled away. You gasped out, frustrated that you had come so close with nothing to show for it. Sam licked his lips, watching your lower lip jut out the smallest bit.

“Want you to come around my cock, baby.” He explained. Your irritation lightened. He wanted you around him, you wanted to be around him, it was a perfect situation.

“Mmkay,” you hummed, “but you gotta take your shirt off, honey.” You urged, tugging at the hem of it. Sam pushed out an amused breath, beaming ear to ear. You were his girl, he couldn’t stop silently repeating to himself.

He pulled up on the collar, but not before giving you a light peck.

Once the fabric was over his head, he saw you ogling his chest. Cupping a hand over your cheek, he kissed you. It was shorter than he intended, you pulling away.

“You wait right here, honey.” You tapped a finger on his sternum before twisting around in his lap. You folded yourself over the middle console, reaching for the glove box where you knew the condoms were, ass up in the air.

It was too easy for Sam to lean forward and give attention to it, one cheek receiving a kiss. You giggled at the contact, about to return back to your Sam when something shiny caught your eye. Your eyes widened at an absolute brilliant idea.

“Baby, my lap’s getting cold.” Sam poked at your hip, earning him another giggle when you fell back into him. He caught you in his arms, your back against his chest, giving him the perfect angle to kiss you again. He couldn’t get enough of it.

You shifted back into straddling him, the condom thrown to the seat beside you two. Sam looked at you quizzically, eyes flicking to the item clutched in your hands. What it was, that was unknown to him, but he enjoyed the look of determination in your eyes.

“Lean back, honey.” You ordered, bracing a hand on his shoulder to push him into the plush of the seat. You pulled the top off of your find -- a tube of red lipstick.

“Baby,” he started to ask why you had the makeup. You cut him off with a press of the tip against his skin. He watched your focused expression, your tongue peeking out the side of your mouth while you dragged the rouge, halting your actions just as the color overlapped his tattoo.

“There.” You traced a finger along the lines while you spelled it out for him. “M-I-N-E. Mine, because you are mine.”

You dropped the recapped lipstick to the floor. Uncharacteristically, Sam didn’t cluck at you for creating clutter.

No, he was more focused on trying to see the word, narrowing his eyes down to get a glimpse. He liked the way it looked. If he had less sense in him, he would be calling every tattoo shop in the direct vicinity to get it inked into his skin.

He tilted his head up, catching your proud grin.

“I’m yours.” He affirmed your words, clutching you closer. You rested your forehead on his.

“All mine.” You kissed him, slow and hard. He groaned into you, making heat throb in your lower stomach.

You wrapped your fingers around his belt, tugging the buckle open. Sam helped you unbutton and shimmy his jeans down, leaving him in his boxers.

It took a single tug at the waistband to free his dick, it springing up against his abdomen already leaking pre-cum. Fumbling for the condom, Sam let you stroke him a few times, the adoration at his size practically sweating out of you.

“Lift up for me, baby.” Sam mumbled, urging your hips.

Reluctantly, you moved your hands to his shoulders to hold yourself steady, bending at the knees to elevate yourself enough for Sam to drag his tip through your slick.

“You’re teasin’ me.” You whined. You had to stifle a moan when he smacked your clit with his dick.

“Patience.” The reminder sent a tingle through you. You had to be good, if only to get what you really wanted.

You bit back a wince when he pushed into you. There was no way you were ever getting used to his size, but you were happy to test that theory as many times as necessary.

“That’s it…,” Sam cooed, helping you ease onto him. “Takin’ me so well, baby, just like always.” He watched his length disappear into you until you were completely seated on his thighs. You shifted to adjust yourself, whimpering when his tip brushed your cervix.

If Sam had more control over his instincts, he would have been happy to sit there all night with you warming his dick. That just wasn’t who he was, something made obvious when he gripped onto your hips and dragged them up.

He moved steadily, never wavering in the push and pull of his thrusts. You were a whiny mess, hair sticking to your lipgloss and hands clutching for his chest.

He slid down the seat, back bending at an almost uncomfortable degree. It was all worth it to hear you hiss out in pleasure at the new angle. Your hold on him slipped and you crashed down onto his chest, head tucking into his neck.

“Sammy…,” you moaned. He tapped his fingers lightly on your spine. You clenched around him at the tickle.

Sam took that as his cue to speed things up, the way you liked things. He snapped his hips up, grunting.

The windows of the car steamed up. If anyone were to walk past, there would be no denying what sinful things were happening. Whines and moans and whimpers and groans filled the space, a testament to both of your skill sets.

“I love you.” Sam puffed out.

Your breath hitched when you came, mouth falling open on Sam’s shoulder. He rocked up into you a few more times before following your lead, spilling into the condom.

“Baby, you messed up your poetry.” Sam hummed after catching his breath. You hoisted yourself up, using your hands to keep you propped up.

Sure enough, the word you had so delicately drawn out was unrecognizable. A smear of red painted both of your chests. You frowned.

“Guess I’ll have to reapply.” You teased, almost promising to mark him again. This was better than hickeys, Sam decided. The mental image of you scribbling out the same word over and over had him thrusting back into you. The night carried on with a stew of moans and promises to be each other’s “mine”s forever.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl

party girl taglist : @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami

[studioeisa]

hitting the brakes.

★ footnotes: fan fiction of fan fiction? likelier than you think (2). nobody perceive this because it is entirely for @diamonddaze01, in retaliation for invisible string and gratitude for her pedal to the metal series, which has been the gift that keeps on giving. word count: 1.3k

You’re seething. Fuming so hard that you’re convinced you’ll see red.

Ferrari red, your husband might even tease you, but that’s beside the point. Right now, your attention is fully on the smirking McLaren driver sitting opposite you. 

Kim Mingyu is a vision to behold in his nylon orange race suit. He doesn’t look like somebody that just got an earful over the radio, which was already the talk of the media briefing room. Mingyu has done it again, the journalists had whispered to one another. Pissed off his race engineer to the point that she threatened to quit. 

If there’s anything you know about Mingyu, though, it’s that he’s always had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude. Why else would he make such a death-defying overtake in the final lap? 

It’d been the kind of move that could have cost someone their car, their career, their life. And yet Mingyu persisted, lunging into a gap that barely existed after Jeonghan had taken the racing line into the penultimate turn. 

McLaren dove up the inside. Jeonghan slammed on the brake to avoid contact. You swear your heart stopped in your chest when the Ferrari wobbled, kissing the rumble strip as Mingyu shot past. Half a second more, half a centimeter closer, and it would have been a disaster.

Mingyu had snatched a podium finish from Jeonghan against the advice of his engineer, and now you had to grill him on it. 

You weren’t mad that Jeonghan finished P4. This was the name of the game, after all. If anything, you were pissed that Mingyu— your friend since childhood— had done something so utterly stupid. 

But you’re not here to tell him off, no matter how much you want to. No, you’ve got a job to do, and you’re reminded of it as you hold the Sky Sports microphone out for Mingyu. 

“The overtake on the final lap,” you say, jumping right into business, “it was aggressive, risky. Some might even call it reckless.” 

Mingyu doesn’t flinch. “It won me the race.” 

You don’t let him off easy. You never have, and you’re not about to start today. “It could have ended badly,” you insist. 

There’s a flicker of something— a preemptive apology, you realize later— on Mingyu’s expression. It belays the casualness of his next words, the fact he speaks without missing a beat. 

“I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife at home.” 

Kim Mingyu is damn lucky the cameras are rolling. If he tried to pull that shit with you at any other time, you would have jumped out of your seat and socked him in the face. 

Your fingers flex around your microphone. The light catches on the golden wedding band, adding salt to the wound that Mingyu has so mercilessly cut into you. 

One might think it to be a little cruel. Just last week, Mingyu was among those who raised a toast to you and Jeonghan. He got so wine drunk that his coat ended up in the pool— a story for another time— and he tearfully told the two of you how happy he was, to see his close friend and ‘one of the best drivers he knew’ finally, finally married.

And so it may look like a bit of a cheap shot— this reminder that Jeonghan now had a reason for restraint. That you were the wife waiting at home. 

As much as it is a low blow, you also know that Mingyu is just stating a fact. You’re torn between defending Jeonghan and disparaging Mingyu, but neither of those demons win. You have a job to do, you repeatedly tell yourself, as you clear your throat and shove the microphone just a little more into Mingyu’s personal space. 

“Next question,” you go on, just a hint of flint now sparking in your tone. 

“‘I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife at home’? Are you kidding me? Do you hear yourself when you talk, or does the sound of your own engine drown out common sense?”

“Jesus Christ—” 

“You could’ve taken him out. You could’ve taken yourself out. But no, you had to pull that reckless, brainless, ‘McLaren-puts-all-their-budget-into-social-media’ move and pray to whatever racing gods you believe in that it worked.” 

A sharp laugh. This time, from Jeonghan. 

“And then, you sit there in that press room, all smug like you just orchestrated the greatest masterstroke in F1 history, when really, you just proved you’ve got the survival instincts of a fruit fly and the decision-making skills of McLaren’s pit wall.” 

“A lot to say about my team, huh?” 

“Shh,” says Jeonghan. “She’s still not done.” 

“You don’t get to say things like that, Mingyu. Not to me. Not about him. Not when you’re out there driving like you’ve got nine lives and an unlimited spare parts budget.”

“We do, though,” notes Mingyu. 

“Oh, shut up and listen.” 

“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I hope you enjoy the sight of Ferrari’s rear wing, because that’s all you’ll be seeing for the rest of the season.” You pause. “Drive safe, dumbass.” 

The scathing voicemail ends. Mingyu vaguely feels like he got physically beat up, but you’ve always had that effect on him, anyway— a unique ability to drag him through the mud. Still, it’s a small grace that you’ve ended on a somewhat caring note. It goes to show that you’re not entirely out to wring his neck just yet. 

Your husband doesn’t seem to think he deserves the same courtesy. 

“She should’ve ended at the ‘Ferrari rear wing’ jab,” Jeonghan quips as he absentmindedly twirls the remnants of alcohol at the bottom of his glass. “I would’ve also shit on you for thinking being a ‘calculated risk’ is a personality trait.” 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. You and Jeonghan were such menaces to deal with. 

Years of being on the same grid has at least somewhat steeled Jeonghan to Mingyu’s impetuousness. It’s the only reason the two drivers are able to still grab a drink with each other in good faith, the race that happened earlier in the afternoon now an added bullet point to their years worth of rivalry. 

Mingyu moves to order another beer, but Jeonghan shakes his head. 

“What?” Mingyu whines. “It’s only—” He spares a quick glance at his wristwatch. “Half past ten.” 

There’s an easy grin on Jeonghan’s face as he gets to his feet. Somehow, Mingyu already knows the answer before it comes. 

“Right,” the Ferrari driver drawls. “But, as you so kindly pointed out— I’ve got a wife to go home to.” 

A low groan crawls its way out of Mingyu’s throat. “You’re no fun,” he grumbles. 

Jeonghan gives a wordless pat to his pocket. Mingyu doesn’t even have to know what he’s referring to. Everybody is aware of the polaroid picture wedged safely in Jeonghan’s wallet, the one featuring you and him at Baku’s Old City. 

Left to his own devices, Mingyu resists the urge to fish for his phone. He has a race engineer to apologize to— or maybe an apology is generous. He could tease her, hit her with something like Did you see that? I pulled it off, didn’t I? after her advice to not drive within an inch of his life. 

There’s a weight pressing on Mingyu’s chest, one he wants to deem guilt for what he said to you. Hell, he’ll even dub it crash-out from his maneuver. 

He’ll call it everything but what it really is.

That pang of knowing no one is praying for his safety, the same way all the other devoted girlfriends and wives might be.

That gnaw of finding comfort in his race engineer’s fury— because at least that means someone cares for him, even in some roundabout way. 

That ache of loneliness. Plain and simple. 

Mingyu raises his hand and asks for the bill.

[rafesgirl-14]

also another request, no pressure! but maybe a smutty fit with stepbro rafe x naive reader and she just does whatever he says!

A/n: hope you enjoy 💖

Warnings: oral (male receiving), dacryphilia, degrading, all 18+

Naive Girl

About two years ago, your mother had married Ward and ever since then you’d lived at Tannyhill. It had become a common habit for you to wait around Rafe’s room since then as he’d convinced you of how ‘mean’ everyone else in the family are and how they hide it.

Rafe walks in after his shower, his bottom half only covered by a towel and a smirk across his lips. He liked how dependent you were with him. Rafe had always found kook girls too demanding and he would’ve never thought of dating a pogue but you were perfect for him. He smirked at the sight of you in a matching pyjama shorts and tank top set, sitting on his bed like a present all wrapped up.

“Ray, I need y’help.” You say with an innocent smile. Everything about you was so damn innocent and Rafe loved that fact. “Pope asked me on a date f’tonight and I don’t know what to wear.”

“A pogue asked you out?” Rafe’s gaze darkened almost immediately, he knew was going to have to lay the manipulation on thick if he wanted to keep you as his. “Kid, y’know it’s probably not a good idea to be out so late, especially with a pogue, y’never know what could happen.”

“But Pope is sweet, he asked me out to this party down on the beach.” You attempt to defend, looking up at Rafe from your place on his bed. No matter how much he tried, you’d never see the bad in anyone. Rafe classed this as a curse and a godsend since you’d never question him.

“A party, kid? D’ya know how dangerous that is?” Rafe mocks cares. He didn’t care how dangerous a party with alcohol and all sorts of other substances, he cared about keeping you to himself. “Baby, ‘m looking out f’ya. I don’t wanna hear on the news tomorrow that my favourite little sister got drugged and murdered, ‘kay?”

“It wouldn’t go that far, Ray, I swear. ‘M old enough to take care of myself.” You whine, standing up to try and gain some level in this argument but it was a fruitless attempt.

“Hey, kid! Listen t’me, you’re not going to that party and you’re going to text that pogue that you won’t be seeing him again, understood?” Rafe says sternly, his index finger and thumb gripping at your plush cheeks. “Get your damn phone and text him now.”

You shyly reach for your phone, feeling bad as you go onto messages. You’d really wanted to go on this date and wished you’d just called one of your friends for outfit advice. ‘I’m sorry, Pope, I won’t be able to come tonight. I hope you still have fun with your friends tho 💖’ you send the text.

“Good girl. Now, y’gonna make it up to me after stressing me like this?” He smirks, resting a hand against your waist. Rafe knew you’d do anything to please him, that was your fatal flaw. “C’mon, baby, get on your knees f’me.”

Obediently, you crawl to rest on your knees in front of him. You can now clearly see the dent through the towel that covers his bottom half. You were far too innocent for your own good which gave Rafe the opportunity to use that innocence whenever he pleased. It all began when you told him that you’d never had your first kiss so he ‘kindly’ offered to teach you.

You look up at Rafe with big doe eyes and a naive smile as he tugged the towel off, leaving himself bare in front of you. Rafe knew damn well that you’d never be able to take all of him but he could still try and make you.

“Go on, baby, y’know what to do.” He smirks down at you as you shyly bring your lips around his cock. It all felt so vulgar but you did it nonetheless. You just wanted to make your stepbrother proud. Hesitantly, you begin trying to take a bit more at a time but it was clearly taking too long in Rafe’s opinion.

His fingers lace through your hair, pushing your head down to take more of him with a soft gag. You can’t protest due to having your mouthful even as you attempt to pull away slightly. Rafe was in control and he knew that.

“Such a dumb girl, can’t even take my cock without gagging like a little whore.” Rafe mocks with a smirk, beginning to just use your throat, “I thought my little sister was a good girl but I guess not. Bad girl.”

“R- Ray..” you try to mumble around how cock, feeling tears water at his words. Rafe knew you well enough that one way to make you a sobbing mess was a little degradation. He loved the sight of you crying over his cock.

“Shut up, this is what you get for thinking you can go on a date with a dirty pogue. You gotta learn your fuckin’ lesson.” Rafe practically growls, continuing to harshly use your throat, all he could hear was your soft gags and whimpers around his cock. He knew this was too much for you but couldn’t bring himself to care.

“It’s like you.. you’re asking f’this. Coming in ‘ere, practically begging me to ruin you. Be happy I’m not taking your pretty little ass over my lap.” He degrades, keeping a tight grip on your hair. With each rough thrust, he gets closer to coming. He can’t help himself as he lets out one more groan and suddenly you are tasting the familiar bitter taste.

“Fuckin’ swallow.” He snarls, pulling out of your mouth before you obediently swallow.

With big doe eyes, you look up at Rafe from your place on the ground in front of him. You part your lips as proof you’d swallowed, a little bit of the white liquid remaining on your lips. Your cheeks are stained with tears and your lips all puffy. Rafe can’t help himself from grabbing for his phone and getting a picture of the sight.

“You step out of line again and I’m sending this to those pogues, got it?” He smirks down at you, expression softening as you shakily nod. “C’mere, kid.” He smile slightly, gesturing for you to cuddle up with him on the bed. That was all it took for you to climb up on the bed with Rafe. You knew the moment he returns to calling you ‘kid’ then he’s in a good mood.

“Good girl.”

[watermelonsloth]

Hiruzen and Danzo are more complicated than people give them credit for

It says it all in the title.

Hiruzen and Danzo are among the most hated characters in all of Naruto, and I’m not entirely removed from that crowd of haters. They’re probably among the easiest characters you can argue are just bad people. Or, at minimum, people who did horrendous, unjustifiable things (or allowed them to happen in Hiruzen’s case). However, I think that because people hate them so much, no one wants to take a closer look at their characters and the more complicated/human reasons why they make the choices they do.

Hiruzen is spineless and that’s a hill I’ll die on, but he’s spineless in one of these most sympathetic and realistic ways I’ve seen depicted in media. Specifically, he’s the walking talking representation of the fallibility of compassion. Hiruzen cares about so many people so deeply that he would rather stand by and let people get hurt than to hurt them himself. He ignores the fact Danzo keeps trying to kill him because he knows he’ll likely have to execute him as retribution and he doesn’t want to kill his best friend, he turns a blind eye to Orochimaru’s dark side because he doesn’t want to fight/kill his student, Tsunade isn’t labeled a rogue ninja because he doesn’t want to put a bounty on his student/mentor’s granddaughter’s head, he let the Hizashi situation and Uchiha Massacre happen because he didn’t want to risk subjecting his people to the horrors of war that he experienced, and he died because he couldn’t bring himself to go all out against his mentors (even if they were reanimated and emotionless versions) or student.

I’m not defending Hiruzen’s actions or lack thereof. Obviously, this is a deeply flawed way to go about life, especially as a leader of a country where you have to regularly make difficult trolly-problem decisions. But Hiruzen is meant to be a deeply flawed individual. He’s like the family of an abuser that refuses to properly step in to stop the abuse because they love the abuser and don’t want to face the idea that the abuser is a bad person. I’m not saying Hiruzen is a good person or in the right, I’m just saying he’s realistic.

If Hiruzen is “the few over the many”, then Danzo is “the many over the few” with a sprinkle of “the ends always justify the means”. Danzo is, at his core, someone who is always trying to do what’s best for the village. He turned Hanzo against the Akatsuki to keep the group from gaining too much power and becoming another threat to Konoha (keeping in mind that Amegakure is adjacent to the Land of Fire), he pushed for the Uchiha Massacre to keep a civil war from breaking out, he killed the messenger toad to keep Naruto away from Konoha and the nine tails out of Pain’s grasp. He created ROOT to make sure that Konoha had a back up fighting force that was highly trained, wouldn’t turn against the village, and were willing to do what even ninja wouldn’t. Even Danzo’s choice to essentially turn on the village by trying to kill Hiruzen was motivated by him trying to do what he thought was best for the village. After all, he knew better than anyone how bad of a Hokage Hiruzen was.

A lot of people oversimplify Danzo into “the selfish, corrupt asshole”—and while I can agree that he’s selfish and corrupt, he’s selfish and corrupt in very specific ways. The corruption is the most obvious and easiest to explain. Danzo is willing to do anything he thinks will benefit the village; that includes working with bad people and using backhanded tactics. As for his selfishness, it stems from one specific thing: Tobirama telling Hiruzen to become Hokage over him.

For a while I was confused why Danzo got a flashback flashbacked to this scene before he died. Now, I think I’ve settled on it being because the scene was at the core of Danzo’s character and greatest character flaws because it was also his greatest regret. It’s pretty clear that Danzo wants to become Hokage and it’s implied that he’s had this dream for a long while. However, Tobirama—his mentor, the former Hokage, and one of the people to define what it meant to be Hokage—chose Hiruzen over him. Because Hiruzen was willing to sacrifice himself for his comrades while Danzo, who knew he should’ve done the same, was too cowardly to offer himself up.

Then he never really grows out of that cowardice. Instead, he looks down on Hiruzen to cope with his own sense of inferiority, gives himself body modifications to become a stronger ninja more capable of defending the village, and obtains as much political power as he can. He remains a coward who prefers letting other people take the fall over fighting his own battles (setting up Hanzo to fight the Akatsuki, asking Orochimaru to kill Hiruzen, ordering Itachi to kill the Uchiha clan, etc.) right up until he uselessly “sacrifices” himself right before he was going to die anyways.

Most of Danzo’s selfish actions come down to him not being able to accept his failure at becoming Hokage while also refusing to learn from his mentor’s final lesson.

I honestly think that Naruto has some of the best representation of bad people simply because it consistently acknowledges two things about bad people: 1. People who do bad things usually do them because they grew up being taught that doing bad things were okay or necessary to survive (being abused, societal normalization, never being punished, early exposure to things like domestic violence, etc.) and 2. Even if they don’t necessarily think they’re good people, the large majority of people don’t think they’re bad or evil. Both Hiruzen and Danzo were raised by a generation haunted by war only to be thrust into two world wars themselves (one at a young age and one when they were older). This left them both traumatized and willing to do anything to avoid experiencing it again. And even if they acknowledge that they’ve made mistakes, they still don’t (seem to) see themselves as bad people, only people who are committing the lesser of two evils.

[demonic0angel]

Ok! Spoiler warning ship. Where Wes explains why he hates Danny. No one will believe him that fenton is phantom.

Steph looks him dead in the eye, takes a deep breath. Then explains to him in a dead serious tone how stupid and dangerous that is, not only to the hero, but him and everyone else too.

(It's funny that you ask me this. Just wait for tomorrow lmaooo)

"I know that. I was fourteen." Wes crossed his arms and looked away, glaring at nothing. "It doesn't mean that I can't hate Phantom."

Steph raised a finger and opened her mouth, ready to defend Phantom when she paused and reconsidered. Then she asked, "If you know that it was dangerous, why do you still hate him? Did he do something to you?"

"Yes!" Wes spat. "Even though I was fourteen and stupid, you know what he would do? He would transform in front of me and gloat that no one believed me! Like, I get that he had a secret identity but he laughed in my face because he thought it was funny that everyone thought I was lying! Not even my family— my brothers believed me! I was called 'the Crazy Weston' for years in high school!"

Steph pursed her lips. As a vigilante, she understood the importance of secret identities and Wes had almost purposefully endangered the lives of others by trying to reveal Phantom's. But it was true that Wes had only been fourteen when he found out, and Danny had no right to tease him when he should've just explained properly.

"... okay, I get that." She scooted over to press against him. Wes didn't react, still looking irritated. Steph continued, "But aren't you two friends now? I guess I find it weird that you still hate him after so long, especially when you guys help each other so much."

"I don't really care about Phantom. Danny is just an asshole," Wes growled.

Steph did not voice the fact that Wes could also occasionally be an asshole.

Wes must've noticed because he went silent and then he said, "But we're fine now or whatever. I have blackmail on him that I can use and he lets me do it. I'll protect him because he's a hero from my world and because he's our King, but I don't care if I'm rude or not. He owes me for those years of hell in high school."

Stephanie shrugged and then smiled, pressing herself against him again. "Well, it's not like I can say anything about your relationship with him. I just wanted to make sure you know about the importance of secret identities."

"I don't want to hear that from you, Miss Spoiler," Wes said, rolling his eyes but he uncurled his arms and then wrapped one around her, pulling her closer to kiss her hair.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, just cuddling and enjoying each other's presence. Learning something new about each other was always fascinating. Steph suddenly sighed.

"Y'know, I don't know how I didn't realize before, but you're really petty."

"Excuse me? I'll have you know that I—"

Wes began to rant and Steph couldn't help but laugh at his indignation. In the end, he attacked her with angry kisses until she was shrieking with laughter.

Her boyfriend may be petty and vindictive, but at the very least, he was all hers.

(Note: I actually love how the fandom characterize Wes and I especially LOVE how hostile Wes can be. People don't seem to realize that they created the perfect character to be a villain bc let's not forget that since Kyle Weston is headcanoned to be Jazz's age, Wes is in the perfect position to threaten Danny's loved ones, especially with how Danny seems to tease him a lot (which is probably infuriating). I imagine that Wes and Danny have a frenemy relationship (that is a little one-sided), but they will help each other if need to be. Imo, with how the phandom characterizes them both interacting, they are BOTH in the wrong.)

[urween]

If Logan Howlett/Wolverine was your partner. ENGLISH VERSION french here

notes : GN!reader + adjusted passages for AFAB/AMAB (assigned female to birth/assigned male at birth). English isn't my first language, so tell me if you see mistakes ;)

⚠︎ warnings : sexual aspects (oral, fluff), war, violence, insecurities, jealousy, alcohol, cigar

2 065 words

Global

smell is very important for him, he doesn’t like when you change your shampoo or face cream, and he is always sulky for days because of it.

in the same range, if he smells his cologne on you, he becomes a bit feral, growling in your neck and biting your skin.

he’s highly jealous, even if he doesn’t make it obvious. He’s more like contain himself, telling himself he shouldn't think that way, until it explodes and he’s pin on the floor the man who made you laugh.

furthermore, he lets you defend yourself, he intervenes only when he feels like you need to, or if you ask him.

same at home when you got a project in mind, like a furniture to build or a wall to paint, he will ask you if you need his help but if you don’t, he’ll not insist. He’ll always be in the same room though, to catch a photo framer or just look at you.

he is proud of you, and he says it a lot. When you finish a personal project, he’s always the first to hold you and say how proud he is.

sometimes you think he has a shitty memory, ‘cause he forgets the evening with your mutual friends or that milk is missing in the fridge. But when it is about you, he remembers everything. Often it’s him that reminds you about your board games evening with Ororo or even your medical appointments. So, he doesn’t have a shitty memory, he retains only what is important to him.

he would love to be able to fall asleep on you, but his weight doesn’t allow him to, because of the adamantium which makes him too heavy. So you try to cuddle him on your side by holding him tight against your chest, and you know that he loves it as much as you do.

the both of you made a lot of jokes, most of the people don’t understand why you are laughing out loud and it pleases you, it’s between you two.

you love to spend your days with him, but sometimes he pushes you to go out with your friends ‘cause he doesn’t want you to isolate yourself because of him. But you always find a way to bring a little something that belongs to him with you, like a scarf or a jacket or a love bite.

he took time to share his feelings, a long time. But now you two can talk about every subject, and in the end he’s quite talkative.

you love to give him nicknames, in fact you give him a lot and he remembers every single one.

he give you nicknames too, but there are only a few ‘cause they are meaningful for the two of you. Even if of course, “bub” is the most used since the beginning of your relationship.

he smells a lot of things, with his smell but also much more with “his instinct” like you loved to name it. Of course he smells when a disaster's gonna happen and things like that, but he can also smell when you have a health issue, or any type of intern change, he smells it. He smells when you’re sad, when you’re hurt, when you’re overthinking, when you want to jump on his cock.

he doesn’t give a shit about a lot of things, really a lot. You don’t shave yourself ? He doesn’t care. You fart or burp ? He doesn’t care. One time, you were in a really bad condition and the pain was so hard that you couldn't wash yourself for four days, and guess what ? He didn't give a damn, all that mattered for him was your recovery. He is so comfortable with this, that sometimes he helps you shave yourself and he even enjoys it, so you don’t cut yourself.

you two live quite away from the city, in a quiet place and a bit lost, but that means you are in peace, without noisy neighborhoods or attacks on every street corner.

Sexual life

your pleasure is his priority, in everydays life like sexual one. He can spend hours torturing you without touching himself once. In fact, he often forgets his own pleasure so much he loves hearing you scream his name under him. It is your job to pin him on the mattress and take off his clothes, even if he says that he is ok and that he can handle the pain. But you just have to look at him with your doll eyes and say something like “please, it makes me high to suck your cock” and he becomes hot as the sun.

about that, he loves blowjobs but he’ll never ask for it, fortunately you can recognize the signs.

FOR AFAB : everytime he tells you how much he loves when you get wet quickly for him. And he loves making this wet audible while making huge movements with fingers/tongue/cock/toy, he also loves when you blush because of these noises.

FOR AMAB : he loves to titillate you until your precum drips all over your dick, and he also loves the noises your body makes, so if he has to speed up his movements to make these noises louder, he will without any hesitation.

when he cums, he’ll do everything to let his knuckles away from your body, ‘cause he is always scared to not contain himself and that his claws go out.

same when he has freaky nightmares, he’ll force himself to stay on his tummy with hands under his pillow.

he is the opposite of sauvage. He already spent an entire hour just kissing your body and smelling your perfume. I mean, he is always so rude and rough in everyday life, the bedroom is the only place when he takes his time and enjoys every single moment with you like it was the last one.

despite this, it happens that your intimate moments are much more eventful. When you spend a long time away from each other, or when a jealousy peak comes in the day.

he’s kinda from the old days, he doesn’t have weird kinks, he just loves being with you. He has absolutely experience, but he always says that public sex or dirty talk were not his things. However, if it is you that proposes something new, like a toy or an outfit, he will always be part of it, and with a massive pleasure.

he is very attentive, and sometimes he prefers to slow down and even stop, because he feels and sees like you got something bulky in your head.

in the same way, he loves to know what you feel : he loves to ask you if you like what he’s doing, where he presses, the position you are in.

Everyday life moments

he loves when you sit on him, wherever it’s his chest or his hips or his face. If there are five seats, the only one you allow to sit on is his lap.

if you need to test something, he is always volunteering. For example, when you buy your face cream or makeup, he always ends up with about ten different cosmetic products spread out on his hand and arm.

when the both of you go shopping, he always makes a way to carry the heaviest bags without you realizing it.

he’ll always say yes if you want to visit another shop, even if it is almost night or freezing outside. Sometimes it’s even him that suggests you go to a store because he saw the look you gave to this storefront.

you often make him laugh when you come up with old objects/songs/expressions that he knew decades ago.

he doesn’t like when you say that but he really has cat similarities. When he’s against you, he curls up and wedges his face against your belly. And you can swear that you heard a purr coming out his throat, may it was only a growl, but it was in any way really cute.

he listens to old music, unexceptional for his age, and it always makes you smile when you see him sing quietly the lyrics that maybe your grandpa could have sung.

you always ask to taste or test what he is drinking/eating, unfortunately for you it’s often very strong in mouth (spice, alcohol, meat).

when he buys new cigars, you always ask to try one drag even if you don't like the taste. But you know it makes him happy to see that you try things he loves, even if he avoids making you taste too often ‘cause he doesn’t want you to start smoking because of him.

you two have the habit of going for a long ride on his bike, when you feel a bit overwhelmed by some events or just life.

he loves winter, above all the seasons, and he can spend his day out just looking at the falling snowflakes.

Vulnerability

he frequently has nightmares, all violent and traumatic. In that case, he leaves the bed and goes to get some air, because he doesn't want you to see him angry or sad. But you always wake up, sometimes you let him alone ‘cause you know he needs it, and other times you take him in your arms.

he cries more than he admits, often after his nightmares. You know he doesn’t like it, even if you say that crying is beautiful, he just can’t feel that way for himself. So you pretend not to see his tears, you kiss his head and take him against your chest. The day after, he always thanks you, with words or actions.

when you have bad days, he smells it and he does everything to make you feel better. He even went to another city for some apple/cinnamon chocolate ‘cause you mention it.

Entourage

he doesn’t have family, or at least not blood ties, but Charles and all the team take a big place in Logan’s heart, even if he doesn’t say it.

you two often go for several weeks in the manor, you love to see a safe place open for every mutant and Logan needs to come back there sometimes, it’s kinda the only home he never has (with you, of course).

Charles is so kind with you, he immediately loves your person and he doesn’t forget to say that to Logan.

you and Ororo are good friends, she becomes a bit like a sister for you.

Logan told you about his tricky relationship with Cyclops and you could see with your own eyes, they constantly send each other peaks.

he also spoke about Jean, and honestly, at first you don’t like talking about her, you were afraid that he may still love her. But quickly, you realize that it was over between them, it was only a really big crush but he meets you and no one equals you, his words.

twice, you saw Magneto in the garden playing chess with Charles, but you preferred not to get involved, Logan doesn’t like Magneto too and apparently it is mutual.

the x-men kinda became like a second family for you, they immediately welcomed you and you’ll forever be grateful for that.

the first time Logan brought you here, everybody looked at you two with frog eyes. The pupils had a hard time believing that Wolverine was in a relationship, but it is.

Sentences that scream "Logan"

I’m proud of you

You need somethin’ ?

On my lap bub

SHE/HER READER : I know you can open this jar alone, since you are “a big girl”, but i want to open it for ya

HE/HIM READER : I know you can open this jar alone, since you are “a big boy”, but i want to open it for ya

Somebody hurt you ? Tell me

Movie ? Seat down, i take blankets

Hot chocolate ?

Come here, come in my arms darl’

SEXUALITY

You feel it ? Tell me that ya feel how you’re shakin’ for me

God, look at you, fuckin’ beautiful

Never ever someone’ll see you like that huh ?

Say it, say my name darling

Fuck, do it again, do it for me beautiful

° x-men masterlist

gifs : @/asgardswinter

bannière : @/saradika-graphics and @/thecutestgrotto