#can take care of me when i can instead do it now like i already have a letter from my therapist and consultations upcoming

[mageofmadness]

CALEB + HOLE INSPECTION

(1.8k) ₊˚⊹ 𐙚🧸‧₊˚ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader, jealous!caleb, questionable morals, cheating (not on caleb it's just a shitty bf), hole inspections, virginity kink if you squint, dirty talk real filthy, side eyeing yandere caleb for the mention of broken fingers and kneecaps, fingering, pet names (I'll die by the hill of pips)

caleb who is selfish.

he wants you all to himself, and he doesn’t care what it takes or how bad of a person that makes him. he’ll do anything to have you. caleb will stoop to whatever depths, so when you start going on dates with this new guy, he wishes he was conflicted but he’s not.

he’s never tried to be a good guy, not when it comes to you. fair? sure, he thinks he’s quite fair. just? yeah, he has morals like anyone else, but when it comes to you? all bets are off and he will play dirty. there’s simply no other way to play when the stakes are this high and you.

caleb who has been climbing into bed with you almost every night for years.

surely that’s not meant to stop now, right? that just seems cruel and even more selfish than what he’s got going on because caleb can’t sleep if he’s not next to you, and you tell him the same thing, so why do you need to go on dates with this guy? what’s the point? you still kiss caleb goodnight, sometimes missing his cheek and sometimes it’s closer to the corner of his mouth. you still curl up with him on the couch and wear his sweaters around the house, something he watched carefully to see a change in, but things between you and him are the same, so surely you're not about to take all of that from him now? all because of some guy you met at work?

yet, said guy won’t leave, and caleb does not like it. he deals, he manages, but he does not like sharing because, once again, he is selfish.

caleb who meets the guy for the first time and instantly hates him. not even because he’s taking you out, it’s because he’s spineless. a boy that couldn’t even look him in the eyes to shake hands. a boy—plain and simple. caleb can’t help but feel bad for the guy, really, considering he’s taking you on a date, but you’ll come home to caleb at the end of the night and curl up with caleb in bed.

caleb is not above any of this because this guy is fleeting, he has to be. he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you like or want or need. not the way caleb does.

caleb who is waiting up for you when you come home.

it’s been a few months of dates with this guy, but caleb still gets his corner of the mouth kiss every other night, and last night he fell asleep to the feeling of your soft thigh thrown over his middle, so it should be fine, right? instead you come home in tears, and his first instinct is to break the man’s hands. he needs to start with the fingers, then maybe his wrists.

“pips, what’s wrong?”

you’re adamant it’s nothing. that nothing happened and you’re overreacting and caleb thinks sure, you can overreact sometimes but everyone can and that’s what he’s here for: to understand and react accordingly as well. but he cannot do that, caleb cannot protect you, if you do not tell him what’s wrong. sitting in his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck, he can’t understand what you’re mumbling. it comes out like something is wrong with me, which surely cannot be the case. caleb must have heard wrong. 

“something is wrong with you?” you nod. “nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. why are you saying that?” caleb takes a deep breath. “you gotta tell me what’s happening or i can’t help.”

by the time caleb listens to the half-mumbled words you manage to get out around an errant sniffles, he’s already decided hands, wrist, and kneecaps will need to be broken to atone for this because that guy has some nerve insinuating there’s a single thing wrong with you. just because you didn’t want to kiss him? or, you tell caleb that you were fine kissing him, but when he tried to take things further, that’s when there were issues.

honestly, it takes everything in caleb not to scoff. the guy's more of a coward than he had initially gauged if he thought he a) deserved more than a kiss, first of all, and b) something is wrong with you because when he shoved his hand down your pants you weren't wet.

the guy doesn't exactly sound like a romeo.

“i don’t trust him,” caleb says plainly. “i never did. you deserve better, and i should have never let you walk out of that door.” you only sniffle and caleb tampers down his anger and tries again. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know that?” nothing again, and caleb sighs. finally, “do you trust me?”

you nod, arms tightening around his neck.

“he touched you here?” caleb asks. his hand skates around your hip. you squirm in his lap but give him a small yes when his fingers dip between your thighs. “just touched or…”

nothing else, you’re adamant and caleb trusts you explicitly, but his blood is boiling hot and he just…he needs to be sure. caleb sits up, and you hmph, but he shushes you. he needs you to know there’s not a thing wrong with you, that this isn’t a you issue. he smooths his hand over the hem of your dress that rides up the back of your thighs when he moves, draping you over his lap this time, ass up.

“were you going to fuck him?” caleb gets a gut wrenching maybe in response as he marvels at the silky smooth expanse of the back of your legs. so, so pretty. “why?” he unfairly demands. “you liked him that much?”

you shake your head, breathing heavy against his thighs. “no, just wanted to know…what it felt like.”

“that’s what i’m here for, pips.” he says, waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. you gasp as he rucks up your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he groans at the sight of bright red panties, the curve of your ass settled pretty over his lap about to be his undoing. “you know that right? tell me you know that.” he pleads. "can i touch you?"

"please."

caleb wastes no time. he thumbs at your hole, over the red lace that's wet under his touch. “you ever fuck yourself, sweetheart?”

you whine his name in embarrassment, but eventually nod. he groans, imagining you in bed or the shower with your fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt. maybe while he's in the other room, or maybe in the shower right before you crawl into bed with him.

“good girl,” he mumbles and feels you relax more. “but what's all this about?” caleb pulls his thumb back, and pops it in his mouth. he groans. “thought he was adamant something was wrong and this pussy doesn’t get wet.” caleb tsks but sighs in relief when he realizes they guy really didn't get this far. “doesn’t seem a problem to me, so, then what is it? tell me the difference here, pips.”

he hears you stammer out "y–you, caleb," and feels satisfaction like a bat to the back of the head, making him dizzy. concussing him. caleb's fingers trace over edges of lace and soft skin. “so pretty, baby. will you sit still while i take a look?”

“why?”

“nothing is wrong, sweetheart. i just want to make sure he didn't hurt this pretty hole.”

he feels you shiver, and caleb can't help but grin.

that guy didn't stand a chance.

he slowly drags your underwear down, discarding them in his pocket for safe keeping. what greets him when he looks back is the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, actually. it’s jaw-dropping, and wet. so clearly wet from the way it looks, sticky and peeking out between plush thighs over his lap.

“my heart, pips, i cant take it.” caleb says as he grips your hips, then your ass. watching your skin bloom pink as he spreads you open to see more. “hold still. i know you know that you can ask anything of me, so if this hole is needy, you come to me now, understood?”

"you need someone to take care of you, not someone that's going to shove his hands down your pants and expect anything, got it?"

he spreads your pussy open, watching as it twitches under his touch and when he presses a finger against your hole, it gives easily. "tight and greedy," he tsks.

caleb cannot help but tease. your pussy is perfect and untouched. he plays with it, watching you respond. watching as you jump when he pushes just the tip of two fingers in. pink and so sweet, caleb's mouth waters. "she's so pretty, sweetheart. i do think we're gonna have an issue though. i dunno if i can fit into a tiny hole like this." he hooks his finger and uses it to stretch you open and you moan his name. "don't get fussy. we'll figure it out, pips."

he watches as you whimper and moan, working yourself into a near fit over the prodding of his fingers. the way he spreads you open, leaning close and letting his breath ghost over your twitching hole. watching for your reactions and never giving you enough.

“doesn't even seem like i need to train this little hole to only get wet for me, hm? seems she’s already taken care of that herself."

"you're so soft, sweetheart.”

"can i make you come? looks like you need it." he kisses the back of your head, and then your shoulder. mumbling, "promise I'll take such good care of you. how could i not? i've got the sweetest thing in my lap right now, all wet and whining...mhm, you are whining, pips, but that's okay. just let me..."

after readjusting your hips, you easily take two of his fingers, all the way to the knuckle and instead of imginging you doing this to yourself, caleb watches as his own fingers disappear into your cunt. you're a needy thing, too, and he groans. imagining you struggling to take his cock but you would because you're, "so good, baby. so good for me, just like that. does that feel good?"

watching as your thighs fall further apart, as you start to cry for him. for more. for him to kiss you, and caleb does. of course he does. he pulls his fingers out, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he heads for his bed.

"think i'm gonna fuck you, pips," caleb mumbles, bringing a hand down on your ass. you scold him, still limp-legged and breathing heavy. head heavy in the clouds. caleb grins and tosses you onto the bed. "you want that? then we'll have another look at that hole."

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 234.108.120 238.165.187

[littelovelunette]

Ok PLEASE hear me out but Sevika x reader where Sevika does something really fucked up but she doesn't realize how bad it was and thinks reader is just ignoring her because she's being dramatic and bcs they're both stubborn they don't talk for weeks until Sevika is sick of it and rants to Ran probably and she tells sev like "dude.. you fucked up bad bro" and since Sevika is just so desperate for r's attention she does the most dramatic apology every with flowers, all of r's fav stuff, probably even a hose Ran insisted on holding to make it look like she's in the rain (r notices and says hi to Ran) but um yk if you'd like ofc

Messy But She Tries

Contains angst

Toxic!Sevika x Fem!Reader

The night Sevika betrayed you was the night she proved she didn’t trust you.

It had started with an accusation—one she hadn’t even given you the dignity of hearing first.

Instead, you had walked into The Last Drop to find her sitting at a corner table, drink in hand, watching you like a predator waiting for you to step into the trap.

Her grey eyes had that cold, assessing gleam, the one she used when she was deciding whether or not to throw a punch.

“You got something you want to tell me?” she asked, low and even, but something in her tone made the hair on your arms rise.

“What?” you frowned, stepping closer.

She exhaled, shaking her head like she was disappointed.

“Word is, you’ve been talking to the wrong people. Piltover types. Enforcers.”

You froze. “What?”

Sevika leaned forward, flexing the fingers of her mechanical arm. “Funny, right? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn you weren’t that fucking stupid. But here we are.”

Your stomach turned. “You think I’d—”

“I think you’re gonna tell me the truth before I have to make you.”

And that was the moment. The moment you realized she had already made up her mind.

She wasn’t asking. She wasn’t looking for clarity. She had set a test, and in her mind, you had already failed.

It didn’t matter that you had never even looked at an Enforcer, let alone spoken to one. It didn’t matter that you had stayed at her side, through every close call, every late night, every fucking wound you’d patched up after her fights.

None of it mattered.

“Wow,” you laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was hollow. Bitter. “So this is what you think of me?”

Sevika didn’t flinch. “I think I need to be careful about who I trust.”

You clenched your jaw. You could see it in her face—the way she was already shutting down, closing herself off like this was just another job.

Another problem she had to eliminate.

“Then don’t,” you said, your voice quiet. “If you think so little of me, don’t trust me. But just so you know, you can take all those allegations of me, stick them up where the sun don't shine. I am done.”

For a second, just a second, you thought she might say something else. That she might take it back. But instead, she picked up her drink and took another slow sip, watching you over the rim.

Cold. Detached. Like she didn’t care.

Like you didn’t matter.

You walked out.

And she let you.

The first few days were the worst.

You kept expecting her to show up. To stop by your place, lean in the doorway with that cocky smirk, and say something half-assed that wasn’t quite an apology but was close enough to mean she wanted things to be okay.

But she never came.

You used to complain about how she smelled like cigar smoke and metal, how her body heat was too much sometimes—but now?

Now the bed felt too big. Too empty.

And she?

She was fine.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered under her breath, slamming her glass onto the bar.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” Ran drawled from her spot beside her. She leaned back, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Let me guess. This have anything to do with that poor girl you ran off a few weeks ago?”

Sevika exhaled sharply through her nose. “Not talking about it.”

“Uh-huh.” Ran took a slow sip of her drink. “Funny, ‘cause you sure as hell won’t shut up about not talking about it.”

Sevika shot her a glare, but Ran just grinned.

"Look, I'm sick of ignoring her," Sevika finally admitted, rolling her drink between her fingers. “But I’m not crawling back, either.”

Ran snorted. “Dumbass, that’s exactly what you need to do.”

Sevika scowled.

“You accused her of snitching,” Ran reminded her, as if she needed the fucking recap.

“Your GIRLFRIEND! The one who’s had your back since day one. And then, instead of fixing it, you let her walk away. So yeah, sweetheart, if you want her back, you ARE crawling. And you’re gonna do it big.”

Sevika groaned, rubbing her face. “I don’t do ‘big gestures.’”

Ran leaned in, smirking. “Then I guess you won't get her back.”

“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Ran grinned. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

When you heard the doorbell ring, you hadn't expected to see Sevika standing on the other side of the door. But you didn't open the door. Instead, you asked from the other side.

“What do you want?” You asked, arms crossing over your chest.

“Open the door,” Sevika said, voice calculated and calm.

“Can you just fuck off already?” you hissed venomously.

“Not unless you hear me out,” Sevika said, her voice now had an undertone of plea, you could hear that she was genuine so you reluctantly opened the door.

You froze when you saw Sevika holding a fat bouquet of your favourite flowers, they looked so fresh and almost heavenly.

“I'm sorry?” Sevika held up the bouquet alongside a huge box of your favourite chocolates, a few shopping bags were dangling from her wrist.

The biggest grin broke on your lips, you giggled, “This is all for me?”

“Mhm,” Sevika gave you the bouquet which you took a whiff of.

“Fresh,” you smiled up at her, “Thank you,” you said shyly before you frowned a little seeing the sprinkles of water as if it was raining.

You squinted over Sevika's shoulder seeing Ran standing in a distance, she was holding a hose of water towards the sky. Ran waved.

You laughed softly, waving back.

“Does that mean I'm forgiven?” Sevika grumbled.

“Of course,” you hugged her which she gladly returned.

[mourndust]

⋆｡𖦹°‧ safe heaven, ex!girlfriend sevika

side notes — basically after she's injured she has nowhere to go but your place. i always see fics where she's is a psycho ex but i actually think sevika is a lone wolf turned puppy when her heart melts, take it or leave it. masterlist! // requests open ! 2.5k words.

18+ mdni, men go away, thigh grinding, titty love, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation/dumbification blink and miss it, ass play, spit, there are descriptions of a 'wound', but i'm no doctor sorry if you are, blood and injury descriptions, this is kinda filthy i'm not gonna lie but also angst and sad? dunno mixed feelings sadhorny# tell me your thoughts? stop being only a liker and fucking be my mutual ty.

it’s not fair she’s so into you.

makes her weak cause she has to surrender to you in the end, no choices allowed cause she knows, deep down, it's not going to stop as much as she'd like it to. not when you're grinding on her leg like that, when you're coating her skin with your arousal so deliberately, you make her look down just to find out the wet splotch in your underwear getting bigger and bigger with each roll of your hips, the moans filling the air of your living room — sevika has no use but to let you get off from something so simple as riding her thigh, mainly ‘cause it's a personal need too.

"you're takin' good care of me, aren't you sweet girl?" now usually, she does a better work staying away from you, avoiding you as much as it's possible; but it gets difficult when she knocks on your door at three in the morning, bleeding out and capable of tossing her pride aside in no time, whatever cost it may bring. "lift up your shirt and let me see those pretty tits, i deserve to see more of my girl."

well fuck, when did it get so personal?

must be when you have told her not to come near your street several times, a non-spoken rule she respects until she has nowhere to go, opening the door so damn mad she thought you were going to kick her out for a second cause she can help but be a damn flirt around you, leaning into the wall even when she's bleeding — seeking for your attention.

it's always like that when she gets too attached to someone, as much as she tries to avoid it she ends ups carrying them too close to her heart: silco in the moment, crazy ass jinx, that damn kid who’s always following, she gives loyalty like dog, so it's suffocating. cause you don't kick her out like she secretly wishes to, but instead, you push her inside, helping her walk to your sofa as you kneel between her legs, bitching about not being a doctor, about not being able to help her as you look at the cut closely.

and sevika knows she shouldn't have come to see you cause you look so damn inviting it's annoying, alluring with those big eyes you give as you look up to her, the concentrated face as your fingers shake over her skin, helping her out like she asks you to, shivering under her words of encouragement when you're sewing her skin back together after five minutes of pure whining.

it’s safe to say it slowly consumes her, your breathing against her sore skin. does things for her, half delirious for the amount of times she's been trying to excuse herself by saying she's dizzy from blood loss, a fucking lie you can tell already — “stay there for a while” she asks when you finish, cupping your face in the palm of her flesh hand, thumb rubbing against your cheek, tracing the outline of your lips afterwards "there's not a single thing you do wrong huh? not even stitch me up on a lonely friday night."

“what are you doing?”

“you know damn well what i’m doing, bunny. i miss you," everything's so fast after that, her voice is husky as she speaks, playing with the strands of your hair, twirling it in her index finger, relishing the sensation of you close to her once again — "i miss you. fuck i miss you so much it's burning me alive."

it's an old habit, it's enough to make you crumble cause you're allowing her to make you sit on her leg, gasping as the cold metal of her mechanic arm holds you down while the other caress your side without a rush: she has nowhere to be but there, with you on her lap.

you'd like to be difficult now, play hard to get even, but it's so right in the moment, like you've been craving it for weeks you don’t dare to say a single word — "you're going to pull out your stitches like that" you mutter instead, voice raspy when she's moving your hair to the side, sucking on the skin of your neck until she's sure it will leave a mark behind, reminders of all being real. "sev-"

"i can handle pain, i don't care" sevika fully believes it, squeezing the skin of your waist. she missed having you like that — "don’t make up excuses, just tell me to stop. tell me if you want me to leave, cause i won’t do it on my own."

it’s tempting, yet you cannot say it as you stare at her, at her gray eyes, the new haircut and the blueish scar in her cheek: you want her there. "you’re injured, you’re not going anywhere like that."

“no,” she shakes her head in denial, not quite the answer she expected to hear — “tell me you want me to stay cause you want me to, not because of a wound. because you miss me too.”

greedy bitch. she’s enjoying every second of it, knowing damn well she got you under her skin already, that she can get out a response from you every time she puts a finger on your skin. “you know i miss you."

fuck her pride. fuck anything else but the taste of your lips, the sounds you make when you enjoy something too much muffled against sevika’s hungry cavity. it’s almost feverish as her tongue rolls inside your mouth, squeezing your cheeks as she stoles the air from your lungs, your heart racing by the seconds.

that’s how you got to that point at least, cause she's kissing you dumb for a moment and the next one she's holding your ass with a tight grip, pushing you against her just to make you remind her about her stitches, her recent wounded state, but in all honesty she's not really listening to any bitching, no; sevika's deeply lost in her senses, the sight of you getting messier with each one of her kisses, the scent of the bubble-gum induced taste in your mouth mixing up with her own saliva — the engulfed moans that somehow makes you look needier than you already are.

and you're not telling her to leave, not receiving any complain as her flesh hand tugs on the fabric of your shirt like a fair warning that you already know what it means, you're not being rational cause you miss her deeply, so much time needing her you cannot help but give in, even when you'd call yourself insane sooner or later.

"i miss you," it's like a poem sevika wishes to hear over and over again, how you, very much like her, are being thrown at a constant state of aching. "i miss you a lot, and it's not fair. keeping me around like this-"

your hand rest over the stitches you covered with gauze, and fuck, she must be damn tripping, cause you're straddling her lap, shirt riding over your stomach giving her the damn royal treatment and you have the decency of being careful with her, gentle.

no. she does not want to be in love, not ever again, but she's betrayed once again as her silent big heart is choking because she's seeing you again, falling apart like you used to, taking the privilege of something so private for herself, surrendering to an act of pure war and love cause that's what she came for in the first place, you.

"don't move. i can do it for us both," do you have any idea of how difficult it gets for her? with you speaking like that? "please. don't bleed out on my couch. need you alive tomorrow, don't move much."

"you're takin' good care of me, aren't you sweet girl?" — your hips began to move against her tight and it's like you want to show her how much you love grinding on her leg like a fucking puppy, how you missed the pleasure she can only bring, how you been missing her."lift up your shirt and let me see those pretty tits, i deserve to see more of my girl."

she lights the cigarette you were smoking cause she don't want to piss you off, enjoying the simple pleasures of life cause she loves it when you take control, giving you space to remove your shirt only to let her see you fully, the sweat going down your skin, the movements in your waist as you try to ride her better.

hell of a show.

and even as you try to muffle your moans, it's pretty impossible when your underwear sticks to your pussy cause of the stupid amount of arousal that now stains the fabric, the constant contact with her pants that being so sensitive makes you docile, compliant to any of her wishes, the hungry look she gives you comfortably seated, the weight of sevika's gaze traveling from your half lidded eyes down your chest until between your legs, a triumph half-smile on her lips as as the smell of your apple tobacco fills the air.

"you're dripping in my pants baby, can't wait f'me to take them off?" she asks, and her fingers create this line as they touch from your neck to your mount, stopping over your breasts, kneading them in her whole hand — "can't be this wet just for riding me bunny, i haven't even touched you yet. do you miss me that much ma'? miss being my pretty whore?"

she knows where to touch, where to kiss as if she forgot about the damn pain in her sore muscles, like the entire world narrows down to you. the cigarette consumes on the ashtray as she leans to suck on your already hard nipples, tongue roaming from one to another, tugging and biting at her will before you make her breathing hitch on her throat — "stay with me tonight."

it's a bad idea, but your hand guides hers down to your cunt and it's physically impossible for sevika to say no to you, deny your wishes cause she's so down to give you whatever you need, an invitation that makes her chest full of pride as she makes your underwear to the side, quickly coating them with clear gush as they slide between your soaked folds.

"vika-" whatever you might say dies in your tongue, gets lost in the air as two fingers come up to your swollen clit, sensitive already against her touches that do not go past the necessary, a back and forth motion that pushes you tantalizingly close to the edge — "baby."

"want to you feel you through my pants," your hole is clenching around nothing, forcing you to move as her mechanic hand shoves you against her leg. "be good and cum all over your pretty underwear."

your body shakes involuntarily, cause it only takes her muscular thigh, dirty words and her fingers on your clit to make you act up all desperate, a loud moan escaping your lips when finally reach your much desired peak, watching in awe how you disintegrate for a moment and everything seems to become meaningless.

"i cannot touch you with these on," sevika mutters seconds after, not close to having enough as she pulls on the string of your soaked underwear, unusable now as she makes you stand between her legs before she's all over you, struggling to keep the hands to herself as she hugs you, gripping the curve of your ass to pull you against her, face resting right over your waist as your hand caress the black strands of her recently trimmed hair.

you’ve heard it before, the advice you tend to ignore: she’s no good for you, she's no good for you as she makes you turn around, coaxing you with praises only to have you bend right over the waist, when she makes your underwear fall to the ground and you're leaning to bare yourself to her eyes only.

and it makes sevika salivate, needy at it's worst when she can notice your wet folds, the way you're dripping down, creamy white right in your untouched hole, messy and asking for more. your clit’s already puffy, pushing her to just touch, make you beg for more so she's weak, weak as keeps you there, showing your ass like it was all her's to take, warm and pliant as she plunges two fingers inside your needy cunt, slowly making room for her thick digits until she’s stretching you open.

your legs shake as sevika's fingers sink inside, and she's so eager to see, the zaunite finds herself moving to have a better view of the traces of your already wet cunt sticking to her hand, of your pussy already twitching, sucking her back in.

"look at this" the woman trails off, drunk on the sight of you spread in front of her eyes, the bliss when you're looking at her from over your shoulder with a cheeky smile that will stick on her memory — "makin' space for me s'good bunny, can you hear that? the sounds of your cunt taking me perfectly?"

there's no time for answering cause sevika's taking, too high on you, on the reactions of your body as she spreads you open, kissing on your ass cheeks before her face's there and her tongue is pushing against your pucker hole, gathering a good amount of saliva to spit on it.

"mmf-please," you loudly whine "m'gonna cum-"

sevika wants the moment to linger, make you cum over and over again but she cannot stop when she's seeing the transparent color of her saliva mix up with your arousal as her fingers fucked you at a much faster pace now. her nose darts against your skin, and she has to help you stand when she's licking your rear so eagerly, circling the ring, teasing you with focused licks, pushing dangerously against your tight hole.

and the sight of it is nasty, blush creeps upon your neck as her mechanic arm grabs your hand to place it in your back, the slam of her own fingers almost irritating her as they make you move forward with each thrust, far from her mouth.

sevika’s oblivious for a second. it's not her fault either way, cause you cum right in her fingers, panting out your ex-girlfriend's name as your body goes limp and she has to take you right in her arms cause you cannot seem to hold your own weight.

it’s imposible to think about the stitches, and more importantly — about the fact that she cannot stay by any means. no when you're always better off without her in the picture.

could it get any better in her safe heaven?

[cameronsbabydoll]

SUGAR-COATED CHAINS — CHAPTER NINE

WARNINGS — possessiveness, rafe watches the reader through the security cameras in his penthouse,

You wake up slowly, stretching beneath the silky sheets, the warmth of sleep still clinging to you. The familiar scent of Rafe’s cologne lingers in the air, but the spot beside you is empty, the mattress cool where he once laid. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you push yourself up on your elbows, searching the room until you find him.

He’s already dressed for the day, standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt. The city skyline stretches behind him, morning light spilling into the penthouse, casting golden hues against his sharp features. The way the sun hits him from behind only makes him look even more formidable, like some sort of power-broker god. Your heart flutters just watching him.

His gaze flicks to you, expression unreadable. “Morning,” he says simply, voice deep and smooth, but it carries an undertone of authority. The kind of tone that makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.

You hum in response, still groggy, rubbing your eyes. Your usual routine is to roll over and curl up for another few minutes of sleep. But there’s something about the way he stands, so effortlessly commanding, that keeps you awake. You half-expect him to tell you to get up or tease you about staying in bed too long, but instead, he says something completely unexpected.

“You should just stay. Move your things in.”

The words hang in the air, casual, matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s already decided. Like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you sit up quickly, clutching the blanket around you, your pulse quickening. “Really?”

He gives you a look—one of those unreadable, slightly amused stares he always gives when he thinks you’re being a little slow, as if everything is part of some plan. “Yeah,” he says, tilting his head, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “You’re already mine, aren’t you?”

The words hit you like a wave, a surge of warmth filling your chest. You nod without even thinking, the answer bubbling out of you as though it’s been rehearsed. “Yes.”

His smirk widens, almost predatory, and it makes your heart race. He steps closer, and in one fluid motion, he tilts your chin up with his fingers, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb before leaning in and kissing you. It’s slow, deliberate, claiming. Every movement makes your chest tighten, your body already responding before your mind catches up.

When he pulls back, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. “I have meetings all day,” he says, voice low and confident. He shrugs into his suit jacket, smoothing out the fabric. “Make yourself at home.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

The second the door clicks shut, you scramble for your phone, heart hammering in your chest, feeling like you’ve just entered a dream—or a whirlwind you can’t control. You barely wait for your best friend to answer before whisper-shrieking, “He asked me to move in!”

Her gasp is so loud that you pull the phone away from your ear, heart thudding harder now. “No fucking way.”

You flop onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, grinning like a giddy schoolgirl. “I’m serious! I’m literally in his bed right now. He just left for work and told me to make myself at home.”

“Holy shit. You’re actually, like, a little housewife now.”

The words make your stomach do a little flip. You don’t know why they hit you so hard, but they stick, almost like a label that feels right—too right.

You giggle, kicking your feet. “I guess?”

Your best friend hums from the other end, the sound of her shuffling things around echoing in the background. “Are you sure about this?”

You hesitate for half a second, weighing the idea in your head, but there’s no doubt in your voice when you reply, “He takes care of me. You don’t understand.”

You can almost hear her raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I kinda do. You sound so whipped right now.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “Shut up.”

“Shut up? Girl, you just called me squealing about moving into your sugar daddy’s penthouse.”

You scowl, but there’s no real bite to it. “He’s not—”

“Babe. He’s rich as hell and spoils you rotten. He’s literally your sugar daddy.”

You huff, but there’s a smile creeping onto your face. “Well, he’s hot.”

“Obviously.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Okay, okay. I should give you a tour. You won’t believe this place.”

You flip the camera, starting with a slow pan across the living room. The plush, modern furniture gleams under the lights, the cityscape sprawling out beyond the glass walls. His home is the kind of place you only see in magazines, the kind of place you never imagined could ever be yours.

Your best friend whistles. “Jesus. He’s loaded.”

“I know,” you murmur, in awe all over again. “It’s crazy.”

You continue to show her around, feeling proud of the space, the luxury that suddenly feels like it belongs to you. But more than that, there’s a warmth inside you that swells. This is real. It’s happening. And no matter how fast everything is moving, you don’t want it to stop.

—

Across the city, Rafe sits in his top-floor office, the city spread out beneath him, endless and busy. The glass walls reflect the midday sunlight, bathing him in a sharp glow that makes his presence even more commanding. He’s not paying attention to the skyline, though. His focus is entirely on the small screen in his hand.

You. Wandering around his penthouse, showing off every corner like it’s already your own. You didn’t know he had cameras installed in every room—an added layer of security, of course, but also a way for him to keep an eye on his territory. And right now, his girl is wandering around, lost in his world, taking it all in.

He smirks, sipping his whiskey with one hand, the other resting lazily on the arm of his chair. His eyes track your movements on the screen, watching you giggle as you show your friend the oversized kitchen, the walk-in closet, the marble bathroom. The soft tones of your voice drift from the speakers, and he finds himself listening a little too closely.

His thoughts are interrupted when one of his business partners walks in, pausing as he sees Rafe staring at his phone with an uncharacteristic grin.

“What are you grinning at?” the man asks, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe looks up, smirking even more. “Just watching something.”

The man takes a few steps closer, squinting at the screen. “Is that security footage?”

Rafe doesn’t even glance at him. “Yep.”

“You got cameras in your penthouse, huh?” The man steps up beside him, now grinning as realization dawns. “Wait… Is that your girl?”

Rafe takes another sip of his whiskey, his eyes still glued to the screen. “She’s mine.”

The man lets out a low whistle, impressed. “Damn. You’re really moving fast, huh?”

Rafe just shrugs, his gaze never leaving the screen. “Told her to move in this morning.”

“Holy shit, you’re not messing around,” the man mutters, shaking his head. “Guess I don’t need to ask how things are going with her.”

Rafe just smirks. “No. You don’t.”

—

Later that afternoon, Rafe comes over to help you pack.

You’re excited at first, the thought of finally moving in settling in your chest like a warm, comforting feeling. But when you open the door to let him in, the reality of it hits. The place you’ve called your own for so long suddenly feels… small.

Rafe steps into your room and looks around, his expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Jesus, princess,” he drawls, arms crossed as he takes in your space. “Didn’t realize I was moving a whole toy store into my place.”

Your face heats up as you watch him pick up a stuffed Jellycat. His lips curl up in a wicked grin. “You’re bringing all of these?” he teases, holding the toy up like it’s some kind of oddity.

“Yes,” you snap, snatching the plushie back and cradling it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Rafe’s amusement doesn’t die, though. He picks up a delicate lace nightgown you’ve never worn, holding it between his fingers, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You wear this?”

Your cheeks turn crimson. “Sometimes,” you mutter.

He tilts his head, studying the piece of clothing with a smirk. “I’ll bet you look good in it.”

Then, he finds your diaries. You freeze as he flips through the pages, glancing at the messy scribbles inside. “What’s this? You write about me in here?” he teases, lifting a page that looks suspiciously familiar.

“Rafe!” you squeak, lunging for it, but he holds it just out of reach. You try not to blush, but it’s impossible.

Rafe laughs darkly, his voice low and full of that unyielding authority. “You’ll have to tell me about these later.”

You glance at him, heart skipping a beat. “I—”

“I’ll read them later, then,” he says, dropping the diary into the box, a wicked smirk on his lips as he watches you scramble to stuff the rest of your things into bags. “You’re really mine now, aren’t you?”

There’s no hesitation this time. You look up, meeting his gaze. “Yes, Rafe. I’m yours.”

He nods once, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Good. Now let’s get you moved in.”

The thought of the future seems less daunting now, wrapped up in a world of power and control. Everything has already changed. And you’re finally realizing just how much it’s about to shift.

As the evening settles in, the penthouse feels more like home with each passing minute. Rafe has settled back into the luxurious bed beside you after helping you unpack, though now, there’s a different air in the room—one that feels charged with something more than just the day’s events. The sheets feel like silk under your skin, and you can’t help but notice how comfortably you fit next to him, even as the distance between your bodies feels like the closeness of a couple that’s been together for years.

Rafe is lounging against the pillows, eyes scanning over something on his phone, though his focus never really leaves you. You’re sprawled out beside him, fiddling with your own phone, just distracted enough to ignore the small, almost predatory smile that keeps tugging at the corners of his lips.

You can feel his eyes on you, making the back of your neck tingle as you type quickly into your notes app, your fingers tapping out your thoughts in the quiet of the room.

I think I like playing house with him.

You read it over for a second, your heart racing. Is it too soon to feel like this? Too soon to acknowledge how good it feels to be his in a way that feels so natural? The thought of being his—the way he owns the space, the way you fit into it—has become so familiar that you wonder if this is where you’ve always belonged.

Before you can hit send, Rafe shifts beside you, his phone now forgotten. You glance up just as he tilts his head and gives you that knowing grin—the one that always makes your stomach flutter. His eyes darken slightly as they trace the curve of your body beneath the soft nightgown you’ve slipped into.

“You think so?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. It’s a question, but you can feel the command in it, as if he already knows the answer.

You nod, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks, but you don’t pull away. The space between you is still just enough to make your heart race, but you can feel the pull of him—it’s magnetic. His gaze dips down to your exposed legs, then back up to your face. The heat of it burns you from the inside out.

With one swift motion, Rafe reaches out, dragging his fingers lightly over the delicate lace of your nightgown, his touch so careful yet so possessive. You can feel his fingers trailing slowly up your back, the fabric shifting under his touch as his hand moves with deliberate purpose.

"You're mine, aren't you?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm, expectant.

You bite your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. His presence is overwhelming in the best way, and every part of you wants to surrender to him. “Yes," you say softly, your voice betraying the heat that's built between you.

Rafe leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Good."

You shiver at the feel of his breath on your skin, but then he shifts, his hand now resting on the small of your back, just above the curve of your hips. He moves you closer, pulling you flush against his body. His grin widens, a wolfish gleam in his eyes as he looks down at you, seeing right through any pretense.

His hand slides lower, smoothing over the back of your nightgown with an almost lazy touch, like he’s claiming every inch of you. You feel a gentle pressure against your spine, a light caress that feels possessive yet comforting all at once. You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips, your body instinctively pressing closer to him.

With that same commanding, almost teasing voice, he says, “Come here. Sleep.”

The way he says it, it’s not just an order; it’s a promise—of what you still aren’t fully sure of, but you know it’s something he’s not going to let go. There’s that little spark of danger in his tone, the one that makes everything inside you tingle. It’s the kind of command you’ve learned to expect from him, and this time, you don’t hesitate.

You slip closer, curling into him, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, and as you settle into the familiar warmth of his body, you can feel the faint, rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

You hear him chuckle softly, a deep, low sound, as his fingers stroke over your back, soothing and possessive all at once. The moment is perfect in its stillness, but you can feel how restless you both are underneath it.

And as the night draws on, you don’t know what’s coming next—how he’ll change you or how you’ll change him. But in this moment, wrapped in his embrace, you think to yourself with a soft smile:

I think I really do like playing house with him.

Rafe’s voice breaks the silence before you can drift off completely, his hand still moving lazily over your nightgown, tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “It’s just the beginning, princess.”

Your pulse spikes at the sound of his words. You don’t even have to see his face to know the grin that’s there—faint, dangerous, and full of promise.

You close your eyes, your body relaxed against his, and let sleep come, knowing the future holds more than just playing house. And with Rafe, it’s a game you’ll never tire of.

[itelya]

tumblr girl. boyfriend! Sukuna x fem! black reader

synopsis: your bf fuck you on the couch.

warning: NSFW (MDNI), dirty names, creampie, quick foreplay, a little rough, fingering, creampie, think it’s all (emphasis on black reader but accessible for everyone!) /!\ old work and not proofread so if there are errors srry not srry.

words: 1696.

You’re lying on the couch, on your stomach, your phone in your hands as you scroll through Tumblr. Fanart of your favorite characters parades before your eyes, some so sexy and captivating that they make you smile. But, let’s be honest, none of them match your boyfriend, Sukuna.

Sure, he was a self-important jerk most of the time, but he had this tender and caring side that only you knew. He took care of you when you weren’t feeling well, with such gentle gestures and a look so protective that he made you forget all his annoying habits. Sukuna could be adorable… but only to you.

As your mind wanders, Sukuna comes out of the bathroom, shuffling his feet to the living room. A simple towel is tied around his hips, revealing his muscular torso, while his still wet hair falls messily over his face.

His gaze falls on you, lying on the couch. He could have said that he found you beautiful, with your freshly done braids framing your face, or the softness of your features shining under the dim light. But instead, he prefers to admire your big black ass barely covered by your little red shorts.

He gets all excited and feels his cock rise against the fabric of the towel. Shit, just seeing you like that is enough to make him hard. He moves closer to you and decides to slap your ass. You moan in surprise and pleasure.

"Sukuna..?", you turn around to put yourself on your back and your elbows but he gets between your legs quickly. He places his hands on your waist and carries you as if you weighed a feather then puts you on him.

"Fucking slut.. does it turn you on to dress like this to turn me on?", he looks into your eyes excitedly and his gaze drops to your big full breasts stuck in your little black tank top. You feel his cock throbbing against you.

"I didn't dress like this to-", he spanks your ass and forces you to look at him. "Are you sure baby? You shouldn't lie to me.", his voice becomes deep and low. You start to get wet, he's so sexy when he's turned on like this.

"I-... sorry." You look at his dick and put your hand on it. "How can I make up for it?" , you go up to his ear and you’re whispering sensually. You hear a slight grunt in his throat. "You’re such a slut."

He takes your hand and takes both of your wrists and places them behind your back." Do you really think I’m going to let you touch my cock so easily, honey?" he smiles viciously. He puts two fingers in front of your mouth. Open up baby." You open up straight away and suck those fingers and drool on them.

After he is satisfied, do not even take the time to remove your short and your panties that he pulls them on the side to reveal your little pussy wet that throbbing just thinking of the way he will fuck you. He smiles viciously and kisses you brutally.

"Are you already excited about me fucking you?", you whisper a weak ‘yes’ and look at him impactingly. He looks at you and pushes one of his thick and long fingers into your tight and wet little hole. His finger gets swallowed by your hungry walls.

He pulls you towards him and kisses you roughly as he slides a second finger in and pushes it deeper into you. You moan, your lips parting beneath his. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around him to pull him closer to you.

"Suku- sukuna mmhf…", you moan as you feel his fingers spread your wet walls and then suddenly he pulls his fingers out and puts them in his mouth. "You taste so good princess. I want to fuck you now." His eyes darken with desire.

"Please baby..", you whisper and look at him so excited. Shit, how could he hold back when you look at him like that, drunk on him when he just fucked you with his fingers. So what would it be like with his cock?

He releases your wrists and places his thumb on your needy clit and like little circles on it, enough to make you arch and moan. Then he pins you down and lies on top of you. You watch his cock hard against the towel that is soon to come undone.

“See how fucking hard you make me?” His voice is deep and low, husky with the desire to possess you. He looks at you and a small smile forms on his face. You’re so sexy and cute. You’ll be his downfall.

His hands remove your tank top and your full breasts come into contact with the slightly cold air of the room. Your black nipples harden immediately, they are so appetizing but now he just wants to fuck you.

Sukuna removes his towel completely and throws it into the room. His big horny cock finds place on your soaking wet pussy and stomach. His dick is so thick and long that during your first time you thought you were going to die.

"You want this dick baby?"

You nod, unable to answer. You want him inside you so bad. He smiles even more in satisfaction and a low laugh escapes. He could go crazy because of you. "Use your words babe.. do that or I won't fuck you. That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

His gaze is stern and serious but you know he won't be able to pull back from fucking you. But you prefer to play along. "I want your dick so bad.. suku please??" Your tone is almost tearful and preachy. How can he resist you when you're like this?

“Good girl.” He leans down and kisses you roughly. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and dances with yours. You feel his cock rubbing against your wet folds. You can’t help but throb in anticipation. He pulls away from your lips and stands up.

He spits on his hand then goes back and forth on it to lubricate it. The tip of his length rubs and voluntarily tickles your little swollen clitoris which makes you moan then a semi-hard slap smacks your pussy which makes you scream in surprise.

“Suku-!” Small tears run down your cheeks. You feel his thick mouthful entering your velvety walls. Low grunts escape Sukuna’s throat. The feeling of your tight pussy is heaven to him.

"Fuck baby… your pussy is the heaven." His cock slides even deeper into you. You moan his name and incoherent things, the feeling is bliss. The tip of his dick hits your cervix making you whimper.

“You’re too deep..-” your words jumbled together, you already didn’t know where to turn. You got cock drunk so soon? He didn’t even start. “I.. Ican’t- can’t take it!” A small laugh escaped Sukuna’s lips. How ridiculous.

"Every time I fucked you you took my dick like a good girl, you took it, didn't you? Don't disappoint me baby-." He doesn't move while you get used to it and slides his hand over your warm skin to your chest. His fingers start to play with one of your sensitive nipples.

Small moans come out of your mouth. It feels so good. You lift your arms to put them on Sukuna's shoulders and pull him towards you. "You can move ‘kuna." He smiles then kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth and starting to move.

"Feeling good baby?" You don't even have time to answer that he places his hands on your hips and begins to thrust deep into you. Your eyes roll back on themselves and your nails dig into Sukuna's skin.

Your pussy tightens instinctively as his cock hits your cervix. One of his hands slides into your hair and pulls it back to kiss you full on the mouth, making you suffocate.

His other hand moves to your swollen little clit. His thumb teases your sensitive bud and presses on it making you moan and your back arch. Your legs shake under Sukuna's intensity. He's fast, rough and goes so deep inside you.

"You take me so fucking well, doll... you just wanted attention earlier when you said you couldn't take it, huh?" You shake your head, you meant it. He's so big sometimes- He laughs and smiles at you. "What should I do with you?"

"Kuna-" you moan and wrap your legs around his thick waist. He moves even closer to you and kisses from your ear to your collarbone. His hands cup your legs and place them on his broad shoulders.

His movements become more significant and deeper, making you lose your mind. Small tears leak from the stimulation. The couch begins to creak under his harsh blows.

"Sukuna, you’ree going to break the couuuch!" He doesn't answer and continues. He goes back to playing with your sensitive clit and spits on it. Fingers slip into your mouth and fuck your hot, wet mouth with them. All your holes are filled with Sukuna.

…

You're almost on the verge of cumming with Sukuna. Your pussy is getting tighter and tighter, throbbing even more. Sukuna's movements are becoming erratic; he's about to cum too. The couch creaks even more beneath you.

"I should break this couch once and for all." He sneers, saying this more to himself than to you. Your legs tremble on his large shoulders and your toes curl in on themselves.

"M’gonna cum!" You moan and scream his name. You're so close. You feel his veiny cock pulsing and pushing into you. The wet sounds of your squirting and his cream turn him on even more. It's so pretty to see.

"Cum for me babe." You cum and moan his name and Sukuna unloads his creamy load inside you and whispers your name like a prayer.

IM SO LAZY TO FINISH PROPELY SRRRYYY😭🙏

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not A Word 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, violence, parental abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note:😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

With all the unknown ahead of you, it's safe to keep to what you know. You go to the kitchen with the itch still under your skin. You're irritated, scalded by Sy's unwanted touch. Uninvited. Unnerving. 

You've never been an angry person. Your father is, or was, and it always deterred you from the same. Being mad does nothing but drain you dry. But that's what you are. And helpless because you know there's nothing you can do to act on that displeasure. So you focus on what you can do. 

You take out the breakfast sausages. Your father had a fit when you brought home the spicy instead of the maple ones. Well, he isn't there anymore to scream at you. Or hit you. 

You turn on the burner and set a skillet over to heat. You grab the eggs and take out two. That's usually what he eats but you think of Sy. He's much bigger. You add two more. 

You hear him. The floor creaks beneath his weight and he yawns as he lumbers down the hallway. You sense him in the doorway. That's the thing about being quiet, you learn to be observant. You read your surroundings like your books. 

"Morning, sugar," he purrs. "Now ain't you an early riser. Already at it." 

You don't react; not a flinch. You unwrap several sausages and drop them in the pan. They hiss against the hot metal.  

Next, the coffee. All he'll get from you is that. Breakfast. Appeasement. But he won't get a look or a twitch. He touched you and he didn't even apologise.  

He killed your father... 

The machine grinds as it spits out the dark brew. You measure out your own breakfast. Oats and raisins, with a touch of cinnamon and sugar. You set the kettle to boil and keep your back to him. His fingers tap heavily on the table as he watches you. 

"Sugar?" He drawls. 

You crack the eggs into a bowl and sprinkle in seasonings. You add some milk for some fluffiness, then grab another pan. You twist on the third burner. He sighs heavily. 

"Hey, you alright?" He asks. 

You oil the pan as you ignore him. He hums low. You stir the eggs before you add them to the pan. You cover it with a lid and leave it. 

You pull down a plate and pluck out cutlery. You pour a cup of coffee and bring it to him but do not see him. You stare at the wall as you put it down. He thanks you and presses his large hand around the porcelain, 

"Look, sweetheart, I know yesterday was rough, but--" He puts his other hand on your hip and snap your fingers against him. The sharp swat has him recoiling as you spin and stomp away. "Hey, sug, what's that about?" 

You turn the sausages as the grease spits. He huffs. 

"You mad at me?" He wonders. You don't answer. "Now, what did I do?" 

You take the lid off the pan and flip the omelette. You go to the fridge to get the cheese. You shred it over the omelette and cover it again. He shifts so the chair groans under his weight. The noise reminds you of his size. You hesitate. What if you make him mad? 

"I know it's hard losing someone, sugar," he says. 

The kettle rumbles and you remove it from the heat before it can whistle. You pour it into your oats and stir, then leave it to soften. The aroma of spices and sausage swirls in the air. His belly growls noisily. 

You plate up the food and serve it to him. "Thanks, sugar, it smells delicious." 

Once more, you're one your way back to the sink before he can finish. You pour the grease into a jar and rinse the pans, stacking them next to the sink with the dirtied bowl, spatula, and the rest. You add some milk to your bowl before you put the carton away and you take your oats. 

He gets up as you walk toward the table. He pulls out a chair. You pass him and head into the hall. You unlock the front door and clamour out onto the porch in bare feet. You don't care. You sit on the step to eat alone. 

The hinges squeal behind you, "now, sugar, why are you doing all this?" 

You scoop the oats into your mouth and stare unwavering into the distance. The sky is a soft bluish yellow hue behind the dirt expanse and sharp points of distant trees. He crosses the porch to the step. He bends and squeezes your shoulder. 

"You know I'm here to help you--" 

You stand and nearly spill the oatmeal. You jerk away from him and trod through the dusty dirt. He grunts in surprise. 

"What're you doing? You ain't got no shoes on." He chides. 

You scurry away, cradling your breakfast in your hands, and don't look back. He doesn't follow but it's not a comfort. He'll come after you eventually. 

You go around the garage and skirt down behind the cluster of thorny bushes your daddy never bothered to clear. You sit on the ground and set the bowl down. You bow your head and hold it in your hands. You blow out between your lips. 

You don't miss your daddy. Him being gone doesn't make you sad, but not feeling anything about it does. That's the same callousness, the same apathy he always showed you. You don't want to be like him. You don't want to be happy he's gone. 

💜

After a while, you relent. You don't have much of a choice. That adds to your frustration. Knowing that none of this is within your grasp only exhausts you. You just want to lay down and never get up. 

You go inside. It's quiet. You enter the kitchen and find it empty. You wash your bowl and put it away. Not much has changed. You're still trying to be invisible. 

A sniff jolts you. Sy lets out a sigh and you keep your eyes averted. You turn and walk around the table. He blocks the door. You know there's no way around or through him. 

"Sugar, you're mad. I understand. And you just lost your daddy, so I'm not gonna hold that against you," he puts his hands on your shoulders and you flinch. You shove his forearms and step out of his hold. He holds his hands up as if burned. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to deal with but I'm tryna help you--" 

Your eyes dart up, your hand too, and you point at him sharply. His eyes round and his brow furrows. He shakes his head. You wiggle your finger, exasperated. You want to yell at him! You stomp your foot and clap your hands.

Then, without a thought, you push his stomach. It has little effect as he's too big to be moved. You do it again. You slap his stomach then his chest, and huff, spinning away from him to storm around the kitchen. 

"Sugar," his voice is low and rocky, "it was an accident. You know that." 

You scowl and push the chair over. You fume silently as you throw your hands up, curling and uncurling your fists. He stays in the door, trapping you there to roil in your confused rage. 

"He was insulting you. He always did. I never liked that and... and he was mean to you." 

You sneer and clutch your head. You shake it furiously and put your back to him. You shake as your eyes well hotly. You lied for him. You all but sealed your fate because you were scared. Of what? Of him being the one to replace your father. The one who keeps you on a leash. 

You grab a ladle hanging above the counter and hurl it at him. He lets it bounce off of him. "Alright, sugar. Throw another." 

You curl your lip and do just that; a spatula, then a slotted spoon. You turn back and reach for another then stop. 

"You just get it all out. I'll take whatever you got," he says. "Sugar, I know I messed this up but I'm gonna make it better. I'm gonna take care of ya." 

You slap your hands on the counter and hang your head. You're so tired. So tired. 

You slump and turn. You go to the chair and pick it up. You put it back at the table and round it. You near Sy. You point past him. He exhales but moves out of your way. 

You pass him and turn down the hall. You stop between your bedroom and the bathroom. You go into the latter and lock the door. You just need to stop thinking for a while. 

💜

You emerge from the bathroom reluctantly. He's waiting. The thought that he always will be from now on scares you as much as the man himself. 

You go into your room. He's there. You stop short, in just your towel, clothes hugged against your chest. He sits on your bed, shoulders hunched, forehead lined. He looks at you and his brows arch. 

"There ya're," he says and pushes his shoulders back. "Feel any better?" 

You blink and drop your clothes in the basket. You pull open the dresser and feel the towel slacken dangerously. You catch it and suck in a breath. He growls. You reach to grab a shirt. 

"You know, sugar, I don't wanna overload ya but..." the bed shifts with him. "We can't stay here. Bed's too small, as much as I enjoy cuddling and... it just don't feel right, does it?" 

You open the lower drawer, carefully bending your legs to grab a pair of linen pants. You stand straight and pluck out some clean underwear. He stands and you tense as he nears. 

"I meant it. I'm gonna be good to ya," he touches your shoulder and you reel away from him. You face him and he mopes. "Please, don't be mad at me. I couldn't-- I couldn't do nothing to bring him back. And I couldn't see him abuse ya no more." 

You frown. 

"You understand, don't ya? That's what he was doin'? Abusing ya? All those years?" He steps closer again. 

Your lip trembles and your eyes singe. You back up and spin away from him. You race out of the room and across the hall. He sighs and follows you but stops on the other side of the door. 

"I only wanted to hurt him. Not you," he pleads. 

You look at your reflection. Your tears spill over and you squeeze the clothes tight. You sink down to your knees as your bad racks with sobs. 

You're not sad your dad's gone. You're not even mad about what Sy did to him. He deserved it. You're scared and lost and... alone. 

Before, with your dad, you knew what was expected. Now you do and you don't. Sy told the sheriff he's going to marry you. Why? You know wives have duties. You don't know if you can do those. Not the ones beyond cooking and cleaning. 

"It's okay, you know? I'll wait for ya," he drawls as his hand brushes loudly down the door. "However long you want. I know you got a lot to think about. And I want you to think about the good things." He leans on the door as it moves in the frame. "You know, I got you a nice table with a light for your arts and stuff. Got ya all these little things, too. Think you'll like em. And some flowers." 

You glare at your door and shake your head. Good things? You've never know anything good. Not before and not now. But you never expected it all to get so much worse. 

[webbedmirror]

High King Phantom looked at his surroundings with narrowed eyes. He rarely responded to summonings, however, this one came with offerings—sacrifices—. It perked his interest, and not necessarily in a good way. The summoning circle was sloppy, the summoners were dressed in cheap matching cloaks, they seemingly were in a random abandoned apartment, and most importantly, he was surrounded by bodies.

Seven bodies surrounded the king, seven bodies sacrificed to Danny.

"Your majesty," a person—seemingly the leader— greeted with a bowed head, "It is an honor to be in your glorious presence." Glowing green eyes stared them down, but they did not receive a response. Ever arrogant, the mortal continued talking, "We have used three sacrifices to summon you, and we hope to use the other four to strike a deal with me."

Phantom could not help but sneer. "You want to use the other four for a deal? You lot already seemed to be idiotic and somehow manage to anger me further." The summoners flinched, some preparing to flee. The king would not allow that to happen, a light tap of his foot and the floor was covered in frost, freezing the summoners in place.

"These people are dead, they are under my domain, they are my subjects. You want to give me something that is already mine?" Phantom yelled. "Even if you offered them to me when they were alive, what use would I have for them? I have trillions if not quadrillions of undead under my rule. Do you understand what that means? That is over a thousand times more people living on your planet. What do four or fuck— seven lives mean to me? Your sacrifices mean nothing to me, all you've done is needlessly kill your own kind!"

His words left the summoners speechless; it seemed they underestimated the king's power. They couldn't help but cower, a chilling, heart-pounding fear now embedded in them.

"Where is the tome you used?" Phantom was met with silence. "Do not make me repeat myself!"

"It- it's over there, your- your majesty," someone spoke up, shakily pointing a finger to a bag in the back of the room.

Phantom telekinetically brought the bag towards him, carelessly throwing things out the bag before finding the tome. He flipped through the book, quickly scanning it before freezing it solid. He raised the book high and then threw it onto the floor. Both the ice and book shattered like glass, becoming such small particles that one couldn't even hope to recover and put back together the tome.

"Now then, what should I do with you all?"

"I can take care of the rest," a new voice spoke. Phantom looked at the knight—or perhaps, hero, but the lingering of Lady Gotham on the man made Phantom prioritize the fact that he was a knight— dressed in black and blue.

"This is my issue, knight. I have the right to deal with in any way I'd like."

The knight walked closer to him, steps confident despite the icy floor. "You may be right, but you are on human land, you aren't judge, jury, or executioner."

[]

Nightwing was late-late again, too slow, too sloppy, too careless, and people died, again and it was his fault. Bludhaven was his territory, his city, and he couldn't even properly defend it.

The vigilante forced himself to not look at the dead bodies, faces crumbled in pain, tear tracks still on their faces, and instead looked the king of the dead in the eye.

"What do the rules of humans mean to me, when I am more powerful than a human could even wish to be?" A seemingly light tap of the foot resulted in the tile beneath him to crumble and the room filled with the screams of the summoners.

He'd made a blunder; sleep deprivation was not helping him speak to high-ranking alien entities. "That doesn't make us any less significant, nor does that mean you need to invalidate our culture and government. I hope if you are a just ruler, that you would respect our planet and the way it governs."

The king frowned, glowing green eyes stared at him intensely. "Get them out of my sight and we'll see how I feel."

Nightwing nodded, putting the criminals in handcuffs under the king's scrutiny. Once the king had evaporated the frost, he tied them up and put them in another room whilst talking to a police operative. While the vigilante took care of the criminals, the ghost took care of the sacrifices. A wave of magic surrounded the bodies, one by one, and their faces changed into a peaceful look. Seven orbs surrounded the king, and he looked at them with a soft sadness that surprised Nightwing.

The king's eyes focused back on Nightwing. "You will make sure those people are prosecuted properly?"

Nightwing nodded, "Of course."

"Then it's time for me to leave. Thank you for your help."

"Wait!" the hero bowed his head. "I know this is probably not the best time, but you're the king of the dead right?"

[]

The knight looked back at him, full of desperation. "My baby brother died not long ago, I just need to know. . ."

Phantom softened, "If he's a knight like you, he should be fine in my realm."

"He was." the knight clenched his fists, "I just. . . I need to know for sure that he's okay, that he's going to stay okay, and that I'm sorry."

"I can keep an eye on him, ensure his safety, and pass along information so long as you are alive in exchange of you passing along the final messages of these seven and ensuring that they receive a funeral of their liking." Unfortunately, as much as he sympathized with the knight, so long as he was within the summoning circle he could not do things for free. Whilst he could break out of it, it would be a waste of energy and he was sure the knight would agree to the terms.

"Thank you."

"We have a deal, Sir . . ?"

"Nightwing. It's a deal, King. . ."

"Phantom. We have a deal."

For the first time in a while, Nightwing smiled-soft and watery, nonetheless, a smile.

"Then, goodbye, Nightwing. And do take care of yourself, you look like shit and I don't want you to become my subject before you complete your end of the deal."

[End.]

Wahoo! It's been a while since I've written something original-ish like this so do forgive any inconsistencies or mistakes. This is a oneshot and I most likely won't add onto it so I'm just going to spill some of the background/ideas/would-be-plans for this :]

This is set while Jason is dead but before Tim meets with Dick

Speaking of Tim, I feel like Dick would be nicer and not so guilty for pushing him to become Robin

Shortly after he comes back to the realms, Danny goes to find Jason and passes on Dick's sorry as well as receives the message Jason wants to give to Dick

If this were a multichapter fic it would be slow burn friends to lovers Death Defying

I'd imagine that Danny & Jason get a brotherly bond

Clockwork essentially tosses Danny at Jason's grave when it's time for Jason to resurrect

Jason won't (initially) have his memories of being dead, but like post resurrection he doesn't have a lot of memories in the first place sooo

Whilst Jason is dead, he is located in Infinite Realm!Gotham under the care of Lady Gotham so Danny doesn't have to monitor him 24/7 and only visits him every 2 weeks or to pass along messages

Danny and Dick bond in a weird fucked up way of Dick "It took me a month to learn about Jason's death because I was off-planet and Bruce didn't tell me anything" and Danny "It took months for my sister to learn I was dead and years for my parents to learn about it and we lived under the same roof so you're off to a better start."

Oh, Nightwing isn't thinking straight because of Jason's death and his lack of coping mechanisms. I don't think I did a great job of showing that but that's why he's making a deal without hesitation

[hanniebaeee]

All of you

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of period.

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: You and Chris are going on a weekend getaway, and you were so excited. Until an expected twist has you completely thrown, and Chris is the most sweetest boyfriend ever.

a/n: Very short, but I needed comfort (also Channie's big hug) 😭

The pout on your face says it all. It gives a very good picture about how you're feeling at the moment - absolutely miffed. 

This is supposed to be the perfect weekend getaway. The two of you had planned so meticulously for it. A cozy cabin in the mountains, no phones, no friends - just you and Chris. And lots of sex in front of that beautiful fireplace you'd been obsessing over since the minute you saw it on the website. 

But no. Your uterus decided to pull a fast one, surprising you with your period a week early. A WEEK. Classic.

Chris is currently inside a convenience store, buying you something to eat since you've been crabby all morning, especially so because you weren't prepared for this disaster. 

When he comes out of the store after a few minutes, he’s got your food in one hand and - oh god, you scream in your head - is that a pack of pads he’s casually tossing in the other? 

He slides into the driver’s seat, hands you the food, and chucks the pack of pads casually into the backseat. 

“Why are you pouting?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine confusion. “Cramps?”

 “Why am I pouting?! Chris, why are YOU not pouting?!”

“Uh, why would I?” he replies, pulling back onto the highway.

His fingers drum against the steering wheel, and he sighs.

“Babe, you needed pads. I got pads. Problem solved. What’s the big deal?” He glances at you before focusing back on the road.

You cross your arms and glare out the window, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“Baby.” He says, his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. “Why are you so stressed about this? We're taking this break so you can relax? And you've done nothing but stress over it.”

“I’m not stressed!” you snap, even though you’re very obviously stressed. “I’m sad, okay? My period came early, and now the weekend’s ruined. We had so much planned -” You cut yourself off, cheeks flaming as your brain conjures images of everything you’d really been looking forward to.

Chris doesn’t miss it though. He grins, wide and wolfish as he says, “Ruined? And when has your period ever stopped us from having fun?”

“Chris!” Your jaw drops. "We have never!”

“What?” He smirks, eyes still on the road but so clearly enjoying your flustered state. “There's a first time for everything. You think I care? Babe, we’re going away to relax, yeah? So relax. We’ll have fun, period or not.”

You press your lips together, fully aware that you have nothing to say because, as much as you hate to admit it, he’s not wrong. This man has seen you at your most unfiltered, unhinged, and, yes, all the icky phases. He obviously doesn’t care about a little blood. 

“Besides,” he continues, voice dropping to that husky, teasing tone, “you’re acting like I planned this trip just for the sex. Which, for the record, I didn’t. I also booked it because I want to watch you beat me at Monopoly and make fun of my attempts at cooking.”

“Your cooking is pretty tragic,” you mumble, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“There she is.” He grins, sliding his hand onto your thigh, his thumb rubbing gentle circles just above your knee. “See? You’re smiling already. And don’t worry - I’ve got chocolate and snacks all ready, in case you need it.”

You turn to him with a lovesick face. “You bought me chocolate too?”

“Of course I did,” he says, giving you a wink. “What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

The cabin is straight out of a Pinterest board - wooden beams, floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the foggy woods, and a fireplace that is literally begging you to curl up in front of it. It should’ve been perfect. But instead of basking in the cozy vibes, you flop face-first onto the fluffy couch, still feeling the faint weight of disappointment.

The kind who drives you absolutely insane, you think. But also, the kind who makes you feel like the luckiest girl alive.

Chris walks in, lugging your bags with one hand and a grocery bag in the other. He shuts the door with his foot and glances over at you, eyebrows quirking at your dramatic sprawl.

“Babe, you good?” he asks, dropping the bags and peeling off his jacket. His voice is light, teasing, but there’s a note of concern in his eyes as he crouches down next to you.

You groan into the pillow. “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he says, placing a hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles. “You’re still hung up on this, huh?”

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “Chris, you don’t get it…uh, nevermind” You trail off, sighing dramatically.

Chris just grins.

“Oh, I know. My poor baby.” He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “But I'm here, yeah? Gonna take good care of you.”

You roll onto your back, fixing him with a look.

“Okay.” You say, rolling onto your back and giving him a tiny smile.

He laughs, and presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

“No more pouting, and sighing. Just let me do my thing, okay? You know I’m not here for just the easy stuff. I’m here for all of it.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. God, why does he have to be so… him?

“But -”

“Nope.” He cuts you off, pressing his finger to your lips. “No buts. You’re not gonna miss out on anything. I’ll make sure of it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “What does that mean?”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you, soft and slow. And when he pulls back, his voice drops an octave, dripping with promise.

“Means you should stop overthinking and let me take care of you.”

And that’s exactly what he does. He starts by bringing you your hot water bag, lighting the fireplace and pulling you into his lap, wrapping you in a blanket and feeding you bites of the chocolate. Then he cranks it up with a massage that has you melting into his hands, tension forgotten.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

By the time the sun sets, you’re fully convinced: this weekend isn’t ruined. In fact, it might just be better than you’d ever imagined.

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120

[howi99]

The nest chapter 1

(a "prologue" to from the nest)

13 years ago

Raven: *rubbing her eyes with exasperation* For the last time, Qrow, i won't come back. Summer is happy, Taiyang finally has someone who can be there for him-

Qrow: *cutting her* And your daughter won't know who her real mother is. *Sigh* I'm not even asking you to come back under Ozpin, but don't you think she deserves to know you exist?

Raven: *rolling her eyes* And for what? So that she can be connected to me? So that if someone wants to hurt me, they can go after her? *Shaking her head* No, she deserves better than this. I might be the one who birthed her, but summer is tenfold the mother i could ever dream to be.

Qrow: *annoyed* How can you be sure you'd be that awful of a mother if you only spent a year with her? You were so happy when she was born, so what changed!?

Raven: *glaring at Qrow* What changed? Nothing changed! *Gritting her teeth* We are Branwen, Qrow! *Taking a deep breath* You might have forgotten, but do you remember why we went to Beacon in the first place?

Qrow: *scoff* To learn aura to become stronger-

Raven: *slamming her hand on the table* No! That's just the excuse we used to leave! *Tightening her fists* We were supposed to change this place! To try finding something else, ANYTHING else, that we could do, instead of pillaging village after village, scrapping by like starved dogs! *Sigh, exhausted* But decades of violence can't be erased by just us two.

Qrow: *sigh* Ray-

Raven: They were dying, Qrow. During our time at the academy, we forgot how hard it was for our family. *Looking back at her brother* I can't leave them to die for a war i never heard of, for the interest of the same people who killed our family without a care in the world!

Qrow: *snapping* Then maybe they deserved it! I can't remember a single good thing happening in this god forsaken tribe! All i can remember is training all day and killing innocent people!

Raven: *grabbing him by the shirt* I KNOW THAT ALREADY! BUT DO YOU THINK THE KIDS DESERVED IT TOO? I-

4yo Jaune: *entering the tent, looking confusedly at Qrow* ... *Shaking his head, focusing back on Raven* Train me!

Qrow: *looking at the kid, then at Raven multiple times* ... Who- *focusing on Raven* Does Taiyang Know-

Raven: *sigh, releasing him* He's not mine, that's just Isabelle and Jacques's son. He keeps coming to my tent even when i kick him out.

Qrow: ... You kick him?

Raven: *rolling her eyes* Not literally, i'm not our dad!

4yo Jaune: *walking towards Raven, hugging her* Aunty, train me!

Qrow: *shocked* A-Aunty!?

Raven: *Blushing slightly* J-Jaune, today i really can't teach you. G-go play with Vernal-

4yo Jaune: *frowning* But she's mean! She keeps bullying me because she's taller, i want to defend myself like you!

Raven: Jaune-

4yo Jaune: *star in his eyes* Like you did when you helped those faunus against the grimms!

Raven: *sigh, patting his head* Can you wait 10 minutes then? *Smiling gently* I just need to finish talking with my guest, ok?

4yo Jaune: *turning to Qrow* ... *Wince* He smells like the meanies you threw out of the tribe.

Raven: *chuckle* I know. Now, move along, i'll be there in a bit.

4yo Jaune: *beaming* Ok! *Leave the tent*

Qrow: ...

Raven: *sigh* Those kids don't deserve the life we had. I know you think they aren't worth it but-

Qrow: *sigh, shaking his head* No, you're right. I spent too much time away from here, i completely forgot about the kids... *Frown* He seemed malnourished.

Raven: *looking down* His family is too big. Seven sisters... it's a lot of mouths to feed.

Qrow: ... Have you tried teaching him how to forage? That might help him a bit, along with the other kids.

Raven: *small smirk* What do you take me for, an idiot? He may look weak, but i can assure you that he's a lot better than before.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Asking the 141 men “Is it in?”

That's DIABOLICAL, anon. DIABOLICAL. *proceeds to cackle hysterically while opening up a blank Word doc*

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: bratty behavior, swearing, unprotected piv, humor

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

“Is it in?” you ask, gripping John’s shoulders as you settle in his lap.

John is silent a long moment before he sighs heavily. “I know what you’re up to.”

His hands slide from the backs of your thighs to your ass. With a firm grip, he lifts you up and off his cock. There’s a gentle ache left behind, and your pussy flexes slightly at the loss of him.

“John,” you moan, knowing that instead of getting what you want, you’re about to get the exact opposite.

“Not playing this game, dove,” he replies, voice assertive but not mean.

John lightly plops you down onto the bed. As you reach for him, he rolls away with a slight grunt, standing tall in all his nude glory. He shifts slightly, his hand grasping the base of his cock. He strokes up and down.

“I’m taking care of this,” he says, nodding toward his erection. “While I do that, I want you to have a good think.”

“John,” you whine, and there is no pleasure in it.

He’s already walking toward the bathroom, his hand still pumping steadily. “When I come back, I might just give you what you want, love.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Is it in?”

Johnny blinks, shifting his weight onto an elbow. “I bloody well hope it is,” he says in full seriousness. Shoving your legs higher, Johnny checks like he’s not even sure himself. “Aye,” he confirms. “It’s in.”

Trying not to laugh, you say, “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” His voice rises slightly. “Am I sure?” Johnny moves his hips back and forth. “Can you not feel that?”

Oh, I certainly can.

“I think so?” you reply slowly. “Do it again.” Johnny does. “Maybe a bit harder?” He does exactly as you instruct, and you have to hold back a groan. Johnny has always felt good inside you, a stretch that’s perfectly pleasurable. “Harder?”

Johnny increases the pace, and you nearly choke on your next inhale. “Harder.”

“You—oh. You’re fucking with me.” He tuts. “Having a laugh, are we?”

“No,” you whisper, and then immediately snort as you cover up your face to keep from bursting out in a fit of giggles.

Johnny shakes his head, and immediately pushes off, flopping onto his back.

“Johnny!” you exclaim, this time unable to contain your laugher.

He points to his erect penis. “Get on. You’re doing the work today.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon doesn’t deserve this, but fucking with him a bit will get you what you want. While you can ask for it, getting him worked up enough to fuck you senseless is just as fun.

“Is it—” Simon sighs. “Is it in?” He repeats your question with a loud sigh, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. He gestures downward with a nod. “I’m literally in your guts.”

He’s not wrong. You’re on your back, legs spread wide, hips slightly elevated. Simon is kneeling between your legs. It’s not like you’re on all fours. There is a clear view of where your bodies meet. Even if you truly couldn’t feel it, you’d see it.

You shrug, and Simon shakes his head.

“We’re not doing this today,” he mutters.

With a rough growl, Simon dives in, flattening himself over you. You’re completely pinned, trapped beneath his body. His hips snap back, and then drive forward.

“I know you can fucking feel this,” says Simon, grinding his hips against you on the last word.

You try to hold back a moan as his pelvis rubs against your clit.

“Is it in now, love?” chuckles Simon when you finally moan aloud.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle settles between your legs. Leaning in, he goes for a kiss. One hand slides up your outer thigh, turning inward to press your leg into the bed and open you wider for him. Another kiss, and then he’s sliding home, easing himself inside.

He groans, and though you want to groan with him, it takes every ounce of willpower to hold back.

It takes even more willpower to not crack up at the words that come out of your mouth.

“Is it in?”

Kyle pauses, draws back as if he didn’t hear you correctly. “Is it—” He pauses, stares at you a long moment, mouth slightly open and the middle of his brow creased with concern.

You’re about to ask again but then Kyle starts…laughing.

“Kyle?” He rests his forehead against your shoulder, still chuckling. “Kyle,” you prompt. “Is it in?”

This only makes him laugh harder.

With a little shove, Kyle pushes himself off you and rolls on his back, his cock sliding out of your body. He throws his arm over his eyes, still laughing.

“Kyle,” you try again, but even you start to break, a smile spreading across your face.

“You’re,” he wheezes. “Bloody unbelievable.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @suhmie @z-wantstowrite @kylies-love-letter @keiva1000

@iloveslasher @ravenpoe67 @sadlonelybagel @nishim @arrozyfrijoles23

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @sageyxbabey @glassgulls @miaraei

@weasleytwins-41 @eternallyvenus @chaostwinsofdestruction @cherryofdeath @ninman82

@fern-reads @waves-against-a-cliff @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3

[valeriele3]

Rewind Venti x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Meeting a young bard may have sealed your fate to a never-ending journey through Teyvat. Forever wandering and rewinding time. Fluff/Angst(?) Words: 700

"Hey, how many times have we looped time now?"

"Hmm... This is the 10,039th loop…"

"That much, huh…?"

"Yes."

"How much more do you think we'll need?"

"Possibly a few thousand more, but hopefully this is the last."

"No, this has to be the last."

"Barbatos, if this attempt fails yet again, please take care of things for me."

"Alright. You can rest now. I'll take care of things."

"Ah! Y/N! We meet again"

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Ah—I—I mean, it's fair if you don't"

"After all, the last time we met was way back when we were kids, remember?" He sheepishly says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah, I see…Oh! Could you perhaps be...Lar...Larka...? Yeah, Larka.." you pretended to remember. If you were being honest, you couldn't remember this man or anyone from your past.

All your memories from when you were aged 12 and below were eerily blank.

You wondered if you'd suffer from a head injury, but apparently you hadn't. It felt weird at first.

Like you just woke up from a long slumber. But...ah, how rude.

You've accidentally been staring at the lad while lost in your thoughts.

You look away, embarrassed. "S-Sorry…"

"It's alright, you can stare longer if you want." He playfully winks, making your already red face turn redder.

'Geez, we just met, and I already embarrassed myself.'

'But...strangely, I don't mind it much.'

That was how you "first" met the young lad named "Venti."

He had beautiful turquoise eyes that seemed to hold the winds within, beautiful double-braided hair positioned on each side of his head, a voice that sounded as if it could grasp your heart warmly, and a touch that brought a sense of warmth, comfort, and familiarity.

He was an anomaly to you.

Suddenly appearing in your otherwise bleak life, brightening your world, and filling it with the brightest and most pleasant colors.

Time seemed to pass by slowly, like a glacier. Seemingly frozen in time but moving.

And like glaciers, your life changes, albeit sometimes imperceptibly.

You don't know when it began, but you now often find yourself recollecting memories and experiences that you' swear you've never experienced before.

You felt like you were delusional. Crazy even.

But, if there was one thing you've noticed with these new memories resurfacing, it's that they always seem to predict the future. Like a prophetic dream.

So you've labeled it as that. A power to predict the future. A Prophecy.

Things had been going well. So well, even. And maybe that's why you're in a terrible situation right now. As a payment for all your fortune.

You were trapped in a cave with monsters pouring out endlessly from a hidden domain inside the cave.

How long have you been fighting?

You couldn't count the hours anymore. It felt like hundreds of years had passed already.

Picking up your sword once more, you ready yourself, clinging onto a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe someone would come to your rescue soon.

You just need to hold out for a bit more.

Seeing a mitachurl begin to swing its giant axe at you, you try to dodge, but alas, your tired body had reached its limit.

You couldn't move anymore. Even just holding your sword was draining the last of the energy you had.

'I guess this is it for me…' Closing your eyes, you await the feeling of an axe coming down to slice you in half, but it never comes.

Instead, you felt a calm, gentle breeze.

Opening your eyes, you see what seemed to be the gentle breeze brutally slicing the monsters to pieces. Like a gale.

'Someone..Someone found me..'

'I did it…I survived…' The thought of being saved after long, brutal hours of nonstop fighting hit your body with a wave of exhaustion. Unable to keep yourself up any longer, you collapse on the ground

'Where am I...? '

"Barbatos…! Catch it, it's escaping!"

'Huh? Barbatos...? The Anemo Archon? '

Just then a headache struck you. Like a needle pushing itself further inside you.

'Agh…My head…It hurts…'

"Flowers? For me? Aww, thank you!"

"Barbatos, look! Look! I made you a flower crown and...a matching flower ring just for the two of us."

"Barbatos, what is that?"

"What did you do?!"

"｢⟄ v⟃⟔⟔⋖"

"I'm sorry... Please... Let me turn back the time once more."

"I'll do better the next time!"

"Ah...Ah...No...Not again…I don't want this ending."

Whirr

Click-click

Zzzziiip

"This time, I will save this world from destruction."

"B̷̌̈a̸̓̄ŕ̴̅b̸̑̕a̵̦͛t̷̿̾ó̵̀s̵̎̂will you join me in my perpetual journey?"

Whirr

"Hey, how many times have we looped time now?"

"Hmm... This is the 10,0....."

[aurumacadicus]

Omg. A concept:

"I'm glad you all could make it," Tony said solemnly, hands clasped behind his back as he paced in front of the table.

"You literally texted us all that it was dire," Rhodey deadpanned.

"And then you texted me that I should bring donuts," Happy added, unimpressed.

Tony didn't take it personally. They were all there and Happy had actually stopped and picked up donuts.

Pepper looked even less pleased. "Are you dying again? Because if all of this was to tell me you're dying again, I'm going to be pissed."

Carol blinked, mouth already filled with a cake donut with sprinkles. "Huh?!"

"Don't worry about it," Tony told Carol, just as solemnly as he had before. "This meeting is to inform you all that I will be leaving the country imminently. I have already scheduled to have my appendix out and will be living the rest of my life in Antarctica."

"HUH," Carol barked again.

Pepper tapped at her phone and raised an eyebrow, reluctantly impressed. "Wow. You really did schedule a voluntary appendectomy."

Happy sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, then leaned back in his seat tiredly. "Why are you planning to live out your remaining years in Antarctica?"

Tony sighed the sigh of the supremely put upon, turning to look out one of the windows at the view. "I giggled in front of the Avengers."

There was a brief pause. Carol was frantically chewing to bellow another 'huh' at him, but Rhodey reacted first, instead shrugging and reaching out for a bear claw. "Oh, well, rest in peace, pal."

To Carol's relief, both Happy and Pepper screamed 'what' with her in response.

Rhodey blinked at them placidly. "Guys, he literally says 'heeheehee' when he giggles. He hasn't laughed like that in front of other people since college and a group of girls started teasing him about how cute it is."

"I did not get laid until the memory faded from MIT's collective consciousness," Tony added, nodding. "Girls thought I was adorable and guys made fun of me in mean ways. I forgot myself and now must pay the price."

"You're such a fucking drama queen, Tony," Happy sighed. "And what do you expect to do when you're too old to take care of yourself?"

"Walk onto the tundra and peacefully fall asleep, and perhaps they'll ship the ice cube that is my body back for burial," Tony answered promptly.

"I can't tell if this is a joke or not and it's upsetting," Carol snapped, and Pepper just sighed at her, pitying.

"The room went silent, and Natasha just looked at me and said 'oh' and looked like she might cry," Tony continued, ignoring her. "Clint didn't even make fun of me. He just said 'aw.'"

"Steve must have liked it at least, right?" Pepper asked desperately.

"He crumpled to the floor like I'd personally grabbed his guts and twisted," Tony informed her. He turned to look at Carol and Rhodey. "In any case, I called you here to inform you that the team might need your help more now that I am no longer an option. Pepper, Happy, run the company as you see fit."

"Can I get your Def Leppard vinyls?" Rhodey asked over Carol's frustrated howls.

"Stop fucking encouraging him, Jim," Pepper barked, then was distracted by a text from Steve. "Steve texted me."

"I will hear no arguments. I have already made up my mind," Tony informed her imperiously.

Happy read over her shoulder, shameless. "'Tell Tony I survived seventy years in the ocean and I will come and get him from Antarctica.' How'd he italicize part of a text."

"I think he just radiates disapproval at the screen until it cries uncle," Pepper replied.

Tony considered all of this new information, then decided, "Well. I suppose I'll just have to keep moving. JARVIS, the armor, if you please."

"Captain Rogers has already broken into the lab and dismantled several, and has told me he will leap on any suit I manage to get flying toward you," JARVIS answered promptly.

"I see. Then I will just throw myself from the window now," Tony replied, and both Carol and Happy scrambled up to tackle him.

[sapphiccup]

Never enough!!!

Wc: 1,190

Summary: You’re a well know singer who just got invited to sing at the opera house in Piltover, yet you’re feeling conflicted. Sevika has been a fan since you started, you end up doing something somewhat Political that this society in this au is not very fond of.

Content warning: SFW, Fluff, Councilor Sevika, Strong language, political, emphasizing issues, lesbian yearning. MDNI!

Song: Never enough - The Greatest Showman 🎤🎫

Sevika has always liked your voice, especially that you're currently trying to make a name for yourself, succeeding beyond measure. It started with singing on the streets, to singing at local bars, an ect. However she hasn’t seen you perform in so long, being decided that she’s a councilor now, lots of work to take care of, many arguments. How busy she’s been takes so much time from her. Though, this is a first. She received an invitation from you personally.

Sevika didn’t even think that you’d paid any attention to her when she would show up to one of your gigs. Apparently she was wrong, and utterly dumbfounded that she has a personal invitation.

Inside it was a pamphlet of one of your concerts, and a letter with a lip stain. She lets out a huffed out laugh, still in disbelief that you would not only send her this but an official councilor. She skimmed the pamphlet, reading it carefully.

“A concert that is actually sponsoring a Zaunite to perform on topside. Well, I’ll be damned..”

Quickly moving onto this letter, biting her bottom lip the more she let herself be stirred by your words, not from an assistant, or some random, this was actually your handwriting with your words. It was cute, extremely cute.

‘Haven’t seen you at my concerts lately, how bout’ taking a quick trip to see me again, councilor Vika.’ And don’t think she didn’t notice you putting a heart on the i of her name, instead of a dot. The letter continued, reading the rest with a full heart, she can see that you still got it when it came to words. She found herself feeling the thin paper with her thumb gently touching the inked words, making her way to that lip stain.

Why a lip stain though? She shook her head at the thought that it could mean something more, I mean you never even spoke, barely knowing your actual name by introduction just passing rumors in Zaun before she became a member of the council. Yeah it couldn’t be anything more. Get it together Sevika, she has many people in line for her hand.

You step on stage, ambling your way over to the mic, your hands shaky, nerves telling you this is a mistake, but you do not fold from the amount of cries your being makes, scared to be the ripple. Who cares, who cares if you are to be shunned by society, they’ve already done everything and more to make sure you were seen as nothing more than a sump rat.

A sump rat about to sing on stage… that's exactly what some of them are thinking. Of course, just because Piltover and Zaun fought side by side doesn't mean the implicit, and explicit biases have died out.

Your eyes wander around the room, only seeing a few Zaunites in the crowd, a handful at best, all uncomfortable being amongst so many Pilties. Only a handful of Pilties aren’t upset that we are mingling amongst each other.

You’re tired, you’re tired of it never being enough, never being enough for you, never being enough for them.

You had a song you were going to sing for your reputation, something to bring you more but just before you opened your mouth, you spotted Sevika in the crowd. One Zaunite councilor.. against the rest of them, and she still shows up for us.

No one would have ever thought that Sevika out of every Zaunite would agree to take up that job. But for so long, she’s been trying to fight alongside others to push for what she’s been wanting for her city, her people, for all of Zaun..

Yet, now—Now she’s by herself working hard to go against the oddest of odds for Zaunites. If she can go in the face of that Council everyday. What's so scary to sing, what YOU want to push for your people as well?

To choose yourself and earn a better position for your career? Or, to choose your people, for a long lasting effect that many will feel the need to make the same action, choosing progression.

You let it out, the first lyric, the very lyric that wasn’t the song you were going to sing. It’s on the pamphlets that you would sing something else, something familiar, the shock on their faces are not discouraging you, if anything it’s peeling back something within you, your unmasking for yourself. Fuck it. Fuck it all, there’s nothing wrong with making them acknowledge it? And if they are pissed, it says everything that it’s never enough for them or for you. That something isn’t exactly solved just yet, and that is not your fault. It was never your fault that there’s history that hasn’t been yet resolved.

Many of them whisper amongst themselves that Zaunites should just get over it, but truly, they are just tired of hearing being held accountable. Especially, that it went on for generations, a ruthlessness that most of you didn’t start in the first place.

They want to get back to their safety, to shield themselves from revealing dark truths within them, to not ever face the elephant in the room, or should you say elephants.

Why should you hold yourself back? Why not let it all out right now? How you truly feel.

As the words pour from your lips, it was as if angels pulled gates from the way your voice carried through the walls, hooking the silence and reeling out the truth.

It melts her, it fucking melts her instantaneously. Just like the very first time she heard you, on that street, gathering many with your soft voice, that helped so many sleep at night. Sevika would hum your songs in private just to relax herself. And then sometimes when she closes her eyes listening to your voice, at your concerts she’d confuse herself actually being drifted to the beyond.

Almost like now, except she refuses to shut her eyes at this very moment, not after being so busy to see you again, to hear you again. The way your goddess-like voice carried her by tranquility, the Ab major keys you sang greeting her at the clouded doors, she would accept it without questioning if it was real or not.

Your eyes end up meeting each other, sharing this look, giving her a pearly white smile, taking a deep breath before continuing. You whip your head back to the crowd.

That song carries weight, doubling over the responsibility of defeating the impossible, that your presence will no longer be ignored, that you will be defy laws of societal norms that tried to make your existence die without a question you’re no longer evanesce, your words burn through cotton balls that they’ve stuffed in their ears, years of ignorance, years of putting Zaunites off to a eroding shelf, that no one up to the very task felt a single fuck to even reform.

And boy has it pissed them off.

One of Piltovers representives on the council is already making orders to remove you off stage, Yet, Sevika makes sure those orders are denied. They take one look at her, and know they need to stand back on this one.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

... Make Lemonade

Pairing: Eventual Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Tony Stark x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Tony has trusted you to look after his daughter while he and his ex-wife are busy. The evening doesn’t go quite according to plan when Morgan ends up falling for Bucky.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: makeup (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: in this, Morgan is in middle school.

x

Natasha is a lot of things, and being careful is one of them. She calculates every little decision until she knows it’s the right one. It’s kind of annoying when you want to get drunk and do something stupid, and she’s here going over every possible thing that can go wrong.

So, it’s safe to say neither of you expected this.

Natasha came over the second she had her suspicions, and she hasn’t been able to take her eyes off the pregnancy box in her hands. You don’t know how serious she is about Steve but it must be a lot if she’s not actively trying to run away.

“Maybe you’re not pregnant.”

“I’m a few days late.”

“You’re on birth control.”

“It’s not always effective.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do? Want me to beat his ass?” That brings a smile to her face. “It might not be so bad. You’d make a really good mother.”

“I am not ready to have a kid. What’s Steve going to think when he finds out? We just started going out and now I might be pregnant?”

You don’t hesitate to offer your next suggestion. It doesn’t matter what views you have on the subject, you’re here for her in whatever way she wants.

“Do you want an abortion? There’s a clinic up the street.”

“I don’t even know if I am or not. This box says to wait six days after your missed period to take it.”

“Okay, all we have to do is get through the weekend and then we’ll know. We can do this. It’s just the weekend. Plus, you’ve been late before, so I wouldn’t panic right now.”

Someone knocks on your door and Steve opens the door. Natasha goes rigid next to you, and you shove the pregnancy box between your right thigh and Natasha’s left one.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Just what you were like as a baby,” you say carefully.

“I was a pretty tame baby. Though, my mother always told me she wanted to kill me because of the labor I put her through. I wasn’t exactly small,” he chuckles.

Nastasha groans and falls back into the bed with her hands on her face.

“Get out!”

Steve does so with a confused look.

“I just need a distraction. Being alone by myself or with Steve isn’t going to be good for me. What are you doing today?” she asks and sits back up.

“Well, Tony is allowing Morgan to come over so I can watch her while he goes to a bunch of meetings. His ex-wife can’t watch her so she’s bringing her over here.”

It’s been a couple of months since you and Tony met, and you two have been going… steady. You’re not sure what the right word for it. Tony takes care of you like Natasha said he would, but there’s no spark. You really like him, it’s just that he likes to spend his weekends sipping whiskey and going to the casino while you’d rather go on nature walks or binge watch your favorite tv show. You want to be with your friends and roommates, but this is no place for Tony. He’s too rich and sophisticated to understand what it’s like to live the way you do.

Still, you want to give the relationship a try because you do like him a lot. Plus, Bucky made it clear that he wanted you to pursue this, so instead of fighting it, you’re running with it. It’s not even weird that he’s a lot older than you.

“Are you ready for that?” Natasha asks.

“I’m already her teacher. How hard can it be to watch her?” You leave Natasha alone in your room and join the boys in the kitchen. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal and you hesitate to speak. Why? He's the one who pushed you into this relationship. You were ready to leave. “Hey, what are you guys doing today?”

“Just a bar shift,” Bucky says. “A short one. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Two work meetings,” Steve says. “It should take all day.”

“Not much,” Sam says.

“Okay, look, Tony is allowing Morgan to come over here for the day. His ex-wife is bringing her over right now, so I need you three to be on your best behavior. No cussing. No hookups. No walking around half-naked. No talking about sex. Dinner is going to be at five promptly so don’t be late.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll be good boys,” Bucky smirks.

Those words shouldn’t have such an effect on you, but here you are. Before you have thoughts of Bucky being a good boy, your phone rings.

“Oh, Pepper is here. Please be good.” You practically race downstairs and meet Pepper outside who is getting Morgan ready for the day. “Pepper! Hi!”

“Oh, hi, Y/N! Thank you so much for agreeing to watch her. If you need me to be, I can be here in ten minutes.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” you smile. “Thank you for letting me watch her.”

“Honestly? I usually have a babysitter but she’s out of town. My husband has meetings all day. You’re her favorite teacher, and my husband’s favorite teacher,” Pepper mutters the last part.

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously. “Listen, I hope this isn’t rude or anything, but you keep saying ‘husband’ and I want to make sure that you and Tony aren’t still together.”

Pepper tips her head back and laughs loudly but fakely. It’s like she found offense yet amusement in what you just said.

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Tony and I are very much divorced.”

“Okay, good, because I don’t want to miss anything important.”

Pepper leaves Morgan in your care and drives off, and you take the young girl back to your apartment. Why are you so nervous? Is it because of Natasha and her baby drama? Is it because of the very real possibility that the boys could be home and influence Morgan in a bad way? Or is it because you don’t want Bucky to see you with Morgan knowing you’re trying to make it work with Tony?

Sam is already gone by the time you get back, but Natasha, Steve, and Bucky are still here. He’s literally on his way out the door when you walk inside.

“Remember, dinner is at five!”

“I’ll be there!”

“Okay, Morgan, I don’t know about you, but how do you feel about makeovers? It’s never too young to learn about makeup.”

“Sounds fun,” she grins. “My mom and I do that all the time. Every weekend at a spa.”

“Okay, well, this place isn’t as fancy as a spa but I do have a lot of products.”

Bucky walks out of his room and Morgan looks like she has stars in her eyes. You get it. He’s very attractive.

“Okay, I’m bringing a date to dinner tonight. Her name is Ashley.”

“No, you’re not,” you say. “You’re not going to bring women around Morgan.”

Bucky looks at her and smiles politely. “Hi. You must be Morgan.”

“Hi,” she says shyly.

“Look, Ashley is a good girl. She’s smart and mature. She studies art and she’s very intuitive.”

You ignore the shiver running down your spine when he says ‘good girl’. You know he didn't mean anything by it, but it makes you think about him calling you his good girl. Get a grip, Y/N! You’re with Tony! Bucky grabs his keys and he bids adieu as he leaves for his short shift at the bar.

“Okay, Morgan, let me get some of my makeup. Be right back.”

Most of your makeup is in the bathroom in a dedicated corner the boys made for you. They got sick and tired of your shit cluttering up the sinks. When you return with your hands full, Morgan isn’t there.

“Morgan?”

You set the makeup on the coffee table and go look for her. She’s in your bedroom just looking at the different trinkets you have in there. Yours and Sam’s room is the biggest with Steve’s being the smallest. Steve’s room is supposed to be used for a large office, but they converted it into a bedroom.

“Can I get out of homework since you’re dating my dad?”

“No.” You walk further into the room and sit on the edge of the bed. “Look, I know it must be weird for your teacher to date your dad, but just know you can ask me anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, anything,” you smile.

“Are you in love with my dad?” You purse your lips but you don’t answer that. “Do you and my dad ever dry-lump?”

“What?” you ask, partially shocked.

“Is sexting cool?”

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Have you done a 99?”

“I think that’s a tax form…”

“Have you ever given anyone plow jobs?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“How do you make love to a person animal-style?”

“All great questions, I’m sure. Why don’t we go do makeovers now? Save the questions for your mother.” You bring Morgan back into the living room where you set out your makeup supplies. “Listen, I don’t think you should be rushing into these things.” She is looking at you with wide curious eyes. “As your friend, Y/N, not Ms. Y/L/N, just find someone who makes you laugh.”

“Like Bucky?”

“Yeah, I mean… wait, what?”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God, I love Bucky so, so, so much. He’s so hot.”

You can’t believe your ears right now. “Excuse me?”

“I just want to rub my face on his face,” she groans and falls onto the couch.

Steve’s bedroom door opens and Natasha walks out while talking on the phone.

“No, Steve, I’m not saying I don’t want to go on a date with you. I’m just saying that I think we should wait. Don’t you think this is moving a little fast?” She pauses. “I did not say I didn’t like you! Are you not listening to a goddamn word I’m saying?”

“Nat, not now, okay?” you hiss.

“Steve, will you just listen to yourself? I never said I didn’t like you or that we shouldn’t see each other. I just said maybe we should slow down. We’ve been moving pretty fast, and I don’t know… I just…” She pauses. “Steve, I swear to God.”

“Nat, what’s going on?” you ask.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

Natasha hangs up the phone and stalks back into his room and slams the door. You’re about to go to her when Morgan sits back up.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I love Bucky so, so, so much. I’m gonna die!”

“Morgan, Bucky is way too old for you. I live with him. He doesn’t always pick up after himself, and he has a metal arm!” Morgan jumps up from the couch and runs toward Bucky’s room. “Morgan! Don’t go in there!” She slams the door behind her and locks it. “Morgan, please come out.”

Steve’s bedroom door opens and Natasha walks over to you with red eyes.

“Steve asked me on a date. A really expensive, romantic one.”

Natasha never cries over men so Steve must be pretty special if she’s going through all this trouble for him. She’s rambling on about how she doesn’t know if she can do this and how she’s moving too fast while Morgan is rambling on about she loves Bucky and wants to do all sorts of things to him like a 99.

“Morgan, please!” you say and hit the door lightly.

“Listen up, you little brat,” Natasha shouts. “You need to be quiet right now because I need my friend to focus on me right now!”

“Natasha!” you gasp. “I am trying really hard to move on and see other men, so you know how much this means to me. Don’t ruin it, please.”

Natasha takes a step back and her eyes widen in fear. She must have it bad for Steve because you’ve never seen her behave like this. She’s usually so calm and collected but right now, she’s freaking out.

“I’m gonna be a terrible mother,” she whispers.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to be a great mother.”

“I’m gonna make this right, okay. I’m gonna fix this.” She clears her throat. “Morgan? Listen, you really shouldn’t be having sex right now at your age,” your eyes widen and you try to shut her up, “but when you do, make sure you always use protection because even though you know better and he says it’s all gonna be fine, you’re just gonna end up pregnant, anyway!”

“What?” You and Natasha look behind her to see Steve standing there with wide eyes. “Nat, are you pregnant?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t taken the test yet, but I am late. Excuse me.”

Natasha leaves without another word. Dinner is almost ready, which means Sam and Bucky should be coming back soon. Morgan, having been done with exploring his room, comes out with a happy smile on her face. You take her to the kitchen to get dinner ready while Steve leaves the apartment.

“Sorry you had to hear all that,” you say to Morgan.

“It’s okay. I liked it. My feelings haven’t changed, though. Don’t you think Bucky is hot?”

“Bucky?” Your voice trembles but you try to keep it steady. “Yeah in a… you know… he’s alright I guess.”

“How is he like in the morning? Is he sleepy? Does he like stuff? I want to love what he loves.” She pauses and grabs water for the table. “Do you think we’ll ever do it animal-style?”

“God,” you whisper. “Dinner is almost ready!”

Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Bucky’s date all arrive right before the table is set. The air is already thick with tension, with the way Natasha is barely eating and Morgan is sending glares at Chloe from across the table.

“So, how was work, Bucky?” you ask.

Before he can answer, Morgan speaks up. “Are you and Bucky making love?”

“What?” he asks, shocked.

“Who wants some juice? That’s my question,” you speak loudly.

“Yeah, we’d love juice. Thanks, Y/N,” Bucky nods.

Despite your question, you don’t get up to get some juice. You’re afraid Morgan will jump the table and attack Chloe if you take your eyes off her. Chloe tries looking away but Morgan won’t let her off that easily.

“Hey! I’m watching you.”

“I made a pie earlier. Who wants dessert?” you ask.

You’re about to get up when Chloe gets up first.

“Don’t worry, I’ll ge tit. I don’t mind,” she smiles.

“Oh, thank you. That’s so thoughtful.” You look at Morgan. “Morgan? Want to help her get the dessert?”

“I hate her,” she grumbles.

“Oh, come on, you don’t know her well enough to hate her.”

“Yes, I do. I know her. She used to ride on my school bus.”

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Oh, right, I remember you!” Chloe grins and returns to the table with the pie. “You were that crazy little kindergartner with the imaginary friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Morgan chuckles. “You’re the skank witht he skank face.”

“Morgan,” you hiss. “I understand you’re trying to look cool in front of you know who…”

You give bucky a side eye which basically means shit to Morgan. Her eyes widen in horror and she jumps up from the table.

“What?! You told him?”

“No, I didn't.”

“You just did! Oh, my God, Y/N!”

Morgan runs off to your room and slams the door behind her dramatically. Bucky wants to know what’s happening but he has to take care of his own issues first. He turns to Chloe with an uneasy smile.

“When was the last time you were on a school bus?”

“Last year.”

“How old are you?” Steve asks.

“Eighteen.”

You know Bucky is regretting his decision to bring an eighteen-year-old home, but you can’t help but tease him a bit.

“You know what? I think I subbed for one of your classes once.”

“You’re right!” She grins. “Hi, Ms. Y/N!”

“Stop,” Bucky whispers.

Dinner is over. You’re not even sure it began. This whole thing was a mistake. Morgan refuses to come out of your room, Natasha is an emotional mess, Sam tried to stay out of it as best as he can, and Bucky and Steve are in the kitchen alone. Pepper texts you that she’s downstairs to pick up her daughter and you’re overwhelmed. You storm into the kitchen angrily and glare at the two men.

“This whole thing is a disaster! Pepper just texted me that she’s downstairs.” You look at Bucky. “Morgan is locked in my room because she fell in love with you for some unknown reason! I’m mad at you because you couldn’t keep it wrapped up and now Natasha is freaking out.” They start talking over each other but you’re not done. “Shut up! Both of you! Here’s what we’re going to do. Steve, you’re going to go down there and stall Pepper. Bucky, you’re coming with me to get Morgan out of my room. Now.”

You and Bucky walk to your room and sit on the ground because you know this is going to take a while.

“Morgan, you need to come out of there. Look, I know you think you’re in love with me, but I can assure you that you’re not. You’re going to find someone better, I promise.”

“No, I won’t! I never will!”

Bucky looks at you and he shrugs, not knowing what to do now.

“Tell her something about life. Please? I can’t lose Tony.”

Bucky briefly looks at your lips before looking away. He can’t mess this up for you because he’s too chicken to tell you how he feels.

“Morgan, listen.” He looks into your eyes. “I haven’t loved someone the way you love me in a very long time. You should hold onto these feelings because they’re good feelings, but they’re misplaced. You should want to be with someone who makes your whole day better. Someone who you can tell everything to because they don’t make you feel judged. I’m not that person for you.”

Suddenly, you can’t breathe. He’s saying this to her but you feel like he’s talking to you. You’re sitting so close to him and all you want to do is melt in his arms. Bad girl, Y/N. You’re with Tony! Yeah, you know.

“Morgan, come out, please.”

The door opens and you hold yourself back from falling to the ground. Just then the front door opens and Steve rushes into the apartment.

“Pepper! Welcome to our home,” you say and get up.

Pepper looks stressed enough as it is. It must have been a bad day for her at work.

“Thank you for watching after Morgan.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I had fun,” she smiles at you.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in school.”

As soon as Pepper and Morgan leave, you sag your shoulders in defeat. This has been such a disaster. Steve and Natasha walk into his room to talk while you go into yours.

“So, you got your period?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

“Look, I know it might seem like we’re rushing but I really like you, Nat. Like, a lot. I don’t want to lose you so if you think things are going fast, we’ll slow down.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” he smiles.

Natasha leans in and kisses him slowly. Judging by the silence coming from their room, you know they’ve made up. You’re fiddling with your phone, wondering if you should call Tony and tell him what happened tonight. Will he break up with you? Will he think you’re not mother material? A knock sounds at your door and you look up at Bucky.

“I’m sorry for ruining this entire thing.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m pretty sure I screwed it up. Maybe I’m not ready to be a mom. At this rate, I’ll have kids when I’m eighty.”

Bucky leans against the door frame and crosses his arms, making his muscles look bigger. God, you’re fucking screwed. How can you ever hold down a relationship with Tony if you’re so hung up on Bucky?

“If anyone is ready to be a parent, it’s you.” You smile at him. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night,” you whisper.

If you can just try and make it work with Tony, then you’ll forget all about your little crush on Bucky.

x

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[stygiusfic]

early morning writing hack (real) (it's been working for about a month now):

think about the scene you're going to work on that morning not when you sit down to write, but the previous evening. this is daydreaming but with purpose. think about what might happen and how the characters feel about it. get excited. don't write a single word.

go about your evening normally, doing whatever else you do. your subconscious is a slow cooker and while you do other stuff, it's working on your idea for you.

get up early, like an hour before you'd need to start your day if you were cutting it close. everyone else in the world is snoozing their alarm, so no one can bother you rn. you're free! no one can judge your writing, not even you!

(optional i guess but it really helps me) unless the first few words of your scene are already clear in your mind, warm up. I've abandoned the idea of warm-up drabbles or whatever the hell people recommend. instead, I pull up a story by someone whose writing I love, and I type out a fragment of it in a blank doc, reading the words out loud as I go. this wakes up my writing brain as I become aware of how their prose and dialogue work their magic, when and where they reveal new information, how each detail leads to the next. I'd advise doing this with work that is of high quality and purposeful, so you can learn their tricks, but I'm not the boss of you.

write!!!!!!!

don't stop to judge if it's good or not!! it's too early for that shit!! if the draft sucks you can fix it later but you need the draft done first!!

do stop once yesterday evening's daydreaming prep has run out and you're out of steam. (sometimes the momentum can reveal the next part of the story you hadn't actively considered yet, but don't depend on it.) if you hit a wall where you have no idea how to continue, or it's still too vague to put words down, trying to push through will only bring frustration. and even if you do manage to write a bit more, the chances you'll end up scrapping it later because it doesn't fit are significant. just call it there, you're done.

take a minute to appreciate what you accomplished. you now have words you didn't have yesterday. you won the day, and meanwhile everyone else is still asleep, the absolute losers

if you use a word tracker, go ahead and input your word count for the day. maybe you got a lot done, or maybe you didn't; it's a victory either way. on mornings when I've been struggling, writing and then erasing and writing again, if I'm too pissed off to check the word count I just put down a symbolic number, like 50 words. it may not look like much, but when I look at the month's stats it feels good to have proof that I showed up and did the thing even when it was hard.

now you can start your day. and frankly at this point I don't give a shit how annoying my day is, because I already did the thing I care about getting done, so I'm not going through work resenting every task for stealing brain juice I could've used for writing in the evening. "I'll write when I'm done with work" is the ADHD hubris devil speaking.

and now it's the evening and you're free to daydream again!! and use absolutely zero brain power!! wheee!!

[aspenmissing]

Hey! I really love your work! Can I request a fic with whichever arcane characters you like (but I’d really like to see Jayvik and Jinx) with a transmasc reader who just got top surgery?

ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5232 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ, ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ! ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴍᴀꜱᴄ, ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴅᴏ! ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The first thing you feel when you wake up isn’t pain—it’s warmth.

A large hand, calloused but gentle, cradles yours, thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. The scent of something familiar—metal and a hint of oil, mixed with the comforting scent of Jayce—lingers in the air. It makes you feel safe before your mind even fully catches up to consciousness.

You blink, groggy from the lingering anesthesia, and try to move, but the moment you shift even slightly, Jayce’s grip tightens just a fraction. Not forceful—just enough to remind you he’s there.

“Hey—whoa, whoa, easy.” His voice is soft, but firm, filled with that quiet kind of concern he only ever shows when it’s just the two of you. “Don’t push yourself.”

The world feels slow, foggy, but the dull ache in your chest grounds you. There’s pressure, a tightness from the bandages, but the pain is distant, numbed by whatever meds the doctors gave you. And then, like the sun rising over the horizon, it hits you.

It’s done.

It’s really done.

A shaky breath escapes your lips, uneven, overwhelmed, and Jayce must notice because his free hand moves to your face, fingers brushing your cheek as he leans over. His dark eyes, usually filled with the fire of ambition and innovation, are softer now—completely focused on you. Like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

You are.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You try to answer, but your throat is dry, and your body still feels heavy. Instead, you squeeze his hand, grounding yourself in his presence. He lets out a soft laugh—relieved, affectionate—as he squeezes back.

“I’d ask if it hurts,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice, “but I already know you’d lie and say you’re fine.”

You huff a small laugh, but it makes your chest twitch, and you wince. Jayce reacts instantly, his grip firm but careful as he helps you settle back against the pillows. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure you’re okay—he already knows what you need, how much space to give, how much support to offer.

“So…” His voice dips into something more serious, more intimate. “How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, slow and steady. It’s strange, the way your body adjusts to the absence of something that had weighed you down for so long. But more than the physical difference, more than the ache of fresh scars, you feel relief.

“Lighter,” you whisper.

Jayce exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath since the moment you went into surgery. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, his warmth seeping into your skin. There’s something unspoken in his expression, something deep and aching.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

Your throat tightens—not from pain, but from the sheer weight of those words. You glance down, instinctively wanting to check, but the layers of bandages make it impossible to see. Jayce is already moving, adjusting the pillows behind you, making sure you’re comfortable before you even ask.

“You’re supposed to let me take care of you for once, remember?” he teases, but there’s no real bite to his words, only warmth.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real fight in it. You’re exhausted, sore, and yet… you feel lighter than you ever have. And Jayce is right here, the steady presence you never have to question.

His warmth. His patience. His unwavering belief in you.

You lean into his touch when he brushes your hair back from your face. His fingers trail down, tracing the side of your jaw before coming to rest against your cheek.

“Just… stay?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Jayce doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even let you second-guess it.

“Always.”

And with that, he leans down, pressing the lightest, most reverent kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of his presence, the quiet hum of his breathing, the safety in knowing he’s right here.

=

Time passes in slow, dreamlike waves. He doesn’t leave your side, not even for a second.

At some point, you stir again, and Jayce is already there, pressing a cup of water to your lips. “Sip,” he instructs, tilting it just enough.

The water is cool, refreshing, and you sigh against the rim of the cup. Jayce sets it down and smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You scared the hell out of me, you know.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Jayce…”

He shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I knew you’d be okay. I did. But—” He exhales sharply, looking at you with something so raw in his expression that it makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with the surgery. “I didn’t realize how much I was holding my breath until you opened your eyes.”

Your heart clenches. You reach for his hand again, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “I’m okay.”

Jayce nods, but the emotion in his eyes doesn’t waver. He lifts your hand to his lips again, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “Yeah,” he breathes against your skin. “You are.”

Silence settles between you, but it’s the kind that speaks volumes. You let yourself rest, eyes fluttering closed as Jayce’s fingers trail absentmindedly over the back of your hand. You don’t know how long you lay there, basking in the weightlessness of it all, but when you stir again, Jayce is still there.

He shifts in his seat, adjusting himself so he can sit closer, his large frame fitting perfectly beside you. When you lean into him, he doesn’t hesitate to move, carefully pulling you into his chest, mindful of your stitches. His arms encircle you, strong and steady, and for the first time in a long time, you feel truly at home.

“You know,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your hair, “I was thinking… When you’re feeling up to it, we should celebrate.”

You raise a brow, smirking slightly. “Celebrate how?”

Jayce chuckles. “However you want. A quiet night in? A fancy dinner? Hell, I’ll throw a whole damn parade if that’s what you want.”

You laugh, the sound light and airy, and Jayce grins like he’s just heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

“A parade might be overkill,” you tease, voice still slightly hoarse but full of warmth. “But… I like the idea of celebrating.”

“Good.” He squeezes your hand again, voice quieter now. “Because you deserve it.”

The sincerity in his voice wraps around you like a second layer of warmth, and for the first time in forever, you don’t feel the weight of something that doesn’t belong to you.

You don’t feel like you’re waiting for something to change.

You feel whole.

And with Jayce by your side, you think you always will.

VIKTOR

The lab smelled like metal and ozone, a scent Viktor had long associated with home. The hum of machinery filled the space, familiar and steady, yet today, something else clung to the air—warmth, comfort, a quiet sense of triumph.

He hadn't been able to focus much on his work today, not with Y/N sitting just a few feet away, their presence demanding his attention in a way that had nothing to do with distraction and everything to do with devotion.

"You shouldn’t be moving so much," Viktor murmured, arms loosely crossed as he leaned against the table. His golden eyes studied them with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, a look he often wore when Y/N was being particularly stubborn.

Y/N sat on a stool near the workbench, their posture relaxed but tinged with a lingering soreness. Their newly healed chest was bare save for the light bandages that wrapped around their torso, a testament to a battle won—not against an enemy, but against the weight of a body that had never quite felt like home.

They stretched their arms, rolling their shoulders experimentally, testing the limits of their movement. A small wince betrayed them, but they still smirked. "I can handle it."

Viktor scoffed, the sound soft and amused. "You say that, and yet you winced."

Without another word, he limped forward, carefully placing his cane aside before lowering himself to his knees in front of them. The movement was slow, deliberate, but his focus never wavered. His hands, calloused from years of crafting, hovered hesitantly at their sides.

His touch was always cautious with them. There was an undeniable sharpness to Viktor—his mind, his words, the way he pushed the boundaries of science and progress—but with Y/N, he was something softer, something careful.

Y/N chuckled, catching one of his hands and guiding it forward until his palm rested against their newly flattened chest. The breath Viktor exhaled was shaky, reverent. His fingers ghosted over healing skin, tracing along the edges of bandages as if committing them to memory.

"You are incredible," he murmured, thumb brushing over a faded bruise near their ribs. His voice was barely above a whisper, as though speaking any louder might break the moment.

Y/N let out a breath, their heart stuttering at the sincerity in his tone. "I feel incredible," they admitted, their voice steady despite the overwhelming emotion welling in their chest. "Like myself. Like… I can finally breathe."

Viktor’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile, something unguarded and deeply tender. "Good," he said, as if it were the most important thing in the world. "Then I shall do my best to keep you in one piece, even if that means forcing you to rest."

Y/N rolled their eyes. "You and your obsession with making me take it easy—"

Before they could finish, Viktor silenced them in the best way he knew how—with a kiss.

His hands cradled their jaw, fingers curling against their skin, holding them like something precious. The kiss was slow, lingering, deliberate. There was no rush, no urgency—just Viktor taking his time, mapping out every inch of them, learning them in ways no machine, no invention, ever could.

Y/N melted into it, their fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. Viktor hummed against their lips, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down their spine.

When he finally pulled away, his breath fanned against their lips, warm and steady. "I will always fight for your happiness, milý," he murmured, voice softened in the way it only ever was for them. "You have given me more reasons to believe in the future than science ever has." (Dear)

Y/N’s heart clenched, emotion thick in their throat. They leaned in, resting their forehead against his. "You’re such a sap," they teased, though their voice wavered, betraying just how much his words meant.

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, pressing another kiss to their lips, softer this time. "Only for you."

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in the quiet hum of the lab, in the warmth of each other's presence. The world outside could wait. Piltover’s demands could wait.

Healing wasn’t easy. It was slow and aching and sometimes frustrating beyond belief. But with Viktor beside them, hands steady against their skin, gaze filled with nothing but pride and love, Y/N felt like they could take on anything.

Together.

JAYVIK

The dim glow of the lamplight cast a warm haze over the room, the three of you sitting together in front of the mirror. Your shirt lay discarded beside you, the air cool against your skin, but the warmth of their presence balanced it out. Viktor sat cross-legged beside you, careful in his movements as he adjusted his brace-clad leg, his cane resting against the nearby dresser. His golden eyes were fixated on your reflection, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your scars with a feather-light touch. Jayce knelt behind you, his hands steady on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

You swallowed hard, staring at the scars that stretched across your chest. The sight still felt new, unfamiliar in some ways, even though you'd spent hours looking at them before. But this was different. This time, you weren't alone.

"You're staring," you murmured, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Viktor hummed, his fingers pressing a little more firmly as he traced each scar with careful reverence. "Of course. They are beautiful."

A small, sharp breath left you. He said it with such certainty, as if there were no room for argument. As if it were fact.

Jayce’s arms tightened around you, pulling you against his chest. His chin rested atop your head, his voice soft as he spoke. "Yeah, they are. You are."

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slightly. "I don’t know if ‘beautiful’ is the word I’d use."

Viktor finally met your gaze in the mirror, brow quirking slightly. "Then you are simply wrong," he said, his usual sharp wit softened by the tenderness in his voice. "It is not just the scars themselves. It is what they mean. What they represent. The fact that you fought for them."

Jayce pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. "You fought for this body, for yourself. And we love you. Every part of you."

The lump in your throat thickened, and you let out a shaky breath, your fingers brushing over Viktor’s hand as it rested over your heart. You tilted your head back against Jayce’s shoulder, feeling the slow, steady beat of your own pulse beneath their touch.

For so long, you had fought to be seen as you truly were. And now, here you were, held by two men who saw you, all of you, and loved you without hesitation.

You let yourself relax further, melting into Jayce’s warmth as he ran his hands along your arms, pressing light kisses into your shoulder. Viktor shifted beside you, adjusting his leg with a small wince before settling comfortably. His hand, steady despite the slight tremor in his fingers, rested over your scars once more.

"Does it still hurt?" Viktor asked softly, his gaze flicking from the mirror to your chest and back again.

You exhaled, considering the question. "Not really. Sometimes. Some tightness here and there, but mostly... it just feels like me now."

Jayce hummed in understanding, his broad palms covering your own where they rested in your lap. "Healing takes time. But you've come so far already."

Viktor's thumb brushed along one of the scars, tracing it as though he were reading something deeply important. "You are remarkable, you know that? I have seen people build machines, cities, legacies. And yet, what you have built for yourself—the strength you have shown—it is more inspiring than anything else."

Your breath hitched at his words, the honesty in them hitting you like a slow, warming wave. You had always known Viktor to be a man of sharp intellect, of curiosity and wit, but when he loved, he loved with every careful word and action. And Jayce, ever steady and unwavering, held you as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

You swallowed past the tightness in your throat, squeezing both of their hands. "I... I don’t know what I did to deserve you two."

Jayce chuckled, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Funny. We were thinking the same thing about you."

Viktor smirked, leaning his weight slightly against your side, as if sharing his presence more fully. "We are quite lucky, I think."

You smiled at your reflection, at them, at yourself. "Yeah," you whispered, voice steady. "I fought for this. And I wouldn’t change a thing."

Viktor’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk, his hand lingering over your heart for just a moment longer before settling against your side. Jayce nuzzled into your hair, his arms never faltering in their hold around you.

Together, the three of you sat in the quiet, basking in the moment, in each other.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt whole.

VANDER

The dim lantern light cast a soft glow over the bedroom, flickering shadows dancing on the aged wooden walls. The world outside the Last Drop was quiet for once, the usual clamour of Zaun’s underbelly fading into a distant hum.

It was rare to find peace like this. No shouting from the bar below, no fights breaking out in the alleys. Just the slow, steady rhythm of breath and the warmth of a man who had long since carved a space in your heart.

Vander lay beside you, his heavy frame sinking into the mattress, one arm draped lazily but securely around your waist. His head rested against your bare chest, his beard tickling slightly where it pressed against your skin. He smelled of ale, smoke, and something distinctly him—the scent you had come to associate with home.

His breathing was slow, steady. You weren’t even sure if he was still awake, the rise and fall of his chest almost lulling you to sleep yourself. But then he shifted, burrowing just a little deeper into you, arms tightening as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

It made you smile—how someone so strong, so feared in Zaun’s underworld, could be so tender with you. With those he loved.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Words weren’t necessary. The creak of the bed, the distant drip of a leaky pipe, the gentle rustle of fabric as Vander’s fingers traced absentminded patterns along your waist—it was enough.

Still, something tugged at the back of your mind, a question you hadn’t realized was lingering there until the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"You gonna miss my pillows?"

The way Vander huffed out a breath—it wasn’t quite a laugh, but something close—told you he was awake after all. He didn’t lift his head immediately, just turned his face slightly, his lips ghosting over your skin.

"Mm… Nah," he murmured, voice rough with sleep. There was no hesitation in it, no doubt. Just fact.

Still, you felt his fingers twitch against your ribs before he shifted, finally tilting his head up to meet your gaze. His tired blue eyes searched yours, shining with something unreadable in the low light. The kind of look that made your breath hitch—like he saw right through you, past the words, straight to what you meant to ask.

"Never needed ‘em," he continued, voice softer now. His calloused fingers brushed along your side, feather-light despite the strength they held. "This? You? That’s all I ever wanted."

The warmth that bloomed in your chest was unlike anything else. Not just comfort or relief, but something deeper. Something raw.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, exhaling softly as you let your fingers weave into his silver-streaked hair. Tugging him just a little closer, you murmured, "Good… 'cause I don’t regret it for a second."

"Nor should you." His lips brushed against your chest then, a slow, deliberate kiss pressed just above your heartbeat. "You look damn good, love. Feel good too."

A short laugh escaped you, but your pulse betrayed how much his words meant. How much he meant.

Vander took his time tracing the new lines of your body, the dips and scars that were now fully your own. He never hesitated, never treated you as anything less than whole—than his. His hands were big, rough, but gentle, running over your ribs, your sides, your hips as if to memorize you all over again.

"Soft here," he mused, voice thick with sleep as he brushed his fingers along your skin. "Strong here." A slow drag of his palm down your side, settling at your waist. "Mine here."

Your breath caught, and he chuckled, deep and warm.

"Vander," you grumbled, rolling your eyes, but there was no real bite to it.

"What?" He smirked, shifting so that his arms wrapped more firmly around you, pulling you flush against him. "Just sayin’ the truth."

Then, as if proving a point, he burrowed against your chest again, sighing contentedly. "Reckon I got new pillows right here."

You scoffed, but the way his breath fanned over your skin sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel his smile against you, that damn teasing grin he always wore when he knew he had you right where he wanted.

"You sap," you muttered, though your arms curled around him all the same, fingers threading through his hair again, massaging lightly at his scalp.

His grip around your waist tightened just slightly. "Damn right," he murmured against your skin. "And you love it."

…He wasn’t wrong.

Silence settled over you both again, but it wasn’t empty—it was full, heavy with meaning. Vander’s breaths evened out, though his hold on you never loosened. He wouldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

SILCO

The mirror was cruel.

Y/N had never thought it would be—not after years of waiting, of dreaming, of aching for the moment they could finally look at themselves and feel whole.

Yet here they stood, candlelight flickering across the reflection of their bare chest, tracing the raised, pink scars left behind by the surgeon’s blade. The ache was fading, the stitches long since removed, but a deeper, nameless uncertainty had settled beneath their skin.

Their fingers hovered over the ridges, the places where something once was but no longer remained. The weight had lifted—so why did it feel so heavy?

They weren’t alone for long.

Silco’s presence filled the dimly lit room like a whisper of smoke, carrying with it the scent of oil, damp stone, and something uniquely his—sharp, commanding, yet careful in a way most never saw. He had always been careful with Y/N.

His hands, rough and calloused from years of war and survival, settled gently on their shoulders. Not possessive, not forceful—just there. A quiet offering. His reflection appeared behind them, his mismatched gaze heavy with something unreadable.

"You’ve been standing here for a while," he murmured, voice low, edged with something softer than concern, but no less intense.

Y/N swallowed, their throat tight. "I… don’t know what’s wrong with me." Their voice was steady, but the words felt fractured. "I wanted this. I needed this. And now that it's done, I—I just feel… I don’t know."

Silco said nothing at first, only watching. He had always known when to speak and when to listen. He had watched them fight for this, had held them through sleepless nights riddled with pain and anticipation. And now, he watched as they doubted something they had once burned for.

"You’ve spent so long wanting," he finally said, his grip firming just slightly. "It’s only natural that the silence afterward feels strange."

Y/N’s fingers curled over their scars. "What if I regret it?" The words felt small, like they didn’t belong to them. They hated the way their chest tightened around the thought.

Silco’s grip moved then, trailing down their arms, steadying them. He leaned in, his breath warm against the nape of their neck.

"Do you?"

They opened their mouth—hesitated. "I don’t know."

Silco’s lips barely ghosted against their skin, just enough to ground them. "Then let’s find out."

His hands slipped lower, fingers curling around their wrists as he turned them away from the mirror. Enough. Enough of the reflection that felt like a battlefield. Enough of the spiral eating them alive.

Y/N let him lead them away, past the flickering candlelight and onto the bed they shared. The mattress dipped beneath them as Silco settled beside them, his hand resting over theirs, grounding them in the way only he could.

"Lie back," he murmured. It wasn’t a command, but an invitation.

Y/N hesitated before obeying, sinking into the sheets, their chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The air between them was thick with something unspoken.

Silco’s fingers brushed over their skin first—so light, so reverent it almost didn’t feel real. He traced the curve of their shoulder, then the faint ridges of the scars that marked their chest. The hesitation in Y/N’s breathing didn’t go unnoticed.

"You are not less for doubting," Silco murmured, pressing the first kiss just below the hollow of their throat. "You are not broken for grieving what you’ve lost, even if you chose to lose it."

Y/N exhaled shakily, their body tensing, then slowly unwinding beneath his touch. His lips trailed lower, ghosting over the scars as though sealing them with something sacred.

"These are a part of you now," he continued, his voice rasping between each press of his lips. "But they do not define you. Not more than your strength. Not more than the way you fight. Not more than the way you love."

Y/N shuddered at the warmth of his mouth against them. At the gentleness of a man who had never been known for it. He had never treated them like they were fragile, even now, when they felt like they were.

"You are still mine," Silco murmured, pulling back just enough to meet their gaze, his mismatched eyes sharp and unyielding. "Scars and all."

Y/N blinked up at him, their chest tight in a different way now—not from fear, not from regret, but from the overwhelming depth of his devotion.

Tears burned at the edges of their vision, but they didn’t fight them. Not with him.

Silco caught their jaw between his fingers, tilting their face toward him. "Say it," he murmured.

Y/N swallowed. "I’m still yours."

Something flickered in Silco’s expression, something too deep to name. His lips pressed against their forehead, lingering there as if binding them to the promise.

Y/N closed their eyes and let themselves believe it.

And for now—that was enough.

JINX

Jinx had a habit—an obsession, really—with finding the perfect clothes for Y/N. Not just any clothes, but ones that made a statement. Something bold, something loud, something that screamed confidence louder than a Zaunite explosion.

And right now, she was shoving yet another sleeveless crop top into his hands.

“C’mon, c’mon, try it on!” Jinx’s grin was wild as she bounced on the balls of her feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

Y/N raised a brow at the article of clothing, noting the jagged lightning design across the chest. It was, admittedly, kind of sick. He rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. “You really like showing off my scars, huh?”

Jinx threw her hands in the air like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Uh, yeah? They’re badass! Like battle scars, except instead of ‘ow ow pain’ it’s ‘fuck yeah, I look awesome!’”

Y/N snorted. “You have a weird way of putting things.”

Jinx just grinned wider. “I’m a weird gal.”

With a shake of his head, Y/N pulled off his hoodie and tugged the crop top over his head. It fit perfectly, hugging his frame just right, stopping just above his waistline. Jinx let out a delighted whoop, clapping her hands together.

“See?! Told ya! You look so cool, like—like some rebel hero from one of those old comic books Vi used to hoard.” She circled him, taking in the whole look, nodding to herself in approval. “People are gonna take one look at you and go ‘Damn, I wish I had that kinda confidence.’”

Y/N huffed a laugh, feeling warmth spread in his chest—not just from her words but from the fact that she really, truly meant them. Jinx was loud and chaotic, but when she cared, she cared.

He glanced at the pile of other sleeveless and cropped clothes Jinx had clearly been collecting for him, and despite himself, he smiled.

“…You really went all out, huh?”

“Duh!” Jinx flicked his forehead, grinning. “Gotta make sure my best guy looks rad as hell! Now c’mon, we’re showing this off! You, me, top of the tallest building in Zaun. Let’s make ‘em all look up.”

Y/N shook his head but didn’t hesitate to follow when Jinx grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, laughing all the way.

=

The night air was cool as they ascended one of the towering rooftops in Zaun. Jinx had always been quick on her feet, and Y/N had gotten used to keeping up with her over time, though she still had a habit of moving just a little too fast. She leaped from ledge to ledge effortlessly, her laugh echoing in the metal maze of the undercity, and Y/N had no choice but to follow.

By the time they reached the top, Jinx spread her arms out dramatically, spinning on her heel. “Ta-da! Best view in the whole damn city.”

Y/N caught his breath, glancing over the sprawling industrial beauty of Zaun. The neon lights flickered in the distance, reflecting off the polluted rivers below, the city alive and restless. He exhaled slowly. “You weren’t kidding.”

Jinx plopped down onto the rooftop edge, letting her legs dangle freely. She patted the space next to her, and Y/N joined her, stretching his arms behind him.

“So,” she started, kicking her feet idly, “you like the clothes or what? ‘Cause I got, like, a lot more where that came from.”

Y/N chuckled. “Yeah, I like ‘em. You didn’t have to do all that, though.”

Jinx scoffed, waving him off. “Pfft, course I did. You earned those scars. They tell a story, y’know? And stories should be shown off, not hidden away.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, running a hand absentmindedly over the faded lines on his chest. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about them—what they meant to him, how people saw them, how he saw them. And now here was Jinx, treating them like some kind of badge of honor.

“…Thanks, Jinx,” he said softly.

Jinx glanced at him, her usual wild grin shifting into something softer, more sincere. “Anytime, dumbass.”

For a while, they just sat there, looking over the city, the distant hum of machinery filling the silence. Then, as if unable to sit still for too long, Jinx shot up suddenly. “Okay, okay, enough sentimental crap. You ready to really show off?”

Y/N gave her a wary look. “What do you mean?”

Jinx smirked, pulling out a small, round device from her belt—one that was already blinking ominously.

“…Jinx,” Y/N said cautiously.

“Relax, relax! It’s just a little show for the city! A little boom here, a little bang there—”

“Jinx.”

“—and BAM! Spotlight’s on you, my dude!”

Before Y/N could protest, she tossed the device high into the air. A second later, a burst of neon blue light exploded in the sky like fireworks, sparks raining down harmlessly but brilliantly, illuminating the rooftop. Jinx whooped, spinning around, her wild laughter echoing through the night.

Y/N sighed, shaking his head with a grin. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

Jinx threw an arm over his shoulders, still laughing. “Eh, what else is new? Now c’mon, let’s strike some badass poses before the enforcers show up!”

And as ridiculous as it was, standing there in the glow of Jinx’s impromptu light show, Y/N had never felt prouder to be seen.