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glassrowboat · 16 hours ago

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Letters For You

Valentine’s Day letters from Anaxa, Aventurine, Gallagher, Jing Yuan, Phainon, Ratio, Reca, Sampo, Sunday

Wrote these for my online friends, so I hope you all have a lovely Valentine’s. Love you all, xoxo

Anaxa

My fellow scholar,

I won't lie and pretend as if I wouldn't rather be spending my time doing something actually worthwhile like studying, but whenever I finally bring myself to put pen to paper in my hectic schedule I find myself unable to use my quill for its intended purpose. I bought it for note taking and truly wished to use it for that purpose, only for me to find myself unable to focus on the words before me as I am stuck thinking of you.

You see, these were originally meant to be notes, so excuse the scribbling at the top. It's all mindless drivel and half-baked theories I'm certain you're already planning to jump at. Your curious mind never rests, just like mine. Which is why I'm so loath to admit that even us scholars need a break.

With that in mind, I ask that you find me at our usual spot to enjoy the current festivities. I'm sure once we're done, it will leave us both refreshed and ready to return to work.

In best regards,

Anaxagoras

Aventurine

Dearest friend,

I already know what you're going to say about the gifts I have left for you. “It's too much or you should save your money on something else, Aven.” To the point I can almost hear the words ringing in my ear in that scolding tone of yours. It's just as bad as the higher ups scolding me for breaking the cornerstone and yet I can't help but want to spoil you.

But I'll be nice. Just this once.

Instead of dinner at another fancy restaurant you'll roll your eyes at, let's just get takeout from your favorite place and we can play dress up with all the clothes I got us. And yes some are for me, too. I'm sure if you dig around a bit you'll find a particular lacy item you and I can both agree has its merits.

Until tonight,

Aventurine

P.S. No overtime. I promise.

Gallagher

Babe,

I'm sure you've already figured out the bag of candy is for you. I even wrapped it up with a neat bow and everything for ya, so I hope you like it. If you want, we can even try making a drink out of a few of them like we did with the cotton candy vodka. Remember that? It was interesting, that's for sure.

We can even have what's left after dinner tonight. I'm cooking. Just for you, too. I was thinking of Clockie Pizza with all those toppings you like, and we could have it at the lounge? I'm sure Dreamjolt Hostelry will have open seats even on Valentine’s Day, knowing how dead the place usually is. I'll even dress up if you want me to. Though it might just be best to put myself in your or Sioban care to choose an outfit. Either way, I'm trusting you here, so don't let me down.

Your man,

Gallagher

Jing Yuan

My darling,

It's a beautiful day out, don't you think? The sky is clear and bright blue, the wind is just right, and the sun as artificial as it might be is perfect for dozing under its shining rays. I even found a record to play a song I remember from days long past. The only thing missing on this perfect day is you. And my work to be done, too.

I take it you're wrapped in endless stacks of paperwork just as I am, aren't you? Even after all the time, they managed to keep you this week. I'm merely lucky I'll have you all to myself once the day ends. The weekend will be ours to enjoy the garden, eat good food, play with our adorable little lion, and each other.

While we may not get Valentine’s Day together between your work and mine, I am happy to make sure we still get to enjoy being together. Besides, choosing only one day to love you when I would rather do so every day for every year you're willing to share with me is far more appealing than showing you appreciation only on special occasions.

Yours,

Jing Yuan

Phainon

My favorite shopkeeper,

Time really does flash by in an instant, huh? It feels like only yesterday that I came to The Holy City with the weight of the prophecy, both bearing a heavy weight on and lifting my shoulders all at once. Back then, I was ready to face the world as a Chrysos Heir alongside the others of golden blood without daring to think anything could stop me. I was going to be the one who takes Nikador's Coreflame, and I'll be the demigod of Strife. It will be a title I wear with honor.

And that is still my intention, mind you, but I've found something else that fills me with just as much conviction as being a hero to the masses. Do I even have to say what it is? It's you.

Ever since we first ran into each other at your shop and you were giving me a side eye (yes, I saw that) at all the questions I was asking about your collection of antiques I knew I would be willing to take a moment to step away from the duty I have sworn to uphold to simply be with you.

So I guess what I'm asking is: will you be my valentine?

Your hero,

Phainon

Ratio

My dear,

Today has already been full of one headache after the next from students deeming fit to load my desk with gifts to dealing with Aventurine texting me about how many roses is “too much.” At this point, all I want to do is go home and fall into your embrace.

Still, I have tests to grade. And from what I've seen of them, it's looking like some of them have finally learned how to pick up a thing or two after I started to use the method you suggested last time. As loath as I am to admit, I never would have thought to have my student role play as great mathematicians from the past to keep them engaged. It worked.

You truly astound me. Always finding new ways to show that creative thinking plays a part in being knowledgeable as well. You put the term genius to shame, my dear.

Sincerely,

Veritas Ratio

Reca

My love interest,

I have met countless actresses and actors who have been praised as if they were Aeons themselves. Looks, skills, the way the camera is naturally drawn to them, why you could name it all! Yet they all pale in comparison to you, my snookums.

No shot is truly complete without your radiance, without your smile, or without just the thought of you lingering in the back of my mind and changing how I see each scene laid out before me. You have changed how I view romance, entirely flipping the genre on its head for me to make something entirely new and unique. You inspired me in a way I never would have thought possible despite all the stories of star-crossed lovers I know. You have simply made me, for lack of a better word, more.

The only thing I could possibly regret about you is not meeting you sooner.

So allow me to make up for all the time we have had apart, my honey bee, by coming to a play with me as my valentine.

Your charming director,

Reca

P.S. I have entrusted the Assistant Director to be in your care today while I am away. She shall take care of you in my stead while I am away, my valentine.

Sampo

Boss,

It's me, your good old buddy, your pal, your bestest guy, Sampo! Now, now, before you go and throw this letter in the trash or worse yet, set my poor heartfelt words on fire, hear me out. I only have the purest intentions for you today, and that is on my honest word as a businessman.

It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and I can't have such a profitable holiday be soured for my favorite customer. That would just hurt my coin purse. So to ensure that doesn't come to pass, I took it upon myself to give you a gift as a show of gratitude for all you've done for me these past few years.

I'm sure you've noticed them by now.

Now, I hope you like the roses I left for you. They have a bit of an extra boom to them if you know what I mean. Just not the bomb kind. Though you do always manage to blow my heart away so who knows, maybe it is.

Your number one guy,

Sampo

P.S. Okay you can light the letter on fire now just know that if you do I'll be left with nothing to do but drink at the bar until I'm crying my eyes out all by my lonesome. Orrrrr…you could join me. I would never complain about getting some time in your delightful company.

Sunday

My dove,

This is my first Valentine’s Day away from Penacony, let alone on the Astral Express with a lover I can call my own.

I find myself still adjusting to the sudden change. There's no one watching my every move and expecting utter perfection from me now but me. I still find myself checking my clothes, assuring my feathers are neat, and shining my halo to the point that it shines in the light of the stars surrounding us. They remind me of just how vast this galaxy truly is. How my past choices were a flicker of a flame to everyone else, but to me, it was my last ditch effort at saving a dying light.

Everything is different now.

I find myself mourning.

Only for you to walk in the room and wash each thought away like the oncoming tide to a cluttered shore just with your gaze and a twitch of your lips. It's like I'm hit with a revelation again: that things do in fact get better.

So please, keep smiling as you always do, my valentine.

All the best,

Sunday

#x reader #hsr x reader #anaxa #aventurine #Gallagher #jing yuan #phainon #ratio #veritas ratio #reca #sampo #sunday #gn reader #dividers by enchanthing-a

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kazumiyas · 2 days ago

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sweet — jing yuan

PAIRING: jing yuan x female reader

CONTENT: medieval au, marriage of convenience, fluff with 0.1 second of self doubt related angst, no swearing or anything so no real warnings i think :)

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

NOTE: requested by @prinzessinns for my event!

"princess."

you lay down your embroidery with a sigh, looking up at your husband — jing yuan — with a perfectly practised smile. "my lord."

he waves a hand at you dismissively, lips curving up into a lazy grin. "no need to be so formal — actually, i have something to ask of you."

"do continue." this is an arranged marriage; a union between two nations for the good of both. you — and jing yuan, too, you realise — are nothing but sacrificial lambs for this cause. and yet — his smile, the way he moves, it should not cause you to feel like this. the butterflies that come to life in your stomach every time you see him are just a mistake.

"you are overworking yourself," he says gently. how unexpected. then, catching you off-guard: come out to the gardens with me."

but wait — he shouldn't even be here, he should be out in the courtyard training with his soldiers or teaching his juniors right now. you open your mouth to protest, but he presses a finger on your lips with a barely-concealed smile. "not a word."

you stare at him expectantly, and he relents, stepping back. "we have both been working so much lately. surely a stroll outside shall not cause any issues?"

before you can respond, there's a firm knock on your door.

"yes?" you call out.

they're guards, specifically your husband's guards, and they're looking for him. your gaze meets his, and mischief dances across his features as he raises a brow. it's up to you, so what'll you do?

"he's not here!"

the footsteps recede, and he approaches again. "come, my lady, while we still have time."

the sun is already sinking into the clouds, bathing the grounds in a golden-orange light. he cocks his head, waiting for an answer, and you get up. why not?

"detour to the kitchen?" he suggests as the two of you sneak out of your room. you don't reply, but you follow him anyways, standing discreetly in a corner as he riffles through the well-stocked cupboards while the cooks watch on in disbelief. once he's satisfied with what he's scooped up in his arms, he nods at you to leave — only to be met by the guards, once again. a laugh bubbles out of him; he shifts the bag of food to one hand and grabs yours with the other, pulling you along as he begins to run.

you find yourselves hiding in the stables, sitting on hay bales in most undignified a manner; your husband is digging into a sandwich that looks quite literally perfect. you get rather carried away staring at him, and he, in turn, notices your eyes on him almost immediately.

jing yuan looks up, mouth full. "wan' some?"

taken aback, you blink at him owlishly, and he barely has time to swallow his food before he begins to laugh. "it's fine. here, we're not of any status, so please don't worry about any formalities."

you smile, tight-lipped. is this a test? but he's serious, and princess or not, who are you to refuse a perfectly good sandwich?

by and by, you find yourself slipping into commoners' attire that jing yuan has procured through dubious means.

"are you done yet?" he asks; his back is turned to give you privacy.

"yes, i'm sorry."

"take your time, it's fine."

you walk up to him. "still, i do apologise."

he seems surprised. "whatever for?"

"i just… i'm nothing like you. i'm sorry you aren't getting to do this with someone you really love, instead of the princess you married only to better the bonds between our countries."

"oh," he says, but he does not continue the conversation as he takes your hand and leads you into town.

it's well into the evening now, moonlight streaming down upon the two of you. even in his old, drab outfit, jing yuan seems to glow in its light. but that's not unexpected — he is beautiful. instead, what's more surprising is that no one recognises the two of you. or almost no one. (when you're almost at the end of your walk through the town, a little boy looks up at the two of you, eyes widened. he seems to have realised who you are, but before you can do or say anything, jing yuan presses a few coins into his hand with a sly grin and pulls you away with him.)

"you know," he begins. the two of you are in a secluded area by the town; no one else is around to hear him speak. "what you said before… that isn't true."

"what's not true?"

"the thing you said, about me deserving someone else instead of you. i don't agree with it."

"o-oh. and why not?"

"there's no delicate way to say this." he flushes a little, clears his throat. "i don't want to be with anyone else, regardless of what i deserve. the only one i love is you."

"oh."

"i'm sorry," he adds.

"what? why?" (déjà vu, much?)

"for springing this upon you so suddenly, of course."

"we're going about this wrong," you declare suddenly, fueled by the adrenaline of such a confession. "if we both love each other, we should stop apologising."

"if we both— what?"

the rush has left your system now, and you only offer him a shy smile in return. the sight makes him weak at the knees.

"what do you propose we do about it, then?"

you don't say anything, but the answer is clear.

"may i kiss you, my lady?" his voice is soft, and his touch is softer. you've never nodded this hard or this fast in your life.

when he cradles your face in his hands, you seem sosmall in comparison to him. fragile, like a flower or a sculpture made of glass. and his parents always taught him to appreciate everything he was given, so of course he takes his time, too. and even though fireworks are erupting through his nerves and hordes of butterflies spontaneously come to life in his stomach, when he kisses you, he's gentle and oh so sweet.

800 follower event

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alphajocklover · 3 days ago

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So I’m at my best friend’s house and something weird happened. He just told me how much he knew I love muscular guys with strong facial hair and said he had a really early birthday gift. He took a selfie then took a picture of me and now, I feel all weird and foggy in my head. I think I can see his big fat…dick through his briefs. I rubbed my face and, do I have mutton chops growing in? I just, please help me I’m not sure what’s going on, I don’t think I like it

First off, I’d like to wish you a happy early birthday! Turning 22 isn’t the most exciting thing ever, certainly not as fun as turning 21, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! And before you correct me and say that it's not your actual birthday yet, or that’s you’re not turning 22, let me just say this: give it a moment.

You feel that tingling across your body? The strange sensation that’s like a sunburn that somehow underneath got underneath your skin, or static electricity dancing across your muscles. That’s the app your friend downloaded doing its job. I’ve talked before about InstaJock, the app that turns people who use it into a jock, and how there seem to be people making knockoffs of it as well, but as the app has grown in popularity, some of the knockoffs have gained traction too. I’d even venture to call a few of them legitimate competitors. Most have done so by finding a gimmick and carving themselves out a place in the digital tf world. Fratbook, for example, is an app that works a lot like this InstaJock, except every more of a frat boy lean. SnapBack does internet fuckboys, Redsky does conservative men, etcetera. There are even some more far out ones, like Polygraph, which is kind of like Twitter (or X or whatever) except everything you post becomes true. But I’m getting way off track, we should get back to you.

I can’t be entirely sure what app your friend used on you, but I doubt the specifics matter anymore. By this point the burning in your muscles and the itch of hair growing across your face and body is unbearable, but it doesn’t remotely compare to the dull warmth that's spread through your head. You said that you didn’t think you liked the change at first, but right now it’s hard to think at all, especially with your friend's fat dick swinging in your face. You weren’t sure when he took out his cock, or when you got on your knees, but as the heat in your muscles calmed to a dull throb, and your new thick black hair has settled across your body, you find yourself just going with the flow. Why wouldn’t you bro? Everything just feels so fucking good!

Now I have good news, better news, and even better news! The good news is that whatever your friend has done is probably temporary. It was a gift after all, and he also transformed himself, so you’re probably both going to just enjoy being hairy hunks for a while. The better news is that you probably have a boyfriend now, if that's what you want. Your friend probably knew you would hook up, and this might have been your way of seeing if you’re also into him, while living out his fantasy. The better news is that, if you want, it doesn’t have to be temporary. Once you’ve turned back to normal, and you and your ‘best friend’ have had a little talk, reach out. If you guys want to spend more time in your dumb, beefy, hair forms, I might be able to help. ---------- Hey guys! So, I know most people skip over the little out of character updates I sometimes put at the bottom of my stories, but I'm hoping you guys take a second to look at this one because I have a bit of an announcement. I realized yesterday that on February 17th, in just five days, this blog will be a year old! I know I'm only just getting back into doing this, but I'm so proud that I've actually stuck with this for a full year! So I want to celebrate! So, I'm going to be temporarily reopening my ask for...

An Alphaversary QNA!

What makes this QNA special is that you won't just be asking me questions. You can ask a question to me, my character, or any of the characters I've written about in any of my stories! The answers will probably be shorter than my usual work, but will give you guys the chance to ask about anything thats confused you, dig deeper into the world building, or even check up on a character or concept that you're curious about. This will go until February 24th, the day I posted my first original story! Don't be afraid to ask away! Thanks for coming on this journey with me you guys! I can't wait for another badass year!

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #instajock tf #1 year Alphaversary!

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honeyryewhiskey · 13 hours ago

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marked by cupid • happy valentine’s day !

— smut warning ! fingering, (gentle) choking, dean likes to watch, pet names, needy cupid, eager to please dean, cupid's inexperienced 18+ ! — j's note ! wrote this at 4am straight out of a fever dream (literally bc i have the flu) anyways if it sucks i'm sorry 2.6k words

You rise onto your tiptoes, hips pressing against the sink’s edge as you angle closer to the mirror, steadying the sleek golden tube between your fingers.

It’s a careful craft, applying red lipstick. One that demands patience. One wrong move, and fixing it is near impossible. No matter how much you wipe, a pink stain always lingers, a faint reminder. At least for a little while.

Your hand moves with careful precision, the smooth crimson sweeping over the natural flush of your lips like ink on parchment. The pigment is rich, deliberate, leaving behind a bold statement with every stroke. You press your lips together, perfecting the edges, when a shift in the mirror catches your eye.

Dean stands behind you, his broad shoulders filling the small frame, arms crossed as he watches with a bemused arch of his brow. The curiosity in his gaze is subtle, but it lingers, following the slow, practiced motions of your hand.

A smile creeps up on your ruby red lips, turning just enough to meet his eyes in the reflection. With a playful wave of the little golden tube, you toss over your shoulder, “Want some?” The coy smile you wear is as daring as the color itself.

“What? No.” He waves you off, flopping onto the edge of his bed with a huff, arms bracing against the mattress. “I just like to watch.”

“Mhm,” you hum, amusement curling in your tone as you twist the lipstick back into its tube and abandon it in the sink. You glance at him through the mirror, mischief sparking in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Dean exhales sharply, already suspicious. “Yes, I’m sure—”

“Are you really, really sure?” You turn, stepping toward him slowly, deliberately, hands tucked behind your back like you’re hiding something.

His gaze narrows. “Lovebird, why are you looking at me like that?”

The distance between you disappears in measured steps until you’re standing between his legs. His breath stills as your fingers slide up, cradling his jaw in soft, steady hands. Before he can react, you lean down, pressing a firm, quick kiss to his cheek.

Dean jerks back, his hand flying to his face as you giggle, already knowing what you left behind. His fingers swipe over the spot, and when they come away smudged with red, he groans.

“Damn it, Cupid,” he grumbles, shooting you a halfhearted glare.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You just—” He gestures vaguely, rubbing at his cheek, only managing to smear the stain further. “You marked me.”

The words make you pause, something warm and electric settling in your chest. Your smile softens, satisfaction washing over you in slow, lazy waves. Marking Dean.

Much can be said about a cupid’s curiosity—about yours in particular. Once a thought crosses your mind, it doesn’t simply pass through. It lingers, settles into the empty spaces, curling into the corners of your mind like an itch you can’t ignore.

“Dean?” Your voice is soft, almost innocent, but the weight of your intention is anything but. Your hands find his shoulders, grounding yourself as you slip into his lap, knees bracketing his hips.

He stiffens beneath you, muscles coiling tight. It’s not that you haven’t been in his lap before—you have, a few times. But always in a shared seat sort of way.

Not like this, and certainly not while you’re wearing a little pink dress.

Dean swallows, trying to maintain that stoic expression as his hands instinctively find your waist, broad and warm against your sides. But it doesn’t take long for them to move, sliding down to your hips, tugging at the hem of your dress like he can somehow will it to cover more of you. Like that extra inch of fabric might save him from the way his pulse is already kicking up.

“Mhm?” he hums, though there’s a slight strain in his brow, a telltale sign that he’s working hard—really hard—to keep himself in check.

You tilt your head, letting your fingers trace the curve of his shoulder as you lean in just a little closer. Close enough to see his pupils dilate, black invading the green and claiming more space.

“Can I mark you again?”

It’s a simple question. Sweet. Playful.

And absolutely, utterly unfair.

Dean’s grip on your hips tightens, fingers flexing against the thin fabric of your dress as he exhales a rough, breathy laugh. His eyes flicker across your face, scanning, searching, like he’s trying to figure out exactly what’s going on in that pretty, mischief-stirred head of yours. Curiosity gleams in your gaze, tangled with something softer, something just a little bit wicked.

Finally, he nods.

The dimple in his cheek deepens as he grins, and you don’t waste a second. Your fingers curl behind his neck, nails scratching lightly at the short hairs there as you lean in.

The first kiss is sweet, a playful press of your lips against the apple of his cheek. Then another. And another. Slow, deliberate, painting him in unmistakable red, each kiss a little more possessive than the last.

You trail lower, following the sharp line of his jaw, leaving smudged stains in your wake as you explore uncharted territory. The warmth of his skin meets the cool pigment of your lipstick, and something about the contrast sends a thrill down your spine.

When your lips press into the soft divot beneath the corner of his jaw, right where his pulse thrums beneath his skin, a quiet sound escapes him—a low, involuntary groan, barely audible but entirely unrestrained.

He stiffens beneath you, breath catching, fingers digging into your hips like he’s caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

And oh, you want to make him do that again.

The sound—deep, unguarded—lingers in the space between you, igniting something electric in your veins. Your lips tingle, the ghost of his skin still warm against them, and you wonder just how many more of those delicious little sounds you can pull from him if you keep going.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark now, heavy-lidded, the green swallowed up by something molten. There’s a hesitation there, a silent battle waging between logic and want.

He clears his throat, forcing out a rough chuckle, but it does little to mask the way his fingers still grip your hips like he’s holding himself back. “We should stop, right?”

Your lips—plump and smudged, a hazy reminder of every place they’ve been—pout slightly as you shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

It’s honest. Bare. No teasing lilt, no coy smile—just the simple truth, spoken like a confession.

And that confirmation is all Dean needed to hear.

His hands tighten on you, his restraint snapping like a frayed rope finally giving way. And this time, when he pulls you in, he isn’t holding back.

His lips crash against yours, claiming, devouring, a breath-stealing force of want and heat. One hand digs into your hip, fingers pressing into the curve like he’s anchoring himself, while the other slides up, calloused fingertips finding the sensitive space between your neck and jaw. He grips, not harshly but firmly, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, to pull you closer, like he needs you under his skin.

It’s a heated mess of smudged lipstick, reds blending together in a haze of desperation, staining his lips, his jaw—evidence of just how thoroughly you’ve marked him. Every brush of his mouth against yours sends another spark racing through you, pooling low in your belly, an ache that’s all too familiar when it comes to him.

But this time, there’s no layers of denial, no careful restraint.

Just the heat between you, growing, pulsing, an insistent throb against the thin stretch of your panties where he presses against you—solid, unyielding, and so damn tempting. The pressure is intoxicating, and before you can stop yourself, your hips move, rocking against him in a slow, desperate grind.

Dean groans into your mouth, the sound deep and ragged, vibrating through you like a struck chord. His grip on you tightens, nails biting into the fabric of your dress as his own restraint frays at the edges.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning with the instinctive need to chase that friction, to feel more of him. The heat is unbearable, twisting inside you like a coiled spring, making you move harder, more deliberately.

“Need more, Dean.” Your voice is a breathy whimper, your lips parted, glossed with smudged red as you look up at him through lidded eyes, pouty and desperate.

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he takes you in, gaze darkening at the sight of you—flushed, needy, rolling against him without a second thought. He exhales sharply, his resolve crumbling with each slow drag of your hips.

He dips his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the contrast of tenderness against the heat between you making your stomach flip. “I can take care of that for you, sweetheart.”

Then, in one smooth motion, his arms shift—one curling under your thighs, the other pressing firm against the small of your back. He lifts you with effortless strength, adjusting himself against the headboard as he settles you more securely on his lap, spreading his legs just enough to ground you in place.

“Lift your hips for me.”

It’s a gentle command, but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it, the quiet authority that makes you obey without question. His hands guide you, steady and sure, fingers pressing firm into your skin as you shift your weight onto your knees, lifting just enough to let him take control.

Dean’s thumbs hook into the fabric of your dress, dragging it up, slow and deliberate, until it pools at your waist, leaving you exposed beneath him. The cool air kisses your thighs, a stark contrast to the heat rolling off your body, to the warmth of his touch as his palms skim over your navel, tracing the dip of your waist before sliding lower.

His hands map new territory, smoothing down, down, to the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His fingers graze the tender flesh, a barely-there touch that sends a sharp shiver rippling through you. Your body tenses, a quiet, involuntary tremor that makes Dean pause, his hands going still.

His gaze flicks up to yours, something unreadable flickering behind those deep green eyes, his touch hesitant now, gentle in a way that makes your heart ache. “We can stop here, love. It’s okay.”

His voice is quiet, rough around the edges, but so damn sincere it nearly undoes you.

But stopping now? When you’re this close, when every nerve in your body is alive with the need for more?

“No—please, no.” The words spill out in a breathless sigh, desperation laced into every syllable.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself, silently pleading. You don’t want space, don’t want hesitation—you just want him.

He nods, his breath warm against your skin as he leans down, his lips grazing your temple, trailing soft, almost reverent kisses down to your cheek. The sensation of each kiss sends a shiver down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake as his fingers slip between your thighs, pressing gently into the space between them.

Your breath hitches, caught in your throat, as his touch moves lower, a slow, deliberate pressure against the fabric of your panties. The heat of his hand makes your body tremble, the delicate friction sending a surge of arousal through you, already soaking through the thin material.

The world narrows to the feel of him, his touch, his heat, everything else fading as his other hand wraps around the expanse of your neck. His grip is firm but not punishing, the hold just enough to tilt your head back, exposing you, leaving you vulnerable to him in the most intimate of ways.

Before you can think, his lips are on yours again, pulling you into a kiss that’s urgent, hungry, a perfect mix of passion and desperation. It’s all heat and yearning as his mouth claims yours, his fingers never ceasing their teasing, pressing against you with just the right amount of pressure, coaxing the response he wants from you as you moan into his open mouth.

He shoves your panties to the side, allowing space for his middle and index finger to plunge inside. His thumb presses into your clit, massaging and coaxing more sounds from your parted lips.

You sink deeper into his hand as he pumps in and out, reeling in the feeling and wanting more.

His lips leave yours, his lazy smirk back in place as the hand around your neck finds your hip again, “here,” he nods, eyes flickering over you, his satisfaction in watching you like this evident in the glow of his eyes. In the smile tugging at his lips.

“Move with me,” his eyes lock with yours as the hand on your hip guides you to rock against his hand.

Your hips follow his guide at first, but it’s too slow, too soft—your head drops, forehead against his shoulder as you grind your hips harder against his working hand. The wet sound of his knuckles coated in your arousal fills the room as his forearm flexes, his rhythm unrelenting.

The tension coiling in your stomach makes your breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his. “Dean—“ you gasp, and it almost sounds like a question. Like you’re unsure of how to chase this feeling.

“That’s it, lovebird,” he whispers, his hand wrapping around your neck again with the slightest squeeze, “let go for me.”

His grip on your neck is just enough to make your mind go numb for a second. His hand working waves of pleasure, pumping into your core and breaking into your release.

He can’t get enough of the sight—his eyes drinking up the way your body tightens and temples at his touch. Watching his fingers claim the space no other man has gone. Your slick heat, pooling around his fingers, just for him.

Your hips buck and twitch, riding the come down as you collapse into his chest.

Dean’s hand glides along your spine, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the aftermath. “You alright, little love?” His voice is softer now, a low rumble edged with something tender, something just for you.

You lift your head from where it had rested against his shoulder, the world still hazy around the edges as you blink up at him. Your cheeks are warm, flushed with pleasure, your breath still a little unsteady. But it’s the sight of him that nearly steals what’s left of it—Dean, utterly marked, his face a canvas of smudged red where your lips had claimed him. A streak across his jaw, a mark on his cheekbone, the ghost of your kisses staining the very curve of his mouth.

Your stomach flutters at the sight, at the proof of what you’ve done to him. A slow, sweet smile spreads across your lips, teasing and triumphant. “We should do that more often.”

Dean huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around your waist. His lips curl into that cocky, dimpled smirk that always makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Before you can tease him back, he moves, rolling you onto your back with effortless ease. A surprised giggle bursts from your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by the warmth of his mouth pressing light, playful kisses along your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he hums against your pulse.

“I think we just might,” he whispers, his promise sealed in the way his lips linger against your skin.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @dulcescorderitas @snowluvvie @jadenreallycool @soldiersgirl @abox-of-rocks

#dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x cupid!reader #dean winchester valentines day

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thefirstlioveyou · 3 days ago

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Mike's Core Fear - No, it isn't not being needed/loved, and no, he doesn't actually need El to need him

Disclaimer: this is technically a discussion on whether mike's Enneagram is type 6 or 2, but this is can still read as a general analysis on mike's actual driving fear. i've been stumped on which he is because of his whole thing with wanting to be needed by el, but still somehow matching entirely as a type 6. i realized while how it may seem his fear is not being needed... it's not the core fear driving mike's actions. also, i'm still learning about the enneagram. bare with me if i mess up or misunderstand something lol. and please correct me

Mike isn't a Type Two just because he wants to be needed by El. He just doesn't relate to any of the motivations of a Two. He isn't wanting or expecting appreciation for his efforts. He doesn't feel under appreciated. Even though he technically is, that isn't relevant to him here. He doesn't care about that. It's the exact opposite. Mike doesn't feel deserving. He feels like he does nothing. He feels inferior to El.

If he is not a Two, this means at his core, Mike's deepest fear isn't not being loved/needed like we've been thinking. Don't get me wrong, it is one of his wants (I mean.. Who doesn't want to be needed and loved?). It's something he canonically cares about... It's just not for the reason we've been thinking. It's not what he desires the most. It's not what he truly fears.

I think his core fear is something along the lines of abandonment/rejection and being without support/guidance, making him a Type Six.

i can't really articulate my explanation with all the terminology since i'm still learning more and more about enneagram typing. but I will try to make sense in my own way lol.

here are some quick things that show me mike's afraid of abandonment and to be without support/guidance:

- he is constantly losing will and el throughout the show in different ways, affecting him greatly every time. loss is already a consistent theme in his story.

- mike hides the real reason for his bruise from el, avoiding potential rejection or embarrassment. he doesn't want el to see him the way others do and essentially drive her away.

- before meeting will, he claims to have felt so scared and alone because he didn't have any friends and knew no one. fear went away once he did finally meet someone. not a lot of kids express feeling scared and alone with tears on the first day of school. scared, sure!! who isn't? but scared and alone? now that's another thing, especially just for the first day.

- one of his fears is revealed in dustin's book. he is scared of letting down the ones he loves. what happens when you let someone down? you're at risk of losing that person's respect, love, support, etc.

- will's "what if they don't like the truth?" resonates with mike. this is similar to the point above. mike is afraid to el the truth because he doesn't want to disappoint and let her down - he's at risk of losing her entirely.

- when mike tries to reach el in s2 on halloween through the walkie talkie, he talks about having a bad day and wishing she was there. he also reaches out again to her after having a bad dinner with his parents and being forced to donate his toys as a punishment. he doesn't specify that to her, but it becomes clear why he's trying to communicate to her. he's trying to cope with events in his own life.

- during mike's monologue, he admits he doesn't know how to live without el. hmmm.

that all being said... as you can probably tell, there's a specific pattern when it comes to el lol. i think it's safe to say:

mike doesn't need el to need him - he needs her.

why? well it makes perfect sense. el is his shield. she has protected him from the main thing that brought him trouble his whole life - his bullies (and the supernatural)

But, she is also the superhero he feels inferior to, the superhero he wishes he could be.. but instead is lois lane (actually, he feels even less than her).

season 1, el protects mike and saves him in multiple occasions from bullies. he is saved from getting ass beat by troy. he is saved from literal death. she saves the whole group as a whole in multiple occasions from the supernatural and government.

mike calls her a weapon. this is important because the only thing mike's seen her use her powers as defense at that point was to defend him from his bullies and when him and lucas were fighting. interesting huh?

Before we see her save him from bullies, we are introduced to the group's experience with bullying. we get a scene where mike is tripped and ends up with a scab on his chin, which he hides from her until she manages to get the truth out of him. She tells him she understands.

ALL THIS is why he keeps referring back to her powers and putting her on a pedestal. THIS is why he sees himself as lois lane and her as superman. Without her, he has no actual defense or "weapon." Without her, he would've died because of his bullies. He is projecting what he wishes he could be on her.

"You can fly." no?? she can make you fly, mike

This is one of the reasons why the cliff scene is SO important. Mike and Dustin are confronted with their bullies who are looking for revenge. The bullies threaten Mike. If he doesn't jump off the cliff, they will cut off Dustin's baby teeth. Mike is defenseless. He doesn't have powers. He can't fight someone who has a knife. His aim is shit enough. He can't do anything. He has to jump and throw away his life, ultimately letting the bullies win. With true bravery, he steps off the cliff for his friend. Gone. Oh wait. He's saved by a supernatural force. He doesn't actually fall to death - He flies his way back to the surface instead! Winning against the bullies... The bullies running away scared... Except... that was all of El's doings. Not his. She's the one who saved him and Dustin. Not him. She's the one who gets the praise, not him. Why would he? Over someone like that? Mike gets it. He's just as impressed.

Similar thing happens in the sauna test. While Mike is the only one with the courage to stop Billy from choking El, it still isn't enough. He once again has to be saved by her.

Notice how he doesn't even try to defend himself as Troy goes for him. He's still like he is in the sauna when Billy has him trapped.

He doesn't fight back. He may start the fight... But he never can finish it. It's either physically impossible or because of discouragement. But, that doesn't stop Mike from for some reason trying again. Still no good.

And even more to think about: He goes about how he thinks El doesn't need him anymore. But.. when has she even suggested to him that she needs him? Like, actually? He's literally just assuming that.

S1, before the trauma of losing her, he was genuinely just trying to help her because she actually did need help. S2, she's not even there. He's literally desperately trying to reach out to her without even hearing anything back from her. He's the one that needs her, not the other way around. S3, she literally basically says it to his face she doesn't need him. S4, el's actions to mike are closed off. she lied the entire time. it's not like she was begging for his help and for him the whole time?

We only ever see HER saving and protecting Mike, not the other way around. There is nothing for Mike to think she needs him. Therefore... This whole thing is just another case of mike projecting once again. Classic Michael! Also very much a Six thing - Projection of fears and insecurities.

Now that we got the whole Mike and El thing out of the way..

If he is a Two, and if he fears not being needed the most, and to be needed is *the* desire, where does the forced conformity part of his storyline even come from then?

Seeing him as a Six makes the forced conformity bit align far better than if he really is a Two.

Season 2. He is immediately confused by Lucas and Dustin's interest in Max. He doesn't understand their crushes the whole season and ends up pissed as hell by it. He refuses to let her in the Party and rejects her (something a type two would not do). In his eyes, she is ruining the structure of the group. Lucas and Dustin spend more time with her during Halloween and ruins his day, later complaining about it to El briefly on the walkie talkie.

He just can't understand their obsession with this girl. He is behind all of them, he feels.. at least based on the least possibly obvious blocking /s.

He's alone on this. They all agree on this except him. The structure of the group is falling apart due to crushes and girls when he obviously doesn't want them to go to the direction.

But by the end of the season, while sitting alone at the snowball as the rest of his friends dance with someone, this is where he finally decides to give in and join the rest in growing up and focus on girls. Mike doesn't want to be behind and alone, but he can't stop this change. They have to grow up. He chooses to stick to society's rules because that's the most secure way through. That's where his friends are, his source of support and guidance, so that's where he'll be.

He needs El because he needs the strength and protection she gives that he believes he doesn't have himself, which he must learn to conquer. He does not want to be left behind and therefore conforms to fit in with his friends, pushing aside all the things he really actually wants. Despite his overwhelming insecurities, he wants to be the paladin he is in DnD. He wants to lead a structured group to victory. He wants to lead his own life instead of following societal expectations, even if he's alone on it (which he won't be)

Mike is stuck with lots of fears and insecurities and is afraid of being without support or guidance. "I don't know how to live without you" tells you exactly what Mike needs to learn - How to live without someone like El who shields him. He must become a hero himself and must believe it is possible, regardless of what his little negative head tells him. He is meant to be Superman.

Mike is a six. End of the post.

(specifically 6w7 but not the argument here lol)

#pls i had a whole revelation writing this #mike kinda doesn't actually care about being needed that way #its something more than that #i hope i made sense!!!#the whole scared and alone thing was what initially caught my attention #mike i fucking love youuuu #mike wheeler #elmike #byler #< target audience #anti mileven #just to be clear lol

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thedovesaredying · 3 days ago

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Sweet Temptations | Fae!Krueger x F!Witch Reader

Krueger has noticed someone new living in the cottage belonging to the old witch that used to live at the edge of the village. He's curious about the sweet little witch who has moved in and wants to keep her all to himself. Unforunately, there's a small, hairless demon getting in his way.

A/N: I'm working on other stuff, but I wanted to make something purely for my own enjoyment. Techincally it's an OC, but it's written in second person so it can be read as a Reader fic! Tagging @ghouljams because I've already rambled about my child to them 0w0 Also based on their

Warnings: None.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Krueger has walked the same path every day for decades. He lingers just on the edge of the village, not wanting to get too close to the other more territorial fae, but also not wanting to be too far from human civilisation. The woods are thick, but small trails weave their way through it and by now Krueger knows each path by heart. He used to take this path to meet with the strange witch that lived in a little cottage at the very edge of town, trading his finds for some sweet, honeyed milk.

But the old woman has been gone for a while, leaving her ancient cottage to become overgrown with vines and the once natural garden to be choked with weeds and bordered by chest high grass. It’s a sorry state to be sure, wood slowly rotting and stone covered in thick layers of mold. Even the wards designed to keep out even the strongest of fair folk have started to wane and wither without the old woman’s religious maintenance of them.

It’s unfortunate, really, as most younger witches are a little too nervous when it comes to making deals with the fae. He hasn’t had a nice, warm mug of his favourite beverage in years and he’s had no one to trade the pretty items he’s collected with. Sure, Nikto sometimes tolerates him long enough to swap some gold or a shiny gem or two, but it’s not the same as dealing with a witch or mortal man. Besides, the grumpy bastard has been too distracted by his little human pet to be bothered dealing with Krueger recently.

He still checks the little house as he walks past in the morning, just to be sure the witch hasn’t magically arisen from the grave and returned to her usual place settled in the conservatory. No doubt that’s why he’s so quick to notice something is very different about the witch’s house. The old wards are still humming away, albeit softer and softer with each passing day, but something else clouds the invisible border around the property.

It’s dark and cloying, enough to choke a lesser fae on the spot and likely to deter even some of the stronger among them. The air lingers with a thick scent of brimstone and ash, leaving a dry, dusty taste in his mouth the closer he gets. His eyes almost water with the burn of it, and he barely resists the urge to wipe at his face, as if it’s been covered with a layer of soot. His hood gives him little protection from it, not when the cause is something magic rather than physical.

It irritates him that something or someone has decided to take over the area and somehow has managed to worm its way past the old witch’s wards to claim territory that very clearly does not belong to it. It isn’t exactly his problem anymore, but well, fae are possessive and Krueger is no different.

The witch’s wards are soft and masterfully refined, flowing between his clawed fingers like strands of silk. A warm embrace of foreign magic that tingles against his skin and draws him slowly deeper, letting him sink into it like hot custard. But it’s stopped abruptly by a new layer of wards – if they can even be considered wards with how different they are to human magic – they burn, hotter than even Nikto’s fire, forcing him to retract his hand before it can be scalded.

The sharp barrier seems to ripple for a moment in response to his touch, sharp and dangerous as it twitches and writhes angrily. He’s distracted from the magic, however, when he spots the tall grass before him start to part, allowing a small creature to pass through. The animal squints at him momentarily, before leaping from the ground and onto the thick stone wall separating the backyard from the woods.

It would be a stretch to call the creature a cat, what with the way it lacks even a single strand of fur. It’s an ugly thing, with pink, wrinkly skin and eyes that are more like orbs of obsidian than anything a mortal animal would possess. They’re deep, like staring into the very abyss itself, and just as ominous in the way they silently rove over his form, scrutinising. It seems unimpressed with whatever it finds, eyelids drooping and a single lip curling as if disgusted.

“What do you want, creature?” admittedly, Krueger is startled by the deep voice that comes from the cat. Unbothered, it continues, slowly as though speaking to a child “this territory has already been claimed.”

A demon. Of course it has to be a damn demon.

It will be difficult to deal with such a bothersome creature. Reaching an agreement with his fellow fae can be trouble enough, but a demon? Unbeholden to the need to at least tell the truth? Truly, perhaps the most irritating creature one can have the misfortune of having to deal with.

“Why are you here, Dämon?” he growls, offering a disgusted scowl of his own. It’s hidden by his hood, but no doubt can be heard easily enough in his tone.

The demon simply sits itself on the wall, leisurely raising a paw to lick. After a moment of lazy grooming, it finally says, “I do believe I asked first, it’s rather rude to ignore someone’s question.”

“Just passing through,” which is true enough considering he had no plans of actually approaching the cottage until his spine prickled with discomfort, warning him of a nearby danger. “The owner and I have an arrangement,” he gestures at the somewhat crumbling house.

Rolling its eyes as though already bored out of its mind the cat stands again, taking a moment to stretch out its back, “well, I suggest you mind your own business, fae. The new owner has no interest in dealing with those of your kind.” The demon opens its mouth to say something further, but the door leading to the conservatory suddenly slides open.

“Fluff? You out here?” Your voice, soft as it may be, is easily carried over to them on the breeze. You scan the backyard, eyes easily finding Krueger’s large form and the smaller cat currently staring him down. You huff, hiking up the skirt of your dress and making the lengthy walk from the house and down the winding path to the back gate.

Kreuger can’t help staring. You look like such a sweet thing, body soft enough for him to sink his teeth into and never let go. Your hair is scattered all over the place from the wind, but you pay it no mind, offering a beaming smile to the foul little demon now blinking at you in surprise. “What are you doing out here silly kitty? Are you making new friends?” you coo, scooping the creature up into your arms as though it couldn’t kill you on the spot.

The demon’s face screws up and it hisses at Krueger from your arms, before nuzzling at the soft fabric of your dress, grumbling all the while. “Sorry,” you say, wincing slightly at Kreuger, “he doesn’t really like strangers.” As if that’s a good explanation for why you're cuddling an ugly ass cat demon.

You start to shuffle your feet and Krueger is abruptly reminded that he hasn’t said a word to you, just stood there staring at you like a complete idiot. “Ah, no, I was just not expecting anyone to be here,” he tucks his hands into his pockets, idly thumbing at one of his gold coins, “I was a good friend of the woman who lived here.”

You perk up at his words, eyes brightening at something he’s said and hugging the cat closer to your chest, “oh! That was my grandmother!” You chirp, almost bouncing on your heels in excitement, “she left the house to me in her will, so I’ve been trying to fix the place up and make it liveable again.” The cat squirms in your hold, forcing you to plop him down onto the grass below.

“Ah,” Krueger says slowly, all of the pieces slowly falling into place, well, all except for the demon thing, “and what might your name be?”

He holds out a hand for you to shake, but is instead met by an outraged hiss and only just moves his arm out of range in time to avoid the flurry of sharp claws swiping through the air. He can’t help glaring at the damn demon currently hissing and spitting at him, flicking its tongue at him like a bloody snake.

Surprisingly, you still hold your hand out for him, but your eyes seem to have shifted from their brightness to something more subdued, cautious. “You can just call me Badb,” you offer, and it doesn’t have the same enlightening feeling as someone’s true name, but he supposes you must not be as naive as you seem. You give his hand a firm shake, effortlessly ignoring the sharp talon-like claws at the end of his own fingers.

“A pleasure,” he shakes your hand back, feeling the lick of human magic press against his palm. You’re a witch, nowhere near as controlled or as refined as the old woman, but he can sense the potential power hiding within. “Can I expect you to continue your grandmother’s practice?” He asks, watching your eyebrows twitch slightly.

It does draw a soft snort from you, however, and you nod your head, “one day,” you confirm, “though probably not for a while yet, I’m not that good.” Your flustered expression is rather cute, but he doesn’t have long to admire it, because almost as soon as he’s seen it you’re scooping up the cat and bidding him a quick farewell, saying something about having work to do. The demon stares at him from over your shoulder, glaring at him in clear distaste.

Nasty lying creature.

He’s definitely going to need to dig into this a little deeper. A little baby witch? So sweet and soft and perfect for holding between his claws? He wants to gnaw on your bones and squeeze the plushness of your thighs. He wants to settle atop the fireplace with a full belly while you play at making your silly potions and funny human spells.

He just needs to get rid of that damn cat first.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #krueger x you #krueger call of duty #krueger cod #tf 1fae1

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hwaslayer · 9 hours ago

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wildfire (cs) | thirteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, we catch a lil moment with belle 🙄, crying .. lots of crying, just lots of hurt and heartache, more misunderstandings, we see a bit of parents from both sides - esp san's dynamic with his father, flashback scene with smut: oral (f. receiving), 🤠, praises, lots of sweet kisses and tender moments, some nipple play, soft and slow smut!!

—a/n: fic announcement soon!

If the texts yesterday afternoon weren't nerve-wracking enough, it was the downtime in between the texts and seeing San that had you ready to curl up in a ball out of anxiety; fetal position, rocking back and forth as an attempt to rid the feeling. San hadn't texted much after deciding the two of you should talk the following day, and you never questioned why he couldn't just see you the same night he had told you he needed to talk.

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

you: oh.. okay. so let's talk tonight? i just need to finish up a few things, and i'm halfway done on most of my papers and presentations. i think they can wait a bit.

san: no, you should finish up. i've got a ton of things to catch up on so tonight won't work. can we do this tomorrow? i'll come pick you up once we're both done in the lab.

you: are you sure?

san: mhm. i'm sorry again, it really just has been kinda all over the place today.

you: it's fine, san. as long as you can promise me we're okay?

san: we will be. i'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? try to take breaks and rest well.

You accepted it, even if it felt excruciating and painfully long.

These things never turn out well, and you knew your case wasn't gonna be an exception. You were afraid for it, you were nervous and you were wondering what San might do to try and lessen the blow of whatever was coming.

He wouldn't hurt you, right?

He meant it when he said you two would be okay, right?

Even if he tried to be as reassuring, everything about it felt off and cryptic. None of it felt like sunshine and rainbows, none of it felt like the San you felt in love with. None of it felt like the giddy excitement, the comfort, the safety you had come to know and love.

You hated automatically assuming the worse, but nothing was preventing you from doing so— not even San.

Today was actually pretty uneventful, nonetheless. Despite the wait and silence from San, you felt like you managed to get by in one piece. It still felt like everyone was looking at you; like they had all known your deepest, darkest secrets. Like they had been following your every move, especially while you were with San. It still felt awful, but you had learned how to push aside because people could talk and assume— but they would never know the true story.

And who knows? Even if you tried to explain yourself, they wouldn't get it.

You didn't really owe that explanation to anyone, you think.

The only other weird part about your day was when you had tried to help Belle earlier since you had some downtime and she brushed you off completely. She had been avoiding you, and it was pretty obvious she was letting the talk get to her head. She didn't maintain eye contact with you, she didn't acknowledge you, and she didn't talk to you the way that she used to.

—FLASHBACK

You walk into the lab, passing by a few of your labmates with a tiny, toothless smile etched on your lips. There was no Sunwoo around, but there was Belle; yet, she still hadn't turned to acknowledge your presence. You had gotten through your to-do list for Sunwoo's project, leaving you with extra time to spare today. You hadn't been able to dedicate a lot of your support to Belle lately due to all those technical issues you needed to troubleshoot for your project with Sunwoo, and you figured this would be a good time to make up for it.

Unless she had other plans.

"Hey Belle!" You come to her desk, pulling the courage from deep down within you to approach her first. She looks up at you, a brow cocked up before returning her attention to her laptop. "I have some time to help—"

"No thanks, I'm good." She doesn't look at you. "Just so you know, I don't really need extra help anymore. I've got everything figured out already."

"Oh, okay." You step away from her desk, fiddling with your fingers while you stand there looking dumb. "Are you sure?" She pauses her typing before finally looking back up at you with her brows knit tightly together.

"I just said it, didn't I?"

"I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure since I had the time and I haven't been able to help you out as much cause of Sunwoo's project."

"Why don't you go and use your extra time with Professor Choi since you've been doing that anyway?" She gives you a look that settles in the pit of your stomach. You don't say anything to her, even as she shuts her laptop close and stands— brushing past you to get to one of the behavior rooms. You feel a bit hurt, and your other labmates aren't even paying attention to the whole thing; or, maybe they are, and they just don't wanna say anything to dig deeper into the wound.

So, you turn on your heel with your head down, returning to your desk to continue your data analysis in silence.

—END

You try to tell yourself that it doesn't really matter— that you didn't need anyone's reassurance or validation. It hurt despite not being super close to Belle, but you knew she thought of you in a different light now and that wasn't really fair. You could see how it'd look problematic on the surface, but you thought she knew you better than that.

Guess it's also your fault for assuming.

When it's time for San to pick you up at your usual pick-up spot, you grab your keys and head out— still not having changed out of your outfit for the day. You try to take slow steps to not seem too eager, but you can't help it when you see San parked in his usual spot. This time though, he isn't watching for you in the rear view mirror.

"Hey." You swing the door open and slide in. San gives you a small smile, followed by a:

"Hey." He watches as you dip forward to kiss him on the lips like you always do, and he surprisingly takes it. You were getting ready for the rejection or some kind of pull back; but, to San's own knowledge, he did it because he knew it'd be the last time he could savor it.

"You okay? Were you able to finish everything you needed to?"

"Uh, yeah. Think so." He says with a subtle chuckle before driving off.

"Are we going to your house?"

"Thought we could sit at the view and talk, if that's okay with you?" You slowly nod, keeping your eyes trained on San as he drives.

"Okay. You're scaring me, Sannie." He shakes his head.

"Please don't be."

"Then why couldn't we just talk about this like normal at your place?"

"Y/N, you trust me, right?" He quickly looks at you as he comes across a red light. You silently nod, just in time for him to drive off and continue onto the destination. "Okay, so trust me." He's still being so cryptic and distant that you don't even know how to respond. You quietly sit back in your chair and watch the surroundings pass you by, trying to settle the queasiness you feel building in your stomach.

These things never go well, and your case doesn't seem to be a one-off.

San continues to remain silent as he drives the rest of the way to the view, the music softly filling in as background noise that's enough to distract you. When he pulls into the small empty side lot and parks his car, he lets out a sigh and sits back.

"How was your day today?" He asks softly, still avoiding contact with you.

"It was okay, I guess. Better than yesterday."

"That's good."

"San." You adjust your position so you're looking directly at him, body facing him. "What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I don't know where to start."

"You have to start somewhere." He sighs again. "You know, whatever it is, you can tell me. We can figure this out together." You raise your hand to cup his cheek, almost somewhat of a gesture to force him to look at you. And for a minute, you feel him relax under your touch. You can tell he wants to turn and kiss the palm of your hand like he usually does, but he doesn't. "Sannie—"

"We should stop this." Your mouth slightly drops even though you don't know what to say. Your eyes widen, your touch turns cold. You retreat your hand while you let the response sink, San still keeping his gaze out of the window because he truly can't dare to look at you right now.

He'll fold.

He'll forget all about this and risk everything for the both of you.

He shouldn't.

"W-what?"

"We need to stop this, Y/N." He finally looks at you and his gaze feels like an icebox. Everything feels so cold and distant, even if it's supposed to be a front; it's working, and it's fucking you up completely.

"All of a sudden? I-I thought we were fine, what happened? What did I do wrong?" He shakes his head.

"Nothing. It's not anything you did, I'm just trying to be realistic here."

"Realistic? I thought you didn't care about the outside noise?"

"We're only prolonging the inevitable, don't you get it? Everything is going to come crashing down on us whether we like it or not. No matter how hard I try to stop it, this is what it'll eventually come to." You don't really understand where he's coming from or what he's getting at, but it's too late— you feel the tears steadily streaming down your cheeks.

Then, you're sobbing into your hands and you feel pathetic. But San feels terrible, he hates this. He doesn't wanna do this but he's conflicted between right and wrong, between being selfish and letting you go. "San, why?"

"Y/N, please hear me out on this, okay?" He's barely able to answer.

"Why? You ask him again. You cry in his passenger's seat, wiping it away with your sweater sleeves. "You said I could trust you, a-and that you wouldn't hurt me because you didn't care about anyone else."

"I need you to understand that I'm doing this because I care about you."

"But, I love you." San shakes his head as tears streak his own cheeks.

"We're being too selfish." He looks at you. "I am. I'm being too selfish and I don't need this to ruin things for you more. I need to put you first—"

"Why do you get to decide what that looks like for me, San?" He doesn't respond. "So, you don't want this?" He lets out a shaky sigh. "Us?"

"That's far from how I feel and you know it."

"Why can't you just say it back? Why can't we just let this be? I don't care—" You tug on his arm and he grips your hand before shaking his head.

"Because this is already hard as it is. Y/N, listen to me." He pleads, cupping your cheeks. He finally looks deep into your eyes, his thumb gently caressing the surface. The life in his eyes are gone. The glow, the stars. Now, his eyes are dull. They're holding back. They don't show you anything. "We should stop. We need to. Namjoon and the dean are discussing your future at the school, and I need you to keep going in this program. I need you to keep going forward even if that means I can't be right there with you every step of the way. You deserve to be here and you deserve to finish this until the very end. You've worked so hard to get here, and I refuse to let them lose out on you simply because of me."

"This makes no sense to me. Why do we have to do this? We can just be more careful and plan better. We can just—"

"I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me? From Namjoon and the dean? Or are you trying to protect yourself?"

"I don't give a damn about me, Y/N!" He's a little angrier with this response but you know it isn't directed towards you. It's towards Namjoon. The dean. Yunho and Iseul. This whole fucked up situation. "I'm always gonna put you first. It's always been about you and it'll always be about you." You cry a bit harder at his answer, unsure of what to make of this entire thing. You don't know if San really means this or if he is just trying to protect you. You don't know what to do, you don't know if you should keep trusting him the same way.

You don't know if you can, and that's probably because you're blinded by all the overwhelming emotions you're feeling right now.

The both of you sit in this thick silence, your cries now filling the space while San tries to muster up the last bit of his energy to try and make you feel better— to get you to understand this better.

It's not that he wants to, he has to.

"I don't—" He swallows thickly. "I don't wanna do this but I have to. You have to understand." He says at a whisper, more tears streaming down his red-stained cheeks. "You have to understand, baby. Please." He begs. "I don't want them to do anything to you and I don't wanna jeopardize your future. Just listen to me. We have to do this." He leans forward to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away with his thumb.

"No, we don't." You almost whine, but all San can do is shake his head and sit back in his seat.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I have to do what's best for you." His voice shakes. "I really am so sorry, sweetheart." He answers lowly, wiping his remaining tears before retreating back into his shell and showing off his cold demeanor for the remainder of his time with you. "I should get you back."

"I should've never trusted you. I should've known this was all too good to be true. You didn't care." You cry, repeating all this nonsense to try and get him to hurt the same way as you somehow. Because he'll never understand. Everything had led up to this and you were still unprepared for this. Even though you knew you'd be here at some point, nothing would have ever prepared you for the way your heart drops to your stomach; the way you feel nothing but thunder and rain.

Blue and grey.

He does, though.

In fact, he's probably hurting the most because he had to pull the trigger and let you go.

He hates it. He fucking hates it.

He's trying to drown out the rest until he gets you back to your building because he can't take it. He can't take hearing you cry anymore, he can't take hearing you say these awful things because you're angry at the moment. He hopes that you'll see where he's coming from eventually because all he's ever wanted to do was protect you and keep you safe.

All he's ever done was care about you, and you only.

All he's ever felt was love for you, and you only. You showed him what love was like again and he'll never take that for granted.

This was him showing you love. He needed to put you first.

"I care about you more than anything. I'm trying to do what's best—"

"Without involving me? Deciding for me? Yeah." You wipe away at your cheeks once more before unbuckling your seatbelt. "Whatever San, save it." You tell him before swinging the door open and stepping out. "You were just trying to protect me. I get it."

"Baby, don't be like that. Please don't make this harder than it already is. I would never intentionally hurt you. You know this." He tries to reach for your hand, but you move it away.

"You don't get to call me that anymore." You roll your eyes. "Anyway, goodluck, San." Is all you say before slamming his door shut and storming off. You begin to cry to yourself again, feeling sorry for yourself and stupid. You know deep down that San was only trying to do the right thing and that he was trying to protect you. But, right now, you're angry, you're sad, you're upset. You feel empty and betrayed and you just need to feel this out in order to let it pass.

This too shall pass.

When you head upstairs, you quickly pack up a few things, along with your laptop and other school-related necessities before locking up and heading to your car. You feel a migraine coming on, which definitely means you should take it easy and stay behind; but, all you can think about is getting to your mom and being away from school for a few days.

Nothing's better than a mother's love and comfort, even though you aren't entirely sure how she's gonna react to this, how she'll feel about San.

In the end, you don't hate him.

You can't.

You could never.

—FLASHBACK

"That was a good girl's date, wasn't it? We got massages, our nails done. Now we're eating a banana split under this nice weather." Your mom chuckles. "You need to come home more often."

"I know, I know." You scoop up a good helping of the banana split, internally conflicted on when is a good time to let your mom know about what's been going on. She would probably be surprised and scared for you, but your mom had a good way of choosing her words. She had a good way of being there for you but making her concerns known without pointing fingers or putting any blame on your actions.

"How has school been? Your friends?"

"They've been good. We've all been busy with our labs."

"Jiung's been good? You think you guys are all gonna stay in the labs you're currently rotating in?"

"He's good, yeah. And I think so, they all seem to be enjoying it."

"How about you?" You poke at the banana before scooping another helping. Your mom can already tell there's something else on your mind, but she's gonna let you take the floor and open up about it when you're ready.

Which is now.

You just don't know if she's ready.

"Uh, yeah. It's been good!" You give her a small smile. "I'm still deciding on my route, but it's been good." Pause. "There's actually something else I've been meaning to tell you."

"Okay, try me!" She chuckles. "What is it?"

"I've been seeing someone."

"Oh?" She laughs. "Well, isn't that great?! I mean, you never needed a man, okay. But, as long as they make you happy and add value to your life. I just want you happy." She laughs. "Who is he, where did you meet? Tell me everything!" You sigh and take a deep breath before starting.

"We met at school. In the lab. Because.. he's my rotation professor." You give her a look, afraid of what she'll say. She stops mid-bite and almost chokes, setting her spoon down before looking at you with knitted brows.

"Your.. what?! Y/N—"

"Mom, please. Just hear me out before you start assuming and saying things. He didn't abuse his power, I didn't throw myself on him, okay? It just happened." You immediately say and look at her with puppy eyes. "We just happened. We grew feelings for each other and just clicked really well. We've been keeping things lowkey."

"But, Y/N. Honey, I say this sincerely. What if people find out? Not that I want them to, but they will." You shrug.

"I don't know, we'll figure it out."

"H-how old is he?"

"32."

"Oh, okay. He's young."

"And handsome." You rest your chin on the palm of your hand and smile. "His name is San. Choi San. He's pretty popular in the bioengineering and neuroscience world."

"That's good." Your mom is slightly shutting down and you know it's because her thoughts are traveling at 100mph and she doesn't know what to think or do.

Or say.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I know you're worried but I'll be fine, okay? I promise. It'll all be fine." You add to break the silence and reach for her hand.

"I just don't want him to hurt you and then you lose everything you've worked so hard for over him."

"I just don't know where this is gonna take us. Things feel too overwhelming. Like.. I just don't want any talk getting into his head about us."

"It could really ruin things for the both of you, Y/N. Please be smart about your actions. Don't throw everything away because of him. That's all I ask. Just by the looks of it, I know he makes you happy and you're riding cloud nine, but you need to remember who comes first— yourself."

"I know. I hear you. I don't mean to cause any unnecessary worry or anything."

"No, you're not. Lovey, I'm your mom, I'm always gonna worry regardless. But, I trust you enough to make the right decisions and to take care of yourself. I know you'll be smart and I know you won't be completely reckless. I'm not gonna lie, this— this isn't a 'conventional' relationship and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet." She sighs and looks at you with a hint of concern in her eyes. "I'm trying hard to see this from your side, not from my side, and I think it'll take me time to get used to. In the end, I just don't want you to get hurt. I don't want people to think bad about you, and I don't want you to lose everything you've worked so hard for."

"I know, but it's all okay. I promise." You promise her, but you don't even know if you believe the promise yourself. "You can trust him." She doesn't say much, and you can tell she's trying her hardest to swallow her true emotions.

"Just becareful."

—END

San picks up the phone to call Namjoon, hands slightly trembling. He's still sitting in his car, still sitting in the same spot because it's his turn to cry and let out all his feelings. He hits the steering wheel before running a hand through his hair, second-guessing all his decisions.

Why did it have to come down to all of this? Did he really have to? How long before he folds and comes back to you?

Before he says fuck this all together and chases after you?

He keeps trying to remind himself that he needs to protect you and let this blow over. He keeps trying to remind himself that it'll all be worth it and you both will find your way back to each other again.

In time.

"San."

"It's over with." Is all he is able to say before Namjoon lets out a small sigh on the other end.

"I'm sorry, San. Look, just give this time—" Quite frankly, he doesn't wanna hear it anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, not for awhile.

"It's fine." He cute him off. "You don't have to say it. Just please make sure nothing happens to her."

"You got my word. I'll figure this out. Don't worry." San ends the call before he's digging his head into his hands and cries.

And cries.

Because now his days are going to blend back to the black and white filter he used to have on. He'll never experience that warmth, those colors, without you around.

He'll never witness where the sea meets the sky, when the sun sinks below the horizon. When dawn meets dusk.

His days will be monotone and dull, lifeless and cold. Gloomy. Days he had prayed to get past and never return to.

But, he's here again.

And somehow, this pain feels worse this time around than the first time.

—FLASHBACK

San sighs when he pulls up to his parents' house, aggressively shifting the gear to park before taking a moment to himself. He wasn't happy when his father left him a voicemail, scolding him for the rumors going around about him dating his student. He was quick to call him names and demand him to make things right before his name could be tainted in the industry. San isn't gonna lie, he's always looked up to his father. Things changed when San started making a name for himself in the academic industry, creating some kind of competitive tension between the two. Well, San never felt that way. His dad strongly did though, for whatever reason.

He never understood it. It's whatever.

What San wasn't having was the fact that his father kept calling you a little girl who only wanted to use him to work her way in and up.

He slams the door to his car, adjusting his hat and his jacket before tapping the code into the keypad on the front door.

"San, is that you?" He hears his mom's sweet voice call out to him. He smiles softly when she comes into view in the hallway, opening her arms for a hug. "Please don't mind your father, you know how he is. He's just concerned." She gives the back of his neck a reassuring massage.

"Mm, yeah. I can feel the concern especially when he starts calling me out my name."

"San." His mom gives him a look before his dad looks up from the paper he's reading on the couch, forehead crinkling when he sees his son walk in.

"Why are you here?"

"Hi to you, too." San says while his mom steps in the middle.

"Honey." She turns to his father.

"So, what was up with that voicemail?"

"Why don't you tell us what's been going on with you and your so-called girlfriend? Do you even care about yourself or what this could do to your career? You're so careless—"

"So what if I'm careless! You don't even know her so you don't have a right to do that!"

"Are you actually that stupid, San? Do you know how damaging this could be for you, for us?"

"What does this have to do with you?!" San's voice raises.

"It has everything to do with us! Everyone thinks you either forced that girl into a relationship or she threw herself on you and you stupidly took the bait!"

"Even if I said it wasn't like that, you wouldn't listen anyway!"

"Are you serious about her?"

"What makes you think I'm not? We're two grown adults who are capable of making our own decisions and knew the consequences from the very beginning."

"And you think she'll stay? Someone that young and who is just getting started with her life, basically. You think she'll stay and be there for you when times get rough?"

"Absolutely." His dad scoffs.

"Is that so? Wishful thinking. You couldn't even keep Iseul and now you're downgrading to a st—"

"Hey!" San's mom cuts off his father's statement. "That is enough from you. Don't finish that sentence."

"You have no idea what Iseul put me through!" San's tone is louder to match his father's energy. "I found somebody who genuinely and truly cares about me and who I am. That isn't enough for you? Just because she's a student, but a grown adult at that?! You can't even be happy for a second? You still find a way to be on Iseul's side even though she cheated with my bestfriend!"

"Maybe it's time you realized you pushed Iseul away. That was your own doing. And this girl? Don't come to me and make me tell you 'I told you so' when she leaves after she's gotten everything she needs from you." San's dad is fuming in front of him. "How could you be so sure things will be smooth sailing with her, hm? What makes you think this can work?"

"This is fucking bullshit, I'm not explaining myself to you. If you don't wanna be happy for me and support me, then so be it."

—END

San thinks maybe his dad was right; maybe this wasn't meant to be, and was just supposed to be another fleeting moment, another lesson.

Even though deep down, he knows it's far from it.

As he sits in his home office, he scrolls through old pictures of you and him together— you, pictures you've sent him. He feels the rush of sadness hit him like bricks, his chest almost physically hurting from the ache. He has this sudden urge to text you and call you, tell you how much he misses you.

But, he stops himself.

What if you stopped caring? What if you were so mad at him that you hated him?

He couldn't bear with it.

If only he knew how much you cried and yearned for him every night, if only he knew how much your head hurt while you laid on your mom's lap while she ran her hands through your hair— gently cooing you and shushing you to help you get some sleep.

If only he knew.

"Mom, I'm sorry." You cry and cry, laying your head on her lap as you let everything out. "You were right, I messed everything up. This was all so stupid. I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that." She shushes you and tries to coo you. "Don't ever say that again." She looks at you. "What happened?" You gather the strength to tell her everything that's been going on. How deep your relationship went with San and how well he took care of you. How you weren't always the most careful but the only reason why things blew up was because of Hae-jin, Iseul and Yunho. How Iseul and Yunho just keep trying to get in between, how Jiung even went to Professor Kim about all of this.

How San broke this off claiming he wanted to protect you and put you first.

How utterly sad and betrayed you feel.

"I'm just so tired of feeling this way. I hate how alone I feel. I hate how much I miss him. I hate how this unfolded the way it did."

"I'm so sorry, honey. You need to let things be for now, okay? I know that's not what you wanna hear, but you need to. Especially for school and yourself."

"Why does anyone care? Why does it matter?"

"People have nothing better to do, and I'm sorry it had to be those two and Jiung."

"I'm so tired, mom. When will this pass? What did I do wrong? Why did he leave so quickly?"

"Lovey. You did nothing wrong. It wasn't you at all, and it wasn't San either. The circumstances are just tough. You didn't know it would play out this way and I'm sure he has his reasons."

"What if he's just using that as an excuse? What if he really doesn't want this anymore?"

"If he really cared about you, why would he lie, Y/N? I'm sure he was doing his best to protect you both, especially you. I know it hurts right now, hun. But, maybe this is for the best." You don't wanna hear it even though your mom might be right.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this was just telling you this could never work between you two.

No matter how hard you both tried.

San's urge to text or call doesn't lessen as the next few days go by, especially when he notices he hasn't seen any trace of you. He'll usually see you walking towards the biology building for Yunho's class or making your way to the dining hall with the girls.

If San hadn't overheard Sunwoo telling his lab mates that you were sick, he would've gone crazy.

It still doesn't help that you're feeling unwell and he can't do anything about it.

"Sunwoo." San pokes his head out of his door, causing Sunwoo to lift his head from his laptop and shift his attention towards him. "Can you meet really quickly?"

"Yeah, sure thing. Be right over!"

"Thanks." San heads back to his desk and lets out a breath, waiting for Sunwoo to come. It takes him less than 5 minutes to finally make his way into the office, rubbing his hands down his jeans. "Hey." San looks up at him. "Thanks for coming in on short notice."

"No prob! What's up, Professor Choi?"

"I wanted to talk to you really quickly because I wanted you to hear it from me directly. Starting next week, we'll be losing Y/N's support. She'll be heading to Professor Kim's lab."

"O-oh. Okay. Damn." Sunwoo ticks his head to the side. "Professor Kim with the steal." San chuckles a bit.

"Yeah." San can't even hide his sadness when he looks down at the papers beneath his hands that Sunwoo catches on and he feels bad. He still doesn't know the details and he never will, but if it's one thing he can gather right now, it's the fact that the room feels cold and empty.

It's the fact that San literally has to force himself to smile and deliver this news like all is okay and no big deal— when in fact, it fucking is.

Sunwoo feels so bad.

"So, I know she's out sick right now, but will I still get to see her before she goes? I wanna talk to her to wrap things up, too."

"When she returns, we'll make sure she has time to close loose ends with you and gather her things."

"Hm." Sunwoo nods slowly. "Okay."

"I'm sorry this came up so suddenly, but I had to make a few changes around here. We all thought she'd be a better fit with Professor Kim."

"I see. She's super smart and incredibly great at what she does, I know she'll do well in whatever she does and wherever she goes." San nods.

"Yeah, she will." He sighs. "There's another rotation student that I might bring in next quarter that might be a good fit to work with you, too. His name is Baehyuk."

"Cool. Down to meet whenever the time is right."

"Thanks, Sunwoo."

"No, thank you for always giving me some help and pushing me forward." San gives him a small smile. "Everything will work out."

"Yeah." Is all he could say in response. Because he hopes it will.

Right now, it seems like a far reach.

All San wants to do is love you, rather than hiding just how deeply in love he was with you.

—FLASHBACK

"Here, baby." He turns to hand you a plate with a smile on his face. "Think you can help me dry the last of these dishes and put 'em up?"

"Course, chef." He chuckles, watching as you tip-toe with nothing but his shirt on to reach over and place the dry dishes into the proper cabinet. You follow suit with the last three dishes, setting the towel aside while San wipes away the water droplets around the sink. "We did it, babe! All clean."

"Sure did." He laughs, caging you in against the counter to kiss you sweetly. "Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome." You giggle. "Thank you for making dinner."

"As long as you enjoyed." You nod.

"What do you wanna do for the rest of the evening?"

"Mm, we can watch a movie and fall asleep here on the couch without any worry."

"That's fun." You smile.

"Or, we can do other things that I have in mind." He brushes the hair away from your face while you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Ooh." You reply in a sing-song tone. "Care to indulge?"

"Absolutely." He says just as he swiftly carries you and wraps your legs around him. You squeal as he walks over to the couch and gently plops you down onto the soft cushions, wasting no time to attach his lips to every inch of skin he can. He slowly hovers over you, hands roaming up your shirt and tugging material along with it as he continues to move upward— exposing your cute pink panties from beneath. He sinks to his knees and pries your legs open after fixing your position to the edge of the couch. "Let me make you feel good, love."

"Yes please, Sannie. Please." You beg, watching as San slides down your panties and tosses them aside. His hands caress your thighs, giving them a good squeeze while laying open-mouth kisses along the surface. You continue to watch him, biting on your lip when he hovers over where you need him at most. He licks a stripe up your folds, causing your head to cock back against the cushion. He begins to gently kiss and suck at your heat— a satisfying, breathy moan leaving your lips as you let San relish being in between your thighs. He laps away at your clit, tonguing down your pussy as if he had been deprived of you for years.

You love/hate how good he is at this. "Babe—" You moan loudly, hips now working on their own terms against his mouth. He subtly nods as he continues to suck and lap away at your heat, tongue keeping you wet and filthy; just the way he likes it. "God, right there—" You whine, hips rolling upward and grinding against his mouth, his tongue.

You used to be so shy.

Now, you're not afraid to tell him what you want and he fucking loves it. "Oh—San— gonna—" Your statement comes out broken as you continue to work against his mouth, orgasm crashing down like a harsh wave against the shore. You grip his hair, body twitching as San continues to latch on and groan against your pussy; incredibly hard while watching the way your body surrenders all. "Fuck." You whisper, still twitching due to the aftershocks from your first orgasm of the night.

"That's my girl." He's back to kissing your thighs, hands gently rubbing up and down your leg as a way to soothe you.

"Need you." You tug him by the shirt to plant a messy kiss against his lips— shirt soon to be discarded on the floor, along with his sweats.

Now you're on his lap, slowly riding his cock just the way he likes it— the couch's throw blanket resting against the small of your back and draped along San's lap.

It's his favorite position after all.

"Mm— just like that, baby." He whispers against your lips as you continue to ride him slowly on the couch. "Just like that." He repeats. "You're my good girl, right? Just mine?" He asks lowly and you nod, letting out a sweet moan as he pinches your nipple and watches your head tilt back in pleasure. "Oh, fuck— just like that." His head rests back against the couch, feeling your walls brush against him and drag against his rock hard cock. "All mine."

"Mm'fuck, Sannie." You keep your head back, intense pleasure bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You take him slowly, deeply; his cock hitting all the right spots every time you do a 'lil tug and pull— hips carefully rolling against him.

"So fucking sexy." He groans. "God, you're everything." His lips drag against your skin, tongue swirling around your perky nipples as your hands tug on the ends of his soft, black hair. "Everything to me." He whispers as if your skin could hold all of the universe's secrets. The blanket is barely keeping up with your movements. San's hand comes up along the base of your neck, bringing you back down to envelope your lips with his.

The kiss is full of hunger.

The kiss is slow and steady.

The kiss is messy.

You break the kiss first, body slowly crumbling in his grip when you feel your high approaching quick. You moan loudly, breath ragged as you pant; hips slightly picking up the pace to push yourself further and further until you reach the edge.

"Oh—" San matches your moans. "That's it, sweetheart. Cum for me." He praises you, voice deep— tone sending vibrations all the way down to your core. "Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum all over this dick, angel." Hearing San talk the way he's talking is enough to make your coil snap. He continues to coo you as you come undone on his lap; stuttering in your movements and trembling in his grip. He places his hands on your hips, fingers digging deep into the flesh while he fucks up into you— reaching his high shortly after you with a loud groan and hiss. "Fuck, that was so good, baby." You giggle, forehead against his while his hands gently caress and your back. You leave a tender kiss against his plump lips, and he chases with a few repeated kisses before bringing you down with him on the couch. The both of you lay underneath the throw blanket, now properly covering most of your bodies while San holds you from behind. He has his propped up by an arm while you both watch the show on TV, but San finds his thoughts wandering elsewhere at some point. He begins to look around the house and notices how different it feels since you've been around.

Good different.

A space that used to he so grey, so lifeless; now has remnants of you everywhere.

Your polaroids.

Pictures of you and San in frames.

Your little stuffed animal keychains and rings thrown onto the kitchen island, or the room. Or even his desk in the office.

Your little post-it notes. Your favorite chips and snacks littered around the pantry.

You were there everywhere he turned, and he finds it's one of his biggest blessings.

Especially when you lay here on the couch with him, completely not minding the idea San proposed of just falling asleep on the couch together while sorting through movies.

You agreed so quickly and so happily.

No matter how big or small, most ideas just seemed silly in his last relationship.

But, now he has you— someone who is happy to just be with him and spend time with him. No matter how big or small the idea, the plans.

San loves you.

And he'll never take it for granted.

—END

—read 13.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

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loulou-land · 3 days ago

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The Perfect Beach Day

Day 12 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | a day at the beach | 1,465 words | on ao3

Buck had been craving a day at the beach for what felt like weeks now. Living in LA meant he could simply go whenever he wanted. Oftentimes, Buck would drive his Jeep, park by the beach and just sit there letting the salty air and rhythmic crash of the waves soothe him. Other times, he'd grab his surfboard and hit the waves until exhaustion set in leaving him feeling satisfied and at peace.

Yet, in all the time he'd been with Tommy, they hadn't gone to the beach together. He’d wanted to change that. Buck had whined about his lack of ocean time, as well as his desires to go with Tommy until the other man had given in, kissing Buck on the forehead with a promise to make the trip on their next day off.

But the universe had other plans, because their schedules had refused to line up for weeks. That was, until now.

Which was the reason Buck was all but vibrating, barely able to contain his excitement right now. He had been looking forward to this all week, already picturing Tommy shirtless, the sun casting a golden glow over him, enhancing all his yummy muscles, his curls all tousled and unruly. The mere thought had Buck grinning like an idiot and foaming at the mouth.

Of course, him being who he was—he’d had so many plans for their first beach outing together that he'd had to bring out the clipboard. He meticulously made a list of everything he wanted to experience with Tommy—sunbathing, sand-castle building, swimming, having a picnic, taking an ice cream break and ending the day by watching the sunset. Buck had accounted for every single detail he could think of, wanting this to be the perfect beach day.

“Baby, we haven’t even parked yet,” Tommy said, amused as he glanced at Buck, practically bouncing in his seat, one hand on the door handle.

“I know,” Buck sighed. “I'm just excited.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Tommy said dryly, his mouth twitching slightly.

Buck shot him a dark look. “Oh, har har. Go ahead, make fun of me now. But wait till you see all the fun things I’ve planned.”

“You do know we’re here for the day, right? Not a whole week,” Tommy pointed out as he finally pulled into a parking spot.

“I know,” Buck replied cheekily. “That's why I made the list. It’s perfectly designed to maximize our time.” He turned in his seat, rummaging behind him until he came in contact with what he'd been looking for.

“Aha!” His fingers closed around the edge of the clipboard, and he triumphantly pulled it out, presenting it to Tommy like it was a sacred object.

Tommy hummed, taking one look at it before deadpanning, “Didn’t know we were bringing the clipboard along for our day.”

Buck narrowed his eyes. “It has the list. Of course I’d bring it.”

“Oh yes, Of course,” Tommy said, voice dripping with indulgent amusement. Before Buck could snark back at him, Tommy reached out, tugging him in by the back of his neck and pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips.

Buck let himself be distracted for a few blissful seconds before reality set it. He pulled away, squinting suspiciously. “Nice try, but I won't let you distract me from the schedule.”

“I wasn’t—” Tommy started, but the rest of his words were cut off as Buck eagerly jumped out of the truck, heading to the back to grab their things.

Tommy shook his head, amused, as he followed, gathering the rest of their gear. “Alright, lead the way. I’m sure you’ve got the perfect spot in mind.”

“If you must know, I do.” Buck said smugly. He had been to this beach plenty of times and he knew the ideal spot—one that offered both shade and sun, and was close enough to the water but also far enough from the tide when it started to rise.

And for once, luck was on their side. The spot was still available.

Buck set out the towels while Tommy placed the cooler and their bags down. He took a long, satisfied look around before launching into a rambling explanation of everything they were going to do.

“Okay, so I was thinking we’ll start with sunbathing. The sun’s rays are pretty light right now so we don’t—” Buck was interrupted by large hands grabbing his waist. Before he could make sense of it, the world tilted and the next thing he knew, he was upside down—his view consisting of Tommy’s very fine ass.

Buck gasped, kicking playfully as he wiggled in Tommy’s grasp. “Tommy! What are you doing? Put me down!”

“Mmm, in a minute,” Tommy said, laughing.

“Oh, you better not be thinking about doing what I think you are,” Buck warned lightly.

“We’re going swimming,” Tommy said innocently, moving closer to the water.

“Babe, we were supposed to sunbathe first! I had a plan,” Buck whined, swatting at Tommy’s backside.

Tommy moved one of his hands over the back of Buck’s thigh before sliding up, giving him a light pinch on the ass.

Buck yelped, then noticed they were almost in the water now. “Okay, fine!” We’ll go swimming first. You can put me down now”

Tommy ignored him.

“Oh, you are not seriously going to—Tom—” Buck’s protest was cut off as he was unceremoniously tossed into the cold water.

Buck resurfaced sputtering dramatically, as water dripped from his hair and down his face. He shook his head wildly, before setting his sights on Tommy. There must have been something in his eyes, because Tommy took a cautious step back, lifting his hands placatingly.

“Sweetheart,” Tommy started, attempting—and failing—to look apologetic, before bursting out laughing. “I'm sorry…you just look like a drowned angry cat.”

Buck lunged at him.

They wrestled around in the water, before switching to dunking each other, splashing water everywhere, as their laughter filled the air. Eventually, their playful rowdiness slowed, and they naturally drifted closer to each other. Buck wrapped his legs around Tommy’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder as he clung to him like a starfish.

Which reminded him of the documentary he'd watched the other night.

So, naturally, he had to start spewing facts about them.

“Did you know starfish aren't actually fish?” Buck murmured into Tommy’s ear.

He felt Tommy’s smile more than he saw it. “Tell me more.” Tommy replied, just like he always did when Buck had facts to share.

Tommy hummed as he listened—asking questions, keeping Buck from going off topic like he tended to do—his fingers lightly tracing random shapes over Buck’s forearms.

After a while, they decided to head back to their towels. Tommy grabbed a large beach towel, turning to Buck with a soft smile.

Buck grinned, stepping into Tommy’s arms and letting him dry him off. He shivered slightly whenever Tommy’s touch lingered over particularly sensitive spots. He watched Tommy’s face, his breath hitching at the love he saw reflected in his eyes, felt in the gentleness of his hands as he took care of him. Almost a year together, and Tommy still stole the breath from his lungs.

“How’s that? Good?” Tommy asked, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Buck just smiled and leaned in, kissing him slow and deep, tasting the salt of the ocean on Tommy’s lips. He deepened the kiss, chasing the taste, searching for Tommy’s warm tongue, moaning when he found it. Tommy pulled him closer, when—a screech farther up the beach reminded them of where they were. They broke apart, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

Tommy stepped back, but not before he pressed a soft kiss to Buck’s cheek.

Buck beamed.

Once dried, they settled onto the towel. Tommy sat first, Buck settling in front of him as he leaned back into Tommy’s chest. He sighed as Tommy’s arms came around him, holding him protectively. He never got tired of this—of the solid warmth of Tommy at his back, the steadiness, the quiet comfort. He melted into it, letting the stress of the past few weeks fade away. The salty air and the faint scent of Tommy's sunscreen grounded him, as they watched the waves roll in.

After a while, Tommy murmured in his ear, his voice a low rumble against Buck’s back. “So, what’s next on the list?”

Buck thought for a moment, then let out a soft, contented sigh. “You know what? The list can wait. Let’s just stay like this for now.”

Tommy hummed in agreement, pressing a lingering kiss to Buck’s shoulder.

And so, they stayed wrapped up in each other, watching the waves, enjoying their perfect beach day—exactly as it was.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #day at the beach #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #fluff #attempt at humor #my fluffebruary fics

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organic-bloodbath · 19 hours ago

Note

Heyyy I was wondering if I could request a little smt smt from you

I’ve just found out that National Shower with a Friend Day is today (I think its an American idk) and I was wondering if we could pretend its an international day and write a story about Kang Dae-Ho discovering it and asking his friend (reader) to shower with him 👀👀👀

Friends to lovers vibes yk

No pressure if you dont want to do this lol

Shower confessions

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: A moment in the shower together takes a turn in your friendship.

A/N: I'm European so i had never heard of that before lmao. But i had fun writing it and i hope you have fun reading it ♡

☆☆☆

You and Dae-ho had been friends for the past 5 years. You knew everything about him and he about you – he was your best friend in your entire life. You were closer to him than with any other friend of yours, some people already thought that the two of you were dating but your friendship had always been completely platonic. Dae-ho had never implied or made it seem that there was anything romantic going on between you – or maybe you were just totally oblivious.

At the moment, Dae-ho was hanging out at your apartment, like he did almost every day. You lived only across the street from each other, so it took only couple of minutes to walk to your place. Often he'd rather come visit you or you him instead of texting or talking on the phone when you could easily come inside.

For Dae-ho, your friendship had been just platonic as well, nothing romantic, even though you would hug a lot and cuddle during movies at home. He saw you as his best friend, though during your entire friendship, he hadn't been in a relationship with any other girl. Neither had you with any other guy.

For your other friends? Everyone knew that the two of you were just in denial of your real feelings towards each other.

You were in the kitchen, cutting cucumber into pieces on a chopping board for a salad you were preparing to eat with your lunch soon.

"Y/N?" Dae-ho said by the door, making you lay the knife down on the counter and turn around.

"Hm?"

Dae-ho was unsure if he should suggest it or not, not knowing what you would think about it. He knew you were really close, but where would you draw the line?

"You heard what day it is today?" Dae-ho asked.

"Um, Friday?"

"It's the Shower with a Friend Day," he informed you. "It's pretty self-explanatory."

"Oh, really? That's a thing?" You raised your eyebrows. "Huh, I wasn't aware of that."

"Any plans tonight?"

"Well, i did plan to have a movie marathon in the evening. Where you are more than welcome as well, obviously," you told him and then smirked, putting your hand on your hip. "What, you want to shower together?"

"Well, it is an official day for that," he shrugged, trying to act all nonchalant and like he didn't really care. He wanted to make it seem like it was your idea.

"Hmm," you hummed, amused. "Well, i'm going for a run so i do need to shower tonight," you thought outloud. "And you're joining the movie marathon with me, hm? It'd be upsetting to eat all the food alone."

☆☆☆

You and Dae-ho had seen each other without clothes before. Many times when you were wearing only your bra and underwear and once or twice without any piece of clothing. You weren't worried about Dae-ho seeing your body, you weren't self-conscious and he had already seen you, though it was a couple of years ago. It wasn't a big deal - right?

After your run, you stopped by a store before going back home. You had to buy more shampoo, you had squeezed the last bit of the previous bottle. While standing by the shelves full of different brands and scents of shampoo and conditioner, for a few seconds your mind somehow wandered to one question.

What scent would Dae-ho like?

You didn't know why the question popped in your mind. Surely he didn't care what kind of shampoo you used. Your shower wasn't very large, but two people were able to use it, though there wouldn't be much space left. He would be close enough to be able to smell your hair when you were washing it. You knew he disliked coconut, atleast, but so did you.

Ugh, he wouldn't care, so it was whatever. You still chose one you hadn't used before, just to try it out.

☆☆☆

When you stepped into the shower behind the plastic curtain, joining Dae-ho already standing there, Dae-ho's gaze wandered on your bare body, but he quickly looked away when you stood in front of him and looked towards him.

You were beautiful, all of you, there was no denying in that. Seeing you without clothes on did fluster him a little but this wasn't the first time. He could see the small tattoo of a frog on your left hip, which was covered by your jeans or sweater most of the time, unless you were wearing a crop top during summer.

You turned the water on, letting it hit your head and back, leaving Dae-ho almost dry.

"Oh, right. I suppose we'll have to take turns," he said, but you grabbed his elbow and pulled him closer to you so that you were both able to get wet.

"Nah, we'll both fit," you chuckled. There was only an inch between you, but Dae-ho soon moved a step away after a moment when he had become wet enough to start washing himself.

You turned the water off as you started putting the shampoo on your hair. It was the new one you had bought from the store.

He took a small step closer to you again and for a second you were confused why he was leaning towards you, but he only grabbed his bottle of shampoo behind you over your shoulder.

"Have you changed your shampoo?" Dae-ho asked when you had rubbed enough of it all around your hair, sniffing his nose above you.

"How did you know?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. You doubted he had put attention on your hair product collection.

"It smells different than usually," he stated.

"You've smelled my hair?"

"I mean, not on purpose obviously, that'd be weird. But i do smell it every time we hug," he explained. You were shorter than him, the top of your head reaching just below his nose.

"Oh, right," you chuckled.

"I like it though," he blurted out.

"Well, i'm glad you do," you smiled, not knowing what else to respond to that.

You washed your hair and were about to start adding the conditioner, taking the pink bottle in your hand.

But then, the bottle slipped off from your hand when you were trying to squeeze a little bit of the conditioner out. It landed on the tiles right by your feet. You both looked at it and knew that there was very little room to kneel down on the floor without hitting the other person.

You and Dae-ho's gazed met.

"So, i suppose i'll have to go down to get it," you mumbled.

"I guess," he said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "I can get it too."

"No, i'll get it," you shook your head. "Um, could you turn around for a second?"

He did as told and you kneeled down to grab the bottle, then getting back up, allowing Dae-ho to turn around again. However, you hadn't realised that as the bottle fell on the floor, it had stayed open and a little of the conditioner was spilled on the floor, making the tiles slippery.

Accidentally, you stepped right on the exact spot and slipped backwards. Dae-ho managed to grab you before you'd either hit your head on the wall or fall completely on the floor on your butt.

His hand was around your waist, your back against his chest. Sure, you had hugged him countless of times, almost daily, but you had always had your clothes on. Sure, you had seen him naked before, but you had never touched his bare skin before, besides his arms.

You were frozen on your spot, as were Dae-ho as well. You were suddenly extremely aware of every inch of his skin, his hand resting right under your breasts.

"Um," you mumbled and stood back up again, Dae-ho helping you. "Thanks."

"No problem," he stuttered. As you looked at his face, his cheeks had turned burning red.

You continued rubbing conditioner into your hair in silence, until moved to grab the body gel.

"Yeah, sure," he said and took the bottle in his hands.

"Could you rub this on my back?" you suggested. "I can't really reach all of it with my hands. You know, having this little space left to really move my arms around now."

You turned your back towards him and moved your hair over your shoulder out of the way. Dae-ho laid his hand on your left shoulder, taking it slowly across your neck to your right shoulder. His movements were so slow his touch gave you goosebumps on every spot he touched, tingles radiating all around your back.

He slowly lowered his hand towards your lower back, making sure not to miss a single area. The lower his hands wandered, the faster your heart started to race. His left hand was on your hip, fingers touching the frog tattoo, when he had reached your lower back and then he pulled his right hand away. You felt disappointment rise in your chest, wanting to have him touch you again. His other hand still rested on your hip though.

"All done," he said quietly and feeling his hot breath against your shoulder made you more aware how close he really was to you at the moment.

You stretched your neck to look at him over your shoulder, not turning your body towards him. Both of you had frozen still on your own spots, your bodies automatically pulling each other closer like magnets.

Dae-ho's heart was beating so fast it was about to burst out of his chest. He was barely able to breathe and had to concentrate on his breathing more than usual to stay calm. Being this close to you, having no distance between your bodies anymore, was making him crazy - absolutely insane.

Dae-ho wanted to know what you were thinking. He also wondered what would happen when you'd step out of the shower. Right now you were in your own intimate world which felt like being separated from the reality. It was only a shower, but having you this close to him and having this feeling inside his chest and stomach made it feel much more than just a shower – it felt almost magical.

"Could you wash my back too?" he asked quietly, breaking the thick silence lingering between you.

Your eyes were locked with each other, neither of you saying a single word in a while, only drowning into each other's eyes.

"Yeah, of course."

He turned around like you had previously, and you were now facing his back, which was a lot larger than yours. You took his body wash and started rubbing it across his shoulders and back. When you first laid your hand on his shoulder, he flinched a little.

"All done," you whispered, your hand resting on his shoulder, unable to let go. It was like your hand was suddenly glued on his skin.

Dae-ho eventually turned around to face you again, but you still kept your hand on his shoulder.

Eventually you managed to get out of your trance and turned the water back on, letting it pour on your body.

"Come on," you said and motioned him to come closer. "Hop in."

He hesitated for a moment until came to stand under the water, having barely an inch between your chests again like in the beginning. He was about to lift his hands to wash his hair, but you stopped him mid-way, putting your hand on his.

"May i?" you asked, lifting your hands to hover over both of his ears, trapping his head between your palms. He only gave you a small nod, giving you the permission to start brushing your fingers through his short hair, massaging his scalp as the water poured against his head.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. You weren't sure if you had ever examined his face this closely, seeing all the smallest details clearly. You had always thought he was handsome, one of the most good-looking men you knew.

When you were finished, Dae-ho opened his eyes and looked into your eyes. Your hands had slowly fallen on his cheeks.

"Is it too weird to kiss you right now?" he asked softly, for a moment not realising he had actually said those words outloud.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a shaky breath in, until you gathered all your courage and pulled his face closer. You pressed your lips softly on his, the water still hitting your heads.

He kissed you back immediately, resting his hands on your lower back. As your kiss deepened, and his tongue found its way inside your mouth, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Oh, wow," you breathed out when the kiss ended and bit your lip.

"Yeah," was the only thing he managed to mumble.

"Why do i think we should have done that sooner?"

"Because we should have," Dae-ho chuckled. "Why don't we get your hair washed and we can continue that somewhere... dryer?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Good idea."

He started brushing his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp which made you feel so good. You looked into his eyes the entire time, loving to see him look so concentrated.

Dae-ho turned off the water, and both of you stepped out of the shower.

Eventually, you had to pull away to breathe.

When you had dryed yourselves and dressed up, before Dae-ho was able to say anything, you crashed your lips on his again. Your hair was dripping water on the floor, creating a small puddle by your feet, but at the moment you didn't care. Your hands explored each other's bodies, not able to get enough of the other.

"Could i, maybe, i don't know - take you on a date this weekend?" Dae-ho asked, still nervous even though you had kissed him twice already. "A real date. Not a platonic one, you know. More than just as friends."

A smile spread on your face. "I'd like that."

He smiled widely as well.

"I hope it's somewhere dry though this time," you suggested.

"So, you're not up to go swimming?" he asked jokingly, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, i'd go anywhere with you, but for our first date i'd like to dress up a little," you said. "You know, atleast put a shirt on."

"I'll plan something," he smiled.

☆☆☆

#dae ho imagine #dae ho x reader #squid game imagine #squid game x reader #dae ho squid game #dae ho x you

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 15 hours ago

Note

Current James seducing a younger+naive reader? Lying to her that he’ll pull out but instead filling her up? Of course after a few months she ends up pregnant and she’s scared but that was his plan all along?

A/n: I wrote a good chunk of this story and then my computer glitched and I FUCKING LOST IT I'm losing my mind :D

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, size kink, belly bulge, age gap, breeding kink, mirror sex, dubious consent, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You were part of the crew for the 72 Seasons tour, mostly just running errands for the rest of the crew but occasionally you'd get jobs straight from the band.

James saw you around and thought you were cute, young and innocent, perfect for him, so he made it his mission to talk to you as much as possible; at the airport, on bus rides, backstage, wherever he could find you.

This continued after the tour, he got your number and used it regularly to see how you were doing, inviting you over for dinners, cooking and cleaning while he was on call with you.

It was on one of your dinners that he planned to finish what he'd started.

"Sorry for the late notice, I wasn't planning on dinner." He said to you over the phone, leaning back into the seat of his car as he drove up the highway on one of his drives. "I just had a bad day, you know? Dealing with Lars... I just want to see you, sweetheart." He said, knowing the petname made your knees weak.

"I'll be there soon, Jamie, just let me get ready." You responded, already closing the app you were ordering dinner from.

"I'm sure you'll look pretty no matter what you've got on." He said, grin widening. "Especially if you've got nothing on." Your brain short-circuited at that and he laughed at your silence. "I'll get dinner started before you get here." He ended the call with a dorky kiss, something you were used to from him.

It was late, which was exactly what he wanted. There wasn't a practice, no plans for a new album, there was nothing. James spent all day at home just waiting for the perfect chance to talk to you.

Everything went as usual, you talked and laughed and ate and when it was time to clean the dishes James acted like he hadn't even considered how late it would be when it was time for you to head home.

"Why don't you just stay here?" He offered. "It's too late to drive, just stay the night."

You thought it over in your head, it was late, you didn't feel like driving. You took James up on his offer and let him lead you through the maze of a house he had to a room once you were done with the dishes.

He'd given you a tour of his house before but it was huge and you always got lost, the only rooms you knew were the kitchen, the bathroom nearest to it, and the living room, though you didn't spend much time there. You didn't think twice when James showed you to his room, you didn't know it was his.

The door closed behind him and his lips were on yours in an instant, hands roaming your body, mentally mapping out every curve of your figure while pulling you out of your clothes until you were left in just your underwear in front of him.

He tugged at the lacey band of your panties. "Who were you wearing these for, sweetheart?" He let go of the strap and it snapped back to your skin, making you jump. "Just wanted to feel pretty under your clothes?"

You bit your lip as he spoke to you, looking down at you with a dark lust swirling in his eyes.

Without a response he led you further into the room. You stood in front of the mirrored closet doors, saw how James towered over you, how his hands held your hips. "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart." He leaned down, lips caressing the shell of your ear as he whispered. "And you're gonna watch, and you're gonna love every fucking second of it, isn't that right?"

You nodded, thighs pressing together. "Yes, Jamie, of-of course." He chuckled at your eagerness, the shine in your eyes evident.

"Keep that energy, sweetheart, and I'll give you anything you want." He said as he pulled his shirt over his head. You'd seen him shirtless before, he often showed you his tattoos and muscles, he liked showing off and you indulged his habits.

His jeans followed shortly afterwards and his boxers didn't stay for long. He was eager to be inside you.

He pushed his hard cock against your ass, calloused hands on your waist. "Take them off for me." He said, looking over you in the mirror.

You reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, letting the straps fall limply off your shoulders and to the ground before pushing your panties down to your ankles and kicking them off, leaving you just as naked as he was.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight to him. One arm went over your chest while the other went to your stomach, hand moving lower and his fingers slipped between your folds.

James groaned, feeling how wet you were already. He slipped a finger into you with ease. You gasped as he did so, back arching. "Oh, you're naughty." He said, danger in his voice. "Already played with yourself earlier, didn't you?" You swallowed thickly and gave a small nod. "Just couldn't wait, could you?"

You shook your head. "I-I'm sorry, Jamie, every-every time I come over I have to." You looked at him through the mirror, a pout tugging at your lips as you did. "I just think about you and I-I can't help myself." You rambled, thighs pressing together again around his hand.

"Got yourself all prepped for daddy." He mused, kissing your cheek and moving down to your neck. "Such a good little thing." He pulled his finger out of you and brought his hand to his cock, giving it a few good pumps. "Just stay pretty for daddy while he fucks you, yeah?" You nodded eagerly, pushing your hips back on him.

James pushed his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness before pushing into you and bottoming out with one thrust. You moaned loudly, knees buckling at the stretch but James held you up right.

He brought his hand back to your hip, holding you in place while he gave you time to adjust. "Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned, looking over you in the mirror again, the slight bulge that formed in your stomach from his cock.

He pulled back only to slam back into you, drawing another moan from you. His eyes never left the bump in your gut, watching it come and go with every thrust. His hold on your hips tightened as his thrusts got faster and harsher, all to see you come undone at his hands.

"That's it, sweetheart, don't take your eyes off the mirror." He cooed, resting his chin on your shoulder, guiding your gaze to the mirror in front of you so you could see the way your body jolted with every buck of his hips, the way your face morphed in pleasure. "Such a perfect little thing for daddy." He mused.

You were clenching around his pulsing cock, aching for release. A realization dawned on you and your eyes widened. "Condom!" You said, grabbing at his arm over your chest. "We-we need a-agh, oh god, a-a condom."

James huffed, irritation slipping into his mind at your worry. "Don't worry about that, just relax." He said, lips going back to your neck.

"Jamie, we-we need a condom, what if-!"

"I'll pull out, alright?" He bit, turning your head with his hand so he could shut you up with a kiss. His other hand, the one on your hip, went back to your cunt, this time to rub your clit and snap the knot building in your gut.

You'd been waiting for James since the start of the tour, when he first talked to you. He was much older, you figured it would never happen, he saw you as a daughter that's why he called you sweetheart, why he always tried to cook for you and take care of you, why he wanted you close. That's what you told yourself, there was no way he was into you, it was all in your head.

He was buried deep inside you, groans becoming more frequent as he neared his own high while you rode out your own around his cock. Your eyes were glazed over, lips parted in a soft 'oh', you'd have no idea if he came inside you now.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he came, abdomen tightening with the last few thrusts to push his seed deep in you.

He turned you around, pushing right back into you the second he could to keep his cum in you to marinate. James carried you to the bathroom and set you down on the counter, your legs wrapped around his hips as he used a cloth to wipe you down, using warm water to clean the thin layer of sweat off your body.

It was late, you were tired, your body was tired, you fell asleep in his arms with his cock in you before he even finished cleaning up. It was perfect in his mind, he could carry you to bed and let you fall asleep on of him without worrying about you trying to get off him.

You stuck with him for a while after that, finally getting the relationship you wanted. James let you keep some things at his place, you weren't spending much time at your apartment anymore anyway so most of your clothes ended up there, not that you wore them in the house, usually opting for James's clothes.

James was sitting in bed, going through something on his phone when you hesitantly came out of the bathroom and crawled in next to him.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tighter to his side. "What is it?" He asked, a smile already forming on his face. He knew what you were going to tell him.

Your hand trembled as you handed him a positive pregnancy test.

#metallica rp #metallica fanfiction #80s metal #metallica #metal #metallica smut #metallica imagines #metallica x reader #james hetfield x you #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield

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thefirstknife · 3 days ago

Note

I haven't been able to play the latest update yet so I gotta ask. With all this talk of the winnower, have we found out that its a separate entity to The Witness, or are we just finding out more about how the Witness operated?

It's confirmed now that it is a separate entity! It is identified as a speaker on the seasonal artifact. Like it straight up says "The Winnower" after a quote.

I've always believed them to be separate, my only issue was that we had no solid proof that the Winnower is even a real thing, since the only indications of it were various religious texts and other people's beliefs and unreliable narrators. Even the stuff in Books of Sorrow where something spoke to Oryx, it was really difficult to find genuine proof of what it is. Could've been the Witness adopting a persona to trick Oryx, could've been just various Books of Sorrow lies or unreliable information, could've been Savathun scribbling lies, or something completely different. Books of Sorrow are such an old and biased text in general, with many different narrators.

Unveiling was another contentious text, mostly because of the same things. It was left for us in the Pyramid after we spoke to a clone of ourselves made by the Witness and it was clearly a propaganda text to make us join the Witness, but also it did imply that the text was written by an entity called the "Winnower." However, that could, once again, haven been the Witness. I might still be more in the camp that Unveiling was the Witness' attempt to emulate the higher power it believed in (the Winnower) and using that to sway us to its side, but we don't really know now. The Witness further said (in TFS, largely in the raid) that it believed in the Winnower and considered itself to be its "first knife," but then when we got Nacre, the Winnower (more or less confirmed now) said that it didn't really care for the Witness. Or, at the very least, that the Winnower is not exactly a thing that deliberately sends out others to do its bidding; it kinda relies on people simply choosing to do so by themselves:

This great, beloved cosmos. Always decaying, always finding that same old lovely pattern, despite every candle-flame burning amid the flowers. A billion electrons taking the path of least resistance. In Darkness or in Light, someone is always making my choice. Be seeing you.

An interesting piece of Nacre that caught my eye originally was that the narrator claimed that it "never much cared for the change of the rules," but in Unveiling it very much did. So either Unveiling was written by someone merely interpreting the Winnower who got it wrong, or possibly something else. And one of the lore tabs from the new grimoire (that currently isn't in the game), has this:

The rules changed - a little. The pattern altered - but a micron. I got used to it, as they say. People can get used to anything, and the same holds true for concepts that have existed before and after time itself, though it may take an eon or twenty.

This implies that the Winnower changed its mind which means that Unveiling may still be written by it. Or not! It's intriguing. As I said many times, the unreliability of Unveiling is actually one of my favourite parts of the whole lore book and why it's my fave. I don't think that getting this explained would really "ruin" it or anything, but the unreliability is a part of the charm for sure.

Note also another one of my fave things about the Winnower and that's the bit where it calls itself a "concept that has existed before and after time itself." This, combined with the Heresy artifact, gives us a bit more information to work with while also fully confirming that it exists; even if it exists just as a concept.

But now that the Winnower has been explicitly stated as a speaker in lore without any ambiguity:

"The world is not built on the laws they love… Not with peace, but by victory at any means." —The Winnower

... Now a lot of stuff is much different when discussing it all. I'm actually now more inclined to believe that Oryx spoke to the Winnower then, rather than the Witness, now that we have proof the Winnower can communicate directly and would have an interest in doing so. Obviously the tone of voice of the speaker in Books of Sorrow always matched the Winnower, but it was never outside of the possibility that it was just the Witness mimicking what it essentially viewed as its deity.

At one point, especially after the writers heavily implied that Unveiling was a deliberate propaganda text written and given to us by the Witness, I thought that it was settled and that they decided to consolidate it all with the Witness, including the Books of Sorrow bits, but now that they're expanding it to the Winnower, I do think that Oryx and Unveiling were Winnower; even if the Witness may have been involved somehow, maybe as a delivery mechanism, especially for Unveiling. I like the idea of the Witness having somehow encountered the Winnower at some point, maybe like Oryx, and used that experience to essentially claim to be "the first knife" and write the text for us to make us believe in this philosophy like it was convinced. The Witness definitely believed itself to be important to the Winnower, enacting its will and philosophy across the universe as its "first knife." Even if the Winnower didn't really directly order that or care about it, other than just using it as proof that "someone is always making my choice."

I'm assuming we'll learn more during Heresy. I personally don't want the Winnower to become an enemy we fight one day, as I prefer this idea of an ambiguous observer from outside of the universe who is patiently waiting to see how "the game" unfolds; both "the game" as what it likes to call this version of the universe and also "the game" as in the 4th wall breaking sense. We'll see though! I do think it's settled beyond doubt now that the Winnower is its own thing, we just don't really know what it is. I am very interested to know more about its relationship to the Witness though, if we ever get more on that, because I'd love to hear more about it from the Winnower itself. The Witness was obviously biased and had many claims that I find dubious in nature.

Exciting situation overall! Really loved the proper confirmation for the Winnower being the speaker for the artifact because as much as I was always intrigued by the Winnower, I found it hard to talk about it like it's some confirmed character/entity. Speculation aside, we truly had no solid evidence until now, but now we do and that's really cool.

#destiny 2 #winnower #ask #long post #wondering if we'll get more specifically because we'll be dealing with oryx in heresy #and he may actually be able or willing to clarify for whatever reason #possible also that the winnower may be poking things now that the witness is gone #at least in the sense of looking for whoever will be the next one to 'make its choice'#or just like. being interested in where 'the game' is going next #which would be a fitting wrap on the light and darkness saga before moving on into frontiers

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 15 hours ago

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Does anyone actually say that Ladybug and Adrien are fake somehow?

Yeah, people absolutely have that take. It's what spawned the original post. One too many fics and shipping poles that treated Marinette and Chat Noir as somehow wrong for their crushes. (I apparently read fast. My ML fic's read count is in the thousands at this point. It's enough to let me notice trends that bug me whereas one fic would just be a shrug and move on thing.) On the Adreinette side you get, "Chat Noir is the true Adrien! Civilian Adrien is just a mask! Marinette only loves the fake Adrien so she doesn't deserve him!"

Chat Noir gets less flak, but I've seen it enough to know it's very much a thing. There's a reason Marichat wins out over Ladynoir in almost every poll. If you ever see one, read the comments for the logic and you'll see what I mean. People with this view seem to think things like, "Chat Noir doesn't really love Marinette because Ladybug isn't stuttery and awkward around him! He has to love her when she's a mess!"

This kind of thing is so popular that I had to stop reading fics that paired Marinette with other people because the "Marinette is the true version" thing showed up all the freaking time. So many of these fics felt less like shipping stories and more like Adrien bashing where he was punished for liking Ladybug and not Marinette. It was draining. Even my favorite one has a scene to make sure Adrien feels bad for missing what he could have had and it's a freaking no powers AU!

I actually had a really lovely conversation about this topic when the blog was young because this is one that gets under my skin whenever I come across it and I occasionally need to vent a bit. The kind person who indulged my annoyance straight up said that they used to think that the square "have to fall in love as Marichat bc that's when they can be real with each other." Which was not a stance that was unique to them by any means. They were just validating my first-hand observations of the way SOME people view the ship/characters.

There is a version of the true selves stuff that's genuinely sweet though. It's the version you basically summed up where it's less about these two being the "true" versions and more about Marichat letting the two get to know each other without the pressure of the crushes complicating things. After all, the canon square is only a few hours removed from love at first sight which certainly adds pressure that Marichat removes. The existence of this version that means I don't hate Marichat or even the words "true self", I'm just warry when I see them as I never know what I'm about to see.

While I get why canon's near insta love and subsequent writing issues would draw a person to Marichat, I'll also once again argue that the issue at hand isn't the various ship dynamics, it's canon's writing as the awkward Marichat arc shows. Even though the crushes only flipped after four whole season, canon Marichat doesn't feel any deeper than canon Adrienette or canon Ladynoir. It's played incredibly superficial and doesn't even bother to acknowledge that Chat Noir and Marinette have a functional friendship as established in episodes like Evillustrator, Glaciator, and Glaciator 2. Elation writes Marichat as if they've never interacted before and Chat Noir is just going on a date with a fan he's never officially met. Passion writes Ladynoir as awkwardly as Adrienette always was. Ladybug's months of platonic partnership did nothing to change how she acts when she has a crush or how successful she is at confessing.

In a better show, canon's Marichat arc would be used to set up Adrienette as a more solid couple. Marichat would allow Adrien to see that Marinette loves him even when he's being goofy, but they'd agree to not date because a hero and a civilian dating is too risky. Then Adrienette would happen and, oh look, Adrien can occasionally crack jokes and be silly because he knows Marinette can love him even when he's at his most Chat Noir in addition to being his most Adrien. Marinette is a little surprised, but fine with it. Canon doesn't go there though. As far as the show is concerned, Marichat essentially never happened. It was a one-off fever dream both characters completely forgot. Canon Adrienette has Adrien playing the perfect flawless boyfriend who never annoys Marinette with his jokes.

In summary, that post wasn't about saying that Marichat is bad or unhealthy or that there's no version of the true selves thing that's cute. It was me venting a bit after seeing one too many instances of people acting like Ladrien, Ladynoir, and Adrienette could never be healthy because friends to lovers is some sort of golden standard when it's absolutely not. It's a neutral preference. Each side is fine. What matters is how you write it.

Why the "True Selves" Theory is Insulting

Image for a second that you have a friend who's a bit of a ditz. She's also fun, creative, and sweet. You enjoy being around her, but you've never seen her as more than a friend. Then, one day, a fire breaks out at an event that you and your friend are attending. Your lives are suddenly in mortal peril and the same goes for everyone around you because you can't find the exit. You think that you're going to die.

Then, suddenly, your friend transforms. Not in a magical way, it's just a personality shift, but it might as well be magical because it's like nothing you've ever seen! The ditziness is gone, replaced by laser focus and a take-charge attitude that has everyone following your friend without question. When all is said and done, everyone lives because of you friend. As it turns out, her tendency to get easily distracted means that she's a fantastic in-the-moment problem solver.

Going through that completely changes how you see this girl. You no longer just like her, no, you're now deeply in love with her. You tell a mutual friend about this and they laugh at you, then say, "Don't be silly, that wasn't really her! Her true self isn't that brave girl who saved your life! That was special circumstances that don't count. All that counts is the way she acts when there isn't a crisis going on. It doesn't matter that you've always liked her and enjoyed her company, if you didn't fall in love with based solely on her ditzy self, then you don't really love her."

Most people would call this mutual friend insane because of course going through crazy experiences changes the way we view people! Imagine if you had an allergic reaction and your significant other's reaction was to panic and run away, leaving you to die. You only live because you manage to grab your phone and call '911.' That would understandably lead many people to reassess if this is the person they want to spend their life with just like the opposite experience might make you see a person as a good life partner.

Marinette is Ladybug. She gets full credit for everything she's done in the suit and it's perfectly fine for Adrien to become attracted to her after he sees her in action. It doesn't mean that he only values her Ladybug side. He quite clearly cares for Marinette, he just hasn't seen her in the right light for him to fall in love. (And, if we're being frank, Marinette acts like Ladybug all the time when he's not around or when he is around, but a crisis is going on. She's really not that different from her alter ego.)

Along similar lines, Marinette isn't wrong for being drawn to Adrien's sweeter side more than his over-the-top jokey side. There's a reason why Glaciator ended with her blushing. Compare the end of Glaciator to the end of Origins and, yeah, same energy because - in that moment - Chat Noir was letting his Adrien side out by being more sincere and vulnerable, which are the things that Marinette values most in a romance and the things that he rarely shows while in the mask. It doesn't mean that she hates his jokey side, it's just not going to win her heart when Adrien's right there being sweet and sincere while Chat Noir hides his feelings behind a smile and a laugh.

In fact, it's pretty insulting to Adrien to say that someone shouldn't be attracted to his more vulnerable side. That his sincerity is worth less than his jokes. Almost as insulting as telling Marinette that her Ladybug side doesn't count and she should get no credit for being brave as that's not really her. Loving her only counts if a person falls in love while she's behaving in her most over-the-top, cringe, embarrassing way.

I don't know about you, but I would never want someone to hold me to that standard nor would I hold my significant other to that standard! It's perfectly normal to have things that you don't love about your significant other. In fact, I'd argue that part of the magic of a real, lasting romance is having someone who loves you even though you're not perfect. If you are looking for a partner who never annoys you or does something wrong, then you will never find happiness because that person does not exist.

Now that I've said all of that, I want to add that I do think that marichat, "love both sides" stories can be cute. It's just not One True Path to Real Love. It's totally fine if the square starts dating based on the things that they find attractive about each other and then just continue to be in love as they learn about the other side. If anything, that's normal. Learning about a person is what dating is all about! A good relationship is no different than a good friendship, you just get some bonus perks if you're into that kind of thing.

I'll also note that I'm not criticizing stories where Marinette feels like she's the "real" version and Ladybug is the fake because that's a really understandable thing to be nervous about. Tikki saying that shit? Hard no. Terrible mentoring.

#marinette deserves better #adrien deserves better #the square deserves to be cute and fun

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vanillebunny · 21 hours ago

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hellooo!! can u pls write for steve harrington?? i'm thinking where he got with reader as a rebound for nancy but then he realizes its much more than that but by the time he does you already realized and left like an angsty thing

warnings: i think none? but please tell me if there are.

you've always known steve harrington, ever since you were a kid. steve 'the hair' harrington, king of hawkins, ladies man--as everyone thought. to you though, he was just steve, the neighbor next door.

being neighbors with steve wasn't always easy, or quiet even. from the constant parties to the endless nights with every woman in hawkins. you'd be a lucky if you got a good nights sleep for once. your mom didn't really hear it much, not like she was ever home to.

if there was one thing you had in common with steve, it was the lack of life in your house. only for steve, he was always replacing it with having someone over whenever he possibly can, while you just stayed home alone.

not like you were never invited, it was kind of a given since you'd know about it anyway, might as well be invited. but you never came. not like it mattered. but after some time, the parties...stopped. everything became calm, and steve was like...not a douchebag anymore. everyone said it was cause of nancy wheeler, the princess. she was perfect. not a single flaw to her

you'd always see her come around, she was pretty. you couldn't lie. but damn did something about her rub you the wrong way. it was always like this, up until you knew about the big breakup

you were home as usual, and had taken your walkman to go walk at night like you usually did, but when you left your house, you saw steve on your porch, sitting silently. it didn't even seem like he was coming to talk or something, he just sat there for no reason.

"i think you got it mixed up" you spoke up, going down a few steps to where he was sitting, "your house is next door, not here" you say with furrowed eyebrows. but he didn't even look at you, he was just sat there.

"you probably already heard." he says and just keeps looking ahead, "nancy left me"

you in fact did not hear. "oh." was all that came out of you, you sigh and just sit beside him, placing the walkman beside you. "thats...weird. why? i thought you two were happy" you say and he just scoffs

"bullshit, apparently. all of it. should've known...im an idiot. girl like her, as if that would last" he mutters, more to himself than you

"hey, what?" you say, shaking your head quickly, "that's so wrong, steve. like--very wrong. you're a great guy, steve. i mean like...now--you became a great guy. and if she didn't see that and thought it's all bullshit then she's not worth it" you say, and he--finally looks at you.

"you really think so?" he asks, and you hesitate for a moment, before nodding.

"yeah, of course steve" you say, it was quiet for a while, the two of you just looking around, up until you got up and went back inside. he sighs to himself, thinking you left, until you came back with a pair of headphones. you sat back down beside him and grabbed the walkman again, plugging in a second pair of headphones, you hand him it.

he looks at you, hesitating for a moment before taking it, the two of you sat there quietly just listening to music. it was the very first time you two had even had a proper conversation--or even interaction together ever since you were kids.

ever since then, you two were always stopping by each others houses--even driving home or to school since you were both heading the same way. you got close quickly, and as much as you didnt expect it, you genuinely really liked it

you knew he changed, but you thought it was just a look. but he actually did, he was funny, really considerate and nice. you found yourself...actually feeling things for him. you always brushed it off, but to your luck, steve was a very expressive person, so he made sure to let you know he liked you back

it was all great, you didn't feel so lonely anymore. and you two were just...such a good pair. some would say even better than nancy. and you liked to think so too, until one day, you were heading to the basketball court to go see your boyfriend as usual. until you overheard tommy h and a few other guys talking to themselves, steve must've been in the locker room or something.

"how the hell are harrington and that girl together, i mean i don't get it--he and miss perfect break up, and he's already with the next girl? i don't buy it." tommy says, and one of them chimes in

"my girl says they love each other, it's total bull. we all know the real reason harrington's with her, she's a rebound. i mean--how do you get over a girl like nancy? you got a have at least a few replacements before finally moving on"

what? replacements? no--that's not right. you're sure steve likes you, genuinely likes you...right? it's not true, he's not that kind of guy. he wouldn't be using you like that, right?

you shake your head and quickly storm off, tears brewing in your eyes. you've been alone for so long, maybe you just didn't notice how he was using you? maybe you just jumped at the first chance to be with someone, so desperate?

that same day, steve was knocking and knocking on your door, when you didn't answer, he sighed and sat on the porch. for hours. waiting and waiting.

"baby i know something's wrong...please talk to me. don't...don't do this." he says as he knocks on your door one more time. he hears footsteps coming from the road, he quickly steps down the porch and rushes to the footsteps, hoping it was you.

he slows down as he sees nancy there. he furrows his eyebrows. what the hell was she doing here?

"what do you want?" he says and she just looks at him

"steve let's talk..." she says and he quickly shakes his head

"no...no absolutely not. i don't wanna have anything to do with you, don't you understand that nancy?" he says, while he's talking, you were opening the front door since you thought it's been too long.

to his luck, you were just behind him when he was talking to nancy.

"fine, fine you're right okay? i did get with her as a rebound...to--to forget you. is that what you wanted to hear?" he says and everything else quiets down in your head, they were right. they were all right. he doesn't like you, love you. he never did. how could he? you slowly walk away, your eyes distant and your face paling. how could you be so stupid to think something could ever work out for you?

but while you were lost in your own head, steve was still talking to nancy.

"but it's not like that anymore. don't you get that? i don't love you anymore, i don't even want to see your face. i wake up in the morning and the first thing i want to do is see her, she's so much better than you could ever be. i don't need you anymore, alright? you have to go nancy" he says and shakes his head, walking back to your front door, completely ignoring nancy's pleading for him to hear her out

"baby? you in there? please come out and talk to me" he sighs as he knocks on your door, but you were already gone. you had gone through the backdoor, he was gonna use you to forget some girl? you'll do worse. you were already on your way to the trailer park, tears in your eyes. you wanted to hurt him just like he hurt you, and what other way to do that other than be with the guy he hates more than anything?

a/n: hey guys i think this mightve been my worst work yet but ummm im posting it anyway, also i wanted to make it more sad but then it kind of turned into a revenge thing so idk, hope u enjoy thoo! <333

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #bunnywrites<3 #eddie munson

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dervampireprince · 3 days ago

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i feel like how i think about and characterise lucifer in sexual scenarios it so different from most of the fandom. and that's okay, honestly it's interesting to me to see people interpret a character in different ways, but if you don't like thinking about lucifer romance or redemption arcs then this post isn't for you.

[18+ only, minors dni]

thoughts about lucifer x gender neutral-ish reader thoughts. (reader is describes as having a clit and vagina, this is post is written by a trans man)

so i'm talking about a lucifer who has lost, i think he has to lose and fail at the apocalypse in season 5, he has to be shown he can be overpowered, he has to be shown that his father's plans and prophecies can be changed and are actually just bullshit. so this is a lucifer who still failed in season 5, and gets freed from the cage like in season 11, still using nick's body.

and i like to lean into lucifer's inhuman-ness and trauma because i find that interesting and is that because i can relate to parts of him... yeah sure of course.

i see a lot of interpretations of him where he's written as having had a lot of sex, of having a lot of casual sex with you before any feelings take place, of being crass and crude and and i just... i don't think he's ever had sex. i think he's disgusted by humans and that includes the things they do with each other.

i think he has to fall for you first (poor choice of words, i know).

i think you have to be at least a little nice to him. not naive, you know what he is, who he is and what he's done, but if he's here you're at least going to talk to him, not avoid him, not yell at him every conversation. and he's never really just sat down and talked with someone in a long time.

of course he'll tease you, and he'll try and push your buttons and make you hate him, people are supposed to hate him, you're supposed to hate him, why don't you hate him?

and he hates that he likes spending time with you. he doesn't want to need or want anyone, but of course he craves it. that desire to rule and be worshipped is just his desire to be loved, a craving for what he once had but was ripped from him.

you find yourself enjoying spending time with him, teasing him back, even standing up for him when he does actually keep his word. and it surprises him.

you tell him he can be anything he wants, that he doesn't have to be defined by his past and certainly not what his father says he is. screw the idea of fate and destiny. who are you lucifer? who do you want to be? and he doesn't really know anymore. he doesn't really want to end the world, hasn't for a while now. but he doesn't know what else he could be if he casts aside all the labels he's gained.

he couldn't ever make the first move, if he realises he loves you. and he could love you. you're so warm and full of light, everything that he used to be but isn't anymore. but his grace sings for you. you make him feel like he actually could change, that it could be worth it to change.

and he wouldn't be good on dates. he wouldn't buy you gifts, wouldn't know what a human would want anyway. it's not easy to have him be in public, he's too agitated, too ready to be snarky to anyone walking past, too ready to complain about everything. but let him? be patient with him, let him complain, join in with him, ask him his opinions on things, let him figure out how to be himself and show him he's not gonna put you off.

you would have to make the first move. and if you told him you loved him, he would panic. perhaps even teleport straight out of there. but he'd come back. you deserve that at least. and you'd tell him again. you'd let yourself be alone with him. give some trust to him, let him have you.

he'd be so touch starved. even in this stupid human body, he would shiver if you touched him. ask if he can touch you, if you'd let him, ever checking for your consent. and all those stupid human activities he never understood the want for, he craves them now.

he love kissing you, could get addicted too it, how you gasp and cling to him. sadly he normally forgets you also need to breathe. the first time he realises he can slide his tongue into your mouth and the sound you make is going to stay with him. he's going to replay that in his mind. or even better, he'll figure out how to get you to make that sound again.

he doesn't take sex lightly. he wants to make you feel good. he wants to learn what you like, where your most sensitive spots are, and prod them until you see stars. he's not experienced, but a fast learner, and more than willing to try out whatever ideas of kinks you have. he's actually excited at the idea of learning more about you, getting to do more things with you. for all his lack of experience, he's smug, he knows when he's made you feel good.

he's so good with his mouth. eating you out like he's worshipping you. lapping at your clit, forked tongue twisted around it, almost as if it's trying to jerk you off.

telling you how pretty you are, how well you take his fingers, then his cock. amazed that you're letting him do this. amazed at how much he likes it, how good it feels. how you've finally let him inside you.

it feels good everywhere you touch him. before you touch his cock he's already dripping just from your hands on his face, his neck, running down his sides. he's so needy and eager.

if you can see and touch his wings... well... he can't bear to let you see them at first. they're not going to be like whatever you've pictured. he's fell. and then he was in the cage, burning, in pain, for so long. but they're part of him and you tell him you'll love every part of him. his wings are scarred, once white now charred black and red in most places, and they clearly haven't been loved in a long time.

you're gentle with him, straightening feathers, removing debris, and he's shaking. shaking and panting by the end, hiding his face from you. you're worried you've hurt him once you notice he's been crying, but you haven't. he's overwhelmed by now long it's been since anyone touched them, how wonderful it feels to have someone touch them. you assure him that they're beautiful, that he's beautiful, you're angel, that despite how much he thinks he has dimmed that he still shines brightly to you.

he warps them around you like a cocoon the first time you have sex with his wings out, wants to keep you safe in them, not let anyone or anything hurt you. (he's always worried that he'll be the one to hurt you, even though he never wants too). if you tell him you love him during sex, if you intertwine your fingers with his, it makes him come faster and harder but he'll never tell you that.

with more experience, and the power of searching the internet, comes more adventurous encounters. he learns what he likes. and what he likes is: overstimulating you, making you come over and over again, he just wants to make you feel good, won't like let him make you feel good? especially overstimulating you with his mouth. his ego is still always there, tell him no one else could please him like you, no one could ever make you feel this good, praise him, call him beautiful, tell him he's good, tell him he fills you so well, that he fits perfectly inside you, call him your king or god and he might just come on the spot. honestly just say his name, or moan it, and that does a lot to him. love being deep inside you, legs over his shoulders, or pressing you deep into the bed from behind. he'd enjoying tying you up, the trust that comes with that, letting him touch you and use you (same goes for if you tell him you want him too fuck you in your sleep or fall asleep with him inside you). perhaps being slightly risky, having you in the bunker while others are around, teasing you that you have to keep quiet otherwise you'll be heard, 'so needy for me, couldn't even wait until everyone was gone to have me'. surprisingly, likes it when you mark him. he's as much yours as you are his, it makes him reassured that he's wanted.

but i'm just a soft boy who likes the idea of someone who's been hurt learning to let people love them and be able to love others idk maybe you think this is all super out of character for him and that's okay. it's all just my opinions and headcannons on a fictional character.

#being into spn on and off for 10 years doesnt make it less scary to be a lucifer fan #i constantly worry i'm gonna get so much hate for liking him and its not that deep i was 12 and lonely and depressed #and have family issues and i saw him and was liek yes we can understand things about each other and he helped me feel less alone #ofc that doesnt mean i think his actions are good omg hes not real #spn lucifer #supernatural lucifer #lucifer #lucifer x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x reader #lucifer spn #imagine #imagines #headcannons #samifer #the vampire writes

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