#he's asked who he could fight and responds with

[buckysfaveplum]

her weakness

summary: you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: violence, blood, fighting, it’s a fight seen so yea expect things relating to that

a/n: i rewatched tfatws and this fight always makes me so worried for my bbs so yea this was born. I typed it up helllllla quick so I'm sorry if its trash, I'm not too proud of this one idk.

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Your feet followed closely behind Bucky as you approached the warehouse. Your limbs were stiff and your skin clammy. Your hand stayed firmly in Bucky’s grasp as you approached John Walker. Sam had tracked him to a storage warehouse near the square you had just witnessed brutality in.

He murdered him, in cold blood, with Steve’s shield. You couldn’t get the screams of the public out of your head, the sound of the vibranium as it slashed into the flagsmasher’s body. You would’ve thrown up if Bucky hadn’t pushed you behind him. You had seen much worse, much more gruesome violence in your line of work. But something about this was sickening, rotting away in your stomach as you tried to grapple with the truth that the shield your friend once carried with honor and pride was just used by an unhinged soldier who found joy in the worst parts of the job.

Bucky stayed ahead of you, following Sam as they entered the building. Your hand trembled in his vibranium grasp. His thumb gently brushed across the veins and bones of your hand, trying to bring you comfort before the scene he knew was about to play out.

As you walked into the large space, you saw him. He was too composed and stoic for what had just taken place. His tall and slender figure loomed as he casually walked up to you all, barely acknowledging Sam as he tried to get him to listen.

“Walker,” Sam started. The soldier brushed Sam’s stern tone off, hopefully delaying what he knew was coming.

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” He said, walking past you.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam took a few steps closer, trying again to get him to focus.

Your jaw tightened as you watched the man pace erratically in front of you. He was muttering quietly before responding as if trying to convince himself what he was saying had any truth.

“What?” He asked, coming closer. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do.”

Your grip on Bucky tightened, sensing Walker’s anger began to boil over. You knew a fight was coming, it always was. 

“I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!” Walker shouted, his arms waving now and revealing how off the deep end he had gone. 

You knew the moment you saw him in that fight. He stole the serum and took it for himself. This behavior just confirmed it. But the serum only enhanced what was already bubbling under the surface. The same John you meet on the highway. The same John who waltzed into the police station as if he had the authority or right to control Bucky and call him an ‘asset’. It was always there. 

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”

Bucky’s smooth and deep voice cut through the tension in the room. You felt his grip on your hand squeeze for a moment, making sure you were okay. He could always sense your anxiety in the field. Your powers made keeping your calm difficult. You would never use them in battle unless your opponent was enhanced as well. You were a skilled fighter and agent, you didn’t need them. And it didn’t always seem ethical. But keeping them at bay, in check, could prove difficult- especially in heightened situations such as this.

Walker scoffed at Bucky’s words, dismissing the truth like it was nothing.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well,” Bucky said.

“I’m not like you!” Walker’s voice was full of disgust and resentment. From the moment you met him, you could sense his quiet disdain for your best friend. Looking down his nose at him like he was some scum left over from Steve's life, something he’d always have to deal with. Yet at the same time, resentment. Jealousy over his power, control, and abilities in his enhanced body. As if that’s what made him an excellent fighter. Or a good person.

Your spare hand moved between Bucky’s shoulder blades, giving him a subtle and quiet support as you prepared.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle, okay?” Sam said, taking a step closer to Walker. That shield danced in your vision, taunting you as he paced back and forth. “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.”

Walker’s distress spread across his face, his brows furrowing and eyes scrunching as he tussled with Sam’s words.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Sam said.

The warehouse went silent as Walker stared at the ground before him. Bucky gave you a soft, tight-lipped smile before begrudgingly dropping your hand. He slowly took a step towards the man, joining Sam.

“John…” Bucky said, calmly. 

“You gotta give me the shield, man,” Sam said.

That did it. You could feel the room shift that second.

A disturbing serene aura washed over Walker at that moment. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to you all. His eyes were dark, lacking a certain warmth and compassion you had grown so used to seeing through that blue cowl. A certain warmth that left when he hung up the shield.

“Oh…. so that’s what this is,” Walker said. “You almost got me.”

You could see his grip on the shield tighten, the leather straps twisting between his fingers.

“You made a mistake,” Sam said.

You slowly took a step forward, your hands flexing as you prepared for what was to come. Walker finally turned his gaze to you. His eyes roamed you up and down. You could’ve sworn you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, that familiar muscle tightening in distress. Walker smirked at you before glancing at Bucky. He could read the protectiveness radiating off of your supersoldier.

“You don’t wanna do this,” Walker said to him.

Bucky didn’t meet his gaze. His fists balled at his side, practically shaking with anger. He never took pleasure in a fight, every punch or kick felt like a necessity rather than enjoyment. But he couldn’t deny how much he desired to rip that shield from his grimy hands.

“Yeah we do,” Bucky said.

Sam lurched forward first, Bucky soon following suit. Your feet moved quickly, moving behind Walker as your friends attacked from the front. The man moved with a speed you had yet to see from him, a brute force you could only get from the serum.

With a harsh kick, Walker sent Sam flying away, leaving you and Bucky alone. You tried to knock Walker down from the back as Bucky grappled with the shield. As you sent a harsh kick into the back of Walker’s knees, he spun quickly and sent a jab into Bucky’s gut sending him backward in pain and knocking him off balance. Before you could back him up, Walker slammed a harsh punch into Bucky’s jaw. Your heart raced and your hands shook as you watched him drop to the ground. You sprung into action, pulling the shield back in your hands and keeping Walker from smashing it into Bucky’s face. Sam leaped in, kicking the shield up and drawing attention to him.

You slammed a kick into Walker’s back, sending him stumbling forward as Sam slashed at him with his wings. Bucky leaped up, his arm aiming to come down on the faux Captain America’s back hard but was ultimately blocked by the shield. 

You were growing frustrated. Walker never packed this much of a punch. The serum raged through his veins, lacing each kick and swing of the shield with force and hate. As you and Sam continued to trade blocks at Walker, Bucky attempted to pull him down but was quickly met with the shield swinging into the side of his face. Your legs shook. The longer this dragged out the more difficult you find keeping your emotions in check. The longer you watched your favorite person in the world become decorated with blood and bruises, the more your ethical code began to look like a suggestion. Walker deserved a swift blast to the face and more. But you held off. 

Walker slammed the shield into Sam’s back, sending him down. As your two friends recovered briefly, it was just you and him. You surged forward at the man, dodging as he swung at you. Being smaller than the two Avengers alongside you made it much easier to evade Walker’s sloppy attacks. You sent a firm kick into his chest followed by an uppercut into his chin. As he spun and tumbled, Bucky was back on his feet and meeting Walker with punches. Bucky’s attacks quickly led the pair into a tight spot, backing Walker up into a heavy piece of machinery. The pair spun in circles over the shield, yanking the vibranium disc back and forth and trading beatings in between. Sam quickly followed you over, diving in for aid, but quickly was sent flying back by Walker’s attacks. His body slammed to the ground with a grunt.

While Bucky worked, you glanced at Sam. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, preparing to dive back into the fight. In your moment of distraction, the fear and care for your dear friend overriding your common sense to keep fighting, you heard Walker’s voice pull you back. Bucky was trapped between the shield and a machine. You rushed over to help but it was far too late.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Before you could register what Walker was saying, you watched as Bucky went flying. 

Walker’s forceful swing of the shield sent him hurtling across the warehouse. Your body froze as if someone had filled your veins with cement. The dramatic scene Walker had created came to an end with Bucky’s body smashing into an electrified pole and crashing to the ground. The might of his impact snapped the pole in the middle, sparks cascaded from the steel and flooded onto the floors; leading your eyes to Bucky. 

“Bucky!” You screamed.

His body lay limp and splayed out on the cold dirty floors. His face was smushed into the cement. His limbs didn’t dare to move. Except for his vibranium arm, which twitched and spasmed under his body; blue and white sparks burst out from the plates adding to the horror.

Your breaths were heavy and shaky, your hands trembled at your sides as the vibrating blue of your powers began to spark at your fingertips; mirroring the sight of your best friend’s arm. The room was spinning, at least that’s what made sense to you. Your balance was unstable, your knees threatening to buckle at any moment. You turned to spare a look at Sam, begging him for permission. But he was already back on his feet and rushing towards Walker. 

“Go!” He shouted.

You had never been faster. Your abilities never gave you the gift of flight but in that moment they very well could have. Your legs became weak and your steps messy as you neared Bucky. You crashed to your knees beside him, pain radiated up your thighs from the impact but you couldn’t care. It couldn’t be worse than the expanding tight pain in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

Your hands quivered as they hovered over his body. With him lying so still you could finally take in the damage Walker had done to his face. Blood was splattered all over, deep purple and blue hues bloomed across his cheekbones, and a nasty split had opened on his lip. Worst of all, his nose was broken.

The sparks continued to burst from the plates of his arm, his hand jerking and spasming with an unsettling sound of grinding metal. Quickly, you placed your hands firmly on the vibranium. A deep blue beamed from under your palms, cascading the metallic golds and blacks of his arm in your glow. The excess electricity from the crash moved in waves through the arm up into your hands. You focused as all the veins in your body became electrified, an aqua glow shone through your skin as the energy you. Your once y/e/c eyes were quickly overtaken, the cool energy overriding your iris’ and leaving an intense indigo shine. With a sharp gasp and breath, you let go. His arm had stopped moving, now lying as still and motionless as he did. 

“Bucky,” you said, giving his damaged body a soft shake. “Bucky, wake up.”

He didn’t move, his face slack and limps heavy as you struggled to turn him to his back and off of his arm. Your hands rushed to his face, cupping his cheeks and holding him close as if you could shield him from more of John Walker’s savagery. If someone had the power to take your abilities and trade them for the ability to heal, you’d offer them anything they wished just for the potential to spare Bucky from his pain even for a moment. 

“Buck… come on wake up,” the fresh blood from his injuries spilled into your fingertips, the crimson caked into your cuticles and threatened not to leave.

“Plum, please,” His body twitched; your lungs finally filled with air. 

His breaths were labored but there, his chest rattled as he sucked in much-needed air. Your fingers moved to his neck, their shuddering finally stilling as you felt his pulse return to a firm and strong pattern.

The sounds of Sam’s grunts and Walker’s cries swiftly pulled your attention back to your friend. He was up in the air, a long metal cord pulling on the shield and attempting to free it from Walker’s venomous grasp. To no avail, as soon Sam was flung back to the floor and across the room. The shield clattered to the ground, equally laid between the two men. The smug and determined look on Walker’s face enraged you, the blue glow returning to your eyes. Sam glanced over at you before rushing for the shield. He needed you.

You turned back to Bucky, still unresponsive to your touches and voice. He was breathing, his pulse steady. Taking in the broken state of his body, his face battered and bloodied, you couldn’t hold back your rage any longer.

It was as if something had possessed you. Gently, you laid Bucky back to the ground, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, your voice monotone yet determined. The expressions of concern, fear, and horror that had played upon your face just moments ago were now gone. You were cold and still, as you rose to your feet and walked over to the two men fighting behind you.

Before Walker could grab the shield, a harsh blast of blue energy sent him flying back in the opposite direction. The man was studded, confused by how he could have been knocked down. He looked up to see you rushing towards him. You were steady in your movement, not running but with each step winding up for the next blow. Your hands were baked in a fierce glow of aqua as you channeled more energy through your fingertips. 

Walker scrambled to his feet, preparing for the offense. Before he could even take a step he was back on the ground with another blast from you. A loud cry fell from your lips as you slammed him down with force from your power. As you ran up to Walker, he quickly sent a firm hit to your jaw. You stumbled back, regaining your vision to see him coming at you. You jumped up, knees to your chest and feet pressing on his as you blasted him once again. 

He was on the ground with you towering over him. His face was coated in shades of black and blue, mirroring the face you were trembling over just seconds ago. Good, he deserved that and more.

You blasted him again as he struggled to crawl away. You followed him, hot on his trail as energy overflowed from your hands. The shield was long forgotten by you, only driven by your need for revenge. Bucky couldn’t even answer you, couldn’t move. He needed to pay.

Walker’s body slammed back into machinery as you surged more energy at him. He was done, hands shaking above him as he prepared for your next blow.

“We’re better than this right? Captain America doesn’t do this,” Walker said through his split lip and shaking jaw.

You scoffed; if only he had thought that way an hour ago. You wouldn’t be here. Bucky would be okay.

“Good thing I’m not Captain America,” you said. Walker shielded his face as you wound up your aim. Energy radiated from your fist up your forearm as you pulled it back to deliver one last shot.

“Y/n, stop!” Sam shouted.

Your blast was halted by a firm hand on your upper arm. You recognized the stillness and coolness that held onto your body. Turning you saw Bucky behind you. He was shaking as he stood, breaths labored and heavy, but there he was. Sam ran up behind the two of you, shield in hand as he looked at you. But all you could focus on was Bucky.

Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head softly as he lowered your arm. 

“This isn’t you, you don’t do this,” he said. Your nostrils flared as you breathed heavily, struggling to reel your rage back in. You glanced back at Walker who lay on the ground, glaring at you smugly. Your eyes shone brighter, your fists clenching as the glow intensified. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking your face and turning you to look back at him. “You’re not him.”

The energy overtaking your body began to fade as you relaxed under his firm touch. The uncontrollable blue glow began to fade back into your body, leaving you panting as you tried to calm your emotions. Bucky stood before you, vibranium hand stroking your own.

“You’re okay,” you said.

“I’m okay. Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s over,” he said, pulling you away from the scene you had created. He walked you slowly back towards Sam, you shook in his grasp. Walker struggled to stand as he watched the three of you leave. The shield taunted him as it hung off of Sam’s arm, finally back with its true owner. The Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking at Sam. “I just….” you glanced at Bucky, once again seeing the battering of his beautiful face. Your throat swelled as you lost your words, choking on your fear.

“We got it back,” Sam said, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the building. His limp as he walked didn’t escape you.

Bucky gripped your hand tightly, pulling you with him as he walked. He didn’t make it far before his knees began to buckle, his body slipping as he fell. You were at his side in a heartbeat, arm hauling him back up beside you; refusing to let his body crash to the filthy ground again. 

“Hey, hold onto me,” you said. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and his other gripped at your waist as you began to pull him from the warehouse, his feet limping and tripping as he struggled to walk. Walker’s body began to fade in the distance as you left.

“Why did you do that, doll?” Bucky asked as you walked, his voice slurred and low. Each wince and suck of breath stabbed at your side like a pecking bird, refusing to let your wound heal. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never done that. I….” you paused, stopping your feet as you gave him a moment to catch his breath. “When I saw you hit that pole, I lost it.”

“I’m okay, Y/n,” he said, yet his words seemed to hold no weight as he struggled to stay upright at your side.

“Your arm was sparking, Bucky. You weren’t moving. I-I thought that you…” You couldn’t finish, gripping him tighter as your voice shook. As if letting him go would give the world a chance to tear him from you once again. Your fingertips dug into his tact suit, determined to embed yourself in him.

“Hey, babydoll,” he said, hoisting himself up just enough to take your face in his hands. He swayed on his feet as he stood, intent on holding you close as he spoke. Your hands held him steady at his side.

“I’m here, I’ll always be here. But no matter what happens to me, I don’t want you to lose yourself,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I can’t have that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you said.

“You won’t. I’m right here, I’m always coming back to you.”

You nodded softly as you rested your head on his chest. His hands moved to your hair as he held you close. Your hands wound around his center, keeping him safe in your arms. As long as you were around, no one would take him.

“You’re so good, you’re so special, Y/n. You need to be strong, even if I get hurt. You can’t drop your morals for me. They mean too much to you,” he said.

“I think you may be my weakness,” you said, your voice muffled in his chest. He tucked himself closer into you at your words, his head resting upon yours. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“You’ve always been mine,” he said softly.

---

taglist:

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[evilmenenjoyer]

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true. 

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm. 

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position.  “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

[zephyrchama]

(Based on that one scene from B99)

“Lucifer, your wrist looks kind of funny.”

All eyes turned to the Avatar of Pride when Leviathan pointed this out. They were supposed to be organizing the house library, but it was a long and boring task. One that everyone wanted to finish quickly, yet nobody could find the motivation to make any real progress.

“Oh no! What happened?” Asmodeus leaned over a table to try and steal a peek. Lucifer’s wrist was, indeed, bent in an odd manner. He used his non-dominant hand to shuffle some papers in order.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, Asmo!” Mammon jeered. “Back off, leave the guy alone.”

Lucifer ignored his brothers, icy gaze focused on the documents in hand. They were papers that had been misfiled and did not belong in the library. He reminded everyone in the room to “behave yourselves” before disappearing into his office.

Curious eyes followed him until he was truly out of sight. Then, the brothers exchanged fascinated looks. It’s not every day that Lucifer get injured.

“Alright, everybody bring it in. Huddle up.” Mammon ushered everyone to come close with a sweep of his hand. The boys reluctantly formed a loose circle.

“What are you up to now?” Belphegor asked with a sigh. “I want to finish this already.”

Mammon pretended not to hear as he whisper-shouted, “so, he wouldn’t say what happened, which can only mean one thing.”

”He’s in a fight club,” Beelzebub suggested.

“No. He did it doing something he’s embarrassed by.” Satan was quick to catch on to the truth.

Beelzebub followed up with, “oh. Could be a sports injury. I sprained my wrist playing fangol last year.”

“Really? I don’t remember that,” Belphegor said.

Leviathan asked, “you think Lucifer was playing fangol?”

A deep growl suddenly came from the doorway. There was no warning or indication that Lucifer would be back so quickly. Yet, the man in question had returned. His menacing quickly caused the group to shut up.

“I can hear you speculating about the nature and origin of my injury from my office, but I don’t think it’s relevant to your jobs. The jobs you should all be doing right now. Get to work.”

The brothers scattered like roaches back to their respective corners of the library. All except for Satan, who Lucifer beckoned over with his finger. Satan hesitated at first, but it was better to go along with Lucifer when his mood was sour. The two stepped out for a minute, far enough away that no one else would overhear.

“What?” Satan was fed up with this conversation and it hadn’t even started.

“Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Satan’s eyebrows flew up and he took several seconds to think about the question. What an odd offer. There was nothing for Lucifer to gain by telling him this, was there? Though, if he spent too long thinking Lucifer might change his mind and leave his little brother wondering what happened forever. With an oddly docile tone of voice, Satan responded, “...Yes.”

While Satan was busy wondering how to respond, Lucifer had taken out his DDD. He was scrolling through a menu in search of something. “I was hula hooping. Diavolo and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.”

“No way.” Satan's true thoughts leaked out. It was so dumb, it couldn’t be true.

Lucifer raised his phone to Satan’s eye level. The proof was there. ”I’ve mastered all the moves. The pizza toss. The tornado. The scorpion, the oopsie doodle.”

With each and every silly name, Lucifer swiped to a new photo on his phone. There he was, doing the pizza toss. Showing Diavolo how to do the scorpion. Performing a flawless oopsie doodle. Satan was stupefied, his mouth ajar.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because no one…” Lucifer selected all of the images. He tapped on a trash can in the corner of the screen. The images, every last one, disappeared. “…will ever believe you.”

“No!” Satan lunged for the phone in vain. “You sick, twisted, son of a-”

“You got your answer," Lucifer told him. "Get back to work."

[eufezco]

TOLERATE IT 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

oldman!logan x fem!reader

synopsis – the struggles with the growing distance between you and logan and holding on to a man who has already let go.

a/n – kinda inspired by tolerate it by taylor swift.

angst.

logan was late again, though you’d stopped watching the clock weeks ago. time became meaningless when each hour felt like a reminder of how far apart the two of you had grown. he was late and you thought you preferred it this way, because when he was home, it was worse.

when he was home, he didn’t look at you, like you weren’t even there. he didn’t talk to you, offering only brief replies or silence. the man who once made you feel seen, known, and loved was now a shadow. at least when he was gone, you didn’t have to feel the sting of being invisible in your own home.

the sound of the front door opening startled you from your thoughts.

you'd been cooking dinner for him, if you stayed busy, maybe you could ignore the ache in your chest, the endless questions you no longer dared to ask. his heavy steps echoed down the hall, the unmistakable smell of alcohol followed him into the room like an unwelcome guest.

you turned toward the hall, his eyes, bloodshot, avoided yours.

—hey, —you said softly, your voice tentative.

he didn’t answer, just grunted as he moved past you and toward the chair where he always dropped his jacket.

—i've cooked you dinner, —you tried again, forcing a smile.

—not hungry.

the smile disapeared , your lips trembling slightly as you looked at him. —logan, you’ve barely eaten anything lately, —you said, your voice quieter.

—i said i’m not hungry, —he repeated, the irritation in his voice unmistakable. he didn’t even turn to face you, his focus already on loosening his tie.

you stood there for a moment, clutching the edge of the plate, so hard that you thought it would break under your fingers. the meal you’d poured so much effort into, the carefully laid table—it all felt pointless, like shouting into a void. you opened your mouth to respond, to say anything but your eyes caught on the smudge of red on the collar of his shirt. the words died on your lips, and your stomach twisted as realization hit. lipstick.

—logan? —you said, barely above a whisper.

he followed your line of sight, his expression hardening when he saw what had caught your attention. —don’t start, —he said, his voice low and warning.

—don’t start? —you repeated in disbelief. —logan, there’s lipstick on your collar. you—

—i don’t want to do this right now, —he interrupted, his voice rising slightly, frustration etched into every word.

—but... —you tried again. then you noticed how his hair was more disheveled than usual, how some buttons on his shirt were undone. ever since things started to go wrong with logan, you always had a sneaking suspicion that he was seeing other women. most of the times you didn't say anything, not because you didn’t care, but because the thought of confronting him felt more terrifying than the suspicion itself. you had convinced yourself that if this was the price you had to pay to keep him by your side, you would pay it.

but when you confronted him, he’d deny it—nothing was going on. you wanted to believe him, you tried to believe him. but you knew that something was off. there were things you couldn’t ignore and that he didn't care enough to hide, like the way he would smell different when he came home some nights—like someone else’s perfume clung to his shirt.

—i came from work fucking tired and you are trying to start a fight! these things—these things you do are what makes it so goddamn exhausting to be near you.

you didn’t just drop the plate on the floor, you smashed it. the plate carefully prepared, a gesture of love but now, just like everything else, it was broken beyond repair. without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the space between you and him, your breath coming hard and fast, your fist tight with anger.

his expression was unreadable at first, a flicker of annoyance clouding his features, but beneath it, there was something else—something like intrigue, as if he was daring you to keep going, to show him just how much he had hurt you. your pressed your finger against his chest, steady and defying.

—you don’t deserve a fucking thing I gave you, —you spat, your voice laced with fury that you had been keeping to yourself for far too long. his lips parted as if to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. —what a shame that this mutation of yours is taking so long to kill you and that i have to be the one to suffer all the shit you are rotting in.

silence settled between you after those words. for a few seconds, you both just stood there, locked in each other’s gaze. his eyes were hard, unreadable, and you couldn't see anything shifting. no sign of regret, no sign of guilt.

—are you done? —he said finally, his tone flat, almost bored, as if your pain was just another inconvenience in his already exhausting day.

you made your way to the bedroom. as you passed him, you bumped your shoulder against his and logan closed his eyes and shook his head. you didn't let the tears fall from your eyes just yet. you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

you collapsed in your shared bed. the sheets smelled faintly of him, even though it had been weeks since the last time he slept there, a cruel reminder of the distance between you. the sobs broke free, quiet and muffled at first, but then louder.

and he heard you from the living room.

you knew he did and you waited, even as your tears soaked the pillow, hoping—praying—that you’d hear the sound of his footsteps approaching. that he’d walk through the door, sit on the edge of the bed, and pull you into his arms like he used to. that he’d say something—anything—to let you know he still cared, still saw you.

but he didn't come.

instead, you heard the clink of his whiskey glass, the quiet sound of him trying to drown out the reality with alcohol. his attempts to ignore the sound of your sobs failed. but still, logan didn’t move.

the tears eventually took over and you fell asleep.

logan picked up the shattered pieces of the plate from the floor and then went into your room. you felt his arm slide across your back, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his skin too familiar, too intimate, but it felt wrong now, like a cruel mockery of what it used to be. you whined and tried to push his arm away, your body tensed, trying not to surrender to the moment, and shook, trying to make it clear that you didn’t want him to touch you.

—don’t, —you muttered, still half asleep. —don’t touch me.

yet he could feel how it instinctively molded to his. your body remembered him, the way you used to fit together.

—quit it, —logan said, his voice low and rough. his arm tightened around you, firmly, to keep you from pulling away. then, just as quickly, his hold softened, arms relaxing as they hugged you.

he stayed there all night, his arm around you, holding you close in a way that felt almost natural. for the first time in what felt like forever, his breathing steadied, the weight of exhaustion pulling him into a deep sleep. you relaxed into his embrace but when you woke up the next morning, the bed felt cold. you turned, reaching out instinctively and the space where he had been was empty.

he was gone. but it wasn't surprising, not really. you should've known that he wouldn’t stay. he had always been a man who left—left conversations unfinished, left wounds unhealed, left you in pieces. what was truly surprising, more than his absence now, was the fact that he had been ever there at all.

[arminslovurrr]

"aita for purposely flirting with a waitress to make my gf mad so i could fuck her attitude away after?" is what asshole!suguru was typing on reddit, a cunning grin plastered on his face as he laid next to your sleeping frame, your arm slung over his chest, a bit of drool slipping past your slightly agape swollen lips. squinting a bit as his phone screen illuminating a white beam on his face.

you caught an attitude after your “sweet” boyfriend suguru who intentionally flirted with a waitress at a cafe you were so excited to take him to. like !?! he blatantly called the waitress pet names that he'd only call you, giving her the sweetest smiles, talking in the smoothest tone then tipping her very generously.

not to even get you started, but did she think you didn't see the way she eyed your man with big doe, occasionally batting her long eyelashes at him, suddenly speaking to him in a honeyed tone, leaning across the table to place sugurus alfredo infront of him, purposely showing the valley of her breast through her unbuttoned uniform shirt. steam was practically coming out of both of your ears, but like the classy girl suguru knew you were, you kept your mouth shut. only mugging her slightly, folding your arms across your chest, sighing loudly n rolling your eyes when she'd ask if suguru needed anything. just wanting to go home and tune suguru out

n what really pissed you off is how he kept trying to converse with you after the stunt he pulled !?! so obviously you ignored him on the car ride home while he asked you "what's wrong" he knows what's wrong!?! n then he’d ramble on about how the cafe was just lovely n how the waitress was so sweet ! it was like he wanted to see a vein about to bulge on your forehead. your eyebrows furrowed, arms folded over your chest, legs facing away from him as you stared out the window. when he tried to rest his hand on ur thigh, he'd glance at you then snicker at ur actions before returning his attention to the road with a small smile on his face

once you got home he gave you one more chance for you to tell him ur woes but instead you stomped away to your shared bedroom. making sure to slam the door behind you.

now he has you folded into a mating press, your legs bent and pressed against your chest as he held his forehead against yours, his breath lightly fanning your face. his pelvis pressed flush against the back of your thighs as he gave you achingly slow strokes, his eyes trained on the lewd expression plastered on your pretty face. he’d keep you on the edge of a mind blowing release, patiently waiting for you to tell him what’s wrong because asshole! suguru just has nooooo idea what he did !!??

you'd fight to keep your eyes open, your mouth slightly agape as pretty lil symphony's rush out of past ur lips "s-suguu- mmmngghh!" you whimpered, staring up at him with now half lidded eyes as his bulbous tip grazed your cervix.

"mhmm.. you gonna let me show you how sorry i am? hm?" he asked you lowly, when you didn't respond due to how intense you were feeling he'd slap you cheek "f-fuh.. oh my gosh-" you sigh not being able to finish ur sentence because of the constant drag of his length in ur confined gummy walls. "speak up sweetie, can't understand you- anghh" he groans as u rack ur nails through his inky strands. "i-i said.." you inhale trying to collect any sense that you still have "fuck youuuu shiiittt…." you groaned when he reached down to toy with your clit. “oh you dont mean that, sweet girl” he cooed as he reeled himself back slightly to stare down at where you two connected.

pulling his hips back to watch as a milky mixture of you both oozes down his pale cock. slowly pushing in and out, occasionally speeding up to get a reaction out of you. a gentle left hand caressing the apple of your cheek before giving it a firm slap, whilst his right thumb hooks under your swollen clit, flicking it up and down gently. “jus be a big hngh- girl n tell me what i did” his breath hitches, teetering on the edge of release as he’d been edging both you and him !!

"fuh-flirtin' with that girl right infrunna m-me.." he chuckles before sucking in a sharp breath at the active clench of your slick pussy. "c-cmon baby" his hips stutter, knowing he's nearing his peak. "you know im sorry, right?" he stares at you with hooded glossy eyes, his left hand coming back up to softly graze you cheek. "forgive me 'n you can cum on this cock, baby." for a second you'd probably think he was actually feeling really.. really apologetic, but knowing suguru he'd probably do it again just to have you in this position once more.

after being edged for so, so long, the word 'cum' leaving his mouth is all you want to hear from him right now. "fine! i f-forgive you sugu!" you cry out feeling him angle his hips up, so each stroke causes his fat cock to poke at that rugged, spongy part deep inside of you. white hot pleasure blinding you, "sa silent scream barely leaves your mouth before suguru presses his lips against yours. his long tongue finding yours as he sucks on it, moaning loudly in your mouth as he pushes you into overstimulation from his nonstop pounding.

if you were to open your eyes to see his face, you be met with a enchantingly chaotic sight. his long inky longs messier than usual, thin eyebrows furrowed with focus, with the prettiest rosy color wiping over his face. he looked pathetic. with one more gasp of your name against your lips, stilling his hips, hot splurts of his creamy seed spills into your awaiting womb, filling up ur tummy with warm ribbons of him. you whine feeling the warmth of him engulf you as he lets his body weight sink onto you.his once stiff cock, comfortable going limp inside of you. his cock acting as plug, keeping his seed snuggly inside of your gooey insides. he sighs deeply, nuzzling his face into your hair as the two of you bask in the afterglow of jealousy sex.

your eyes begin to fall heavy, wanting to succumb to sleep. "do you really forgive me, sweetie?" suguru teasing murmurs into your hair with a sleazy smile that you could pratically hear in that sentence plastered on his stupid face.

"fuck off."

an: suguru is unironically a reddit user, prove me wrong !! anywho yall finally get a work from me after months lololol, there’s no telling when i’ll be back but as always i love yallllllll

© arminslovurr 2023-25 , do not copy, translate, make ai chat bots or alter my work in any way.

[luvst4rc0r3]

OMG I LOVE UR FANFICS!!

PLZ WRITE MORE SERIES!!

Can you write (if you want) a jinx x f!reader were reader’s first language is not English but another language. And she has a son whose first language is English and he always complains about taking classes. So jinx pulls them out of classes and that makes reader very mad. (basically Gloria from modern family)

It can be any language just ofc not English

TYY IF YOU DO IT

OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!

I did it in my native language. English is my first but Tagalog (Filipino)is kinda my second asides from Spanish. I can kinda of speak Tagalog just not fluently.

“Lost in translation”

Jinx x F!Reader

WC: 1427

NOTE: established relationship. I did have to use google translate for some words so it might not be grammatically correct.

THIS ALSO MIGHT BE MY LAST FANFIC FOR A COUPLE DAYS BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

“Jinx, what the hell were you thinking?”

You stood in the center of the small apartment, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Jinx leaned against the counter, her casual stance a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you.

“I was thinking the kid hates it,” she shot back with a shrug, twirling a wrench in her hand. “Why make him sit through something that makes him miserable?”

Your heart clenched. “He needs to learn it. He needs to—” You hesitated, stumbling over your words as your thoughts tripped over each other, fighting to come out in English. “It’s important for him to know… to understand—”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her tone dismissive. “He’s a kid. He doesn’t need a million things crammed into his head. He’s fine just the way he is.”

“Fine?” you echoed, your voice trembling. “Jinx, it’s not just about school. It’s about him knowing who he is. Who I am. You think it’s easy for me, being stuck in the middle of two languages all the time?”

She frowned, her smirk faltering for the first time. “I didn’t say it was easy—”

“You didn’t even ask me!” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “You just pulled him out without even thinking about what it means!”

Jinx tilted her head, her electric blue eyes narrowing. “He’s my kid too, y’know. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and suddenly, the English words you’d been clutching at fell away, leaving nothing but raw emotion. Your chest heaved, and before you knew it, tears blurred your vision.

Jinx’s face shifted, the confidence draining from her expression. “Hey, whoa, babe, don’t cry—”

But you couldn’t stop. The frustration and exhaustion, the endless translating in your head, the constant feeling of being misunderstood—it all came pouring out in a language she didn’t understand.

“Ang hirap na hirap na ako, Jinx. Hindi mo naiintindihan. Hindi mo alam kung gaano kasakit na hindi ko masabi nang maayos ang nararamdaman ko.” (I'm in such a difficult situation, Jinx. You don't understand. You don't know how much it hurts that I can't express my feelings properly.)

You covered your face with your hands, your body shaking with sobs. “I just want him to know me,” you managed to choke out, your voice breaking. “I want him to understand me without me having to fight for every word.”

Jinx froze, the wrench clattering to the floor. She stepped closer, unsure and unsteady, like she was walking on glass.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low and raw with something you didn’t hear from her often—guilt.

You didn’t respond, your tears falling harder. Jinx reached out, her gloved hand hesitating before resting on your knee.

“I thought I was making things better for him. I didn’t think about how it would hurt you.”

You sniffled, shaking your head but still unable to look at her. “It does not just hurt, Jinx,” you whispered, the words coming out shakily. “It’s… I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting with my own head, trying to make everything make sense in English just so I can talk to you, or him, or anyone.”

Jinx’s hand tightened slightly, grounding you, as if to say she was listening.

“I just… I feel like I don’t belong anywhere,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Not here. Not at home. And now, our son… he doesn’t even want to learn the one thing that connects him to where I come from. To me. And you just let him quit. You made the decision like it didn’t matter.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Jinx’s usual chaotic energy had vanished; she looked like someone had ripped the ground out from under her.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but steady. “Of course you didn’t. You never think of anyone except yourself” with that you slammed the door to your shared room with her.

—

You stood in the doorway, your bag slung over your shoulder. Your hands shook as you clutched the strap, the heaviness in your chest unbearable. Jinx stood across the room, her wild hair and mismatched clothes somehow looking smaller, like she didn’t know what to do with herself

“Wait,” she said, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’re leaving?”

You nodded, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill again. “I just… I need space, Jinx. I need time to think.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but no words came. For once, Jinx didn’t fight. She just stood there, the chaos in her usually vibrant eyes dimmed by something deeper.

“I love you,” you said, your voice breaking, “but I can’t keep doing this if you don’t try to understand. It’s too much.”

The silence in the room was deafening, and when you finally stepped out and closed the door behind you, it felt like your heart was breaking in two.

The days passed slowly. You stayed at a friend’s place, letting the quiet moments give you the space to breathe. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Jinx and your son kept creeping in. The weight of the fight lingered in your chest, heavy and unresolved.

You told yourself you just needed a little more time. That maybe Jinx would realize how important this was—not just to you, but to your family.

And then, three days after you left, you came home.

The apartment was quiet when you walked in, and for a moment, you wondered if she was even there. But then you heard it.

“Kamusta.”(Hello)

You froze, your bag slipping from your shoulder as you turned toward the sound. Jinx stood in the middle of the living room, her hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“What?” you asked, your heart pounding.

She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and determination. “Kamusta,” she said again, the word clumsy but recognizable. “That means… uh, hello? Right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Y-yeah.”

Her lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “I’ve been trying,” she said, stumbling over the words. “I… I looked up some stuff. It’s… hard, but I wanna learn. I wanna…”

She trailed off, her electric blue eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. “Ayaw ko… um…” She fumbled for a moment, clearly struggling to remember the phrase. “Ayaw kong… mag-translate ka… araw-araw.” (I don’t…I don’t want you to have to translate everyday)

Your heart clenched at the effort in her voice, the way she fought through every syllable. “I don’t… I don’t want you to have to translate every day. I love you,” she added in English, her voice shaking slightly.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took a step closer. “Jinx…” you smile widely, “now you’re the one who looks like an idiot!”

She chuckles softly but soon returns to her straight face. “I’m serious, okay? I… I’m not good at this, but I’m gonna try. I’ll keep learning. And he’s gonna learn, too. I already talked to him. Told him he’s sticking with it. I don’t care how much he complains—I’ll sit with him if I have to. We’ll both learn.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now, your hand flying to your mouth as you let out a shaky breath.

“I didn’t get it before,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “But I do now. I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone. Or like we don’t see you—really see you. You shouldn’t have to fight for that.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “I’ll learn Tagalog for you. For us. Because I love you. And I don’t wanna lose you.”

A sob broke free from your chest as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close. Her arms tightening around you, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Salamat,” you whispered through your tears. (Thank you)

Jinx chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Walang anuman. That’s how you say ‘you’re welcome,’ right?”

You laughed, your heart aching in the best way. “Yeah. That’s right.”

Her grin widened, a little of her usual spark returning. “Told ya. I’m a fast learner.”

And in that moment, as the weight in your chest began to lift, you believed her. Together, you’d figure it out.

for once, her chaos felt like home.

TYY whoever requested that!! That was such and interesting requests to write!!

I want food

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 11.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! (we back at it)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.12.

word count: 6,3K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: My humble offering after the stress of previous chapters. I promise there is fluff.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

Christmas at home unfolded in its usual rhythm, but this time, it felt different. Despite your own scepticism, you actually attempted the moon salutations your dad had badgered you about. Later, you unapologetically devoured an inhuman amount of pierogi, earning both admiration and disapproval from your relatives. Yet, for the first time in years, you found yourself genuinely enjoying the festivities. Somehow, the snow fight with Viktor, and everything else that came with it, had lightened something inside you. The weight you hadn’t realised you’d been carrying felt less oppressive, and the chaos of your family became something you could actually laugh about.

For Viktor, Christmas with Jayce and his family was quieter than expected but in a way that felt oddly relaxing. Jayce, ever the enthusiast, made a commendable attempt at cooking a festive dinner, and despite Viktor’s initial doubts, it wasn’t a complete disaster. They spent the evening exchanging stories, the crackle of the fireplace filling the silences, and for the first time in a long time, Viktor didn’t feel like an outsider looking in on a tradition.

You returned to university on a train with Hale, the two of you chatting about everything and nothing. Hale, perceptive as ever, avoided probing you about Sheffield or Viktor, instead letting you adjust to the shift in pace on your own. Your laughter filled the carriage as you shared stories about your holidays, the comfort of familiarity easing the transition back to reality.

And yet, both you and Viktor found your thoughts drifting back to the snow—the cold biting your skin, the warmth of your laughter, your anger, and your resolution. You had kept it to yourselves, not out of secrecy, but out of reverence for how rare it felt. Now, as you both prepared to return to university, a mix of excitement and nervousness settled in your chest. Whatever had happened in Sheffield, whatever had moved, would soon be tested by the reality of your everyday lives. Neither of you knew what would come next, but Viktor’s fear had smoothed around the edges, and your hesitation had warmed up to hope.

When you all met by the entrance, it was hard not to skip slightly. Jayce was unloading his and Viktor’s bags from the trunk, while Viktor leaned against the car, waving his hands in the air, clearly saying something important—or groundbreaking.

“I’m thrilled to see you again, gentlemen,” Hale smirked, taking in the uneven division of labour. “I have to admit, this is exactly how I pictured your setup,” he wagged his eyebrows at Jayce, who only shrugged, playfully unbothered.

You walked up to Viktor, giving him a small, casual wave. He responded with a quiet “hi,” and before you could ask anything, he took a step, closing the distance between you. He had rehearsed the moment of your next meeting in his head, and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but his body acted entirely outside his brain’s jurisdiction.

“What are you—” you started, but your question was cut off when he leaned in and kissed you. Your body froze in surprise—hands hovering over his shoulders, tentative—before you relaxed into it, placing your palms on his arms.

The kiss was enough to make Jayce and Hale freeze, eyes wide and jaws dropped, as if they had just witnessed something completely impossible. When Viktor pulled back, he looked at you for a moment, his breath shallow. “I’m sorry I haven’t texted, I—”

Your lips quirked into a smile. “My family hunts down anyone that uses a phone over Christmas with torches and pitchforks,” you teased, your tone light, though it still carried a slight tremble of nervousness.

Hale burst your bubble with a loud clearing of his throat, his eyes rolling knowingly. He propped his hand on his hip, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement, and then turned toward Jayce, holding out his other hand. “Alright, pay up, unbeliever.”

Jayce, still a little stunned, dug into his wallet without saying a word, pulling out a ten-pound note and handing it to Hale. “You are a fucking witch, Hale.”

“I’m sorry, did you take bets on my private life?” you scoffed, slightly bemused in mock offence, your arms now circled around Viktor’s waist.

“We didn’t bet against you if that’s what’s worrying you. Just the time frames,” Hale said, waving his hand vaguely between you and Viktor. “Jayce wouldn’t accept that this”—he gestured loosely—“will resolve itself before mid-terms.” He shrugged, fanning himself playfully with his illegally acquired tenner.

“I hope now you know that my powers have no limit, and that I am always right,” he announced triumphantly in Jayce’s direction.

“I don’t even want to know what you guys talked about when we weren’t around,” you sighed, resigned to the thought of your little drama becoming fodder for your friends’ gossip routine. It felt completely alien to be wrapped around Viktor in public, though not unwelcome—he had solved your next equation for you: how you were going to tell the group that the volatile times were over.

Jayce seemed happy enough about losing the bet; he gave Viktor a pat on the shoulder and ran off to see Mel. Hale strolled off toward his dorm building, leaving you and Viktor to grab your bags and march together into whatever was coming next. You exchanged awkward small talk about your holiday experiences as you walked toward the lift, your hands loosely tangled together.

You entered the elevator with two other girls, who eyed you suspiciously. Viktor pressed the button for his floor with his cane, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, completely ignoring your questioning gaze.

“Excuse me, and what about my floor?” you asked, your eyebrows raised in mock offence as you shifted your bag higher on your shoulder.

“We are not going to your floor,” Viktor replied calmly, not even sparing you a glance as the elevator began its ascent. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, letting part of his weight rest on you.

“Oh, we’re not, are we?” you challenged, turning to face him fully. “And where exactly are you dragging me, Mr. Master Planner?”

“Obviously, up to my room,” he said, his tone so unbothered it almost made you laugh.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “And what would I possibly want to do in your room?”

Viktor’s lips twitched into a sly smile as he glanced sideways at you, his voice low and laced with amusement. “It’s about what I want to do. But if you have to ask so many questions...” He leaned in closer, his breath brushing your ear, and you could feel the smug grin blooming on his lips. “I want to eat you out.”

The two girls in the elevator exchanged a glance, one of them scoffing in incredulity, while you whisper-shouted at him in shock, “Viktor! There are people here!”

“You insisted. Now you know,” he replied, unfazed, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as the elevator continued upward.

The moment the door to Viktor’s room shut behind you, the tension you’d carried up the lift broke like a dam. You spun on your heel, shoving Viktor lightly against the door, your lips finding his in a hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, mussing the strands with reckless abandon. Viktor let out a soft noise of surprise, barely managing to steady himself with his cane before surrendering to your fervour.

Your fingers made quick work of his belt; the metallic clink startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. You barely pulled back from the kiss, your breath hot against his lips as you whispered, “God, you’re hot.”

Viktor’s ears burned red, his breath hitching as he stared at you, stunned and flustered. “Where did that come from?” he asked, his voice uneven, the faintest hint of a nervous laugh escaping him.

You smirked, tilting your head as you undid the last of his belt and tugged it loose. “Have you seen the mirror like… ever? You are always hot,” you breathed against his neck, unceremoniously shoving your hand down his pants, making him release a startled moan. “But now you are the hottest,” you said eagerly, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Viktor jumped at your touch, his body instinctively trying to wiggle out of your grasp as he rasped in surprise, “I thought I made myself clear in the lift, so what is this you’re trying to—ah!” He broke off, his breath hitching as your fingers traced a particularly sensitive spot. His protest melted into a half-laugh, half-groan before he finished, “…do?”

“Maybe I want to eat you out first?” you retorted playfully in between kisses, as you walked him carefully toward the bed, plucking his cane from his hand and sitting him on the mattress. And he let you. He let your hands guide his torso to splay flat and your palms to travel down his chest and thighs, your skin hot with yearning, as you positioned yourself between his legs. He propped himself up to run his hands up your thighs, only to discover it was stockings hiding beneath your skirt.

“Is that for me?” It was meant as a tease but came out too admiring to provoke anything else than a smile on your face.

“Yes,” you said bluntly, and seeing some other remark already dancing on the tip of his tongue, you leaned in and took a long, deep whiff of his cock through the underwear. Viktor’s head fell back onto the pillow as he released a loud groan, his body curling up in heat. His words caught in his throat, and all he could manage was a shaky laugh. “This… isn’t fair play.”

“Oh no, Viktor, you’d better call the police,” you mocked, sliding his pants and boxers down to take him in fully, for the first time, in broad daylight. You paused, your eyes fixed on him, flustered and dishevelled by the doings of your own hands, and whispered in awe, “You are so fucking hot.” A smile bloomed on your face as you noticed the blush rapidly creeping up his chest.

Viktor took a couple of long breaths to steady himself, your warm hands resting in the creases of his thighs making him twitch slightly. “I might have come up with a compromise,” he managed to say, his words escaping in a desperate exhale.

Seeing your eyebrows shoot up in question, he motioned for you to come closer. Wordlessly, he guided your hands to rest on his hips and positioned your hips over his chest to straddle him. Your fingers tensed up, digging into his hipbones, so he soothed you sliding his palms flat over your ass cheeks and whispered into your core, “Trust me.”

You hesitated, waiting for him to make the next move. When you felt his face hovering over your underwear, you jumped slightly at the heat of his breath. “It seems to me that you come unprepared… though not unready.” He smirked, seeing the moisture that had already pooled itself through your knickers. “How attached are you to those?” he asked quietly, gliding his hands underneath the material.

“Not very attached, why?” Your tone was light, though trembling at the edges. Your eyes were transfixed on his cock already weeping at the tip, but Viktor didn’t see. All he saw was what was in front of him, when he ripped the material in one smooth motion and placed an outrageously loud, moany kiss on your core, sending a jolt up your spine. “Well, that’s just beautiful, isn’t it.”

He peppered slow smooches all over you and you jumped at each and every one. This was perfect—a sudden surge of affection tore through him, as he felt a strange sense of belonging there, smothered by your thighs. He scratched his nails on the meat of your ass and pushed his nose inside you, taking a long whiff. It went through your mind how incredibly gross and hot it was simultaneously, when your own whimper broke your focus—Viktor licked your clit with a hard tongue, while teasing your entrance with the tip of his nose. A low chuckle echoed through you, when he felt your inside clench on nothing.

You had to recollect herself quickly, though Viktor’s tongue made it so, so difficult. You steadied the base of his cock in your hand and kissed the tip sweetly, drawing a muffled moan from his lips. His face snapped an inch away, only for him to brush his thumb against your clit playfully, causing your rhythm to stutter. You huffed, as if to scold him, but your mouth, already wrapped around his cock, never left him, and it made him giggle.

Seeing your resolve wouldn’t faulter, Viktor hooked his arms around your thighs and buried his face greedily in your core. The groan you let out caused his belly to knot tightly and send a vibration all the way up to his mouth, which he delivered back as a helpless mewl against your lips.

None of you would give in, completely invested in drawing hums and growls from each other, just to send one another over the edge. Until Viktor used his last resort—he pushed two fingers inside you to join his tongue in this sweet torture and you fell for the first time that day. You snapped your mouth away from him, your spine pulled up like that of a puppet to grind your hips down on Viktor’s face, as your wordlessly came into it, covering his mouth, nose, and cheeks with your sleek.

It was a completely new kind of intimacy for you. The gentle struggle for control between you mirrored the way you had pushed and pulled at each other emotionally, leaving you both nervous and excited all at once. The sound of your own heavy breathing filled the silence, and you found herself torn between wanting to hug him, suck him off into oblivion, or scream at him—all these feelings mingling together, none overpowering the others.

“Good girl,” he let out a breathy laugh, slapping your ass cheek playfully. You groaned at your defeat, but having your full focus back, you eagerly resumed the work on the assignment. Having Viktor trapped underneath you, you cupped his balls in one hand and let your throat relax over his length.

You considered teasing him, but the thought vanished the moment your skin met his again. The helpless twitch in your mouth made you release a muffled yearning moan, and you realised that the feeling of pleasure spreading through your bodies was mutual.

Your mouth was hot on him, and the feeling of Viktor’s body writhe underneath yours, now nestled comfortably in his edges, made your chest fill with warmth. You worked him slowly, thoroughly, taking in all the small sounds his lips would give you. His hips bucked once in a while and when he couldn’t hold himself back much longer, he bit on your ass cheek, sending your chuckle straight into his burning core.

“Ah, I can’t—,” Viktor tried to plea, but you wouldn’t release him. You held his hips down with your weight and allowed him to spill himself into your mouth, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue as you pushed it down your throat, keeping it to yourself. His cock finally broke free with a quiet ‘pop’ sound, making him release a small hiss.

Viktor lay still, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, your weight pressing down on him in a way that was both grounding and liberating. He felt no pain, no discomfort—only the warm afterglow of bliss, a soothing wave that enveloped him as you rested on top of him, your body soft and pliant against his. For a moment, time seemed to stretch, leaving only the two of you, intertwined like figures on a set of poker cards, your softness pouring itself between his sharp edges. The silence between you felt full, almost sacred, as Viktor's mind slowly unfurled, each thought calmly finding its place in the serenity of the moment. In this stillness, there was no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, powerful understanding of everything you had shared and the comfort of knowing it wasn’t over yet.

“Hey, come up here,” he took a deep breath, his fingers tracing a line up your spine. You obliged wordlessly, settling yourself in the crook of his neck, when he pulled you into a slow, grateful kiss. He could feel the taste of himself on your mouth, which made him deepen the kiss and pull you closer.

“I guess this is not on your mind now, but I just want to let you know that I’m healthy,” he said quietly, his expression thoughtful.

You blinked twice, your mind slowly coming back into your body. Fuck, right. “Jesus, I didn’t even think—”

“That’s alright. If you need some sex ed, I can be of service,” he smirked, right into your face. “Now would be the time you tell me about yourself.”

“Hm, I don’t know, I had this weird rash for days, can you take a look?” you started pulling your shirt up in a joke and Viktor whined, “Get off me, you vile woman!”

You both laughed, the sound light and easy, before he pulled you back in, his lips finding yours again in a deeper, more lingering kiss. “You are such a weirdo,” he said, affection dripping from his voice. He nuzzled his face into yours and let out a content sigh.

“I’m healthy too,” you smiled, feeling the familiar warmth between you two. It was strange how easy it felt to talk to him about something that could be so awkward with anyone else. It felt natural, in a way that wasn’t foreshadowed by the route you had to take to get there.

“I guess this would also be a good time to tell you I’m on the pill?” you said, your voice playful, your fingers tracing circles on his chest.

Viktor paused, his expression shifting as he gently cupped your face, making you meet his eyes. His gaze was serious, his tone low but steady. “That’s your decision,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek, “but just know that other methods work for me too, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

You smiled at him, the warmth in his voice making your heart flutter. Leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just for a moment longer than necessary.

You settled into a silent lull, tangled with each other. Viktor didn’t break the stillness for a moment, his thoughts weighing on him, before he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.

“So... would you go on a date with me?” he asked, a slight nervousness creeping into the edges of his words.

Your lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, your eyes bright as you responded, “I thought we already were.”

He chuckled, the sound a little more relieved than he expected. “Not quite what I meant,” he said, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw. “But yes, this is me asking... would you?”

You laughed softly, teasing him. “Well, I guess since you asked so nicely… yes.”

Viktor’s smile softened as he leaned in to kiss you again, the simple act of asking suddenly feeling like one of the most important things he had done in a long time.

***

The simple act of getting dressed wasn’t so simple, though. You paced up and down your room, your wardrobe splayed out—well, everywhere—as you eyed every single item of clothing, only to toss it aside with a grunt.

“Where is he taking you?” Sue asked, knowing she had to tread carefully. When she suggested that jeans and a t-shirt would fit anywhere, you responded with a huff and a pair of rolled-up socks thrown in her direction.

“I. Have. No. Idea,” you finally slumped down on the bed, surrounded by the pile of clothes. “Sue, I’m losing my mind. I think I should break up with him.”

“Jesus, I don’t know which one of you is worse,” your friend chuckled, proceeding to ruffle through her own wardrobe. She pulled out a simple blue dress with spaghetti straps. “There—you could wear this for a restaurant, a museum, or even a club. Maybe a pub too, but you might turn a couple of heads in it,” she said, placing the dress at your feet.

You peeked through your fingers, then paused. This... might work. “Do I get your boobs with it, though?” You shot Sue a glance, measuring the fabric against your chest.

“Will you stop being such a twat? I already feel like I’m overstepping. Hale should be your fairy godmother here,” Sue crossed her arms over her chest. “This is my lucky dress, and you will treat yourself with respect when you wear it, young lady!”

“Uh, how many times did you get lucky in it?” you said, feigning disgust as you held the dress in front of yourself by the straps dangling from your fingers.

“It’s freshly washed,” Sue shot you a sweet smile, and you only rolled your eyes. You put the dress on and, surprisingly, it fit. It actually fit so well that you worried it might be an overkill. A knock on the door pulled you out of the debate about whether you should go with jeans and a t-shirt instead.

“Are you… oh,” Viktor’s voice caught in his throat, and you immediately abandoned the jeans-and-t-shirt idea. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You eyed him up and down—he looked… nice. Nicer than usual, as much as that was possible. He was wearing a long coat, dark brown woollen pants, and a white shirt that peeked out from under his red pullover. A matching red scarf hung loosely from his neck, and you suddenly remembered it was winter, so you had to wear a coat as well.

“Or rather, almost ready,” you quipped, grabbing your coat and a small purse.

“And why haven’t I seen this dress before?” Viktor leaned in to give you a peck on the cheek, his hand sliding down your waist.

“It’s Sue’s lucky dress, apparently, so whatever luck happens tonight, we have Sue to thank.” You tried to sound composed, but your nerves got the better of you, and it came out breathy.

“No shagging in my dress, please,” Sue said bluntly, trying to sort out the mess you were leaving behind. “And have fun, you two.”

Viktor took your hand as you walked out together—a completely simple and innocent, loving gesture that made your heart race with panic. Were your hands sweaty? You were the one who had forgotten gloves this time. You struggled to think of anything to say that might sound natural and suddenly felt trapped in your own awkwardness. Your nerves bubbled up, and you squeezed his hand lightly, trying to distract yourself.

“So,” you began casually, your voice a little too high-pitched, “where exactly are you taking me?”

Viktor gave you a sideways glance but didn’t answer immediately. He had the same tight, focused expression he always wore when he was working. You raised an eyebrow. He was definitely keeping something from you.

“Come on,” you prodded, “You can’t just say ‘you’ll see’ and expect me not to get curious.”

“I think you’ll like it,” Viktor replied, his voice even, but you could sense the hesitation beneath it. He had no idea if you would like it, because when he picked the place, it struck him so suddenly that he didn’t have the faintest idea about what you might’ve liked in the first place. So, he picked the most generic, fancy place he had heard of, and right now it made his skin crawl that he'd heard of it from Heimerdinger.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to read him, but he kept his usual unreadable composure. After a long pause, you gave up, deciding to let the mystery unfold. Though you had no idea what you were about to walk into, it was strangely... exciting.

The restaurant was nothing like you had expected. You blinked in surprise as you entered a lavish, high-end dining room with dim lighting, white linen tablecloths, and waiters gliding silently between tables. It felt stiff—formality hanging in the air like the scent of all things expensive: leather, wine, and heavy perfume. You felt suddenly out of place in your casual dress, surrounded by the perfectly groomed people around you.

“Viktor…” you murmured, looking at him. “This is... this is fancy. Are you sure this is the place?”

Viktor smiled nervously, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself as much as you. “No, I haven’t been here before, but I’ve heard it’s really good.”

You gave him a half-smile, your nerves beginning to spike. You hadn’t expected this. He was acting like he had no idea what he was doing, but there was a determination in his eyes that made you wonder if he really was as out of his element as he seemed.

As you were led to your table, the waiter noticed Viktor’s cane and immediately straightened up, his eyes scanning the space. “Would you prefer a more comfortable seat, sir?” he asked politely. “Something with more support?”

Viktor’s hand twitched on his cane, and you quickly jumped in. “No, this is fine, thank you.” Oh God, why couldn’t you just shut up?

When you sat down, you glanced at the menu, but the silence stretched out between you as you searched for words. You glanced at Viktor, who was completely absorbed in the card, and you could swear there was a drop of sweat forming on his temple. You picked up the menu, flipping through it but barely taking in anything. Your eyes landed on the prices, which made your throat tighten.

After a beat, you asked, trying to hide the edge of concern in your voice, “Are you sure about this place? The prices—uh, it’s a little... well, it’s a lot.”

Viktor didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at you with an unreadable expression, and the silence settled in again. Finally, he asked, his voice quiet but sharp, “Why are you acting so weird?”

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat rise to your face. You could barely meet his eyes, feeling like you were under a microscope. “Me? Why are you acting so weird? You barely said a word tonight,” you shot back, your voice rising slightly in defence. “Is this what you think I like?”

“I… guess I’m… nervous?” Viktor’s voice faltered, sounding more like he had just begun searching for an answer. “Also… I actually might not have the faintest idea what you would like, and well…” His hand gestured vaguely, as if trying to dismiss the discomfort between you.

You blinked, your brows furrowing. “So you decided to take me to a place that makes me incredibly uncomfortable, instead of asking me?” Your voice came out sharper than you meant, more accusatory than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it back. “Why... why did you ask me out in the first place?”

Viktor’s face twisted in frustration, his lips curling into a tight line. “Because that’s what normal people do?” he retorted, his whisper barely containing the tension bubbling in his chest. “You will forgive me, but have I breached some kind of rule that you have made up in your head?”

Your chest tightened, but you couldn’t decide whether you were surprised or offended. You almost wanted to throw your hands up, but instead, you exhaled sharply, trying to rein in your growing frustration. “No, oh God, it’s not about that. Did you ask me on a date because you wanted to spend time with me, or because you felt like you had to?”

Viktor's expression faltered, his jaw clenching as if he were searching for the right words. His voice dropped even lower, still sharp but full of confusion and vulnerability.

“Jesus, please don’t do this,” he muttered, his eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and exasperation. “I asked you because I’ve never asked anyone before, and it felt… right. No matter how wrong it feels now,” he finished with a frustrated whisper-shout.

You blinked, the sudden honesty hitting you like a slap to the face. “Wait. You’ve never been on a date before?” You couldn’t hide the shock in your voice, your wide eyes searching his face for any hint of a joke. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t say that,” Viktor shot back quickly, his voice almost defensive. “I have been asked out. But I have never asked anyone.” He looked down, his gaze turning away from you as though the words stung more than he’d let on, like admitting it was something of a personal defeat.

Your heart softened for a moment, but you quickly masked it with your usual teasing demeanour.

“I, um…” You hesitated, the weight of the awkward silence pressing down on you. You could see the evening unfolding in your mind’s eye: a tiny, overpriced meal, polite conversation, and then a quick parting with a stiff “goodnight.” That wasn’t what you wanted, but you weren’t sure how to get the two of you out of this pit you’d dug. “Where… would you take me if…”

Viktor gave you a sideways glance, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. “If I actually knew something about you?” His voice softened with a hint of uncertainty. “I don’t know. How about you tell me?”

You bit your lip for a moment, staring down at your menu, trying to figure out how to salvage this. “I… like chips?” you offered, the words feeling ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth.

Viktor blinked, clearly caught off guard, before a small laugh bubbled up from his chest. The sound was warm and genuine, cutting through the tension between you. You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of it all breaking the ice.

“Chips?” Viktor chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Hey, don’t judge,” you shot back, still grinning. “It’s the simple things. Who doesn’t like chips?”

Viktor’s smile softened as the awkwardness between you began to melt away. He leaned back slightly in his chair, looking at you with a glimmer of something less guarded in his eyes. First, he spoke your name with exagerrated sincerity. Then, he took a deep breath, his voice a little more serious now, but still light. “Would you like to get a beer and fish & chips with me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was simple. It was perfect. You let out a soft, relieved laugh. “I thought you’d never ask,” you said, your voice lighter, warmer.

Viktor’s smile deepened, the weight of the evening’s tension finally starting to ease. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, leaning forward just enough to meet your eyes. “Should we run then? I’m low-key scared of that waiter,” he whispered loudly into your ear, leaning over the table.

You nodded eagerly and stood up from your seat. “Do you need some assistance in walking, sir?”

Viktor snorted at your weak attempt to mock the waiter’s accent, stood up, and pulled you under his shoulder, leaning his weight on you. “Yes, I’m afraid you will have to carry me to our next destination.”

*

“Hmm, that’s it. I’m planning our dates from now on,” you sighed, clearly pleased with yourself and the dinner you were eating out of the newspaper.

“Is that so? Bossing me around already?” Viktor hooked his arm around your shoulder. The two of you sat on the bench next to the fish and chips shop, and it was unbearably cold. You were wearing only a silly dress and a coat with no scarf or gloves because you had no idea what to wear and had left in a hurry. And he knew it.

“Are you complaining?” you asked, your words muffled as you were still chewing. You shot him a look, as if challenging him, though it would have been perfectly reasonable to complain—he had fallen only once, and only because he was trying not to. As usual, the moment led him to a more significant answer to a more significant question.

“No,” Viktor deadpanned. No, he wasn’t.

“That’s it? No?” You nuzzled closer into his arm, still eating. The vinegar made your nose burn—your other source of warmth, aside from Viktor.

“Eh, I am slowly accepting my fate,” he shrugged, completely unfazed. “It’s not going to be normal, is it?” It was more of a statement than a question, mused into the cold air. It made him feel warmer, though he had no idea what normal even was.

“No. Not in my nature. Also—who are you to demand normal?” You snorted, thinking of how weird the last three months had been, how weird your parents were, and wondering if it wasn’t just you who was not normal, but actually weird, in a way.

“I’m not demanding. As I said—I am slowly accepting my fate.” And it was the truth. Slowly, his fate was facing acceptance. Or rather, rapidly, as it had already been accepted and settled in his head: no other way from that point forward was possible for him.

“It must be terrible, to carry such a burden.” You let out a long sigh, intending to mock him but lacking any real bite in the end. You tried to eat your last chip but faltered and dropped it idly back into the newspaper.

“You have no idea.” You haven’t got the faintest fucking idea.

***

“Come on, last chapter,” Viktor nudged your elbow. Your head was resting limply against his desk, your hands hanging at your sides.

“I am never asking you again,” you groaned. It was so late, the letters had stopped making sense a long time ago. “I miss Sue.” It was meant as a joke, but you almost wept at the memory of you and Sue saying, “fuck it” and going to bed when you studied together.

“Don’t be such a baby. People would kill to have me as a study buddy.” Viktor leaned in and placed his hand on your neck. It was warm and made you even sleepier.

“I hope they kill me,” you said, lifting yourself up and slumping your hands onto his shoulders to look him dead in the eye. It was no joke.

“Please, I’ll feed you anything you want after that.”

You blinked at him absentmindedly. “Are you expecting me to say something very specific now?” Your eyebrow shot up, as if the dots had magically connected themselves. You weren’t going to say it, though—your mouth was dry, and your eyes were tearing up from exhaustion.

“I wasn’t. Now I am.” Viktor shrugged, his lips curling into a smile as he watched you like this. “Stop this; distraction won’t save you.” As if you could pull anything like that off right now.

“Viktor, how about begging? I am so. Tired. I beg you; I need to splay myself flat or I will die,” you whined theatrically, dropping to your knees before him, your hands gripping his thighs.

“You should switch departments,” he chuckled at your desperation. It was much cuter than Jayce throwing books at him in the exact same setup. “But, eh, I guess it’s fine. What time is the exam?”

Which was why he faltered. You had no idea how many things you could’ve asked.

“11. Yes—” You raised your head and looked up at him. He was already opening his mouth to say that you should revise in the morning, though his smile was saying something else.

“I will revise in the morning.” You smiled softly, almost whispering. I love you for this.

“It’s settled then. Will you stay?” He held out his hands to help you up.

“Viktor, I can barely move. I’m no use here now.” You took his hands, though you tried to get up using as much of your own strength as possible.

“To sleep, you degenerate,” he scoffed, still smiling. “To splay yourself flat and sleep, instead of, I don’t know... dying.” Stay, stay, stay.

“Yes.” You nodded many times to emphasize how much you were staying. I also love you for this. You could cry if you weren’t so tired. You almost did when he gave you a spare toothbrush, a towel, his boxer shorts, and his green jumper to sleep in. You smelled entirely of Viktor now, and you decided that any other smell stunk.

You sank into the mattress, tangling yourself around him like a snake—your thigh between his legs, his bad leg propped on your hip. Your arms wrapped around his waist, fists clutching his sleeping T-shirt with I ♥ Jayce Tallis written on it, your face pressed against his neck, as if your own smell of Viktor wasn’t enough smell of Viktor.

His hand rested in the small of your back, the other splayed under your head. He spoke your name softly.

Silence. Only breathing. He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table to set the alarm. 7 AM—you were going to have his head for this.

He whispered your name again, this time to himself. I am rapidly falling in love with you. You had stayed the night.

[just1cefor4ll]

Summer Days

summary. you get hired as Gong Yoo’s personal photographer as a summer job— however things change once he starts catching feelings for his little paparazzi.

warning. photos might not correspond with the set season or place, some pictures may not be exactly of Gong Yoo but they are meant to be him so just imagine it being him, not proof read, mentions of reader growing up in Seoul but no specific skin colour, ethnicity or anything like that was mentioned

Email after email… yet none were answered. You were trying to get a job as a photographer for the summer, trying to get out of the house, travel a bit— maybe even meet a few hot celebrities.. and of course get money for your necessities.

You were in your 30s, living in a small apartment in Tokyo which was enough for you alone, but something inside of you wanted a change.

It had been tough, though. In your 30s, living alone in a modest space, the quiet moments often stretched too long. You’d spent countless hours applying for jobs, most with no response, and the few rejections you received stung even worse. Then came the call from your mother.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s the summer job hunt going?” she asked cheerily, her warmth radiating through the phone. Though you couldn’t see her, you could easily picture her familiar smile. You sighed, massaging your temple. “Mom, I told you yesterday—no one’s answered me yet,” you admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth. It was embarrassing enough being 37 and struggling to find work, but confessing it to your mother made it even harder. “Oh, right,” she said, not missing a beat. “Don’t worry, honey—they’ll be fighting over you as their photographer in no time!” Her light laugh managed to coax a smile out of you. Somewhere deep in your chest, hope flickered. “Thanks, Mom. I love you,” you said softly. “I love you too, dear. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

The line clicked, leaving you in the stillness of your apartment. You sighed again, though this time there was a glimmer of contentment in it. As much as you missed your family in Seoul, you were determined to make this new life in Japan work.

As if on que, you got an email;

“Miss [Name] [Last Name],

We’ve read through your email and saw the photographs you listed in your portfolio and we’re happy to announce we’d like to have you as a personal photographer for Gong Ji-cheol— or professionally known as Gong Yoo. Please respond as quickly as possible so we can book you a flight to Seol where you’d get picked up. Further information will be given once you arrive.

Kind regards, Management Soop.”

Your jaw dropped. A squeal of excitement erupted before you could stop yourself, and you jumped out of your chair so fast it toppled to the floor. Clutching your chest to steady your racing heart, you took a deep breath and quickly typed out a reply.

What followed was a blur of packing and planning. Before long, you were on a plane back to Seoul, staring out the window with a small, satisfied smile.

yn.photographs

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yn.ph0tographs Guess who’s in Seol .. YAYYDYHDS

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annacathcart have a safe trip girl!!

nonamee WHATTT

user67464483929 cant wait for whatever new you capture<3

The car stopped in front of a tall apartment building. A man from Management Soop—your temporary manager—led you inside and handed you a set of keys. “This will be your home for the time you’ll be working for us. Unpack and get some rest. Be ready by 5 AM tomorrow— I’ll explain everything then so meet me in the lobby on time.”

And with a snap of your fingers; the next morning came— “Yes, you heard correctly— we’re going to Jeju.” The manager said with a sigh before chuckling at your enthusiasm. “Come on now we’ll miss the plane.” “Will Gong Yoo be meeting us there?” You asked with curiosity, getting a simple nod as your response.

When you finally arrived on Jeju Island, the sea breeze kissed your skin, and the scenery was as breathtaking as you’d imagined. You caught a glimpse of Gong Yoo from afar but there was no chance to speak to him yet. You all settled in a cabin, large enough for everyone— and your equipment which was off to a great start in your book. Your room was right across from the manager while Gong Yoo was upstairs. It was cozy, and you couldn’t wait to spend the week there.

As the evening rolled in, everyone gathered for a brief meeting. Gong Yoo finally joined the group, descending the staircase with an air of effortless charm. When his gaze landed on you, he offered a small but genuine smile. “You must be our photographer,” he said, his deep voice smoother than you expected. You nodded, suddenly aware of how dry your throat felt. “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you managed to say, giving a small bow. He chuckled softly. “Likewise. I hope you’re ready for some early mornings and long hikes.” You smiled back, the initial nerves giving way to excitement. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

gongyoo_official

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gongyoo_official📍Jeju Island

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gongyoostan who dat in the baaack (behind the camera)

╰┈➤ management.soop replied Gong Yoo’s new personal photographer— every picture taken during summer time is taken by @.yn.phot0graphs :)

╰┈➤ yn.phot0graphs replied ME ME ME i mean hi I’m the new photographer of the team :3

The manager clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, team. Tomorrow’s itinerary is packed. We’ll start before sunrise to catch the golden hour at Hamdeok beach. It’s going to be a long day, so get plenty of rest tonight.”

As everyone dispersed, you lingered by the window, gazing out at the moonlit landscape. The faint hum of conversation drifted from the kitchen, where Gong Yoo and the manager were chatting over tea. It felt surreal, being in the midst of all this, on the cusp of a week that could change your life.

The next morning, your alarm blared at 4:00 AM. Groggily, you got dressed and grabbed your gear, double-checking everything before heading downstairs. Gong Yoo was already there, sipping coffee and looking impossibly awake for such an early hour. He glanced at you and smiled. “Morning,” he said. “Morning,” you replied, suppressing a yawn. The team piled into a van, driving through the dark until you reached your destination. By the time you arrived, the sky was beginning to blush with hints of orange and gold. You quickly set up your equipment, the cool morning air sharp against your skin.

Gong Yoo stood a few meters away, gazing at the horizon. You took a moment to frame the shot: the rising sun casting a warm glow, and Gong Yoo, serene and reflective, perfectly positioned.

It was the first of many photos that day, but something about that moment felt special—like the beginning of something extraordinary.

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yn.ph0tographs first day on the job :0

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gongyoo_official so talented!

╰┈➤ iloveyn replied OFC SHE IS???

╰┈➤ yn.ph0tographs replied haha thank you :)

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The week went by quite fast— you got to know Gong Yoo a bit more and by the end of the week, he handed you his contact information with a casual, “In case we need to coordinate anything later.” You’d tried to play it cool, but the excitement bubbled just beneath the surface.

Now, you found yourself on a flight to Paris—your next assignment. It sounded glamorous on paper, but arriving during peak tourist season turned the dream into a mixed bag. The streets were packed, the lines stretched endlessly, and the prices soared. Still, you couldn’t deny the thrill of being in the city of lights. The view however was nice. You could see the Eiffel tower from your window but it wasn’t necessarily close. Maybe a 45 minute walk?

Gong Yoo’s room was just down the hall. He knocked lightly on your door shortly after you’d settled in. “You should see the view from the rooftop,” he said with a small smile. “Better than this?” you teased, gesturing toward your window. “Trust me.”

You grabbed your camera and followed him up the narrow staircase to the rooftop. He wasn’t wrong—the view was breathtaking. “I see why they call it the City of Lights,” you murmured, framing the scene through your lens. Gong Yoo leaned on the railing beside you, his expression thoughtful. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Makes you forget about the crowds for a moment.”

You nodded, snapping a few more photos before lowering your camera. “How are you not completely overwhelmed by all this? The constant traveling, the attention, the schedule... doesn’t it ever get to you?”He chuckled softly. “It does. But moments like this make it worth it. I get to slow down, even if just for a little while.” The two of you stood in companionable silence for a while, the cool Parisian breeze brushing past. It wasn’t often you got moments like this—peaceful and unhurried, shared with someone who seemed to understand the value of it.

The next day would bring more tourists, more shoots, and more challenges. But for now, standing on that rooftop with the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

gongyoo_official

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gongyoo_official ❤️

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yn.ph0tographs a dream come true!! hello Paris<3

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After a chaotic week in Paris filled with photo shoots at iconic landmarks, decadent pastries, and navigating swarms of tourists, the next stop on the list brought you back to familiar ground: Japan.

The flight landed smoothly, and soon enough, you were settled into a traditional house/hotel in Kyoto. Unlike Tokyo, Kyoto exuded a serene charm with its ancient temples, lush gardens, and calmer streets. Your room overlooked a tranquil koi pond, and the moment you stepped out into the gardens, the soft sound of flowing water seemed to wash away the exhaustion from Paris.

That evening, the team had dinner at a traditional ryokan, complete with tatami mats and kaiseki cuisine. Gong Yoo seemed to relish the slower pace, admiring the peaceful surroundings. “This feels like a reset,” he said during dinner, glancing at you across the low table. You nodded, setting down your chopsticks. “Kyoto has that effect. It’s hard to feel stressed when everything around you feels so timeless.”

The next day, your work began. Kyoto offered an entirely different aesthetic to capture—one steeped in history and natural beauty. The golden pavilion of Kinkaku-ji, the endless red torii gates of Fushimi Inari Shrine, and many more beautiful landmarks.

At one point, you found yourself photographing Gong Yoo at Arashiyama’s bamboo grove. The towering stalks of green stretched high above, creating a natural cathedral of light and shadows. You snapped a candid shot just as he glanced over his shoulder, the light catching his profile perfectly.

“That was a good one, wasn’t it?” he asked after the click, his lips curling into a knowing smile. You grinned, reviewing the image on your camera’s screen. “You’re a natural, Gong Yoo.” “Well, I’ve had some practice,” he teased, his tone light.

On your final evening in Kyoto, the team gathered on a rooftop overlooking the city. Lanterns glowed softly, and the distant hum of cicadas filled the air. Gong Yoo joined you as you leaned on the railing, your camera resting by your side.

“Thanks for making me look good,” he said, his voice warm. You laughed softly. “You make my job easy.” He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “I think you see more than most people. Not just with the camera, but... you notice things others might overlook.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Instead, you simply smiled, letting the quiet between you speak volumes.

gongyoo_official

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gongyooswife meow

ynstan mother is back home YAYAYAY

╰┈➤ yn.ph0tographs replied daddy’s home…

╰┈➤ ynstan replied ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

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yn.ph0tographs Home sweet home<3

tagged: @.gongyoo_official

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megumijjk we missed you :(((

user77636338902 gtfo

╰┈➤ yn.ph0tographs replied get a job or smth dude

╰┈➤ user77636338902 replied OMG Y/N IM SUCH A BIG FAN

╰┈➤ thanosxfork replied the switch up is crazy

Weeks passed and your camera only got fuller and fuller as you captured the most exotic and beautiful shots in places like Croatia— the rocky beaches along with the wonderful clear water of the sea enchanting you with its charm.

One day, the team arranged for a shoot on Lokrum Island, just a short boat ride from Dubrovnik. The beaches and lush greenery provided the perfect backdrop for the shoot. After the shoot, while the team packed up, Gong Yoo approached you, holding two gelatos he’d somehow managed to grab from a vendor on the island.

“Peace offering,” he said with a grin, handing you one. “For what?” You laughed as you accepted the gift. “For making you work so hard in this heat,” he said, gesturing toward your camera. “You deserve a break.” The two of you sat by the water’s edge, the sound of waves lapping against the rocks filling the air. He shared stories of his childhood summers by the beach, and you found yourself opening up about your family vacations around Korea.

By the time the boat returned to take the team back, you felt a warmth in your chest that had little to do with the sun.

Then came California. It was a blur of palm trees, coastal highways, and the vibrant energy of Hollywood. The team spent most of the time in Los Angeles, but the highlight was a road trip to Big Sur for a shoot along the rugged coastline.

One evening, after a sunset shoot by the cliffs, the two of you lingered while the rest of the team headed back to the lodge. The Pacific stretched endlessly before you, the waves crashing below in a soothing rhythm.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said, glancing at you. “Just taking it all in,” you replied, raising your camera to snap a candid shot of him against the fading light. “I’m still not used to the sudden moving around every two weeks.. I’ve never traveled this far before.” You said as you looked through the days pictures.

He smirked. “Do I look that interesting?” You lowered the camera, meeting his gaze. “More than you realize.”

The vulnerability in your tone seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the grass. Then he smiled—a soft, almost shy expression you saw many times before in your time as his photographer.

The Netherlands was the final destination, and Amsterdam was as picturesque as the postcards promised. The cobblestone streets, the narrow houses leaning toward the canals, and the fields of tulips outside the city made every corner feel like a story waiting to be told.

The two of you wandered into a quiet tulip field after a morning shoot. The colors were mesmerising, rows of red, yellow, and purple stretching endlessly.

“Now you’re the one being unusually quiet.” You said, elbowing him playfully.He looked at you, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I was just thinking about how much this summer has changed me. I thought this would just be another job, but...” He trailed off, then added softly, “I think I’ll miss this.”

“What, the traveling?” you teased lightly, though his tone had made your heart skip a beat. “No,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “This. You. I think I’ve never really enjoyed a work trip as much as this one.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His eyes traveled up and down— as if he was studying you; maybe even admiring you. He took a step closer, looking down at you with a sort of vulnerability you haven’t seen before even during your late night talks where you practically spilled your life out to him; but that didn’t really mean anything, did it?

“Well, at least you’ll have the photos to remember it all.” His smile was bittersweet as he looked away, his gaze settling on the endless tulips. “Yeah. But I don’t think the photos will ever capture it completely.”

gongyoo_official

liked by joostkleinfan0, netflixkr, yn.ph0tographs and 549K others

gongyoo_official last days of the summer spent in the netherlands ❤️

147K commented

September was just a week away, the time passed quite fast and so the team organised a farewell dinner which you didn’t really want to attend; partially because you didn’t want to say goodbye to this job.

You stepped out of the restaurant with a bitter look on your face, sitting down on a bench with a view of the river flowing through the streets with couples in love getting a tour on one of the many boats you saw that day. You fiddled with the camera in your hand, looking down and going through the thousands of pictures that had made their way into your heart.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice startled you, but of course you recognised where it came from. You nodded, and he sat down beside you, the space between you barely noticeable.

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” he began, his eyes fixed on the canal. “But I don’t think I can go back to how things were before this summer. You’ve changed the way I see things—the way I see myself.”

You turned to him, your breath catching at the raw sincerity in his voice. “[Name], I don’t know what this is, but I know it’s real. And I don’t want it to end just because the summer is over.” Your heart raced, his words sinking in like a tide rising to meet the shore. Slowly, you reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his. “Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you said softly. He smiled, intertwining your fingers with his as he pulled you into his shoulder, resting your head on it.

As the lanterns cast their warm glow over the water, the two of you sat in quiet understanding, the promise of something more lingering in the air. Summer may have ended, but you knew you weren’t leaving this job that easily.

gongyoo_official posted to their story

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[antinousletmehit]

HII!! (Same anon who sent the malewife Antinous and Calypso! Reader btw)

I had another idea and thought I should drop it here. So imagine reader is Odysseus' child right? When he get home, he slaughters all the suitors, but found Antinous missing. But then he heard his daughter call out to Antinous. Thinking the worst, Ody immediately went to her room.

However, when he arrived, he saw reader and Antinous casually making out despite the obvious bloodshed that was happening outside

Atp I should have a name, but I don't want to reveal my account btw I'm sorry if I send too much asks its just that there's no safe space for liking Antinous until I found this account 😞😭

Sighhhh we antinous fans are suffering

—-

The name cut through the noise like a blade, and Odysseus froze mid-step. His blood ran cold. His daughter’s voice—panicked and clear—called out the name of the very man who had disrespected his home, plotted to steal his wife, and helped lead the suitors. He dropped the lifeless suitor he had just skewered, his heart pounding with dread. Was Antinous harming her? Had that snake of a man dared lay a hand on his child?

Fury boiled in Odysseus’s veins as he followed the sound, his sword raised and ready to end another suitor if need be. He moved quickly, stepping out of the chaos and into a quieter corridor. Meanwhile, you and Antinous were locked in a world of your own. In the shadowed hallway, far from the carnage, Antinous had pulled you close. His lips pressed against yours, hands steady on your waist as if the war raging just feet away didn’t exist.

“This might be the last chance we get,” Antinous murmured against your lips, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You didn’t respond with words, just tightened your grip on his tunic and leaned in again. But you hadn’t meant to say his name aloud. Not like that. It slipped from your lips, heavy with emotion—and loud enough to echo down the corridor.

“Antinous,” you sighed as his lips brushed yours again.

Odysseus turned the corner at that exact moment, his eyes wild and sword drawn. “Where is he?” he growled, his gaze darting through the shadows for the fight he expected.

Instead, he froze.

You and Antinous broke apart in an instant, your faces flushed with guilt and panic. Antinous took a cautious step back, but his hands lingered at your waist, a defiant glint in his eye despite the bloodshed staining his clothes.

Odysseus’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief to sheer rage. His grip on his sword tightened as his gaze flickered between you and Antinous.

“You—my daughter—and him?” His voice was low, dangerously calm, which was somehow worse than yelling.

“Father, I—” you stammered, stepping in front of Antinous as if to shield him from the wrath you knew was coming.

Antinous, to his credit, didn’t cower. He straightened up, his usual arrogance peeking through despite the sweat and blood on his face. “I think we’re past the introductions, King Odysseus.”

That did it. Odysseus lunged forward, and you had to throw yourself between them, pressing your hands to your father’s chest to hold him back. “Don’t kill him!” you pleaded, panic lacing your voice.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t gut him right here,” Odysseus growled, his sword aimed at Antinous’s throat.

Antinous, ever the bold one, smirked. “Well, if you kill me, she’d be pretty upset.”

Odysseus’s glare could have melted stone. You, however, were too busy internally cursing Antinous for his inability to shut up when it mattered.

Odysseus stared at you for a long moment, his jaw tight and eyes blazing. Then, with a grunt of frustration, he lowered his sword.

“This isn’t over,” he growled, pointing a finger at Antinous before stalking back toward the main hall.

Antinous let out a breath he’d been holding, then glanced at you, his smirk returning. “I think that went well.”

You smacked his arm. “You’re lucky I love you, you idiot.”

“Clearly,” he teased, leaning in for another kiss.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, glancing nervously down the hallway where your father had disappeared.

[procyonloser]

(this was inspired by me watching got scenes)

Lucifer could feel the cold biting into his skin, until it hit his bones, but there was little reprieve from it - no comfort in between warm layers of silk and cloth. Just the vastness of the Great Hall, and roaring fires that did little but remind him of what he didn't have. When he was young, a boy playing between pillars and hiding behind statues to listen to his father speak and rule, he'd not felt it then.

It'd been hours of council meetings, of paperwork, and of hearing from his people, their problems and worries. The winter had been long, food was running slim, and their coffers were beginning to dry up. Lucifer had a beloved wine that had not touched his lips since the beginning of summer, and he missed it greatly, though at the very least his stomach was still full.

There was a sudden commotion as one of his commanders marched into the room, followed by lines of soldiers, all with flowing red capes that depicted his sigil on the back. Lucifer barely recognized most of them, he'd grown too old to know every single one of his soldiers.

"My Lord, raiders attempted to attack the most northern district of Pentagram. Unfortunately for them, one of our garrisons were making a routine patrol through the neighboring village. They were able to respond, and kill many of those that were part of the attack. We were able, however, to capture a man who seems to be their king." His commander spoke, after a deep bow before his king. Lucifer felt his eyebrows raise; it'd been a long few months of raiders stealing grain, weapons, lives, women.

"The raiders have no king, only distinct leaders of different factions." Carmilla spoke from her seat alongside Lucifer's council. "You can stop one, but another will arise. Don't mistake one success as a war now won."

Lucifer appreciated her words and experience in the matter, but it didn't change the success they had attained. He nodded his head at the woman, before turning to the commander.

"We will celebrate your success, but the Lady Carmine speaks truth - we shall not grow complacent, make certain to continue patrols in the area. It's possible that his men that fled or survived will want revenge."

At that, the commander made a queer expression, uneasy by something Lucifer said.

"Do you take issue with your king?" Lucifer asked after a moment, amusement on his tongue. He was used to being questioned, not the inspiring figure that his lady wife had once been. They saw him as weak.

"No, my Lord. It's... All but their king, their leader, whatever we may call him... They're all maidens."

Silence spread around the busy room.

"The raiders are... women?" Lucifer asked slowly, making certain he understood what was being said. The commander nodded briefly, and suddenly there was a flurry of whispers and gossip throughout the Lords and Ladies in the hall, and even amongst his council they seemed stunned. What monster would force young girls to fight their wars?

"Bring in their leader," Lucifer ordered.

The commanders dragged in a man in chains, and they needed more than one to do so. The man was tall, but not thin like those who struggled to find even corn on which to eat. There was no gauntness to his face, just a few bruises. He had brown hair, and wore a mix of furs and clothing that had most certainly been stolen from someone of higher standing. He'd woven fine royal purple fabric around his waist as what Lucifer could only interpret as an insult.

But, he was handsome, in his own way. Lucifer had taken many men to bed who were far less attractive, and they were all too eager to please their king. They were simple, easy things that filled a gap since his wife had passed. But, they weren't interesting, they weren't fun.

"I don't bow," the man said with a cocky grin as he reached the throne. The commander responded by kicking his knees out from under him, until the man fell. The look he sent the man promised a violent and bloody death, as though the raider wasn't the one in chains.

"That's enough," Lucifer said tiredly, gazing down at the man. "What is your name and title?"

"Adam, the First Man." He said instantly, to giggles in the crowd.

"Curious, I seem to be older than you - how exactly did you come by that title?" Lucifer asked with some humor, which got him a sharp grin in return.

"Cus none of you are real fuckin' men. You don't fight, you don't fuck, you just live in pretty castles. Look at you, a small man in all your fancy things. Pathetic. I bet you couldn't kill a hart, let alone a man." Adam jeered at him, and the crowds began to murmur.

"And yet you steal these pretty things, you rape, you kill." Lucifer shot back, getting to his feet, though it did little but demonstrate their height difference. "It seems to me as though you desire life of the gentleman, while you behave as a beast, first man."

Adam spit at his feet. "I don't rape, that's your soldiers."

Lucifer prickled at the implication. "You kidnap women and force them to fight for you."

"I do no such thing, they are offered the chance to live a more fulfilling life, and they come to me willing." Adam answered with a cocky smile. "You know, don't you? Little king? Since your dead wife was the one this nation truly feared, and you're just a placeholder."

Lucifer stared at him, before looking at his commander. "Remove his bindings. Don't question me. Remove them, and hand him your sword."

The room slowed to a stop, faces turning pale, confused. His council began to speak up, though those who knew him best kept quiet.

"If I best you, you will be my pet, you will no longer be a man. You will live out your days here, in the castle." Lucifer spoke easily, pulling his own sword from the hilt. Adam looked amused, eager, a bloodlust in his eyes. "If you kill me, well... You've killed the king. You'll be a legend, a hero, and everyone will know your name until the end of days."

"Deal." Adam breathed out, grabbing the sword eagerly. His stance was untrained, but strong. Proof he was a strong fighter.

But, Lucifer had been underestimated his entire life.

And he'd killed many men much larger.

He'd enjoy keeping Adam around.

[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 06: My Defender

Immediately after receiving the message, I hurried to the headmaster's office. There, I found Caleb waiting on one of the seats outside. His white uniform was covered in mud, he had bruises all over his body, one side of his face was slightly swollen, and there was a bleeding wound at the corner of his mouth.

"Caleb? What happened to you?"

I sat down beside him and held his hand timidly out of fear of hurting him. Caleb didn't look at me and turned his face away.

"Caleb?" I pulled his hand, still he refused to look at me. So I wrapped him in my arms. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Caleb sat still and let me hold him for a while longer. Even though he didn’t respond, I could guess what had happened on the way here. I overheard the other students gossiping that there had been a fight between Caleb and another fifth grader, I just didn’t know why.

After a while, Caleb seemed to calm down, he took my hand off and started talking:

“I’m fine. Gran is talking to the headmaster inside.”

“Why didn’t you go to the nurse’s office?”

“I’m all right.”

He responded, even waved his arms and legs to let me know that, unlike the other children who were crying and running into the nurse's office, he was still fine. But I just frowned at him.

“What happened?” I asked. Caleb had never caused trouble at school. He had always been a good student, a well-liked boy by both teachers and his peers. His energy was all for sports and extracurricular activities. I never imagined seeing him in a situation like this.

Caleb didn’t want to tell me, but after some pleading, he finally spoke: 

“They were talking bad about you.”

“Huh?” I was stunned. Caleb simply explained that not everyone in school liked me. They made up stories and said negative things about me out of envy. Those words reached Caleb and turned him enraged. As a result, he gave them all a short trip to the nurse's office.

After hearing this, I gently gripped his hand. The sight of him using Evol to hang a few kids on a tree must have been hilarious. I was very grateful that he was so protective of me. However, I wasn't planning to be the cause of his troubles.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” I said. “Because they’re not important to me. I only care what Caleb thinks of me…”

“You are the most wonderful person in my eyes!” Caleb replied without a thought. “If anyone dares to say anything bad about you, I’ll put them up the tree again—Ouch…”

Caleb grimaced and gently massaged the wound on his face. I pulled his hand away, saying, “When I fall or get hurt, you always blow on my wound, right?” I puffed out my cheeks and blew gently on the wound on Caleb’s face. HDespite being a little taken aback, he obediently sat still. “After that…”

I leaned a bit closer to him and delicately kissed his injured cheek, just like he had kissed the cut on my palm when I was careless before.

“This is a blessing of speedy recovery for you…”

*

* *

Opening the headmaster’s office door, I saw the kid sitting alone outside. One of his cheekbones was swollen, his clothes were untidy and covered in mud. He peered up at me with determination and a hint of guilt.

“Am I in trouble, Mom?”

In that child, I saw the imprints of the boy who had been by my side many years ago.

“Of course you are. Violence is not the way to solve problems. I've taught you better than that."

The child dropped his head, disappointed. My severe expression eased, and I softly ruffled his hair. "You also need to know that it was the right thing to do to stand up for your friend."

He glanced up at me with a cheerful expression. I added, “However, next time, remember to use your brain, not your brawn. You're just like your father.”

The child smiled and grasped my hand tightly. On the way home, an airship sailed overhead from Skyhaven. The little boy waved up and said:

“I think Dad will be home soon!”

“Let’s hurry then. How about we throw him a lovely welcome back party at home?"

[erisedofthanos]

I have a whole dialogue going on in my head and I just had to write it. I just love thanos <33333

POV: you and Thanos get together during mingle for some reason he is acting strange....

It was now the third game mingle, so far I had managed to make it through the last rounds and I made sure to stay close to at least a group to be prepared in case it was a high number. Suddenly, the platform stopped and the number was 2.

I immediately panicked, seeing everyone around me had already found a partner and others fighting against one another over the rooms. And many people running around. I then began to look around to find someone I could go with, since the time was almost up.

Suddenly I feel someone hold my hand pulling me close to them "you're coming with me" they said I look at whoever grabbed me and noticed that it was Thanos.

Before I had the chance to speak, he began to run holding my hand tight to make sure I didn't get separated from him.

We both ran as fast as we could, I look at the timer and only 10 seconds remained "we have ten seconds" I said.

After hearing me say that Thanos pushed 2 people out of the way, in order for us to get into the room first. As soon, as we were inside he closed the door immediately.

We both leaned against the wall trying to catch our breaths, I then look over at Thanos and I wonder, why he didn't go with his team? he was always with them, I never once saw him being away from them, especially from player 124 who he was happily dancing with earlier.

"Thanos where is your team?why are you here?" I asked there was silence and suddenly thanos begins to walk towards me I remain with my back against the wall, he doesn't respond and continues to get closer to me our faces only inches apart.

And we then meet each other's eyes. Thanos then begins to look down at your lips and eventually grabs the back of your head and presses his lips against yours kissing you roughly.

you felt confused as to why he was doing this, was he still high? you had never really spoken to him much since he was always with his team you had so many questions but right now you couldn’t lie to yourself because indeed you did feel something.

You let out soft moans as the kiss began to deepen he then picked you up by your waist and you wrapped your legs around him he then slips his tongue into your mouth which tasted the sweetest and you knew it was because of the pills you had seen him take before.

He then sets you down on the floor and takes off his jacket you do the same then you place them on the ground he then presses his lips against yours once again and eventually you lay down on the floor on top of your sweaters his lips then travel down your neck while his hands slowly traveled down the fabric of your pants.

You let your self get lost in his touch and you could feel how much he wanted you because of the way his hands traveled down to your body at this moment neither of you cared about anything else. And before you could finish what you started you were then interrupted by the announcement of asking everyone to return back you both then got up and grabbed your jackets and before you headed towards the door thanos stopped you pulling you close to him.

"Just to be clear, this isn't over we will finish what we started" He said he then gave me one last kiss before we headed out still holding me close to him so that we could remain together.

to be continued...

[thomamaru]

Drench in Apologies (Chapter 3)

Synopsis: Just one little text from him was enough to crumble down any healing progress you made. Now, there he was, standing in the rain. You still stood your ground and didn’t let yourself get swayed by his attempts to apologize.

Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, angst, fighting but not too intense, fluff at the end

previous chapter

The sound of relentless rain echoed through the streets as Rin stood in front of your apartment building, soaked to the bone.

His breathing was labored, each breath heavy with the weight of regret that had been gnawing at him since he saw you at the restaurant—with Sae.

That image hadn’t stopped replaying in his mind, each loop sharper than the last.

His fists trembled at his sides as his teal eyes fixed on your door. This wasn’t how he imagined things between you would ever end up. But he wasn’t about to let it end like this.

Not when every step of his journey, every ounce of his determination, had you at the heart of it.

When you opened the door, you were startled to see Rin standing there, drenched. For a moment, the sight of him rendered you silent, your chest tightening at his disheveled appearance.

But then the reminder of the months of emotional turmoil he had put you through came crashing down, hardening your expression.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, the chill in your tone matching the weather outside.

“I need to talk to you,” Rin said, his voice low but urgent. “Please.”

The word please carried more weight than you thought it would. Rin wasn’t the type to plead. But the bruises on your heart were still raw, and even now, you weren’t ready to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Rin. Go home.”

“I can’t,” he replied almost instantly, stepping closer but not enough to breach your space. “I… I can’t leave things like this.”

The storm inside you matched the one outside as you fought to stay resolute. “Now you can’t? After months of ignoring me, brushing me aside like I didn’t exist? You don’t get to decide when we talk, Rin. It doesn’t work like that.”

Rin flinched, your words hitting harder than he had anticipated. He nodded stiffly, water dripping from his bangs. “You’re right. I… I don’t deserve to be here. But I need you to understand—”

“No,” you interrupted sharply, stepping back as he tried to step forward again. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and think a simple explanation will fix everything.”

Rin stayed rooted to the spot, guilt weighing him down. “I know I hurt you,” he said softly, his usually composed voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to focus on training, to be stronger for you—”

“For me?” you cut him off, bitterness rising in your throat. “Don’t put this on me, Rin. If it was for me, you would’ve let me in instead of shutting me out. You didn’t even care about how I felt. Did you even think about how I spent weeks wondering why you suddenly stopped trying? Why you started to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

Rin’s fists clenched tightly, his nails biting into his palms. “I did care. I cared so much that it drove me insane. I felt like I wasn’t good enough—that I wasn’t giving you what you deserved. And the only way I knew how to fix that was to focus on being better at everything. I thought I’d lose you if I didn’t.”

“Rin,” you said quietly, your voice thick with unshed tears. “You lost me anyway.”

The words hung between you like a lead weight, crushing whatever fragile hope Rin had carried with him to your doorstep. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself speechless, every word dying before it could leave his lips.

You turned away, arms wrapping around yourself like a shield against the cold. “Do you know how hard it was for me to see you at that match? To call out your name and hope you’d finally look at me the way you used to? I’ve spent months convincing myself that maybe I was the one who failed. Maybe I didn’t support you enough or didn’t try hard enough.”

Rin’s hands reached out but dropped back to his sides, his voice thick with regret. “You never failed me. I failed you.”

You shook your head, bitterness creeping into your tone. “What’s worse is that after everything, the only reason you’re here now is because you saw me with your brother. What was it, Rin? Jealousy? Possessiveness? Or did Sae finally show me the kind of attention you should’ve been giving all along?”

Rin’s face twisted, a mixture of guilt and anger flashing in his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s true, isn’t it? You didn’t care until someone else looked at me.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Rin said firmly, his voice cracking under the strain. “I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of losing you completely. Because I—” He broke off, exhaling shakily. “Because I still love you.”

Your heart clenched at his confession, but the sting of the past months didn’t let you soften just yet. “If you really loved me, Rin, you wouldn’t have treated me like an afterthought.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the tension between you reached its peak. The rain had seeped into your entryway, water pooling around Rin’s feet, but neither of you cared.

Rin ran a hand through his damp hair, frustrated beyond measure. “I know I messed up. I was so focused on beating Sae and Isagi that I didn’t realize I was losing the most important person in my life. I… I got caught up in my own selfishness, and I’m sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

His words broke something inside of you—months of built-up anger and sadness dissolving into bittersweet pain.

Before you could reply, Rin suddenly stepped closer and cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Please,” he whispered. “Just let me prove to you that I can do better. That I will do better.”

You opened your mouth to speak but froze when Rin leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

It wasn’t like the soft kisses from your earlier days together. It was raw and urgent, filled with the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, the warmth of his lips reminding you of everything you had once loved about him.

When Rin pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with unspoken promises. “I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again. And I’ll wait however long it takes. But please, just give me the chance.”

You exhaled shakily, your heart torn between the ache of betrayal and the hope of rekindling what you’d lost. “It’s not going to be easy, Rin.”

“I don’t want easy,” he said softly. “I just want you.”

The road ahead wouldn’t be simple, but as Rin pulled you into a tight embrace, you felt a small flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, the pieces of your shattered relationship could be mended. And even if it took time, you were willing to try.

---

Rin wasn't known for surprises, which was why you did a double-take when you opened your front door to see him standing there with flowers in his hands.

"Hey," he greeted casually, but the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks betrayed his usual composed demeanor. He held out the bouquet—your favorite flowers, no less—looking everywhere but at you as he handed them over.

"Rin..." Your voice trailed off, surprise evident in your tone as you accepted the bouquet. They were fresh, vibrant, and so thoughtful it almost didn’t seem real.

"They’re for you," he clarified needlessly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

A small laugh bubbled up from your chest as you brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their scent. "Thank you. I wasn’t expecting this at all."

He shrugged as if brushing it off, but you caught the slight upward twitch of his lips. "I thought you deserved it. Can I come in?"

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Rin walked in, taking his usual spot on your couch, his body language relaxed yet hesitant, as if unsure of what to say or do next. You quickly placed the flowers in a vase, letting the water fill as you sneaked occasional glances at him.

When you returned, he was looking out the window, the soft glow of the room's light illuminating his sharp profile. He seemed far away for a moment before he turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been doing okay, right?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He exhaled through his nose and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just... I know the last few months weren’t great. I wasn’t great.”

You sat next to him, setting the vase of flowers on the table. The distance between you was minimal, the warmth of his presence a familiar comfort.

“Rin,” you began softly, “we’ve been over this. You don’t have to keep apologizing for the past. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little sharper than intended. His jaw tightened, but he softened quickly, his head dipping. “But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for how I made you feel.”

You tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. “Then don’t make the same mistakes again. That’s all I want.”

For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of the rain tapping against the window. Rin straightened slightly, his fingers brushing the edge of his knee nervously. He finally met your eyes, the intensity in them making your breath catch.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice quieter now but filled with conviction. “I’ll do better. For you.”

There was something so sincere in the way he said it that your chest ached—not from sadness, but from how much you cared for him.

“Good.” You smiled softly. “Because I’m not giving you an out next time.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rare. “Duly noted.”

You settled back against the couch, your shoulder brushing against his. For the first time in a long while, it felt like the air between you two wasn’t heavy with words unsaid or hurt feelings lingering in the background.

As the rain outside slowed to a drizzle, Rin’s hand slipped across the space between you, brushing against yours before interlocking your fingers. The action was so simple yet felt so significant.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning back against the couch and looking toward the ceiling, “picking those flowers wasn’t easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Did you agonize over it for hours?”

His lips quirked in a faint smirk, the usual Rin humor breaking through. “Let’s just say I asked someone for help, and it was a mistake.”

You laughed at his exasperated expression. “Well, they’re perfect. And honestly? I’m impressed you even thought to bring flowers.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smile. “Special occasion.”

“And what’s the occasion?” you teased, leaning into his side slightly.

He turned his head to you, his gaze softer now. “You.”

The single word hung in the air, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flushed through your chest. You felt his fingers squeeze yours, grounding you in the moment.

“I’m really glad we’re okay again,” you whispered.

“Me too,” Rin admitted, his voice quiet yet steady. His head tilted to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

And as he sat beside you, fingers intertwined with yours and the soft rhythm of the rain outside, you felt it too—peace, understanding, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going anywhere. Rin Itoshi was here, now, with you. And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

Notes: last parttt, thank you so much for the support i'm crying btw I'm accepting any request, any character will <33

Taglist: @hotdogkongmalaki @mitsurimoshi @rroxii @x-vivi-v @ash1 @kimura-uzuri

[angelofthenight01]

Operation Paws Rescue

Kate Bishop x Reader

genre: fluff     ||     warnings: none 

Summary: you and Kate are on a mission to save some adorable dogs.

The Avengers had fought many battles, saved the world more times than anyone could count, and taken on threats that no one else dared face. But today? Today was different.

Kate Bishop stood confidently in the center of the briefing room, her purple bow slung over her shoulder, hands on her hips, looking far too serious for the task at hand.

“We’re rescuing dogs,” she announced with a perfectly straight face.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” Kate nodded, her tone unwavering. “Super important mission. Top-secret, high-stakes stuff.”

There were a few exchanged glances in the room, but none of the Avengers seemed to argue with her. Clint Barton was grinning behind his coffee cup, Tony Stark was scrolling through his phone (probably ordering more tech), and even Natasha gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was clear that no one was going to question Kate’s mission. It was too ridiculous, too adorable to resist.

You raised an eyebrow. “So... what’s the mission exactly?”

Kate leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “There’s an underground dog-fighting ring in the city. The pups are being held captive and used for illegal matches. They need to be rescued, and I’m the only one who can do it.” She swung the bow dramatically. “And I need a partner.”

You shot her a half-smile. “You want me to help you rescue... dogs?”

“Yup. We’re going undercover as dog trainers. I have my credentials.” She pulled out a laminated ID that read “Top-tier Dog Trainer Extraordinaire” with an absurdly cute photo of her and a Golden Retriever.

“Wait,” you asked, chuckling. “You’re a certified dog trainer?”

Kate’s eyes sparkled. “Well... it’s a temporary certification. But I’ve been around enough dogs that I think I can wing it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright. I’m in. Let’s go save some dogs.”

* * * 

When you and Kate arrived at the shady warehouse on the outskirts of the city, she wasted no time. She pulled a pair of ridiculous sunglasses out of her bag, placing them firmly on her face as she strolled up to the entrance like she owned the place.

You followed, trying to match her confidence but realizing you probably looked more like a confused civilian than a secret agent.

“We're here to assess the dogs,” Kate said to the guard at the door. The man raised an eyebrow, looking Kate up and down like he was questioning her credibility.

Kate smiled brightly, holding up her fake ID. “I’m a professional. We’re here for a very important inspection.”

The guard squinted at the ID, shrugged, and opened the door without saying another word. Kate’s plan was working better than you expected.

Inside, the warehouse was dark, full of cages with barking dogs. Some were huge, others tiny, and they were all either pacing anxiously or wagging their tails at the sight of you both.

Kate immediately dropped to her knees, pulling out a bag of dog treats she had smuggled in her jacket. “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed, reaching for a scruffy-looking terrier who immediately jumped into her arms, tail wagging like mad.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I swear, you’re more excited about the dogs than the mission.”

She grinned up at you while holding the terrier in her arms like it was a prize. “I’m just really good at multitasking. Saving the world and making new dog friends.”

Before you could respond, a loud crash came from the back of the warehouse, and two massive guard dogs appeared, their growls echoing across the room.

Kate immediately stood up, her eyes locking onto the beasts. “Okay, I got this. You handle the backup.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Backup? You just want me to… what? Do what?”

Kate was already on the move, pulling an arsenal of dog treats from her bag, each one more extravagant than the last—peanut butter bones, bacon-flavored chews, and something called a "mega squirrel snack" (which, frankly, sounded terrifying).

“Distract them with the treats! I’ll deal with the big guy.”

You blinked. “I— what?!”

With the guard dogs distracted by Kate’s incredible supply of snacks, you made a beeline for the smaller cages, unlocking them and ushering the dogs out with a lot of awkward coaxing. Some of them were scared, others just wanted pets. It wasn’t exactly glamorous, but you were doing your part.

Meanwhile, Kate had managed to convince the giant dogs to sit in front of her by bribing them with an entire bag of peanut butter biscuits. “You see, I’m really good with animals,” she said proudly, holding one of the dogs’ faces between her hands like it was a tiny puppy.

You just shook your head, watching the scene unfold. Only Kate Bishop would think she could single-handedly calm down guard dogs with treats and an overwhelming amount of charm.

Eventually, all the dogs were freed. You and Kate both knelt down to meet them, laughing as they swarmed around you. “Mission accomplished!” Kate cheered, holding a small, fluffy dog over her shoulder. “We did it, partner. We saved them!”

You smiled, scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. “Yeah, we make a pretty good team.”

Kate’s grin softened for a moment, the satisfaction of a job well done settling in. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said sincerely, then added with a wink, “Plus, you look pretty cute with a bunch of dogs around you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, Bishop.”

As the dogs wagged their tails around you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, saving the world wasn’t always about facing down supervillains or alien invasions. Sometimes, it was about saving a bunch of adorable, slightly confused pups from a bad situation—and having a hell of a good time doing it with Kate Bishop.

The mission was definitely a success.

[secretly-tword-obsessed]

i saw your lee!thanos fic, aaaand... i saw you left a cliffhanger about potential lee!in-ho.. see... this man is so cute (evil, but cute) maybe could you make a part 2 on the man getting wrecked? <3 (if possible, gi-hun can appear!!) ily /p /serious

Oh okay! Tysm - both for the compliment and the request. I had so much fun writing this and hope you enjoy reading it!

Title: Everyone Everyone

Summary: After his plan to bring Thanos down a few pegs backfires, In-Ho tries everything he can to defend himself

Implied shipping of Gi-Hun and In-Ho but it can also be read as platonic!

Warning: This is a tickle fic. If you are not a tickle blog, DNI.

In-Ho's plan was successful. At first. He'd exposed 230's vulnerability, embarrassed him in front of his allies and possibly every single player. That would teach him for acting like an indestructible bitch all the time. Now he'd both stopped Thanos from attacking another player and disrupted his unhinged self-obsession.

Yet, in the process, the Frontman may have accidentally exposed one of his own vulnerabilities. He mentally slapped himself in the head for it, yet he maintained his calm and unbothered demeanor. Well, mostly - a slight blush was growing on his cheeks as Dae-Ho had just asked about this weakness. How could he lie logically?

"No, I'm not, I was just saying that most people are"

"Nah-ah", Jung-Bae interrupted, patting Dae-Ho on the back as if to loyally demonstrate his allegiance to the 'Player 001 is definitely lying' side of the argument; "You said that everyone was ticklish, everyone and most people are two very different things"

Shit. Now In-Ho needed an ally of his own. He turned his head around to Gi-Hun, who was sitting in the middle of his bed, his mind wondering through space.

"Hey, 456", he called, causing Gi-Hun's eyes to widen in surprise - as if he had just been dragged back to Earth from Mars.

"Yes", he responded hesitantly and somberly. In-Ho almost felt bad for putting this poor bloke back in the games. Almost.

"You know figure of speech right? When somebody says that everyone is something, they usually mean most people. These two former marines are claiming the two are synonymous".

Gi-Hun just looked at his new friendly acquaintance in confusion. This was probably the last thing he thought his fellow player would have needed him for. He heard Dae-Ho whisper to Jung-Bae, "The fuck does synonymous mean?"

Finally, Gi-Hun said something. The man had obviously sensed the ramifications of picking a side in this argument, so he said, "Well, it depends on the context".

Dae-Ho smirked, "Oh come on Young-Il", he teased, "Tell him the context!"

Damn it. The Frontman's whole identity was a lie - he had to be able to conceal his sensitivity.

"Alright", he said in resignation, "Maybe lets just drop it".

"O-ho, I don't think so", Jung-Bae chuckled, stepping closer to the Frontman so that he was almost backed against the metal bunk behind him.

"Yeah, don't think your getting away that easy", Dae-Ho added, stepping toward him from the other side.

Gi-Hun, completely oblivious to everything that had just happened around him, felt a concern rising in him. The intrusive worries seemingly flooded from all directions - Are they about to fight? My friends? Does this mean I'm allied with the wrong people? Would the fight have been my fault? I should have just kept my mouth shut. I-"

But than the man noticed something. As Jung-Bae and Dae-Ho surrounded him, stalking up menacingly, Player 001 actually had the remnants of a smile on his face, as if the anticipation excited him. Moreover, he could see a blush running down his cheeks. Weird. Although he'd never admit it out loud, he thought that Young-Il looked kind of cute in this state.

"Come on guys", he watched 001 defend himself, "We can talk about this".

"Why are you smiling?", Gi-Hun interjected.

Dae-Ho's grin widened, "Yeah, tell Mr 456 why your smiling why don't you?"

Player 001 could only look at him, almost pleadingly. Than, in a split second, Jung-Bae and Dae-Ho launched forward, and Young-Il burst into high pitched giggles.

As soon as he figured out what was happening, Gi-Hun sighed. And, for the first time in a while, he smiled. All they were doing was a bit of harmless tickling - Dae-Ho scribbling at the man's left side while Jung-Bae poked around his belly. Young-Il was letting out the most innocent giggles imaginable, squirming desperately to get away to no avail. Gi-Gun hadn't remembered the last time he'd seen or experienced such a display, but something about player 001's laugh was contagious - something about the playful atmosphere lifted his sunken spirits.

"Liar liar pants on fire!", Dae-Ho remarked, switching his tactic from scribbles to light pokes.

"Nohohoho! Dohohon't!"

Dae-Ho raised an eyebrow, poking faster and adding a few gentle squeezes to his victim's hips, "Don't what?"

"Tihihihickle me!", In-Ho cried, and Gi-Hun saw his eyes widened as he recognized his mistake.

The two ex-marines had the most shit-eating grins on their faces.

"Tickle you? Where?", Jung-Bae asked in feigned innocence, jabbing his hand under Young-Il's arms. That was when the man cracked.

"NAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! PLEHEHEASE!"

"We're merely doing what you asked", Jung-Bae commented, as if he was stating any other fact and not reducing his fellow player to a hysterical cackling fit.

Gi-Hun watched the scene unfold, seeing how player 001 had absolutely lost his shit, envious that player 001 was being completely distracted from the games - all the man's energy evidently focused on trying to knock off his attackers, not on wondering weather he'd live to see another day or help his wife and meet his child.

"Gi-Hun", Dae-Ho said, distracting him from his thoughts, "Quit daydreaming and give us a hahand! here! The vihictim's escahaping!"

Gi-Hun noticed that Young-Il had switched his mode of defense, trying to plow forward to get away instead of escape through one of his left or right side. As the two ex-marines had been concentrated on blocking his exit through those two locations, they were losing their grip on him as he seized this third.

Oh, what the heck. Gi-Hun hadn't remembered the last time he'd been so carefree. He'd help his friends.

Gi-Hun lunged into Young-Il's stomach, squeezing at it gently yet purposefully.

Meanwhile, In-Ho was absolutely losing it. He was being attacked from three angles, and laughing uncontrollably like a child, and he had no chance of saving himself. Not to mention the intensity of the ticklish feeling that buzzed through his stomach, sides and - worst of all - under his arms. He remembered when his brother had tickled him there when they were both young adults, attempting to embarrass him infront of a girl he was trying to flirt with. The noises he made now were as nutty and uncontrollable as they were back than. Moreover, he wasn't entirely sure he could trust these three men to stop any time soon, and he wasn't sure of how much more he could take.

"QUIHIHIHIT IT!", he begged, trying to grab at Gi-Hun's wrists but continually missing.

"Only when you admit how ticklish you are!", Dae-Ho challenged, making the Frontman even more squirmy at the mention of the word.

"EHEVEHEHERYOHOHONE IS!", he retorted, defending his dignity to the very end.

"Everyone everyone? Or most people?", Gi-Hun teased.

Man, the Frontman had only ever seen this guy sad, or emotionless, or angry. He had never seen him this joyous. He wasn't supposed to be having fun during these games. In the second game, he had to remember to break the man's spirit somehow. But he couldn't come up with a coherent plan while he was being tickled to bits.

"EVEHEHERYONE EVERYONE!", he cried out desperately, "IHIHIHIN - AHAHAHA - INCLUDING MEHEHE!"

Exchanging satisfied glances, his three attackers let up. In-Ho collapsed onto the bed behind him, catching his breath.

"You have a cute laugh", Gi-Hun said absentmindedly. Everyone suddenly turned to him, making him go dark crimson.

"N-nothing".

Hope you enjoyed (:

Keep Giggling!!!

[pureshoney]

"up my sinning game? who said i want to do that, baby? maybe this was also me turning my life around … maybe this was my way of trying to become a man of faith. a man of god …" but abel isn't abel to finish saying the line with a straight face because it would be hell on earth before abel gave his life to the church. actually, it wouldn't be hell on earth; it would be a cold day in hell. and it's not that abel was a bad person, because he wasn't. everyone had to make a living, and his just somehow didn't precisely align with specific rules in the bible. but fuck does he make a shit ton of money, and realistically, abel did good too. like the fact that he's only ever killed other criminals, so god should be thanking him. he was fucking robin hood. "such a filthy girl, wanting daddy to buy you a nun outfit. you have no shame, do you?" sucks his teeth as if her were actually reprimanding his girl, but that couldn't be further from the truth. it's one of his favorite parts about ainsley, how damn slutty she could get when she was horny. currently had her bent over the cold floor of a church and she was still asking to fulfill even more lewd fantasies. abel syncs the pushing of his thumb inside her ass with the stroke of his cock, groaning at the way she reacts to him. "you like that, princess? wish i had a fuckin' toy to fill you up with … stretch both these holes out at once," have femme fuck her mouth with her slender fingers too. "need me to say it every day?" the words come out rougher than he intends, his throat tight with emotions he's still learning to express. part of him wants to look away from the raw joy on her face - it's almost too much, seeing how deeply his confession affects her. he's not used to being this exposed, this vulnerable, and there's still that nagging voice telling him to pull back, to guard himself. but he can't. not when she's responding like that like he's given her something precious. his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for her, steadying himself with the familiar touch. "i…" swallows hard. "yeah. every day. if that's what you want." the words feel clumsy on his tongue, but they're honest. he's done fighting this, pretending she hasn't wholly undone every wall he's ever built. his grasp on her body is much more tender now, caring instead of possessive. "i would if i could, my favorite fuckin' place to be," he assures, beginning to feel his cock go limp inside of her warmth. hues catch hers when she turns around, "i do get lonely in that office … but when i'm there, i actually have work to do, baby. can't have you waltzing around distracting me," with that abel begins to lull his hips backward and moving to lay down beside her instead. "won't ever get anything done if you come around the club often."

if ainsley wasn't currently wiping the pristine floor with her cheek she would have shot her man the most disbelieving of looks. "baby ... if you think that then you need to up your sinning game, don't you? been taking it a little too easy?" redhead retorts, a sweet little twist of her hips to follow her teasing words. she knew abel was no saint nor a slacker, he'd made a name for himself, proven himself worthy of sitting in that office and behind that desk. "i'll keep all of it on, daddy. i'm gonna be the best most devout nun you've ever fucked", giggles erupt breathlessly from her mouth, heart pounding as if she's running a marathon as opposed to being fucked on the floor of a church. body tightens as he pushes at her tightest hole, elongated groan escaping as she suddenly pictures him taking her puckered ass, that skimpy little costume flapping up against her back as he stretches her out. how long has she waited for abel to admit to how he felt? definitely far too long, but she's more than willing to overlook it now as the words spill from his mouth. shel melts against the ground, a blissful smile spreading across her lips as she stores those words into her memory. when they're fucking like this they're as honest and vulnerable as two people can be, there's no secrets anymore, no distance pushed between them and every single part of her alights at hearing his admission — knowing he's not the type of man to say such heavy things without meaning them. "fuck abel ... god, i need you to say that to me every day." his cum filling her up is the perfect way to punctuate his statement, body warming to dangerous levels as she continues to buck back against him, their highs mingling and co-existing in the sweetest of ways. as the couple still ainsley exhales shakily, chest heaving as he remains seated within her drippy cunt. "mm, yeah daddy. want it in me all the time, you know i'd keep it hard", sweating redhead laughs, finally able to look back at her man to give him a sultry and knowing look. she devours him with her eyes, that chiseled face and tense jaw, the harsh rise and fall of his chest — he's the epitome of a fallen angel. "but maybe we can reach an agreement? bet you get lonely in that office of yours, right?" fuck, she can't remember ever feeling so good after an orgasm, like she was floating, fingers skimming the clouds as she looks toward him with red rimmed hues and smeared makeup.