#heat. my head would be exhausted too though. from the heat.

[neverfeltthewinterquitesodead]

fuck new jersey

[mariyekos]

Thoughts on the new DMC trailer?

Going to be honest I haven't watched any trailers since the trailer at the Game Awards (or whichever one I have those 2 breakdown posts for) 😅 I keep seeing the trailer announcements when I don't have my headphones on me, and I've been behind on watching them once I have the time... maybe tomorrow I'll finally get to watching them! Tonight I'm dead tired so I don't think I'd be in much of a good mood and I don't want to start off on the wrong foot, so to speak. When I watch them I can make a write up on it though! Would probably be fun.

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

"suck my dick." "eat my ass."

you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.

it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,

and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.

you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.

"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."

"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.

you rolled your eyes.

"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."

and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.

ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.

that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.

you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.

the important file, you knew you had just printed it.

"looking for this?"

it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.

your stomach dropped. no fucking way.

"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."

"gi-give me that!"

he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.

you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.

the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.

"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."

your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.

ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...

very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.

your jaw dropped. "you-"

"i- i didn't-"

then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.

you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.

he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.

ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.

"let go!"

"not a chance."

he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.

you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.

he's still a guy after all.

your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,

you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.

the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.

like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.

ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.

you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.

"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.

"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.

"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.

ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.

he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.

you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.

and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?

so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.

you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.

maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.

ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."

yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.

your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.

ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.

you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.

and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.

ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.

"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.

his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.

"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."

ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.

"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."

and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.

the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.

ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"

his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.

your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.

you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.

"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.

and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.

his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.

he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.

...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.

you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.

then, he held something up between his fingers.

"can i keep these?"

your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.

you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.

he just laughed and shook his head.

maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.

next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.

your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.

ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.

your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."

he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.

then he caught you alone.

you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.

ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.

"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"

you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming, psycho."

liar.

the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.

so what happened?

"remember, i still got the files."

you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.

he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."

"just bring it here!"

"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."

you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.

ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.

you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"

he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.

you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.

so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.

ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.

his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.

you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"

ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."

"how do i know you're not lying?"

he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.

"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."

you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.

his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.

the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.

your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"

ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.

he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.

your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.

his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.

his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.

you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.

and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.

you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,

"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.

and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.

you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.

"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.

"you were close, right?"

"you think you're funny?" he panted.

you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.

his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"

"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.

"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,

he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.

and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.

a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.

you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.

he really did a number on you.

"think we can handle another round here?"

now he had your cheek pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, his large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.

you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.

you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers kept slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.

the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.

next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.

"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.

you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."

he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.

"i gotta go home."

he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."

his hand slid over your thigh.

"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.

ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.

"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."

"you're not."

sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."

...but he can fuck you back to sleep.

ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."

later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.

your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.

a dog.

a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.

"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."

"your dog?"

"that's my child."

you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"

"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."

you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.

"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"

the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."

"excuse me?"

the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"

ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.

"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."

bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.

ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.

like actually smiling.

you swallowed hard, your face heating up.

was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?

the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?

it really doesn't feel real.

you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.

ni-ki looked at you, "what?"

you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."

ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."

and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.

a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

[tender-rosiey]

req- jujutsu characters physically straining themselves and asking yn for help

take care:)

"I'M ONE CRAMP AWAY FROM A MELTDOWN"

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji physically straining themselves and asking for help

GOJO SATORU:

satoru is sprawled on the floor, looking like he’s been hit by a truck, though you know he’s just playing it up.

his dramatic groans echo around the room, the kind that would make anyone believe he’s on the verge of death.

“wifeyyyy,” he groans, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes as he lays flat on his back. “I think I’m dying.”

you glance at him, deadpan. “from what, exactly?”

“from sheer exhaustion,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock despair. “it’s the worst kind of pain. the kind you can’t fight.”

you cross your arms, watching him for a moment. “really? because I’m pretty sure you’re exaggerating.”

“exaggerating?”

satoru lifts his hand weakly, like he’s reaching out for help. “I wish I were. But no, sweetheart, this is real. I’ve given everything to protect this world, and now—now I’m paying the price.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes, but you can’t help but feel a little amused by his theatrics.

still, there’s no denying that he’s probably worn out from the mission, even if he’s acting like a drama king about it.

“alright, alright,” you say, bending down next to him. “but if you’re truly in this much pain, maybe you should let me help you.”

his eyes flash with relief the moment you say that. he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. “oh, you’re such a lifesaver, wifey. I knew I could count on you.”

you smirk, kneeling next to him. “I’m not sure how much I can help with your exaggerated suffering, but I’ll give it a shot.”

satoru immediately sits up, all too eager, his arm still draped over your shoulder as if he’s the one about to collapse at any second.

you guide him onto the couch, a little more forcefully than he probably expected. he lets out an exaggerated gasp of thanks, making a show of how much effort it took.

“now, my shoulders,” he says, voice full of mock desperation, “they’re absolutely killing me. no one has shoulders as heavy as mine.”

you raise an eyebrow but don’t argue. “I can’t believe I love you,” you mutter, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

you start massaging gently, fingers working through the tight muscles that are starting to give way beneath your touch.

satoru’s whole body seems to relax under your hands.

“mmm, that’s the stuff,” he sighs dramatically, his head tilting back as if you’ve just performed some kind of miracle. “you’re so good at this. how do you manage to be perfect in every way?”

you roll your eyes, but your hands keep working, pressing into the sore muscles along his shoulder blades.

his response is immediate—he melts further into the couch, eyes half-lidded as he hums with contentment.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he mutters. “this is pure bliss, sweets. no one else could do this to me like you do.”

“yeah, yeah,” you say, giving him a kiss on his cheek that makes him melt yet again against the couch.

GETO SUGURU:

suguru stumbles into the living room, looking completely drained, his shoulders sagging as he lets out a soft groan.

he rubs his eyes before glancing at you. "I think I’ll just take a bath and call it a day."

you raise an eyebrow, already sensing his exhaustion. "you sure? I could help, you know."

suguru shakes his head, grinning weakly. "I’m fine. Really. I can manage."

a few moments later, suguru is in the warm bath, steam rising lazily from the water.

he leans back, letting his muscles relax as he sinks into the tub, his body visibly easing into the heat. you stand behind him, fingers gently working through his hair, lathering the shampoo into his scalp.

the soft scent of lavender fills the air, mixing with the quiet splashing of water as your hands move through his hair.

suguru sighs, his body melting into the heat. "I am a weak man," he mutters.

you let out a small laugh, fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. his muscles are finally unwinding, and you can feel the weight of his day leaving him, bit by bit.

"yeah?" you tease softly, grinning. "but, you know, I think I’m pretty good at this, huh?"

he chuckles lazily, his voice low and relaxed. "you’re amazing," he admits, his tone affectionate. "I’m lucky to have you around."

you glance at him, still working through his hair, and playfully raise an eyebrow. "how about you? how was your day?"

suguru lets out a small sigh, clearly unwinding further at the sound of your voice.

“long. you know how it is. a million things to do and never enough time for it." he grins a little. "but it’s always better when I’m with you."

you shake your head, laughing softly. "you’re lucky I’ve got the patience to deal with you."

suguru raises a hand, giving a lazy wave. "You’re doing more than that. I’m starting to think you could make a career out of this."

you smirk, rubbing the shampoo deeper into his hair. "please, I have better things to do than take care of you all the time."

suguru cracks an eye open, a playful glint shining through. he reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently. "I don’t know about that. this is pretty nice."

you shrug casually, your smile warm. "someone’s got to look after you."

the bath continues in peaceful silence for a while, only the sounds of water splashing softly around you.

suguru’s body relaxes further, his tense muscles finally letting go. he sinks deeper into the tub, eyes closed again, a contented smile on his lips.

"thanks," he says quietly.

you continue washing his hair, the smile on your face softening. "anytime, silly.”

suguru chuckles softly, "you know, you’re kind of perfect."

you roll your eyes, but your fingers never stop working through his hair. "you’re delirious, suguru. stop with the nonsense."

suguru gives a lazy smile, his eyes still closed. "no, I mean it. you’re beautiful, and I’m lucky you married me, my beautiful, pretty, kind—"

before he can say anything else, you splash him with water. "okay, okay! enough with the sappy stuff!"

NANAMI KENTO:

the sound of a low, frustrated sigh greets you as you walk into the living room.

you spot kento sitting on the floor, his back straight against the couch, head tilted slightly as though trying to work out a knot in his neck.

his usual composed expression is marred with a faint furrow of irritation.

“kento?” you call, stepping closer. “why are you sitting on the floor like someone left you there?”

“it’s nothing,” he replies too quickly, brushing off the question. but the way his hand instinctively moves to rub the back of his neck betrays him. “just…tired.”

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “tired? or is this about your neck? because you’ve been hunched over paperwork for hours, haven’t you?”

kento doesn’t answer right away, but his silence is telling.

he sighs and tilts his head back to meet your gaze, looking more like the overworked salaryman he used to be before he rejoined jujutsu tech.

“It’s just a bit stiff. I’ll manage.”

“oh, you’ll manage,” you echo, crouching down in front of him. “right up until you can’t turn your head tomorrow. then what?”

he narrows his eyes slightly, as if to say I’m not that fragile, but you cut him off before he can protest.

“kento,” you say firmly, softening your tone, “you’re literally built like a tank, but even tanks need maintenance. let me help.”

“I don’t want to bother you,” he mutters, his voice quiet but sincere. “you’ve had a long day too.”

“and yet I have plenty of energy to take care of my husband,” you reply, smirking. “now come on, just humor me.”

kento hesitates for a moment. eventually, he relents with a soft sigh. “fine.”

you shift to kneel behind him, your fingers already reaching for the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

“lean forward a bit,” you instruct, and when he does, you gently press your thumbs into the tight spots, working in slow, deliberate circles.

kento lets out a low, contented hum that sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“see?” you tease, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “not so bad, right?”

“it’s…enjoyable,” he says, though his voice carries a faint warmth that tells you he’s enjoying this far more than he’s letting on.

you chuckle, your hands moving to his shoulders. “you know, I’d say you owe me for this, but I think this is my repayment.”

“repayment for what?”

“for saving you,” you quip, grinning. “because if you’d stayed like that any longer, you’d have turned into a statue.”

kento exhales a quiet laugh, his head tilting slightly as your fingers find another sore spot. “you’re relentless.”

“only because I love you,” you reply with a wink, leaning forward to press your cheek against his for a moment.

he reaches up, catching one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “and I love you too.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

sukuna’s broad frame fills the doorway as he strides into the room, his bloodstained robes trailing behind him.

you glance up from your seat, unimpressed by the spectacle. it’s the usual aftermath of his “excursions.”

he’s all sharp angles and arrogance, but there’s a stiffness in his movements that you don’t miss.

“back already?” you ask, arching a brow as you sip your tea.

he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “they were weaklings. barely worth my time.”

yet, as he lowers himself onto a cushion with a low grunt, his shoulders twitch ever so slightly. he rolls one, then the other, his jaw tightening just enough for you to catch it.

“something wrong?” you ask, your tone feigning innocence, though your sharp gaze betrays your amusement.

“watch yourself,” he warns, crimson eyes narrowing. “you forget who you’re speaking to.”

“hard to forget when you insist on reminding me every other breath,” you reply dryly, setting your cup down and standing.

“but I’m also observant enough to know when you’re too proud to admit you’re in pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” he snaps, though the way his hand instinctively moves to his neck betrays him.

“of course not,” you agree, stepping closer with a smug tilt of your head. “the great sukuna couldn’t possibly be sore after annihilating half the countryside.”

he glares at you, his pride clearly battling the ache in his shoulders. “you’re playing with fire, woman.”

“and yet you haven’t burned me yet,” you counter with a sly smile. “turn around.”

he doesn’t move, his jaw tightening as if to challenge you. but when you cross your arms and stare him down with an unimpressed look, he huffs and turns his back to you.

“stubborn,” you mutter under your breath, stepping behind him. his shoulders are massive, the tension in them practically radiating.

you place your hands on them, and he immediately stiffens.

“relax,” you say, kneading the taut muscles beneath your fingers. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“pity,” he mutters, though there’s a begrudging amusement in his tone.

you press your thumbs into a particularly tight knot, and he lets out a low, involuntary sound—not quite a groan but enough to make you smirk.

“see? even you can’t argue with results,” you tease, leaning closer as your hands work into his shoulders.

“you’re enjoying this too much,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into your touch, his body betraying him.

for a while, the room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the hearth and the sound of your hands working against his muscles.

you press a little harder into a stubborn knot, and he exhales sharply.

“still acting tough?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“I am tough, you insolent wife,” he retorts, but the edge in his voice has dulled.

you chuckle, brushing a stray lock of his hair aside with one hand while the other presses into his neck. the gesture is so tender, enough that sukuna goes still for a moment.

“your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, your fingers trailing briefly over the side of his face before pulling back.

he turns his head slightly, his crimson gaze meeting yours over his shoulder.

you notice the slight softening of his eyes before he scoffs, rolling his shoulders as you step back little. “you’re getting too comfortable.”

“how scandalous,” you hum, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

he frowns, hand moving to hold the back of your head as he pulls you closer.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji stumbles through the bedroom door, a look of mild exhaustion on his face. his shirt’s torn at the sleeve, a fresh scrape on his cheek, and he’s limping just slightly, though he's trying to hide it. you glance up from your book, raising an eyebrow.

“you’re a mess,” you say, putting your book down.

he groans. “I’m fine. Just got into a little scuffle with a couple of idiots.” he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it carelessly onto the chair, wincing slightly as he pulls it off.

you tilt your head, inspecting him carefully. “uh-huh. that’s the same thing you always say. you’re looking a little too beat up to be fine.”

toji snorts. “it’s nothing. just a bruise here, scratch there—don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you raise your hands in mock surrender, but your eyes narrow playfully. “uh-huh. right. and I suppose your limp is just for fun too?”

toji looks down at his leg, then back at you, clearly trying to avoid the topic. “I’m fine, alright? really. you don’t need to play nurse tonight.”

you get up from the couch, walking over to him with a slight smirk. “I’m not playing nurse, toji. but if you’re going to act like a stubborn idiot, I guess I’ll have to do something about it.” you poke at his shoulder lightly, knowing full well he hates being fussed over.

he lets out a low, tired chuckle. “yeah, yeah. I know. you’ve got a thing for fixing me up.”

you roll your eyes, tugging at his shirt and guiding him toward the couch. “I’m not fixing you up. I’m just stopping you from walking around like a zombie for the rest of the night.”

he lets out an exaggerated groan, but he sinks down onto the couch anyway. “you’re lucky you’re cute. go ahead, doctor.”

you sit beside him and start gently untying his shoes. “you always say that when you’re trying to avoid admitting you need help.”

toji lifts an eyebrow, looking amused. “I don’t need help. I just like your hands on me.” he smirks.

you shake your head, unbothered. “just sit still for a second, alright?”

he chuckles as you work, peeling off his shoes and massaging the tension out of his feet. you can feel the stress in his muscles, the fatigue from the day’s battle lingering.

“see?” you poke at his calf with your finger. “this is what happens when you refuse to listen. you get all tense and grumpy.”

toji groans, but it’s not from pain. he stretches his leg out further, enjoying the relief. “you know, this doesn’t feel too bad…”

“you’re welcome,” you tease, your hands moving up his legs, working on his calves. “maybe next time you won’t play the ‘I’m fine’ card when you’re clearly not.”

he grins and looks down at you, his eyes softening just a bit. “I’ll think about it, but no promises. you know how I am.”

you laugh quietly, continuing your work. “yeah, I do. stubborn to a fault.” you finish with his feet, giving them a final rub before standing up. “alright, mister, I’m done here. go rest up before I have to start giving you more ‘doctor visits.’”

“I didn’t know you were into roleplay—”

“one more word, and you will be kissing the couch tonight.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will make my cat bite you

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[tenderwhore]

"I think I fuck you better than your stupid porn videos, little pervert."

✿ Word count: 3082

✿ Summary: You were just trying to relieve some tension after an intense study session, without imagining that the person you hated the most in the world would find you in an inappropriate situation.

✿ Content warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

F!reader x Heeseung, academic rivals, plotless porn, public place masturbation, mention of pornography, rubbing against clothes, PIV, sex in a public place (even though no one sees them), unprotected sex, creampie, Heeseung is a provocateur and talks WAY TOO MUCH, nicknames: (bitch, whore, princess, little pervert), nipple play, compliments (?), Heeseung has a big cock (?).

✿ Note and clarifications: this is probably very bad, since I've never written anything. English is not my first language either, so there are probably many spelling mistakes, in addition to it not being proofread. The main idea came from a spicy AI chatbot, but I couldn't find it SORRY IF IT'S REALLY BAD, DON'T HATE ME

You have always demonstrated your competitiveness because Heeseung has always been ahead in everything, but you... You were always the second, and that bothered you day and night; you hated him for his privileged position, maybe you felt a bit of envy, just a bit.

He pretended to be the ideal guy. Yes, he was charismatic, attractive, insightful, elegant, the class leader, stylish, outstanding in sports, hot... So fucking hot... You definitely hated him.

...

It was approaching 5 PM and, despite the bell having rung about an hour and a half ago, you were still in the classroom because you had a lot of assignments to complete. It had been a day full of responsibilities that had your hair standing on end, so just as you finished your tasks, your body collapsed like jelly in your chair while you let out an exhausted sigh.

You momentarily looked at the ceiling before taking your phone out of your purse and accessing one of your favorite porn sites. It was one of your little favorite pastimes whenever you felt frustrated and just longed for someone to push you against a wall and fuck you until you were utterly spent.

The more you watched, the more you felt your body heating up. As you looked to the sides, you lightly bit your lower lip, making sure there was no one around while you slid your hands over your breasts and abdomen before reaching the hem of your skirt and lifting it, then slipping your fingers into your underwear, lightly brushing your already wet folds.

You adjusted your position in the chair a little more, then lifted your fingers slightly and pressed them against your clitoris, beginning to make circles on it.

You quickly immerse yourself in pleasure, tilting your head slightly back and clenching your jaw to stay silent. Your hips began to rise, seeking greater stimulation. You are so close, your orgasm is creeping up your neck, until you hear a guy ask, "Why do you do it alone when you have me?"

The sound made you jump slightly and stop, bringing your hands to your lap with your face as red as a tomato and your heart racing.

Your orgasmic haze didn't allow you to immediately process whose voice it was, so you searched the room with your hazy eyes until they landed on Heeseung's figure, who was casually standing a few meters away from your body, looking at you with an arrogant smile and his hands in his pockets.

You huff angrily as you close your eyes tightly, readjusting your position in the chair reluctantly and turning off your phone. "Shouldn't you be fucking one of the cheerleaders in the bathroom or something?" Your voice comes out cocky, trying to sound relaxed despite my vulnerable position.

He chuckles softly, advancing serenely towards the classroom with a predatory gleam in his eyes as he approaches you. His imposing figure looms over you. "You always try to get rid of me, don't you? But we both know you don't want that..."

He leans in, placing his hands on your desk, bringing his face closer to yours. While murmuring in a husky voice. "I saw what you were doing, little naughty one. Don't you know it's wrong to give yourself pleasure in a place like this?" He smiles disdainfully as one of his hands slides down to rest possessively on your thigh, squeezing the delicate flesh through your skirt.

You take a deep breath as I shift slightly against the chair. The contrast between his warm palm and the coldness of his rings sends you a shiver down my spine. "Well, I find it more inappropriate to spy on someone while they are enjoying a private moment".

He let out a soft, mocking laugh, without changing his stance towards you. "Private moments? Please, there is nothing private about masturbating while watching pornography in a classroom." His voice comes out deep and the way he speaks feels so disgusting. "And regarding spying on you... Well, let's just say I occasionally keep an eye on you..."

His hand slowly moves up your thigh; the tips of his fingers brush the hem of your skirt. "You are desperate for attention, even if it means getting caught in compromising positions. "It's almost pathetic, really."

He tilted his head and observed your blushing face with a smug smile. "Tell me, have you ever fantasized about someone doing the same things to you as in those videos?"

You swallow nervously as you clench your thighs tightly together in an effort to stop his hand from seeming to sink deeper and deeper between your legs. "Why do you ask? Have you fantasized about being the person who does those things to me?" My voice comes out almost in a whisper.

He easily spreads your legs apart again with a firm grip. "Oh, I've fantasized about many things involving you, like bending you over this very desk and fucking you senseless until you beg for mercy." Your heart almost leaps out of your chest upon hearing his words.

He presses his body against the desk between the two of you, holding you in place while his free hand reaches out to tangle in your hair. He leans towards you and bites your earlobe before whispering, "I've imagined being the one to drive you crazy." He pulls your hair a little harder, making you let out a soft gasp of surprise. He is so close to your face that it seems like he is going to kiss you. "That way, I would show everyone that you're just an envious bitch, always behind me because you need me to fill you up with my cock until you can't take it anymore."

You are so astonished by the simplicity with which he pronounces his perverted and degrading words towards you that you just stand there, looking at him with wide eyes and your heart pounding against your chest.

Realizing that you can only look at him with astonished and embarrassed eyes, he lets out a defeated sigh before releasing your hair and getting up from his position. "You're a fucking coward," he states as he turns around and moves to leave the room. "You're a fucking coward," he says as he turns around and walks away, intending to leave the room.

You feel your blood boil at his words, not because he called you a bitch, a whore, or because he confessed how much he wants to fuck you, but simply because he called you a coward and envious.

You feel your blood boil at his words, not because he called you a bitch, a whore, or because he confessed how much he wants to fuck you, but simply because he called you cowardly and envious.

You stand up from your chair, and the sound of your materials spilling onto the floor due to the force with which you rise causes Heeseung to turn towards you, confused, catching your face red with anger and embarrassment. "What did you call me?" you mutter as you clench your fists at your sides.

Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you. "Bitch?" he questions. "Coward" you correct.

You slowly approach him, trying to look confident, but your steps remain uncertain and trembling.

Once you find yourself standing in front of him, you grab the collar of his shirt, and you smash your lips against his.

He lets out a furious sigh that he didn't know he was holding back before returning the kiss with a suffocating hunger, as he places his hands on your waist and presses your body against his, savoring the way your breasts press against his.

His tongue soon delved deeply into your mouth, savoring your saliva mixed with his, eliciting a gasp from you.

His body began to push you backward, guiding you during the kiss towards the desk. Once there, you pulled away from the kiss, looking at him with narrowed eyes. His beautiful swollen lips, his slightly red cheeks, and the collar of his shirt that was once perfectly arranged are now disheveled.

He smiled; that damn arrogant smile is the same smile he gave you after mocking your intelligence and skills, the same smile he gives when he corrects one of your contributions in class, the same smile he gives after having you tongue-tied.

He leans over, placing his hands on either side of his body on the desk. "Ah, so the little pervert is revealing herself." One of her legs pushed between yours, forcing you to open them and pressing her knee against your center.

"Stop calling me a pervert, idiot", you practically spat in his face.

"I think you're being too pedantic considering I can feel your wet pussy against my leg." To prove his point, he starts pushing his knees against you repeatedly.

The constant rubbing of the fabric of your wet panties against your clitoris makes you tremble and sigh. Unconsciously, your hips move in unison with his leg. "I'm only wet because you interrupted my orgasm a few minutes ago, definitely not because of you", you manage to say before a strong push from his leg makes you moan.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, princess, it was very rude of me to interrupt you; maybe I should make it up to you." He leans towards your neck and starts kissing your neck. Your hands grip his shirt tightly in an attempt to keep yourself grounded.

Something inside you bubbles; the feeling of anger and longing is intoxicating. A part of you just wants to hit him until he cries, but another part of you wants to rip off his pants and suck his cock until he cries. Before you can determine which feeling prevails, his fingers are quickly working on the buttons of your shirt while leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your chest.

He briefly pulls away from your barely covered breasts by your cute bra. "You are beautiful", he declares, completely absorbed. The abrupt change in his words and the tone of his voice make you feel weak; it's as if your body has surrendered to him.

Your hips start moving desperately against him, feeling how occasionally your thigh brushes against his solid erection, which only serves as an incentive to move harder.

One of his hands moves to the small of your back to help you move against him, while the other slides your bra down and frees your breasts. He doesn't resist and brings one of his nipples to his mouth. With force and abundant saliva, causing a bit to escape from his mouth and slide down your chest.

The moans that escape your mouth are dirty, incoherent words. You feel your legs thrashing around his thigh as your orgasm approaches.

"Heeseung..." His name comes out so softly, so gently, barely audible, but he hears it, he definitely hears it. His head quickly turns away from your chest to look at you with the most serious expression you have ever seen on his face. "I... I am close..." You don't understand why you're notifying him, but there's something in his behavior that makes you feel so submissive.

"Let me help you with that." He brings both of his hands forward and lifts your skirt, exposing your completely ruined panties, which makes him laugh. One hand holds your skirt, and with the other, he slips a finger into the hem of your panties to move them aside, allowing your bare clitoris to rub against the fabric of his pants.

It's rough, strange, and delicious. You place all your weight on his legs while you continue chasing your orgasm.

The sight of your small, swollen, and wet clitoris makes him sigh and tense up in his pants. "Come on, go ahead, I want to see that cute pussy ruin my pants."

Her words seem to be enough to make you come with a muffled moan of her name. Your hands grip even tighter against his shirt and you bury your face in his chest in an attempt to muffle your moans.

A few seconds later, when your euphoria dissipated, you slowly withdrew your face from his chest. He reached for your face with one of his hands, gently squeezing your cheeks. "Obviously, this turned out to be more effective than doing it yourself." He stated with a playful tone. "Although... I still haven't had enough fun."

He grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to turn around and press your face against the desk. "Heeseung." You call him firmly, quickly understanding what he is trying to do.

His hands slide your panties down your legs and lift your skirt until it is rolled up at your waist. "You have a very nice little butt." He gives one of your cheeks a hard slap, making you jump and try to move away from the desk.

"Heeseung, we shouldn't..." You try to plead, but he grabs your hair roughly and pulls your body back towards the desk, exerting an even more intense pressure on your body than before.

"I'm not asking for permission." Then, you only hear the sound of his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his pants falling to the floor.

"I can't wait to fill this hole with my cum." He took his cock between his fingers and tapped its tip against your wet entrance, making his pre-cum mix with your arousal.

He aligns his red, dripping tip against your center. "Yes... It should fill you up so much that when you walk down the halls, my semen slides down your legs", he murmurs more to himself than to you.

His cock slides easily into you because of how wet you are. Once it hits bottom, a guttural moan escapes from both of you, and he throws his head back in pure ecstasy. "And when people notice and question you about it, you'll have to say it was me who went all the way." At this point, he was simply rambling.

You feel like it's piercing your uterus; your walls are incessantly struggling to accommodate its size. "Too, too... Big..." You gasp almost without air as you scratch the desk beneath you.

"Shh... Shh, calm down...". Her hips begin to grind against yours in an animalistic rhythm. "I know it's deep." He whispers in a tone that tries to be comforting.

A hoarse moan flows from his throat, causing you to tighten uncontrollably around him. "You're so fucking tight." He groans. "I should have at least inserted three fingers before fucking you." He was lying; he was fascinated by the almost painful way you squeezed him.

Again, he takes a handful of your hair between his fingers to pull you away from the desk, leaving your back aligned with his chest.

He takes your face in his hand and turns it so that your face is in front of his. What's wrong? "Why don't you say anything anymore?" He gives a particularly deep thrust that makes you moan and grimace with pleasure. "You're always so grumpy, but now that you have a cock inside you, it seems like you can't even think."

When you try to respond, a stream of nonsensical words and gasps comes out of you, making him laugh and his laughter echoes against your back.

"You are so tender" The sweet and affectionate way his words come out of his mouth surprises you so much that you turn your face a little more towards him, looking into his eyes through your lashes wet with some accumulated tears and a fucked-up, but so in-love expression.

His free hand, which isn't holding your face, moves to your lower abdomen, pressing right on the bulge of his cock. You follow him and bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers with his.

The world seems to be completely silent, except for Heeseung's gasps and your sharp moans; you feel nothing else apart from the heat radiating from his body against yours.

He starts leaving wet kisses on your neck. "Fuck, you're so wet, so tight, so beautiful..." You are a bitch perfectly made for me. Growls in your hatred.

Your legs start to tremble; the knot in your stomach tightens even more. "Seungie... I'm close..."

"Yes? Are you going to squeeze your little pussy while you cum really hard on my cock?" he asked with a tone that, under other circumstances, would sound very cocky if it weren't for the pathetic moan that accompanied it.

You just nod desperately, not caring how pathetic you might look right now.

Before you realize it, your walls tighten around Heeseung. "Just like that, cum all over my cock." He pushes your body back onto the desk, pressing your cheek against it

His thrusts are careless and aimless as he chases your orgasm. "I'm going to fill you up so much that I'll leave you ruined for anyone else who tries to sleep with you."

You moan overstimulated as your juices start to drip out of you, creating a completely obscene splashing sound.

"My semen will stay so deep inside you that you'll never be able to get it all out." He presses his chest against your back, crushing your body against the writing. With one final thrust, the head of his cock buries itself in your womb as he spurts.

The sensation of his semen so deeply makes you feel relaxed and yet overwhelmed.

They stay like that for a moment, trying to properly process what just happened. "Get off me, you're suffocating me", you complain with an obvious lack of breath.

Heeseung laughs as he slowly pulls away and slides out, then gently takes you by the shoulders and helps you stand up and turn around so you are facing him.

You try to stand up straight, but your legs tremble and fail, so you almost fall to the ground if he hadn't held you tightly.

"I think I fuck you better than your stupid porn videos, little pervert."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[rainrot4me]

Ticci Toby General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Toby as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 1.6k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- Even though he is socially awkward and tense, he’s a master at people watching. Can read a room and know more details about a person within seconds of watching them interact.

- Likes his alone time.

- He would probably say Tim and Brian are his closest friends, the same can’t be said about Masky and Hoodie, however.

- A pro at zoning out. Takes you waving your hand in his face before he snaps back.

- Bipolar? More-so emotional switch. Tends to be soft-spoken and awkward, trying his best to keep conversation while fidgeting his hands, looking anywhere but at your face. Otherwise, he’s an in-your-face, aggressive, no emotional resistance when that flip is switched. Lots of teeth gritting and yelling, swings his ax around like it’s a toy to intimidate. It takes a lot for him to get to that point, but it takes double the time for him to come back down from it.

- Not easily scared. Will throw himself into a fight and come out victorious somehow.

- Sleeper build. Wears lots of baggy clothing and layers so you can’t tell, but secretly he’s jacked. He may look scrawny, but don’t be fooled. Really strong shoulder and chest muscles from dually swinging his ax and dragging bodies around. He doesn’t think it’s all that impressive. Wishes he was bigger.

- The worst posture you’ve ever seen.

- Let his facial hair grow out from time to time. Thinks it makes him look too mature, but appreciates the compliments he gets.

- Has a secret hobby of playing a guitar he found on a mission. His tics mess him up a lot, but it’s worth the trip out deeper into the woods where no one can hear to practice a little.

- A little shit.

- Hates the heat. Would rather freeze to death than spend one moment in the too hot sun. Favorite season is late fall, around the first snowfall time.

- Big on territory. Never had privacy or respect as a kid so he values having his own things and belongs that nobody else can touch.

- Definitely shy, but not in the “UwU” way, in the “Can you get this from the gas station for me? The girl in there looks mean.”

- Bites his nails, the skin around his nails, and his cuticles LIKE A MF.

- Very light sleeper. Unless he’s absolutely dead beat exhausted, he’ll wake up from just the floorboards creaking. Has to be physically exhausted to actually rest.

- When listening to music, he needs it as loud and close as possible. Headphones are a must and they must be at max. He wants to feel that bass.

- A stray animal lover, feels similar to them in a way.

- Breaks down a lot. Hard to console or even talk to in those moments but some time alone in his room will do the trick.

- Has the education level of a middle schooler.

- Enjoys Gorillaz, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, and surprisingly, older country artists like Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. “Outlaw shit.”

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Love” “Y/N…” “Baby”

- Loves when he touches you and you don’t pull away. Like when his knee accidentally rests against yours or his elbow bumps your arm while sitting on the couch and you don’t tug away, just sitting there letting him rest. He gets all giddy.

- Playing with your hair. Currently trying to learn how to braid.

- “Wait. O- Okay, so, right th- then left? No? F- Fuck, okay…”

- Favorite sleeping position is with you wrapping around each other, legs and arms tangled together as he hooks his chin onto the top of your head, rubbing your back. Even though you both get extremely hot and sweaty after a while, Toby enjoys the moment before you eventually shove him off.

- Likes to feel your body weight on him, whether it’s laying or sitting, he just likes the pressure and warmth you give.

- Big on physical touch, could really care less if he’s mad or not, just needs to have some part of his body touching yours.

- You could wear or look like absolutely anything and he���d still think you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

- Loves how you smell after getting out of the shower, can’t get enough of it while he kisses your warm, damp skin.

- Loves the way it feels when you comb through his hair with your fingers, practically purrs as he melts into your warmth, angling his head so you have better access.

- An admirer for sure, stares even when you catch on, studying every freckle or sunspot on your cheek.

- Self conscious about being your boyfriend. In reality, he’s an amazing lover, but he’s been conditioned his whole life that he’s not good enough and that ideal carries over.

- Tried to lick you through the hole in his cheek once, you both freaked out.

- Sensitive to high stress situations or loud noises so constantly reaches for your hand or crams himself into your side to block out the panic he can feel oncoming. You really help.

- Slasher movie date nights are always a bust because he’ll describe just how inaccurate that blood splatter was, followed by what would actually happen in detail.

- “If he c- cut the arm like that, it wou- wouldn’t spray out that far. This g- guy doesn’t even l- look like he’s ever even he- held an ax before.”

- Didn’t have a favorite color until you told him yours. Says his is the same, just cause it’s your favorite.

- Very immature in the sense of relationship problems. He thinks everything can be solved if he just avoids it, and that includes you. It takes a lot of bickering and patience, but he’ll eventually get over himself and force a solution.

- Doesn’t open up about anything ever. You’ve gotta fight tooth and nail for him to even mention his mother’s name. Will tell you all about his latest mission, however, whether you want to hear or not.

- Throws things or hits you playfully just to turn around and go “Who did that??”

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Boobs. Tits. Breasts. He needs them in his palms immediately.

- A big biter. Will never bite hard enough to draw blood but gets so turned on at seeing his teeth marks in your skin. Big territory thing.

- “Mine. See, I m- marked ‘ya. You’re mine.”

- His dream is to fuck your tits, too shy to ask though.

- Always been a “jerk off as fast as you can” kind of guy, fisting his cock fast to just get off. So when you slowly slide down his cock for the first time, taking your time to adjust and grind your hips at a steady pace, he nearly cums on the spot from how overwhelming it is.

- Bisexual, definitely.

- Starts at a fast pace at first, thrusting and grinding until both of your hips hurt, but then slowly his pace changes, more intentional movements and sinking deeper, more focused on stretching you out then getting deep. Just wants to get you dizzy before he gives you the good stuff lol.

- “Th- That feel good? You’re sq- squeezin’ so tight, ah-”

- His fingernail imprints all over your skin from how hard he holds you.

- Pervert but not in a creepy way. Pervert as in gets a boner from just watching your ass as you walk across the room. Has to clench his fists every time you bend over or raise your shirt up. Can barely breathe if you’re showing too much skin.

- Not big on degradation, but is very big on affirmation, loves to be told he’s doing good.

- Secretly, sooooo secretly loves the idea of anal. For both you and him. He wants to be buried in your ass, your back laid into his chest as he shoves his fingers into your cunt, panting into your neck. But at the same time, wishes you would just read his mind and push your fingers into his, fisting his cock as you stretched him so well.

- Surprisingly, very flexible. Whatever position you’re in he can easily contort to get the best angle to sink his cock in.

- Jealousy sex. Another resident of the mansion catches your glance for too long and suddenly you’re shoved into the bathroom, pants at your ankles as the brunette swipes the pads of his fingers against your clit, biting against your shoulder as he ruts into your ass.

- “Mine, mine, m- mine, nobody els- else makes you feel this good. Right? R- Right? Yeah?”

- A WHINER. Grade A pro at burying his face into your neck/pillow/chest and just sobbing his pleasure through tears and moans. He’s so loud, obnoxiously groaning and huffing as you slap your hand over his mouth. It doesn’t help though, as soon as your hand pushes down his tongue is already out and licking your palms.

- You in his hoodie? Yeah, it’s the only thing you’re wearing while he snaps his hips, pushing your knees back as far as they’ll go to get even deeper, mewling about how good you look.

- Loves to sit back and watch you suck his cock, his fingers pushing strands of hair out of your face as you try to take it all in, eyes twitching the further down you get. He’s not insanely big, just lengthy enough to make you choke and reach all the best parts. Likes to put his goggles on your forehead and watch them dangle as you bob up and down.

- Cumming in you? No. Cumming on you? Every single time. Goes absolutely crazy when he sees his seed shot across your stomach or thighs, your flushed skin and post-orgasm twitches getting him so turned on he can’t focus.

- “You ju- just look so good… Couldn’t he- help myself, okay? Sorry… Can we, u- uh… Can we go ag- again?”

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[mephisto-reporting]

A Tender Respite

About: He needs to be cared for and you are more than willing to take care of him. But how would he react to it? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship. But there is an implied mutual attraction between them My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content warning: mentions of injuries, blood, illnesses.

ZAYNE

As you walked with Zayne through the dimly lit garage, the air was thick with a mix of hospital antiseptic and the warmth of a long-awaited checkup. His calm demeanor had always been a source of comfort. Today, however, that tranquility shattered as a wanderer materialized from a swirling metaflux, its presence disorienting and threatening.

In a split second, Zayne pushed you aside, his body taking the brunt of the impact as he shielded a family of children who had wandered too close. You quickly jumped into the fight, disposing of the wanderer, as a skilled hunter would. The sound of a scuffle echoed in the enclosed space, followed by the sharp hiss of energy. You barely registered the chaos before everything fell silent.

When you finally gathered your bearings, Zayne was on the floor, grimacing in pain, cuts and bruises marring his skin. A deep gash ran across his forearm, blood trickling down and pooling at his wrist, and a bruise blossomed near his temple, dark and angry. Panic surged through you as you rushed to his side.

“Zayne! We need to get you to the hospital!” you urged, as you examined his injuries.

“No!” he replied, his voice steady despite the evident pain etched across his features. “Just… take me home. I can handle this.”

You shook your head, stubbornness flaring. “You’re not fine, Zayne. You need medical attention.”

“I’m not going back to that hospital!” he replied, equally stubborn but barely hiding the pain. With no other option, you helped him into your vehicle, his breathing labored as you drove him to his apartment.

When you finally pulled up, you helped him inside, gently guiding him to the couch. “Just sit,” you insisted, searching for his first aid kit. He attempted to protest, but you were already rummaging through the drawers, refusing to let him downplay his injuries.

“Really, it’s nothing—” he started, but you shot him a look that made him falter.

“Zayne, you’re a doctor. You know better than anyone that you need to take care of yourself.”

With a resigned nod, he settled back against the cushions, watching as you gathered supplies. You meticulously cleaned his wounds, your fingers trembling slightly as you worked. The antiseptic stung, and he winced slightly, but your focus didn’t waver. You had to take his shirt off to clean and disinfect wounds on his arm. He winced as you cleaned the gash on his forehead, your hands brushing against his skin, and he caught your gaze. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—a longing, a softness that sent your heart racing. You quickly looked away, focusing on the task at hand.

“Just a little more to the left,” he instructed, his voice low and steady, though there was a tension lingering in the air. As you followed his instructions, you caught the way his gaze softened, an intensity in his expression that made your heart race.

“See? Not so bad, right?” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. Zayne chuckled softly, but the sound held a deeper resonance.

“You’re going to need to take a couple of days off work. No arguments.” you added, trying to keep your voice steady.

Zayne chuckled softly, despite the pain. “You’re rather stubborn, you know…” he teased, but there was warmth in his tone that made your cheeks heat.

“I’m just looking out for you,” you said, applying a fresh bandage. “Besides, you saved those kids. You deserve a break.”

As you finished, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing your wrist. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “I don’t need you to care for me especially after an exhausting day as a hunter.”

“You do,” you insisted, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes. “More than you know.”

After you wrapped up his injuries, you insisted on making him food. He watched you from the couch, a quiet admiration in his gaze. You filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove for tea, stealing glances at him over your shoulder. Each time your eyes met, the air thickened with unspoken tension, a longing that danced just out of reach.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, stirring a pot of soup.

“Just… being here is enough,” he replied, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “But if you insist, I’d love some of your famous soup.”

As you set a steaming bowl in front of him, you poured tea and placed the painkillers beside it. “Here. You need to take these,” you said, watching as he took a sip of the tea, a hint of relief washing over his features.

“Thank you, for taking care of me... I feel bad that you have to...”

Before he could finish, you interrupted, your mind racing in blissful ignorance of his unspoken confession. “It’s just what friends do, Zayne.” you said with a bright smile, unaware of the way his gaze softened even further. “Plus, you have always been there for me, caring for me in ways more than one. ”

As he ate, you settled next to him on the couch, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You chatted easily, but the undercurrent of tension lingered. Zayne’s hand brushed against yours, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not just my friend,” he said quietly, looking at you as if weighing his words carefully. The moment hung heavy, the air thick with words left unspoken. Instead, he took a sip of tea, his gaze softening even further. “I lo- ahem….appreciate you. More than you know.”

You smiled, oblivious to the confession that nearly slipped from his lips. “Just focus on healing. I’ll be here for you.” you assured, stealing another glance at his injuries. “Just promise me you’ll rest and take care of yourself, for me.”

“For you…I will promise anything you want me to.”

XAVIER

The night air hung thick with tension as you and Xavier maneuvered through the dimly lit streets, the flickering neon lights casting eerie shadows on the cracked pavement. The Hunters Association had assigned you to clear out a particularly troublesome area infested with Wanderers. As always, Xavier maintained his calm demeanor, his focus unwavering despite the palpable danger surrounding you.

You fought side by side, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dispatched the menacing figures that loomed in the darkness. Xavier was a skilled partner, his movements precise and almost graceful, but during the fray, one particularly nasty Wanderer caught him off guard. You saw it in an instant—a swift strike that sent him stumbling back, a look of mild surprise gracing his otherwise stoic face.

“Xavier!” you shouted, but the battle was frenetic, and you couldn’t spare a moment to check on him. You pushed forward, a surge of determination fueling your every action until the last Wanderer fell, the night finally falling silent.

As you made your way back to the apartment complex you both called home, a creeping worry gnawed at your insides. You had fought fiercely, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

It wasn’t until you stepped into the elevator that you noticed it—a faint stain blooming on the sleeve of Xavier's shirt, dark against the fabric. “Xavier, you are hurt!” you asked, your voice laced with concern as you stepped closer.

He looked down, his neutral expression barely shifting as he shrugged. “It’s nothing,” he replied, but the faintness in his voice told another story. The elevator chimed, and you instinctively reached for his arm, tugging him towards your apartment.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” you insisted, not waiting for his reluctant agreement. He followed, fatigue evident in his steps, but you could tell he was trying to hide the pain.

Once inside, you guided him to the small bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest. “You need to sit down,” you said, gently urging him onto the edge of the bathtub. As you assessed his injuries, the sight made your stomach turn—a jagged cut on his forearm, bruises beginning to darken beneath his skin, and a small gash on his side that was still oozing blood.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you scolded gently, though your voice trembled with worry. He offered a sleepy smile, an endearing expression that made your heart flutter.

“Didn’t want to worry you,” he murmured, his tone a mix of sincerity and drowsiness.

You shook your head, grabbing the first aid kit and working quickly to clean his wounds. As you dabbed antiseptic on the cut, he flinched slightly, but his gaze remained locked on you, a warmth radiating from his usually neutral expression. The air was thick with tension, the proximity drawing you closer together as you worked. The way he looked at you, with that soft heat in his eyes, made your breath catch.

“Xavier…” you began, but he interrupted, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“You’re too kind,” he mumbled, leaning slightly into your touch as you bandaged his arm. “I—”

“Just stay still and rest.” you urged, focused on the task. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re patched up.”

His eyes fluttered, and he leaned back against the cool tile, clearly exhausted. “You make it hard to rest when you’re so close…” he murmured, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Maybe you should stop being so dramatic,” you teased lightly, though your heart raced at his words. “You’re just tired.”

“Not dramatic… just…” He closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing evening out. “You make everything better.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the confession, but he was already drifting, his head dipping as he struggled to stay awake. “Xavier,” you nudged gently, concern lacing your voice. “You need to stay with me.”

He blinked, struggling against the pull of sleep. “I know… just want to be here… with you,” he mumbled, words slurring together.

You bit your lip, a mix of emotions swelling in your chest. “You can rest on my bed,” you suggested, already guiding him gently towards the bedroom. Xavier’s expression shifted slightly as he let you guide him. He didn’t argue, too exhausted to resist, and he settled onto the bed, his body sinking into the soft comfort. He looked so pale and vulnerable, and your heart ached at the sight. You took a moment to admire him—his features relaxed, the way his hair fell slightly over his eyes, giving him an almost ethereal look.

“Stay with me,” he said sleepily, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course,” you replied softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, the tension crackling in the air between you. “I’ll be right here.”

As he closed his eyes, a soft smile graced his lips, and you couldn’t help but reach out, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “You really need to take better care of yourself, Xavier,” you chided gently, your fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Mmm… you take care of me,” he mumbled, his breath evening out. “I’m grateful… more than you know…”

His voice trailed off, and you watched as he succumbed to sleep, the softness of his expression stealing your breath. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the brink of confessing something deeper, but as you leaned back, your heart swelled with warmth and affection for the boy who had captured your attention.

Xavier stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment. “You’re still here,” he said, his voice a low rasp, filled with sleepiness and an undercurrent of something deeper.

“Of course,” you replied softly, a smile playing on your lips. “I wouldn’t leave you alone like this.”

“Good... I like it when you’re here,” he mumbled, his words heavy with the weight of his drowsiness, as he settled back into the pillows, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

“Just get some sleep, Xavier,” you said, brushing your fingers along his arm in a comforting gesture. “You need it.”

“Thank you. ”  

“I’ll always be here for you, Xavier. ”

SYLUS

The N109 Zone was bustling with its usual chaos, but something felt off today. You had been out on a mission with Sylus, but he wasn’t himself. His usual commanding presence had faded, replaced by a weariness that settled deep in his bones. The usual gleam in his eyes was dulled, and his voice came out raspy, each word struggling to find its way through a thick fog of fatigue.

“Sylus,” you began, your concern bubbling up. “What’s going on? You don’t look well.”

He started to respond, his expression twisting into something like annoyance mixed with exhaustion, but before he could say anything, you reached out instinctively, placing a palm against his forehead. Your breath caught as you felt the heat radiating from him. He was burning up. You had seen Sylus heal from injuries in the blink of an eye, his body almost otherworldly in its resilience. You had never considered that he could fall sick.

“Sylus, you’re burning up!” You didn’t wait for his protests. You quickly grabbed his arm and tugged him toward your bike. He stumbled slightly but didn’t resist, a clear sign of how unwell he was feeling.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he rasped, but there was no fire behind his words. He seemed more like a wounded animal than the powerful figure you were used to.

As you drove toward the Onychinus base, you could feel the tension in the air, thick with concern. Sylus leaned against you, his presence warm and heavy, and you felt a swell of protectiveness surge through you. You parked and guided him inside, taking him straight to his room. He collapsed onto the bed, and you wasted no time in removing his shoes and jacket, revealing the fine fabric of his shirt, clinging slightly to his skin.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, moving quickly to gather supplies. But as you turned to leave, a sudden force held you back. You looked down to see Sylus using his Evol to grasp your wrist.

“Careful now,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice despite his fatigue. “If you’ve imprisoned me to the bed, you should at least guard your prisoner.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable, Sylus. Just rest!”

“Stay…” His voice was soft, almost as if he was pleading. “Ask Luke and Kieran to get whatever you want to torture me with.”

As you called out to Luke and Kieran for help, you felt your heart racing—not just from worry, but from the strange thrill of being so close to him, sharing this moment of vulnerability. They returned quickly with  washcloths, cool water, some medicines, and a light meal. You settled back by his side, ready to care for him.

First, you soaked one of the washcloths in cool water, wringing it out before gently placing it against his forehead. He sighed softly at the touch, a breathy noise that stirred something deep within you. You could see the tension in his shoulders release just a little as you wiped the cool fabric across his skin.

“You’re too soft, you know,” he teased lightly, even as his voice cracked. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to make me your captive forever?”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Just hold still, you stubborn man.”

The second washcloth found its way to his neck and chest, gently wiping away the sweat that clung to his skin. His breath hitched at your touch, a mix of softness and teasing glinting in his dull eyes. “If you keep touching me like that, I might get the wrong idea, Sweetie.”

You scolded him, “You’re lucky I’m doing this at all. Just try to relax, would you?”

“You know,” he murmured, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes, “if you wanted to see me without my shirt, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, shut it,” you laughed, but your heart raced as you continued to care for him, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a blanket.

Once you felt you had brought his temperature down a little, you shifted to the light meal. You filled a bowl with soup, bringing a spoonful of it to his lips. “Here, eat this. You need your strength.”

“Quite the hero, aren’t you?” His tone was playful, yet the weariness in his eyes held a vulnerability that made your heart ache. “How am I supposed to recover when my captor is so distracting?”

“Just focus on getting better,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Or do you need more than just soup to heal?”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was low and inviting. “I could think of a few things…”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced at his words, quickly serving him the soup. You brought the spoon to his lips again, wiping away a bit that dribbled onto his chin. As your fingers brushed against his lips, he pressed a soft kiss against your fingers, and your breath hitched.

In a brief lull, he leaned closer, his eyes heavy with sleep. “You know, if you keep taking care of me like this, I might start to think you actually care, Kitten…” he murmured, his gaze searching yours.

“I care about you not dying.” you replied, but the playful banter hung thick in the air. Just as he was about to say something more, Mephisto’s cawed from the corner, breaking the spell of the moment.

“Of course, he has to ruin the moment…” Sylus grumbled under his breath. With a frustrated sigh, Sylus fell back against the pillows, exhaustion pulling him under. But he reached out, grasping your hand tightly, as if afraid to let go. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft breath escaping his lips. You could feel his warmth seep into your skin, and your heart raced at the weight of his hand in yours.

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, “you might just be my best guard.”

“Just rest,” you whispered, leaning closer, your heart full of unspoken feelings. “I’ll be right here.”

RAFAYEL

In the dim light of Rafayel's apartment, you stepped inside, immediately greeted by the mess that was his usual chaos—clothes scattered everywhere, art supplies on all over the floor, discarded wrappers from snacks he claimed he’d eat later, and an array of colorful plush toys piled in the corner, remnants of his last obsession with claw machines. You had come over expecting the usual antics, only to be taken aback by the sight of him.

The usually flamboyant and self-assured Rafayel was sprawled out on his couch, looking less like the charming rogue you knew and more like a wounded kitten. His vibrant blue-pink eyes were dimmed, and his usually immaculate hair was a messy halo around his head. Bruises marred his skin, and cuts adorned his arms and torso like unwelcome accessories. He had always been so dramatic about even the smallest of injuries, but this—this was different. He did not even call you or tell you that he was injured.

“Rafayel! What happened?” you exclaimed, rushing to his side.

He attempted a nonchalant shrug, but the wince that crossed his face betrayed him. “Oh, you know… just fought one of those monsters you love,” he said, trying to play it off with a dramatic flair. The corner of his lips quirked upward, but his bravado fell flat under your scrutinizing gaze.

You narrowed your eyes. Only he would be so dramatic about cats.

His smirk widened, but you could see the discomfort hidden behind his playful demeanor. You knew those injuries weren’t from any cat; they spoke of a far more serious confrontation. “Come on, spill it. I know you’re not getting beat up by a bunch of kittens.”

He looked away, feigning interest in the ceiling, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, if you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to help you anyway.”

Without waiting for his protest, you gathered supplies—a clean cloth, antiseptic, creams, and bandages.

As you began to clean his wounds, the atmosphere shifted. Your fingers grazed his skin gently, applying antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut on his arm. He flinched slightly at the sting, but his expression was one of mock indignation rather than pain. “You’re lucky I tolerate your hovering,” he teased, but his voice held a softness that revealed how much he appreciated your presence. “Careful there,” he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched you work. “That feels almost... intimate.”

“Right, because who else would pamper you like this?” you quipped back, focusing intently on his injuries to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

“I can think of a few—” he began, his tone flirtatious as his blue-pink eyes sparkled with mischief. “But they wouldn’t be as gentle as you.”

You rolled your eyes, focusing on applying the antiseptic. “Oh, please. You’re being dramatic as usual. Just try to stay still, okay?”

“Staying still while you’re this close? That’s asking for a miracle,” he shot back, his voice breathy and playful. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips curled into a teasing smile as you bandaged his arm.

With each careful swipe, your fingers brushed against his skin, and you could feel his pulse quicken. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, and every moment spent so close felt charged with something you both pretended not to acknowledge. He leaned into your touch, his bravado melting away, replaced by a softness that made your heart flutter.

“Is this necessary? I mean, really? I think I could manage just fine with a little kiss, Miss Bodyguard.” he quipped, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe if you were more careful, you wouldn’t need any of this.” You gently pressed a bandage over the cut, and he feigned a pained sigh, leaning into your touch a bit too dramatically.

“Alright, all done. You should really rest now,” you said, glancing around at the chaos that was his living space. “And I’ll handle everything else.”

“Are you sure you can handle all of this?” he asked, his voice suddenly more serious, a hint of vulnerability shining through. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please, I can handle your drama,” you replied, smirking. “Just try to rest, and I’ll clean this place up too.”

As you turned to gather the supplies, Rafayel pulled you back towards him with surprising strength, his gaze locking onto yours. “Hey… Not yet, don’t move from here…” he murmured, an intensity behind his words that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Just make sure I’m really alright. You’ve stirred something within me, you know.”

You felt your cheeks heat as you looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. There was something about the way he spoke that hinted at more than just friendship. Just as it seemed he might confess, his gaze faltered, and the moment slipped away. “Rafayel... what...”

“Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to keep you here a bit longer from redesigning my place.” he added, a playful smirk returning to his lips as he attempted to deflect the moment with his typical charm.

You huffed, half annoyed and half flustered. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible? More like irreplacable.” he shot back, winking as you turned away to hide your blush.

You sighed, shaking your head as you picked up a few stray items around the room.

“I’ll just... rest my eyes for a moment,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he finally succumbed to sleep.

The way he had said that stirred something inside you—a mixture of warmth and anticipation. But as you moved to leave, Rafayel’s voice stopped you again.

“Hey,” he said softly, and when you turned back to look at him, his expression was earnest, a flicker of something deeper visible in his eyes. “Promise you’ll be here to check on me later?” You could see the exhaustion tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course, I will.”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated! If anyone wants to be on the taglist for my future stuff, let me know :D

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Holy fuck…” Matt groans, throwing himself face down on his bed, right next to where you lay. He’d been out at meetings for new merch ideas all day while you sat at home worry free.

“What’s goin’ on?” You didn’t even have to ask, poor boy was stressed out. You shift your weight on the mattress, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

“Stupid people, never listening to us.” He mumbles into the plush surface. The three of them left at 10am and it was now 5pm. Seven whole hours of meetings. Not only was he stressed but most definitely exhausted too.

Matt rolls onto his back, closing his eyes and letting you soothingly scratch at his scalp. “We deadass told them we didn’t want that design but the team insisted! And it’s god awful ugly y/n. Horrific.” He rolls his eyes at the memory, voice laced with frustration.

“I’m sorry baby… anything I can do to help?” you offer, as if going to the building downtown and telling off their management would be any help.

He thinks for a moment before speaking up. “Yeah, actually…” Matt turns his head to you, a devilish smirk painted on his face. You raise a brow at him, having an idea of what could come of this whole situation. “Strip for me.” He states, moving to the edge of the bed.

Without a fight, you stand in front of Matt, undressing yourself piece by piece. His eyes glued to your body as you do so.

“So fuckin’ sexy…” Matt growls, pulling you onto his lap. Wrapping your manicured nails around his neck, he wastes no time attacking your lips in a searing kiss. His hands roaming down to cup your ass, he begins to rock you against his denim clad thigh.

“M-Matt…” you whine against his lips, your bare pussy leaving a wet spot on the fabric beneath you. Matt only hums in response, trailing harsh kisses down your jaw and right behind your ear.

“Gonna let me take my stress out on you?” He purrs in your ear, his breath tickling your skin. Matt bucks his hips up, letting you feel just how aroused he is.

You intensify your grinding, searching for any sort of friction you can. The feeling of his jeans against your clit being pure ecstasy. He doesn’t let you continue for too long though.

Flipping you over, he climbs on top of you. Simultaneously pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. Continuing to place wet kisses on your bare skin, he’s slowly making his way down to your heat, his nails gripping your thighs with vulgar intent.

“Mhm, so wet f’me already…” Matt’s voice tantalizing as he runs his index finger through your folds. He peers up at you, almost as if he’s seeking approval from you. When you meet his eyes with desperation, Matt doesn’t waver.

His tongue darts out, licking at your clit which causes you to arch your back off of the mattress. When he notices, he decides to add a finger into your sopping wet pussy, slowly stretching you out for his cock.

With vigorous flits of the tongue and his digits pumping in and out of you, you’re nearly already there. Your fingers grasping at his brunette strands in attempt to strengthen the pleasure.

“F-fuck…! Need your cock Matt…” your words are strung together in broken moans, Matt laps at your clit once more before hovering above you again. He fumbles with his jeans, speedily unzipping them, he wiggles the denim off of his body, followed by his briefs.

“How bad you need it, princess?” He teases, one hand stroking his already hard dick in preparation. The other hand holding him up above you.

“Don’t make me beg,” you pout, despite you words, you find yourself spreading your legs further apart. Matt chuckles, running his dick through your slick, eliciting a whimper from you.

Finally, he pushes himself inside of you, slowly stretching out your gummy walls at which you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, sure to leave crescent shaped imprints later.

“Shit- so perfect… pussy was made for me.” Matt croaks, his thrusts starting off slow, allowing you to adjust to his size. He leans down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips before he quickens his pace. Now standing on the hardwood floor, his rough hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as Matt fucks himself into you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your echoed moans bounce off of the walls of Matt’s bedroom. Your eyes pinch shut from pleasure, Matt taking in the sight of you spread out on his silk sheets.

“Look at you, my girl…” he continues to praise you, talk you through it. You’re a babbling mess beneath him, his cock ghosting your cervix with each brutal thrust. He pulls out, hastily flipping you over.

Instinctually, you arch your back, showing off your ass as your face is buried into one of his few pillows. It doesn’t take long for Matt to slip himself back inside of you. Now, his pace even faster than before— if even possible. Matt snakes a hand around your throat, gripping onto it as if to steady himself.

“Gonna- gonna cum!” You yelp, now squeezing your palms around his pillow. Matt doesn’t verbally respond to your words, instead, his hips move with vigor. Long, deep thrusts into your pussy. He can feel you tightening around him he knows you’re approaching your limit, though, he doesn’t care.

Your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him tight. You can feel the knot in your stomach— it’s about to snap in half. Your lewd moans are muffled by his pillow as your body shudders with each of your boyfriends thrusts.

Your body falls weak against his bed. Matt still slamming into you and he didn’t plan on stopping until he got his fix. He looks down at where the two of you are connected, his now cum coated base disappearing inside of you as slams your hips back toward his.

“Fuck- I can’t… sh-shit,” you mumble into the plush fabric. You could most definitely go for another round, maybe even two more rounds. It felt so fucking good. You didn’t want him to stop.

“Yes you can, I’ve- mm… fuck- I’ve seen you go longer.” He grunts between moans, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Matt continues his intense thrusts, not once slowing down.

Matt had rendered you speechless. The euphoric high from your previous orgasm still washing over you, the few coherent words you’re able to speak are nonsense.

“Got you fucked dumb? Look at you, all stupid on my dick. You love it baby.” Matt snickered, his own climax approaching. “Talk t’me, angel. Feel good?” He continues, in response, you reach behind you, grasping his wrists. “Feels fucking perfect for me- shit, you want me to cum in you?”

Given your current state, you’re shocked at the fact that Matt is even able to form complete sentences. Your grip on his wrists tightens and you whimper out a weak ‘yes’. Matt pulls you upward so you’re kneeling on the bed, your back against his chest.

He forces your head toward his own, connecting the two of you with a kiss. Matt whimpers against your lips, both of you feeling his cock twitch inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and inconsistent.

“Gonna fill you up so…fucking good…” he moans into your mouth. Prodding himself as deep as he can, you feel thick ropes of his cum shoot inside of you. The both of you panting and breathless from your interaction.

“Shit…” you sigh, Matt’s now softening cock still buried in your hole. He leans down, placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

“Always so good for me.” Matt chirps, his hands resting on your hips. You pull off of him, your juices and his dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“C’mon, gonna get you cleaned up.” Matt stands, offering his hand for you. “Feel much, much better now. Just letting you know.” He smirks, slapping your ass when you get off the bed.

“Mhm… glad I could help ‘ya.” You giggle, leaning up on your toes for yet another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[fatherbrat]

cw. hockey player!sukuna, college au, reader just became the team manager and doesn't know how to ice skate. shiu + satoru are also on the team. reader & sukuna do Not like each other. sfw, 1.5k words.

you hear the sound of the gym door slamming closed at the very same moment your butt hits the ice. again. 

your head whips around towards the door, wondering who else would come to the campus ice rink during winter break. everyone should be home, enjoying time with their families, or at least time away from school.

sukuna stands at the entrance, a duffle bag hanging over his right shoulder and two hockey sticks in his left hand. he just looks at you for a moment, his hostile expression heating your face. you catch the subtle curl of his upper lip and roll your eyes, turning back around and lifting yourself off the ground. you’re close enough to steady yourself on the ledge of the boards before you lose balance again.

you hear sukuna's footsteps echo in the empty gym, the keys clipped to his duffle bag rattling loudly. the sound stops abruptly once he's close enough to analyze you through the shielding.

"what are you doing in my rink?"

cool, cool, cool, cool. as if your sworn enemy walking in on you wet and cold and exhausted wasn't bad enough, he's gonna be a total dick about it too. (to be expected honestly.)

you shrug, still holding onto the ledge. "i can't be helpful to a hockey team if i can't ice skate."

sukuna sneers, muttering something you don't care to hear before heading off towards the locker rooms.

you know sukuna never wanted you to get hired on as team manager in the first place. unfortunately for him, the captain doesn’t get to veto the decision of the coach, who offered you the job the day after your interview. 

it's not even your fault. shiu and satoru are the ones who schemed and plotted for you to become their manager anyway. they encouraged you to go in for the interview even though you hadn’t even applied. (at least, you thought you hadn’t. turns out shiu submitted an application in your name while borrowing your laptop. you suspect him and satoru also “encouraged” their coach to pick you out of the dozens of other students who had applied.)

you manage to fall three more times before sukuna comes out of the locker room dressed in his practice gear. he sits down on the bench where you’d abandoned your things to put on his skates and you sigh, preparing to scoot out of the rink. 

when he steps on the ice and glides towards you, you aren’t expecting him to hold his hands out for you to grab. he yanks you up with too much force and you nearly tumble again. your cheek meets his chest, face smushed up against him while your hands are still in his. he lets go, instead grabbing you by your upper arms and forcing you upright.

“bend your knees,” he says, voice steely.

you just blink, stunned that he’s not carrying you off the ice and demanding you go home. it takes you too long, but you bend your knees slightly and look up at sukuna, silently waiting for more instruction. 

“stop trying to walk on the ice. this isn’t walking, it’s skating. march.”

sukuna spends the next three hours teaching you the basics of ice skating. you fall some more, but it hurts less after he tells you to fall on your side and stop flailing. he reprimands you for always staying within arms reach of the wall, something about it stunting the learning process or whatever. you don’t touch any of the ledges again, your arms mostly staying extended out in front of you. his directions are harsh, but by the time it’s dark outside you’ve managed to skate your way around the perimeter of the rink nearly a dozen times without falling.

you almost squeal with joy after the tenth loop, opting instead to raise your arms in the air and smile wide. sukuna just nods once, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“okay, you’re good for now. buy a new pair of skates, it’ll be easier on sharper blades. those rentals suck. and you didn’t tie them right.” his tone is no different than it was when he first entered the building, as if talking to you is a chore he has to get out of the way. maybe a couple years ago it would’ve made you shrink, but now it just pisses you off more than anything.

you nod slowly, making a mental note to ask satoru where you should buy skates from (and wondering if you can convince him to buy them for you). sukuna makes a dramatic sweeping motion with both his arms, gesturing towards the exit. 

“can i have my rink back now?” he asks, arms still outstretched.

you roll your eyes but don’t argue, his reward for successfully teaching you how to skate. you even mutter a thank you as you glide past him, but he just waves you away.

he starts to set up for drills as you untie your borrowed skates, dropping little orange cones on the ice in some intricate zig zag pattern. you watch him for a moment before your phone rings, vibrating the entire bench.

a picture of you and satoru lights up the screen, his name dancing across the top. sukuna gives you a pointed glare when you answer it without making any move to leave.

“hi ‘toru.”

he greets you excitedly from the other end. “we’ve been texting you all day,” he whines, probably referring to him and shiu. “where’ve you been?”

you smile. “i, uh, came back to school early. the thought of managing a hockey team while not being able to skate was actually haunting me, so i came to practice a little.”

satoru fusses about how you should have told him and that he would have come back to teach you in a heartbeat, but you just brush him off. 

“i didn’t need you. i made it around the rink ten times in a row without falling. i’m basically a pro now.” your voice drips with pride and you’re sure satoru can hear your grin.

“oh yeah? who taught you how to do that?”

it only takes you two seconds to decide you do not want him to know about your impromptu skating lesson with his captain. satoru already knows all the unsavory details about your previous spats with sukuna, and you know he’d tell shiu immediately, who would be quick to interrogate you about it. he'd probably tease sukuna about it too, which would probably make the man hate you more. you wouldn't even blame him. shiu's teasing can be incessant.

“nobody did. i taught myself,” you say.

you swear you see sukuna stiffen out on the ice, and when he turns to face you the look on his face can only be described as malicious. it’s enough to make you immediately gather your things and rush out of the building. you feel his eyes crawling over you all the way from the bench to the double doors.

a blast of icy wind shocks your system when you step outside. satoru’s talking, saying something about how he can be back on campus by tomorrow night, and how he can probably get shiu to come with. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to come back early just because you did, but the look on sukuna’s face still has you a little rattled.

not for the first time, dread slithers its way up from your gut. shiu was the one who ultimately convinced you that becoming the manager for the hockey team would be a good idea. good for your resume, good for the team, a good way to get to hang out more often. at the time, you thought he was right. he’s not really wrong now, but you worry that you and the captain’s mutual dislike for each other will get in the way.

satoru says your name, and the way he says it sounds like he’s been repeating it for a while.

“yeah hey, sorry i’m here.”

“you okay?” he asks.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” the walk from the ice rink to the parking lot is unnecessarily long, something you’ve heard satoru complain about many, many times. “i’m just walking to my car. it’s so fucking cold. there’s no reason for the parking lot to be this far away.”

“ugh, i know,” satoru huffs. he asks again if you want him to come up early. you say yes.

the two of you hang up when you make it to your car. your phone vibrates with a text from shiu a couple minutes later. you’re still sitting there in the parking lot, blasting the heat and trying to figure out how to make the next few months of school bearable. 

maybe sukuna will suddenly transfer schools in the middle of the semester. or do something that gets him benched for the rest of the season. or get hit by a car. yeah. any of those would be good.

you can only hope.

a/n. this is part of a kinda larger enemies-to-lovers thing i'm building and i just wanted to get this off my chest. i hope it still made sense with minimal context (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: pre-seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au warnings: spencer and reader are roommates !!! reader wears Miss Dior. a/n: so very sorry for not posting in so long! got busy with extracurriculars and uni started up again :( big thank you to @januaryembrs and @hotchfiles for reading through this first !! wc: 1.04k you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

Spencer officially joins the BAU late July once he completed his time at the FBI academy. It wasn’t necessarily fair for the other agents who hoped and prayed that they would be the lucky someone who would get to join the extremely elusive Behavioural Analysis Unit upon graduation, especially because he was the one who was chosen by name by the esteemed Jason Gideon. It also wasn’t necessarily fair to get home after four long egregious months of constant movement and firearm training to his roommate.

“You’re home!” 

He grimaces a little bit, dropping his heavy suitcases and bags at the doorway with a heavy sigh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’d bet! You’ve got more things than you left with!” You’re beaming, taking his new FBI registered duffle bag out of his hands and into the living room. “Your hair is so long now.”

“I feel like a wet dog,” he grumbles, pushing the strands out of his face. “Were you okay with rent? I’ll pay you back and everything–”

You laugh, shaking your head and pulling him to sit on the couch by the wrists. “It’s okay, Spence, relax. One of my friends needed a temporary place to stay, so I really only needed to pay a couple weeks of rent by myself. You’re probably starving, aren’t you? I’ve got pizza on the way.”

His cheeks burn at the contact, his throat going dry and his head almost as if it’s about to explode. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you repeat, beaming. Your fingers tug at the FBI windbreaker he’s sporting– big on his shoulders and long at the hips. “This is new. You went shopping without me?”

“Gideon insisted I get more FBI uniform,” he explains hurriedly, “he said it’d made me feel more ‘official’. They didn’t have any more in my size.”

“It’s cute! Give us a spin, Walter.” 

He does it half-begrudgingly, rising from the couch pillows and doing an awkward spin. He used to be used to it, before he went away for four months to train at the academy. He’ll need to get re-used to it, he supposes. 

“You look very official,” you say with genuinity, grinning ear to ear. “Got anything else?”

His nose scrunches in distaste as he sits back down. “There’s meant to be more?”

“The uniform isn’t just a jacket, is it?” You ask with furrowed brows. “The bag is a nice touch, though.”

“They said that I should get the polo, but I don’t think I’d ever wear it,” he explains, going through his things. They’d all need a good wash, he decides, throwing his clothes onto the floor. “There isn’t a uniform policy at the BAU, though. Just to be clean and tidy.”

“You’re already a pro at that, aren’t you, Walter?” 

His cheeks glow at your jest and he kicks at the pile of clothes at his feet. “You don’t think I’m weird, do you?”

“Weird for… being clean and tidy?” You blink, poking at his shoulder. “If that’s what weird is, then I hope there are a lot of other guys who are weird.”

“That’s an oxymoron.”

“Exactly.” He catches your smile as you speak. “It’s not a bad thing to be different. You know that, don’t you?”

“In theory,” he responds vaguely.

You huff, “You ought to remember it with that big brain of yours.”

“There’s no significant correlation between brain size and intelligence,” Spencer reminds you again, shrugging his jacket off. “You should remember that, too.”

*** 

It’s an incredibly cold November morning, just a couple of days after Halloween, and Spencer has been tearing up and down the apartment in search of his windbreaker. The team are set for Alaska this time around, and though his sweaters and wool socks provide some warmth, it was nothing compared to the inner pockets of his FBI assigned windbreaker that hold heat warmers. 

“Have you seen it?” He asks hurriedly, rushing through the living room. “I need to leave in three minutes or I’ll miss my train–”

“Seen what?” You ask, frowning as you fill his travel mug with hot coffee and sugar. “What are you looking for?”

“My jacket,” he explains halfheartedly. “You know the one.”

You let out a breath of a laugh, moving to the bathroom and pulling it off the hook. “Spencer?”

He visibly relaxes, taking it from your hands with a hint of embarrassment. “Oh.”

“You let me borrow it after you picked me up from the Halloween party, don’t you remember?” The corners of your lips quirk upwards in jest as his expression shifts into that of realisation. “I put it behind the door so that you could find it easier. Not that it helped, clearly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, cheeks pink in the light. “Thank you. See you later.”

“See you later,” you agree, and he’s already out the door, his jacket and travel mug in tow.

*** 

“Good morning,” JJ says, her bright blue eyes drowsy with sleep despite her greeting. “Are you guys ready to go?”

Spencer nods, zipping up the windbreaker and snapping the buttons together. Even in Virginia it’s still freezing. He doesn’t want to imagine how cold it’d be in Alaska. 

“Someone smells nice,” JJ chirps with a grin. “Is that– is that Miss Dior?”

“What?” Spencer sniffs, frowning. “Who?”

“The perfume?” She repeats the name, her brows flushed together. “I’m not crazy.”

“Is that Miss Dior?” Hotch asks in bemusement, sniffing the air. He looks at Jennifer with a mix of appreciation and a nod to say good taste. “Haley used to wear it all through college.”

“I’m not wearing it,” JJ insists, shaking her head with a laugh. “Spence?”

He’s barely paying attention to the conversation, frantically Googling an image of whatever the hell Miss Dior is. He’s met with the familiar rectangular bottle with pink liquid and a bow on the neck, something that he’s seen on your dresser multiple times. 

“My roommate,” he groans, covering his face with the palms of his hands. “She borrowed my jacket a couple days ago.”

“Ooh, a lady friend,” JJ snickers, “and she borrowed your jacket. How gentlemanly of you.”

Spencer sends you a long text message about the importance of not spraying perfume on clothes once he gets off the jet.

reblogs are always appreciated !!

you are on part 1! | part 2 | part 3

[salemrph]

Stay with me, Sylus

A/N: I just needed this moment after Magnum Opus. The yearning, the love, and the soft moment between Sylus and us... I can't get enough of it. So this is my little fantasy of how it should have ended.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 950 | Reading Time: 3 min | AO3

You walked Sylus to the door. This date was something you needed, even when you were tired and exhausted from the previous missions. Having Sylus around made you feel relaxed. Your new dynamic was heartwarming. And even if you didn’t quite understand why this man was so persistent about getting hiking gear, you were glad he used that excuse to come visit you.

Your back-and-forth, the way you both danced around the real matter, was something that might never change. The ironic way Sylus said:

"We’re dating now? Should I bring you roses next time?"

It made you smile, and of course, you didn’t miss a beat, asking for the roses with the most thorns.

You didn’t want him to leave. And he wasn’t in a rush, either. So he stayed, half in the corridor, half at your door. He keeps talking, stretching the moment to part. His words were coated in honey, filled with those promises he never made lightly. Because everything he had ever said he would do, he had kept his word.

Your heart flutters as if a thousand butterflies have taken flight, and you find yourself gripping the door frame without realizing it. 

“Are you just going to… stand there all day?” you asked. His red eyes flicked to you, amused. 

“I could camp here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” He smirked, taking a slow step closer. “You always dance around the real question, though. It's charming.”

You exhaled sharply “Do you-” You hesitated, suddenly unable to finish the sentence.

Sylus tilted his head. Leaning in, placing one arm on the door frame. “Do I?” 

“You know.” You gestured vaguely, as if that would clarify anything. “Want to Stay over.”

The smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. “I suppose that depends.”

“On?”

“Whether the couch is still my designated territory, or if I’m being upgraded to… somewhere else.” His voice was teasing. 

Heat crept up your neck. You huffed. “Why do you say things like that?”

“Because it’s fun watching you try to untangle them.” He took another step closer. Too close now, the air between you shrinking, charged. “But if you’d rather be direct, just tell me where you want me.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, your entire brain short-circuiting at that choice of words. Sylus chuckled, clearly enjoying this too much.

“I-” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to find a way to say it without actually saying it. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Sylus hummed, pretending to consider. “So that means…”

You groaned. “It means you can sleep wherever you want.”

At that, something shifted, without warning he closed the distance entirely. Pulling you against him, one hand on your back and the other still on the door frame. The heat of him is impossible to ignore.

“Wherever I want?” he murmured. Your pulse stuttered. You don't want him to leave but the way he makes you blush so easily is annoying. He is so annoying. You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. 

“N- not anywhere, but if you’re so into camping, do it in the living room” you muttered, half angry. 

Sylus smirked. He definitely caught that hesitation.

His fingers brushed your lower back before suddenly pinching lightly at your side, making you hitch and instinctively press closer into him. The reaction was immediate, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up. You barely had time to swat at his hand before he stepped fully into your apartment again.

The door clicked shut behind him. His back rested against it as he tugged you into his arms again, dragging you effortlessly against his god-blessed body. The space between you vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of him, the way his breath fanned against your temple. Your fingers pressed against his chest, an attempt to put some distance between you, but the moment you tried to escape, his grip tightened. 

“Kitten,” he drawled, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “You were the one telling me I should be more direct and now you’re stumbling around?”

Your jaw clenched, your body betraying you even as you tried to resist giving him the satisfaction. The heat from him seeped into your skin, making it impossible to think clearly, to ignore the way your pulse stuttered against his touch. You swallowed hard, tilting your chin up in defiance, even though your face was already burning.

“It’s different when you do it.”

Sylus grinned, amused how you twist things in your favor. “Oh, I see.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He exhaled, his breath brushing against your cheek as he leaned in, close enough that his lips nearly grazed your skin. “You are making this difficult, sweetie,” he murmured. His breath  sends a shiver down your back. “Do you want me to push a little more?”

And then, just when you thought he might close the distance, just when your pulse spiked up, just when your fingers curled slightly against his chest, he pulled back.

"Say it."

You clicked your tongue, the spell breaking, pulling you back just enough to remember who you were dealing with.

“Fine…” you muttered, lowering your head for a brief moment, biting your lip. It’s only fair, you told yourself, trying to ignore how your heart pounded against your ribs. Slowly, you looked up again, your gaze locking with his, losing yourself in his eyes.

“Sylus…” The word lingered between you, a breath, a confession.

"You can sleep in my bed…"

The word left your lips like a surrender, and his expression shifted. Something that told you he wasn’t planning on letting you get much sleep tonight.

[downbad4sylus]

“You kept your name”

(part 2 to “I killed you”)

synopsis: You and Sylus take a ride to an eerily familiar field of flowers on the outskirts of the N109 Zone.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; pre-relationshipish; cameo from the twins; smol angst; tooth-rotting fluff; kissing; possibly canon divergence (i make shit up about present-day sylus since we don’t have all the answers yet); mostly proofread

word count: ~3k (whoops)

tags: @evilldentists; @midiplier; @chillycheem

a/n: incredibly grateful for all the love for the first part so hope you all enjoy the second part just as much!!! anyone interested in a nsfw special part 3 >>;;;)))))

You had a much easier time falling back to sleep than you thought you would. Perhaps the exhaustion of reliving your past coupled with a weight you didn’t even realize you’d had finally being lifted off your shoulders.

When morning came, you woke again nestled in the same position you’d fallen asleep in, head resting on Sylus’s chest listening to his unusually rapid heartbeat. Though now, you supposed, it wasn’t quite so unusual.

You lifted your head and found Sylus still asleep. It was rare for you to wake before him, and you always took the time to admire his sleeping face. Carefully, you ghosted a finger toward his face, intent on lightly tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips—

Sylus’s hand snatched your wrist. “Having fun?” he drawled, not even opening his eyes.

“You ruined my fun before I could start,” you whined, sticking out your bottom lip.

Sylus chuckled and laced his fingers through yours. “Surely you’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

“I guess,” you muttered.

“How generous.”

You propped yourself up by your forearm as Sylus finally opened his eyes to meet your own. “Are you sure it’s okay we go? I know you don’t like being out during the day.”

He brought your linked hands to his face, twisting them to brush his lips along the back of yours. “I’ll be fine,” he assured. “It’s supposed to be overcast today anyway.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

“I always am with you, sweetie.”

Your heart squeezed. Such an innocuous statement yet it held profound meaning.

Sylus sucked in a deep breath. “Let me at least make us breakfast first before we go.”

You perked up. You loved it when Sylus cooked for you. “Do I get to sit at the island and watch?”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

Hardly able to contain your excitement, you leapt out of bed, dragging Sylus along with you out of the bedroom, into the hallway, all the way to the kitchen. You didn’t even give the man a chance to put on pants.

Rather than sitting at the island, as it was much too far away from him, you perched on the counter beside the stove, watching Sylus expertly cook two perfect omelets. Once they were plated, you both sat at the island, so close your thighs were touching. Before you could pick up your fork and knife, however, Sylus had already cut a piece of his omelet and was holding it in front of your face.

“Open,” he commanded.

You obeyed, cheeks heating as you opened your mouth and he placed the bite on your tongue.

“Now close,” he purred, sliding the fork from your lips, eyes trained intently on yours. “Good kitten.”

Trying very hard not to choke, you chewed the savory bite, moaning at how good it was. Sylus’s lips twitched in smug satisfaction.

“It’s so good, Sy,” you said after you swallowed, already digging in to the omelet on your own plate.

“Only the best for you, sweetie,” Sylus quipped, taking a bite himself.

Sylus insisted on feeding you once he scarfed down his omelet faster than you could keep track of. You protested at first, saying you weren’t a child, but when he pinched your chin and drawled in that deep, silky voice of his “You’ll be a good kitten for me, won’t you?” you folded instantly.

Cheeks as red as his eyes, you let Sylus start feeding you the remaining half of your omelet, losing yourself in the intimate moment—

“Boss? Miss Hunter?”

Your head whipped to the side before you could take the bite Sylus offered, eyes going wide when you found Luke and Kieran standing at the edge of the kitchen. Even with their masks on, you knew they had shit-eating grins on their faces.

“Uh, hi…guys,” you muttered, swiveling on the stool, giving them your back, too embarrassed to face them.

“Were we interrupting something?” Kieran asked.

Sylus placed a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Just breakfast,” he stated simply.

“Why are you having breakfast, Boss?” Luke asked. “You aren’t usually awake at this time.”

“Y/N and I are going on an impromptu trip today, which means you’re both in charge while I’m gone.” His voice took a bit of a sharp edge as he said, “I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Of course, Boss,” said Luke.

“You can count on us!” finished Kieran.

Sylus hummed in approval, squeezing your thigh. You looked over at him and was surprised that he was holding another piece of omelet for you to eat.

“Sylus,” you hissed, eyes darting over to where the twins now stood across the island. Did this man have no shame?

He tilted his head. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked teasingly. “Not hungry anymore?”

“Can we have the rest of your omelet, Miss Hunter?”

You turned again, now looking at the twins. The thought of having them witness Sylus feeding you was enough to make you lose what was left of your appetite.

You snatched the fork from Sylus’s hand, threw it onto the plate, and pushed it toward the twins. “Knock yourselves out.”

They cheered their thanks and immediately dug in, lifting their masks only enough so they could shovel fork fulls into their mouths. You ignored Sylus’s frown and instead grabbed his wrist, leading him from the kitchen back to his bedroom.

Around a half hour later, you and Sylus had changed (the man had a closet full of clothes just for you, obviously) and were making your way to his bike.

Staring at the sleek motorcycle, you wondered idly if Sylus preferred riding to driving because it reminded him of flying. You’d ridden on the back of his bike enough times to know he frequently ignored speed limits and you’d even caught him a few times without a helmet. You weren’t sure if the half-crazed lecture you’d given him about not caring about his safety actually got through to him, but Sylus made sure to have a helmet on every time you saw him after that. Not that it mattered, only you could kill him anyway, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to get injured.

Knuckles rapping softly on your forehead tore you from your thoughts.

“Did I lose you, kitten?” Sylus asked with a smirk.

“Sorry,” you breathed. “I was just…thinking.”

His head tilted. “About what?”

You gnawed at your bottom lip, unsure whether to share said thoughts with him.

Sylus pressed his thumb against your lip, tugging it free from your teeth. “Don’t bite your lip,” he murmured. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

“I was wondering if you like riding your bike because it reminds you of flying.”

His brows twitched closer, his lips teasing a frown. You instantly regretted what you’d confessed, the last thing you wanted was to upset him.

“I’m not upset,” he said, easily reading your facial expression. “Just a bit caught off guard.”

“Why?”

“Because you only just remembered our past and you’ve already figured me out.”

You thought back to the puzzle pieces that had been put in place after you’d woken from your memories, how easy it was to understand the Sylus before you now and how his actions reflected the Sylus you’d known then.

You smiled. “I feel like it’s less impressive when you’ve had an advantage over me this whole time,” you protested jokingly. “You figured me out pretty quick, too.”

Sylus chuckled. “I guess that makes us even then.” He reached behind him, grabbing the helmet he’d gotten for you (yes, it had cat ears), and hooked a finger under your chin, tilting it up. “You ready?”

“Yes,” you answered firmly.

He placed the helmet over your head, buckling the strap beneath your chin, and gave it a soft tap when he was finished. He then put on his own helmet before swinging his long leg over the seat, gesturing for you to join behind him.

Seated on the bike, arms wrapped securely around Sylus’s waist, he took off onto the streets of the N109. Your surroundings blurred as he weaved his way through the zone, heading toward the outskirts.

Closing your eyes, you imagined you were on his back while he flew you through the sky. It was freeing, affording you a newfound appreciation for rides with Sylus. Perhaps now they could be reminiscent of the past for the both of you, not just him.

It didn’t take long before the N109 Zone faded into the background, Sylus now riding down a long stretch of road with open fields on either side. There were no flowers though, so you wondered where, exactly, he was taking you.

Your destination became clear however, when a shock of red greeted you on either side of the road.

Sylus slowed the bike to a halt, kicking down the stand and cutting the engine. As he took off his helmet, you remained still, looking out at the field of red flowers that was just like the one in your shared dream. How was this possible? Was it merely a coincidence that these fields existed in this lifetime too?

Your helmet being unbuckled and lifted off your head broke you from your stupor and you found Sylus standing in front of you, waiting patiently with a hand outstretched. You took it, letting him support you as you climbed off the bike. He laced your fingers together once both your feet were on solid ground, and led you forward, into the flowers.

It was surreal, walking through the field beside Sylus. It felt like two worlds colliding, past and present melding together. It made your heart flutter with excitement knowing that this time would be different. This time you’d be damned if you didn’t get your happy ending.

Sylus stopped abruptly, giving you no warning before plopping onto the ground, dragging you down with him. You squealed as you fell into his lap, giggling as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

The first time Sylus found this field of flowers, no different from the one outside of Tarus City, he’d nearly been brought to his knees. He wasn’t one to believe in signs but this one felt undeniable, too much of a coincidence to not mean something. It was before you’d officially met, but it gave him an unfounded confidence that once you did, he’d have his beloved again. He’d promised himself then that he wouldn’t come back here unless it was with you, and now, he’d fulfilled that promise.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, threading your fingers through Sylus’s soft hair.

He hummed, the noise vibrating against your skin. He placed a single, chaste kiss on your pulse point before pulling away and meeting your gaze. “Ask your questions,” he said gently.

You pursed your lips as you decided where to start. “Are you still a dragon?”

Sylus huffed, amused. “Well,” he began, sucking in a breath, “yes and no.”

You raised a brow in silent command for him to continue.

“I’m more human than I am dragon now, but not fully either,” he said.

That certainly explained the strange comments he would make every so often.

“Do you still have wings?”

He nodded.

“Horns?”

Another nod.

“Tail?”

“Yes, kitten, all three.”

You looked at his head, thinking if you stared hard enough, his horns would appear. “But…where are they?”

“Hidden away by my Evol,” Sylus answered. “It takes a lot of energy to do so.”

“Is that why the sunlight bothers you? Is it easier to keep them hidden during the night?”

Sylus smirked. “Clever kitten,” he said, all the confirmation you needed. “What else?”

“Can I see them?” you blurted.

His brows rose in surprise. “Not right now.” When you pouted, he added, “Some other time, when we’re in private.”

“Fine,” you relented. You glanced down at where his arms encircled your waist and slid a hand over one of his. “The linkage is my doing.”

“That’s not a question,” Sylus teased.

“I know,” you said. “Just wanted to get it out in the open, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“When did you realize it was my curse?” you asked instead.

“The first time,” he said simply.

You snorted. “Of course you did.” You lifted your head to meet his striking red eyes. “Is there anything you’re bad at?”

Sylus barked a laugh, causing your heart rate to increase. “I’m sure there’s a few, but I haven’t figured out any of them yet.”

“Ugh, your arrogance is immeasurable sometimes.”

But you still love me, was what Sylus wanted to say, but settled on, “What other questions do you have for me?”

A thought occurred to you suddenly and you sat up straighter in his lap, brows drawing together. “Did you make me shoot you to see if I actually wanted you dead?”

The bastard grinned. “Maybe.”

You slapped his shoulder. “Sylus!”

He was laughing, but damn it did you love to hear him laugh. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

You shook your head. “You’re insane, that’s what you are.”

“An important trait needed for the leader of Onychinus, something you haven’t shied away from.”

“Guess I’m a bit insane as well,” you muttered.

“Guess so,” Sylus agreed, smiling.

You softened, unable to stay annoyed with him when he looked at you with such tenderness, something he reserved only for you.

You reached up and lightly traced beneath his right eye. “You kept your name.”

“If you couldn’t pronounce my true name, I’m pretty sure no one else would be able to either,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right, Sylus is much easier to pronounce.”

“And it was given to me by my beloved, how could I not keep it?” he murmured.

His beloved. You were his beloved, then and now.

And he was still your dragon, even if the dragon part was currently hidden.

You leaned away from him, something he nearly growled at, but stopped himself when he watched you pick a nearby flower. With a soft smile, you tucked it behind his ear, then slid your hand down to his chest, the same spot you’d once placed a flower in his scales. The same spot he’d hidden the brooch that allowed you free passage through his territory.

“Flowers suit you better than the N109 Zone,” you murmured.

A heartbreakingly tender smile lifted the corners of Sylus’s lips. “That’s the first time someone said those words to me.”

You felt like crying.

“Only you and this flower”—his eyes flicked toward his ear—“can touch me here.”

Sylus picked a flower of his own and placed it in your hair, then cupped your face, running his thumb along your cheek.

Feeling such an undeniable pull toward him despite being already so physically close, you shifted in Sylus’s lap to straddle his hips, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sucked in a sharp breath at the new position, the hand on your face sliding to brace the back of your head.

Running your fingers through the hair at his nape, your eyes darted between his and his lips.

“Do you have any more questions?” he asked breathlessly.

“Just one,” you said.

“What is it?”

“Can the N109 Zone have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see?”

“Only for one person.”

Sylus’s lips crashed into yours.

He was firm but gentle, angling your head right where he wanted you as his tongue swept over your bottom lip. You opened for him, whimpering when his tongue slid along yours.

Sylus’s kiss was claiming, taking what was rightfully his. He’d been waiting for this moment since he first laid eyes on you in this lifetime. Waiting for his beloved to come back to him.

Tightening his grip on you, Sylus flipped you onto your back, his body pressing against yours, all without breaking the kiss.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on his strands. Between kisses you managed, “I want…to touch…your horns.”

Sylus groaned and you felt it rumble through his chest. He finally broke away from your lips only to trail open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your neck. “Not here,” he said roughly.

You would’ve been more upset had his lips not felt like heaven on your skin.

“Sylus,” you said, pulling his hair to get his attention.

He lifted his head, his cheeks flushed and ears red. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, cupping his warm cheek. He nuzzled against your palm. “I love you, Sylus.”

Air whooshed from his lungs and his lips were on yours again. Your souls may have been bound but Sylus was still in disbelief by your confession, even though you’d all but said it last night. Fate—who had always been cruel to him—had finally turned in his favor. There was no curse to separate you this time, only one to keep you by his side. This was a second chance for the both of you, to love each other freely, to explore what life could truly be like together, and now that he had you, Sylus would scorch the earth before he ever let you go again.

He drew back, waiting for you to look him in the eyes before saying, “I love you too, Y/N.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh, tears welling as you stared at the man you loved. Your dragon, with you once again.

Sylus’s loving gaze took on a dangerous glint. “How about we head back to the base and I’ll show you my horns, sweetie?”

With a wide grin, you nodded. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

Sylus chuckled, placing one last kiss against your lips before hefting you off the ground.

Then hand-in-hand, dragon and sorceress, having been given a second chance at love, walked through a field of flowers where once life ended but now a new one could begin.

[kirammanswifey]

hello!!! I really enjoy reading your writing, always reading them like it's a bedtime story lol. I was wondering how arcane characters would react with you wearing their clothes. like after a long day they come home and see you in their clothes or like you fall in a puddle and they give you their clothes to wear, anything you want

thank you for your words, sweetheart, you just made my day, hope you like this ;)

how arcane characters would react to you wearing their clothes (fem reader, romance/fluff)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love you, person who asked for this. this kind of dynamics are fun because you can write it from many perspectives and use several genres, and i love a fluff with a little bit of spicy. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the door closing behind you seems louder in the silence of the room. The rain hasn't stopped outside, and each drop seems to remind you how soaked you are. Your wet clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin, and you decide you can't stay like this. You look around, and your eyes land on one of Viktor's shirts, casually draped over the back of a chair. You know he won’t mind, so you grab it and head to the bathroom to change.

The soft fabric of Viktor's shirt, slightly oversized for you, falls over your shoulders, enveloping you in its characteristic scent—a mix of old paper, ink, and something you've always associated with him. You feel a little warmer, wrapped in something so intimately his.

Soon after, you hear the familiar click of Viktor’s cane in the hallway. He’s back home after a long day at the lab. You know he must be exhausted too, but you still feel a little nervous about how he’ll react to seeing you in his clothes.

The door opens slowly, and Viktor steps inside. His slender figure pauses for a moment when he sees you, his amber eyes studying you with a mix of surprise and something else you can't fully identify. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can see his normally neutral expression gradually soften.

“Did you have a rough day?” he finally asks, his voice soft and concerned as he closes the door behind him.

You nod, fiddling with the long sleeves of the shirt that come down almost to the middle of your hands. “Yeah, I got caught in the rain on my way back,” you explain. “I changed so I wouldn’t soak everything, hope you don’t mind me wearing your shirt.”

He takes a few steps toward you, leaning slightly on his cane. His eyes linger on you, but this time there’s a warmth in them that he rarely shows. “I don’t mind at all,” he says, a faint smile curving his lips. “Though I must admit, it looks better on you than I expected.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at his comment, and he seems to notice, because his smile widens slightly. Viktor rarely makes such remarks, but when he does, they always leave you momentarily speechless.

“Come here,” he says gently, extending his free hand toward you. “You’re shivering. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours. He leads you to the couch and helps you sit. “I’ll make something warm for you. Wait here.”

You watch as he moves toward the kitchen, his steps careful and precise. As you watch him, you can’t help but feel a mix of tenderness and admiration. Viktor is always so considerate, even when he’s exhausted.

A few minutes later, he returns with a steaming cup of tea. He sits next to you, offering it with a look that reflects both concern and something more intimate. “Drink slowly, it’s hot.”

You take a sip, feeling the warmth spread from your throat to your chest. “Thanks, darling. You always know how to take care of me.”

He looks at you, his expression more relaxed now. “It’s natural to want to take care of someone who means so much to you,” he says with a sincerity that makes your heart race.

You set the cup down on the table, turning toward him. “And you? How was your day?”

Viktor leans back against the couch, his gaze drifting for a moment. “It was... long. But seeing you here, wearing my shirt, makes it all worth it.”

His words are simple, but the weight behind them hits you hard. You lean toward him, taking his hand in yours. “I like wearing your clothes. It makes me feel close to you, like I’m carrying a piece of you with me.”

Viktor looks at you, his expression softening even more. “Then you should wear them more often,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and tenderness. “Though it might be hard to get them back if you look this good in them.”

You smile, feeling completely at home in this little world you’ve built together. “Maybe I’ll never return them,” you joke, enjoying the soft laugh that escapes his lips.

He leans in a little closer, his hand gently caressing yours. “That wouldn’t be a problem. I can always buy more, but seeing you like this... that’s something priceless.”

Jinx

You're at Jinx's hideout after a day full of adventures in Zaun. You had been helping her with some of her projects, and amidst all the excitement and chaos, you ended up with your clothes completely ruined, covered in paint and grease stains.

"Wow, wow! Look at you!" Jinx says, laughing as she points at your shirt and pants. "Looks like your clothes lost the battle against my masterpiece."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yeah, looks like I need a change of clothes urgently."

Without missing a beat, Jinx jumps towards one of her wardrobes, rummaging through her quirky collection of garments. "I know! Put this on." She pulls out a black crop top and one of her signature jackets—blue with neon details—and tosses them to you with a mischievous grin. "You'll look awesome. Trust me."

After taking off your dirty clothes, you put on the crop top and finish with the jacket. "How do I look?" you ask, spinning around so Jinx can see.

She watches you with a growing smile. Her blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she quickly approaches, tugging at the sleeves to adjust them on your arms. "Oh, for the love of explosions! You look amazing! It's like this jacket was made for you!" Jinx steps back to admire you better, placing a hand on her chin as if evaluating a piece of art.

"It's not what I usually wear, but your style suits me better than I thought," you say, feeling the warmth of her gaze.

Jinx claps, thrilled. "I knew it! I knew it! My instincts never fail." Then, her eyes light up even more, as if she just had the most brilliant idea in the world. "I know! From now on, we could wear matching outfits. It'd be awesome! You and me, matching styles, taking Zaun by storm as an unstoppable duo."

You laugh at her enthusiasm. "Matching outfits? That sounds... interesting."

"No, no, no! It sounds absolutely amazing," she insists, giving you a quick spin to see how the jacket fits from all angles. Suddenly, her eyes stop on the back of the jacket, and an even bigger smile spreads across her face.

"What is it, sweets?" you ask, noticing her fixed gaze.

"Well... look at the back," she says with a mischievous laugh.

You turn to see the back of the jacket and realize that, in big letters, it has "Jinx" written on it. You turn back to her with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile. "So, you're marking your territory or what? You don't want anyone getting confused about whose jacket this is?"

Jinx bursts into laughter, throwing herself at you and wrapping her arms around you. "Exactly! Now everyone will know you're mine... or at least rocking my style! It's perfect, right?"

You join her laughter, wrapping your arms around her. "Aw sweets, I didn't know you were the type to mark your territory."

She shrugs with a cheeky grin, her face close to yours. "Well, I don't want anyone else claiming my girl. Now everyone will know if they see you, they're looking at half of our dynamic duo!"

Jinx's energy is contagious, and although you know this situation is completely crazy, you can't help but feel comfortable and cherished by her. "Well, I guess I have no choice but to embrace my new look," you say with a smile.

"That's it! Now, with this jacket and my name on your back, we'll be unstoppable!" Jinx leans in, putting an arm around your shoulders and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Vi

You’d had a bad day. The city of Zaun wasn’t exactly friendly, and after a stumble, you ended up in a puddle full of dirty water with a nauseating smell you couldn't even describe. As you walked towards Vi’s place, with your legs soaked and irritation taking over, all you could think about was how lucky you were to have Vi to vent to and shake off this bad day.

When you arrived at her door, frustration and exhaustion were written all over your face. You knocked on the door, and as always, Vi opened it with a teasing smile, though upon seeing you like this, her expression changed to a mix of concern and amusement.

“What happened to you?” she asked with a playful grin, noticing the discouragement on your face.

"Zaun," you grunted, almost growling as you stepped inside. "I fell into a puddle. Everything stinks."

Vi let out a soft laugh. “Wow! You must be thrilled. Are you sure you're not going to become Zaun's new statue?” she said in her sarcastic tone, but there was something more in her eyes. A hidden concern behind her teasing tone.

“I’m not in the mood,” you muttered as you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. The sensation of the hot water was comforting, and after a few minutes, you managed to feel like some of your bad day had washed away. However, upon exiting, you realized you didn’t have anything else to wear.

Vi, always attentive to these details, had left one of her favorite shirts on the bed. The red shirt, which always fit you loosely and had, over time, become something you wore more often. You put it on without thinking too much. The smell of Vi on the garment gave you a sense of calm, but at the same time, the tension that had always existed between you grew a bit more.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Vi was in the living room, lying back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. She watched you silently as you entered, a gleam in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. The shirt, oversized on you, moved with each of your steps, and despite how awkward the situation could be, you felt incredibly drawn to her gaze.

Vi sat up straight, her eyes fixed on you. The smile that spread across her face was almost predatory. “So, you’re wearing it again, huh?” Her voice was soft, but there was a touch of challenge and desire in it that you couldn’t ignore. “You look... interesting.”

You shrugged, though the way she looked at you made you feel more exposed than you’d like. “You left it there for me, Vi. And yes, I like wearing it, it's comfortable.” But as you spoke, her eyes didn’t leave you, scanning you from top to bottom with that intensity that always made time seem to stop.

Vi approached slowly, her steps sure, almost as if she was savoring every second that passed near you. “Just comfortable? Are you sure?” Her voice was lower now, filled with a dangerous softness. “Because that shirt... it’s kind of sexy. And it seems like it’s not just the shirt. It’s like you’re saying, ‘I’m yours,’ but without saying it out loud.”

The atmosphere became heavy, the tension floating in the air was impossible to miss. Your cheeks flushed red at Vi’s proximity, at the words she had said and the way she had said them. You tried to maintain your composure, but the heat in your body didn’t lie.

“And what if it is?” you asked, your words bolder than you thought, as you looked her in the eyes.

Vi stopped in front of you, her hands resting on her hips, watching you with a mix of challenge and attraction. “Then,” she said, her eyes sparkling with complicity, “can I claim you as mine?” The way she said it, with that low, enveloping tone, made your heart race. The tension between the two of you was palpable, as if the distance between you disappeared with every word.

You stepped closer, enough to feel the warmth of her body, her breath almost on yours. “I don’t think you need to ask for permission,” you said, using a defiant smile, knowing the game had begun.

Vi smiled with that mischievous glint in her eyes, stepping even closer. “You’re right. I marked you as mine long before you wore this shirt.” She tugged at the hem of the shirt and pulled you closer to her. “But, do you want me to mark you now in another way?”

You felt everything inside you react to her closeness, and you knew this was about to get much more intense. Vi always had that power over you, and the way she was looking at you now proved it.

“That sounds tempting,” you murmured, your words coming out softer than you expected, but without regret.

With a satisfied smile, Vi finally took you by the waist and gently brought your lips to hers. “Then let’s not waste time, little deer,” she whispered before kissing you with an intensity as great as your desire for her.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn and you had just returned from a recent mission. It had been a long day, filled with tensions, reports, and the constant need to maintain the facade of control. But now, after leaving the worries behind, all you wanted was to relax and enjoy Caitlyn's company, who always managed to make the chaos of the day fade away, at least for a while.

In the bathroom, the steam mixed with the heat, surrounding you as you sank into the relaxation the tub brought. Caitlyn was beside you, dipping into the water to wet her hair, the situation beginning to feel more intimate than usual. Both of you had made it a habit to share a bath after work, an opportunity to shed the physical and mental tensions.

Though you had been together in moments of camaraderie, the brush of your wet bodies in the water created a new, different sensation. Caitlyn's hands sometimes slid softly over your back, seeking to relax tense muscles, and you reciprocated, letting out sighs as the closeness became more palpable. Occasionally, her fingers lingered a bit longer than necessary, touching you with a softness that made you shiver.

After finishing, Caitlyn was the first to step out of the bath, running a towel through her hair with a certain awkwardness. "I need something comfortable, do you mind if we wear pajamas?" she asked, almost without thinking, as she headed to her room. There was no need to ask, as something always felt very natural about how she behaved with you, though this time something in her demeanor caught your attention.

When you entered her room, Caitlyn had already changed, but she left the door slightly ajar while pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and comfortable pants. The sight of her bare back made you stop for a moment, watching her with a mix of admiration and restrained desire. It wasn’t the first time you had seen her in light clothing, but something about her attitude tonight felt different. As she dressed, her movements were softer, more... delicate, as if she were waiting for something. Caitlyn turned just as you walked in, giving you the chance to see her in her comfortable clothes.

"Don’t look at me like that," she said, smiling, as always, with that mix of challenge and amusement in her gaze.

"Impossible not to, sheriff," you joked, moving closer to grab your own pajamas and change, but before you could do so, Caitlyn looked at you with an intensity that made you feel uncomfortable in a pleasant way.

You stopped, confused by the intensity in her gaze. "What’s wrong, Cait?" you asked, with a soft smile, feeling how the atmosphere was becoming heavier. "You’re acting different."

Caitlyn took a step toward you, approaching with her typical leader stance, but something in her face said she wasn’t as sure of herself as usual. Her fingers played with the edge of her shirt as she looked at you. "It’s just that..." she began, clearly hesitant, "it’s just that... I like seeing you in my clothes. It’s not just that they fit you well, it’s that... it feels right."

The air between you suddenly thickened, the tension floating, as if her words had opened a door neither of you knew if you were ready to cross. Caitlyn, usually so confident, was now showing vulnerability, but with a vulnerability you had never seen in her before.

You approached her, noticing how her eyes shone a little more than usual. You took her by the shoulders, with a softness that contrasted with her strong character. "Why is it so important to you?" you asked in a low voice, feeling that this moment was different from any other you had experienced with her.

Caitlyn sighed, her fingers touching the fabric of her shirt on your skin. "It’s... hard to explain, but seeing you in my clothes makes me feel closer to you, as if we were even more... partners. It’s weird, I know."

For a moment, all you could do was look at her, your heart pounding in your chest as you processed her words. Caitlyn, so reserved, so firm always, was showing you a side of her that she only shared with you. And that made you feel more connected than ever.

You took her hand, gently stroking it and recognizing the vulnerability in her posture. "I understand," you said, smiling softly. "I like seeing you like this too. Not just in your clothes... but in everything you are. I don’t mind."

Caitlyn looked at you, a shy but genuine smile appearing on her face as her eyes softened. "I guess I’m always looking for ways to stay in control... but with you, it seems I let go of that facade," she said, almost as if speaking to herself. "I feel better when I have you close."

Then, without warning, Caitlyn hugged you, wrapping her arms around you protectively, a soft caress, almost as if seeking comfort. The hug lingered, and in that moment everything seemed to stop. The mission, the worries, the rules. It was just the moment when the two of you truly felt connected, without any barriers separating you.

Jayce

After a long, exhausting day filled with endless debates in the Council, Jayce finally arrives home. The doors open with a soft creak, and the sound of his footsteps echoes down the quiet hallway. You know he’s had a rough day, and you’ve prepared to welcome him in the best way possible. You’ve been working on dinner, almost ready for when he returns, but the most important part is how you plan to greet him.

You’re in the living room, holding a glass of wine, your body draped in Jayce’s white shirt. You know it’s much larger on you than it is on him, and you’ve done it intentionally. Traditional dresses or outfits seem unnecessary now; all you want is to see him relax, to feel good after a long day.

As he approaches, his eyes widen at the sight of you, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, the hem brushing your thighs. However, what catches his attention the most is how you’re wearing nothing underneath. The contrast between your relaxed demeanor and the tension reflected in his face is immediate.

“Welcome home,” you say with a soft smile, raising the glass of wine towards him. “I thought you could use some rest.”

Jayce takes a long breath, as if trying to maintain his composure, but it’s clear that the sight before him has thrown him off balance. His eyes briefly trail over your figure before meeting yours, where the tension is palpable.

“What… what are you doing?” he asks, clearly affected but trying to keep his tone serious, though his eyes betray him.

“I’ve prepared some dinner,” you respond with a playful smile. “Come to the kitchen with me, please. It’s almost ready.”

As you walk towards the kitchen, you can feel his gaze fixed on you. Jayce can’t help but follow you with his eyes, appreciating every detail of your form, especially the way the shirt clings to your body, leaving little to the imagination. The atmosphere in the house has changed, becoming warmer, but also more charged than anyone could have anticipated.

When you reach the kitchen, you start chopping some vegetables, focused on the task but fully aware that Jayce hasn’t stopped looking at you for even a second. The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board fills the space initially, but as time passes, you feel the tension between you both growing.

It’s as if the air thickens, and finally, he can’t resist anymore. Jayce steps forward, slowly moving behind you until you can feel his warmth against your back. His body presses against yours, his breathing now deep and almost irregular. The closeness of his body makes your heart race faster, and the brush of his chest against your back heightens the intensity of the situation… in the best way.

“You look incredible,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to admit what he’s feeling. His breath grazes your neck, and the heat of his body melds with yours, filling you with an electric sensation. “Seeing you in my shirt... I can’t handle it. It turns me on more than I’d like to admit.”

You feel your skin prickling at his words, and for a moment, the knife in your hand is suspended in the air. But you don’t let it fall, even though you’re close to losing yourself in the sensation he provokes in you.

“Oh, really?” you tease, tilting your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “What, are you jealous of your own clothes?”

Jayce chuckles softly, a sound full of tension and desire. “It’s not jealousy,” he responds with a smile that barely conceals what he’s feeling. “It’s... fascination. I didn’t know something as simple as a shirt could... affect me this way.”

You feel him move even closer, his body now pressed fully against yours, making the space between you nearly vanish. His hand, soft yet firm, rests on your hip, and the contact is so intimate you could swear the world is about to fade away in that instant.

“You look so good,” he says, his tone now deeper, filled with desire. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.” His erection clearly pressing against your backside.

Finally, after that whisper full of desire, Jayce pulls back slightly, looking down with a small smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so direct… but I couldn’t help it. You drive me crazy.”

You turn fully towards him, still smiling, as you take a step closer, closing the gap. “I don’t want apologies. I just want you.” You whisper, before cupping his face in your hands and devouring his lips.

Ekko

Ekko enters his workshop, closing the door with a tired sigh. The gears keep turning, the hum of the machines welcomes him as always. You step into the space after hearing his footsteps. Ekko didn’t expect to find an unexpected scene: you, wearing his orange bandana around your neck, his sleeveless white shirt, and a pair of his baggy pants that barely allow you to walk properly. It was like you were cosplaying him.

You throw him a playful look as you adjust the shirt, which is obviously much larger than you. You smile as you see his eyes widen slightly, observing your figure draped in his clothes.

"What? Do you like my style?" you ask with a mischievous tone, noticing the sparkle in his eyes. The Ekko you know isn't easily startled, but now, you can tell something has slightly caught him off guard.

"I wasn’t expecting this," he responds with a sly grin, crossing his arms as he watches you with a mix of interest and amusement. "So, you took over my clothes without asking? Are you planning to take my entire wardrobe too, or just this for now?"

Your laughter is soft but playful. You know you're teasing him, but you enjoy seeing how his confident attitude meets this little challenge. "Does it bother you?" you ask as you step closer, playful.

Ekko takes a step towards you, wearing that characteristic, confident smile. "Of course, it doesn’t bother me, babe," he replies in a teasing tone, moving closer. "It’s just that I feel bad saying it doesn't suit you as much as it suits me," Ekko puffed out his chest with an air of arrogance that made you roll your eyes.

"Please, Ekko, we both know you're only saying that because you feel threatened. It’s not my fault your clothes look better on me than on you. It gives me a mysterious vibe," you joke in the same tone.

Ekko lets out a laugh, one that shows he’s fully into the joke, enjoying the chemistry between you two. "Mysterious, huh? You’re right. It’s strange seeing you so... you, but with a touch of my style," he responds, still smiling.

At that moment, you look him directly in the eyes, and without thinking, you say with a mischievous smile, "I think it’s going to cost you a lot to get it back, huh? Maybe I’ll make you a deal... I’ll give it back, but in exchange for something."

Ekko's face lights up with a grin of complicity. "Hmm, I don’t know if I want to know what kind of deal you have in mind," he replies in a low voice, clearly interested. "But now that you mention it, I might be willing to negotiate."

The tension in the air becomes more palpable, the electricity between you more intense. Ekko seems relaxed, but his gaze, his posture, everything about him says he’s enjoying the situation. You can’t help it; the power play between you is present, and you both enjoy it.

You step a little closer, almost closing the space between you and Ekko, feeling his warmth and the vibrant energy that always accompanies him. "Are you really willing to negotiate?" you ask, tilting your head slightly, letting your tone become a bit softer, more seductive. "Because if you are, I have a few ideas..."

Ekko looks at you with those bright eyes, always full of life and challenge. "Oh, I see you come with plans," he replies, his voice low and deep, full of the same playful energy you both are enjoying. "Tell me, what kind of deal do you have in mind?"

You slide your hands around his neck, letting them rest on his shoulders, while you play with one of his dreadlocks. "Well, you could start by convincing me why I should give you back your clothes," you whisper, leaning in close enough that your breath brushes against his skin.

Ekko smiles, clearly enjoying this little game. "Convince you, huh?" His hand slowly travels to your waist, holding you with a confidence that has always fascinated you. "What if I propose something? Maybe we could share it."

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, pretending surprise. "Share it? Wow, that sounds pretty generous of you. But what do I get out of it?"

Ekko tilts his head to the side, studying you with that sharp gaze that always seems to see more than you let on. "You get to have something of mine, something that reminds you of me every time you wear it. And I... I get the lucky chance to see you wearing it, like now."

His words, full of sincerity but wrapped in that light, playful tone, make your heart race a little faster. You feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, his proximity, and you can’t help but smile. "Sounds like a good deal," you murmur, brushing your nose against his.

Ekko holds you closer, his smile soft but confident. "And maybe, every now and then, you’ll let me get a piece of clothing back... but only if you promise to return it like this, with your added style."

You laugh softly, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body and the soft drumming of his heart under your hand. "Sounds fair," you reply before closing the distance between you and sealing the deal with a soft but meaningful kiss.

Silco

The atmosphere in Silco's office is always charged. The dim light from the lamps illuminates the dark corners of the room as he sits behind his desk, his calculating eyes focused on the pile of papers and documents in front of him. Since taking control of Zaun, his life has been immersed in a routine of power and difficult decisions.

However, today something has changed. Today, you have sneaked into his space. He knew you were approaching, he had heard your footsteps, but it wasn't until you entered that he realized what was about to happen.

You approach him with a firm step, and without warning, you settle on his lap, making him pause in what he was doing. You’re wearing his jacket, large, with the collar up, covering you completely and hanging from your shoulders. The garment is unmistakably his, and it fits you in a way Silco couldn’t have anticipated. The jacket, which gives your figure a more mysterious and dominant air, seems to imbue you with more than just his style; it makes you part of his world.

You settle comfortably on him, smiling playfully, enjoying the control you have over the situation. Silco observes you with a slight smile on his lips, though he doesn’t take his eyes off you. At first, he says nothing, but when his eyes fix on your clothing, his tone subtly changes, filled with that authoritative air that characterizes him so well.

"You've been holed up here all day, not paying much attention," you confess in a tender whisper.

"Is that why you're wearing my jacket?" he asks, in a deep voice, as his eyes scan your figure. It’s clear he notices the game you’re starting, and a spark of interest ignites in his gaze.

"I just wanted your attention," you respond with a mischievous smile, enjoying the closeness and the way Silco watches you, as if evaluating every move.

Silco raises an eyebrow, not losing his composure. "And what makes you think wearing my clothes will get it?" His tone is challenging, but something else shines in his eyes. There’s a mix of curiosity and, perhaps, a bit of amusement, something he rarely shows.

"Maybe because it looks much better on me than on you," you reply with a light laugh, feeling how the tension in the air shifts slightly, but without losing the essence of the power you both share.

"It suits you," Silco says, without taking his eyes off you. "You are… an interesting interruption."

He leans in a little closer, his presence always so imposing. "But, you know? What you're wearing isn’t just clothing," he adds, with that deep voice that always makes you feel as if you're being drawn into him. "It's a reminder. Of who you are, and who you belong to."

The air becomes tense, not because of the threat in his tone, but because of the intention perceived in his words. Silco, in his own way, is marking territory. It’s not something obvious or rude, but a subtle gesture that speaks of his way of claiming, of having control over what is his, over you.

You move closer to him, and the distance between the two of you shortens until you can feel his breath nearer. "Who do you belong to, Silco?" you ask softly, almost as a challenge, maintaining a firm, confident gaze.

Silco doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes soften, and he looks you up and down with a mix of admiration and possessiveness. A side of him that he rarely shows.

"That’s something only you and I will know," he replies, and immediately takes a step toward you, positioning himself so close that the tension feels like a weight in the air. You can’t escape his presence, but you don’t want to either.

Finally, when the space between you is almost nonexistent, Silco places a hand on your shoulder, touching the fabric of the jacket delicately, as if this piece of clothing represents something more than just a garment.

"Take off the jacket," he orders in a whisper, with that deep voice that knows how to make every word feel significant.

Without waiting for you to do it immediately, he takes it with one hand and slides it off your shoulders gently, as if he wants to hold onto that moment a bit longer. When the jacket falls to the floor, Silco looks at it for a second, and then his eyes lock onto yours again.

"No need for more clothing between us, is there?" he murmurs, a challenging tone in his voice. "But if you insist on wearing something of mine, make sure it's what I want."

Mel

The atmosphere in Mel’s mansion is filled with sophistication and soft lights illuminating the walls adorned with high-class art. The event in Piltover, which both of you are about to attend, is one of the most anticipated of the year, and Mel, as always, is ready to stand out. Her presence is undeniable, but tonight, something feels different. The air between you is charged with an energy that rarely occurs between two such powerful individuals, but today, there is a closeness evident from the very first moment.

After hours of preparation, Mel is ready, but she notices that you still haven’t found the right dress. “Don’t worry about that,” she says with a confident smile, her tone soft yet firm. “I have something that will make you shine more than anyone else at that event.”

With an elegant gesture, Mel approaches the wardrobe where she keeps her most exclusive garments and shows you a dress that immediately takes your breath away. It’s a long black silk dress with golden details that seem to catch the light with every movement. The neckline is subtle but enough to suggest powerful elegance. The fabric falls gracefully, highlighting the figure without being vulgar, and at the back, there is a slit that reveals your legs in a sophisticated way.

Mel holds it up in front of you, and her eyes gleam with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. “This is perfect for you,” she says with confidence, knowing her choice is flawless. “I want you to feel as impressive as you truly are.”

It takes you a moment to process the idea of wearing such a stunning dress, but you can’t help but smile. You feel a hint of excitement and perhaps something more in the air.

The moment you put on the dress, something changes. Mel watches as the fabric fits your body, her gaze attentive and assessing, but also filled with something more, as if she’s seeing beyond just appearance. The dress fits perfectly, as if it had been made especially for you, and Mel can’t help but smile, proud of having made the right choice.

When you finally see yourself in the mirror, you realize what she’s seeing. You become aware that, somehow, you’ve transformed into someone else. The dress highlights your strength and elegance, but it also gives you a vulnerability you’ve never felt before.

“Perfect,” Mel says, her voice soft, but her gaze full of approval. “I knew you’d be dazzling.”

She then steps closer and places a hand on your shoulder, slightly adjusting the fabric as if ensuring everything is in place is an important task for her. When she steps back to observe you again, her eyes show a warm glow, as if she’s proud of you in a very personal way.

“Now,” she says, her tone more playful, “let’s make everyone in Piltover wonder who this woman with so much power and beauty is.”

You smile, taking her hand with renewed confidence. The tension in the air feels electric, but this time it’s different. It’s not just about attending an important event but about the closeness of how you both feel at this moment.

When you’re finally ready to leave the mansion, Mel looks at you with a small smile, but full of admiration. “Let’s conquer this event together,” she says with the confidence that always accompanies her, and you know that with her by your side, there’s nothing you can’t achieve.

Sevika

It’s a calm afternoon in Zaun, but you know you can’t relax too much. Sevika has just returned from a mission, her body covered in oil stains and dust, but it seems like just another layer over her tough, hardened skin. Although it’s unusual for her to show vulnerability, today, for some reason, she seems more human, more approachable.

She enters the room with a firm step, but something seems to have left her tired. She’s looking at you without saying anything, though you know that silence rarely means there’s nothing more beneath the surface with Sevika.

You decide to take advantage of being in her space, knowing there’s no work to be done tonight. As you approach her, a strange calm takes over you. Without much thought, you head toward her wardrobe, opening the doors in hopes of finding something comfortable to wear. You know she’s not one to be easily unsettled by your jokes or your presence in her space.

In a moment of her inattention, you find a large leather jacket, rugged in design, clearly meant for someone more imposing than you. “I think this will fit me,” you murmur to yourself as you put it on without much thought.

When Sevika sees you, her eyes trail over your figure with a gaze full of attention. She doesn’t say anything immediately, but silence fills the air. However, her posture changes, and Sevika’s typical confidence unfolds with force. She crosses her arms and watches you, as if evaluating a new threat.

“Did you take my jacket?” she finally asks, her voice firm but with a small spark of amusement.

“What? Don’t you like how it looks on me?” you tease, challenging her to say something.

Sevika approaches you, unhurried but imposing. Her eyes never stop observing you, almost with curiosity. When she’s close, she extends a hand and, with a finger, touches the part of the jacket on your shoulder, examining it closely.

“Not bad,” she responds in a deep tone, but her gaze reflects something more.

You feel a bit provocative sensing her tone, deciding to play a bit more. “Do you like seeing me in something of yours?” you ask, smiling as you step closer to her.

The tension between the two of you rises. Sevika isn’t one to lose control, but you know that sometimes you like to challenge her. The brush of her finger on the jacket, her eyes fixed on you, and that way she has of dominating the situation make you feel the heat building in the air.

“Maybe you like being in my territory,” Sevika replies, her voice softer than you expected but still loaded with authority. The way she moves closer makes it feel like she’s already marking her space but leaves room for the game.

Suddenly, as if it had all been planned, Sevika steps toward you, her face close to yours, her lips almost touching your ear as she whispers, “Just make sure that jacket isn’t the only thing you take from me.”

Her tone is low, full of unspoken promises. The brush of her body against yours is inevitable, and at that moment, everything you’ve been waiting for seems to collapse in the air. Sevika isn’t the typical woman who gives herself easily, but she does enjoy playing with limits.

You stand there, wearing Sevika’s jacket on your shoulders, feeling her evaluating you, challenging you, and provoking you all at the same time.

You know Sevika isn’t someone who likes losing control, but you have a special place in her life, a place where trust mixes with that spark of madness that makes everything much more interesting.

“And what else would you like me to take from you?” you ask, keeping the challenge in your words, a playful smile appearing on your lips.

She stares at you intently, and the intensity of her gaze lets you know that, even though her attitude is one of control, she’s well aware of what’s happening between the two of you. The tension is at its peak, but Sevika simply smiles, that confident smile only she knows how to give.

“That, you’ll find out soon,” she replies in a softer tone than you imagined.

[lqveharrington]

In Sickness & Health | R.L.

summary: you and remus after a full moon <3

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, comfort, normal post full moon things

a/n: i’m in love with him :(

“Hey, Moony,” you murmured, settling onto the edge of his hospital wing bed. Your fingers gently threaded through his hair, careful not to press against any fresh bruises or reopen wounds. His hair was soft despite the sweat from the full moon’s toll. “How was tonight? Sirius told me it was… bad.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Remus replied, though his voice was strained, and the attempt at nonchalance didn’t quite mask the pain lacing his words. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the stiff white sheets, but winced as he moved. “Jus’ got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

You frowned, your gaze lingering on the fresh scar just above his eyebrow. Without thinking, you brushed a few strands of hair away and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of the wound. His skin was warm beneath your lips, radiating both the fever of healing and the exhaustion of survival. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not your fault, dovey,” he murmured back, eyes still closed, breathing shallow.

“But it is,” you sighed, your voice cracking under the weight of guilt. Your fingers found his hand, lacing through his as your thumb sought out the steady beat of his pulse—a quiet reassurance that he was still here. Still breathing. “I shouldn’t have gone with Lily and Dorcas earlier. I should’ve been there when—”

“Stop,” Remus cut in gently, squeezing your hand to pull you out of the spiral. His amber eyes opened, hazy but sincere, locking onto yours. “You know it’s not your fault. These things… they happen. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life, yeah? Tonight was just a rough night, nothing you could’ve prevented.”

But you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest. Couldn’t stop the image of him curled on the hospital bed, covered in fresh scars that would never fully fade. You bit your bottom lip, emotions swirling, and brought his hand to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against his knuckles. “I’m still sorry.”

He chuckled, though it came out more like a breathy exhale. “I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to kick you out if you don’t stop with all this guilt,” he teased, squeezing your hand again. His eyes softened. “Besides… you’ll be here to help me afterwards, yeah?”

“Of course, Rem,” you nodded, voice thick with emotion.

He smiled—small, tired, but genuine—and tilted his head just enough to look at you properly. His gaze narrowed playfully until you finally cracked a smile, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, the weight of worry momentarily lifted by his warmth. Remus shifted again, letting out a slow sigh as he tried to settle his battered body. You reached up to run your fingers through his tousled hair once more, the rhythmic motion calming both of you.

“Think you’ll be able to attend classes by Monday?” you asked softly. “We’ve got those tests in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

He hummed thoughtfully, leaning into your touch like a cat basking in the sun. “We’ll see… Might just have to fake my way through them. Not like Flitwick hasn’t seen me half-asleep in class before.”

You glanced at the old clock hanging above Madam Pomfrey’s office door and sighed. “You should rest,” you murmured, though the last thing you wanted was to leave him.

“Dovey,” he mumbled, voice low, “you need to get to bed, too.”

You nodded reluctantly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm, his pulse steady beneath your fingertips. “Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow? A change of clothes, books… chocolate?”

“Just yourself,” he grinned, eyes fluttering shut. “The boys already made grand plans to raid my side of the dorm for me.”

“Figures.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. Squeezing his hand one last time, you whispered, “Goodnight, Rem.”

“Night, love.”

As you slipped out of the hospital wing, the cool corridors of Hogwarts seemed colder than usual, the stone walls echoing with your thoughts. You kept replaying the night in your head—the ache in his voice, the scars on his skin—and you hoped, with everything in you, that he wasn’t downplaying the pain.

Remus spent most of the weekend recovering, pushing through the stiffness and soreness until, by Sunday afternoon, he managed to hobble out of bed with his cane, taking slow, measured steps. You stayed by his side every moment you could, abandoning weekend plans with the girls without a second thought. James and Sirius, of course, had already tried to rope him into plotting pranks, but Remus waved them off with a lazy grin. Next time, he promised. For now, he just wanted quiet.

The two of you ended up by the Black Lake, settling beneath the sprawling branches of a tree that overlooked the shimmering water. The late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon, casting streaks of gold and pink across the sky. Remus lay back with his head in your lap, eyes closed, his breathing even as you idly ran your fingers through his hair.

“Did your dad make this?” you asked softly, tracing the intricate carvings on his wooden cane. The designs were delicate, swirling patterns framing his initials at the top—R.J.L.—surrounded by tiny etched stars.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, opening his eyes halfway. “He started working on it after… after he realized how much I was struggling to walk after full moons. Didn’t say much—just handed it to me one morning.”

Your fingertips brushed over the stars, heart tugging at the thought of the quiet, steadfast love behind each carved detail. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “And it suits you.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against your leg. “I’ll owl him that. He’ll be pleased someone appreciates his handiwork.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake and the distant calls of students on the castle grounds. Remus turned his head slightly, letting the fading sunlight warm his face. For a moment, you saw beyond the scars and fatigue—to the boy who loved books, who smiled despite the weight he carried, who found peace in the little things.

“Help me up?” he asked after a while.

“Of course.” You shifted, careful as you helped him sit up. His muscles tensed under your hands, but he didn’t complain. Steadying him, you passed him his cane. He gripped it firmly, testing his balance.

“Thanks, dovey,” he murmured, his gaze catching yours. There was gratitude in his eyes—deep, unspoken, and profound.

You smiled, falling into step beside him as you wandered back toward the castle, the horizon painted with the colors of the setting sun. Whatever challenges lay ahead—tests, pranks, full moons—you’d face them together. Always.

The following week passed in a blur of classes, missed notes, and whispered conversations between you and Remus when Madam Pomfrey wasn’t hovering over him. By Tuesday morning, he was finally released from the hospital wing—still sore, still leaning on his cane, but stubbornly insistent on returning to classes despite your protests.

“Professor McGonagall’s going to have my head if I miss another Transfiguration lecture,” he grumbled as you walked beside him, his pace slow but determined. “Besides, I’ve already got Sirius taking notes for me. Not that I can read half of his scribbles.”

You snorted. “You’d have better luck asking a Hippogriff to write in cursive.”

Remus chuckled, the sound warming your chest. Even with dark circles still under his eyes and his movements careful, it was good to see him returning to his usual self—sarcastic comments, fond exasperation at his friends, and all.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was exhausted. You could see it in the way he slumped against the library table, one hand lazily turning the pages of Advanced Defensive Spells, the other propping up his head.

“Rem,” you whispered, nudging his leg under the table. “You’re not going to absorb any of that if you’re half-asleep.”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, though his eyelids drooped.

“You’re reading the index,” you pointed out.

He blinked down at the book. “…Shit.”

Smiling fondly, you reached over and closed it for him. “Come on. Fresh air might wake you up.”

Reluctantly, he let you tug him away from the library and out toward the Black Lake. The March wind was crisp, biting at your cheeks, but the sky was clear—a perfect gradient of pale blue bleeding into amber as the sun started its slow descent. You walked in comfortable silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours.

“Here,” you said, guiding him to a familiar spot near the small cliff overlooking the water—the same place you’d been the weekend before. The grass was still damp, but neither of you cared. Remus sat with a quiet sigh, stretching out his legs as you settled beside him.

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he murmured after a long pause, voice soft and a little too serious.

You turned your head toward him. “Where’s that coming from?”

He shrugged, gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake. “I know how hard this is for you. Worrying. Waiting around for me to pull myself back together after every full moon. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” you replied, nudging his shoulder. “And you don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Stubborn.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” you shot back, and he laughed—really laughed—head tilting back, eyes crinkling. It was a sound you wished you could bottle up and keep forever.

Falling into a companionable quiet again, you watched as the sun dipped lower, casting golden ripples across the lake. Seagulls cried overhead, distant and fleeting.

“You know,” you started, tracing random patterns in the grass, “I don’t stay because I have to. I stay because I want to, Remus. You… you matter to me. Scars and all.”

He went still beside you, the weight of your words settling between you like a warm blanket. Slowly, cautiously, his hand found yours in the grass. Fingers entwined, familiar and safe.

“I’m lucky to have you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, though your cheeks burned.

The sky bled into a soft lavender as the first stars began to peek through. Remus leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder. “This… this helps,” he murmured. “Being with you. Makes it easier to breathe.”

You smiled, resting your head against his. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The wind picked up, sending ripples across the lake and rustling the trees behind you, but neither of you moved. For now, the world could wait.

Here, in this quiet pocket of Hogwarts grounds, with his hand in yours and the stars beginning to glow above, everything felt… right.

And you’d hold onto that feeling—for him, for you, for as long as it took.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[kkai-zen]

18+ nsfw, MDNI.

It’s so late. 

You yawn for the millionth time, checking your phone with a frown. Dick hasn’t texted you back since he left for patrol.

Crime in Blüdhaven had spiked sharply over the past few weeks, and of course your boyfriend was the one taking care of it. He’d been out late for the past several nights, always coming home more exhausted and battered than the last. 

Dick had been gone strangely long tonight, though. It was almost 3 AM, and you bit the inside of your cheek with worry.

Should I text him? Or call Alfred? Or Bruce, maybe?

But before your thoughts run rampant with worry, you hear the click! of your apartment door opening. 

Leaping to your feet, you see Dick’s shadowed figure hunched over in the doorway, barely visible against the darkness behind him. You’re at the door in an instant, anxious eyes scanning over his body for injuries.

“Are you feeling okay? Any injuries?” Looping his arm around your shoulders, you nudge the door shut as you guide him inside. 

His body is oddly feverish, chest heaving, and you see beads of sweat sliding down the exposed skin of his jaw and neck as he pulls his mask off.

“Yeah, m’ fine,” Dick grunts out, crashing onto the couch. You frown, kneeling down next to him. “Uh-huh. Dick, you’re burning up. Did you catch a fever?” 

You reach out to touch his forehead, but he grabs your wrist with a surprising amount of force. “Don’t,” he hisses. His eyes are squeezed shut, and when he opens them a moment later, you’re startled at how dark they look. “Dick? Are you-”

He jolts up, panting even more now, and his body is tense. “Stop- saying my name,” Dick groans, and the pieces click together in your head. 

“Dick, did you take an aphrodisiac?” 

He squints at you.

“Well, no- but, I, uh…had a run-in with Poison Ivy,” he murmurs through gritted teeth.

You gape at him, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, before a laugh bursts from your lips. 

Dick flushes a little more red, and gives you a half-hearted glare. “It’s not funny,” he huffs.

“I know, babe, it’s just…I never expected to see you in this state.” You give him a little nudge, grin still spread across your face. “You’re always so, y’know, in control of the situa- mmphf!”

His lips are on yours before you can comprehend that he’s moved. But what catches you more off guard is how aggressive he’s being. 

Dick is what you would call a golden retriever boyfriend. Goofy, light-hearted, witty—he still keeps all those traits in the bedroom with his effortless humor.

But right now, he feels like someone completely different. 

His hands are gripping your waist a little too tight when he pulls you on top of him, tongue forceful as his teeth clash against yours. “D-Dick, wait, I- ugh!” 

Before you can finish your sentence, he shoves two fingers into your mouth, ripping off your thin pajama shorts and panties in one swift move with his other hand.

“Missed you so much, babe,” he groans. “And fuck, you look so pretty like this. Might make you walk around the apartment with nothing on, just so I can admire you.” 

You shudder at his words, heat coiling in your lower belly.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth only to slide them down to your hole, already aching and dripping with need.

“What a slut,” Dick chuckles with a slight smirk. “Didn’t realize you liked it so rough, babe.” 

“Dick! S-stop it,” you flush crimson, embarrassment flooding your senses as you give him a light slap on the shoulder. “It’s just the aphrodisiac, you’re not usually so-”

“So what? Rough? Dirty?” 

He grinds up against you, his hardness pressing against your crotch. “I’ve always had these thoughts,” he murmurs, pushing a finger into your fluttering cunt. “Besides, you like this, don’t you?” Dick laughs before pressing wet, sloppy kisses into the side of your neck. 

“I…” you’re about to protest, but the feeling of Dick’s fingers and mouth and body underneath you has you reeling, grinding down into his hand. “Yeah, atta girl,” he teases, giving your ass a slap that pulls a moan from your throat. 

He nearly coaxes an orgasm out of you when he slips another finger into your soaked hole, whispering filth into your ear.

“Look at you, moaning like a whore for me,” Dick breathes. “So pretty, just for me.”

You mewl out his name, pussy clenching at his words. “Ah- ah, Dick, please,” you whimper. “I-ugh!”

Throbbing and twitching with need, you feel his fingers slide out of your cunt, and you whine. “Stop being so impatient,” Dick hisses. “Thought I was the one with an aphrodisiac in my system.”

“Well it’s your fault for being so hot,” you whine. Dick huffs out a laugh, his angry red tip pressing against your dripping cunt before he pushes his length into you, bottoming out in one swift thrust. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” Dick swears, teeth gritted. “Forgot how fuckin’ good you feel, so- ugh- warm n’ wet-” 

He grabs your ass, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips, as he slams you down his length. His pace has your head spinning with lust, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you sobbing out his name. “Dick, ohh, fuck, it feels so- good-!” Tears slide down your cheeks as his tip slams into your g-spot over and over again. 

“C’mon babe, I don’t see you laughing now,” he pants, smug smirk full on his face now. “Too cockdrunk to think straight?” 

“Hnngh, please Dick I- ah!” 

The lewd plap-plap-plap! of his hips against your spread thighs has your eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out as your boyfriend drills into faster, desperation chasing him to his climax.

“W-with me, baby, cum with me,” Dick groans out, biting down on his lower lip. “Cream on my cock like a good girl, c’mon-” 

And with a cry, your orgasm crashes over you, turning your vision white. “Fuck!” 

By the time Dick pulls out of you, his seed has already spilled down your thighs, dripping onto his cock underneath you. You collapse forward into his broad chest, face pressing into his neck as you come down from your high. 

“You really do like it rough, huh?” Dick laughs, hand coming up to lay on the back of your head.

“Shut up, Dick,” you huff in response. “Me? Shut up? Never,” he responds, and you can hear the grin in his voice. 

You nuzzle into his neck further, but pause when you feel his hand slip under your shirt, a finger teasingly circling one of your nipples. “Dick, what are you-” you start, but he cuts you off with a deep kiss. 

“C’mon babe, did you really think I’d only go for one round?” He’s got that devilish sparkle in his eye, and you realize his pupils are still dilated.

“That aphrodisiac’s still in my system,” he hums, and you feel his cock twitch underneath your trembling thighs. Dick smirks. 

“Mind helping me out?” 

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

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