#i didn't even realize at the time but now i do

[you-know-honey]

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

←←←1/2

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

“Home sweet home…” you hum as Viktor opens the door, letting you in first like a true gentleman. You’re the first to leave your coat on the coat rack and throw your shoes somewhere in the room, walking now much more comfortably towards the kitchen.

Viktor’s home isn’t very big, but it had changed a lot since the first time you went there. Before, everything looked like a scene from the most godforsaken place, with almost no furniture and white morgue lighting. It was hard to convince him that to improve his health he also need to improve his environment. The living room was the largest room, with a functional fireplace, a second-hand coffee table and a sofa so soft it could be a piece stolen from heaven. The kitchen was the smallest, there was no table or chairs, instead there was a breakfast bar and some swivel chairs that you had taken from the academy and that Viktor had fixed. The bathroom started the hallway, followed by his office and finally his room. You had made sure that every room reflected something positive, watering plants or doing crafts like a comfort fairy. Viktor appreciated it, he had told you so many times, he didn't mind that you filled his house with your not so practical decorations, they were your personal brand and he liked it, besides spending all that time decorating, painting and remodeling gave him more reasons to love you, to get to know you perfectly and be fascinated by what he found in your being. Without you he wouldn't have managed to make his house feel and look like a real home in which to rest.

Viktor removes his jacket with precise movements. His long, deft fingers slide the dark fabric over his shoulders, revealing the impeccable shirt that sits tight against his slim figure. He folds the jacket carefully, as if he's in no hurry, and lays it over the back of the sofa. His hands move up to the knot of his tie. His fingers, always so precise, pull at the knot with ease, undoing the pressure around his neck. The gesture, so mundane to him, has a strange effect on you, an electric current running through your body. As if that weren't enough, the top button of his shirt unbuttons under his touch, revealing just a flash of skin on his pale neck. His breathing seems to relax instantly, as if the small adjustment brings him some comfort.

Viktor exhales softly, running a hand through his messy hair, unaware that this distracted gesture, combined with the shadow of exhaustion on his face, makes him look almost unattainable, like a work of art that doesn’t realize its own beauty. You feel trapped in a magnetic web that he doesn’t even know he possesses.

“That was sexy,” you mutter to yourself as you rummage through some food in the fridge.

“Excuse me?” His low voice echoes behind you, you have no idea how he moved so fast, his tone is incredulous, and his eyebrows arch slightly.

You shrug, trying to look casual as you turn to look at him, even though you know your face is probably burning. “What I said. You’re sexy. Especially when you do that without realizing it.”

His brain shuts down for a moment, processing the bold comment. “Don’t joke with me…” he finally says, leaning his cane against the fridge and trapping you in a bear hug, your hands quickly returning his, feeling the medical corset under his shirt.

“I’m not joking,” you insist, your words crashing against his bare torso, causing him to shiver slightly, which only makes his arms draw you closer to his body. “Is it so hard to believe?” you can hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Stop it…” he replies with his lips on your head.

“Too shy to receive compliments?” in his defense you are being a little more daring than usual.

His arms pull you closer to his body as if that were possible, it is clear that he wants you to stop talking, he laughs when he feels you squirm in his arms as if you are complaining.

“Y/N…” he tells you with that tone that you know is a warning, although it is not serious, you know he is having fun.

You sigh and he loosens his hug a little, enough so that you can rest your chin on his chest.

“Shall we make dinner together?” you ask, Viktor leaned in slightly, his eyes half-lidded in a warm gesture, and brushed the tip of his nose against Y/N’s in a gentle movement, barely a whisper of contact. It was an intimate exchange, full of affection and closeness, that spoke louder than any words. It was as if they shared a secret, a moment just for them, full of warmth and sweetness.

“Sure.”

Making dinner together is a very big word for what really happens in that kitchen, you prepare everything and force him to sit behind the breakfast bar to prove that everything is on point once you start the dinner. Viktor is not afraid to admit that he does not know how to cook anything other than toast and sandwiches. The kitchen is his war zone and the oven is the enemy he has yet to overcome, luckily he has you and by the time the timer in the shape of a pigeon reaches zero his stomach growls with eagerness.

“Taran!” you proudly take the lasagna out of the oven, the warm aroma fills the whole house and both of your stomachs growl desperate for food. “How is it?” you look at him expectantly.

Viktor runs his face over the steaming mold, it looks good and smells good “It’s perfect…” although he could perfectly refer to you instead of the lasagna.

“Go to the sofa, I’ll bring the dishes in a second.” still with your gloves on you push yourself over the breakfast bar to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Cooking always puts you in a good mood, but seeing that he likes what you cook is a reward on another level.

As you serve the plates and accompany it with something to drink, you watch Viktor’s silhouette walk towards the sofa, he limps a little but that gives him a certain charm because he no longer does it in pain, the way he sits, the way he sighs as he leans his back against the back of the sofa, the way he tilts his head to look at the fire. Everything about him seems like a work of art to you, from the veins that run through his pale, thin hands, his moles that you’re sure must be a constellation in the sky, his eyes that remind you of fresh honey in a virgin forest, his laugh, secret but beautiful like the whistling of rivers in the distance. You love him like you have no idea. Thinking about him revives your spirit, releases unbridled currents of adrenaline that die for him, to reach him, to be in his arms and stay there forever.

“Enjoy” he says when he leaves the dinner on the coffee table, letting you fall on the sofa. Using a blanket to cover you both from the cold.

“Enjoy” he answers, using his arm to pull your figure closer to him and rests his head on yours.

You both eat in silence, not because you have nothing to talk about, just that your stomachs really need that lasagna, you are focused on Viktor’s plate, but this time it doesn’t seem like your tactics are needed to get him to finish eating, he really razes the plate with emotion, something that makes you feel proud. With a full stomach it’s easier to think of something to talk about.

“How about a plant?” You ask, resting your head on his chest, there’s something about his heartbeat that works better to relax you than the ocean sound records on the record players next to the window.

“A plant? Where?” he asks with a playful tone “There are already many at home.” he mentioned, pointing with his gaze to the shelf above the fireplace, full of cacti of different sizes.

“For the lab…something small with green leaves maybe with flowers...” He can hear the small tone of excitement in your voice.

Viktor looked at you curiously. “What do you want it for?”

“For you. The doctors say plants help reduce stress.”

He smiled, a wonderful expression on his face. “Do you think a plant can handle that place?”

“I have faith in it. Just like in you.”

He takes a few seconds to look at you, there is tenderness in his gaze. He is not good with plants, in fact he agreed to have cacti only because they were easy to take care of since basically nothing happened if he forgot about it for a few days, a plant like the one you wanted requires more care but… he is not willing to say no to you, if you want it that way that will be and he will take care of that plant better than anyone else.

“A plant it is then.” He sighs. His figure moves beside you, before you know it he’s picking up the plates.

“Leave the plates, I’ll wash them,” you say, quickly getting up from the couch as Viktor begins to stack the cups and plates on the coffee table.

“No need. I’ll do it,” he replies calmly, already focused on the task. His hands move with the same precision he uses in the lab, carefully stacking each plate to keep them from falling.

“Viktor, I’m your guest. You can’t wash the dishes,” you insist, stepping forward to take the plates from his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression reflecting a mix of amusement and stubbornness. “Guest? You’ve been here so many times that I could claim my bedroom. There’s no point in arguing this.” You reach for the last plate, but Viktor pushes it away with a swift movement. “It’s just a small task. It’s nothing complicated.”

“But—”

“There are no ‘buts’.” He gives you a look, serious but not harsh. It’s more like a silent declaration of victory. “I’ll take care of it.”

Resigned, you sigh and cross your arms, watching him from the couch as he stacks the plates like a jenga and heads toward the kitchen. However, as he stands up with the stack of plates in his hands, he suddenly stops halfway.

For a moment, you don’t understand what’s going on. His back is slightly bent, his posture rigid. Then, he turns his face slightly toward you, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer with concern.

“A small… inconvenience,” he says in a tone that tries to sound calm, although you notice the stiffness in his voice.

You move closer and see the reason: one of the glasses is dangerously tilted, about to fall. His hands are too busy holding the others and holding onto the cane; moving just a millimeter could lead to disaster.

“Let me help you,” you offer with a smile you can’t help.

“No. It’s under control,” Viktor insists, although his tone lacks the firmness it had before.

“Sure? Because you look like you’re a second away from creating an experiment on the fragility of ceramics.”

His lips curve into a slight smile, but his attention remains fixed on the plates. With a quick but gentle movement, you slide your hands over to catch the wayward glass before it falls.

Viktor shoots you a look, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and resignation. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you admit that you need help from time to time?”

He sighs, shaking his head as he continues on his way to the kitchen. “No. But I’ll let you believe it, this time.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“How about I wash them and you dry them?” he offers.

“Fine.”

You watch him sitting at the breakfast bar watching him thoroughly wash each plate, glass, and cutlery, drying his hands on a kitchen towel.

“All yours,” he says as he leaves the kitchen, which is too small for the two of them. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Do you want some company?” His figure tenses up like a cat, stopping only to turn around slightly to find a mischievous smile on your face.

“Nice try.” A stifled laugh escapes his lips before he disappears down the hall and it’s not long before you hear the sound of running water.

The dim light of the bathroom bathed the tense lines of Viktor's figure, reflecting his thinness and the sharp features that marked his skin. Viktor took off his shirt with slow, almost mechanical movements. He had always avoided looking at his nakedness in the mirror, the reflection of a weak man made him sick, but this time the mirror gave him a different image. When he took off his shirt he discovered that on his torso his ribs were barely noticeable, his abdomen was no longer sunken and even a tiny roll of fat had formed in the lower part. He was still thin, but when he touched him he felt muscles and not just his bones, his pale skin had taken on more softness and color. The wounds left by his corset had stopped being reddened furrows and were now barely noticeable.

He caressed his neck, slightly hunched, free of tension. The scars on his side, reminders of medical procedures, were no longer like cracks, but just soft marks.

As he unbuttoned his pants, he braced himself with one hand on the wall for balance. His outer brace trembled slightly. With a methodical movement, he removed the metal piece, carefully setting it aside, as if it were an extension of himself that he could not despise.

He felt like a different person, naked in front of the mirror, admiring a more vivid reflection of himself, his hands running over his muscles that were once tired and sore, now looking strong and energetic. He smiled a little, hesitantly. For the first time, he liked what he saw in the mirror and he knew who he had to thank for that.

Steam began to fill the room as he adjusted the water to hot for the comfort of his leg. Once naked, Viktor stood still for a moment, letting the moisture envelop his skin. His body, although marked by a certain fragility, radiated an unbreakable strength, feeling each scar with something other than disgust for the first time in a long time. His eyes closed, enjoying that shower like no other.

After finishing putting away the dishes, you peeked into the hallway. You found him sitting on the bed, wearing baggy pajama pants and his shirt covering his naked torso, his head in his hands and his eyes fixed on his leg. His posture was rigid, filled with a tension that you could almost feel in the air.

You didn't say anything at first, because you knew that what he needed wasn't words, but company. You approached silently, crossing the hallway and sat down next to him, placing a hand on his good knee.

"Does it hurt?" you finally asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Viktor nodded, not raising his head. "A little. There are times when... it feels like it's never going to go away." He internally cursed himself, the whole day had passed without problems, with barely any discomfort, he didn't understand why the pain decided to attack him right now, it was as if it was mocking him.

Your chest tightened at his vulnerability. You knew how much he hated showing weakness, even with you.

"Let me help…"

He stared at you for a moment, as if considering your words. He finally nodded with a sigh. You knelt in front of him, placing his leg over your lap, pushing his pajama bottoms up to his thigh, your cold fingers giving him goosebumps where you touched them. The internal mechanism of the device on his leg was simpler but no less aggressive, as you removed the straps you could hear small gasps coming from Viktor’s mouth, his hand crumpling the sheets beside him, his skin reddening as the pressure of the device disappeared. Once the device was off you followed the usual nightly ritual, sliding your hands up his leg, applying pressure to the right spot and massaging the tense muscles in his leg and foot, you were precise, almost surgical, as you moved your hands up his leg with extreme gentleness. At first his muscles were tense but slowly you felt them relax under your touch. Finally, the tense grimace changed to a placid, lazy expression of relief as the pain faded.

"Better…" he murmured after a while. His voice sounded calmer.

“See? I’m good at this.” you said as you stood up to sit beside him on his bed.

He laughed softly, his low, warm laugh filling the space. “Maybe I should hire you as my personal physical therapist.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough.” you teased, giving him a soft poke on his nose. “But lucky for you, I do this because I care about you.” Your hands slid down his back, taking the shirt with you, exposing his medical corset. It took you a little more technique to remove it, a couple of twists here and the movement of the levers on his shoulder blades were enough to make the heavy structure give way, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor under the nightstand. Your hands caressed his bare back, his skin pale as sweet milk and warm as the first rays of the sun in the day.

He took your hand then, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your fingers and murmur against them, “How lucky I am…”

“You have no idea…” you said, sliding your hand up his arm to his cheek. He looked totally sleepy but willing to simply adjust his posture and have your lips meet his in a slow, delicate brush, more sensation than intention. His messy hair falling over his forehead, tickling the bridge of your nose.

Without saying anything, his fingers slowly slide up your cheek, warm and a little clumsy, as if even in his sleepy state he wanted to make sure he touched you carefully. His thumb traces a small circle against your skin, and his lips, barely curved in a lazy smile, murmur your name, so low it almost seems like a sigh.

You lean into him, unable to resist the closeness he himself seeks. Viktor, so practical and rational during the day, now seems completely given over to the moment. The whole world had been reduced to that single point of contact.

There is no rush in the kiss, only a sweetness heavy with tiredness, as if sleep were pulling at him but he couldn’t help but stay with you a little longer. His lips are warm, soft, and his breathing, calm but irregular, mixes with yours.

When the kiss breaks you don’t know how, but you’ve ended up lying on the bed, his lips barely separating from yours, staying so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His eyes half-closed, they look at you with a softness that melts any thought.

“I have a gift for you…” his voice is barely a whisper against your lips “Can you bring my bag please?” he asked, dragging one of your locks of hair behind your ear. You close your eyes, you're so comfortable that you don't want to separate from him. "Honey... please..." his words completely disarm you, the air leaves your lungs and you have to drag him back inside, it's the first time he calls you that...

You didn't expect it, you don't know what to do or say next. "I... amhmm... I... will go get your bag..." you murmur unsurely as you basically flee the room with your heart racing. You may have heard Viktor's giggle behind you but maybe it was just your nerves playing a bad joke on you.

When you returned with the bag to the room Viktor has lifted his torso from the bed and holds a small package wrapped excellently in ornate paper in his hands. You crawl to his side on the bed, cautiously dragging his bag, was sending you for it, a trick?

The air in the room is charged with a quiet expectation as Viktor leans forward slightly, holding a box wrapped in dark, elegant paper. His fingers, always careful, seem a little tenser than usual, as if the act of handing you the gift is more intimidating than he imagined.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice low but firm, though you notice the slight tremor in his words. He hands it to you, but doesn’t look directly at you; his eyes fixate on some indefinite spot, as if he’s not entirely sure how you’ll react.

You take the box, feeling the unexpected weight in your hands. You watch him, searching for some clue in his expression, but Viktor just crosses his arms, adopting a posture that could be interpreted as casual, though his slightly stiff shoulders give it away.

“Open it,” he murmurs, and his eyes finally meet yours, shining with a mix of nervousness and something deeper, something you can only describe as affection.

As you open the paper, you discover a retro-designed camera, impeccable, with a simple elegance that suits him perfectly. You blink, surprised, as he leans over to turn it on. Before you can ask, his hand rummages through his bag, showing you the small Hextech gem and to your utter astonishment he places it inside the camera mechanism. The room lights up for a moment before Viktor presses a button and the magic begins.

At first, music is the first thing you can hear, then like real magic you see a series of hologram images all around the room: you and him together at different moments, some captured in secret, others you remember clearly. Laughter, glances, small everyday gestures. Then, the photos change to your favorite things: books, landscapes, objects you love, letters you’ve never read written in his own handwriting, every detail carefully collected.

And then, his voice.

“My name is Viktor and…” he begins, his tone deep but soft, with that meticulous cadence that characterizes him. “This is for my dear Y/N. A record of shared moments, of laughter, of everything you represent to me, of everything she is and everything she have allowed me to be.”

Your eyes glaze over as the images continue: your first photo together, a romantic poem, even the portrait of you both that an artist had made on your first date after leaving the hospital, your favorite flowers, things only someone in love would choose.

“It’s an archive of memories,” his voice continues, “but also a reminder to me. That no matter how chaotic the world is, there’s always beauty in the small moments. And in all of these moments, there’s her.”

When the voice ends, the silence that remains is overwhelming, laden with emotions you can’t put into words. You look up at Viktor, who now seems unable to meet your gaze, his cheeks totally red.

“I wasn’t sure if it would be too much.." he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I thought… maybe you’d like it. You’ve done so much for me…”

You lean into him, setting the camera aside, and wrap your hands around his neck. “Too much?” Viktor, this is perfect...”

His lips curve into a small but genuine smile, and even though he tries to hide it, you can see the relief and joy in his eyes. This gesture, so meticulous and full of love, is irrefutable proof of how much you mean to him.

The weight of what you just saw is still present in your chest, warm and overwhelming. The camera is off to the side, forgotten for the moment, because now all your attention is on him. Viktor is still in front of you, clearly nervous but trying to keep his composure, as if you don’t know how to handle your emotions at this moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, with that analytical look that never seems to completely fade. But there’s something else in his eyes now: a mix of vulnerability and hope, as if he’s not sure if his gift had had the impact he expected.

You don’t need words to answer him.

You move toward him in one motion, your hands gripping the sides of his face before he can react. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, and for an instant, you can feel his breathing hitch, caught between wonder and anticipation.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, and before he can process it, you kiss him.

The kiss is urgent, charged with everything you feel and everything you can’t put into words. It’s like you want to tear down any remaining doubts he might have about how much you love him. Your lips move with a desperate hunger, as if you’re seeking to etch into him every emotion he’s provoked in you.

It takes Viktor a second to react, but when he does, he kisses you back with equal intensity. His hands, ever careful, grip your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he needs to have you closer. There’s no longer any shyness in his movements, only the restrained passion of someone who’s been waiting for this moment without realizing it.

His breathing is fast, ragged, and you can feel his lips tremble slightly against yours, not out of insecurity, but from the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. One of his arms wraps around you, while his other hand moves up to tangle in your hair, holding you with a firmness you’ve never felt from him before.

When you finally part, you’re both breathless. His eyes, normally calm and focused, now shine with a mix of wonder and devotion. His lips are red, and a smile, small but sincere, forms on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, his voice huskier than usual.

“Did it bother you?” you ask, still panting, your hands still on his face.

“Disturb me?..” Viktor lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, his forehead touching yours. “I couldn’t. But… I might need another demonstration to be completely sure.”

His playful tone, combined with the way he looks at you, makes your heart race again. “Cheeky…” Without saying a word, your eyes drift to the camera still resting to the side. You take the camara with firm but hurried hands, turning it on as he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, tilting his head.

“I want this saved too,” you reply with a mischievous smile, holding the camera in the air, above the both of you.

Before Viktor can react or say anything else, you lean towards him again on the bed, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with all the love you feel. This time, the kiss is more confident, more determined, as if you both know exactly what you mean to each other.

With the camera in one hand, you press the button, the click barely perceptible between the racing beat of your heart and the soft whisper of his breath against your lips.

When the kiss ends, you both stand there, foreheads together, sharing a soft laugh, as if the simple act of capturing that moment makes it even more special.

The photo joins the rest floating around the room, and you see the image: the two of you locked in a kiss, your hand holding the camera, his hair a little messy, and his face slightly tilted toward you, as if his entire world is contained in that instant.

“Perfect,” you say quietly, stroking your thumb along the edge of the camera before turning back to him.

Viktor looks at the photo, and though he doesn’t say anything, the soft smile on his face says it all. You grab the camera and add the image to the video, where that photo now sits as part of the collection. One more memory that encapsulates not only who you are, but what you mean to each other.

He looks at you once more, his golden eyes shining with something you could swear is pride. “I think this is my favorite memory so far,” he murmurs, taking your hand delicately, as if afraid the moment might fade away.

And in that instant, you know that no matter how much time passes, that photo—and this kiss—will always be unforgettable.

N/A: I'm sorry for the delay, my dog died and I didn't have the strength to do anything other than be in bed. I really hope you like it and it was what you expected.

[kiwriteswords]

Omg based on the gifs you reblogged with our man and his tight shirts, could you write a story (maybe christmas) where Reader keeps buying Hotch shirts that are too tight and hes like why? and has to explain lololol

He's a little bit older...got a bit of a dad bod [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: >1k|| AN: omg YES. YESS. YES. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. The title is a nod to Sabrina Carpenter's Christmas Song! xoxo

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, dad bod Hotch, Hotch x His Tight Button-Ups, Christmas Morning, Christmas activities, Gift Giving, Established Relationship, BAU Reader, mentions of weight changes/body changes, Jack is present, age-gap relationship

Summary: You really...really love Hotch in his tight button-ups, so you choose not to size up this Christmas for his gifts.

Aaron Hotchner woke early on Christmas morning, the subtle glow of winter light filtering through the curtains. The tree in the living room twinkled with lights, the gifts beneath it carefully wrapped. Hotch was always the first to rise, a habit from years of early morning cases. Today, though, it was the excitement that nudged him from sleep. This Christmas was special—not just because of the holiday, but because he was sharing it with you and Jack.

You stirred beside him, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you felt him shift. "Morning," you murmured, your voice thick with sleep but bright with the day's joy.

"Morning," Hotch replied, his voice low. He watched as you stretched, the corners of your eyes crinkling with a smile. "Ready to see what Santa brought?"

You laughed, the sound as warm as the blankets piled around you. "Only if I get coffee first."

Hotch grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed to start the coffee. By the time he returned with two steaming mugs, Jack was already rummaging through the stockings, his excitement palpable.

The morning passed in a flurry of ripped wrapping paper and joyful exclamations. Hotch couldn't help but feel a profound sense of contentment watching you and Jack. You had integrated into their lives seamlessly, bringing a lightness to their home that Hotch hadn't realized was missing.

When Jack finally settled down with his new video games, Hotch found you in the kitchen, tidying up the remnants of the morning’s chaos. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Thank you for the shirts," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "But I think I might need a bigger size these days."

You turned in his arms, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh? And why is that?" you teased.

Hotch chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Well, it seems I've filled out a bit more than I used to." He wasn't ashamed of it—his body had changed, but he felt strong, healthy. And if the way your gaze lingered on him lately was any indication, you didn't seem to mind the changes either.

Your smile widened, and you reached up to trace the collar of his shirt, the fabric taut across his shoulders. "I've noticed," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And I have to say, I really like it. The way your shirts fit now... it’s incredibly attractive."

Aaron Hotchner felt a familiar warmth spread through him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee or the fire crackling in the living room. He was acutely aware of the changes in his body over the years. He wasn't as lean as he had been when Jack was born, or even when you first met him. Getting older, his fitness routine was not quite what it once was; he sometimes worried about how these changes were perceived, especially by someone younger like you.

"Yeah?" he asked, a part of him needing to hear more, to understand how you saw him.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw. "Yeah. It suits you. It’s…really hot," you confessed, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he said, and then, softer, "because there's no one else's opinion I care about more than yours."

You blushed at his words, your eyes shining with affection. "Good," you said simply. Then, with a teasing poke to his chest, you added, "Maybe Santa should bring you some more of those shirts next year."

Hotch pretended to consider it, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Only if Santa agrees to keep making comments on how hot they look on me."

"You have no idea," you laughed, leaning in closer. "Sometimes, at work, it's honestly a little distracting." Your voice dropped to a playful whisper, "There are meetings where I'm definitely more focused on your...shirt situation than the case briefings."

Hotch's eyebrows rose, his lips curving into a smirk at your confession. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone equally teasing.

"Absolutely," you affirmed with a nod. "Especially when you're up there giving a profile, all serious and command-mode with your suit jacket off... It’s a lot to handle," you grinned, poking him again gently.

Hotch's laughter filled the kitchen, deep and heartfelt. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. "Well, I'll have to make sure take the jacket off more often then, just to keep things interesting," he quipped.

"I'd appreciate that," you said, your eyes alight with mischief. "Maybe I'll even start a personal rating system for them. You know, to provide feedback."

"Looking forward to your reviews," Hotch replied, the warmth in his voice reflecting the warmth in his chest. This easy banter, the shared smiles, they made everything feel right.

This Christmas, like all the moments since you'd joined his life, felt complete. Hotch knew there would be challenges ahead, cases to solve, and long nights. But with you by his side, sharing whispers and stolen kisses between cups of coffee and Christmas lights, he felt ready for anything.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

@iyskgd

[blueblossomrose]

Pleaseeeee I wanna see more on leona from the parent thing 🥺

Course! Here we go!

This post is part of the Twisted Parents Series.

Content: Post-canon, Leona being a tired dad, fem!afab!mc, fluffy.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Being a father was never something that really crossed his mind. Dealing with Cheka, and his own childhood problems, made him skeptical about the idea.

MC kind of knew about it, but she was ready to tell him anyway.

Leona was surprised and at the same time not. He wouldn't verbalize about it, but after the wedding, his mind turned to children for the first time.

He wouldn't say it was a desire to have children, but more like a concept, imagination.

Well, now he didn't have to imagine anymore.

In the first few months, he's sounds neutral. He doesn't hate it, but he has confused mixed feelings about it.

He doesn't feel the huge appeal, and deep down that makes him angry and sad.

Because he knows he's probably not making you feel safe, because he knows he is behaving exactly like his own parents, ignorants of love.

He refuses to ask Farena anything at first, but it gets to a point where he's so upset that he ends up venting to him.

Farena was straightforward in pointing out that Leona doesn't need to force himself to be something he's not. That he doesn't need to doubt his own emotions because of other people's emotions.

And after this conversation, he goes to talk to MC. She, despite being slightly confused too, didn't crucify him for it. Leona continued to protect her with all his might throughout her pregnancy.

When MC's belly grows and he feels the first kick, his mental confusion worsened, conflicting feelings hitting each other, and even though he still seemed indifferent... there was something between and MC notice.

When he held the babies in his arms for the first time, however... his gaze, which had been different, changed completely.

He loved those children. There was no way he could hate them.

He was: "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to them."

And MC was: "I know 😊"

He is a tired father, as expected of him. Yet, he's doing well there.

One of the common scenes is him lying on your lap while you fold clothes or do some other activity, and your children on top of him, pulling his ears and tail while he sleeps.

When they are babies, Leona is ok to stay up with them while MC sleeps. He understands how tiring it is. Plus, he likes to feel important when he sees that the little ones fall asleep more easily when they are in his arms.

Many times you wake up with the babies on top of you because Leona put them in bed to sleep with you two.

As the babies grow, you notice more clearly how docile Leona is with his daughter.

As if anything Zuri asked for, Leona would give it to her.

He would play with her dolls wearing a pink dress if she asked.

Which honestly wouldn't be impossible for her to ask for. Zuri is very demanding.

Totally different from Zayne and Sekani. Zayne is calmer, really quiet. Sekani is a shy, very sweet boy, and slightly fearful...

Zayne enjoys playing board games even at a young age. Leona doesn't mind playing with him often. It's pretty funny when sometimes he ends up losing and looks at his 6 year old son like this: 🤨

He compliments Zayne anyway.

Sekani is undeniably more attached to his mother, since he is the type of child who likes to be pampered with affection and MC is always holding him in her arms.

But Leona also showers him with affection (in a more discreet way), so he enjoys being with his father as well. Leona makes him feel safe, so whenever he is scared, Sekani runs to his father.

Despite sometimes complaining, Leona spends a lot of time with them. A lot of time. MC soon realizes that it is him giving his children the affection and attention that he did not receive.

Also, Cheka joins his cousins to go and bother his uncle. He loves having someone to play with now!

Leona having his three children and nephew glued to him 24 hours a day. Okay, maybe I exaggerated. 8 hours a day.

MC often joins in on the fun. When playing tag, Leona is usually quick to catch her because he knows where she usually hides. He will jump on you without mercy and probably scare you, but he will quickly make you laugh with involuntary tickles.

Leona finds the kids easily. And the kids can find you easily when it's their turn. Hide and seek with beastmen is no fun.

At the end of the day, Leona watches you sleeping in his arms along with the children... and he thinks that love and being loved like that isn't bad at all.

[star-suh]

Movie Night and We’re Not Watching the Movie but is Still a Movie Night

Seok Matthew x Male Reader

cw: dom top matthew, degradation, sweat, spit, bareback, hole slapping, fingering, rimjob, facesitting, breeding, feminization, chest play, musk kink, impregnation kink.

an: if i took a shot every time i wrote matthew/matt in this fic i would’ve already died of an ethylic coma or wtv that’s called.

—

matthew is hosting a movie night with all his friends, they were planning to watch a horror movie, after all halloween is just weeks away. due to some inconveniences only yn showed up at the front door of matthew’s apartment. “did i come too early?” an oblivious yn asks, “not really, the others have to stay in their jobs or do some other important things.. so it’s just you and me tonight”. “ok” yn step inside the other’s house and plop himself down on the coach in front of the big tv waiting for matthew to arrive with food and drinks.

“no no no no don’t go there!!” yelled yn grabbing matthew’s arm as if it was some mystic shield to protect him from the evil spirits of the movie. this action drew a smile from matthew who kept on eating the popcorn. “you are a scaredy cat, why did you even accept a horror movie if you don’t like them?” matthew blurted out, receiving a punch from the aforementioned, “horror movies are best if you watch them in company” and as he finishes his phrase a loud bang was heard on the house causing both men to jump in surprise and hug each other in fear, “what was that?” yn questions, “i don’t know” matthew answers, “let’s find it out” he adds.

after walking around the living room in tippy toes they find out what the sound was, the ac just broke and stopped working, “oh my god. not now please” matthew hit the device multiple times hoping that it could go back to work again, “matthew it's no use in doing that. you have to wait tomorrow so the technician could come and fix it” yn says grabbing matt’s shoulder.

they decided to watch the movie till the end but the heat was getting uncomfortable, “is night now but it's still hot, what the hell” yn spoke, fanning himself with his hand. “yeah” matthew did the same but with his tank top, “is so annoying” immediately afterwards he gets rid of the piece of clothing, remaining shirtless on the sofa besides yn while using the clothing to cool himself down a bit. this took yn by surprise who couldn't help to glance at certain occasions at the other’s sculpted body. his big sweaty arms touching his, his sweaty tits sitting pretty there and his toned abs with beads of sweat rolling down to his crotch area. “fuck” matthew says out of nowhere, clearly annoyed, “this fucking hot is getting on my fucking nerves”. “woah buddy what was that, angry much?” yn says. “shut up, i don't like being all sweaty and sticky” matthew wipes the sweat off of his forehead and slicks back his hair so it won't stick on the already wiped out surface. “you look sexy tho” seconds later yn realized what he just said when matthew looked directly into his eyes, “did i say that out loud?” he asks, embarrassment present in his tone. matthew just nods, “oh” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

“well, who would've thought you were a slut yn” matthew says, breaking eye contact and looking towards the screen, “what?” something inside yn lits up, why did he like being called a slut? is it because such a hot man said it?. “we're here watching a movie and enduring this heat and the only thing that crosses your mind is my body. you're a slut” he remarks. “well damn, sorry for speaking my mind” he replied turning his head to the side to not look at matthew, “you know what's the worst?” the other guy asks, grabbing yn by the chin and turning his head so they can make eye contact again, “you liked it. i saw your blushed cheeks. you can deny it but your body is betraying you” matthew gently pats yn’s bulge with his index finger “didn't know you were into that. slut” he whispered that last word near yn’s ear. god, yn swear he could've cum right at the spot by just that word, seeing this side of matthew lit a fire inside yn, something that till now only matthew has been capable of doing.

“what the” yn mutters embarrassed, “ma-matthew wait it’s not what it looks like”. “cut it. i know what you are” matthew sexily cups one of his tits with his hands “and i know what you deserve”.

matthew was the first one to attack, latching his lips on yn’s, kissing him passionately, with hunger, his tongue dominating the other’s, saliva spilling out of their mouths. the messiest kiss they probably had in their lives. “matt-” yn tried to stop him but he couldn’t, his cheeks painted in a bright pink hue. “what happened to the whore of before? too much to handle?” matt questions, “typical sluts, they go out whoring themselves out but when they finally get some dick they back out like pussies” . after that matthew puts his middle and index finger on the other’s mouth, “be a good bitchboy and lick them good” meanwhile he starts to undress him by ripping his shirt and pulling out his shorts and underwear, “slutty body” he murmurs. yn gagged on matthew’s fingers, tears pooling on his eyes. he then pulls them out and yn coughs, the top lifts up the underwear barely so the bottom’s hole is uncovered, “let’s make this pussy slick”.

he firstly caresses around the ring of muscles covering in yn’s saliva, then puts the middle finger right on the hole, slapping it lightly and gently, “mmm warm pussy” he licks and smacks his lips. the first digit entered yn’s back entrance, “hngh ahhh” yn moaned, matthew brushed his lips against yn’s, the latter opened his mouth to kiss the other but matthew didn’t comply, he only teased and then put the second digit inside. “matthew too much” yn drooled, “pfft” the top replied “weak whore”, he grabbed yn by the back of his neck and pushed him against his tits, “suck them, and lick all the sweat off of them”. while yn licked those pretty manly tits matthew keeps fingering him with now 4 fingers inside. both moaned in unison, the pleasure being immeasurable already. next, matthew leaned on the coach while yn lowered himself slowly, sitting on his face. his already fingered hole clenching right away when it feels the top’s tongue barely touching it, “sensitive already?” matt laughs.

with his strong sweaty arms around yn’s hips, matthew guided him to ride his tongue, pushing him up and down with threads of saliva connecting his mouth to the other’s hole. tasting that warm sweaty pussy, “mhn i love this”,the room echoing with sloppy, gushy sounds. when yn goes up, matthew rubs his dilated hole and slap it harshly and when he goes down, the top’s tongue enters completely past the rim and wriggles inside, sending waves of pleasure throughout yn’s whole body.

yn has now completely given into pleasure and matthew’s domination, “who’s a bitchboy?” matt asks slapping the pink tip of his dick on yn’s puckered hole, “me, i’m a bitchboy” the bottom replies and is rewarded with matthew putting his dick inside all at once, “yeahh” they both say in unison, yn rolled his eyes back. “you like this, don’t you, needy cockwhore?”, the other nodded. matthew rams himself inside yn, not an ounce of pity nor concern on his thrusts. “how’s my sex toy doing, want more?” matt asks, “yes please” at this point yn looks like a gooner “look at you, all dumb over my cock”.

yn loved how verbal matthew was, degrading him left and right, calling him all types of names like pathetic slut, manwhore, cockslut, sex toy, human cumdump, all of them sounding like pretty words to yn, ringing in his ears like a beautiful melody. “i wonder if they all had made it to the movie night you would be acting like a manwhore too”, he pants, “because that’s what you would like right. being passed around by everyone, you wanna be their personal fleshlight?” each word was laced with venom, even a bit of jealousy deriving into hard thrusts that made yn’s ass recoil, his legs trembling and wiggling as if they were made of jelly, making him almost incapable of maintaining his position in all fours. their passionate encounter was the only thing in their minds that they forgot about the heat, the sofa was soaked in sweat, their bodies dripping on it. each thrust splashing some of the salty beads everywhere. yn turned around to face matthew and leaned on the coach, matthew spits in between his dick and yn’s hole resuming his thrust right away, “give me some of it” yn begs, “sure” a thick thread of spit falls down matthew’s mouth right on yn’s mouth, he swallows it and sticks his tongue out, asking for more. therefore they began to spit and swallow, matthew collects saliva inside his mouth then yn opens his mouth to receive it, matthew spats and yn swallows savoring it. sometimes matthew just spits on yn’s closed mouth and they shared a sloppy kiss, when their mouths separate strings of saliva falls down their chins and onto their bodies.

yn appreciates the top’s hot body drenched in sweat that consequently drips onto the bottom’s ass and his musky scent being spreaded in the air. it’s so manly, it feels intoxicating for yn, like a drug he’s not going to be able to forget anytime soon. matthew plunges his thumb alongside his shaft on yn’s ass, “i want to break this pussy yn, make you beg for my dick, beg me to put my loads inside you”, his hands snaking around yn’s neck “tell me you wanna be my cumdump” he presses lightly around it, cutting yn’s breath support making him feel lightheaded, “yeshh pleasseee” he slurred, cockdrunked. “fill me upp.. fill your whore up with all your cum.. make me pregnant”. that was matthew’s last straw, he couldn't contain himself anymore and with an almost beastly grunt he came inside, his ass contracting while he made sure to leave the last drop secured on the other’s abused walls, “i fed your pussy with my milk” he pants, “you better not waste it, i’ll be sure to pump more inside until you are fully knocked up” he touches his lower tummy. yn happily nods ”that’s the only purpose of your whore matt, to always carry your loads” yn stands up and massage his friend’s balls, “we should buy a plug so not a single drop escapes that loose pussy” matthew proposes “and we should finish the movie too” he adds, somehow embarrassed realizing how he acted. “i’m looking forward the next movie night” yn stands up and goes to the bathroom to clean himself a little, leaving a flustered matthew sitting on the couch with his dick getting hard again after seeing his cum sliding down yn’s legs.

[getthehexstrap]

Hi! So, I have an idea for a Jinx x fem. I was thinking reader’s parents are meeting Jinx for the first time for Christmas dinner. They ultimately disapprove of Jinx, so reader leaves with her. Maybe, it could end with reader telling Jinx how much she loves her. You can totally play around with this if you want. Thanks for your time!

Not So Picture Perfect

Jinx x piltie!(fem)reader

omg i love this request, thank you!

summary: jinx is meeting your parents for the first time at christmas dinner.

genre: a little angsty, fluff

warnings: arguing, cursing, stuck up parents.

a/n: it's been forever since i've written angst, bare with me... also, this was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i accidentally clicked the wrong button 😭

"You know, I'm never really nervous but right now I feel like I need to run the other direction and hide." Jinx laughs softly as she scratches the back of her head.

The two of you are currently standing on the doorstep of your childhood home for Christmas dinner. She's dressed in a different attire than usual; a white, flowy button up that she stole from you, and a pair of black pants. Her hair is done in her usual braids and you only used a little bit of makeup as you thought she didn't even need it, but it made her feel better.

You grew up in Piltover, but as you got older you quickly realized you weren't fit for it, so you ventured down to Zaun where you met Jinx. Much to no one's surprise, your parents weren't too fond of that.

"You're going to be just fine, baby." You assured her, flattening the soft wrinkles in her shirt with a grin.

Your back automatically stiffened up straight at the sound of the door opening. "Y/n." Your mother addressed you, tone sharp as she eyed you and your... 'guest' down. "Mom, Hi." You smiled softly as you grabbed Jinx's hand. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Jinx."

Your mother's eyes glanced at the blue-haired girl beside you. "Yes, I've heard so much about you, Jinx." She spoke, looking the girl up and down once, turning on her heel. "Come in. Dinner is getting cold." You turned your head towards her with a sorry smile before squeezing her hand, and pulling her inside.

•

"So, Jinx; I've heard you... make things?" Your father questioned after a few moments of meaningless chatter. "Uhm, yes sir, I do." You could hear the nervousness in her voice. Your hand found its place on her thigh, rubbing soft circles with your thumb as you shot her a reassuring smile.

"And these things are?" He asks, taking a bite of his food. "Well, they're all different, ya'know?" She laughs softly, trying to lighten the mood. "She makes these beautiful trinkets." You smile, saving her before she tells them she makes bombs. She sends you a thankful smile in return.

Your mother clears her throat, dropping her fork and picking up her napkin. "Trickets?" You immediately heard the judgement in her tone as she spoke. "How peculiar." She snickers quietly, and your hand softly squeezes Jinx's thigh again.

"Don't worry about them, baby." You quietly mouth to her with a small smile before changing the topic.

•

"Y/n, may we speak to you in the other room please?" Your mother's voice rang behind you, grabbing your attention away from talking with Jinx by the tree. You give her a quick peck before following her to the other room, reassuring you'll only be gone a few moments.

"Yes?" You ask, crossing your arms as you reach the next room. "I think you two should... break things off." She says, placing her hands on her hips with a stern look. You scoff in return, shaking your head. "No." Your voice is just as stern as her face, and as you stand up straighter to meet her eye, you can see the shocked look in her face.

"No?" She questions you, eyes wide in anger. "How dare you—" "No, mom. How dare you! I'm not a kid, you can't tell me who to date anymore! You don't get to control who I can and can't love like you do everything else." You finally stick up for yourself, and you hear the gasps from both parents.

"You cannot speak to your mother like that young lady!" Your father chimes in, sticking his finger in your face as he gets closer. "Oh please! She's spoken to me the same way since I was 8 years old, it wouldn't kill her to be treated the same way for once." You roll your eyes before you feel a hand slap your cheek.

You scoff again, grabbing the now burning flesh with your hand before looking her in the eyes. "This is your last chance, Y/n. Break things off with that– street trash, and we can forget about this little outburst of yours. Or, you leave with her and you will get cut off." Your mother stared down at you with narrow eyes, with her jaw clenched in anger.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, but it wasn't because you were sad, no, it was just confirmation settling in. "Okay." You start, wiping your eyes once before standing up straight again. "Goodbye, then." You go turn to walk away when you see Jinx, standing in the doorway with an almost guilty look on her face as she picks at her fingers.

"You turn back around right now!"

You look back at your parents once more before walking towards Jinx and grabbing her hand. "Come on, we're leaving."

You pay no mind to the screaming voices of your mother and father as you walk out of your childhood home. "God, I fucking hate them." You mumbled under your breath.

"I'm really sorry." Jinx speaks up, though you can barely hear her. You stop walking and turn to face her, grabbing her face. "Baby, listen to me." You smile as you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong, they're just a couple stuck up dicks who can't get their heads out of their asses." You like softly, stroking her cheek with your thumb.

"But they said—" "I don't care what they said. I want to be with you. You make me so happy, I love you, Jinx." Your eyes look into hers as you speak, and you can see the shock hit her when you say it.

"Wh—" She blinks slowly. "What?" It comes out in a whisper, not fully comprehending what was just said. "Y/n. You don't mean that. I'm not good for you– you should just go back." Jinx tries, beginning to walk away while shaking her head.

"Jinx! I don't care what they think. I don't care what anyone thinks. You're more than good for me, baby. I love you." You call out, trying to catch up with her but it's quickly replaced with a deep, passionate kiss as she spins around and her lips crash against your own.

The snow covers you both as you pull away. Jinx takes a breath, closing her eyes before opening them again with her own soft smile. "I love you."

You lean in to kiss her once more, this one quicker than the last. "Let's go home, baby." You kiss her cheek once as you lead the way back to your city.

"Home." She giggles. "I like that."

this is so short and lowkey horrible im so sorry guys 💔 buttt, merry christmas and happy holidays 💋

[aetherstorms]

"Aside from the lab in Azys Lla, the only other one is in Garlemald and I'm not going back there any time soon." Amon retorted from the kitchen. "Though I certainly won't deny that Azys Lla could use some cleaning, considering someone went tromping all over the place breaking things! Or well, I suppose it must have been several someones, so I can't lay all the blame at your feet." He cackled then at mention of the soul transfer. "I do believe you were the one who just brought it up, but good to know you realized the lavish meal I was referring to!"

Themis tilted his head slightly in curiosity concerning the soul transfer statement, but since Amara seemed uncomfortable with it he opted not to ask. Instead he gave a slight shrug. "My duty as Emissary always went beyond simply the Convocation's interests. Being Zodiark's Heart didn't change that. Even when it came to our agreed upon goal of restoring Etheirys to its whole state, the methods of doing so were not something we always agreed upon....ah, but that is a moot point now since we have agreed there is no further need to seek the Rejoining."

He shifted to rest chin in hand then, and made a thoughtful sound. "Ah, well you don't have to introduce us, of course. I was simply wondering if you would." His gaze drifted toward the kitchen. "Although, much as it goes without saying, you may want to....rub down Amon's sharper edges beforehand if you do." He looked back to her. "Though might I ask why? You choose to live close to them, so I assume you get along with them well enough."

Amon shrugged. “Limsa? Mm….gets awfully cold in the winters, doesn’t it? Not to mention the storms….but maybe, I suppose. Given the choice I just want somewhere with lab space. Oh how I miss my home in Allag….” He tilted his head toward Themis, then smirked. “Oh yes, certainly. You can join us if you want. I’m quite the good cook and the last time I made a lavish meal no one appreciated it properly!”

Themis huffed a soft breath and looked to Amara with a smile. “Then I will stay for dinner.” Amon rolled his eyes and minced his way back to the kitchen. Themis turned his head to clock his location, then looked back at Amara again. “Well, this is going better than I thought. Though he never clashed with me the way he did with Emet-Selch, so maybe this will all work out.” It wasn’t as if Amon could really do anything to him. His body was the closest to being his own since the sundering, but he was still an Ascian. Poison would do nothing, and unless he had white auracite and knew how to use it, he couldn’t kill him in any way that mattered. He didn’t think Amon would risk poisoning Amara though. “So, your family is here?” He continued. “Will you be introducing us to them at some point?”

[galaxy-fleur]

⋆Midnight Rendezvous⋆

Pairing: Post-RE4R!Leon/gn!reader.

Summary: It's only natural to miss and long for the one you love, regardless of how accustomed you are to being apart from them. One lucky phone call can mean so much more when it's an unexpected surprise. For you and Leon alike. Or: Quick smutty drabble for @thatpyramidthing that turned into a one-shot, which then turned into a full-blown fic. Oops!

Word Count: 4k words.

Notes: Established relationship, phone sex, mutual masturbation, smut with feelings. Suspension of disbelief because people were not using their phones like this in 2000's lmao.

Credit: Divider by @/saradika-graphics

For you and Leon, spending extended periods of time apart was not an exception but rather a tried-and-true routine. That was just the nature of his job, and it couldn't be fought or challenged, only accepted and adapted to accordingly. The only thing you could do was cherish what time you did get to spend together.

This particular assignment of his was the same as any other. While you had no expectations for him to call, you can't help but beam once you see his name appear on your phone screen. Waisting no time at all, you quickly fall back into bed and answer the phone, feeling a little bit too excited for what is likely going to be a brief check-in given how busy he is normally when he's gone. Still, him calling at all is enough for your heart to race, and although it was late at night, you didn't mind at all.

For him, you'd jump up at 4 am if you had to.

"-Hey."

It's painfully obvious he has no idea what to say, probably just wanting to hear you speak more than anything else. The sound of his voice ringing in your ear makes you smile a little, even if his greeting was almost comically abrupt. Then again, you did not expect him to make a lovey-dovey speech for you or anything. That's just not the type of man Leon was, and you had no qualms with that. Moreover, he was probably very tired, anyway. You weren't about to complain over him not sounding joyful enough when he already made the effort to call you in the first place.

"Hi," you reply, shifting to lay flat on your back, your gaze staring up at the ceiling. Without his warm body here to cuddle up to, your bed felt a bit too large for your liking. However, expressing such a thought outloud was way too sappy-sounding, even for you. So, you kept the sentiment to yourself. "Did not expect you to call. Did you get a free moment?"

An ocean away, Leon slouches into his own hotel bed, cluttered with belongings haphazardly thrown abound with not much care for hospitality, his phone in his hand. What he does know, however is that he wanted, no, needed you to be over here, with him, right now. But, alas, that's a wish too ambitious to be granted. So he settles for the next best thing. And hearing your voice is definitely no reason to complain about.

He takes a deep breath, almost feeling as if his physical distance from you is the main cause of the exhaustion seeping into his bones. He missed your voice, touch, even your scent. It wasn't until he spoke to you again that he realized how much he had missed you.

"Yeah, I was surprised, too. The job's done, but they can't take me back to base yet because of the weather. So I'm just stuck here until further notice." He hesitates for a moment before adding, his voice taking on a more softer tone: "…Are you in the mood to keep me company?"

"-Is that even a question?" You laugh slightly, shaking your head, although he obviously couldn't see it from a phone call. Your reaction causes him to smile and chuckle to himself as well. God, he missed hearing you laugh. "How your mission went, by the way? Everything okay?"

Really, mission talk? His expectations were slightly higher than that.

"It was fine. Same bullshit. A bunch of bastards getting what they deserve." A part of him almost wants to act as though he's not truly alone in this dimly lit room, so he lets out another breath and turns over to lie on his stomach. It was hard to feel cozy when nothing about this place felt like home. Your voice helped with that, though. "I'm more interested in talking to you."

He hears you laugh under your breath again at his unenthusiastic answer. It wasn't necessary for him to say it outloud for you to understand that he was not interested in discussing work. Not that you blame him.

"The feeling's mutual, trust me," you murmur, a small smile audible in your voice. "Not to rush things before they happen, but I've been planning on making that braised steak for you when you get back. You know, the one you liked on Thanksgiving."

The notion of some homemade food instantly makes him feel a little more excited. The mere thought causes his tired eyes to light up a bit and his mouth to water. Guess men really don't need much to be happy, huh? What can he say, few things bring as much joy as a homemade meal from the one you love. Especially when he compares it to quick tasteless meals he got by with on the job.

"Oh really now?" His voice now has a somewhat lighter lilt to it, his words gradually regaining some of their emotion. "-Because that sounds like you're trying to butter me up for something."

He teases, but the excitement in his voice is very much genuine. You laugh, this time a muffled giggle, and the sound promts a small, warm smile to make its way onto his lips as he closes his eyes and concentrates solely on your voice through the speaker. This was nice.

"Is it so odd that I want to treat you to something?"

"-No, it's not odd. It's sweet. I appreciate it. I really do," he corrects softly, quietly expressing his appreciation. For a man who has endured far too much hardship for his age, it was refreshing to have someone care for him in such a simple yet meaningful way. After a brief peaceful pause, he speaks again in a somewhat quieter voice, nervously drumming his fingers on the bedsheets: "...Hey, can I ask... can I be a bit selfish with you for a second?"

The way he fidgets and murmurs out his request is almost bashful; it's a part of him that, all things considered, feels a little strange even to him. But he can't help it. You make him anxious, but not in the stuffy, claustrophobic way he's accustomed to. This type of anxiousness feels good. Exciting. A welcome contrast to the blood-curdling anxiety that was his unspoken partner on the job.

"How so?" You inquire, curiosity evident in your voice. You were oceans away - literally - so it's not like there was much for you two to do except talk. A part of him was honestly just going to ask you to stay on the phone with him until he falls asleep. It's a kind of a dumb request, which makes him embarrassed, but he doesn't really want to back down from it anyhow.

Leon bites his lip, slightly perplexed on how to go about it without just asking you upfront. He wasn't good at this whole 'subtlety' thing.

"I, uh… I just wanted to ask you to talk to me a little more. For a while, I mean." He pauses, lets out another sigh, and then shifts in his bed into a more comfortable position. To hell with this, he might as well just spill the beans to you now. "My mind's just filled with… crap. I’m tired. The 'I could sleep for a week straight' type of tired. But I know I’ll just end up tossing and turning for hours instead. I just... your voice would help."

You chuckle at that, the sound uplifting, as at least you're not bewildered by his request. He knows you'd gladly do a lot more than just talk for him if you were actually here. Which makes the whole separation even more difficult to deal with. He shifts onto his back, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling as he lays his head back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

"Well... I wish I could have you laying on top of me so I could play with your hair, but... I guess us just talking on the phone will have to do for now."

He feels a small, enjoyable shiver from the mental picture you conjured up for him. The sense of contentment he's always felt when you did that is something he knows by heart now. His brain always seemed to just shut itself down, nothing for him to focus on except for the sensation of your soothing touch in his hair. God knows he'd kill to have that right now.

"Yeah. You really know what to do to make me feel all better… I hate being apart like this." He shifts again, feeling a little restless due to your words and his own thoughts making him long for you ever more. He hesitates for a moment, his heart racing as he imagines your touch. If he tries hard enough, he swears he can nearly feel the ghost of your fingertips combing through his hair. "Keep going. Tell me something else."

His voice comes out a bit muffled, and he is inadvertently tightening his grip on the phone a little, almost as if it'll bring him closer to you, somehow.

"Like what?" You ask without hesitation. Well, it's better than you playing a guessing game with him, at least. You were notoriously horrible at those, anyways.

Leon takes a deep breath while he clumsily mimics your touch by idly running his fingers through his hair. His hands are not comparable to yours at all. They're rougher and completely different in size. He drops his hand back onto the sheets with a small, frustrated huff.

"Anything. Just... keep talking. Your voice, it’s…" He clears his throat and considers the precise words he should use here. He's sure on where he is going with this, either. He simply knew that he needed to hear you, and that this need was gradually developing into a full-on craving that was desperate to be satisfied. "I want to hear more of it. And... what you’d do to me if you were here."

That's subtle enough, he thinks. He's fine with you being the one to decide on the way to interpret him. He just wanted to listen to you.

But, admittedly, his brain had other ideas.

As Leon closes his eyes, his mind is racing with countless ideas, none of which are as innocent as a simple cuddle or a hand stroking through his hair. He imagines your weight settled on top of him, steadying him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your bodies mold and move together, skin to skin, with nothing but your presence there to fill his head with. Your sweet voice whispering all the things he wants to hear, your warm breath waffling over his ear.

All the ways in which you hold him, touch him, want him.

Your voice, which sounds nearly muffled through the pleasant fog buzzing in his head, jolts him out of his fantasy.

"Oh. ...Ohhh," you draw out, the realization clear in your voice. He almost snorts in endearment. Well, at least you caught on. His heart flutters in his chest with wordless excitement as the thought causes heat to rush to his face. Nearly subconsciously, he reaches for the other side of the bed with his free hand, almost as if you would be there. Which, of course, you're not. Much to his disappointment. "We're not... talking about cuddles here, are we?"

The tone of your voice changes, and Leon's breath catches a little. He can imagine how flushed your cheeks probably look, how your heart is beating a little faster at the realization. At this point, he was too worked up to restrain himself. Besides, the cat's out of the bag now. Not much point in walking back on his own words. Biting his lip, he lets his fingers slowly slide down his abdomen as he contemplates your words. Would you be up to what he has in mind? He hopes you would.

"No. No we’re not." He reaches for his belt and slowly starts to unfasten it. The button on his jeans is next. Then the zipper. The release of some tension causes him to inhale sharply, feeling the cool air against his skin, a small shiver running up his spine. He closes his eyes. "Keep. Talking."

His tone is direct, curt, rough. It's the same one often uses on the job, perfect for giving out clear orders in the heat of the moment, but using it under these circumstances definitely hits a little different. Especially for you. He can hear your breath quicken just a tiny bit, wordlessly reassuring him that you are, indeed, just as into this as he is. He smiles a little at the thought, feeling both relieved and little amused. He can imagine you lying there, your mind running hundred miles an hour to come up with a response while holding the phone up to your ear. He wonders if your other hand is wandering south now, too.

"Well I'd, uhm..." He lets you take your time and get your bearings, not hurrying you further. Hell, he's perfectly fine with you pulling out of this if it just wasn't clicking for you. He made his intentions clear. Now it was up to you to make the call, whatever it was. On any other day, he'd be the one getting all awkward over talking of these things outloud, but today, his mind is focused solely on your voice coming through the speaker. He hears you sigh, a sound steadying, and he feels himself smile. There you go. "I'd... want to kiss you. Long. Until we're both out of breath. And you get that dazed look in your eyes. You look so beautiful when you get like that. And just from me kissing you, too."

Leon listens to every word with keen interest, his eyebrows raising as you create a vivid picture in his mind for him to mull over. It was relatively tame, but it was a good starting point. Not to mention genuine. He can almost sense the warm touch of your lips against his, the taste of you on his tongue. You calling him beautiful was a nice cherry on top, making his breathing quicken in turn.

With his movements jerkier and clumsier than usual due to the excitement that was now steadily flowing through his veins, he quickly pulls his shirt over his head. He doesn't really look where it lands, just throwing it somewhere to the side with zero regard for decency. Not like it matters.

With his eyes still closed, he moves his hand slowly down his bare chest, grazing each ridge of his abs with his fingertips before lowering it further. He tries to mimic the manner in which you would touch him from memory. It's not a flawless attempt, bit it's good enough in his books. He can't help but groan softly, finding himself wanting to press into his own touch, if only to feel even the fraction of how your affection would feel like upon his battered body.

"And then?" He prompts, his voice lower now, charged with underlying tension hanging in the air. He knows full well that you can probably sense the hunger and anticipation he's not trying very hard to conceal. He wishes he could actually see you right now. But, alas, this will have to do.

"-What are you doing right now?" Your voice breaks him out of his momentary fantasy, his heart picking up speed in his chest as he focuses on you: every little change in your breathing, the dip in your tone, the words you choose to say to him. He hears you swallow before continuing: "What would you have me do if I was there? I could... y'know, go from there."

His heart swells with affection as he laughs a little. You weren't very slick. Then again, you never were. He liked you for that. It was painstakingly clear that you were just eager to hear exactly what he was up to. He was happy you were enjoying yourself.

He moves again, lying on his side, and switching the phone to loudspeaker while resting it on the cushion next to him before sitting back up to get comfortable. His own breath comes out shakily now, charged with rising arousal. Slowly, his other, free hand moves up his stomach, stopping at his chest. He huffs softly as he imagines your touch.

"I’d… I’d have you sit here." He moves his hand up to one of his pectorals and squeezes slightly as he pictures your fingers squeezing at his flesh instead. The action, along with his imagination, makes him bite his lip again, sucking in a breath through his nose. "Right in my lap."

He can’t help letting out a quiet 'fuck...' as he imagines you on top of him, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him, long and deep. Oh, what he wouldn't give just to have you close and to feel your lips against his again. He misses you so much that it's a little humiliating, but his mind is too hazy to care. No, all he cares about is you touching his bare skin with your hands, stroking the rising flames of his desire with every cares. Lost in the fantasy of your hand taking the place of his own, his hand slides higher up and touches his chin, causing sparks to bloom on his skin as he tilts his head back. He'd be just as pliant with you here, if not even more so. Just to feel wanted by you.

His mind is buzzing from the faint sounds of your own breathing coming through the speaker, which he can hear stuttering and quickening through the delightful fog filling his head. He doesn't push you into talking if you dont want to. However, he is well aware that you are not merely listening to him while innocently laying in your bed. He knows you well enough now to catch onto your state of arousal through the change in your breathing alone. He likes the thought of you doing the same as him right now. He hears some muffled shuffling on the other end of the line, something akin to bed covers being tousled around before you reply to him.

"On your lap," you repeat, almost as if testing out the idea in your head. Your tone is tight, and he can hear you take a single steadying breath before continuing: "I'd like that."

"Good," he finds himself responding, a faint smile on his lips. It's a small encouragement, just to let you know he's very much enjoying himself. To his surprise, you continue without any further promting from him.

"-I'd love to treat you after you get back. Just have you lay back and feel good while I take care of everything. Relax. You deserve it."

Your comments cause Leon's breath to catch abruptly, and he lets out a small, trembling gasp. He was not ready to hear something like that front you right now. In the best way possible. He is able to practically sense your presence and the grounding weight of your body upon him. As he runs his hand back down his chest and over his abs, they begin to tremble slightly.

"Fuck…" He groans lowly again, his brows drawing together in concentration as he pictures you in his lap. Your warmth against his hardening length, the way your hips would push against his.

His other hand mindlessly slides down as he palms himself through his jeans, his breath stuttering at much-needed stimulation. His hips jolt to press up firmly into his touch, imagining it's your hand instead of his own. He visualizes your fingers moving slowly down his chest. You kissing him all over as you usually do, leaving a trail of warm kisses down his hips and abdomen. He shivers and curses under his breath as the heat coiling in his gut only gets stronger.

"Leon?" It takes all of his inner strength not to whimper in response to your voice, which sounds both uncertain and needy. God, you just had to say his name of all things, huh?

"Keep going. Tell me more," he pants out softly, his voice rough with need. "Would you touch me?"

You laugh at that, and the sound makes him chuckle in response, his heart strangely light in his chest despite the intimate mood. You both sound so breathless. He likes that.

"Is that even a question?" You repeat the same thing you told him just minutes prior, and he can't help but snort. You got him there, he'll give you that. Though, your lighthearted playfulness soon shifts back into hushed arousal. "...Everywhere. Would love to touch you all over."

He swallows.

"Oh yeah? Seems like we both have the same idea."

You pause for a long time, and just as he's about to encourage you to speak your mind or reassure you, you beat him to it. And, boy, do you catch him off-guard.

"Just... Imagining riding you slowly. Make us both really feel all of it, every touch. I want to kiss at your neck, too... taste your skin, feel you shiver. And have my hands roaming all over you, too. Want to treat you right. Feel you."

...Oh, damn.

Leon moans at your words as he squeezes his length through his jeans a little. You just set his mind into overdrive. It's everything he wants and more. Your hands on his skin, your lips trailing warm, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, making him forget anything and everything but you and your touch. The way your hips would move against his, slowly and sensually, drawing out the pleasure until it becomes unbearable. At this point, his dick is practically aching to be touched, throbbing in the confines of his jeans.

"Jesus," he breathes out, a small, breathless chuckle following suit. Needless to say, you have him wrapped around your finger, even miles upon miles apart. He wouldn't have it any other way. "Keep talking like that and I'll lose it."

"Maybe I want to hear you lose it," you suggest to him softly, almost like you were testing the waters with what you could say to him. The idea makes him want to laugh. You didn't need to worry about a single thing with impressing him.

He quickly reaches for the waistband of his jeans and tugs them down just enough to free himself from the stiffling fabric. He exhales a shuddering breath as cool air hits his heated skin, a sense of relief accompanying the movement. He wastes no time wrapping his fingers over his cock, slowly stroking himself, still imagining your hand in its place instead of his own. Meanwhile, his other hand slides back up his chest, following the trajectory your touch would follow according to his memory. As he imagines you playfully nibbling at the side of his neck and whispering more sickeningly sweet dirty things into his ear, he shivers and gently rolls his thumb over his nipple.

"...Wish you were here," he exhales. He's losing himself in a fantasy that you two have created thus far, and it's getting easier and easier for him to just speak without hesitation or embarrassment. "Want your hands on me. Hips, stomach, chest, cock… everywhere."

In response, he hears you whine, and his mind generously conjures up a variety of possibilities for what you may be doing at the moment, each one more provocative than the last. What he wouldn't give to touch you right now, God. To be the reason behind those lovely sounds you are making.

"-So touch yourself," you instruct, your words barely above a whisper, your breaths coming out in small, shaky puffs of air, each one shooting straight to his groin. "Touch yourself like I would touch you right now. God, I would love to feel you under my hands..."

Leon shudders at your words, his cock throbbing in his hand as he instinctively bucks up, his breath faltering. A low groan leaves his lips, in equal measure in response to you as well as his touch. This time, he imagines you watching him, your own hand on yourself as well. Your lips parted and your cheeks flushed with arousal as you look at him dutifully.

"Fuck… I am,” he pants out, his hand moving a tad faster over his length. He senses himself leaking, the tip of his cock slick with precum. He spreads it around with his thumb, squeezes at the base, and then draws his hand back up. He bites his lip to stop another moan from slipping out, though, at this point it seems to be a futile effort. He's surprised he hasn't tasted blood yet. "Your hands would feel so good right now… so much better than mine…"

"Leon..." He hears you moaning out his name, and he swears that he almost came right then and there from the sound of it alone.

His free hand slides back up to his chest, gently squeezing at one of his nipples with the tips of his fingers. He pulls at it lightly, his brain picturing your teeth instead of his fingers. His back arches up towards the touch, a low groan leaving his lips.

"Tell me… where would you touch me?" He asks, his voice strained. "Be direct."

Your breath catches, as though you're taken aback by his question. But he was greedy, and he wanted more. He could feel his insides twisting and turning in the pit of his stomach, and not in a bad way. His spiraling brain almost couldn't handle the mental image of you touching yourself while on the phone with him, even though he was doing that exact same thing.

"Your chest," you murmur breathlessly, almost like the words were stealing your breath away as you shared them with him. And yet, you went on: "I want to touch your chest. Caress you all over... Squeeze at you, play with your nipples while I kiss the side of your neck and listen to you gasp and whine. Just like you like it."

Leon instantly visualizes your touch on him and lets out a deep wanton moan.

"Yes," he exhales. "Like that. Miss you..."

"-Miss you, too... so much." His head reels as you echo those words back to him in that breathy, almost whiny tone, and his hips automatically buck up into his hand in an attempt to feel what he perceives to be your touch.

He groans softly, running his hand over his chest, more to tease than to touch. Just as you said, he circles his nipple again and rolls the hardened bud under his thumb. Squeezing it just the way you would for him if you were here. Even if it's a poor substitute for the real thing. "Your mouth, too. Want it all."

Using his precum as lube, he begins to stroke himself quicker, rougher. He moves his hand up and down his shaft, squeezing a bit at the tip before returning back to the base in a familiar technique. Seeking the increasing pleasure coiling in his gut, he thrusts his hips up into his hand.

And as he hears every tiny sound of pleasure coming from your end, his desire for more only intensifies. You seem to be enjoying yourself just as much, stuttered breaths and muffled whines flowing through the receiver. He is saddened by the fact that he cannot see you in person at this moment in all your glory. But, this will have to do.

You exhale.

"Yeah," you encourage softly, your own voice breathy and hushed with arousal. "I'm right there with you."

"-Wish you were," he gasps out, his eyes shut tight as he wills himself to somehow bring this fleeting fantasy to life, however briefly. "Would feel so much better with you here."

"I am. Just close your eyes and focus on my voice. My hands stroking you, my mouth on your skin... Whatever you want. I'll give it to you. You deserve it."

Leon's already thin breaths come out in unsteady gasps as a result of your sweet encouragements. Your breathy and needy voice is somehow making him even more aroused than he already is, if that was even possible. His free hand descends to roam over his abdomen, primarily to visualize your hands mindlessly stroking his flesh. It's maddening.

"Fuck, you are too good at this…" He pants out, his hips thrusting up into his hand. Instead of continuing to trace over his lower abdomen, his hand reaches up to comb through his hair, just like you would, the delightful sensation sending jolts of pleasure directly to his cock. "Too good to me. Want to touch you, too. Whatever you want."

In order to give himself greater room to move around without experiencing any discomfort, he spreads his legs somewhat wider. He inadvertently starts to imagine you in a position between them, your head bobbing up and down as you take him in. His cock throbs at the mere thought, another droplet of precum dripping from its tip. Oh, he's lost it completely.

He listens to you groan quietly, and the realization that his words have the same impact on you as yours do on him makes him feel proud. The sound of your pleasure creates a fuzzy sensation in his head, blocking out all thoughts but you, you, you. His mind creates a fairly realistic image of what you are doing at the moment, even while he is itching to actually see you. And, God, was that picture irresistible.

"I want that too... Want to make you feel good."

Leon slightly squeezes the base of his cock at your whispered wants, another shudder rippling through him. He is acutely aware that he is getting close now, his balls drawing up tight and a growing coil of tension simmering deep in his gut.

"-Shit, I'm so fucking close," he pants heavily, his hips thrusting up into his hand steadily. He imagines you straddling him, riding him with all you have until you are both a gasping, trembling mess. Your hands wrapped snuggly over his neck and your lovely eyes on him the whole way through. The moan that comes out of him at the thought is borderline obscene as his head falls back, hot pleasure coiling in his gut until it's borderline unbearable. He does have enough sense in him left to warn you, though, however clumsy. Or maybe ask for permission. He isn't sure, and he is far too dazed to figure it out. "Jesus, fuck, going to cum-"

"That's alright, let go, I want to hear you," you coo at him softly through shaky puffs of air, a hint of urgency laced in your words. You were obviously getting impatient yourself while listening to him enjoying himself, whether that meant you were getting close or not. Either way, it was hot. "Cum for me, Leon. Please."

He didn't need to be told twice.

It only takes him a couple more rough strokes before he comes to a halt and shudders, his cock spurting ropes of his release into his hand and stomach, a broken gasp of your name leaving his lips in a desperate mantra before the pleasure slowly subsides. He's left panting, catching his breath from the pleasurable high of his orgasm as he plops back down on the bed, letting his body relax and gather its bearings.

"Jesus Christ, that was... wow..." He exhales, his voice ragged. As his mind gradually clears from the haze of pleasure that clouded his senses moments prior, he laughs softly, his voice full of tiredness and a hint of sheepishness. He turns his head to the phone, almost like he'd see you there. "You okay? Did you...?"

...He didn't even check if you came or not. Now he kind of feels like an ass.

"Y-Yeah. Just now." Because of your stuttering breaths, your words are a little unsteady. Whether you came with him or moments after, he doesn't really care. He's just glad you were left satisfied, too. Somewhat. Really, this was still more about him than you. He should fix that next time you do this.

He lets out a soft and warm chuckle at the thought. Next time. He was already thinking of next time, huh? Either way, that familiar subtle tremor in your voice makes him smile to himself, wishing he could reach out and stroke your cheek with the back of his hand right now.

"Good. I'm... I'm glad. Got worried there for a sec." He reaches over and grabs a tissue off his nightstand to quickly clean himself up. After tossing the tissue away, he leans back against the bed, feeling completely relaxed. "That was... something. Definitely needed that. Thank you."

A pleasant sense of calm washes over him as he sighs, closing his eyes. The subtle ache in his muscles and post-organasmic bliss is a welcome contrast to the constant tension he was dealing with lately.

"Happy to hear that." While he's unable to see you, he can still hear the smile in your voice, which makes him smile in turn. You take a deep, steadying breath, some rustling following suit as you probably clean yourself up and get comfortable. He didn't prod you. It didn't feel awkward at all when you were on the line with him. Despite his wish for you to actually be here.

"...I can't wait to see you again. To actually hold you, kiss you, make up for lost time," he promises, his voice unusually soft and intimate. "Tell you what, once I get back, we'll spend a whole weekend in bed, just the two of us. No phones, no work, no distractions. Just us."

His wistful smile is accompanied by the image of you in his bed, warm and cozy as you nuzzle up to him. God knows he didn't need anything more to be happy.

"That sounds lovely. I might just hold you to that," you giggle, those same familiar playful notes making their appearance again as you both come down from your highs.

"Hey... Do you mind staying with me on the line tonight? I don't... really want to hang up," he confesses, a bit embarrassed, but unwilling to just part with you so quickly. He can't help but feel a bit clingy.

"Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing."

He laughs at that, shaking his head.

"God, I love you."

"I love you more."

[sseulforgii]

stay a little longer

Kim Minjeong x Reader

a/n: I just have Rosé’s album on repeat and I can’t get this out of my head. I'm sorry, I know it's Christmas 😭

thank you @rd0265667 and @seullovesme for going over this first. mwa!

Minjeong woke up from a fitful sleep. It's been days since she's been like this, a heavy pit in her stomach whenever she wakes up. She looks over to where you are sleeping turned away from her. You were in the same bed and yet you seem so far away from each other. With a heavy sigh she got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

Unbeknownst to Minjeong, you have been awake too. In fact, you haven't slept for days since you felt something shift in your relationship but you kept it all to yourself. You found yourself just watching her sleep sometimes seeing how peaceful she is and you wish nothing more for her to always have that kind of peace even as you swallow a lump forming in your throat and tears forming in your eyes. You made yourself smaller on your side of the bed when you felt her move and pretended to sleep. It was easier that way. You didn't wanna see her pretend to be okay this early in the morning, as much as you can, you'd give her space.

When Minjeong was dressed and ready to go, she stood by the door of your bedroom looking at you curled up on the bed. She doesn't know how to feel or what to do so she just looked at you for a little while more before eventually deciding to go near you.

You heard her footsteps coming and you were surprised but tried to breathe evenly. You didn't want to move 'cause you didn't wanna startle her and lose a brief moment you might share.

Minjeong crouched down in front of you and traced your cheek with her finger. She smiled a little, your cheeks were still her favorite to pinch and poke after all. She contemplated on kissing your forehead but decided against it in case you suddenly wake up. She was in no state to see your sleepy brown eyes staring back at her. So she got up and looked at you one last time before leaving.

You were holding your breathe the whole time as well as the tears that's starting to form in your eyes. You wished so bad that she would either stop or just kiss you and shower you with affection. But you felt her move and heard her receding footsteps. When the door finally closed, you felt your tears flowing. You were catching your breath by the time you realized you were crying and you didn't know how to stop.

Minjeong was trying her best to act normal around you. She really wanted this to work out, but somewhere down the road she fell out of love. She feels so guilty about it and she tries her hardest to keep you happy and not let you know anything's wrong. She's thinking she'll be able to keep it up long enough for her to go back to how she feels for you. After all, she was the one who wanted you first so why does it feel like this now for her? And she can tell that you love her still with every smile and every affection thrown at her, and yet she feels like you're holding yourself back at times. It makes her wonder if you can feel it too - that subtle shift somewhere.

You and Minjeong weren't always like this. You're such a goofy pair - a perfect match as your friends say. You were both so smart and share almost the same likes. You always loved how witty and creative Minjeong is. Minjeong adores how sweet and kind you are. While Minjeong is quiet at times, you are bustling with energy and talks a lot and she listens to you with so much adoration in her eyes that you tend to shy away at times or get conscious about it. But she always assures you that she loves it. Both of you balance each other out that way.

Recently, you often get conscious about talking too much when you spend time with her, that you tend shy away and just sit quietly at dinner or when watching a movie with her. Only this time, there's only guilt in Minjeong's eyes that she's trying so hard to hide from you. Now you're both walking on a tightrope trying your hardest not to let each other fall off.

You were both trying. Minjeong, so clueless of what you are feeling, thinks she can still salvage what's left of your relationship. You, on the other hand, are just barely keeping it together although you know it's probably time to let her go.

So you made up your mind. You planned a perfect weekend together, which surprised Minjeong but she went along with it thinking maybe this is a good thing for the both of you. While in your mind, you're already pleading that this will make her stay with you longer, even though you know it is a battle you already lost.

You cooked all her favorite food, watched her favorite movie, talked about her work, and played lots of games. It was fun for the both of you. You were both genuinely smiling and laughing, but you can see the sadness behind it. You can sense how bittersweet the day was as it came to an end.

You smiled at Minjeong and took her hand as you guided her outside the balcony to look at the night sky. She was looking at you, you can feel it. You sighed and looked at her as you hold back tears. "Thank you for such a wonderful day, Minjeong." You say as you rub circles on the back of her hand. A nervous habit you sort of picked up when you're trying to soothe both her and yourself. She smiles at you, "of course. I had fun today."

You take a shaky breath and look out the horizon. "Minjeong, can I ask you something?" Her brows furrowed as she squeezed your hand. "Of course, baby. What is it?" She asks, and you almost melt as your tears start to well up when you heard her call you baby. You stumble over your words, trying to form a coherent thought. Minjeong looks over at you worriedly and squeezes your hand once more.

“I don’t know how to form it into words,” you confess. Minjeong tries her best to soothe you, “it’s okay, baby. Just try and I’ll understand.” You look at her and you see worry and guilt swimming in her eyes. It was all the push that you needed to finally let her go.

“Minjeongie, are you…” you choked back a sob and looked elsewhere before continuing. “Are you happy?” It was followed by complete and utter silence. You were scared to look over at her and so you continue after taking a huge breath. “Do you still want this? Us? Because honestly, Minjeong, you can tell me if this is no longer what you want. I’d rather lose you than see you so unhappy.”

You closed your eyes for a bit and steadied your breathing before risking a peak at the girl beside you. She was looking ahead with such somber eyes that it broke your heart further and cemented the thought that this was the right thing to do. “Have you been feeling that way for a long time now?” She softly asked. You owed her the truth no matter how much you wanna sugar coat everything. “Yeah, for a while now,” you replied just as quietly - afraid that if you say it louder it will become more true.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. You shake your head smiling at her although you’re in the brink of breaking down. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I’m sorry. I knew for a while now and I still held on. I wanted you to stay a little longer, but each passing day I feel I’m being more of a burden than a rest for you and I don’t want that.” Minjeong held on to you tighter, trying to convey her feelings as she knows she won’t be able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again and you close your eyes as you feel her pull you in for a hug. You savor the moment, for you know this is all you have left. So with the last bit of your strength, you enveloped her tighter and you stayed this way for a little bit longer before you catch your breath and let her go.

[you-know-honey]

omggg i see you are taking viktor x reader requests and i am in desperate need of something relatively cute and fluffy after act 3 🥲

i’ve had this idea for ages where once viktor and the reader starts dating, viktor just generally starts being healthier and a little better? even though his leg is still the same he is stronger and in less pain (he really deserves this come onnn).because he is totally smitten by the reader he is spending loads of time with them which ends up to him getting more rest, eating better, etc. the reader maybe does subtle things to encourage that but in some ways it happens naturally. (although i’ve seen some scenarios where the reader helps viktor with massages/physio and that is so wholesome too)

maybe he is talking to the reader after some months of dating, sharing how he feels better in his body and how he wants to actively try to be better? like, before his work was his whole life and he had kinda given up on his health - he just wanted to make the most progress in whatever time he had. but now he wants to spend the rest of his life with the reader and is willing to fight for it (and come on that will also help him work more anyway)

thought it was a cute idea and i love your work so i’d love to see your take on this!!! ❤️

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5K

2/2→→→

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

The cold of the early morning began to creep in through the window, giving your body chills from head to toe. You didn't want to wake up, you felt like you had barely slept a second after so much work.

You couldn't get anything more than a superficial sleep that ended even with the walking of an ant on your neighbor's floor. The bed felt too big for some reason and there was no pillow to hug that didn't make you feel terribly alone. You sighed, knowing it would be another long night, you went down to the kitchen to get some tea to sleep, if getting high was the only way to fall asleep so be it. While you watched the steam come out of your cup you leaned against the wall of the hallway, looking at your empty room. You couldn't help but let your imagination fly to a corner where you didn't want it to be, the darkness emulated with the shadows a sleeping figure on one side of the bed and your mind quickly gave it shape and name...Viktor.

NO.

You shook your head to get that image out of your mind, being in love with your boss was already a silly thing, you shouldn't even think about something like that. But... you couldn't help it, you liked to imagine him around the apartment, like your own homely fantasy.

The violent knocking from the other side of the front door brought you out of your little daydream. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, it wasn't time for visitors.

“Y/N!” Sky’s voice called from the other side of the door, she seemed agitated and in total panic.

You quickly rushed to open the door, finding your friend and coworker in tears and as pale as a sheet of paper.

“Sky? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You rushed to take her inside and sit her on the couch as she tried to catch her breath.

“It’s Viktor, he’s in the hospital, he fainted and… and he started bleeding! He won’t wake up!”

Sky said something else, but your mind refused to continue listening. You could feel your entire body turning into glass and shattering, your heart had stopped suddenly before beating desperately again.

That night was the worst night of your life. You don’t remember what happened exactly, you just remember dressing up in one of your long work jackets to hide your pajamas, not even bothering to put on shoes, arriving at the hospital and searching every room in desperation only to find him intubated and still unconscious on a stretcher, he looked so pale, so feverish, his hands were cold and stiff as a stone, his hair was wet with sweat and the nurses hadn’t cleaned the stain of dried blood that spread across his cheek and lips like a crimson river. You don’t know how long you cried that night. You only remember clinging to his body until the nurses basically ripped you from his side. It was the first time you truly thought you would lose him, the first time you saw what his illness could do to him.

Time passed, a lot of time indeed. Viktor had a long recovery process after such a hard relapse and was prescribed, in his opinion, the worst of medications. Rest. Instructions that he clearly hadn't intended to follow, but you didn't think the same. He didn't know when or how but you simply kicked the chained door of his heart and like a spoiled child you refused to leave. But he liked it that way. During his long stay in the hospital he hadn't stopped working and the doctors were really considering tying him to the bed, like a guardian angel there you were, reading his books for him and writing in his notebook by the side of his stretcher, making sure he took his medications and vitamins until he was ready to get back in the ring. So, gods! It would have been impossible not to fall in love with you.

You made him feel alive, seeing you filled his face with color, he couldn't help but smile and ignore everything that wasn't you, he loved being able to hold your hand, he delighted in the dropped jaws that left when they walked together through the academy. His mind was an unstoppable machine of chaos that only found peace when you were near.

How did he get to that point? He never imagined that someone like him, with his proud attitude and busy mind could attract the attention of someone like you. You... you simply shined. Everything about you seems so simple, so natural. Your laugh, your words, even the way you look at him as he always wanted to be seen, as something more than a man with a cane and too many ideas in his head.

He couldn't help but wonder what you saw in him. Is it his mind that interests you? Or did you just see something he couldn't see in the mirror? Maybe, just maybe, you've seen beyond the walls he built around himself. Beyond the weight of his ambitions.

And yet, for the first time, he feared something more than failure. He doesn't want to lose you.

When he's with you, when his hands touch yours, when you smile after one of his sarcastic comments, everything seems to fit together. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he's not a stranger in his own skin. He feels like, maybe, there's something more to him than just work.

You give him something he can't explain, something that isn't in any formula or prototype. Maybe, for once in his life, it's enough to just feel.

…Wow, he was a genius in love.

Months Later...

The sound of the lab door slamming open loudly caught Jayce's attention as he stretched out in his chair. They had been working all morning.

You walked in with a tray of breakfast and books under your arm.

“You need to grease that door,” you said, as you walked over to his desk. Jayce held the books you asked for and took one of the steaming cups on the tray.

“I'll write it down,” Jayce said, burying his face in the cup, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He looked really exhausted. They would have a conference soon and they had to be prepared, even you and Sky had a lot of work to do.

“Have he eaten anything today?” you asked, nodding at the one you can now proudly call your partner, sitting across the lab without even noticing your presence.

“What do you think?” You sighed, it's common for your boyfriend to forget to eat, if breathing wasn't essential you're sure he would forget too.

“Viktor…” you exclaim as you walk up to his desk, his posture in front of it is terrible, a shrimp would be proud of his posture.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, he mutters things as usual while he quickly writes down in his notebook and fiddles around a bit with a design that releases sparks and steam. You can see the inner mechanism, it’s so complex that it makes your head hurt just thinking about having to fix it like he does. There’s something about that stoic concentration he has that really attracts you, you could watch him work all day. You place the tray in one of your hands, balancing it so as not to spill anything and you use the fingers of your free hand to lightly tickle Viktor’s neck, he quickly adjusts his posture, you’re sure you could hear a joint or two creak, letting out a half-gasp. Which you take advantage of by uncovering the delicious breakfast on the tray.

You know he smiles and his gaze softens when the smell of food reaches him, he stops his work and looks at you.

“Good morning” you murmur only for his ears.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, turning his chair to face you, letting go of his design so easily that even Jayce couldn’t believe it.

“Can’t I take care of my favorite genius?” You shrug, leaving the tray with breakfast on the small mound of leaves on his desk. Changing his empty cup of coffee for a cup of hot tea.

Viktor smiles barely, but there’s something warm in his gaze as he takes the first sip of tea. You’re surprised when he stands up without even making a move to look for his cane, only using his good leg for help. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, you can feel his breath so close that it makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He’s been working since before the sun came up, it’s something you can’t change about him, but seeing you is a huge relief that he doesn’t know he needs until he has you in front of him and can’t help but put everything aside for you. His hands slide under your arms until they grip your back, wrinkling your perfectly ironed shirt and you can feel him finally sigh and let his shoulders slump as if he were carrying lead on them.

That gesture is all he needs to tell you, he is not a man of words and even less so when Jayce is present because he knows that Jayce will use everything he says against him as soon as you walk out the door. He can feel you, the heat emanating from your body makes him feel warm, breathing your perfume is the breeze of fresh air he needs to keep going. If they were alone he would probably kiss you, it is the only motivation he has to make it to the end of the day.

“What? He is your favorite genius? Y/N how do you break my heart like that” Jayce dramatizes from the other side of the room with a huge smile on his face. He loves watching how Viktor basically melts for you but he can’t help but feel like a bad third between the two of you.

You can't help but giggle at the comment. “There's enough room in my heart for both of us.”

Viktor gives a small shake of his head and snorts at your shoulder, it's obvious that he doesn't like the idea.

“Will you have breakfast with me?” he asks as he pulls away from you and drops his weight back into the chair.

You've both had this habit since the hospital, when he barely had the strength to blink and refused to be fed with a g-tube. It was a hard blow to his pride that you had to feed him, but you handled the situation with a lot of respect, and at the end of the day you both always ended up eating all your meals together, it was a moment that you both could enjoy and secretly for you it was a way to make sure he gets something more than caffeine.

You sighed and shook your head. “Not this time.” The look he gave you was as painful as that of a newly abandoned puppy.

“Why not?” he asked, making a colorful gesture with his hands, quite offended.

“Sky and I are still clearing their schedules and getting everything ready for this afternoon’s conference.” You felt guilty and even more so when he gave you that look but if you lied to him it would only make his mind wander to very dark places. “I promise we’ll have dinner together. Will you forgive me this time?” you said, caressing his cheek subtly.

Schedules were something Viktor had very established, something out of that routine irritated him in ways he didn’t understand. Normally and if you were anyone else he would have pushed your hand away and ignored you for the rest of the day but… you weren’t just anyone, he couldn’t get mad at you, he couldn’t even think of a reason that was strong enough to not even look at you with annoyance.

“Just don’t miss it” He replied, enjoying your touch. Forcing you to stay on his cheek a little more for taking your wrist, when it was time for you to leave it was very difficult to let you go.

“Don't forget to take a break, Sabre, if you didn't have lunch.” You walked through the door, giving him one last look before leaving him back in the lab.

“Love is so beautiful,” Jayce mentioned, sighing like a teenager while humming the sound of the newlywed bells.

Viktor rolled his eyes and went back to his table to find his breakfast. The idea of putting it aside and continuing to work crossed his mind, it was what he used to do in the past. Before letting that idea take hold, he stuck his fork in the bacon next to the small bowl of fruit and quickly brought it to his mouth. His taste buds wept with excitement at finally receiving some food after so many hours drowned in coffee, even the breath itself with a certain guilty pleasure. “Shut up, Jayce,” was the only thing he could say before devouring the plate.

“Are you ready? We’re going to be late,” Viktor mentioned, leaning against the outside wall of the lab’s bathroom, with a hanger holding his suit in his hand.

He had been waiting for more than 45 minutes for his lab partner to finish showering and getting dressed. He used to skip all the conferences, especially if they were with the council. It irritated him how certain people with more than limited intellect could have power over his work and what he could and couldn’t do with it. The only reason he started attending was because you were there, both of them could whisper to each other continuously and have a good time being gossips about the other councilors, although of course, there were also times when Jayce called him to the front, when a more raw opinion was needed, without all the flourishes that surrounded Jayce’s speeches.

“Just a second,” Jayce said as he opened the door, in his white and gold suit he finished fixing his hair in the middle of a cloud of masculine perfume.

Viktor just rolled his eyes and made his way into the bathroom, leaving his suit on the rack behind the door, sitting on the closed toilet to wait for Jayce to leave.

“Hurry up,” he said when he saw Jayce smiling at himself in the mirror.

“Someone looks pretty excited to go…” He hummed, “I thought you said conferences were a waste of your precious time…”

“Jayce…” Viktor said in a tone that Jayce understood as a warning accompanied by a stern frown, but the shy blush that crossed his cheeks and the bridge of his nose told him he was right.

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with saying you like going because your girlfriend is there. If Councilwoman Medarda wasn’t there I wouldn’t want to go either.” Jayce leaned back against the sink. Although it wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment to have a talk.

Girlfriend… Viktor still felt chills when that word was mentioned, he himself wasn’t able to say it yet, it always got stuck in his throat and he blushed like never before, he felt shy just knowing that the one who carried that title was you. When they started dating he was nothing more than a rigid bundle of nerves, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing you or just walking by your side were things he got used to with difficulty, as if he were walking on thin ice, looking for a single rejection reaction from you that would confirm to his anxiety that he had made a false step and should return within his fortified comfort zone. It doesn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy doing those things with you, he did, he loved them, but a part of himself always whispered to him that he didn’t deserve it, that he hadn’t been born for love and that he looked ridiculous pretending he wasn’t like that. It was hard to fight against it, but you never gave up, you knew how to read him like the back of your hand and you knew when he needed time alone and when he needed to melt into you in affection. Now it was clearer than ever that if there was someone who could love him and who he could love back, it was you. Only you.

“Y/N and I know how to separate work from our relationship, our… dating” he savored the words with pride “it doesn’t influence my work.” He couldn’t help but smile silly “Although I admit that her company is always welcome”

Jayce excitedly crossed his arms at his friend and colleague's terrible way of hiding how totally in love he was with you. "Really?" he said raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "So I guess what you've been building for her is part of the 'job'..."

Although Jayce was a little naive he wasn't stupid, of course he had noticed how revitalized Viktor was since he started dating you, he could hardly remember the irritated Viktor who lived all the time in the lab. The night of his relapse he had gone to his mother's house for his birthday, if it weren't for Sky and you he would never have found out what happened and he would never be able to finish thanking you for taking care of him with such love. Jayce knew with total certainty that Viktor was more in love with you than he could ever admit to others or to himself.

“…It’s a gift for her.” There was something of amazement in his words, as if he had never imagined himself saying it. “I read that couples usually give each other gifts sporadically, without reason… I want to do something that does justice to everything she does for me.” He answered as if it were the most logical thing in the world, trying to regain his composure.

“Tell me what it is?” Jayce asked interested, his eyes big like a little boy’s excited to receive a lollipop after the dentist.

“No.” Viktor refused flatly. “I know you, it will come out of your mouth in a some moment.” Jayce felt offended, even more so because it was not a lie.

“But! Come on Victor!” He tried to convince him but the answer was still a constant negative. “Boring.” He sighed giving up. “I’ll wait for you outside, Mr. Romantic.” Jayce managed to escape from the bathroom before Viktor’s sharpness reached him and he walked away laughing.

Viktor sighed when he finally managed to be alone in the bathroom, he put his cane aside, using the sink to support himself and stand up, his leg gave him a small cramp that was reflected on his face and it took him a second to recover and start preparing.

The conference was nothing out of the ordinary, brutally exhausting as always, you felt your feet unbearably tired, avoiding Salo's venomous comments were not for everyone. You should be given a prize for enduring such a thing, you knew that it didn't really matter much to present each project in a thorough manner before the council but according to Councilwoman Medarda, that would make Hextech more trustworthy, being transparent with the creations left no room for doubts or misunderstandings. But that only meant more work for you and Sky, emptying Jayce and Viktor's agendas, planning their speeches and even elaborating the thread of the entire conference, it was definitely the only part you hated about being an attendee.

Jayce had stayed to 'discuss' some matters with Councilwoman Medarda and Sky had taken the first opportunity that presented itself to leave as quickly as he could. That left you and Viktor alone in the hallway heading to the lab for your coats, autumn was already upon the city and the cold was more usual and stronger.

“Is something wrong?” you asked as you saw Viktor’s jaw muttering things to himself, his gaze looking a little lost as you approached the lab.

“Oh, no… I have some things to tidy up in the lab that’s all” He answered trying to lighten the mood. Clearly forgetting that you knew there was nothing to tidy up because… come on… that was your job.

“Can I help you with that?” You said with some disbelief as you reached the door, it was clear from your tone that you didn’t quite believe him.

“No, it’s not necessary. Could you wait for me outside?” Viktor asked, looking a bit nervous, even serious.

“From the door?” you asked, crossing your arms as Viktor left his hand on the door handle. You had never seen him so nervous trying to hide something, especially from you.

“From the academy…” I knew the answer, obviously you would say no.

You sighed heavily, it was late at night and your brain was tired “Viktor if this is a ruse to keep working...”

“No, it’s not that” he interrupted you quickly, his hand moved away from the door handle as if it were a hot iron just to take yours “It will be quick I promise” and there it was, that lazy smile and that sweet look that could convince you to do anything without hesitation, he using his thumb to draw soft circles on the back of your hand. He slowly leaned down to your ear to whisper “I can’t wait to go home with you, this will just be a… slight setback. I won’t take long, I promise.”

The words got stuck in your throat and in your belly millions of butterflies were released and fluttered everywhere, the blush was quick to rise to your cheeks “Fine… But... Don’t take long, okay?”

That act had taken you by complete surprise, but he seemed quite pleased with the way he had completely altered the chemistry inside your brain and he knew it, of course he knew it, behind that look you were sure he was proud of his little misdeed.

Viktor left a small kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the lab. A shiver ran down your spine to help you come back to yourself. The last thing Viktor heard from you was the clicking of your heels at the end of the hallway.

“She didn’t believe it at all,” he said to himself as he leaned back against the door, taking a minute to compose himself, running one of his hands through his hair as if that would work. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and his brain was still fluttering with your blushing image. What he had done had been a risky act but it felt so good to do it… Viktor shook his head, getting those thoughts out of his mind.

The lab was empty, it felt cold and that didn’t help his leg at all. Holding on to his cane he walked towards his desk, in one of the drawers, the one most full of failed prototypes, the only one you never dared to clean, in the back, wrapped in a somewhat singed piece of curtain, he found what he was looking for. A velvety box, upon opening it he was greeted by the intense glow of a Hextech gem much smaller than the rest, he had worked on it for quite some time, it wasn't the gift itself, but it was the eternal battery that would keep it running, it had already been quite a challenge to get the crystals to stabilize at their original size, he had lost count of how many times he could have died while making it. He quickly closed the box and carefully put it away in his bag, losing it would be a huge disaster. He had kept the rest of your gift in a safe place at home.

Viktor took a moment to look at his desk, years ago doing what he was doing now would have seemed ridiculous and a waste of time. Now there was nothing else he wanted to spend his time on. His hand slid across his desk, feeling papers and the leather of his notebooks under his fingers. His hands wandered until they entered between the swollen pages of one of his old notebooks, opening it he felt a little embarrassed by the content.

The pages were filled with notes and sketches of designs, as the pages turned one had established itself among the others. All around it was filled with details about you, your favorite color, your favorite scent, your favorite sound. Such sweet descriptions of your laugh, your hair… of your essence, there were even small drawings of your face and your unmistakable look, motivating him to continue. There were dates and small appointments that his mind read with your voice while he smiled.

“I really hope you like it…” He sigh longingly.

You hugged your bare arms as you hopped from foot to foot to keep warm, the dress you were wearing worked inside the heated academy but now that you were outside you were freezing, every hair on your body standing on end.

“What are you doing Viktor?” You said into the air.

Since the conference had been a huge success you both had planned to go to his house to hang out. Although well, it wasn’t long before it was your house too, after all half of your closet was in his and you even had matching coffee mugs in his kitchen. Still you didn’t want to push Viktor at all. It had already been a bit difficult for you to get him to dare kiss your cheek in public without making it look like you had a gun on his back.

You panted into your hands, your breath bringing some heat to your fingers that were starting to get cold as an iceberg.

Something brushed against your back, a sudden touch that made you turn around instinctively, almost unnaturally, only to find yourself facing Viktor, who was blinking in surprise at your reaction. His hands were outstretched, holding your coat.

“What were you trying to do?” you ask, your tone more accusatory than you’d like, as you try to calm your racing heart.

“Put your coat on, maybe?” he replies, his tone matching yours, but a sly smile playing on his lips. It’s obvious that your startlement amuses him. “Here, let me put it on you. You’re going to freeze.”

You sigh to release the tension in your body and turn your back to him. You feel his cold hands touch your neck, drawing a gasp from you that you instantly suppress, determined not to give him any more reasons to mock you. There's something about his gesture, the way he gently places the coat over your shoulders and guides your wrists into the sleeves, that disarms you.

When he's done, he gently turns you around to close the buttons, fastening them one by one, while his fingers brush your hair away from the coat. It's a simple gesture, but he does it with such care that you melt a little. Crowning the moment, he puts your bag over your head and lets it rest on your shoulder with elegance.

Your eyes watch him with a tenderness that seems to stop time. Viktor notices it; his hand slides from the strap of your bag to your cheek, caressing it with cautious delicacy before removing it, leaving a cold sensation behind.

A laugh escapes your lips, soft and sweet, filling the frozen air with a warmth that seeps into his bones. He smiles with you.

You take a step closer to him, not expecting it, you see him seek support from his cane, the only thing that stands between him and you really.

His scent envelops you instantly: coffee and honey. It’s such a unique combination that you could identify it among millions.

“Your nose is red,” you comment, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You can see how his eyes widen at the proximity and your close touch to his face makes the tip of his ears red, his gaze avoids yours nervously.

You barely finish and without waiting for an answer, he began to walk down the stairs of the academy. Leaving you upstairs with a satisfied smile, he seems quite in a hurry to get home.

The icy wind of Piltover forces you to get a little closer to Viktor when you manage to catch up with him while crossing the street. His steps are long and determined, he has barely taken a break since you started walking.

“Why are you so nervous?” you ask, breaking the silence. Normally he takes one or two breaks along the way, excusing himself by looking at the shop windows that you know he has little interest in.

“Nervous? Me?” Viktor arches an eyebrow and looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his tone has a doubtful tone.

“Yeah, even when you’re making fun of me,” you retort, remembering the coat incident earlier. “You seem to have your mind somewhere else.”

He lets out a short, almost dry laugh. “It’s not like that, just, you know… Someone has to keep the calm.”

“Someone? You mean you?”

“Of course. If you’re too busy freaking out over coats.” Viktor looks at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, “someone has to take charge of looking professional.”

You frown, though you can’t hide the smile that threatens to appear. “If you put it that way it’s okay, I like you like that.” Is it dirty play? Yes, but it’s worth it when you see Viktor’s face.

Heat rises to his cheeks before he can stop it, but he hides it by burying his face deeper into his scarf. You’ve beaten him this time, but like any sore loser, he won’t let things go.

He stops walking abruptly, his body hunched over his knee.

Your triumphant expression leaves your face completely and you don't hesitate to approach him, worried. The weather was cold and that used to increase the pain in his leg, but you didn't expect it to be so strong as to double him over in pain.

“Does it hurt?” you asked somewhat worried, your hand on his back ready to help him stand up if necessary. “Not at all.” He turned his face only to be met with a proud and victorious smile.

The streets are empty, and the shops are beginning to close, Viktor resumes his straight posture while looking from side to side as if he wanted no one to see his next move, you follow his gaze, not quite knowing what to look at or what to look for. You feel the cold handle of his cane touch your chin gently and guide it to make you look up, towards him. He approaches cautiously and you know his pulse is shaking a little from the way the handle of his cane shakes, finally he presses his lips against yours, with an overwhelming softness that at another time would have made you draw him closer, but like all good things, it didn’t last long. The sound of a metal shutter being loudly lowered pushes him away from you like a scared cat before you can properly reciprocate. He tries to compose himself but the blush on his cheeks and the nervous movement of his eyes give him away; even someone as controlled as Viktor isn’t immune to nervousness.

You laugh, like a little child, savoring his kiss at the same time. Giving affection in public is a huge leap of faith for him and you know it, you melt every time he does it.

“Don’t look at me with that eyes.” he says avoiding your gaze, a shy smile forming on his mouth and refusing to disappear no matter how hard he tries.

“What eyes?” You ask, feigning innocence at the subject, searching for his free hand with yours to take it and not let it go.

His eyes meet yours, his pupils dilate quickly like drops of paint in water. That's one of the things you like about him, no matter when he tries to hide his feelings, you know exactly that his gaze will always give you the answer.

“Forgotten” he snorts trying to lighten the subject. This time offering you his arm to walk together.

Both of you walk in silence, just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the way, you look at the shops, some are closing, others still have warm lights on inside and a few people looking through the windows. People from Piltover don't usually go out at night, maybe because for them there isn't much interesting to see when the sun goes down. But you and Viktor are from Zaun, you reject the sun like hermit vampires and the night is the perfect time to go out and to let out certain romantic gestures as you already taste before.

Continue...

[bjorkshire-pudding]

Ok ok ok so

Sorry to dissertate on your post op but I need to talk about this.

In all my rereads of the manga and this arc being in my mind over the years, I never, ever connected the dots, not until this arc was animated.

Jugram's uncle was abusing him. Those marks on his arm that just looked like scratches in the manga? A lot clearer in the anime as bruises.

The way he physically curls in on himself when Bazz calls him Jugo and says, "Please don't call me that, I don't like it", and the way we see in the scene immediately following it that his drunk uncle calls him "my precious Jugo" and says "you know I can't do anything without you"... and the way Jugram further curls in on himself and cringes?

The way, when Yhwach destroys the village and burns down both boys' family homes, Bazz is angry about it, but Jugram is totally indifferent about the fact that his uncle died in the fire?

None of that even clicked in my mind until just recently, when this episode in the anime aired.

We don't know if it was just violence or if it was also sexual abuse/violence, but either way, his only relative, who was tasked with taking care of him and should have been protecting him, was mistreating him in a horrible way.

I would always say to myself, "Why is Jugram so loyal to this dude who basically destroyed his life?" But to Jugram, Yhwach was not the enemy. He was his savior. He rescued him from his uncle and an awful situation.

What makes my heart hurt even more is that Bazz probably didn't realize what was going on either, or maybe he knew something was wrong but just didn't catch the gravity of it. So maybe he thought the same way I did - "why are you loyal to this dude who ruined our lives?"

This scene... this scene now is so much more heartbreaking than it was when I read it the first time years ago.

"I thought I'd feel much worse...losing to you..."

BLEACH: THE BLOOD WARFARE (COUR 3) EP. 12: Friend

[papurgaatika]

Keep A Leftover Light Burning

Pairing: joel miller x Ceramicist! reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORKS PLEASE !!

A/N: howdy howdy and welcome all now this is a very special fic for @burntheedges for the @pedrostories secret santa event!! I hope you like it and find it as fun as i did. I think this isnt a trope that we see very often, but after a healthy dose of tiktoks (and watching the scene from ghost again) this came into being. As always thank you to my beloveeeeeeed @carlynkurin for beta reading, and peace and love on the planet earth from me, xoxo Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! tags: Ceramicist reader, smut, porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), publicish sex, strangers to lovers, lots of wet clay, joels arms require their own tag Word count: 3.4k Summary: Sarah forces joel to go take a day to himself, pushing him in the direction of your pottery studio. Despite calling yourself professional and priding yourself on your morals, you can’t help but… fantasize about the man in front of you. 

Joel needs to take time for himself. He’s always on, always ready to go at the flip of a switch,  never taking time to sit and breathe. Everyone knows how hard he works, and despite what he says, Sarah knows that he needs to do something calming. Something that doesn’t involve carving wood or going to the shooting range with Tommy on the off chance that both of them are free for long enough. So being the perfect daughter that she is, she enrolls him in a ceramics workshop that she had gone to once. It was a small studio, tucked away next to the Palace Theatre in downtown Georgetown, soft and quaint in the suburbs, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Sarah managed to get a hold of you over the phone and explain the situation, a smile threatening to creep onto your cheeks at the sheer amount of care she had for her father. You tell her not to worry about the price and that you would stay open for an extra hour next weekend just to get him in, a squeal on the other side is all the confirmation you need as you pencil it into your schedule. 

Sunday rolls around and Joel… Well, he was being Joel. Stubborn and groaning as Sarah essentially pushes him out the door to make the drive up IH-35, complaining about “I build things for a living,” and “it’ll be a waste of time.” but Sarah is hearing none of it and one look from her has Joel slipping on his boots. In any other circumstance, he would have praised her for holding her ground, but right now he just sighs and gets into his truck realizing just how much of his stubbornness had rubbed off on her. 

He ends up at the studio just before 5, the sun starting to dip under the horizon, casting beautiful pinks and oranges around the sky. He’s still bitching and moaning as he makes his way to the building, taking a deep breath as he steps inside. You barely even hear the jingle of the little bell above your door, too busy fighting with your sink: now clogged with clay from your last class with 3 kids under ten who didn't understand that when you told them not to dump clay inside the sink. You had meant it. “Fucking thing!” you groan, poking a paintbrush into the drain, hoping to get enough clay out of it so that it would run again. 

Joel stares at you, half confused and half amused with the scene in front of him; your hair a mess, your apron covered in clay and paint, hacking into your sink in ways that he knows won't do you any good. He clears his throat after watching you struggle for about 30 seconds, stifling a smirk when you jump and look back at him. “Need some help? I’m s’possed to have a class now- my daughter-” he shakes his head at the idea of sharing the whole story again “Did I get the wrong time?” 

You look absolutely mortified, dropping the paintbrush in the basin and giving the man in front of you a weak smile “No! No, I just got a little... occupied… you’re on time” You wipe your hands on the front of your apron, not even bothering to attempt to fix your hair, before walking over to greet him. Properly this time. “You must be Joel. Your daughter was very persuasive on the phone.” 

Joel’s smirk shifts into a full-blown smile at the mention of Sarah, the pride he has for the girl shining through. “Yeah, she’s a good one.” he praises. Despite his reluctance to listen to her advice, he knows just how good her heart is, and how much she cares about him. I “Ain't sure what she told ya, and to be honest she hasn't told me what I'm s’possed to be doing here either”

You can't help but smile at his words, the pure adoration for his daughter combined with the slight nervousness in his voice was endearing in ways you weren’t sure how to describe. “No worries, I promise it isn’t anything scary.” You glance around the studio. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, the soft lighting of the different lamps inside the building casting the both of you in a warm glow. The glaze on the ceramics you had on display was a wide assortment of colors: intricately painted motifs, bright splashes of colors, silly cartoons, almost anything you could think of. You pick up a faded apron and hand it to him, watching him stretch as he puts it on. A brief flicker of guilt passes through you as you ogle him, but then you see the way his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt and the guilt gives way to something primitive. 

He turns back around and you look away with a cough, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks when he raises his brows at you. “Right um-” you stumble over your words, more unrefined than you would have liked to be “Sorry, sorry. We’ll start with choosing what you’ll want to make. I always recommend something easy, like a bowl or a spoon rest..” you pick up a pencil cup that had been painted to look like a pencil and a spoon rest that was a simple blue color, to show him “I already have the clay prepped so we can get started straight on th-” 

Joel cuts you off as he glances around the studio, pointing at a lidded cookie jar “That one.” His words leave no room for argument but certainly bring questions up to the surface. “I'm gonna do that one.” You had been making ceramics for years, starting with air-dry clay in school, continuing to use the wheel throughout university, and eventually quitting your day job to start the studio. You knew the skill level it took to make a jar, the precision and technique to keep it balanced, and it just wasn’t a beginner project. 

“I'm sorry, the cookie jar?” You try not to let your voice betray your disbelief. It wasn't that you lacked faith in the man in front of you, you made sure to be confident in all of your clients, it was simply an issue of skill. “I don't know if that’s the one for you to start out with, it’s a little advanced-” 

But Joel was having none of it. If he was going to be forced to sit here and make something to “calm him down” then damn it it was going to be something that takes skill and effort. Something that he could bring home to Sarah and brag about slightly. Was it a little strange that he wanted to one-up his daughter and prove that he didn't need to be here? Maybe a little bit, but he didn't dwell on it. “Yes ma'am.” His voice is set in the decision. “I'm sure it can't be that bad, let me at it.” 

Never one to truly tell people no, you simply nod and get the prepared clay out. It was soft and slippery, staining your hands a taupe color as you brought it to the wheel, plopping it down on the wheel, and pressing down on the sides to make sure it stuck. “Alright, so with the jar..” you gesture for him to take a seat in front of the wheel, moving to stand behind him “It’ll be a little bit more involved than something simple, but you're in good hands I promise.” Your words are soft, and frankly, you were excited. You didn't throw fun projects with clients as much as you’d like to anymore, focusing more on teaching the basics, so this was honestly a welcomed surprise. “We’ll just start with getting the basic shape of it, you’ll take your hands like this, and we’ll work it up.” 

You sit on your stool behind him, usually, you’d be able to reach around and help with hand placement but good god was he broad. You adjust and readjust your position a few times, finding it oddly difficult to find the right mix between comfort and functionality, eventually ending up with your legs spread a little bit past their comfort level, so that you could lean over his shoulder and help him with the shaping. You squeeze some water onto his hands, moving them to cup the base of the clay and pop the wheel to life. His hands were big under your smaller ones, the roughness contrasting both the soft clay and your skin. You can't help but feel a twinge of something stirring inside you as you help him bring the clay up and down, your hands guiding his. Joel’s brows were knit together in concentration, both endearing and attractive as you watched him focus on the clay. The movements of his hands under yours were careful, almost hesitant, his eyes peeking back at you every so often for assurance. 

Once the clay was at an appropriate size you moved your hands off of his, the wheel slowing to a stop. You swear that you see his hands twitch to stay under yours, but your mind might be playing tricks on you. “Now call me unartistic but this ain't really lookin’ like a cookie jar yet.” Joel raises his brows, a slight hint of teasing hidden in his southern drawl, and you can’t help but snort at the comment.

“I will not call you unartistic, it isn't supposed to look like a jar yet.” You hum and wipe your hands on your apron “We’ll do the lid to it later, but you have to actually make it into a bowl first.” your thumbs gently press down onto the center of the clay to form a soft dent. The wheel starts back up again slowly and you start to open the center up a little bit. “Right so now you just gotta take your thumbs like I did and- perfect!” Joel manages to press his fingers slowly against the clay, working it open, and god you wished that was you more than anything at that moment. You press on the sponge, the water dripping down his hand and onto the clay, almost sensually. Your eyes are locked on the way his thumb dips into the clay, the way the clay comes up onto his skin. Your mouth is dry, and you cough as you stand up, needing to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. 

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel's voice rings out from behind you as you move to take a drink of water, and you swear if his voice was just a tinge deeper, you would have choked right then and there. In the rush of getting up, your brain had ceased to realize that moving off the pedal would stop the wheel from turning.

You feel like an idiot. A stupid, hormonal, completely unprofessional idiot. You take a moment to scold yourself mentally before turning around to face him again. “Yeah, yes. Sorry I just realized how thirsty I was, I just needed water.” You move back to your stool behind him, halfway composed, and move to start the next step. If you'd been in front of him for one more second, you would have seen the knowing smile on his face. There was no denying the attraction between the two of you. Pressed up against each other, hands touching, dim light surrounding you both, it was inevitable. You move your hand to show him the right finger position “so you’ll want to take your middle and ring finger-” You press the two of yours inside of the bowl to give him an example and you swear he laughs a little bit. 

“Oh, believe me, darlin” his voice rings out, big fingers expertly finding their way into the exact position. “I know all about this one.” You watch his fingers glide up and down the inside of the bowl, your hand on top of his, steadying his wrist. You bite at your lip, fingers shaking slightly on top of his. Your chest was pressed against his back and you could feel your nipples hardening. You were annoyingly turned on. This wasn’t normal for you, this wasn't something you do, get the hots for a client, but here you were. And with the way Joel's fingers were methodically moving over yours, you were begging that he felt the same way. “Wouldn’t mind showin’ ya all I know about it.” The want in his voice makes you clench subconsciously, your breath faltering for a second. 

You hold your breath for a moment as if trying to make sure you hadn’t imagined his words in a haze of horniness, only to be broken out of that haze when he shifts and pushes his stool back, and turns around to face you. Both of your hands were covered in wet clay and your aprons were messy, neither of which stopped you from pressing your lips against his. You sigh against his mouth as your hand's fist in the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric with readily drying clay. “I don't usually do this,” you murmur when you pull away for air, your lips swollen and red. 

Joel just grins at your words “S’alright, honey,” his lips find their way to your jaw and move down to your neck, his nose nudging at the fabric of your shirt. “Don't gotta explain anything to me.” His voice is like molasses, smooth and syrupy, keeping you stuck on his every word. You let him move you around, the small wooden stools were less than ideal for either of you. In the mess of standing up and finding a table to bend over your shirt comes off and he groans at the sight of you, his hands grabbing at your waist, staining your skin with water. “Good god… sight for sore eyes…” You can't help but flush slightly at his comment, feeling more exposed while you stare at his fully clothed figure.

 Joel picks up on it, his hands moving from your waist to his shirt and apron, a frustrated noise leaving his mouth when the knotted strings keep him from taking it off. “Let me,” you whisper, reaching around to undo the strings, the fabric of the apron sagging and then getting tossed to some other corner of the room. You stare at him. You couldn't not stare at him. At the hair covering his chest leading down to his belt, the soft yet strong features of his body, at his hand undoing his belt. Your own shorts had been removed, your hands moving to reach into his jeans until he stopped you, a pout and protest forming on your lips. 

Joel just shakes his head at you, picking you up and setting you on a relatively clean table, his body wedged between your legs. “My momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he hums against your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts, nudging your nipples with his nose before giving each of them their own kisses “I didn't take ya to dinner, at least let me get my fill yeah?” Your back fully arched into his mouth as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles were white. The feeling of his tongue flicking against the hardened bud had you moaning out in ways you had never imagined you would, and you swear you could feel him smirk even as he licked a stripe down the soft skin of your tummy. 

His knees crack as he settles between your legs and the sight of him is so sinful you can't help but moan softly. He raises his brows at you, a warm chuckle leaving his mouth at the sound, his lips pressing against the inside of one of your thighs “Look that good?” His voice is laced with a gentle mocking as he presses another kiss, a hair's breadth away from your aching cunt “think I got the better view though.” You don't even have the time, nor the brainpower, to reply before his lips press against you, a groan vibrating against your skin as he tastes you. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had… could get damn addicted.” 

Your lips are parted as his tongue swirls around your clit, your whines and moans spurring him on even further. “F-fuck joel-” you manage at some point, his broad shoulders keeping your thighs spread apart, despite how much they’d like to clamp around him. He was good at this and he knows that, moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, the words giving him a newfound energy. You feel his warm palms against your thighs keeping you spread open for him, and you almost whine when his tongue leaves your clit, only to cry out in ecstasy when his tongue prods at your pulsing hole. His nose is pressed up against your clit, giving you just the right amount of friction as he gathers your slick on his tongue, cycling between fucking it into you and laying it flat over your cunt. “Joel- joel oh fuck-” Your moans are frantic as he continues to send you closer and closer to that edge, his motions only getting faster as your hand fists in his hair. “Oh my god- fuck fuck fuuuuck-” your legs shake around his head, his hands keeping them apart as he works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you were spent and hazy, laying back on the table with shuddering breaths. 

Your eyes were pressed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of your orgasm, only to peek open when you hear the clink of his belt. His mouth was covered in the sheen of your orgasm, a hungry look in his eyes as he spits into his hand and pulls his cock out. “Tasted like a damn dream,” he groans while he strokes himself. “Gonna remember this forever…” Your eyes are locked on the motions of his wrist, the steady pace, the pearly precum that was leaking from his tip. “Fuckin’ perfect… makin’ me feel like a damn teenager again.” You wait with bated breath as he continues to stroke himself, wiggling your hips in order to entice him. 

 “Joel,” your voice is soft, but so heavily full of need it was almost painful “Please… I want you.” If you were being honest, you thought that it would take more convincing, that you would have to ask more, but Joel was desperate, maybe more so than you were and so when he sinks his cock into your dripping cunt it was ecstasy for both of you. Your eyes fall shut again at the feel of him, the stretch so much but so good. “Oh my god…” you whine, pushing yourself onto him further, your breathing stuttering when one of his hands palms at your breast, the other one gripping your hip with so much strength you think it would leave a mark. 

“That’s it…” he groans, slipping into you all the way. “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, like she was made for me.” His words are punctuated with shallow thrusts that fill you up again and again. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to you. The feeling of his hips pressing against yours is something you would never be able to get out of your memory. 

You both lay there, bodies pressed against each other, his hips rocking into you slow and steadily, the dim lighting of the studio casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His hips move at a steady pace, keeping you full of him as the coarse hairs around him press against your clit with the right amount of friction. It doesn't take much time until he's panting on top of you, your lips pressed against each other's in a heated kiss as you feel him spill inside you. 

“That was…” you were breathless, his chest still against yours, the rhythm of your hearts syncing up. 

“Yeah…” He grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead gently. “I know I told ya I was a gentleman but, I really would like to see you again… of course no pressure if you don't want to or anything-” 

You cut him off with a small laugh before he can keep going, nudging your head against his. “I want to, Joel.” You smile gently at him “Plus, you didn't finish the jar.” You grin, looking in the direction of the unfinished work of art he had started. “And then I have to fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again, then… well you get the point, I think I’ll be seeing you quite a few more times, Joel.”

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE;  HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

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Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 8

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5669 (again, I'm sorry! 🫣)

Warnings: everything a finale might entail.

A/N: It's done! This beast of an ending is finished! I hope you all will like it the way I do! 😃 All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The whole day went well. In fact, the whole of last week had gone pretty well. Dean hadn't known exactly what would happen if Y/N's family came to visit. Her father wasn't much different than before the wedding. But Helena...

He didn't know how he imagined they would meet, but he definitely didn't expect her to immediately seek his company. At first Dean had been unsure how to act. But then he fell back into old behavior patterns quite easily. And the more time he spent with the younger of the two sisters, the more it felt like back then. It took him back to the time when he had courted her.

But this time Helena seemed to be more open towards him, as if she was now more able to get involved with him and that did something to him. There were these moments over and over again, the smallest moments. They came soft and quietly, like a gentle touch, and whispered to him that it could always be like this. Then every time he looked over at Helena as she laughed and looked for him, he remembered what he had originally wanted. She had been the woman he had wanted to marry from the start. And the way it was right now, it could be like this forever.

Even though November was slowly coming to an end and it was noticeably cold, today the sun shone down from a bright blue sky and lit the way for them during their little ride. By now they were on the way back and Dean was telling a story from his childhood. The blonde woman at his side seemed to be listening attentively, eventhough she barely participated in the conversation.

And so a few minutes later he came to the end of his story and they rode on in silence. Even now she still didn't say much about herself. That made Dean a little suspicious, but he already knew that from her.

After they rode over the last hill, his castle came into view again and suddenly his heart felt a little heavy. Y/N’s face appeared in his mind’s eye and he frowned. How different sisters could be. His wife had told him a lot about herself. From the beginning he felt like she shared almost everything with him and secretly he had liked it. And once he had let her in, once he had overcome his anger after she fell sick, he started to like her.

The days they spent together were light and happy. They shared stories and made small memories. Her experience as a leader of the house was surprisingly giving him a big support. After her mother had sadly died, she had to step up and Dean realized at one point that they had a lot in common.

And they started to share the nights together. After they had sex the second time in the morning he got reminded on what he had liked about her the first night. Her scent was still so intoxicating. He had ordered her soap so that she would not run out of it for a while. Her body soft and warm and she still fitted right into his arms, over time he couldn't get enough of her. How confusing this all was. In his mind he had a clear vision, but his heart seemed to want something else.

When they arrived back in front of the castle, Helena's father was already coming towards them. Dean got off his horse, handed it over to Benny, who was already waiting, and then helped Helena dismount. They smiled at each other briefly before the young woman turned to her father.

"Pack your things, daughter. We will leave first thing in the morning."

"Really?" she asked, sounding a bit surprised.

Her father just nodded. Huh. The disappointment at this news didn't spread through Dean as much as he thought it would. Of course he thought it was a shame that she was leaving again, but somehow he had internally expected a stronger reaction on his part.

The second person who came out of the castle towards them was Ellen. With a quick step she stopped in front of Dean and told him what had happened just an hour before and that Y/N had almost been seriously injured. This news, on the other hand, triggered a lot of things in him. Ellen immediately showed him the place where the large stone figure was still lying on the ground. With a searching look, Dean looked up and immediately recognized the spot where the figure had been placed. Weird. Normally the anchor wouldn't just break like that. It was solid craftsmanship.

"Nothing happened to her, luckily." Ellen Dean answered a question he was about to ask. "But she's upstairs now. That... shook her up quite a bit."

Dean could well imagine that. Still, an inner feeling urged him to check on his wife and make sure she was okay. With a curt nod, he turned around and made his way into the inside of the castle when his eyes fell on Helena again, who smiled at him. This caused his steps to slow slightly for a moment before he hurried again.

Mixed feelings accompanied him up the stairs. Dean hadn't expected that seeing Helena again would upset him so much. It was as if he had been reminded of the shame of the false wedding and the woman he actually wanted. A woman who also seemed to be looking for his company. He ignored the small doubt that arose in his mind as to why she hadn't come to the wedding herself.

When he reached the bedroom door, he took a quick breath before opening the door and stepping inside. But as soon as he closed it behind him again, Y/N suddenly ended up in his arms. The slight impact meant that he had to briefly correct his stance. His arms automatically closed around Y/N and the calm that suddenly spread through him grounded him. But he only allowed this feeling for a moment.

He slowly peeled her out of his embrace and put a few steps distance between the two of them. He leaned down a little to look her in the eyes and examined her for a moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Y/N nodded her head.

Relief flooded through Dean and he closed his eyes briefly. But then he let go of Y/N and put more steps between the two of them as he ran his hand over his mouth in thought. Y/N was now his wife. The one he didn't actually want and yet she brought out more emotions in him than he would have liked.

"I think that was planned. I mean... something like that doesn't just fall off the wall, does it?" Y/N continued, bringing Dean's attention back to her.

"No, not really. At least it shouldn't." he replied.

"I think that...someone is still targeting me."

"Y/N..."

"Please Dean, just think about it. This... this can't be a coincidence!"

He was about to contradict her, but this time he couldn't. This action seemed strange even to him. But he still couldn't imagine who it could really be and why. So he just said nothing. He couldn't have guessed that he was only fueling Y/N's insecurity.

"Don't you think so?" So Y/N asked again.

"I... I'm not sure." was all he could say.

But he didn't need to say more, because Y/N could already feel the distance that was now spreading between them again. The brief moment in which she had finally felt close to him again, in which he might have believed her without a doubt, was gone and that scared her.

"Why are we drifting apart again, Dean?" So she asked with her heart pounding and received a surprised look from her husband. "What happened to us in the last week?"

Now Dean turned away from her. "It's not that easy, Y/N." and it wasn't.

But another thing became clear to him. He needed to sort out his feelings and he couldn't do that here. Not if he continued to share a room with Y/N. So he grabbed some clothes and his soap. Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to sleep in a different room tonight. Just for... tonight." Dean then told her.

"What?" Y/N was now starting to panic a little.

"I... need time to think. This is all... kind of confusing."

"You mean your feelings for Helena." she threw back at him and he heard her hurt.

"That too, yes," he admitted. "Look, I'm just trying to be honest here."

"But Dean... we're married now. Shouldn't we... talk about it?"

He couldn't leave her alone now. Again. Not after what had happened today. Shouldn't he be over Helena by now? Otherwise he wouldn't have finally gotten involved with Y/N. Or would he?

"I just need the distance now. Besides, Helena and your father are going home tomorrow morning. So..."

With this news, his behavior made sense, of course. But it still hurt Y/N again.

"Oh, I see. Because you can't bear the thought of her leaving... and then you'll be here alone with me again."

The words had a sharp undertone, but Dean immediately heard between the lines what she meant. "I didn't say that. Y/N..."

"I'm really sorry that it's such a pain to be married to me." she whispered now, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

"No, it's not like that. But..." he broke off his sentence. He didn't want to see her so hurt, but he also knew that his words wouldn't make it any better.

"But what?" Y/N asked anyway.

"I... I always just wanted to marry Helena. Not you." he still said it now.

And the same old story again. She was the woman nobody wanted. Everyone always just wants Helena. And even though she was the big sister and had to take care of her, she had had enough now. Too much was too much.

"But she never wanted to marry you!" she angrily shouted at him. "The whole time you were courting her, she only put up with it because our father wanted it that way!"

"What?" Dean frowned and looked questioningly at Y/N.

"She never loved you. She didn't even like you. And on the night of the wedding, she ran off with the man she had really loved for years to get married to him instead of you."

"Wait a minute..." so that was the reason why Y/N stepped in for Helena? No, that couldn't be.

"His name is Peter and he worked for my father. She fell for him immediately. And when our father forced the wedding on her, she came to me and begged me to help her. That's why I stepped in for her and married you."

Telling him the whole truth was, surprisingly, a very liberating feeling. It was finally out. Finally he knew the real reason for all this. But she also knew that it would feel different for Dean to know that now.

"That... that can't be." he said to himself, although it sounded pretty logical all in all.

"She never wanted you, Dean." now Y/N's anger had faded and she felt slightly exhausted from the whole day. But she still wasn't quite done. "But... I do."

"That... I..." But Dean didn't seem to have heard her, as lost in thought as he seemed. "I can't do this right now. We... we'll see each other tomorrow."

And with these last words he turned to the door and opened it. He had just stepped into the hallway when Y/N gathered all her courage.

"I love you, Dean!" she called after him, but the door had already slammed shut again, leaving her alone in the room.

"Why can't you see that?"

The next morning, Dean said goodbye to Helena and her father. Sam and Benny stood by his side and all three watched as the carriage slowly drove away. A strange feeling had settled in Dean's stomach. He had been thinking about what Y/N had told him all night and yet he still couldn't quite believe it.

Could he really have been so wrong about Helena? All the conversations they had had, all the time they had spent together, was it really all just a lie? And yet... even if he didn't normally put much faith in his intuition, it told him that this could all be possible.

After he had enough time last night to think about everything, he remembered that he knew this Peter. He had seen him several times when he was visiting them and he had not missed the look he had given Helena. But he didn't get a chance to think about it any further, because suddenly Sam's hand landed on his shoulder.

"So, where is Y/N?" his brother asked. "Didn't she want to say goodby to her family?"

"I don't know." Dean answered. "I haven't seen her this morning."

Sam and Benny exchanged a meaningful look, but Dean didn't notice. He was still too lost in thought.

"Okay." Sam said and turned his brother around who looked at him questioningly now. "I think we need to talk."

Y/N heard the carriage drive away, but didn't want to get up. She had barely slept all night and didn't want to say goodbye to her father and sister. And from the looks of things, they didn't mind either.

After a few more quiet moments, she finally stood up. She put on her dress and made her hair, but she again felt sick to her stomache. Something that has occurred every morning all week. She thought that once her family was gone, she would feel better. But after what happened with Dean, the feeling would probably last a little longer.

Even if she didn't want to, she had to show her face at some point. So she went out into the hallway and immediately ran into Millie, who was about to knock on her door. Her friend was slightly startled, but then seemed relieved when she saw that Y/N was okay.

"They're gone." Millie said.

"I know." Y/N answered.

An understanding silence spread between the two women, because they didn't need to say anything more.

"How about breakfast? You didn't eat anything last night, Y/N."

"I know, but I just can't eat anything at the moment."

"Are you still feeling sick? It's been like this for almost a week now." Millie asked worried.

"Yes, but it's probably just an upset stomach because of the whole situation here. It will definitely pass." she tried to calm her friend down and it seemed to work.

"Okay, but let me get you at least a cup of tea, okay?"

"Yes, please." Y/N smiled. "Go ahead. I'll be right there."

Millie nodded, smiling as well, and made her way back downstairs. As soon as her friend disappeared from her field of vision, Y/N took a quick breath and gathered her nerves before she too wanted to set off.

"Y/N?" she heard a familiar voice behind her. When she turned around, she realized that it was Alex.

"Alex, hey." She said friendly.

"Is Dean with you?" he asked and looked around.

"No, he is not." she actually did not want to think about him before she stood infront of him, but something in Alex's voice seemed off. "Why? Did something happen?"

"Sam and I were just up on the tower and we found something. We wanted to show him."

Now her interest was aroused and she took a few steps towards Alex. "What exactly did you find?"

"From the looks of things, the figure did not fall down on its own, but someone helped it." explained Alex.

This surprised Y/N, but in the end this statement only confirmed her own suspicions. So someone was after her after all. She had to see it with her own eyes.

"I knew it! I would also like to see it and talk to Sam about it."

"Oh, yeah. Sure!" Alex nodded obviously slightly taken aback. "I'll take you up to Sam and then I'll find Dean. That's no problem."

"Then let's go!" said Y/N and Alex cleared the way for her to go ahead.

He pointed her in the direction and waited until she had passed him so that he could walk behind her and Y/N couldn't see the large kitchen knife that was in the back of his belt.

With a whiskey in hand, Dean, Sam and Benny sat in front of the fireplace in the dining hall. Dean was still kinda confused on what Sam was on about, but he welcomed the amber liquid anyways. Sam turned around to see if they were alone in the room, before he started to talk.

"Okay, Dean. What is wrong with you?" he asked quite bluntly.

"What?"

"You seemed so happy in the last month with Y/N. And then her family comes to visit and you change that suddenly."

"It's not that easy, Sam." Dean grumbled and put his glass down in the ground infront of him.

"Yeah, no. I get it. You wanted to marry Helena. I know. But you ended up with Y/N and the two of you seemed to match really well."

"She's one of a kind, brother." Benny agreed with Sam.

"Yeah, yeah, but I catched feelings for Helena!" Dean exclaimed. "That nobody wants to understand this!"

"So that's the reason why you treat Y/N so badly?" Sam asked straight forward.

"I... I treat her badly? Are you serious?" Now Dean got angry.

"You ignored her and just did not care about her. You focused solely on Helena." Benny explained.

"We... we were reconnecting." Now Dean stood up again. "I don't even know why I have to explain myself to you."

"I'm only asking you because I want to understand what's wrong with you, Dean." Sam also stood up now. "Because the Dean I know would never treat a woman like that."

Dean huffed. "I brought Y/N here with me, didn't I? She's here now and I didn't break the deal with her father. So don't tell me I'm treating her badly."

"She has feelings for you, Dean," Sam replied.

"Oh, what nonsense." Dean waved it off and half turned his back on the two men. But the memory of how he had imagined last night that Y/N had called after him that she loved him came right back to him.

"Anyone can see that." Now Benny stood up too.

"But I have much more in common with Helena than with Y/N."

"Really? Like what?" Sam challenged.

"Sam, c'mon."

"No, Dean. I would really love to hear that."

"Well..." Dean gave in. "First of all, the thing about children. I definitely want to have children, in the near future, and Helena wants that too."

"No, brother." Benny now intervened. "That was Y/N. Y/N said that, not Helena. We were all standing at the stables and watching the horses. That was... on the first or second day after they arrived."

Now Dean frowned slightly and thought about it. But it didn't take long for Dean to remember. "Oh. Yes. Okay, you're right, Benny. But... that's not the only thing."

"And what else do you have in common?"

And then Dean started to list. He remembered all the conversations he had had with Helena and the points in which they were so similar. Whether it was about the future of his business, protecting his clan against the redcoats. A possible future in America or their favorite pie.

"And for our honeymoon we wanted to travel across the sea to France. So that Helena could see the stars on the high seas at night," he almost enthused.

"But Dean..." now Sam looked confused. "Everything you just said, every single point, was not said by Helena, but by Y/N."

"No, no, no." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "It was Helena."

"No, it was not! Helena only wants to travel in the near future. She wants to enjoy life and spent a lot of money... basically." Summarized Sam Helena's words in his own way. "She never said anything else."

"You're wrong, Sam."

"No, I am not! I was there too when you talked about these things!"

But Dean didn't want to believe it. He folded his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. None of this was true. He couldn't be so wrong, he hadn't imagined it. Helena had said that, not Y/N.

But Sam didn't want to give up so quickly. "Did you hear that she ran away on the night of the wedding to marry another man?"

"How...?" Dean's eyes widened in surprise.

"Millie heard Helena tell Y/N. Unfortunately, the guy was already married. He even has a son!"

Y/N hadn't told him that last night. Dean let his arms fall again. Something wasn't right here.

"And something else..." now Sam came up to Dean and looked him straight in the eyes. "The thing about seeing stars on the open sea... that was Y/N's wish. Because her mum..."

"...had told her about it so often when she was little." Dean finished the sentence in a whisper and looked at Sam in surprise.

And suddenly everything was there again. The memories, of the conversations. The real memories. Dean saw them one after the other in his mind's eye and he had to sit down. He had heard every word Y/N had ever said. No matter when it was, no matter how often he had visited, she was always there. And something else was there again too.

His memories of the first meeting with Y/N. Her warm gaze and friendly smile. Her shimmering eyes that made his heart beat a little faster. How could he have forgotten that? How could Helena have blinded him that much? It was Y/N. From the beginning, it had always been just Y/N.

When Y/N got to the top of the tower, it didn't take her long to realize that Sam wasn't there. Alex had already closed the door behind her and she turned to him questioningly. She was about to ask him where Sam was, but the look on Alex's face made her stop.

"You're really making it too easy." Alex said and then carefully pulled out the knife.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock and she took a few steps back. She raised her hands defensively.

"What... what are you doing, Alex?" but the young man wasn't listening to her.

"I was actually hoping that my little gift would make you run away, but somehow it didn't work. On the contrary, it brought you and Dean even closer together."

What? Y/N couldn't believe her ears. Alex. It was Alex who was behind all this. That couldn't be true.

"Although..." he pointed at her with the knife and took a few steps back and forth. "At first, things didn't look so bad for me when you were lying in the stable in the cold. I didn't tell anyone that I saw you there because I thought you would freeze to death that night anyway. Then I wouldn't have had to get my hands dirty."

Y/N still remembered that. She had seen Alex walking through the stable when she was hiding there from Dean and had been relieved that Alex hadn't seen her. How foolish of her.

"But then Benny had to find you the next morning. He was in the stable before me, even though I was awake so early. That annoyed me even more because I couldn't be sure that you had actually died already."

The coldness with which Alex spoke made Y/N freeze. She had gotten to know the young man as so friendly and nice that she couldn't imagine that he actually had such an evil side to him. That he was actually capable of something like murder, but apparently she hadn't known him well enough. Because he had cleverly hidden this side from her. And he had kept this side secret not only from her, but also from everyone else.

"So I had to think of something else. But you know what? It wasn't easy because suddenly Dean wouldn't let you out of his sight. You were terribly stuck together."

Y/N carefully looked over her shoulder, but she couldn't see anyone in front of the castle. What should she do now? She had to stay calm and hope that Alex made a mistake. Calling for help was not an option. That might cause Alex to react frantically and she would put herself in danger.

"So I had to wait for a suitable opportunity again. Unfortunately, it seemed to take longer than I thought. After a month, I already felt like I had to come up with something more drastic. Separate you somehow or something. But then your family came to visit and luck was on my side again."

"The statue..." Y/N realized.

"Exactly!" Alex smiled, but not for long. "It took forever to cut the damn thing off without anyone noticing. And when you were finally in the right place, I dropped it. But of course Ellen, our head mom, had to notice and save you."

The contempt with which he uttered the last sentence was written all over his face. He came another step closer and Y/N's heart began to race in her chest. She kept her eyes on the knife.

"So I had to get creative again and look where we are now, just one day later."

"You... you don't have to do this." she stuttered, still keeping her eyes on Alex.

"Aahh, see? You're wrong there." Alex shifted his stance slightly to the side. "That's all I have to do."

And then he leapt forward and swung the knife.

"Dean! Sam!" Millie shouted as she came running into the dining hall.

Sam was up on his feet first. "Millie? What's wrong?"

"It's Alex! The one who is after Y/N! It's Alex!" She came to a halt right infront of Sam.

"What?" All three men said, but not just them.

Ellen stood in the doorway with two other maids and Cassie behind them. All women looked shocked and for a second nobody said a word. But then Sam came back to his sense.

"Wait, how do you know?" He asked.

"I was just upstairs looking for Y/N. She's not feeling well in the last days and I met her in the hallway. We talked and then I went ahead to go down first. But just when I rounded the corner, I heared Alex's voice and I stopped in my tracks." Now she was looking at Sam. "He had said to her that he just had been up on the tower with you."

Dean didn't need to hear anything more. With a determined look on his face, he jumped up and immediately made his way upstairs. Sam and Benny also started running when Millie called for Sam again.

"He had a big kitchen knife with him!"

Now Sam's expression darkened. He turned around once more to take a loaded shotgun from the cupboard next to the stairs and then continued upstairs.

At the last second, Y/N managed to dodge it with a jump, but that brought her to the edge of the tower wall. Alex, on the other hand, almost fell to the ground, but was just able to catch himself. But now pure anger was visible on his face.

"Why are you doing this?" Y/N asked and got back on her feet.

Now Alex looked at her a little astonished. "You really still don't know that?"

Y/N kept her back to the wall and Alex came to a stop just a few steps away from her. The door was now behind him again. The woman infront of him only shook her head no.

Alex huffed. "Well, for Cassie, of course!" he said, looking like it was the most logical answer in the world.

What he didn't notice was the door behind him opening quietly and carefully. Y/N, however, saw it all too well and hoped he wouldn't notice.

"So... did she put you up to it?"

"What? No! Oh god, no. She has no idea about it."

Now the barrel of a gun was visible and then Y/N saw two green eyes directed at her. She would recognize these eyes anywhere and her heart leapt with hope. Still, she had to tear her gaze away from the door and force herself not to look there anymore.

"But I... thought you would love her?"

"I do! That's why I'm doing this!" Alex exclaimed.

"That... does not make sense... don't you think?" tried Y/N to distract him.

"Of course it does!" But when Alex looked at her face he realized that she really didn't understand what he meant and so he started to explain it to her.

"I love Cassie and I want her to be happy. Unfortunately, she doesn't love me, which I can't change. But she loves Dean and she said herself that she can only be happy with him."

Okay, that wasn't anything new for Y/N, but somehow she had a bad feeling about what he was getting at.

"But as long as you're here, she won't be able to be happy with Dean and that's why I have to kill you. So that Cassie can finally take this chance and be happy."

Meanwhile, Dean had stepped through the door and had the shotgun aimed at Alex's head. Behind him, Y/N noticed that Sam and Benny were also there and seemed to be getting ready.

"But if you kill me, Dean will marry Helena. Because that's who he originally wanted to marry, not me."

Now Alex thought for a moment, but quickly recovered. "If it really comes to that, I'll think of something. But now shut up and let me finally kill you!"

The young man was just about to jump forward again when he heard Dean's voice behind him.

"I'd think about that again, son of a bitch!"

Alex looked back in shock, but didn't even have time to take another step. The shot from the gun could be heard across the entire castle. It hit Alex right between the eyes, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps and then fall over the tower wall.

Dean didn't waste another second, dropped the gun to the ground and ran straight to Y/N. He took her face in his hands and saw tears forming in her eyes.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he did not hurt me. I'm fine, Dean."

But then Y/N broke down. She began to sob wildly, letting her tears flow freely and clinging to Dean. He immediately took her in his arms and held her tightly while giving her a kiss on her hairline.

"It's over." Dean reassured her. "It's finally all over."

It took a little longer until everyone was back down from the tower. Especially since Y/N didn't want to let go of Dean. He took her down to the kitchen, where Ellen had already prepared a hot cup of tea for her. He slowly released her from his arms so she could sit on a chair. Y/N had calmed down a bit, but her tears hadn't all dried up yet. Ellen touched her lightly on the shoulder and pushed the cup a little closer to her.

"Drink this. It calms the nerves." which in turn meant that Ellen had put a sip of whiskey in the tea. "I'll leave you alone then." and with a gentle smile she disappeared.

"Dean..." Y/N begann, but she did not come very far.

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out. "I'm sorry about everything!"

Y/N had expected everything, but not that. And so she stayed quiet for a moment because she didn't know what to answer or how to react. But she didn't have to wait long for an explanation, because Dean looked at her determinedly and continued.

"I should have believed you. All of this... is so damned my fault. It's only because of me that you got into this situation." He ran his hand through his hair. "Just because I was such an idiot..."

"Dean..." she tried again, but even on the second attempt she didn't get very far.

"I love you." now Y/N was stunned and her eyes widened in utter surprise. "I love you since the first time I Iaid eyes on you."

Again, Y/N felt emotions rising within her and she looked closely at Dean. But she could see nothing but honesty and sincerity in his eyes and so she just let him continue talking.

"But I was just too blind to see it. It took me so long to really see it and so much had to happen for me to finally see it clearly. Sam and Benny also had to talk to me so that I could see my mistakes. But now I know, I know for sure."

Y/N was holding her breath, the tea long forgotten.

"When I look at you, I see the future and I guess I always have. I think I was just too cowardly to admit it to myself. But now I never want to give it up again. I want to spend my life with you, until the end of our days."

And Dean was completely serious. Deep down he knew that was exactly what he was feeling. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve, but the longer Y/N remained silent, the more he became afraid that it might already be too late. But then his wife started sobbing again before she spoke.

"I would be careful with what you say because if you really mean it... then I swear you will never get rid of me." and then she smiled at Dean, while relief and happiness flooded through him at these words.

"I couldn't imagine anything better."

A/N: Aaaand we're done! I'm happy and sad at the same time. 🥹🥹🥹 But I was thinking... since we had so many up's and down's, who would want an epiloge? 🫣 Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

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@thebiggerbear

[rwuffles]

okay, so, calico cove has gotten me mushy — because of people crying over my notes, me getting emotional over the notes i got, and the community as a whole. blame them for this heartfelt mushfest, i guess; this is an appreciation letter because i can't keep my big fat mouth shut ever!

to the mogai community as a whole: thank you. for, what? i don't think i could get into the specifics if i tried. we are, to be quite frank, a mess at times — discourse and drama and pettiness galore — but god i'd be lying to say i don't love it anyways. i found the community when i was stuck in a really toxic friend group, and when i was starting to hide parts of myself in order to fit in / not get bullied. it didn't really work. but, i found everyone here. people who ided similarly to me, people who also hoarded stuff, and god i fucking adored all of the coining and npt blogs. it's been a really long ride, and i'm still trying to figure myself out as we go along, but i wouldn't be, well, xuân if it weren't for everything that this community has shown me. coining and flag-making have been there for me when i didn't have words to describe how i felt, and when i needed people who'd accept me for being me; it's shown me that i shouldn't settle for anything less than that. everything i do on this blog, really, is a love letter to the community as a whole and me trying to give back everything its given me, and i hope that's clear with how much love goes into everything i create.

and, god, don't even get me started on how much i adore everyone i've met through the community!

some people i'm not quite as close with as i used to be, and some people i don't talk with at all anymore, but i have to be honest when i say that i adore and am grateful towards everyone in the community i've met during my time within it.

to @vampitsm: what sort of appreciation letter would this be if it didn't include you? you've been my friend since, what, one of my old old blogs? it's been one whole year since we've become friends; can you believe that? it was actually right around this time that we started gaia's — or rather, sweetshop. when we first met, i'll be honest and say that i didn't think we'd stay friends long. i'd always held a fairly pessimistic view of the people around me — assuming they'd leave or i'd drop them one way or another. but, you didn't. you'd stayed, you were my friend, you sided with me time and time again. at some point, i found myself wanting to be your friend — even though we already were friends! i'll be honest and say that a lot of the time, when i do things, i hope that i'll make you laugh. you and your opinion mean a lot to me, and i always look forward to the next time we talk.

to @fangpunk: there's so much i could say about you, you little faggot (silly). when i'd first joined mogaiblr, you were one of our inspirations — we looked up to you, wanted to be your mutual, and just generally thought y'all were one of the coolest guys out there. who woulda thought that we'd have the friendship we do today? you're an amazing friend, i think you're one of the funniest people we know and you've always got something to say — in a good way! i love your input on every situation, and especially when izuku isn't scared to put his foot down in our place; you make us less scared to be ourself and encourage us to be less of a pushover. so, thank you!

to @cloverpilled: you're a real dork. my dork, though. maybe i should've realized i didn't quite just see you as a friend when i was vying for your attention and calling you 'my favorite' all the time; but, it worked out in the end, didn't it? everything you make — flags, rentries, layouts, etc. — are always wonderful and i still get giddy seeing you put 'taken' in your rentries and knowing that's me. i've always loved our friendship, and i can't fathom a world without it, especially not now that we're boyfriends. i know you're not the best with words — comforting, being open, all that jazz — and i've never minded it. really, i think you're one of the sweetest people in the world and you always try your best even if it's not in the most forward or obvious manner.

to shua: you. you have been in the fucking psych ward for the past... 4-5 months? i miss you so much, dude; i'm so happy you're going to be out in 2 days. i can't wait to spend the rest of the holidays with you and everyone else in gaia's. you're an amazing person, to be entirely honest, and i miss spending time with you. you've been my friend since before i was here on rwuffles. do you know how fucking long that is? i've looked up to you since forever, and i'm so happy that we're friends. i cherish you and i cherish our friendship as a whole more than i think i could ever express, sometimes i can't believe that we've been friends for so long, but we have! to another year of you & i!

to hadiyah: i have no idea what your current (?) tumblr account is, to be entirely honest, so i hope this finds its way to you one way or another. you're such an amazing person, i think you're so funny and i love talking with you — it's always a treat. sure, you aren't quite as active in gaia's anymore; i don't mind. i still consider you a really good friend of ours. you've been our friend since... the beginning of gaia's as well, i believe? so, really, i couldn't be more grateful to have you in my life and to have had you as a friend for so long! thank you, so much.

to @sevvys: sev. you. you are so cool and awesome and i love talking to you. thank you for being our friend — we don’t even remember how long we’ve been friends for. but, thank you. to be entirely honest, you’re an older sibling figure in our lives and we love being able to hang out and make stupid jokes; i think you’re really funny and i’ve always looked up to you in a way if that doesn’t sound weird? i don’t talk to you as much as i wish i did, and i want that to change, but you’re always super level-headed in my opinion and really good at handling discussions i guess. i don’t know how to express how cool i think you are. you’re just a really reliable, caring person i think

to @rabidbatboy: i think i’ve looked up to you for… an absurdly long amount of time. when you first started coining, you were one of the only people coining less “cutesy” stuff; it was definitely a breath of fresh air and we found ourselves super excited to see any new terms you’d come up with. to be honest? we still love everything you coin, even if we aren’t quite in the fandoms you’re coining for — plus i just think you’re awesome as a person. i love talking to you, as i’ve said to lots of people, you’re super funny and i always look forward to talking to you next! you’re not quite as active in gaia’s anymore, and i know you’re not the best with words, so i don’t expect anything grand in response; i just want you to know that i really care about you and i’ve always appreciated your presence.

to eddie: that’s right, oldie! you get a section, too! because i consider you a really good friend of ours, even if i don’t talk to you very much and you aren’t (?) quite in the mogai community. i really like talking to you and i like our back and forth banter a lot — it feels like you’re an older sibling of ours a lot of the time. i like being the annoying little brother to you, and i really hope that we can keep being friends. it feels really weird being genuine and expressing how much you matter to me considering how often we tend to jokingly butt heads, but i just need you to know that i really love our friendship and i can’t imagine it being any other way. i hope your holidays are good, ya old fuck (affectionate).

and, this section isn't quite for people who are in the mogai community. rather, friends & loved ones i've known since before then that i love with all my heart and that have supported me throughout everything — discovering myself and realizing how much i adore these labels. there aren't enough words to explain how much i love you all and appreciate your staying by my side and not abandoning me.

to elipse, my dear boyfriend: thank you. you’ve supported me through everything — even when it felt like everyone else was against me and i was left on my own again. you are my dearest, my beloved, my forever and my eternity; i’m not scared to be mushy about that. it’s been a wonderful two years by your side, and i hope for it to be many more. you’ve loved me through my ups and downs, my wrongs and rights, my weirdest moments and all the cute stuff in-between. you’ve been my number one supporter — especially when i was first starting to become a mogai coiner — and you’ve remained my number one supporter since. you’re the most wonderful boyfriend i could ever ask for: supportive, sweet, considerate, and amazing. i love you. 

to caelan, my lovely girlfriend: you!! you’ve been my best friend for seven years. do you know how long that is? i’m 16! i was 9 when we met! i’ve almost known you and akemi for longer than i haven’t! that is both a terrifying and wonderful thought: to have someone by your side for so long that you can recall more of your life with them than without it. i adore everything about you, and i’m so sorry if it seems like i’m a bit awkward or not the best conversationalist sometimes; everything about you is amazing and i just feel like a little wet dog near you somedays. i miss you so much, and i hope your break from fronting is going well, and that you know i love you and am so excited to talk to you again when you’re back. 

to akemi, one of my bestest and oldest friends: a lot of what i said in caelan’s note is what i’d say to you. we’ve known eachother for so long, that it’s hard to imagine my life if you hadn’t been in it. actually, i think my entire life would’ve taken a different course if we hadn’t met on that fnaf minecraft roleplay on hypixel — can you believe it? how such little things manage to make such big impacts on our lives and who we are as people? i know we don’t talk as much anymore, but, as i’ve said before, i consider you one of my dearest friends and you mean the complete world to me. so, thank you for having stayed by my side for so long, akemi.

to ice, my amazing sister: you!!! the sister ever!!! you’ve always taken on an older sibling role in my life since we met, and i think you just tend to slot into that role perfectly; thank you for always being there for me and taking care of me. i don’t think i’d have made it this far without you being there and reassuring me every step of the way. we might not be super close, or talk as much as i’d like us to, but i really enjoy your company and love talking with you. i’m just a little bit of an awkward guy. when you send me stuff on pinterest, it always makes me happy and i love checking and seeing that i have a new message from you. i can’t believe we’ve been friends for — how long is it, at this point — six years? i think around that time. that’s unbelievable to me.

to smg, my one & only brother: the stupidest most dorkiest most infuriating brother i could ever have the pleasure of knowing and being able to call my brother. that’s what you are. you and your stupid brainrot and stupid jokes and stupid everything — i could never imagine a world where you aren’t my brother. even if you act like you don’t care a lot of the time, you make sure we know that you do care (even if it’s in your own, stupid little way). i love being your friend and i’m so grateful i’ve had you in my life for so long. you are the first and currently the only online friend who i’ve been able to meet irl, and i hope to be able to see you again sometime soon. even if you never quite got the labels that i’d talk about or ramble about, and even if you might get on my nerves sometimes, you’re still my brother at the end of the day and i wouldn’t want it any other way.

next up, we have people who i don’t quite talk to as much anymore who’s presences in my life i really appreciate. of course, i’m not sure if all of them still have tumblr blogs — most being deactivated — or if they even really want to hear how i care about them. so, really, i’ll leave this brief and say that this part is addressed to: ghost, mimsy, and woodbyne. thank you guys for having played such a large role in our lives at one point or another, and i wish you all the best even if we don’t talk as much nowadays. 

i don’t think that i can dedicate a paragraph to everyone, even if i really wish i could, as i don’t think most people are going to be willing to read through this whole post with the length that it’s getting to. so, i’m just gonna tag a bunch of people? just to let you guys know that you’re loved in every which way even if i have a shitty time showing it to all of you? 

the sillies ever who are so kind and sweet and i enjoy everytime they send me asks, reblog, leave a reply, or just interact with me in general: @ainoshonen @smilepilled @angeltism @zoeynovie

coiners that are actually a lot smaller than i thought they were that i think are so cool and need more recognition: @acronym-chaos @nostalgiagender

OTHER coiners that i think deserve recognition for the things they do and the stuff they create even if i didn’t think they were big at first: @sylviestial @pupcoins @love-letterworm @jiiamp @boingogender @kitsflagz

other BIG coiners that i look up to and have looked up to for a long time — whether we’re currently actually friends (which i still can’t get over), we don’t talk a lot if we do know eachother, or that i haven’t met personally: @idwl @kiruliom @webby-mogai @gender-mailman @puriette-archived @lunentity @the-astropaws @lepus-fangs

everyone who participated in mogai team-up, which, i can’t get over the fact we’ve managed to hit 1k followers because holy SHIT that’s a lot of fucking people, but thank you guys for coming together to help me celebrate it and let this fucking monster of an event (very positive) happen in the first place: @daybreakthing @floraeth @kylertism @robofox-mogai @dragonpuff17 @novaurora @flutteringwings-coining @xyrthemost @catboy-autism @cannibalisticcoinz

if i didn't tag you... uh. our memory is shit, sorry! i tried to remember everyone and i'm literally going to cry if i forgot someone

finally, to everyone in calico cove: thank you. for all of you coming together to help me create a community that’s so loving, so sweet and accepting that it has managed to become a safe space for a plethora of people that i’d have never imagined it to. you’re all lovely, and i’m so glad to be able to share a space with everyone and anyone that’s there. calico cove as a whole just makes me super emotional — cheesy, i know — but it’s essentially one of my dreams come true. it’s been an aspiration of mine to be able to create safe spaces with people wherever i go, and to foster an environment where people feel safe to be themselves without ridicule or fear of judgement. i’m so glad that i’ve been able to create that in calico cove. to hear you guys say or admit that it’s a safe space for you makes me emotional everytime, even if i’m not fully able to convey that to you all. 

thank you to everyone in the mogai community; have a happy holidays!

[goopgirlie813]

Fair, I guess. I see where you are coming from. 

From my perspective, the reason serial criminals like Dahmer get brought up is because it is the situation where prisons seem the most necessary. Like, at least temporarily, if someone is killing and raping other people they should be separated from society so they can't access victims, right? Even if just until they finish some form of rehab. And in my mind, none of the things you proposed seemed like they would actually deny serial criminals access to victims. Forceful detention, even just temporarily, seems in my mind like the most reliable way to keep someone like Dahmer from having an opportunity to reoffend. That's the key, opportunity to reoffend. I find it terrifying to imagine a society where someone can be caught and convicted and sentenced for horrific crimes and still have the opportunity to access victims if they want. I think that's what most people are trying to do with that argument. Not an infinite loop but an (admittedly poorly executed) expression of the fear that without prison people like Dahmer could just continue killing. Intuitively it seems like these people won't stop unless they are incapable of continuing and prison is an easy to understand way to make their reoffenses impossible. Its scary to imagine taking that away and reintroducing that possibility. 

That said, now that I've cooled off a bit I think I can better see why you are frustrated. You have been answering to the best of your ability but there have been layers of uncommunicated assumptions beneath the questions we were asking that we (or I, at least) didn't even realize were there. I thought I was being more straightforward than I was because I took for granted the ways your perspective differed from what I am familiar with. 

I assumed that it was a given that Serial Criminals need a forceful denial of access to victims in order to be adequately addressed and I also assumed that it was a given that prisons are the only way to guarantee that. The way it has always been presented to me, prisons are the definitive method of stopping a crime and those crimes can only continue harming the public if the perpetrator is outside of the prison. So follow that logic train, if someone won't stop reoffending you need to be able to draw a line somewhere by putting them in prison or else it will never end. Therefore, if you abolish prisons, some criminals will never and can never be stopped so we will be forced to accept the fact that we may be murdered or raped or whatever at any random point and there will be nothing anyone can do to stop them. (Except extrajudicial violence, of course, but that's really no way to run a stable society.)

And I'm sure you will see some glaring issues with that train of thought that aren't so obvious to me, but hopefully that makes it make a little more sense.

The key problem here, I think, is that we believe that some form of detention is the only way to definitively stop certain people from re-offending. Specifically for the scenarios where the crime is a serious danger to others, like rape and murder. We want a definitive solution to exist somewhere because if it doesn't then the mere existence of Dahmer types evokes a feeling of terrified helplessness, "what if we can't change them? What if there's nothing we can do to be safe?" 

Detention seems like the only truly definitive answer (or at least, the most definitive available) so what's really being asked is, "is there a point in which you will allow prison in emergencies or do you have a different, equally definitive way to stop them?" and no number of rehabilitation or reduction options listed will ever satisfy that question. There needs to be something that can forcefully prevent killers who want to kill from killing (or raping or stealing or whatever) in that time period between conviction and reform, or else we will never find complete prison abolition an acceptable option, no matter how much we support rehabilitation as the primary approach (as I do. I only argue for detention as an emergency back up plan for repeat offenders of horrific crimes, to keep them from hurting people if or until they can be successfully rehabilitated). Without that, it seems like a gaping hole, an oversight, a blind spot, a loophole for the worst of the worst to terrorize us without adequate consequence or barriers.

I was getting really frustrated that you were treating the "what if they reoffend?" question like a rhetorical trick because in my mind it was asking, "How do we prevent people who want and intend to kill us from actually being able to kill us?" (big fear for those in marginalized groups who face frequent hate and threats) but to you it seems it sounded like "how can we trick you into supporting prisons and admitting you're wrong?" And while you seem to have been trying to say, "I'm not budging on my opinion unless you can convince me that prisons are valuable," it sounded to us like, "so what if they kill people? Prisons fail too much anyway so letting them go on murder sprees really isn't any worse if you think about it. Allowing a little murder and rape here and there is just the price of a fair and just society." And while that probably sounds bonkers to you I hope it explains why you're getting the reactions you are. I mean, imagine how you would react if you thought someone was telling you that, if they couldn't just talk him into being a good person, they would have shrugged it off and willingly let Jeffery fucking Dahmer continue roaming free for the sake of "improvement" and dismissed his victims as collatoral damage. Not what you were saying, but the miscommunication sure as hell made it sound that way. In reality, we are all talking past each other and having two separate conversations and the same time without realizing it. 

(Hope I understood what you were trying to say correctly.) 

so yeah I apologize for making you pull out your hair, I've been doing the same. Hopefully this helps at least a little bit. Even if you still think we're being irrational and foolish for this position I hope it gives you a little more clarity moving forward.

Pretty sure @needabetternamelater has reblogged like 5 of my posts and then blocked me. So that's funny. But, just in case it's just a glitch that won't let me reblog those replies.

What do we do with rapists in a prisonless society? Well, 1. Fewer than 1% of rapists go to prison, so holding up prison as the standard that any other solution has to beat isn't hard. What do with do with rapists in a society with prisons? For 99+%? Not prison.

2. Prisons do not reduce the amount of rapes that happen. So again, prison fails pretty handedly at being both a prevention and a punishment. (It's a bit like arguing 'without the death penalty, what will we do with shop lifters?")

3. I've explain many times, on posts you've responded to, the variety of responses a justice system can have to any crime, including sexual assault. Mandatory counseling, restraining orders, restorative/reparation hearings, housing and employment restrictions, fines, caseworker check ins, mental health consults, and vocational training are all possible responses, and which would would have the best chance of preventing recidivism would depend on the specifics of that person and the risk factors in them reoffending.

In the past, we locked people in pillories and cut off their hands for crimes. Phasing out a cruel and ineffective punishment doesn't mean there's free reign for crime.

[himasgod]

Diluc x Reader

Where you help him pick his grapes at sunset

Where you help him pick grapes and spend the whole day working. Because you spend your time eating grapes instead of working, you end up playing pocky with a grape and sharing a wine in the evening.

The evening light painted the Dawn Winary in golden hues, and the vines seemed to glow as if they were grateful for the warm day. You stood by one of the barrels, admiring the view as Diluc carefully adjusted the last bunch of grapes into a basket.

“You know you don’t have to stay and help me, right?” he said with a slight smile, not looking away from his task.

“And you know I’m not leaving, right?” you replied, crossing your arms with a smile.

Diluc sighed, but there was a spark of amusement in his gaze as he looked up at you. It was rare to see him so relaxed, without the seriousness that usually accompanied him on his night patrols or while he tended to the affairs of the vineyard.

“If you insist…” he murmured, straightening up and offering the basket. “Then at least do something useful.”

“Useful?” you glared at him, feigning indignation as you took the basket. "I've been working all day!"

"Calling eating more grapes than you pick "working" is a bit generous, don't you think?"

You blushed, though you couldn't help but laugh too. It was true: you had succumbed to temptation more than once. The grapes were sweet and juicy, and you didn't regret trying a few… or several.

"It's a necessary quality control" you declared proudly.

So, you grabbed a grape from Diluc's basket, one that looked especially large and juicy, and held it between your fingers.

"I've already done my quality test. Now it's your turn to try them."

And with that, you put your lips into a duck beak shape and held the grape between them. Your plan was malicious but cunning. Diluc looked at you with a raised eyebrow

"So you expect me to taste the quality of my own perfect grapes from your lips?"

You gave a thumbs up smiling as best you could, your lips busy holding the grape between them.

Diluc sighed before placing a hand on your lower back and pulling you a little closer to him. With his other hand, he raised it to your cheek cupping it and with a lazy smile, giving you a slow and soft kiss as he stole the grape from your lips, passing it to his own. He continued kissing you as he savored it a little, before pulling away and saying.

"As perfect as ever"

"The grape or me?"

"Who knows"

With a big smile as if you were a little girl you grabbed the basket and began to deposit the grapes while humming a song, your spirits high.

Diluc shook his head, but his smile didn't disappear. He watched as you carried the basket into the cellar, noticing how the last rays of sunlight illuminated your face. There was something calming about sharing these moments with you, away from the bustle of Mondstadt and the shadows that often haunted him.

“Come here,” he called to you after a while, pointing to a small wooden bench on the porch of his mansion, overlooking the vineyards. In his hands, he held a bottle of red wine he had taken from the cellar.

You joined him, and Diluc poured two glasses before taking a seat beside you.

“This wine is new. I wanted to try it with you before presenting it at Angel's Share. You know I normally hate wine, but a glass won't hurt me."

“With me?” you asked, smiling widely.

“I trust your opinion… when you're not too busy eating the grapes, that is.”

You both laughed, and the moment felt perfect. The night breeze was beginning to blow gently, and the taste of the wine was exquisite. But the best of all was seeing Diluc like this: relaxed, enjoying the present, and sharing with you a lighter, more human side of himself.

“It’s delicious,” you said, smiling as you raised your glass to him. “I think Charles will be delighted.”

“I hope so. But…” Diluc raised his glass, his expression softer than usual. “Even if he wasn’t, this moment is worth it.”

It was in those moments that you realized how much it meant to him to have someone to share the small pleasures of life with.

[happilyhertale]

Captured Moments – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daemon has to go on a business trip again. You hate it every time he leaves you alone for a long time. But to make his alone time special, you plan to make him a little film.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Dirty Talk; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

This is my last story for this year's Smuffmas Challenge. It was great fun creating all these little stories and reading your comments on my stories. Thanks for reading!

I hope you'll also like my last Daemon story.

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

Daemon is a man of many complexities. With the sleek, tailored suits he wore to business meetings, you almost forget that there is a certain fire beneath his cool exterior. He isn’t the kind of man to show his emotions easily, nor was he the type to stand still when there is a task to be done. But when he is with you, all of that seems to melt away.

But now, you are facing the reality of his business trip. The one he has to leave for so soon. You don‘t know how long he’d be gone, and that is the hardest part. He would normally give you exact dates and let you in on his plans. Usually to rant about his business partners. But this time, he didn't know how long he would be gone. And you hated it. You hate the uncertainty, you hate the distance that it created. And yet you know he has no choice. Duty, work, all of it… it doesn't make it any easer though.

You are in your bedroom now, your mind racing. The soft lighting in the room creats a sensual atmosphere, and as you gaze at the old camera on the dresser, the thought of giving Daemon a farewell gift consumes you. You aren’t the type to be overtly emotional, but this is different. You want to leave a piece of you with him, something tangible. Something to make him smile when he is far away.

You move to the bed, your fingers grazing the smooth silk sheets. Carefully, you strip out of your clothes, leaving only your lingerie—a white lace that clings to your skin, accentuating your curves. You aren’t trying to seduce him in the usual way; no, this is different. This is something deeper. You are offering him a part of yourself, a memory of you when the distance felt too much to bear.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the camera just so, making sure it has the right angle. This is the first time you are doing something like this, and a slight nervousness creeps in. But you push it down, telling yourself that Daemon would love it. After all, he appreciates the unconventional, the unexpected. You are certain this would be something that would make him smile when he was alone in some hotel room, far away.

The camera rolls as you lie back, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you imagine his reaction. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, arching your back slightly so the lace clung to you even more. You want him to feel your presence when he watches this. You want to be in his thoughts, every moment, every second.

What you didn’t realize was that Daemon was already closer than you thought.

Daemon is walking down the hallway when he hears a faint sound. He knows you are in the bedroom, but he hadn't expected this. Curiosity draws him closer, each step silent as he approaches the door. He peers through the crack, his heart beating slightly faster as he sees you lying there on the bed, dressed in nothing but lace and silk, the camera trained on you.

He grins. The look on your face—soft, sensual, and unaware—make something deep inside him stir. You have no idea he is watching.

His breathing slows as he leans against the doorframe, unable to avert his gaze. The way you move, the way the fabric of your underwear caresses your body, it's like a slow, seductive dance just for him. His eyes take in every detail, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of your skin, without you noticing his presence. He feels his desire stirring, his length twitching.

Daemon is just standing in the doorway watching you. Your eyes are closed as your fingers glide over your body and you sigh softly. Do you imagine that they are his fingers? He feels his member twitch slightly again, but he just watches you. Your fingers glide over the fabric of your panties and you sigh again. You press against the fabric and he knows you are pressing against your bundle of nerves. Your hips move slightly as your fingers glide over the fabric in circles. The camera captures everything, every sigh and soft whimper as your fingers pick up speed.

He knows it is wrong to just stand there, to not make his presence known, but a thrill ran through him. He lets himself enjoy the moment—before stepping forward, slowly, deliberately.

With a deep breath, Daemon walks into the room, his footsteps silent as he approachs the bed. They haven't noticed him yet, but the air has changed as soon as he walks further into the room.

The cool confidence in his stride, the intensity of his presence—it is impossible to ignore. Slowly, he enters the room and watches you closely, but you don't notice. “Are you already preparing for my absence?“ His deep voice suddenly sounds. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp, "Daemon!" You sit up slightly and breathe a little heavily. “No, no... don't let me disturb you, go on,” he encourages you with a small smile around his lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you!“ you pout a little. “Oh believe me, this is a surprise,“ he says and starts to unbutton his pants. “Daemon...” you start, but you can already feel the throbbing intensify between your thighs.

“And where did you dig that thing up?” he mumbles, while his pants slide down and he tilts his head in the direction of the camera. But you don't answer immediately, your attention is focused on his boxer shorts, which are already sliding towards the floor. His hardness springs free and the throbbing between your thighs becomes unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together. “I wanted you to have something to take with you on your business trip...“ you say, earning a chuckle from Daemon as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. ”Well, I could watch a video of me keeping you company instead,“ he mumbles and crawls onto the bed. ”What...?” you start, but then you understand, “Oooh…“ you say.

But then he grabs you by the back of your knees and pulls you towards him. You let out a small squeak, but you can't stop smiling. Your legs wrap around his waist as if by themselves and you pull him closer. His scent envelops you as you press your face into his neck – his growl fills the room as he grinds his length against your core.

Your teeth dig lightly into his skin as his hip grinds against you in rhythm. His eyes flashing with primal desire,“Get them off, ” he mutters. Slowly, torturously, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down your thighs, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

He tosses your discarded underwear aside carelessly. His large hands skim up your sides, pushing your lingerie up to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.

Leaning down, he captures one pebbled nipple between his teeth, suckling and nibbling as his fingers find your slick folds, stroking teasingly. "So wet already, just for me... I bet this tight little cunt is aching to be filled, isn't it baby?".

You just whimper, ending in a desperate moan, your back arching slightly as Daemon teases your nipple with his teeth and tongue.

He smirks wickedly at your breathy moan, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace

"Fuck, you're dripping, babe," he groans, curling his fingers to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. "This greedy cunt is sucking me in, like it never wants to let go."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub in tight, fast circles as he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers. Leaning down, he laves his tongue over your neglected nipple again before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, which makes you moan.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty noises," he demands huskily against your breast.

Releasing your nipple with a wet pop, he starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse point.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he moans and you whimper in reply, your hips moving against his fingers as you want to feel him deeper inside you.

He just smirks wickedly at your wanton response, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him, flushed and panting with need. Sliding his two long fingers deeper inside your dripping channel, he curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot within. Your pussy is dripping and you feel your walls flutter around his fingers. Daemon's teeth dig into the soft skin of your neck and you moan out again.

"Mmmm, such a responsive little thing you are," he groans approvingly, pumping his digits slowly. "Clenching so greedily around my fingers, like this greedy cunt is starving for my cock."

And in that moment, Daemon pulls his fingers out of your dripping heat. You whimper in protest and look up at him as he sits up slightly. He grins cheekily as he sees you lying there, breathing heavily and spread for him.

He fists his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, your slick on his fingers aiding the motion. You watch his long and thick manhood as he strokes it, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see a pearly bead of liquid forming at the tip, and you bite your lip in anticipation. He grunts as he fucks his fist, biting his lip as well as his eyes roam over your naked form.

He leans down again, letting the tip slide through your pussy and you whimper again as he thrusts shallowly against your opening. You try to push your hips towards him because you finally want to feel him inside you.

A stifled groan escapes his lips as you grind your folds against his cock.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, but then he gives in and you feel the stretch. You gasp as he penetrates deeper inch by inch. He growls as he feels your pussy clench and pushes deeper. The way your walls wrap around his shaft, drawing him deeper and deeper inside until his swollen tip presses against your cervix. You're so tight and wet, you're leaking all over his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he slides out almost completely and then pushes into you again. His thrusts get faster and harder, making you moan and gasp. His balls slap against your ass with every powerful thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix with more force and you cry out slightly. The bed creaks with every movement and your back arches slightly, wanting to feel him deeper. When Daemon suddenly grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You gasp and look at him, but before you can react, he slides back into your pussy. You moan and your eyes roll back into your head. Daemon growls, he feels your pussy fluttering around his cock. He thrusts deeper into your heat, leaning forward a little to make you scream. “Daemon!” you scream, and he grunts. He stretches you out, deepening the angle even more. “YES! Let me hear how deep you need it!” he grunts.

He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back in with full force, electrifying every nerve in your body and coaxing more sounds out of you. Your legs are still over his shoulder, he has a firm grip on you while he fucks hard into you. Tears form in your eyes as Daemon holds your thighs. His grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy start to milk his cock.

He can feel how close you are and his fingers glide to your clit. He rubs your clit wildly, playing with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, making you see stars while you clench hard around him. “Come on, come on my cock!” he growls and you whimper as he thrusts deeper and you can't hold back anymore. You come and feel your orgasm rush through your body as you moan. Your pussy clenching hard around his cock and he grunts. He slides in and out until he spills his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He cums hard, his cock throbbing inside you with abandon as he grunts and groans. Part of him delights in the thought of marking you, of filling you with a hot, sticky reminder of him.

His motion becomes sloppy and he growls until every drop is milked from his cock.

You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Daemon lets your legs slide off his shoulders before he leans down and kisses you. Almost gently, in contrast to the previous moment. After he breaks the kiss, your eyes fall back on the camera that has captured all this. But before you can say anything, you hear Daemon's hoarse voice. “Now I have a great video for those lonely moments,” he murmurs against your skin and you giggle slightly.