#i know its way too long but i love this part so

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (02)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a tease !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 01 ¡ 02 ¡ 03

yourusername

liked by sarahcameron, rafecameron and 1,129 others yourusername me and gf on a mermaids date  🧜‍♀️ 

view all comments

sarahcameron GF 🙈🙈🙈 most beautiful girl ive ever seen ↳ yourusername BABYYY ily

sarahcameron do you want to be my wife ↳ johnroutledge Uhm ↳ yourusername leave little boy she doesnt want you 🧏‍♀️

sarahcameron cant believe we met its been SO long ↳ yourusername still in shock could you kiss me to make sure this is real?  ↳ sarahcameron come to mama 💋 

ryanontop God your ugly ↳ yourusername you’re*… spell right you illiterate fuck ↳ ryanontop Fuck off it was a typo ↳ yourusername you know damn well!!!!

cleoanderson WAIT WHAT

kiecarrera ??? HUH

kiecarrera IM SO CONFUSED ↳ cleoanderson ME TOO ☹️ ↳ sarahcameron hey 👋  ↳ cleoanderson girl you both got some explaining to do ↳ yourusername trust me i was as shocked as you are 😓

popeheyward Insane ↳ yourusername PIPE down fella (get it ahahaha) ↳ popeheyward That wasn't funny ↳ cleoanderson be nice to my girl >:( ↳ popeheyward Baby you're supposed to defend me ↳ yourusername YEAHHH CLOCK THAT HO

jjmaybanks whats for supper  ↳ yourusername saltwater

user1 PRETTY!!!! 

user2 so lovely 🥹

user3 DRESS ATE DOWN ↳ yourusername YEAHH tryna impress the hoes ↳ ryanontop Crickets ↳ sarahcameron not cool Ryan. ↳ ryanontop Sorry Sarah Cameron.

rafecameron Hey 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 ↳ yourusername uhhh uhmm  ↳ rafecameron ??? What ↳ sarahcameron what are you doing here ↳ yourusername yeah get out of my comment section ↳ rafecameron I’m not even doing anything 

rafecameron Sarah looks like a duck  ↳ yourusername shes my little duckling 🐥  ↳ rafecameron Oh I didn't mean that in a cute way ↳ sarahcameron hey >:( ↳ yourusername insult my gf one more time and ill fuck you UP ↳ rafecameron Oh?  ↳ ryanontop Uhh  ↳ rafecameron Yo wsg baby ↳ yourusername flirt somewhere else please dont start sexting in my comment section ↳ rafecameron Awe man :( but it's way more fun in public ↳ yourusername pardon me! there's children in my comments, please refrain from having sex here ↳ rafecameron You're the one talking about sexting, not me...

Involving yourself with Rafe Cameron, whom you later found out was good friends with your brother, was definitely not a part of your plan. 

Spending the next two months with him meant coming to terms with your actions, perhaps take responsibility for the mess you created out of this situation. Had you further dug into his information, paid attention to the last name splattered across your screen, you would not have ended up in the bathroom, contemplating whether going downstairs was a good idea. 

Avoiding him could be an option right now, but you knew you'd have to face him one day, whether it was today, or another. And while he stayed oblivious to the incident, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flushed your face everytime his eyes would lock with yours.

You somehow spent the afternoon together, his lingering gazes leaving you a nervous mess every time his eyes fell on you. He’d stare at you for a few seconds, letting tension heave through the air, almost as if it was the most casual thing ever, as if he’s not your brother’s best friend, someone so off limits, forbidden to the touch. 

Besides that, it was nice, you got to spend more time with Sarah, catch up with the girl and everything you missed out on in the past few hours she was gone. It distracted you from your embarrassment, eternally grateful, because you don’t think you’ll be capable of spending another minute within Rafe’s presence without exploding. 

Taking a deep breath, you mustered up the courage to head downstairs, taking each step with haste. Sarah perked up when the hardwood creaked underneath you, causing you to come to a halt. Sarah called out your name, addressing you with the hand she waved in your direction, her excitement instantly replacing the frown spread across your face with a smile. 

“What took you so long?” Her lips jut into a pout, tucking her hair behind her ear. She welcomed you with open arms, chuckling when you accepted the embrace with a content hum “You know, I missed you.” 

“You were jus’ talking to me.” You muffled out, relaxing as the blonde rocked your bodies back and forth. 

“It’s not the same!” She exclaimed, pulling away for a moment. “It’s not everyday I get to see you in real life.” 

Ryan cleared his throat, in an attempt to earn yours and Sarah’s attention. To his satisfaction, he did, causing your gaze to shift back to the latter, instantly detecting the disgusted expression he had splattered across his face. 

“Can you save this for later, and please help me out?” Ryan questioned, making you roll your eyes. “You think I called you down so you could be all over each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sarah stuck out her tongue, teasing the latter from where she stood. 

You scrunched your nose, tensing when you sensed Rafe’s burning glare from the corner of your eyes. The boy’s glances were intense, almost as if he was staring at you for the purpose of undressing you with his gaze, and that, yeah, it never failed to knock a breath out of your chest, creating a flustered mess out of you. 

Sarah returned to her old position, standing behind the counter with you following in her steps, striving to see what they were up to. Your lips formed into an ‘o’ shape, peaking with interest when you noticed the deviled eggs Ryan was plating.

“That looks good,” you hummed, turning in Ryan’s direction, who conceitedly nodded, proud of the dish they had displayed on the counter. “Don’t people usually make these for thanksgiving, though?”

“That’s what I said!” Sarah agreed, giggling when Ryan grumbled, disapproving of your statement. 

“You’re acting like you’re not gonna eat them!” He elbowed your side, acknowledging you with his chin when you hissed, faking a pained expression. “Stop complaining and grab more plates, we need them for the mash potatoes.” 

“The only thing missing is the turkey, at this point.” You scoffed, mumbling to yourself, though Ryan could still hear you. “Where’s the plates?” 

“Uhh,” Sarah started, observing the cabinets behind you. She pointed to one of them with her finger, your eyes instantly following where her digit landed. “You can find some in there.”

With a nod, you shuffled to approach the stacked cabinets, aiming for the one Sarah was referring to. A groan instantly escaped your throat, gaze trailing up to the plates positioned on the top shelf. 

“Why on earth are these cabinets so high?” You whined, standing on your tippy toes to grab the dishes, merely to end up with nothing in your grasp. “And why are you putting plates on the top shelf?! None of you could reach them!” 

You extended your arm once again, stretching out your body in an attempt to seize the plates, losing your balance when you maintained the same position for a little too long, eventually failing to achieve what you were aiming for. 

Ryan mumbled a few words of complaints, rushing you to grab the plates faster, though he noticed that you were struggling, not offering to step in and help you. You paused for a second, calculating how you were going to capture the plates without asking for help, as that was a no in your watch. 

Right, you could use a chair, and although that was quite the embarrassment, it was the only option you had, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself. 

“Here, lemme try.” 

You tensed where you stood, breath hitching when Rafe shuffled behind you, his broad chest colliding against your back. Your vision blurred as you inhaled his scent, his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. 

Your gaze trailed up his arm, where it hovered over your shoulder, the brief contact sending goosebumps down your spine. And if you weren’t aware before, you definitely are now, enjoying the sight of him towering over you a little too much for your liking. 

The latter grunted as he reached for the plates, capturing them with a little difficulty. The sound instantly echoed through your ears, blinding you whole, that you had no right being this into it. Your mind wandered with thoughts you shouldn’t even ponder about, not as the boy was innocently stepping in to help, when your own brother couldn’t. 

“There you go.” Rafe muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He placed the plates on the counter in front of you, moving to catch sight of your reaction, chuckling when he noticed how flustered you were, mouth slightly parting with an exhale. “Did I startle you? Sorry, I was jus’ tryin’ to help.” 

“Right,” you said through a breath, blinking far too many times for your liking. “Thank you, I– that was really nice.” 

“Mhm.” He leaned his arm over the counter, admiring you with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He stood still for a moment, almost as if he was seeking something out of you, perchance a reply, if that was even appropriate in this situation.

“What?” You asked, cluelessly staring back at him, fingers clutching the plates you had in hand. 

“Could you hurry up!” Ryan interrupted, causing you to jolt from where you stood, leaving Rafe hanging as you headed in your brother’s direction. “The food’s about to run cold.”

“You could’ve helped me grab them, dickhead.” You scoffed, failing to keep your eyes to yourself as you stole a glance in Rafe’s direction, breath catching in your throat when you spotted him yet staring at you, with the same mischievous smile he had from earlier. 

He’s only helping, you’re acting like this because it caught you off guard, right? Fuck, you were totally screwed, how were you supposed to act normal when Rafe was behaving like a gentleman, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable, whether it’s him helping you grab the plates, or him offering you a drink with the scorching hot sun. 

Either way, this was bad, for your mental being, and the boundaries you created for yourself. It’s only been a day, what will happen in the next few weeks you’re spending with him? You don’t know, but what you do know is that they’ll be hell, tortuous, even.

Sarah passed you the pot of mash, politely asking you to plate it, making it hard for you to refuse the request. You did as told, doing it as neatly as physically possible, with Ryan nagging over your head, telling you to be more cautious in the process. 

You managed to get what you were asked for done, with the boy pestering you nonstop throughout it, creating a frustrated mess out of you. Rafe offered a helping hand, arranging the plates on the table, for each person they were serving. 

The elders came through the front door, having been gone for most of the time they’ve been here, excusing themselves for what you assumed was a business meeting. You embraced your mom in a hug, presenting the food to her with your free arm, snickering when she squealed, taken aback by all the food displayed on the table. 

Dinner was chaotic, filled with chatter and giggles as everyone bonded over the food, getting to catch up with each other. Ward was quite the man, and while you did dislike him, witnessing all the times he was harsh to Sarah, you couldn’t dodge his curious questions, not when everyone surrounding you thought of you as angel who wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

You kept to yourself for most of the time, amused by Sarah and Ryan arguing over who cooked each dish, fighting to claim their credit. And as for Rafe, well, he was there, sitting besides Ryan, who was across from you.

“You’re oddly quiet, Bug.” Sarah suddenly started, talking over the elders, who were chatting about business. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh, yeah!” You nodded, flashing her an endearing smile, one Sarah contently returned. 

“It’s only ‘cause there’s people around,” Ryan clicked his teeth, having heard the conversation. “Trust, she’s such a brat, don’t encourage her to keep talking, otherwise, she’ll never shut up.” 

“Can you not?” You muffled through gritted teeth, kicking his foot from underneath the table. “Could you also move? You’re all up in my space.” 

“That’s uh,” Rafe choked out, taking a sip off of the glass of water splattered across his side of the table. “That’s my leg.” 

You froze your spot, eyes widening with shock when you peaked under the table, discerning that it was Rafe’s leg you were kicking, Ryan’s far back positioned inches away from his chair. Sarah mimicked your action, chuckling when she caught sight of the ridiculous sight, entertained by the situation. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I thought you were Ryan.”

“It’s okay.” He dismisses, flashing you a gentle smile. “Sorry for ruining your uh– plans.” 

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryan jutted his lips into a pout, turning to glimpse at Rafe, whose face filled with concern. “You’re supposed to defend me. Why are you taking her side?” 

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, going along with the bit. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, cupping his face in a teasing manner. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry, I’ll be more cautious next time. Do you want a kiss, sweetheart?” 

Ryan nodded, nuzzling into the latter’s hand, letting his eyes fall shut when Rafe leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead. The mere sight made you sick to your stomach, with Sarah just as cringed out as you were, grumbling with detest.

Looks like you had some competition. 

“Can you not?” Sarah huffed, “We’re eating.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” Ryan shook his head with disappointment, withdrawing from the touch. Rafe agreed by nodding, patting Ryan’s shoulder before he got back to eating, acting as if that was the normalest thing they’ve done over dinner. 

Fancy plating was all fun and games until you had to do the dishes, and with the little work you did tonight, it did not look good on your watch. Ryan excused himself out of the list, with Sarah following behind, informing you that they made dinner, meaning it was your turn to do the dishes. 

Which, truth be told was fair, you totally understood where they were coming from, because if that was you, you would’ve done the same thing. 

“I’ll help out.” Rafe joined in, the suggestion creating a nervous mess out of you. 

That’s how you ended up in front of the sink, watching as plates piled up with every dish Rafe brought, instantly joining your side after he tidied up the table, wiping it clean to ensure a disinfected setting. 

Your contained giggles seeped through the silence, observing as Rafe clumsily scrubbed a plate, stumbling as it almost slipped from his hands. A sigh of relief escaped his parted lips, tightening his hold around it before it could further slither through his fingers. 

“You don’t need to do it.” You uttered, catching Rafe’s attention, who turned to face you with a smug grin spread across his lips, oblivious to the teasing smile you flashed him.

“Why?” He curled one of his eyebrows with confusion, scrubbing the plate with all his might, though it was past its limit. “Do you not want my help?”

“It’s not that,” you playfully rolled your eyes, rinsing off the excess soap. “It just looks like you’re struggling.” 

“‘That so?” He shot back, mimicking your action, copying your each move to make sure he’s doing it right. 

“Mhm.” You mused, letting silence linger through the air, atmosphere heaving with tension. 

“You know,” Rafe started, eyes glued to his gloved hands. “You’re different over text.” 

You almost drop the plate in your hand, caught off guard by the latter’s statement. Rafe maintained a blank expression, continuing what he was doing while you tensed in your spot, too dumbfounded to move, or respond. 

“I–” you stammered, abandoning the dishes piled in the sink, and focusing your whole attention on Rafe. “Why are you bringing that up?” 

“Should I not?” He questioned, stealing a swift glance in your direction as he cocked his head to the side, intrigued by how the conversation was flowing. “I mean, you did text me this morning, am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You said it yourself,” you started, suddenly feeling your throat go dry. “Ryan’s my brother, it would be best if we didn’t discuss this.” 

“Why not?” He muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like we’re doin’ anythin’ weird, y’know? I mean, you did leave an impression on me.”

“impression?” You repeated, jeered by his words as your mouth moved faster than your brain. “Did you know we’d be meeting here?” 

“Well,” he replied, rinsing off the soapy dishes. “I can’t say I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?” You whispered, afraid others would overhear your conversation. “Had you told me, I wouldn’t have continued speaking to you. Do you know how awkward things are now that you’re here?” 

“Why?” Rafe hushed out, pausing for a second, before he turned to face you, now leveling his face with your own. “Am I making you nervous?” 

Your throat ran dry, taken aback by the question. Was he flirting with you? And if not, why did it have such a big effect on you? Tolling you with temptation in ways you knew were impossible, out of reach, even. 

“What?” You uttered through a breath, face flushing with heat. “No– no it’s just–”

“I’m just messing.” He snickered, amused by how flustered you grew, stuttering to mutter a coherent statement out. 

“That wasn’t funny.” You grumbled out, fluttering your eyes at the latter, visibly embarrassed by the reaction the boy received from you. 

“Right.” He chuckled, not sounding convinced at all. 

The next few minutes filled with tension, as you both fell quiet, letting silence heave the air. Rafe didn’t seem as affected as you were, maintaining a blank expression the whole time you were a mess, too embarrassed to be in the boy’s presence, who seemed oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere he had created. 

You instantly excused yourself to your room afterwards, telling the boy you were sleepy, though it was too early for bed. You needed a moment to yourself, even if it meant lying through your teeth.

Besides, you weren’t the only one who was gone, as Sarah was nowhere in sight, disappearing once you were done. She was probably talking to her boyfriend, hence you know how clingy they were with each other. 

You took a quick shower, freshening up before bed, immediately followed with your skin care routine, playing soft music in the background while you did so. You dressed yourself in comfortable pajamas, instantly slipping under your covers, letting the warmness engulf your body whole. 

Your eyes droswed with sleep, after a few hours of scrolling through your phone, not noticing the time, only acknowledging how late it was when you received a notification that earned your attention. Your breath almost hitched as you opened the DM, caught off guard by who it was from. 

It was Rafe.

a/n THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT ON THIS WTH!! i wasnt expectingt it ily mwahh!! & just a little fyi this story will have more irl parts, it wont be solely sm based as i alr have stated in the beginning! it will definitely have social media, but im not abandoning the irl part of it yk 😣 that being said, feel free to lmk if you want to be removed/added to the taglist :) (in order to stay on it, you need to interact with the posts)

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bucky who starts a purely platonic physical touch giving friendship with reader… until it turns into more

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡  ｡✭･ﾟ

It starts off so innocently. Bucky just sat really close to you one day and noticed how the touch of your shoulder on his made him tingly all over.

The same happened when your hand brushed his, or you passed close by, and he caught a whiff of your hair - something that reminds him of the feeling he now seeks out when you’re around.

It’s no secret that either of you have been single a long time with basically no prospects for a future relationship, so no one questions when you and him suddenly hang out more.

He invites you over when you ask him if he was okay, and he realized that his day was in fact crappy and that if you offered to talk to him, he’d tell you all about it.

And when you sit on the sofa listening to Bucky talk, your hand instinctively found his and before Bucky knew it, his head was pressed into your shoulder, your nails raking over his scalp releasing a feeling within him, he can only describe as heavenly.

He loves it when you comfort him, and he loves comforting you, somehow knowing that you need this part of your friendship just as much as he does.

So it becomes a regular thing: when the rest of the team returns home to their spouses after a tiring mission, you and Bucky retreat to either one of your apartments under the pretense of not wanting to be alone.

Of course, neither of you planned for it to become so touchy and intimate... no, that would be insane, right?

It’s a normal afternoon for the two of you, hanging out at your place, a movie playing on TV, Bucky’s head buried in your chest as he lays half on top of you and you with your back against the sofa. Your hand rakes over his hair as his are halfway tugged beneath your body, seeking all the warmth he can get.

The physical touch aspect of your relationship has somehow crossed the lines between friends, but neither of you care. It feels too good to be held and protected to stop.

Bucky hasn't felt the caring touch of a partner in decades and you... well, let's just say that all men before Bucky didn't feel the need to express their love through aftercare - not that Bucky is in any way shape or form about to give said aftercare... no, you are just friends. Just. Friends.

Friends who frequently hide their hands in the other's jacket when the cold catches up to them.

Friends who bury their faces in each other's chest and lap like it is the most normal thing a person can do to another.

Friends who somehow always wonder if the other feels that spark ignite whenever they hold each other close.

Bucky feels the sensation when he's practically caging you beneath his upper body of the sofa. He lifts his head as he usually does to see if maybe this time he could magically hear your thoughts.

"What's up?"

He shakes his head. "I just really enjoy this." he mumbles and blushes, and your hand suddenly stops its path along his scalp.

"Me too." you smile and look into his eyes.

normally he'd put his head back, and you'd resume watching the movie, but something is different today.

maybe it's the way his hair looks perfectly tousled by your constant motions, or maybe it's the way he slowly blinks at you like a very comfortable pet.

but you finally find the courage to kiss him.

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[spatialwave]

"my ambition" - part three | the prequel

➸ pairing: jayvik x fem!reader ➸ word count: 4.5k ➸ tags: mdni! minimal nsfw, fluffly, poly relationship, relationship beginnings, blossoming love, s1 act 1, no mention of y/n, alcohol use. ➸ notes: so excited to get this out! had a fun time giving this relationship history and i spent way too much time overthinking whether the ending was too rushed or if it was too self-indulgent... and then i realized its a fic so i get to do what i want LOL! pls let me know if you would like more parts, or if you want some drabbles about this specific trio. i would really appreciate it.🥹

<- part 2

You had always been academically gifted. Rising to the top of your classes each semester, pushing aside anyone in your way. Especially for a young woman, who had been accepted into the Academy before you had even finished your secondary schooling – a gifted student with the proudest of parents and professors.

Born with an influx of ambition flowing through your veins, knowing from a young age your duties to the world. It took more than wordy false promises to make a difference to Runeterra, it took action. That’s why you vowed to help Zaun.

What better way to take action, than to help those who had been long forgotten about. You were smart enough to see the way the city had been tossed aside, forgotten about, while Piltover only continued to grow and thrive. There was sickness festering underneath, people dying because of the less-than living conditions and poverty that swallowed it whole.

There were many days when you wondered if it was too much, if you, as a topsider, could actually make a difference. Would anyone want your help? The bigger question being – how were you going to help?

Then, you met Viktor. 

That was when your ambition rose higher than ever. A smart, young man a handful of years older than you – a man from Zaun himself. The youngest assistant to the dean, a title that was hard to come by, and rather jealousy inducing.

You’d weaseled your way into his life quite easily, finding him in the halls and striking conversation whenever you could. He was polite, and good at slipping away when your attention became overbearing. You couldn’t help your over-excitement for a scholar from the undercity. Someone who matched your levels of ambition. Someone who was able to teach you about the place that had been nothing more than whispers and off-hand comments by your peers.

You fell in love. Quickly, and hard.

Viktor, too. It was your smile, your innate excitement, the genuine intrigue you had of him and how he was able to share the experiences of chronic illness with someone who wasn’t just a damned doctor – someone who understood the pain. How could he not fall in love?

Viktor found himself appreciating you more and more with each passing day, wondering when you’d sneak through the halls to find him to share your newest revelation.

Wondering when he could be expected to be pulled into a broom closet so you could ravage his lips with your own. He hadn’t been so experienced with romance until you appeared in his life, content with focusing on his studies at the academy. You changed the trajectory of his life—and so had Jayce.

-

”Hextech?” You raised an eyebrow, sitting on a stone bench within the academy courtyard and holding a half-eaten apple in your hand, “I don’t know. Sounds… unstable,” you murmured honestly, looking between Viktor’s eyes as he stood in front of you. You took another bite, the sweet flavour calming you.

You had to admit, as much as you were uncomfortable with this new scientific breakthrough, so to speak, you had never seen Viktor quite this excited about anything.

“Precisely,” Viktor said, eyes practically shimmering as he spoke to you, “that’s why you’re going to help.”

“No way,” you huffed, standing on your feet and waving him away, “you just told me that all the work got confiscated, how the hell would I even help?” You spoke in a hushed whisper, as if Heimerdinger himself was listening in to the conversation.

“Eh, confiscated is a loose term,” he said, taking a step toward you, a gentle hand on your shoulder. You tensed at the touch, turning your head from his gaze and shaking your head adamantly.

You had morals, and perhaps you listened to the dean a bit too much at times. Science was incredible, but ethics were important, and the explosion was proof that it was an unpredictable type of magic. If Heimerdinger made the call that hextech was unsafe, a yordle with decades over your own experiences, then you should listen, no?

“It has the capabilities of helping more than just the city,” he urged, fingers tightening on your shoulder, “Please. Let us show you.”

Those words tugged at your heartstrings, leaving you conflicted as your heart yearned to know more. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily as your mind reeled at all the possibilities.

The first image to pop in your mind was the proper union of Zaun and Piltover, an incredible feat that no one could ever pull off. No more distinction between the two – just one beautiful place to live. Your dream.

Could hextech really be the key?

“Fine,” you sighed, crinkling your nose and opening your eyes, “but I’m under no obligation to like this Jayce guy, he sounds like he doesn’t know how to properly take care of his research.” You looked up at Viktor through your lashes, watching the way the corners of his lips curved into a small smile, “Why are you smiling like that?”

—

“Crank it!” Jayce exclaimed from his chair, eyes full of childlike wonder, as Viktor stood at the chalkboard, crossing through equations and murmuring about the research he was still properly acquainting himself with.

You, however, stood next to Jayce, chewing hard on your bottom lip as your partner agreed with his words.

It all seemed fine, plausible, even. Yet, you remained apprehensive.

“And it if it doesn’t stabilize, what then? Part two of the great blue explosion that destroyed your apartment?” You asked, eyes focusing on the man sitting, his honey-coloured eyes shining as they watched you. Your stomach twisted tight, hating the way he made you fill with butterflies.

You knew him for less than twenty-four hours, and he already had you twisted around his fingers. Gods.

It was completely unfair to be caught between them both.

“It’s worth a test,” he was adamant, then a sigh left his lips, “but we don’t have access to my equipment.”

“Which is being destroyed tomorrow,” Viktor murmured, eyes back on the chalkboard and fingers touching his chin as he was lost deep in thought.

You jumped when Jayce stood quickly, the chair he sat on nearly toppling over.

“What?” he asked, panic rising in his throat.

“Oh, yeah,” Viktor cringed, looking over his shoulder at Jayce, “Sorry. I meant to tell you.”

You could sense the way Jayce was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, his breath hitching in his throat as he rambled on about how it was his life work, how they could show the council the equations to show them the proof. There had to be something!

But Viktor was right, proof wasn’t reliable on paper. They needed physical proof. A real test.

“We can’t do it without the crystals. The enforcers took them all, they’re gone,” Jayce ran his hands over his face as he collapsed onto the chair once more, deflated from the situation.

Your hand rested atop his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, much like Viktor did with you when you were overworked. Jayce flickered his gaze to you, those puppy-like eyes offering a silent ‘thank-you’.

“Mhm,” Viktor hummed, “locked away in Heimerdinger’s lab,” he continued, eyes settling on you.

“No,” you were quick to know where he was going with this, “Count me out, we are not breaking in.”

“She’s right,” Jayce said, eyes widening, “you heard the council, if we’re wrong–”

“Better be right then,” Viktor interrupted, and Jayce’s eyes sparkled with possibility.

You felt a tightness in your chest, shaking your head as you took a step back. The two of them spoke back and forth, but you hadn’t been listening. Just as you reached the boiling point, you turned on your heels and took a step away, but Jayce was quick to turn his attention back to you. He stepped forward, hand grabbing your wrist, and you felt your heart jump up into your throat.

“Stay,” he pleaded, hand tightening.

You huffed a loud sigh through your nostrils, brows creasing together and lifting. Gods, why did he have to be so goddamned charming? You hardly noticed the curious look that Viktor gave you two before rolling his eyes and turning back to the chalkboard. The smirk on his lips well hidden.

“Fine!” You snapped, pulling your arm from his grip, “but if we get caught I’m telling everyone that you two made me do it. I am not taking the fall for this.”

Jayce grinned, a toothy smile that lit your cheeks aflame, “Deal.”

You stayed a few feet behind the two men, arms crossed over your chest, as you careened through the halls quietly. You were hardly a rule breaker, in fact, usually a stickler for keeping peace. It was in your nature, like many topsiders.

When the three of you reached the door, you felt panic rising as footsteps echoed down the hall from where you had just come from.

“Shit,” Jayce whispered, “hurry.”

Viktor was fiddling with the keys, fingers filtering through them until he found the one for Heimerdinger’s lab. With practiced ease, he slipped the key into the door lock, twisting back and forth until it clicked.

Both you and Jayce were standing side-by-side, watching a flashlight in the distance, pointing in your direction, but too far to pick up on the three figures breaking in.

Viktor opened the door, and they stepped inside, but you were frozen. Unable to tear your gaze away from the enforcer that had been doing patrols and walking right toward you.

“Ah!” You gasped when there was a harsh tug on your arm, stumbling into the laboratory and crashing against Jayce’s chest. Viktor closed the door behind you without even the slightest creaking – a perfectly silent entrance.

“You've never broken a rule in your life, have you?” Jayce smiled, eyes watching you with curiosity as you pulled away from him yet again. You opened your mouth to answer but Viktor cut you off.

“She is a law-abiding citizen,” he answered, supporting himself on his cane as he walked further into the lab, looking around for the confiscated equipment.

“Can you guys keep it down? They’ll hear us.” You whispered, pushing past Jayce. Annoyed, and thankful the redness on your cheeks wasn’t visible in the darkened room.

“Huh,” Jayce grinned in response to Viktor, walking behind you as he looked around the lab, “you’re not kidding.”

“Shut up.” You hissed.

Settling in the lab, you stood off to the side, peering at some of Heimerdinger’s books as Jayce scrambled to find the pieces of his work. You listened to the sounds of the electrical whirring as he welded the parts back together, lost in thought as your fingers traced over the spine of a book.

A hand lifted to the small of your back, startling you for a moment.

“Sorry,” Viktor murmured, eyes watching you.

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, smiling as you leaned against him. Silence grew between you two as you slowly dropped your hand from the bookcase. You glanced at Viktor, biting down on the inside of your lip in habit, “Do you think hextech really has the strength to help people? Like us?”

Those honey-eyes softened as they flickered over your nervous expression, and he nodded, “I do.”

With a deep inhale, you tried to let go of your apprehension to the situation. This was for the best. If you wanted to reach your dreams, you had to run over a few toes, right?

“It’s all here,” Jayce called from his spot at the table, pulling the goggles off of his face and turning to look over at you two.

Viktor held up a blue hextech crystal to you, one from the handful that was confiscated, and when you offered him a questionable look, he insisted with the forward movement of his hand. Slowly, you reached out and took it in your fingers, feeling the rigid orb press against your skin.

This was it.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before making your way to Jayce, who had been looking at you two with a small smile.

“Here,” you said, offering the crystal with an open palm as you stood next to him, Viktor coming up beside you.

Jayce reached out, taking the crystal, but not without a lingering touch to your hand. Viktor took notice, a sparkle in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed as you watched in curiosity as the hextech crystal was placed into the machinery.

It glowed a bright blue hue, sparks from the crystal illuminating the room. You had never seen anything so beautiful.

“It’s time to crank it!” Viktor said excitedly as he snapped close one of Jayce’s notebooks he had spent time looking through the past few days, looking in front of you and toward Jayce.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He asked, growing uncertain as Viktor sucked back a breath and shook his head.

“Do it,” you interjected, eyes wide as you stared at the beauty of the hextech. The inner scientist in you couldn’t be tamed any longer, you needed to see what this could do. It was almost addicting, and you couldn’t look away. It had sucked you in completely, “you have to try.”

They shared a look between each other, swallowing lumps down their throats. Viktor leaned forward, pressing the button of the machine, and it began to spin. It gained enough speed that it created a constant blow of wind that pushed your hair back wildly – electric currents flying wildly.

“I don’t think it’s going to hold!” Jayce said loudly, the electrical crackling of the machine deafening all other noses, “look at the buildup!”

“The resonance will stabilize it, trust me,” Viktor returned, sharing a thoughtful look with Jayce, an attempt to calm him.

You, however, were unable to look away. You stared at the wild glows of blue, a smile on your face, and blissfully unaware of the enforcers that were making their way up to the laboratory after seeing the blue light shining from the windows of the lab.

Moments later, the chaos settled, and you gasped with a big smile, hands slamming on the tabletop, “this is incredible!” You exclaimed in awe, watching as it stabilized.

Viktor smiled to himself, his hand finding your back yet again, “told you it would work,” he said encouragingly, eyes flickering to Jayce, “all yours.”

“It’s never done that before,” he murmured to himself, unable to tear his gaze from the slowly spinning crystal that sent waves of electricity to the surrounding runes, “...alright. Here we go.”

Hesitantly, he reached to the button Viktor had pressed, twisting the knob several times, so the surrounding runes began to spin and orbit the crystal.

You watched expectantly as Jayce twisted it over and over, creating different pathways for the crystal to spark energy. You couldn’t help but lean closer, even when the out flowing electricity stung your cheeks.

What the three of you hadn’t expected was a surge of energy to blast out, nearly toppling you all and breaking the lab’s windows. Within the impact, you fell right into Jayce with a yelp. Strong arms wrapped around you as he reached for the knob, and you clung to him, face buried into his chest.

The energy was strong, and for a moment you prepared for the untimely death of three scientists who just wanted to change lives. How fitting.

Then, the glass from the window flew back into place, as though time around you reversed, causing a brief moment of respite and enough time for Jayce to push forward and slam his hand on the button. The crystal fell back into place, and you were all able to breathe.

Slowly, you peeled yourself away from Jayce, feeling around your face and body to make sure your body was still completely intact.

“Incredible,” Viktor beamed, smiling, “we need to try again.”

You and Jayce shared a look, silently agreeing that it was now or never. And for you, there was no more backing out.

This time, you took a few steps back, not wanting to be caught up in the aftermath of a worse explosion, but still curious enough to peek over their shoulders. As you settled back, you swore you heard sounds coming from the hallway, but it was hard to tell over the crackling sounds of the hextech.

Pressing your ear against the door, you closed your eyes to focus, and you gasped.

“Someone’s coming,” you told them, hands holding the doorknob tight, “you better hurry.”

Viktor took a few steps to the door, sliding his cane through the handles of the door so it was snug, “better than nothing.”

The two of you shared a startled gasp, the rattling of the door loud when the enforcers reached the door and began to hit it with force, kicking and yelling for you to open up. Heimerdinger was with them.

“Stop this lunacy at once!” He called from beyond the door, and your gut twisted in guilt.

A few more heavy kicks and the door creaked.

“They’re almost through,” Viktor said, turning around back to Jayce’s side, “no pressure.”

“That sounds like pressure!” Jayce yelled, working hard to synchronize the runes with the knob. He looked over his shoulder at you, who was now pressing against the door with your weight. With each kick of the door, you huffed, doing your best to keep them from pushing it in.

A rather heavy kick caused you to stumble, but you got right back to it, watching over your shoulder as Jayce closed his eyes and focused on the hextech. 

Your attention was pulled back to the door when the cane cracked, and you tried to push against the door, but it was no use. One more kick and you’d be goners.

But the hextech won.

The sound of another surge pushed you against the door, and you panicked at the intensity that felt like it was going to crush you, and then suddenly… you were weightless. You turned to Jayce and Viktor, eyes wide, as you all had begun to float up into the air.

After one more kick, they broke inside, but the surge reached them, too. They stumbled back, while you had started laughing.

It was incredible, absolutely incredible.

“Excuse me, underfoot,” Heimerdinger spoke, pushing past the enforcer and stepping inside his lab, gasping when his eyes landed on you three.

You were nearly touching the ceiling, floating with your belly to the ground and caught slowly spinning between Jayce and Viktor. Your giggles erupted into a fit of laughter, unable to control it as you twisted around in the air. 

Jayce flicked a piece of metal, where it floated through a glowing blue orb that was just above you, and it shot out right at Viktor. You collectively gasped, taking everything in.

This was magic and science blurred together, a medley of perfection. Hextech worked. You did it!

“Will you please stop hovering?” Heimerdinger spoke, looking up as you spun your body around, touching and prodding at debris.

It was like swimming, you were able to push yourself, and you accidentally collided against Jayce, the two of you sharing a laugh. You couldn’t quite place it, but as your eyes caught his, you felt something – like a mutual intrigue of each other. Was attraction too strong of a word? Your cheeks reddened, matching his own, then he cleared his throat and turned his gaze away.

“I’m not sure how to do that, sir,” Viktor finally responded, pushing toward you both and smiling as the three of you moved around together smoothly, not touching. Floating. Feeling free.

Like all things in life, it didn’t last. The surged power of the hextech settled, and thankfully it was a smooth descend that kept you three from any broken bones.

Viktor had been wrangled by Heimerdinger, only after a good verbal lashing that included you and Jayce. Blabbering about the rules, ethics and how dangerous this was. At the end, your partner had been whisked away for damage control, trying to explain everything and to keep any of you three from penalties and punishments.

It left you and Jayce to clean up, gathering everything together into the back area of the lab, still in awe over everything that had happened.

Once finished, you stepped out into the brisk night air first, somehow still chipper enough to bounce down the steps while Jayce hustled behind you. You hadn’t been so inclined to do goodbyes, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist, much like earlier. It sent a shiver up your arm.

“Wait,” he said, and you faced him, battling the redness that crept up your neck as you tried to remain composed, “will you stay?” he asked, grip loosening on your wrist, “to help us, I mean.”

“With the hextech? Of course,” you answered, rolling your eyes playfully, “Who in their right mind would see that and not want to explore it? That was incredible, Jayce. You should be really proud of yourself.”

A smile lifted at the corners of his cheeks, the compliment doing wonders to the insecurities that lie deep within him.

“Wanted to make sure,” he eventually said, dropping your wrist as you both ventured away and into Piltover, toward your homes, “I like you. Well, I mean – you’re good to have around. Smart, you know.”

A giggle bubbled up, a hand lifting to your mouth to try to stifle it, “you’re a dork, just like Viktor.”

Jayce smiled at you, biting down on his bottom lip as the two of you ventured down the streets together, “how long have you two been together?”

The question was quick to fluster you as you met Jayce’s curious gaze. You wondered if the question accidentally slipped out, and you could ignore it, but you could tell he was waiting for an answer.

“Oh, uh, just a couple of months. Officially.” You answered shyly, hands clasped behind your back as you walked side-by-side.

“That’s nice,” he murmured, “...so, has he always been so absurdly intense about science? Don’t get me wrong, I like everything about his ambitions, he’s a great guy for even wanting to help me. He’s just—“

“Surprisingly eccentric?” You laughed, nodding, “when he gets excited about something, it’s like his brain goes haywire. I suppose that’s the way of being an ambitious innovator”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Jayce smiled, quietly admiring you in the moonlight. Studying and memorizing everything he could.

The two of you ended up walking around aimlessly, indulging in small chatter as you shared your hopes and dreams. You shared nearly everything you could about your life, and he told his story about him and his mother, and how that sparked his discovery towards hextech. It was easy to talk to Jayce, to get lost in his voice – he was just so damned kind.

Nearly an hour passed when you finally approached your apartment, which was rather close to the Academy. The two of you had simply taken a few detours around the neighbouring streets.

“Trust me, if you want to get on the dean’s good side, then you need to…” your voice drifted off when your eyes settled on a certain individual sitting outside on a stone bench. Broken cane in his hand and looking up at the sky. “Viktor!” You called out, rushing ahead, “if I had known you were coming back to mine, I would’ve hurried back.”

He turned to look at you two, raising a curious eyebrow and smirking as Jayce slowed his pace behind you, “I have only been here a few minutes, it’s all right.”

You dug around for your keys in your pocket, walking up to him and outstretching an arm for support as he stood. He could walk relatively okay without his cane, but you still enjoyed the way he would lean on you. It became habitual between you two.

“I should leave you both to it,” Jayce cleared his throat, giving an awkward wave as you two ventured toward the apartment.

“Why don’t you come in?” Viktor asked, motioning for him to follow.

You looked up at him in interest, figuring the two of you would be falling asleep the moment you got inside. Nonetheless, you went along with it.

“No, no, it’s late. I don’t want to overstay–”

“Come inside, Jayce. We don’t bite.”

Viktor was convincing enough, or perhaps Jayce had too much of a soft spot for him because he was quick to accept the invitation.

It ended up being a great night, the three of you crowding around your kitchen table. Drinking some nicely aged wine you had hidden away for only the most important occasions. You celebrated your shared success and discussed everything hextech, the possibilities and what you hoped it would provide. You shared laughs, especially as the night went on, and you had all begun to feel a bit delirious at times as the sun began lighting the sky above the horizon and the wine settled in your stomachs.

“Well, I hate to be the one to end the night,” you smiled, sleep beginning to win its war over you, “I’m tired and sore, I should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I should get back to mine, or, what’s left of it,” Jayce agreed with a dampened chuckle, eyes flickering out of the window to gauge the time with the colour of the skyline.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” The question fell from your lips much too quickly, unsure if it was your overt politeness or an underlying desire that lead it, “if you’re okay with that.” You shot your gaze to Viktor.

It felt like hours, but the few seconds you took to share a look said lots. A silent agreement about your shared feelings for Jayce.

“Sure,” he answered. A shy smile tugged at your lips, and your lover turned back to Jayce.

The man seemed a bit uncertain, and maybe a bit too tipsy to understand the looks thrown at him. His amber eyes jumped between you two, “I’ve intruded far too mu–”

“Stay.” Your voice mixed with Viktor’s almost too perfectly, in complete synchronization.

“Okay.”

The night became a blur. It was Viktor who had led you both to the bedroom, the wine clouding all judgment from the three parties and allowing you to just be. To indulge in each other without wondering what would come next. To allow yourselves to act on attraction and lust with nothing holding you back.

“I’m glad you stayed,” you murmured, lips lingering along the stubble on Jayce’s jawline. Viktor, who was behind you, peppered kisses along your bare shoulders.

“Me too,” Jayce breathed in response, hands careening your naked body and intertwining with Viktor’s fingers with they met over your hip.

“Let’s stop talking,” Viktor mumbled with a quick nip at your skin, the confidence in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Jayce wasn’t quite certain how he managed to be wrangled in by you both, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when, for once, everything felt right.

[yoyomomiko]

Hello so I have a Daisuke x reader request if you don't mind! I loved the make out story you did and so if you don't mind Daisuke and reader making out an Daisuke bitting HARD on reader skin like this 😨 hard so hard that the EVERYONE could notice it and how it go to that point like if you don't mind

You don't have to do! If you don't want! Have a nice day!

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader

Warnings: BITING; marking; hickeys, SUGGESTIVE (kinda nsfw, so mdni I guess??), cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): I had a little bit too much fun writing this😨 THIS IS SO GROSS AND CRINGE WHAT DO I DO😣 Btw I like, haven't posted a fic in so long lol, I'm really sorry and all, I'm a bit late🤠 -> m.list

Daisuke's hands were both on opposite sides of your head, your legs wrapped around his waist and hands thrown loosely over his shoulders.

His lips were pressed to yours in a deep, heated kiss. He gently bit your bottom lip, as if asking for you to open your mouth. You let out a soft gasp and slowly parted your lips, his tongue immediately finding its way inside and twirling around with your own.

After a few moments, he pulled away, panting. You were breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down as you stared at him, watching him gaze back at you with love filling his eyes. You adored the way his hair fell down and over his face most of the time when he was looking down at you, when you were in the same exact position as you were in right now.

Daisuke smiled at you, his face burying into your neck as he started leaving soft kisses down to your shoulder. You chuckled at the ticklish sensation, with the way his lips barely hovered onto your skin, lightly pressing kisses. One of his hands went to hold onto your waist, the other supporting him.

His gentle kisses slowly turned to sucking, earning whines from you. He left a few faint red marks on your shoulders that would surely fade away in a few hours, luckily not too visible.

Daisuke trailed his kisses to your jaw, your hands tangling in his hair. All of the sudden, he bit down on your neck, digging his teeth into your skin and drawing out a yelp from you as you pulled on his hair. He gently licked the mark, sucking to soothe the pain.

Daisuke pulled back as he chuckled, staring down at you with nothing but joy in his eyes. He admired his work, eyes scanning over the faint red splotches, until he came upon the one he just gave you a few seconds prior. It slowly turned into a dark purple spot, right on your upper neck, on display to anybody passing by.

"Sorry." He smiled at you, to wich you raised a brow in confusion.

"You might need to cover that up." He added, nuzzling his face into your neck as you slowly came to the realization that yes, he did leave a noticeable mark.

"I thought we talked about where you place your kisses." You sighed out, fighting a smile at his stupidity.

"We did?"

You shook your head, knowing it was pointless. Just how would you walk around the ship now?

...

...

You thought you were slick enough.

You pulled your uniform collar a bit higher, covering over the mark perfectly.

What you didn't know, was that if you even tilted your head slightly, it would be completely evident.

...

...

CURLY

You were hurrying out of Daisuke's room, hoping not to be seen by others, scanning the area and making sure no one was there.

You fixed up your hair a bit, pulling the collar of your uniform higher.

Your shoes tapped on the floor, rushing through the hallways. You weren't even looking up ahead, eyes glued to your feet.

You raised your head just in time to prevent yourself from crashing into your captain, forcing your legs to stop abruptly.

You smiled nervously, looking at him and giving a short nod as a greeting, to wich he reciprocated.

Although his eyes seemed to linger on you for a while longer, his brows furrowing as he studied you.

"You okay?" He asked, his expression one of curiosity and hesitance.

"Yeah... Why wouldn't I be?" You replied, your brow arching in confusion.

"No reason... Carry on." He nodded, giving an unsure smile as he walked away, leaving you dumbstruck.

...

It HAD to have been a hickey. He knew it too well. He was aware of how one looked like... But that mark specifically looked more like teeth marks to him. As if someone bit down onto you.

Curly was a bit perplexed. He didn't remember there being a rule against relationships among the crew... But then again, who was it?

His suspicion was aimed at Daisuke, since you two are in close age range and always hang out together.

JIMMY

Your feet dragged on the floor lazily, humming to yourself on your way to meet Anya.

Just then, you saw Jimmy walking towards your direction. You didn't like Jimmy.

You almost rolled your eyes, but you gave a quick wave so he doesn't think you're an asshole.

He gave a nod back, before stopping briefly to look at you. He stared you down, eyes going wide and a frown forming on his lips.

"What the hell happened to you?" He asked in disgust, studying you.

You raised a brow as you tilted your head to the side in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and shook his head, looking straight ahead again.

"Nevermind... slut." He mumbled the last part, chuckling as he walked away.

You swore you heard him insult you, but you just didn't hear him well enough, therefore there was no evidence.

...

He knew DAMN WELL.

Fingers pointed proudly at Daisuke.

Jimmy always had a feeling you two were a bit TOO close, not co-workers type of close, neither friends type of close.

He just didn't expect the dumbass to have a chance, let alone manage to get into your pants.

ANYA

After all of those uncomfortable encounters and awkward situations, you finally stopped in front of the medical room, where Anya was currently working.

Before you could enter, Anya herself came out of the room, a bit surprised to see you there as she flinched, before smiling quickly.

"Oh, you scared me..." She spoke, her eyes studying your face before they stopped at a specific spot.

Her brows furrowed a little, seeming concerned.

"Are you alright?" She asked, thinking it was maybe a rash, or possibly even allergies.

"Hm? Why wouldn't I be?" You questioned, squinting your eyes at her.

Everybody's been acting weird today...

Anya's eyes widened for a brief second as she took a closer look, her lips parting before they shut closed. She felt a weird burning feeling through her chest, and her mind just fogged up. Did something bad happen to you?

But you seemed happy... Maybe a little tense, but happy nonetheless. She thought back to all the times she's caught you and Daisuke in each other's rooms, brushing it off as just "friends talk", or all the times she's seen you two chatting a bit too smug in the hallways, also every single time she's heard you two flirt with each other. The corners of her mouth were fighting for life, trying to hold back a smile.

"No, nevermind, I think you should check up on that." She suggested, patting your shoulder and walking past you.

"Wait, I wanted to tell you something!"

"Check up on Daisuke while you're at it..." She whispered to herself, letting out a quiet giggle.

Your brows raised, lips forming a thin line. Just what the hell was going on?

...

It was hard to believe that YOU would actually do such a thing. She just couldn't think of her friend doing stuff like this.

She knew all too well it was Daisuke.

Another thing is that she was incredibly shocked at the fact that Daisuke managed to leave such a mark on you, she pondered for a while and came to the conclusion that it must've hurt like hell.

SWANSEA

You felt weird, getting scanned by your crew members' eyes and maybe even judged by some.

So why not try and find Daisuke, pretty much the only person who know how to comfort you best?

Of course, he'd be with Swansea.

You opened the door, but your boyfriend wasn't there, only the same grumpy man.

"What do you want?" Swansea asked, before turning to look at you.

"Just looking for Daisuke." You replied, taking a quick glance around the room.

"Are you okay?" He asked, squinting his eyes at you.

"Everyone's been asking me that, I don't get it!" You didn't bother responding, your brows furrowing as you started getting a bit irritated.

"Pull up your collar or something. Damn animals..." He muttered that last part, going back to his work as you stood there in utter shock.

So that's what was wrong.

...

Swansea already knew it. All too well.

Daisuke was just praising you so much, talking his ear off, mentioning every single detail you had.

Since the airhead can't keep secrets too well, he managed to accidentally spill it out one day.

But it wasn't like Swansea didn't know, he's caught you two together a couple of times, he just never talked about it.

...

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tugged harshly on your collar to pull it up, wanting the ship to crash right at this moment.

Screw you Daisuke. Screw your boyfriend for embarrassing you in front of everyone.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[madaqueue]

EPISODE 3: A TASTE OF HONEY IN DEFEAT

satoru thought he would have no problem winning a bet he proposed, but a month is too long to go without a taste of anything this sweet.

themes/content: smut. edging, handjobs, mean-ish dom!reader, satoru being whiney lmao, premature ejaculation + he cums inside, light bondage (satoru receiving). (wk: 2.1k)

a/n: this is part of @luv-lies no-nut-november collab!!! so excited to have been a part of this, hope you all enjoy >:3

“You know I trust you, but don’t you think the ropes are a bit much?” Satoru giggles as you tighten the final knot around his wrists, shoulders bulging and arms stretched overhead.

“I know you trust me - it’s you I’m worried about, ‘Toru.”

“What, worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?” The smirk painting his features veers into a grimace as he winces, straining against the tightening rope.

“No. I’m worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself.”

Pink lips draw into a pout. “Aw c’mon, you know I’ll be good! I’m the one who made this bet in the first place, remember?”

You hum as you tug his hands down, testing the strength of the woven cerulean adorning his skin. The headboard shakes with the movement.

“And yet, you were so willing to break the rules.”

It had been quite a sight, truly - your dear Satoru, splayed across the bed, whimpers and moans falling from his lips like honeyed rain. They landed heavy in your ears, sticky and sweet. When the door creaked open, he made no effort to stop the fervent motions of his fist up and down his cock. He was flushed from head to toe, too lost in his own pleasure to recognize the sound of your footsteps approaching. It was only when your hand rested atop his that he jerked up, clouded eyes turning apologetic.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to, I know, I just couldn’t wait-” he had babbled.

“It’s okay,” you purred, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But you knew the deal, remember? I’m the only one allowed to touch you this month, right, Satoru?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-”

“And how close you were to cumming, too.”

“I wasn’t going to, I swear-”

You hummed and squeezed his base, earning a gasp. “You know it’s not good to lie, either. Remember, you made this bet, sweetheart. Were you really so willing to throw it all away? To lose?”

“I wasn’t going to lose, I promise, I just needed something-”

He was getting worked up, panicked thoughts racing through his mind. He braced on his forearms to sit up, but with a purposeful push you guided him back onto the sheets.

“It’s okay, my love. If my poor baby is so needy, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you something.”

His eyes widened when you pulled the ropes from under the bed, eyeing him like your next meal, a starving predator ready to pounce. And here was your prey, so ready for the taking, offering himself to you as a good piece of meat should.

And now, he’s tied up like one, too.

“I wasn’t even going to break the rules,” he whines impatiently.

Sitting back, you admire your work: your strong, determined Satoru spread and waiting. Trailing a finger down his stomach, his skin burns hot in its wake.

“That’s certainly not what it looked like to me.”

“I-”

“Because to me, it looked like you couldn’t handle going even a month without touching this needy little cock of yours.”

He pouts. “I’m not little,” he huffs.

A giggle bubbles from the back of your throat, bouncing past your lips.

“And besides, I can handle it, I swear! I made it almost the whole month, I did, I just-”

Tilting your head, you gaze down at him. “What, got too desperate? Poor Satoru, ‘The Strongest,’ couldn’t even follow the rules of a bet he made?”

Blue flashes against white as he rolls his eyes. One hand ruffles his hair, cooing down at him.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll make you beg to break this silly little bet of yours.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, hiding the way pink creeps up his neck and decorates his cheeks, stained like flower petals. He’s soft like them, too.

A light chuckle lands in the air when your palm grazes up his length. He twitches in your hold, warm skin on warm skin.

“H-hah, see?” His mouth hangs open between the words. “Told you I could handle it.”

It’s gentle touches at first, to ease him into it: slow strokes, light fingers. And yet, he’s still wrapping his throat around whimpers.

“Aw baby, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Your lips curl into a smile, breath hot behind them. The words come out syrupy, dripping in sugar (and Satoru has always had a sweet tooth). His stomach aches in hunger - hunger for your hands, your body, your control. Whatever you plan to do to him, he’ll swallow it whole, bigger and bigger bites until his cheeks swell and all he can taste is you.

The grip around his base tightens, running up and down. Something about your skin is so much softer than his, untainted by the cruelty he lives through, only dirtied by desire. It spreads over his skin, glistening white and sticky.

When whines begin to twist through the silence, his eyelashes fluttering to bat away the impending tears, he doesn’t have to say it - he’s close.

Just as his muscles begin to tense, you rip your hand away.

There’s a choked little cry he lets out, hurt like an animal you spared from death. One that was ready for it, for the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is strained already, a high-pitched draw across his vocal cords. His eyes are sparkling and wet.

A peck to his cheek sends shivers down his spine. “Because you’re not supposed to finish, remember, silly? I’m just helping you hold up your end of the bet, after all.”

A sound like untuned violins, haunting and beautiful all the same, plays from his throat. You giggle at the music.

“C’mon, Toru - you wanted this, remember?”

“I know,” he grumbles, scrunching his nose. “Fine, fine, do whatever you want.”

You smile.

(You would have anyways)

Your gaze falls upon the aquamarine rope, the matching eyes, before trailing back down his steadying chest.

It stutters when your fingers trace up the veins of his cock.

It heaves when you cup a palm around his balls.

You squeeze.

“F-fuck,” he groans, hips lifting off the bed.

There’s a word living at the tip of his tongue, its shape burning into his mouth.

Harder.

Luckily, you know your Satoru - you know what he thinks, feels, wants. And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

The sound he makes is garbled and choked, utter nonsense. It came straight from the depths of his body, a pure animalistic response, one he couldn’t have controlled if he tried.

Already, he’s beginning to tremble in your palm - it’s getting easier to do this, make him shake like a lost leaf floating through the autumn air, held captive by the gusts of your wind. Up and down, he travels with you, because of you.

Again, you pull your hand away.

Again, he whines.

“Noooo,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything. It was automatic, the expression of displeasure, ripped from him with the loss of your warmth on his.

“What’s wrong baby? You want me to stop?” It’s more fun when he has an out, when he could say no and chooses not to. When he wants this just as badly as you. “You know you-”

“No.” It's more breath than sound. “No, please. Keep going.”

And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

Precum drips down his length, covering him in remnants of desire. They cling to his skin like silky webs, woven from devotion and need. Each slick pump of your hand up and down creates more and more and more, a beautiful pearl at his slit forming one moment only to be spread by your circling thumb in the next.

Each time you reach his base, you squeeze. Each time you reach his tip, you twist. In this dance you both twirl and breathe and feel in beat, holding on to one another with sweaty hands and tired muscles.

“Remember, you can give up whenever you want,” you coo, the sweet glue of a trap.

But Satoru doesn’t dare taste, doesn’t dare step inside - he knows better.

(Right?)

“I’m not - fuck - giving up.” He tries to throw you a smile, but it lands at your feet.

Fists clench into each other, nails digging into his palms. You almost feel bad, the way he’s beginning to writhe within the ropes. It must hurt, you think, the texture soft but never soft enough - it’s nothing compared to you. In spite of his anguish, he knows better than to give up this easily. You haven’t even really begun, not yet.

When his eyelashes flutter closed, you know to pull your hand away.

He’s getting more subtle, the only sign of his impending pleasure a soft flicker of white and blue. But you recognize it, of course - his pleasure lives everywhere in him. In the way his breath catches, in the way his skin burns hot, in the way he gets all too loud or all too quiet.

There’s barely a sound this time. Instead, he just frowns, displeasure spreading across his sweet features. His lower lip sticks out, and he stares at you with cloudy eyes.

“I know, baby, I know. But this is what it takes if you want to win.”

The words don’t ease the growing ache in his core, but your voice does. Every vowel blurs the pain, every consonant gives him something to cling to. He’ll climb himself out of insanity on your breath.

Again, you wrap around him and drag him closer to the edge. Unable to pull his gaze away, he stares down it, looming, waiting. The free fall must feel nice, the wind against his skin, for a moment before he hits the ground. But with a firm hand on the back of his head, you just hold him there. It’ll be his choice whether he decides to jump. Or rather, when he decides to jump.

Another choked groan leaks from his lips when you pause. There are no words left for him to say, nothing but the agony of desire. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll make the leap any less tempting.

Hushed whispers, not quite praise, tingle his mind. Little hums of “I know,” or “there, there,” dance from your throat, and he writhes.

Distress always looked so pretty on him. Pretty tears, pretty red cheeks, pretty pouts and pretty cries. Perhaps it’s a curse that he looks like a fallen angel when he weeps - if he looked more grotesque, you wouldn’t feel the urge to bring him back into the jaws of pain.

But he lets you comfort him nonetheless, preen his wings and kiss his tears.

This time, when you stop, he thrashes. His skin burns, crisp like it had been warmed by the sun for too long. Everything is too tight, his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. They need to be loosened; they need to be released.

“Please.”

It’s so quiet, it’s almost not a word, just little sounds from his tongue.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Tears stream from glossy eyes when he looks at you. His lips quiver as he speaks.

“Please, I wanna cum. Please.”

The smile spreading across your face is cold and knowing; he looks beautiful as he falls.

“I know you want to, but-”

“I lose.” He’s panting, gasping through the plea. “I lose, I give up, I don’t care, just, please.”

Hot tears melt beneath your thumb as you swipe them away. His mouth hangs open, as though he could swallow the air, hold it inside him and let that ease the aching. But the only thing that can help him now is you, the only thing he can stomach.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

A loose smile flows across his face, easy like gentle waves lapping at the corners of his thoughts. The sentence itself barely makes sense to him at this point, garbled in his lust-clouded mind. But he knows you’ll help him now; he welcomes the push over the edge.

Straddling his lap, you guide him to your entrance. Sticky and hot, he presses into you. Just as his tip enters your warmth, he hurls himself into the wind.

Everything in his body trembles, muscles tightening and contracting out of time. Eyelashes flutter, whimpers dance like petals as he comes undone.

The only thing he can do is twitch inside of you, pearly strings pulsing with each erratic breath.

Finally, he opens his eyes to find you smiling. Warm lips press along his cheeks, dried tears salty on your tongue.

“Well, you certainly lost this time,” you hum, resting your forehead against his; he looks at you like you created the earth itself, your breath in the wind and your heartbeat in the sun. “But there’s always next year, right?”

[luveline]

hi jade!! could we get some kbd!steve where r has had a long week at work or something like that and steve makes her favorite for dinner and she just gets all clingy and a little teary and all that mushy ushy stuff

KBD —mom!reader, 2k

The drive home feels longer, roads you’ve taken each week day for years metamorphosed into winding lanes and long stretches of tarmac. You stop at the small store just outside of your neighbourhood and attempt to pick out a treat for each girl and your sweet husband. 

It costs more than the tags say it will. Your bag breaks on the way to the car. You have to go back into the store to buy Steve another glass coke, but he deserves it. If you think about crying on the street that leads into yours, it’s your secret. 

The door opens before you’ve parked the car. Avery waits on the stoop, shifting from foot to foot in excitement. The second the car is off, she’s barrelling down the step of the house without shoes. 

“Ave! Babe!” you say, laughing as she pins you in place. “No, go back inside! It’s so cold out here!” 

“I couldn’t wait to see you!” she whines. 

Steve is there and down the steps immediately. He grabs her up and tosses her over his shoulder, laughing but clearly disapproving, “I didn’t even hear the door, just you yelling,” he says. “Shit, come on, come inside, it’s freezing!”

“Steve, you’re not wearing socks either.” 

“I had to save my girl. Where’d she go, did you see?” 

Avery giggles roaringly against his back. “Dad, put me down!” 

Steve gets Avery unharmed back inside of the house. He lets you pass and locks the front door, it’s creaking, stuck handle slammed up and key turned. He puts the chain on, like you’re being followed, checking the peephole before turning to you with this look, arms out and hands up, a sign of relief coursing through him. “My girl,” he says, cupping your face in both hands. 

You give a surprised smile. 

“I thought I was your girl!” Avery says.

“You are my girl,” Steve says, tipping your head to one side. He’s smiling like it’s his birthday, or like you just told him you found a hundred dollars in one of your pockets. “But mom’s my girl, I have a couple, you know?” He talks to Avery, stares at you. “I’m glad you’re home. I have a surprise for you and I hate waiting.”

“You do?” 

He squeezes your cheek and parts from you. “Ave, go get some socks. I’m gonna turn the heating up. Wait, let me feel those feet before you go.” 

“You are not touching my feet, you tickle.” 

“Then go get some socks on them! Gosh, you’d think I just left the front door unlocked or something, the way she ran out.” 

He shares a big smile. 

In the kitchen, the shutters are open. The lingering piles of yet to melt snow in the back yard make the whole room white, illuminating the family table, the fridge covered in magnet-pinned drawings and appointment cards, the sink and all the drying dishes. Poor Steve, he must do the dishes three times a day before you get home. 

There are things covered on the stove waiting to be reheated, and in the oven, you can see a large ceramic baking tray. 

“What are you making?” you ask. 

“That’s your surprise, honey. That and one more thing.” 

You shake your head, nonplussed. “What?” 

Steve opens the cabinet under the sink to unveil a bouquet of flowers. Which means he must’ve gotten four girls dressed to take to the store on a day where he hadn’t needed to. He must love you a whole lot to bother.

“What’s in the oven?” you ask. 

Steve puts the bouquet in its vase on the table for you to inspect. “Your favourite, duh. All the trimmings. Enough for you to have three helpings, if you want.” 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Since when do we need an occasion?” he asks, taking your wrist across the table. 

You give the flowers a good long analysis. Your favourite flowers too, with baby’s breath, carnations and peonies to bulk it out, all light pinks or whites, the odd light blue one tucked throughout. 

“I think I was having a bad day,” you say. 

“What?” he asks worriedly. “What’s wrong?” 

He should know not to ask you like that when you’re upset to begin with. He’s lucky you don’t burst into breathless sobs there and then, but your eyes go hot, your waterline fills, and he’s all to easy to collapse against for a hug. The bag at your elbow clinks against him. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Sure, honey, but what happened?” 

You sound squeezes as an orange for juice as you explain it, wobbly in his arms, “It’s just been such a long week, m’sorry, and I had a bad day, and I got you a glass coke from Ernie’s but the bag broke, so I had to go back in and tell them I smashed glass out there–”

“Maybe Ernie should get better bags,” he says. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t cry over coke.” 

“No, you should never cry.” He encourages you back to kiss your nose, still smiling as he says, “Ever. They should make crying illegal, I don’t wanna see you doing it ever.” He taps you under the chin. “You’re home, cool? Nobody can bother you for the next two days, it’s just me, and your daughter, and your other daughter, and your other,” —he starts laughing as you do, infected— “daughter, and that baby. Also a daughter.” 

“Oh, yes. Who can forget my troop of girls,” you say, sniffling as he swipes under your eye with his thumb. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

You could tell him everything now, or you can save it up for tonight, tell his shoulder after dinner and a shower and a few hours of TV and chips. It’ll all feel less shitty then. And he’s drawn your attention where it should’ve been —where are your girls? 

“I’m okay. Thank you, handsome.” 

“Handsome.” He feels down your arm, pretty and warm among a cool-white kitchen. “Flirt. How about you go give your kisses and I’ll set the table?” 

“You sure?” 

He’s all smiles, it’s crazy. “The quicker I feed you the better, I’d wager. Kiss for luck?”

What luck? you think, but pout softly for a kiss that rocks your world regardless 

I’m a princess, you think, pushing the door that leads to the living room. Inside, Beth, the second eldest, is sitting with Wren, the baby. Wren is sitting on a playmat in a duckie covered onesie, smiling and giggling as Beth puts on a show. Beth’s holding an octopus toy and a Barbie, making them talk to one another in different voices. 

You don’t want to interrupt them, but Wren sees you over Beth’s head and starts doing the wiggly, nearly frantic things babies do when they’ve missed you. If you don’t grab her quickly she’ll burst into tears. 

“Beth!” you say, kneeling down beside her as you grab her sister. “Hi, bubby. What are you playing?” 

Beth reminds you that you’re beautiful, your smile on her lips as she says, “Mom! When did you come home?” 

“Just a few seconds ago.” You situate Wren on your chest for kissing, popping a few spares on Beth’s temple. “Okay? Good day?” 

“Great day!” 

“Good, I’m so glad.” 

Beth crawls to you to give you a hug from the side. Somewhere in the background, Avery calls, “Daddy! Dove is making a mess in my room AGAIN!” and Steve’s calling back, “Okay! I’ll be right there, Avery! Just gimme a minute!”

“DAD!” 

Wren gurgles at you. “Da?” she says. 

“Heard that, did you?” you ask her. 

Steve takes the long way, pushing into the living room and throwing a grin at the three of you on the floor. “Honey, I’ll be right back. The table’s set, okay? You can go sit down and I’ll start plating up.” He doubles back before he can leave, again staring at you with a smile. “Jesus, you’re perfect. I could just look at you forever.”

“Isn’t he charming?” you ask Beth. 

She gives an agreeable nod.  

The moment he’s gone you realise you actually don’t want him far away from you. It’s a strong feeling to understand it while bathed in love from two beautiful kids who missed you. Wren tries to kiss you, surely wanting one of her own, while Beth gets up and tries to persuade you too. 

“Come on, mommy. We can sit at the table.” 

So you go, mostly because she sounds adorable. You carry Wren to the table and find Steve’s already made her her soft food. You try to make baby food a few days worth at a time, but it’s nice to let her have little tastes of the same meal as everyone else. He’s blended some of the veggies into a bowl, sat cooled and waiting for her with a bib on the high chair. 

“Your daddy’s in great form today,” you mumble into her hair, sitting her down, and attempting to get the bib on her before she can grab her spoon. She’s enthusiastic, but not actually coordinated enough to use one yet. You sit down by the high chair to feed her. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Beth asks, taking your usual seat. 

“Yeah, of course. Want me to serve you now, or could you wait, bubby? Just until dad comes down.” 

Beth shakes her head. You forget sometimes that she’s not a baby, not a toddler, but a child big enough to grab her own knife and fork. “I’ll wait, just have some bread.” 

“Okay, bubby. Thank you. You gonna butter it yourself?” 

“Yeess,” she drags out. 

Steve brings Avery back, along with your last, grumpiest daughter, Dove. She isn’t necessarily miserable, just contrary. When she was Wren’s age she’d already mastered the word no, when she sees you, she glares at you, crying out in disbelief, “You’re in my seat!” 

“Come and sit on my lap, big girl, I gotta feed your sister.” 

“I don’t want to sit on your lap.” 

“That’s hurtful.” You pout at her with loving eyes. “Dove, didn’t you miss mommy? I missed you soooooo much.” 

Success. She climbs into your lap and lets you rub her arm while you can. Steve takes the seat on Beth’s other side, further away then you would’ve liked. He serves everybody their dinner, does it all beaming and fawning over his dinner guests. 

Your bad week fades away. By the time Steve’s stolen Wren-duty and you’ve finished your dinner, you’re feeling delightfully full and doubly loved. Like they know you need it, each of your daughters capable of doing so gives you a hug (or in Dove’s case, a kiss on the arm). 

Leaving you, and Steve, and baby Wren. 

“What do you think, milk?” he asks her. 

She seems to think it over. “Ba?” she asks. 

“Buppy? You want your buppy?” 

He pulls her out of her high chair, makes her a bottle of milk with her held to his chest, and then sits down in the chair next to you to cradle her and feed her a few ounces. 

“So,” he says, as though he isn’t exhibiting frankly audacious levels of dad-stamina and esteem, “about that long week, are you feeling okay?” 

You hold his wrist where he holds the baby. Wren’s getting so big, she takes up the length of his arm, a healthy chub around her neck and on her tummy. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, yeah.” 

“Just got on top of you?” 

“Yeah, I guess so. Shit, I didn’t get you your coke or anything for dinner. I got the girls chips.” 

“It’s okay, we have time to spoil them. They ate tons.” 

“What was breakfast like after I left?” 

“Avery was so happy she didn’t have school I don’t think she noticed there were no fruit slices.” 

You fall into conversation. He leans against your shoulder as you rub the length of his arm, encouraging your clinging to the fullest extent. 

[whoreforsexymen]

This might be kind a kind of crazy request but hear me out, but feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable. So it's Jace Talis x reader SFW but it aludes to smut. Basicaly jayce wants to gets freaky with his girl or guy or whatever, but Jayce want to watch victor get freaky with the reader, Jayce's partner. I don't want to see any smut, but I just want to see the conversation go down between Jayce and Victor, of Jayce asking Victor if we would like to smash his partner and watch them lol.

Your wish is my command, darling. Sit back and let Mommy do her thing 🤍 (Also, tagging this as NSFW since it uses strong language, and heavily eludes to is directly about cucking.)

Jayce asking you to cuck him w/ Viktor | Flash

Pairings: Jayce Talis x Reader x Viktor

Pronouns: None used for Reader. Can be read as GN!!

Rating: NSFW, 18+ MDNI !!!!!

Word Count: 447

Tags: Cuckholding, Implied M/M (if you squint), Heavy implications of sex (duh), maybe slight OOC Jayce (also, if you squint), slight Sub!Jayce (if you REALLY REALLY SQUINT)

Notes: I have yet to watch S2 because I already can’t handle the heartbreak I know is waiting around the corner for me. So this is written with S1 Viktor and Jayce!!

Also, my first request!!! EEEE!! I hope you like it!! I wrote this so fast cause I was so excited and had nothing else to do hehehe xo

I ALSO KNOW YOU ASKED FOR THE CONVO TO BE BETWEEN VIKTOR AND JAYCE— WHICH ILL DO SOON, TOO, AS A PART 2!! But I liked this idea better ansjdkdkskkkkk for now!!

“…What?” You ask, bewildered.

“I know— I know it’s a weird request. But. I don’t know. I just think it would be hot to watch you… y’know… get fucked by someone else. And— I mean. It’s not like there’s anyone I trust more than Viktor—“ Jayce spoke quickly, a hint of embarrassment lacing his words as he let out a nervous chuckle, his fidgeting betraying his best efforts to exude a calm facade.

He swallowed tightly, his nerves making him feel exposed and helpless, like a child left alone in the dark.

“So. Let me get this straight. I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right. You want Me— And— Viktor, to fuck… While you watch?” You ask plainly.

Jayce swallowed once more, his nerves spiraling as he struggled to hold himself together.

“That is what I said… yes.” He mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

You stare at him, dumbfounded. The idea itself doesn’t catch you off guard—not really. In fact, it stirs something exciting within you. It’s a little unconventional, sure, but you’re not opposed to exploring what could lie ahead for your sex life with Jayce. You might enjoy letting him take the lead most of the time, but there’s something about the way he’s dancing around this topic in particular— too nervous to be bold—that sparks a fire in your gut.

“Hmm.” You hum softly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Is it just because you wanna see your boyfriend naked~?” You tease, your hands resting lightly on his chest as you look up at him, your gaze heavy with playfulness, smoldering as always.

Jayce stammers harder than before.

“I- wh- No. Pfft. It’s just- I just-..” He can’t even continue his stammering before you kiss him. It was a soft and chaste one, yet needy in its own way, and above all—understanding.

After several long seconds, once you sense his nerves start to settle, you slowly pull away, the tension lingering in the space between you.

“We can do that.” You say softly, giving him one extra peck to the lips.

“Really?” He queries, unsure of if you’re being truthful.

You emit a gentle chuckle.

“Yes, my love… I’m open to it.” You explain, running your hands along his chest… Over his vest… and down the length of his tie. You felt him shudder beneath your wandering hands.

“Why don’t you ask Viktor, and if he’s open to it, we can try… let’s see… tonight, hmm?” You ask, leaning in and nibbling his ear ever so teasingly.

After a long pause, Jayce finally speaks again, his voice quieter now, as if weighing his words more carefully.

“I already asked him. He said yes.”

[buckevantommy]

Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

*

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

[ch4nb4ng]

Expect the Unexpected

Pairing: Han Jisung X afab!reader

Word count: 9.7k

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers (stoned college edition

Warnings: 18+ explicit minors do not interact. Substance use, sexual acts under the influence of substance use, Kissing, naked bodies, mentions of genitals, fingering, handjob, orgasm, mentions of semen

Tag list: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree

@kpopsstuffs

Note: HEY guys, its been a while, and like actually a while this time.... Had this sitting in the draft for almost a year. Life has very much gotten in the way but i am back hopefully, with the aim of engaging in writing when I feel like and no pressuring myself. Anyways, it's nice to be back and I hope you enjoy.

Summary: There was a blizzard, resulting in your college dorm being blocked from all human interaction. Things are about to, however change when your childhood best friend, and wall neighbour comes over and has other things in mind to pass the time with weed included as one of them.

The first time living away from your family and by yourself was an experience that you very much valued. No curfews, no worrying about what your parents were going to say when you’ve had several drinks at a party, and definitely no nagging to make your bed everyday. Make no mistake, you loved your parents and siblings a lot, it was just nice sometimes to have the complete privacy that was your dorm room every now and then. 

There were moments that you did become homesick. On the contrary to having your own private, personal space, especially during the trying moments of completing long winded assignments, studying for exams, or even just having the feeling of familiarity when you hugged somebody that was your blood. There were always pros and cons to living an independent college life. At this current moment in time, you were experiencing one of the more annoying parts of living in a college building. 

Deep into the winter seasons of the year, while also living in a state that was known for having extreme weather patterns during this time of the year was your least favorite part. Once the news alerted ‘warning, blizzard storm approaching in the next 48 hours,’ you knew that the college would be sending an official email, urging students to stay in the dorms, and barricade all exits.

This was where you were currently at.

Lying in your bed, phone up to your face as you reassured your family through facetime that you were fine and had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

“You guys know the drill,” you smiled, “I’m fine, two days in and I am alive and well, just a little bored.”

“Okay well don’t forget that Jisung’s mother and I got those rooms next to each other so you guys always have a little bit of company.”

“Yes mom I know,” you laughed, “I might text him later. He had an assignment due this afternoon and I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay love, we will talk to you later.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The sound representing the end of the call rang through the speaker of your phone. The object fell on your chest as you let out a loud sigh, your boredom growing with each second. 

Jisung. Han Jisung was someone that could be labeled as many different things to you. Friend, confidant, best friend, study buddy; home. Jisung was the jack of all trades in your book. 

Knowing each other since the two of you were 10, meeting at a weekend competition of playing mixed teams basketball bloomed into a relationship you didn't know was even possible to have with a man. Jisung was the friend that kind of just stuck, even planning to go to the same college as you. It was a packaged deal, you and him, but it made you laugh, because the two of you could not be more of the opposite. Jisung was the shyer type. Although you met through sporting engagements, that was more something that his parents put him into to see what he liked. He was very intelligent, a strong preference to have his head in the books rather than going out to a new party every weekend. Make no mistake, Jisung was a very polite individual, always talking to those that gave the time. However, he was much more comfortable with people that he knew. In contrast, you were a social butterfly, able to make friends every corner you turned. Parties and drinking every weekend; anywhere but the was where the majority of your time was spent. 

Therefore, when all the buildings on campus were closed, it drove you crazy. There was nothing that could be hated more than being forced to stay inside in your eyes. The confinement always made you reconsider why it was here, in this state, that you chose to attend college. But it was when you heard a knock on the door that you were reminded why. Leg flopping out of your bed sheets, they dragged you to the door, your body sprinkled in warmth when you opened it to your kind looking friend who happened to be smiling back. Your body turned to the side, hand out as he strolled into your apartment, plopping down on the couch like it was his own. You quickly followed, taking the spot next to him as you turned to face him.

“Are you bored yet?”

“Of course I am,” you sigh, walking in front of Jisung as you walk into the living room of your apartment and sitting on the couch, head in your hands, leaning forward so much that you could almost fall off the couch “as if it took you this long to realise.”

“Y/n, the email was only sent out 4 hours ago.”

“Yeah but there was supposed to be a party tonight at Changbin’s frat,” you whined, lips fully pouted, “I really wanted to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, placing his hands behind his head, legs kicked out on the small table in front of him, “it’s a real shame that the party is canceled.”

Your best friend managed to avoid eye contact, voice dripping with sarcasm. To be truthful, you knew that even though he would go with you, to make sure you're safe of course, and DEFINITELY for that reason only, Jisung would never choose to willingly go to such a party. It wasn’t that he was a complete prude little innocent boy, no. There had been a multitude of times where you could hear him, or the other girls that failed to stay quiet and not echo through the paper thin dorm walls. Jisung just simply wasn’t the type to go out to parties, especially when everyone there was a slobbering mess on one substance or another, especially you. There was a feeling that if you were merely a stranger to him, Jisung would most likely, outside of classes, be a ghost. A myth that supposedly walks down the hallways of your college. Seeing as the two of you were opposite in that regard, you tried to respect Jisung as much as possible. Not bringing your bong, joints, or excessive amounts of alcohol whenever he came over, because you knew if the shoe was on the other foot, he would also do the same. Jisung only had the occasional puff anyway, much less than you, so the need to have it around constantly felt unnecessary.

“Try not to ooze with excitement,” you raised your eyebrows, a fake smile plastering across your lips as you failed to see his attitude change. Good old Jisung for you.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Anyway,” you replied, leaning forward and grabbing the TV remote, pressing the small red power button in the top right corner, watching the plasma screen light up with the logo belonging to Netflix. You turn again to the man beside you, a warmth feeling in your chest at how placid he looked, patiently waiting for you to put something on.

“Is there anything you would like to watch for the next 12 hours?”

Yes, 12 hours. That was you being optimistic that this storm would be quick.

“Hmm,” Jisung hummed, bringing his index finger and thumb to his chin, thinking about what to watch, “there isn’t anything I’ve been keeping up with.”

“Ah I see. Shall we just scroll until we find something we like?”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Clicking on your profile, the first row of TV shows were ‘Watch it again,’ followed by ‘Top hits for Y/n.’ Nothing really caught your eye, or his seeing as he would say something if he did. It wasn’t until your ‘continue watching for y/n’ that you gasped, loud. The word ‘Bridgerton’ has popped up in continuing. At first you were confused. Although you were an avid lover of that show, you had not watched it recently. It wasn’t until you selected it that you realized a new season had come out. Jisung remained puzzled, seeing as this was not something he had a remote interest in watching. 

“Oh my god Jisung can we-”

“No man,” he complained, “you know this is the last thing I would want to watch.”

“Please,” you begged, placing your hands in the form of a prayer, remote still in hand, “it’s so good I beg of you please to just consider. I’ll do anything.”

“Ugh fine,” he hissed, “but I cannot be 100% sober for this shit.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, displaying a look of confusion. This was the thing you would expect someone like Jisung to say.

“Hmm ok,” you hummed, still slightly confused, “I’ll get my stash of vodka.”

“Hmmm no,” he shrugged, a slightly suggestive glimmer on his face, “something that will be long-lasting, if you’re catching my drift.” 

Jisung raised his eyebrows repeatedly, leaving your mind to imply one substance only. Weed.

“You want to smoke, really?”

“Yes y/n, I want to smoke weed, is that ok with you?”

“Of course it is,” you reassured, “you know that if you were here or not I would probably do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Done.”

“Okay, and we have to watch from the beginning or I will go back to my room.”

“Yes yes okay fine,” you leaned over, pressing a grateful kiss on his cheek, “you’re the best. I’ll get my stash now.”

You scurried off to your room, quickly, opening the small draw on your side table next to your bed. Your stash, the prized possession that was the calm before the storm. Smoking in your downtime was something that you very much looked forward to, especially if you were unnecessarily stressed out. Your face lit up and the clouds of dark green hue clouded the plastic bag that was in your sight, fingers grasping the edge as you wiggled back to your original spot. Although you agreed, it was strange of your friend to want to just smoke out of boredom. The only time you had seen him do it was at small gatherings, and even then, it was one puff and done, usually followed by heavy chest hitting coughs. It always made you laugh. It also made you feel bad, knowing that if he didn’t hang around with you, he probably wouldn’t do these kinds of things. Jisung was an adult who could make his own decisions, but there was always part of you that thought about him, his family; would they approve of him doing this? It was a lot to think about sometimes. 

It was Jisung’s turn to hold the remote, flicking back to season 1 episode 1, before scooching closer to you. Jisung was keen to get in on the action, something you were definitely not used to. He went to reach for the paper, but you grabbed him by the wrist, making him pause for a moment.

“Jisung, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he smiled, unsure why you were asking such a question, “it’s not the first time I’ve done it y/n, relax.”

“Yeah I know,” you shrugged, “it’s just, I’ve only seen you smoke once, and you looked like you were about to cough up your lungs.”

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away in embarrassment, “you saw that?”

“Unfortunately, I did.”

“Yeah well I can do it,” he barked, somewhat getting defensive, pointing at the TV to deflect from his deficits “you’re making me watch this shit.”

“Okay okay,” you whined, letting go of his wrist, “but please let me show you how to roll and smoke a joint properly so you don’t actually hurt yourself.”

The two of you giggled simultaneously, resulting in Jisung reluctantly nodding in agreement. He watched closely as he watched you open both bags, paper on the right, weed on the left.

“Okay so,” you began to speak, “firstly,” you paused again, using your index and middle finger on your right hand to slide into the plastic, “I like to slide my fingers in like this, touching the least amount of paper possible.” 

Jisung pushed his lenses right up to his face, making sure his concentration was avid; missing a step was not an option for him. Once the sheet was out of paper, you placed it on top of the plastic. You like to take pride in your work, especially being a part time stoner, of your supplies. Seeing as it cost you a significant amount, it felt wrong to not get the best out of your product. 

“Then,” you continued, “you get the bag with the goods, and I like to,” pausing again, opening the bag and grabbing one cluster, “just crush it in my fingers as small as I can, and sprinkle it in a line across the center.”

He nodded again, observing how smooth your fingers were, fingertips sprinkling green across the white square placed in the table.

“Are you following?”

“Of course,” he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows to show his concentration. Jisung swallowed a nervous gulp, remembering that he really had no idea what he was going to do when he coughed his lungs up one more time. Yes, he was concentrating on how you did it, but he couldn’t help it. His cognitions were descending into the gutter, especially watching the two fingers he tended to use when he was in lewd acts himself. It made him nervous. 

Sure, there were intrusive thoughts about you being a part of his fantasies and desires, but Jisung knew better than to act on something that came from pure lust. Instead, pressing his lips together, attempting to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt from his lips. You, however, were too smart to not notice him suppressing his laughter. Your elbow nudged his side, a sheepish gaze as you began to question him.

“What’s so funny?”

“What,” he questioned, puffing his cheeks and shaking his head, patting your arm, “keep going.”

You decided to shrug it off, not letting his immaturity obstruct you from your prized possession. Next was the rolling. Lifting the paper with the utmost precaution, the material was brought to your lips, tongue sticking out as your lips lay a thin layer of saliva to coat the edge of the paper.

“See what I did with my tongue?”

‘Oh god,’ was all Jisung could think, mind once again heading straight to the gutter. All he could think about was what your tongue, if it was positioned under a different appendage, how different it could be. His testosterone was raging, but once again, he knew better. To Jisung, nothing could be worse than putting his own selfish wants ahead of your friendship. However, the longer he stared at you practically making out with the joint, licking it up and down, side to side, making sure the two ends stuck together, the harder it became to push his thoughts away from such dirty crevices of his mind. The torture was over for him once you withdrew the now complete joint from your lips. You were satisfied with how it turned out, a smile of approval, and a hint of arrogance plastered on your face.

“And that’s how you do it. Now your turn.”

“Ok,” he sighed, “swap spots with me so I can do it.”

“Yes sir,” you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes you obeyed, allowing your best friend to now sit in front of the two bags. He followed your steps with ease, using great precision with his fingers to eject the weed and paper from each plastic container. He was natural. Only the two fingers, being the same ones you, strategically rolling the two digits back and forth. He was swift, nimble, adjectives you normally liked to use when you felt the touch of a man. It was your turn to swallow nervously, a small pit of arousal brewing in your lower abdomen as the small pelts of green substance dissipated across the center of the paper, just like you did. Holy shit, how could something as simple as rolling a joint be so attractive? Jisung brought a hand to his hair, running it quickly through the brown mop to get it out of his face, aiming to let no obstacles get in his way. He gave you one look, a gaze of concern when he noticed your eyes glued to his hands. 

“You okay?”

Your eyes shot straight to his, attempting to not be mesmerized by the joyful expression covering his features. Fuck, why was his smile having such an impact on you right now? He chuckled, assuming that you were just playing around, but in reality, you were definitely distracted by the attractiveness of your friend with a sudden fresh washed mop of brown hair, glasses, and shining complexion of the side of his face as the light from the window cascaded across the high points of his cheeks. You faked a smile, nodding as you egged him on to continue. Panic began to settle in however when you saw the bare tip of his tongue coating the corner of the white material. Holy shit, he really was a natural. Licking the edge right across in one swift motion, not using too much saliva, yet still using enough. It was almost offensive how much better his joint looked compared to yours. But that was just what Jisung was: a perfectionist with little effort in trying to attain said perfection. He didn’t stray too much out of the norm, yet when he did try something, he was always good at it from the first try. Sometimes it made you wonder what other things he would be good at. But that was for another time, with a similar mindset in the fact that a brief thought of sexual fantasy was not worth more than your friendship. Especially if he didn't reciprocate, the awkwardness after would be something you most definitely could not handle.

“Woah,” you gasped, grasping the joint out of his hand, intensely observing it from each angle, “I knew you would be good at this.”

Your best friend beamed at your approval, eagerly waiting for the next step. 

“Oh my lighter, I’ll go grab it now.”

You forgot before, but this gave you time to completely subtract those devil filled thoughts of Jisung by not looking at him for a brief moment. It worked, because as soon as you opened the drawer and saw your lighter, all you could focus on was lighting that shit up. 

Coming back to the living room once more, you placed the fire breathing object on the table, offering Jisung to go first. He looked hesitant, unsure how or where he should start. It was adorable when Jisung was like this, because he was clueless not very often. You decided to pick it back up, pressing the flicker down once to ignite the flame.

“Do you want to go first, or would you like me to go first?”

“Uhm,” he hummed, “I think you should go first, you know, show me how to do this shit properly.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, letting go of the flicker on the lighter, handing it over to him, “well I usually don’t light my own joints so would you do me the honors?”

“Of course,” he purred, the smoothness of his tone delivering a sudden pulse to your core. You leant forward, completely forgetting that your clothing was completely revealing by all means. The looseness of your long sleeve white shirt was telling, the action of leaning forward exposing the subtlety of your cleavage. You could see Jisung’s eyes travel straight to them, but only for a brief moment. He was trying to be as respectful as he could, but it was impossible when your chest was right there. His thumb dragged with ease, flame luminous as he brought the orange tipped flame to the edge of your joint. The tip turned dark immediately, and the taste of the herb came with that. The sensation was immediate, as you grabbed the joint with two fingers, pulling the object away from your lips and letting the warmth of the smoke spilling, down your chest,  and back up again, eyes fluttering shut as you puffed the smoke from your lips, the feeling of nostalgia hitting you.

Jisung watched you in awe, amazed at how easily smoking came to you. He wanted to try so bad. He wanted to prove to you that he could do something that you did not expect of him. But he was patient, waiting for you to open your eyes before he started. 

“Mmmm,” you hummed in pure bliss, lifting your eyelids slightly, “that is some good shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yessss,” you hissed, grabbing onto his hands holding the lighter, sliding it out of his hand “your turn. Place the joint between your lips and lean forward.”

Jisung did as he was told, adjusting his positioning to being abnormally close to you. You didn’t pay much mind, the small flame igniting once again, but you paused, almost forgetting that he in fact did now know what he was doing.

“Ok so once I light this,” you paused, using your free hand to squeeze his jaw, “are you listening?”

His eyes widened at your sudden touch, a small nod which was obstructed by your somewhat firm grasp.

“Ok so once I light this, take a small breath in, hold for a second, and blow it out.”

“Yes maam,” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes before you passed him the bud, waiting for him to grasp it between his two fingers. When he does, still keeping his eyes on you, simultaneously feeling your brain drop slightly at how intense his gaze was in this very moment, lips forming into the shape of an o as the paper came to his lips, taking the smallest puff, and blowing it out. You were impressed, seeing this was the first time he smoked anything without coughing his lungs out. A smile came to your lips, proud of your best friend in the moment.

“Woah,” he sighed, finally breaking his stare, eyes changing towards the blunt. His chest descended as he took another puff, turning back to face the tv as his back gently slid into the couch. 

“How was that?”

“Is it crazy that I already feel more relaxed than before?”

His response made you giggle, glad he was enjoying himself. 

“I told you,” sighing as you snatched the blunt from his grip, taking a long drag, “I only smoke the high quality stuff.”

“Sure do,” he growled, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Jisung grabbed the remote, pressing play on the TV, greeted by a girl in a royal style gown. He forgot that it was Bridgerton that got him here in this predicament. 

***

It did not take much for the two of you to feel the consequences of smoking. One thing you hated to admit was that you craved the presence of someone next to you when under the influence. But not just like in your orbit no. Like needing a lack of personal space. To be suffocated. Which is why the two of you were sitting the way you were now. Your legs atop of his own, head buried into his chest, with your arms wrapped around his torso. 

The intrusive thoughts always won when you were high, which is how your fingertips came to be not just on your best friend, but under his shirt, skin to skin contact. You couldn’t deny that the texture of his defined build, muscles budding at each ridge was hard to miss. 

Bridgerton had been playing, but if anything, at this point, it had become background noise, the main noise becoming the tension that thickened between the two of you with each passing minute. Although the relationship was close,the idea of  intimacy was never something that had come up as a thought. Sober you, and sober him, would never do such a thing. Feeling that maybe it would cross a boundary. 

But the usual thought did not cross your mind. Or his for that matter, Jisung’s digits generously spread across the outside of your thigh, dangerously close to your behind. It felt nice, honestly. Yes, you had your fair share of one night stands. Male attention followed you, easily, whether you were looking for it or not. With that being said, however, it had been a while since you remembered what a real man's touch felt like. Especially your best friend. Being a biology major, Jisung was consistently practical in the lab, using his hands in the most intricate ways. Whether looking at a small piece of bacteria in a microscope, or dissecting an organ of some sort, he was always using his hands, and boy, was that evident when you felt the texture of his callous palms spreading across the back of your leg. 

The puffing came to a halt, joint burning down halfway to its bud, but it was enough to heighten your senses. The two of you looked at each other, eyelids a little more droopy than usual as the both of you giggled, looking back at the TV. By the time the two of you were actually paying attention to the storyline, Daphne and Simon were getting married.

“So what’s the premises?”

“Premises?” You giggled, finding humor in your best friend’s speaking mishap.

“Yeah like,” he paused, maneuvering your body to be closer to his, leaving now no room on the couch between the two of you, “like what’s the show about.”

“It’s a period romance show based on a series of books.”

“Ohh, I thought you didn't like to read, you fucking nerd.”

“Oi,” you nudged him, completely missing the side of his arm and falling onto his chest, “I don't, that’s why I'm watching the show instead.”

“Right, anyway, go on.”

“Right, so Daphne and Simon basically pretended to be together so this other guy, creepy as fuck, wouldn’t have to marry her. But then they realized they developed feelings for each other but are both inendial about it so they're discussing the topic on their wedding day and just going through with it because it was too late for them to change their mind.” If either of you did not see the irony in this situation.

“That literally made no fucking sense,” Jisung sighed, using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, “but to be honest, I really can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Damnnn,” you gasped, leaning up to look at him, “you’re high.”

“Yeah pfft,” Jisung hummed, keeping his glazed eyes focused on you, “I feel like I can just say or do anything right now.”

“That’s the beauty of smoking Ji,” you smiled, turning away and facing the screen. It was at this point that married TV couples were in their honeymoon suite. If you were being honest, it was hard to keep up with the dialogue due to the speed and the actual content being in old english. It was much less difficult to follow the visuals, their facial expressions, how they spoke. It was still captivating, watching the two actors get close and closer, right until their lips met. As they continued, the room felt silent yet tense. The two of you watched adamantly as things began to heat up, Simon assisting Daphne in undressing herself. It was then that you felt Jisung adjust himself under your legs, brushing him off of you as he sunk back into the couch. You thought it was strange, but you decided it was better to ignore it, remembering how mesmerizing the scene of Daphne and Simon making love for the first time really was. As they moved to their new bed, Simon hovering over Daphne’s innocent body, a new sensation was forming in your lower abdomen, but it didn't stop there, unmistakably flying right to your core, again. While recalling how mesmerizing this particular scene was, you also forgot how much it aroused you simultaneously. This was a mistake. Being high and horny was not a good combination, especially when Jisung, your best friend, was sitting next to you, previously with his hands on you. It was probably better to disregard these lustful feelings, they surely would pass.

“Oh shit,” Jisung mumbled, grasping for the small decorative pillow next to him, placing it over his crotch area, “this is um, wow, it’s uh-”

“Yeah I kinda forgot,” you replied before facing him, noticing the now pillow covering the beginning of his lower limbs. At first you were confused, eyebrows furrowed at why he would do such a thing. Instead of minding your business, and beating the paranoia of not knowing what he was doing that was amplified after smoking, you were now  holding the pillow, the sounds of Daphne’s moans and groans the only noise that could be heard. As soon as Jisung noticed your grip on the pillow, he resisted you, not wanting you to see what was happening underneath the soft object.

“Jisung,” you laughed nervously, genuinely confused at his behavior, “what are you doing with my pillow.”

“Nothing,” he hushed, attempting to dismiss your question with the tone of his voice floating thin into the air, “keep watching.”

He pointed at the screen, head nodding in the same direction as you let go of the pillow and focused on the TV. But that was the worst mistake you could have made, because it was Simon’s turn to undress, and once he did, it really was game over. The two of them there, completely naked as he began to thrust into his new wife. Simon’s grunts were short, staccato like, while Daphne was more graceful, each moan spilling into her husband's ear as the two of them went at it.

“Fuck this is making me really horny.”

As soon as your best friend said that, he brought his fingers to his lips, leaving your jaw dropped. Did he really just say that, or were you hallucinating?

“Woops,” Jisung mumbled, “the weed is really making me lose my filter. Sorry.”

You should have hated that he blurted that out. Letting the intrusive thoughts win, especially when high, was not a good sign. But it brought the ache that momentarily dulled right back. Looking back at the screen, Jisung now removed the pillow and revealed his full hard on through his thin fabric sweatpants: it was becoming too much. Now suddenly, the only thought that stayed consistent was wanting the same thing on the TV. Right here. Right now. With Jisung. Your best friend.

“Don’t be sorry,” you cooed, moving closer to him, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t either.”

He said nothing, only gasping in a subtle manner as Jisung looked at you, all of a sudden your features projecting to him as illustrious, appetizing. Jisung wanted nothing more than to devour you in the current moment.

“Is this normal?” 

Jisung’s voice was so nonchalant, tone lacking concern or hesitation at your lack of proximity. It was kind of adorable, really. The normal friend you knew was one to freak out if he ever did something like this. Usually so prim and proper in every setting. In contrast, there was something sexy about the way he was acting. Sure, actions had consequences, but thinking with clarity was not a priority.

“I would say so,” you purred, voice soothing as your fingers crept onto the front of his knee closest to you, “weed makes me horny too.”

“O-oh,” his voice shook, suddenly a little nervous by the prospect of you touching him in a possibly arousing way, “Y/n.”

Jisung’s voice was breathy, chest heaving very slowly as his eyes shot down to your body. Suddenly, your best friend was amazed by every single curve and creativity of your figure. As he brought his hands to your behind, it suddenly felt so soft, hands unforgivingly slipping past the waistband of your shorts, making direct contact with your skin. The contact made you hot, using your free hand to fan yourself. Jisung took the hand of yours that was moving deathly slowly along his inner thigh off of him, body now on his side facing you as he withdrew his hand groping your ass. Instead, he moved it around to the front, but rather than dipping straight into your folds, he slipped in the layer under your outer layer, opting for the space inbetween, digits spreading across your core covered by the miniscule fabric.. It was better this way, he thought. The sensation of touch was much more sensitive under the influence as he wanted to feel every texture of your body that was possible. You giggled at the brush of his gentle touch, a small gasp quickly following up once you realized that his fingers, although not making direct contact, were feeding that arousal felt between your legs. Like scratching an impossible itch. His eyes were already on you when your neck turned, facing him. 

“Shit,” you breathed, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’m barely touching you,” he hissed, lips getting closer to your own. What is happening right now? You should be saying no; rejected his advances. Your best friend. Jisung. The shy, little boy you had known him to be all of his life. But the longer his fingers pushed around that sensitive button of yours, the more your legs spread open for him, hips gently bucking to reach for more surface area of his fingers. His confidence was charming, almost too much so. It made you want more and more, so much so that your internal conflict of stopping and telling him to keep going was disappearing with each lingering moment. Rationality, once a perplexity in your mind disappeared the moment his lips landed on yours. God they were sweet, soft; every texture that you know felt pleasant was coming to your mind the moment they moved against your own. His free hand came to the side of your face that was farthest away, index finger spread across your jaw as he moved his tongue, deeper and deeper, maintaining his dominance over you. Fuck he was a good kisser, a whine erupting from your throat at how flexible his mouth was, bending over backwards to make sure that you were happy with the pace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from a brief moment to remove all bottoms, panties included. All your best friend could do was chuckle, deeply, the shade of his eyes turning as dark as you had ever seen when he saw your bare pussy out, for him. His fingers latched on immediately, using the index and middle finger on one hand to spread your lips, the other fingers on the opposite hand barely scratching your clit. The feeling almost made you wriggle out of your seat, mouth agape across Jisung’s cheeks in a sloppy effort to maintain composure of any sort.. Everything was happening so fast. All it took was barely one scene for the two of you to let down your guards. Pretending that your friendship meant nothing. It was never friendship. Jisung would be a ghost to you if the two of you had not been friends since childhood. Maybe there were in fact other reasons that the two of you stayed this way. The moans and groans of the girls he would have over, filling up the bare distance between your room and his, always had an effect on you. It was then when you started to question what he did to those girls to make them feel so good that you were doomed. It was easy to act like a crazy party girl in front of him, knowing that he would never want to be with someone like that, and by doing that, it would push those little feelings right down to where you had the ability to forget them. Avoidance was always key.

But then Jisung would bring you food while you were up doing an assignment, buy you a bouquet of flowers when it was your birthday. Even the way he would talk to your siblings back at home was enough. Jisung was enough and maybe now, by getting these hormonal feelings out, which felt like heaven, was enough to admit that this would not be just a high rendezvous for you, but something real. 

“You’re like really wet,” Jisung hummed, sliding his fingers closer and closer to your whining entrance, “always wondering how you would’ve felt like this.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Jisung replied, sarcastic, as if it was super obvious, “all the time.”

“Fuck that’s so hot,” you moaned, gripping his wrist, bringing the digits specifically up to your lips for a moment,  taking his DNA into a deep thorating motion The two fingers he was about to use now utterly drenched in your slick before navigating them down your body, circling your entrance before effortlessly plunging them straight into your hole. Jisung could have creamed himself then and there. Due to the sensitivity of his first time being high, he knew that if he was going to fuck you today, he truly would not last long, at all. But instead of ruining the moment that way, he decided to make it all about you. Wanting to view you squirm under him, make his best friend: you feel good. It is something he has been patiently waiting for. Jisung was a giver, and if he wanted to give you a toe curling orgasm on your couch to make you happy, he was going to do so, whatever it took.

As soon as he fingers reached the end of your whole, the two of you moaned in unison, the sound of squelch that was your arousal already an intense volume.

“D-don’t think I’ve been this wet before,” you whined, waiting for Jisung to gently pull them out.

“Really,” he questioned, genuinely baffled, “no one ever made you this wet before? Find that hard to believe.”

Your hips wriggled, desperate to feel the friction of him moving back and forth. However he was so mesmerized by the texture of your velvety walls against his digits, that he used his other hand, coated in your slick, to relieve himself, the encounter resulting in Jisung becoming much too impatient to bother taking his pants off. Your eyes shot straight to the small motion you were witnessing of him moving his hand against his cock. Oh, his length must feel so good like this. Once Jisung began to move his fingers that were inside of you, a string of curse words easily fell from your lips, unable to control anything that came from them. The sensory overload was at peak, and if you were sober, feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement. 

With that being said, you were not, and neither was Jisung. The brooding tip that was his cock gently nudged your inner thigh. As he continued to grow, it had nowhere else to go. The simplest of touches felt like a million times more than when under the influence. But it had to be a culmination of things. Seeing Jisung dominate in something, take control. Fuck. Hearing those girls in his dorm had more of an impact on you than you originally thought. 

Your mind drifted to those memories for a brief moment, the faint moans of the girls, but it suddenly occurred that you never knew what he sounded like. Jisung was a silent fuck? There was no way. 

Your gaze drifted, Jisung immediately noticing and pausing his fingers with immediate concern.

“Y/n?”

Your head turned back faster than your eyes, deep in motion. It was silent, the TV pretty much non-existent as you grabbed him by the jaw, index finger and thumb strong on his mandible as your eyes fixated on his lips.

“How come you never moan when you fuck?”

Jisung panicked at first, a laugh following immediately after, the contagious sound making you laugh too. Your body was limp for a brief moment, falling off of your best friend's lap and next to him on the couch. Jisung ripped his glasses off his head, throwing them onto the table in front of him, allowing him to get a genuine look at how hot and flustered you truly were. Solely because of him.

“What are you talking about,” he giggled, fingertips immediately grabbing the flesh of your thigh, any part of you was good to him, as long as he could get his hands on it, right now.

“How would you know if I’m a silent fuck or not?”

“Because,” you smacked him lightly, letting him remove his hand from your skin “I can hear when you fuck other girls, pfft,” you huffed, lifting your legs in the air to discard your bottoms that were puddled around your ankles, “they’re always so fucking loud man.”

Jisung’s cheeks blushed in the tiniest form. It’s not that he was embarrassed. Okay, maybe part of him was a little embarrassed, completely caught off guard and forgetting that the walls in the dorm were paper thin. Part of him felt guilty that you had to hear that. He began to pout, but immediately dropped his lips when he realized that you were half naked. His fingertip immediately wrapped around each hip, forcing you to sit on his lap and face him. You lifted your hips, eyes signaling down to his pants that were overdue in needing to be removed. Jisung complied immediately, whisking his sweats and boxers off in one motion, causing his hard length to meet with your soaked core, his tip prodding gently at your folds. You bit down on your lip trying as hard as you could to focus on Jisung’s face, rather than focusing on how erect his cock was against you. Jisung tugged at your shirt, gawking when you lifted your arms to see no other material supporting your chest. Jisung was mesmerized once again. Another surface area that he wanted his hands on immediately.

“I can’t believe you heard me fuck other girls and never said anyti-”

“Shhh,” you hushed, pressing your folds firmer against Jisung’s cock. Your best friend reach for your hips immediately, in shock of your bold actions, “I don’t fucking care Jisung it’s fine just touch me, please.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he huffed, palms snaking past your abdomen and gripping onto your tits hard, firm, rough. Ugh. Nothing had ever felt so good in your life. All this time you thought Jisung was a stupid little pathetic boy, with the occasional fuck here and there. God, it would almost make you laugh at how incorrect your perception was of him in the bedroom. Truth was, he knew what he was doing, because your arousal was doing nothing but increasing with each longing moment that his wood was not inside of you.

“Soft fucking tits,” Jisung mumbled, almost drooling as he slapped one of your nipples, the skin imeediadtely turning hard as he brought his lips to to the bud. His teeth appeared, claws like, as he took the same one in his mouth, not returning for breath as he nippled, licked, sucked; you name it, Jisung was doing that. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, head rolling back in pleasure, “how are you so good at everything you do?”

A chuckle escaped Jisung’s lips, the vibration felt across the entirety of your chest, “I’m not I-”

The two of you paused, freezing entirely when you heard Jisung’s phone ring. He glazed over, noticing the words “Mom” written across the top of the screen. He looked away as he turned back to you, that look of hunger dilating his pupils. The temporary freeze made Jisung long for you even more.

“Jisung,” you whispered, hands placed across his face and upper neck, “you should answer.”

“No,” he huffed, attaching his lips over your neck sporadically, “if it’s an emergency she’ll call me again. I’m busy.”

The phone was silent for maybe a few seconds, before it began to ring again. Jisung scoffed, removing his hands from you as he picked up his phone. 

Your joint and lighter were in arms reach. You ignored the conversation, bringing the material to your lips and lighting it up again, your body relaxing even more as you took a deep breath in, feeling the substance sink into your skin, blowing out the remnants after. Your eyes turned to Jisung, his already on you, eyeing the joint in your hand. He leaned forward, waiting for you to put the joining between his lips. You complied, bringing the flame in unison. Jisung mumbled his words for a brief moment before blowing out the air.

“Yes mom,” he answered, “I’m fine. Y/n is fine, I just checked in on her.”

A small giggle came to your lips, followed by Jisung covering them. Removing his appendages, you decided to stand up, letting go of Jisung on his lap as you dropped to your knees. Like a predator, you crawled over, eye level with his knees. Jisung’s brows furrowed, taking him a bit of time to realize what you were about to do. He was still on the phone, talking to his mum about god knows what. That wasn’t your focus for now. It was spreading his legs wide, Jisung’s hardness evident as it spread across his groin. Your lips curled upward as you situations yourself where you needed to be, Jisung’s eyes widening as he realized what you were about to do.

“Yes I am s-sutdying hard,” Jisung shuttered, the sudden touch being your hand wrapped around the base of him startling him, “j-just finished one a-assignment today.” 

A deep, lustrous chuckle escaped your mouth as you began to pump him, watching your best friend’s sensitivity, squirming at the touch. Jisung was doing everything in his power not to moan, prevent knowing how much effect you had on him, and form his mum knowing what he was doing.

“Mom can I c-call you back l-later, bit b-bust, busy right now.”

Jisung’s body jolts forward the moment he felt your tongue on the underside of him, making its way to his tip. He hung up the phone, tired of this torture as his hands found their way through your hands immediately. His sign of eagerness felt so good, the gentle tug from him begging you to go down on him completely driving you wild. The pain mixed in with pleasure immediately, traveling to your core and pulsating harder than it has ever felt in your life. Jisung was lengthy, but that was no problem. Beginning, slowly, you took him into your mouth, a guttural moan bleeding from his lips as his head rolled back with ease. 

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, almost running of out of room to breath, “you’re so fucking good at this baby”

A slight moan fell from your lips at the use of the pet name. Jisung’s head snapped back down immediately to you, catching your gaze in an instant. Your eyes looked bigger to him, doe like. It was driving Jisung wild; he could’ve finished right then and there. Being high and having the elevated physical sensation from your magical touch was something he could live with forever, maybe become addicted to. If this is what life felt like under the influence, he now wanted this all the time.

“Mmmh,” you sighed, a large pop and breath coming from your lips as you replaced your hand, “you taste so good Sungie.” 

Your free hand traveled down your body, descending to the apex between your thighs to satisfy that ache that was growing with intensity with every second passed. The attempt to hide your pleasure was amateur, biting down on your bottom lip as a stifled groan left your lips.

“Y/n, baby,” Jisung purred, leaning forward and grabbing your forearms, “come here.”

You did as you were told, helping him hoist you back onto his lap. The brush of him against you this time is 10x more powerful and intense. Nothing had ever felt like this before; you never wanted this to end. Jisung scanned you again, looking up and down one more time before seizing the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. You gasped, hands immediately clamping onto him as you leaned forward, reattaching your lips to his.

Above everything, Jisung’s lips felt the best. This symbolized so many times, conscious and unconscious, did you think about how they would feel. What they would taste like. How other girls thought Jisung’s lips tasted and felt like. Jisung smiled as he pulled away, the devilishly handsome smile on his face as he leaned into your ear, “sit next to me baby.” 

It seemed that the only thing you could do was be obedient to Jisung. His orders were like music to your ears. In your friendship dynamic, you tended to be the more domineering one. Making decisions for Jisung, whereas he was the more nonchalant friend. Always happy to go with the flow, as long as he was with you. This time, may things were different.

Jisung sat in the same place with his legs spread. Leaning over, he grabbed you by the thigh closest to him, fingers dancing across the skin on the inside of your thigh as his lips turned upward again. All of a sudden you felt nervous. Watching your best friend ogle you was a strange feeling. Jisung immediately noticed your energy shift.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah,” your eyes widened, looking directly at him.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah? Yeah! Sorry, let me have another puff.”

Jisung saw you grab the joint and the lighter again, bringing to your lips before he reached for your wrist, pushing the objects away, forcing your attention to be on him only.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you interjected, bringing the material and lighting the tip once more, “I fucking want you. I just zoned out for a second.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, followed by his cheek, back of the ear and down to his neck, cascading hisdown to the middle of his chest. Jisung giggled at the feeling, the tickling sensation emitting fire throughout his body. He returned the favor, placing a kiss atop of your breast before he reached for his own joint, handing you the lighter, “Will you do me the honors?”

“Fuck yes I will,” you marvelled at his enthusiasm, lighting up the joint without a hesitation, watching him sit back and close his eyes, taking everything in. You did the same, wanting to embrace that feeling that resulted in you buying this in the first place. 

It was as if the last puff recharged your best friend, his eyes reopening, that dark, lustful caste creeping back into them as he reached for you, pushing your leg out of the way, hand clasping your inner thigh. There was no sign of his movement stopping, fingers already pushing your folds across, almost as if they were in the way completely. A sharp gasp fell from your lips the moment his middle finger touched your clit, the sensation overwhelming immense as he began to move in circular motions. Jisung’s touch was gentle, in reality, he was barely applying any pressure. But in this moment, the pleasure you were deriving from his fingers was tenfold. Eyelids were fluttering, it felt like you could barely keep up with him. It wasn’t until you saw Jisung’s cock twitch out of the corner of your eye that you knew what you had to do. 

It was time for your hand to snake around his body, but, in contrast to Jisung, you did not want to wait. There was no time to tease; you were simply too desperate. Fingertips found his weak spot fast, dexterity sloppy wrapped around your best friend once again as you matched the pace he found on you. It was slow, sensual, anything to build the pressure between your thighs, and between his. 

“Y/n, baby,” he whined, a deep groan following, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now.”

A seductive chuckle escaped your lips, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now too Sungie.”

“Fuck I love it when you call me that with your voice all fucked up and groggy.”

“Sungie baby, I always call you that,” you paused, bringing short circuiting from the finger that Jisung slipped inside of you, “what’s so d-different about it now.”

“You always turn me on Y/n,” Jisung grogged back, “always,” he smiled, pausing again, “especially right now.”

A small heat came to your cheeks, hips gently dragging across his fingers. God, was this what heaven felt like? Your hand picked up in speed, Jisung reacted immediately with a gentle whine. The noises he made to you were like an orchestra playing its grand piece. Another side of Jisung that you had not seen, but were mesmerized by. It was a whole new world. A whole new territory of risk that the two of you had decided to explore. However, all rational and logical decisions were thrown out the window a very long time ago. Jisung wrapped his free hand around your breast, clasping onto your nipple as he entered another finger into you, index and middle finger picking up their pace, adding the squelching sound of your wetness as another sound that filled your tiny dorm room. Dorm room. You forget momentarily how thin the walls were; but who gives a fuck? It’s not like Jisung was going to hear. He was the one that was making you moan over and over anyway.

“Sungie,” you whimpered, “feels so good.”

“Say my name like that again.”

“Sungie.”

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing deeper into your walls, “your pussies screaming for me.”

“It’s your pussy,” you breathed, the tremors of your release beginning to rumble, “no one has ever turned me on this much Sungie.”

Your best friend had a smirk of approval, curling the tip of his two fingers inside of you. A small shriek escaped your lips, hand flailing from his cock as your jaw dropped at once. Hips bucked up and off the couch, a sinister chuckle coming from Jisung as he watched your hips squirm for him. He was possessed by the way your body reacted to him, reacted to his touch, he did not pay two minds to the throbbing sensation between his legs. All he could see was that you were slowly losing it. 

You did not care. You were waiting close and closer, deeper and deeper, hitting a spot that has never been touched in your life. Your mouth was getting bigger, hips moving with less and less rhythm. There was an impending feeling that you knew was going to happen, it was only a matter of seconds. 

“Sungie I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Jisung cooed, eyes fixated on your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline, “cum for me.”

A borderline scream left your lips when your hips plowed to the couch, an rupture of pleasure cascaded of the entirety of your body, legs shaking and howling in pain like they never had before. Your chest was breathing heavy, deep in unison with Jisung’s as he removed his fingers, your pussy aching from the lack of fullness. Jisung leaned over, pressing a kiss to your neck in several places before your lips. He waited until your eyelids stopped fluttering shut for you to see him bring those sinful digits to his mouth, and suck on them, hard, a deep groan leaving his lips at the taste. 

“Fuck you taste good,” he winked, causing both of you to start giggling. 

It did not take long for your eyes to travel to his still very hard cock. Your hands traveled immediately, both encompassing the majority of him before you began pumping, hard. To anyone with an outside view, this was not classy sex. It was sloppy, but the two of you were so high that it was perceived the former way. Jisung needed your touch, you needed to touch him. Jisung wasn’t far off either, and the fact that you were looking at him with vigor, with desire was bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

“Y/n slow down, I’m gonna cum too quick.”

“No such thing,” you purred, adding your tongue into the mix, flicking your tongue along the slit of his tip.. You leaned over, Jisung resting his hands across your ass as you coaxed one moan after out of him. Jisung’s head snapped back, unable to comply with the amount of pressure he was feeling. In a similar fashion to you, his hips began to buck, tip slipping into your mouth as his sounds got louder, his pleading becoming stronger.

“Y/n fuck, s-shit I’m gonna cum, Y/n I’m gonna cum.”

Jisung’s voice became whiny, the tone music to your ears as you moved your mouth away from his length, bringing your lips to the crook of his neck and collarbone, gently nipping on the soft spot on his skin as his muscles coiled underneath your body, cock getting harder under his hands as he hit his peak. Ropes and ropes of him squirted across his stomach, a deep groan, one sounding of relief bursting from his lips as he gripped your wrist, chuckling to stop you from a sensory overload.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, regaining his compures as he grabbed you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, deep kiss. The pressure on your neck was comforting, a smile turning on your lips as you pulled away. 

“Wow,” Jisung gasped, “That was,”

“What took you so long?”

“Y/n, shut up,” Jisung spat, the fatigue hitting him suddenly, “woah, I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” you smirked, the room erupted in laughter as Jisung laid back on the couch, pulling you into him as the two of you looked at the ceiling. Your substance affected mind was starting to wear off, causing your exhaustion tenfold. The two of you drifted off to sleep almost immediately. 

“When I wake up, you're gonna get it,” Jisung mumbled, but you were already asleep. 

Depending on how you felt when you woke up, that would change everything.

[selineram3421]

*a lot of readers loving this fic* Daaaang.

Hissy Kitty

Part 5

Part 4

Alastor X Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ deer man still trying to stay in denial, blood/gore, Italics= thoughts, partial nudity mention, Bold= time shifts, gif is reader's shadow form. ⚠

Alastor felt like he was at the end of a shotgun barrel.

He froze, his hands shaking slightly and his undead heart thumping rapidly.

Quite a daring thing to say...

Husk stared at him in slight shock and something else. Something that the deer demon couldn't decipher. The two stood still, not moving an inch, just watching who would make the first move. Almost like an old west duel.

Finally, after a long silence, one of them spoke up.

"Leave them alone."

In all honesty, the cat demon had no idea what to do about this...situation, but he knew the Radio Demon. His boss was nothing but a cruel, insane, egotistical man who wanted power and control.

"I don't give a shit about what you do to me, but I know if you hurt me, they'll hate you.", Husk said before turning to leave the radio tower. "Whatever thing you've got? It's best to get rid of it now."

And with that, the feline left.

Now Alastor was alone, just like he wanted but he couldn't get rid of the thought of what the ex Overlord had said.

He couldn't deny it any longer.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before making his way over to his chair.

I'll avoid them like the plague... He decided.

He stayed away for two weeks.

Leaving a room whenever they stepped foot inside, staying in his room, office, or radio tower when he didn't know where they were in the hotel.

And then something snapped.

The thought was screeching in his mind, clawing at his chest, a never ending cycle of want.

He had to-

No.

Needed to tell them.

Maybe confessing would help stop that feeling.

With the last of his sanity, Alastor stepped out of his radio tower and went to search for them with the help of his shadows.

.

You were confused at first by the absence of the red dressed demon but thought nothing of it since your brother seemed happier.

Charlie had given you the new job of welcoming new guests at the front desk but well...its been very boring.

No one checks in.

Like at all. The demons that do come in ask for directions and then there's Cherri Bomb, Angel's friend who stops by for a second or two. So, you spent most of your days talking to your brother at the bar, leaving a "ring the bell for assistance" sign at the check-in counter.

You held a glass of very diluted iced catnip tea, your brother made sure to make it that way so you don't run around the hotel like last time.

"Ugh.", you hid your face in embarrassment.

I can't believe Husk planned that. That jerk! You sighed. I did enjoy the nap after though..

Then your thoughts continued until it wound up to the last conversation you had with your brother about the red dressed demon.

After telling him what happened, Husk stood up real quick and said he'd be right back. Then he came back with snacks and his poker face.

What your brother doesn't know is that you can actually read his poker face. It's very, very faint, but his ears give him away. Depending on the way that it flicks, you can tell how bad a situation is.

And his ear flicked back twice.

Which means he doesn't like the current cards in his hand.

What did he get? You wonder and sip your drink.

Some more time passes and the next time you see Alastor in the same room as you is when the King comes to visit the hotel.

Keekee is in your arms and hops out once Lucifer stops hugging Charlie.

Things take a turn after some random flapper shows up and then there are shark sinners.

"MY WINDOWS!", Nifty screeches in horror.

It goes to shit really quickly, everything is too loud, everyone is running around and trying to stay out of the shooting range of the flaming boulders, and you were overstimulated with all of the things happening at once.

"GET BEHIND THE COUNTER KIT!", Husk grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you towards the bar.

You make a face once seeing the flapper, the reason loan sharks are attacking the hotel, is hiding behind the counter.

"Oh fuck this.", you sigh and walk away.

No wonder your brother said not to come here.

Its too loud..

The banging on the door didn't stop until the Radio Demon stepped out and the screams took over.

Too loud.

"I will devour each and every one of you!"

You covered your ears in pain, wishing you brought your headset.

"ITS TOO FUCKING LOUD!", you yell out.

.

Alastor reminisces when these feelings solidified.

It was when Lucifer and Mimzy showed up at the hotel. He had his fun messing around with the King, making the short blonde feel jealous.

Then Mimzy barged in, which is not a surprise, and started chatting up with the others.

What annoyed him was when Husk mentioned the deal that he, the Radio Demon, had made. Reminding him that he too needed to stay within range so his collar didn't choke his neck.

Then after taking care of Husk, he made his way downstairs to take care of Mimzy's mess.

And that's when it happened.

As he was ripping apart some of the loan sharks, he heard screaming from inside the hotel. Turning to deal with the ones that managed to slip past him, he finds a shadow creature with multiple eyes dragging the left over sharks into the darkness.

"NO! No, no, no, no, no! AH-!", a shark screamed before the shadow tore open his stomach and ripped out his intestines.

"Kit! You gotta calm down!", Husk yelled out.

"That's your little sibling!?", Angel screeched. "What the fuck happened!?"

"It was too damn loud, that's what happened!"

The two continued to bicker as they tried to move the shadow out of the hotel.

A piece of rubble fell and Mimzy side stepped away from it. "Oops. Sorry about the mess. I'm sure the little bug can handle it."

"Mimzy.", Alastor went back to his normal size and made his way towards the hotel. "I believe it's time for you to leave. Now."

"What-? Come on, you don't mean that~", the flapper laughs. "This dump doesn't mean anything to ya! And you love taking care of me!"

"I can't have you making a mess here.", he replied. "You can stay if you want to be redeemed.", he turned to look back at the short woman. "But we both know that's not your style."

"Fine! I don't need you! Have fun at this ritzy dump and-!"

Alastor ignored the rest and walked into the hotel lobby. Husk was the only one taking care of the shadow beast, while Angel was watching whatever was going on between the two royals with the others.

"It's ok now, calm down.", the cat demon said to the shadow in the corner.

"What or who is this?", the deer demon asks and points to the shadow creature.

"Pretty sure you ain't deaf, you heard Angel yell it out.", Husk said and started..purring?

"My! I didn't know you could make such an adorable sound!", he grinned.

"Shut up!", the cat hissed quietly. "They need to calm down, loud noises only make it worse!"

"Well, why didn't you say that sooner?"

With a snap of his fingers, he teleported the three of them into his room in the greenery area.

"The only sounds in here are nature, will this do?", Alastor asked.

"Yes, this is fine.", Husk nodded before getting focused, and pulled the shadow closer. "Kit? Listen. You're ok now.", he said and started purring again.

Their shadow figure was still too large, so the radio demon decided to add in some of his white noise static, earning a look from Husker.

"It helps.", was all he said.

Slowly but surely, the shadow got smaller and smaller before going back into a familiar figure. The darkness on their form began to fade away, starting from the tips of their feet/paws.

Before the shadow fully receded, Husk held out his hand.

"Give me a blanket or somethin'."

"Whatever for?", he asked with a raised brow.

"You wanna see them naked?"

Alastor quickly took off his coat and handed it over.

In a quick motion, the cat demon covered his sibling in the red fabric and wrapped an arm around their shoulders, holding them securely as they passed out.

A few moments passed before the demon in red decided to ask his question.

"What exactly happened?"

Husk was quiet for a bit and then sighed.

"I'll let them tell you."

Now, Alastor stood in front of your hotel room.

He felt like it was as if it was his first broadcast all over again. His nerves were all over the place and his hands felt tingly.

Clearing his throat, he prepared himself and knocked on their door.

"Dear? Are you there? There is something I wish to discuss with you."

A few heartbeats later, the door opens.

"Come in."

*flops over* I'm done for now. Stay tuned.

~Seline, the person.

Part 6

Taglist@

*In comments because there are SO many*

ML I for Alastor🎙️ | HK ChL😾

[deusfoundry]

i've got no idea if you are writing right now but i would love myself a fem!reader x kageyama. love you xx

U KNOW WHAT NONNIE i would love myself a kageyama x reader too hehe so here u go!!

p.s. i was half asleep when i wrote this literally i was fighting to keep my eyes open so its not my best pls forgive me i tried

you remember the conversation you had with tobio so, so clearly, almost as if it was yesterday. which, you think, isn't entirely untrue considering it occurred barely two weeks ago.

tobio had outright rejected the idea of keeping your relationship a secret.

"why would i want to hide the fact that you're my girlfriend?"

and you try not to melt into a puddle over his bluntness, the way the words my girlfriend rolled off his tongue with ease. he didn't stutter. didn't trip over his words. you were his.

you cite a few reasons why he would consider it, all of which are valid in your eyes. backlash from fans. reduced sponsorships. less guest appearances on evening talk shows. factors that were valuable to his career. but he had told you, with an almost terrifying conviction, that he doesn't care. so long as he still gets to be on the court, the less-athlete and more-celebrity side of his career doesn't matter to him.

so you two agreed on a compromise. you would ease your relationship to the world, slowly letting more and more people know until it's out in the public.

and the first ones to know are the ones closest to you both. your family and his sister. your friends and his old teammates from highschool.

shoyo had been the first person he called when you agreed to be his girlfriend on one of your at-home dates. you can recall peering into your apartment's living room after a quick trip to the bathroom, watching tobio with his back hunched near the corner.

"she said yes." he whispered into his phone, and you could hear shoyo's overexcited screaming even though he's not on speaker.

next, was your boss. though workplace relationships aren't explicitly stated in your contract to be forbidden, it's highly still discouraged. in turn, you two had gotten an almost hour long lecture about policies and rules. about what this could mean for not only your careers, but for everyone else on the team as well. about the public's possible response.

and with a practiced, corporate smile, you reassured your boss that you have it all under control.

the last people in your four-part plan to find out would've been tobio's teammates and coach, before you (when you're both ready) make an announcement on all of schweiden adlers' social media accounts.

it was so easy, and tobio had agreed to follow through with it. you remember because he swore with a kiss on the edge of your lips and a shy smile that he would.

which is why you're equally dumbfounded and shocked when he announced your relationship to the public. during a post-match press conference. on live, national television.

satisfaction began to settle in halfway through the presscon. the team was doing great. they answered every question with ease, behaved as well as they could. there were moments of playful banter between the members that the fans would go crazy over. every reporter followed through the brief you gave them earlier about which questions they could and couldn't ask (heavily emphasizing no questions about kourai's height).

it was going so well.

until one of the reporters asked one particular question. it was done in good faith, you could tell by the small grin on her face and the quiet chuckles from everyone. she was playing off an inside joke from the adlers' fanbase which, to your confusion, seemed to adore you just as much as the members of the team.

"is your manager single?"

hirugami laughs, toying a bit with the microphone in his hand before he opens his mouth to answer the question in the same lighthearted nature.

except, tobio beats him to it.

"she's not."

the room falls silent. everyone, even his teammates, look at tobio with intrigue.

"r- really, kageyama-san?" she's damn near shaking, the poor lady, when she realizes tobio's eyes are on her. all bright and blue and intense.

he decides to spare her when he takes a moment to look at you, standing near the side of the stage. you're glaring daggers at him, trying to convey with your two eyes multiple warning signs in big, bold, and red letters.

please don't.

and tobio, who has grown to be perceptive when it comes to you, knows exactly what you mean. he just doesn't have it in him to care right now.

"i should know. i'm her boyfriend."

your mouth falls wide open. the only thought that runs through your mind is you two are so fucking screwed. this wasn't part of the plan you meticulously arranged and presented to your boss.

you don't know how long the silence lasts until kourai decides to break it.

"i knew it!" he says, slamming the velvet cloth covering the long panel table. the sound brings you out of your daze. "i knew something was going on between you two."

you think there's no possible way this situation can get worse, but wakatoshi nods in agreement, which brings about an onslaught of hungry reporters asking questions left and right. you take this as your cue to rush in and call off the presscon.

"is it true?"

"how long have you two been dating?"

"did kageyama-san really ask you out?"

you drown them out to the best of your abilities, ignoring the less than kind and backhanded questions directed towards you. tobio looks into your eyes as he passes by you in the line of players you're ushering off the stage, but you quickly avert your gaze.

"we'll talk later." you mouth.

after gathering their belongings from the locker room, the team piles onto the bus to head back to their home court. tobio settles into one of the seats near the back, saving the window seat for you.

he waits, watches in anticipation as you step inside the bus. you catch his pleading eyes right as you're about to take a seat in an empty row on the front.

you try to resist. really, you do. but you've never been the best at denying tobio. for more times than you care to admit had you been the subject of teasing by the team for entertaining each and every request that tobio makes.

so you sigh, before making the long walk to the back of the bus.

tobio allows you to scoot inside after helping you with shoving your backpack inside the overhead compartment. the bus springs to life right as you take your seat, engines silently roaring as it begins the trip back home.

a moment of silence passes before tobio takes your hand in his.

"i'm sorry." he says, dragging his thumb over the lines on your palm with each syllable.

"are you really?"

tobio pauses, almost contemplating. "you'd feel better if i didn't answer that."

a quiet laugh falls off your lips. of course you already knew the answer to that. tobio has always been unapologetically open about what he wants.

screw his old teammates for going with all his demands.

tobio's ministrations on your hand doesn't stop. in fact, it grows more frantic by the second. lazy movements turn into his thumb rushing back and forth against your skin. it means he wants to ask you something, and he's hoping this will silently convey his question.

"i'm not mad." in an instant, his worries are quelled. you move closer to lean your head on his shoulder. he plants his head on top of yours.

your limbs melt into each other until you're not sure where you end and tobio begins.

"but you didn't have to say that, you know. hirugami was handling it." you give him a light nudge.

"they were asking if you were single," tobio scoffs, turning his head so he can nuzzle his face against your hair. he breathes you in. your scent overtakes his senses until the only thing he knows is you. that you are his. "i think i have the right to answer that."

"god your publicist must hate you." you roll your eyes. "our boss must hate us right now too."

"don't care." he pries himself off the crown of your head, leaning down to latch his lips on your jaw.

tobio leaves one kiss, right at the very edge. you tip your head to the side so he can leave another on the flesh of your neck. he's about to plant a kiss just above your collarbone when wakatoshi chimes in from the seat in front of you.

"it's not very appropriate to make out on the bus."

you jump away from each other, cheeks flushing red now that the entire team's attention is on you. but you can't find it in you to care enough to tell them off. the hollering and the teasing matters less than the fact that you have tobio, right by your side.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[ganxiously]

This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness. 

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips.  He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue. 

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[diamonddaze01]

love you the mostest

pairing: ljh x reader genre: fluffy fluffy fluffy | wc: 2.2k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: my love letter to lee jihoon - happy birthday <3 // also big thanks to @chanranghaeys for convincing me to write this all as one big fic i love u muah

summary: happy birthday, jihoon.

The room was still dark, save for the faintest sliver of light peeking through the edges of the curtains, hinting at the dawn breaking outside. The soft hum of the early morning and the rhythmic rise and fall of Jihoon’s breath were the only sounds, a quiet lullaby of intimacy.

You had woken up long before your alarm, the quiet stirrings of the city pulling you from sleep. Jihoon’s schedule was packed today, like it always was, and you wanted to steal this moment—when the world was still asleep and his mind hadn't yet been claimed by the chaos. He was so calm in the mornings, his body relaxed and at peace, the stillness of sleep wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

You shifted slightly under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, inviting you to stay close. His hand found yours, fingers threading together almost instinctively, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His exhale tickled your skin as he pulled you in, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. The familiar weight of him settled against you, grounding you in the moment.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for just a beat longer than usual. Pulling back, you brushed a strand of hair away from his face, his eyes barely open, still clouded with sleep. He blinked up at you, his hand tightening around yours as though to ensure you were real, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Mm... so early," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sorry, Hoonie," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "I couldn’t wait to tell you."

He stirred just a little, his arms pulling you closer, his lips grazing your jawline, a barely audible sound escaping his lips. "Tell me what?"

You grinned at how endearing he looked, his sleepy smile making your heart flutter. "Happy birthday," you whispered, your words soft but full of warmth, just for him, in the quiet stillness of the room.

His eyes fluttered open fully now, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite understand. Then, a soft, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his voice, still rough from sleep, was filled with warmth. "It’s too early for that, you know?"

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his messy hair. "I know. But I wanted to be the first to wish you."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you in closer, his lips brushing against your neck once more as he sighed. "You’re always the first," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "And the best part of my day, too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the sincerity in his words, even through the haze of sleep. The morning light, gentle now, cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more angelic than usual.

"I’m glad," you murmured, your voice full of affection as you tightened your embrace. "You deserve everything, Jihoon. I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve."

He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut, the exhaustion of his day lingering in the way he held you close. But then, his lips brushed your cheek, a soft kiss that lingered just long enough to make your heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just gentle, an invitation to stay in this moment with him.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as his lips hovered near your skin, warm and tender. A moment passed, and his mouth brushed the corner of your lips, so faint it almost felt like a dream. The kiss was lazy and slow, drawn out, as though he was savoring the sensation of being close to you.

His hand found its way to your arm, his fingers tracing up your skin with a light touch, sending a shiver down your spine. He tugged you in closer, his body pressing against yours, and the weight of him was both heavy and comforting. The space between you disappeared, leaving only the soft press of his lips and the gentle rhythm of your breath.

"Too far away," he murmured, his voice low and still thick with sleep, as if waking to the reality of the moment. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention, the kiss deepening as if he couldn’t quite pull away. It was slow, not desperate, but full of the kind of closeness that only two people who had shared so many quiet mornings could understand.

You melted into him, your heart fluttering with the familiarity of it all. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm only the two of you knew, a rhythm that spoke of years of being in sync with each other, of a bond forged in the most ordinary yet profound moments.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing softly, trying to slow the quickening beat of your hearts. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart full with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You need to get some rest, Hoonie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "You’ve got a long day ahead."

He groaned, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Just a little longer..."

You shook your head gently, kissing his forehead, lingering there for a moment before you tucked yourself closer to him. "No, you’ve got schedules today. You need to sleep."

Jihoon’s arms tightened around you for a second, and he sighed, his face nuzzling into your neck once more. "Fine," he muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "But just a few more minutes."

You grinned, letting yourself relax into him, the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you both back into the quiet comfort of the morning. The world outside could wait just a little longer.

It’s nearly 2 AM when Jihoon comes home, the faint jingle of his keys breaking the stillness of the apartment. The door creaks open, and the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood announces his presence. He stands in the entryway, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes are heavy, his body aching from the endless hours spent in the studio.

But then he notices it—the living room.

The space is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Balloons in every color scatter across the floor like a rainbow had exploded inside. In the center of the coffee table, a small cake sits proudly, its frosting delicately swirled and an unlit candle standing tall in the middle. The sight alone eases the tight coil of tension in his chest, but it’s the figure on the couch that truly stops him.

It’s you.

You’re curled up, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, legs tucked underneath you. The faint rise and fall of your chest in sleep makes his heart twist. You look so peaceful, your hair slightly mussed and your face soft with dreams. Jihoon stands there for a moment, drinking you in, before a quiet laugh escapes him. How is it that even now, you manage to make him feel like the luckiest person alive?

“Baby?” he calls softly, his voice low and careful, barely above a whisper.

You stir at the sound, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Blinking blearily, you meet his gaze, your expression drowsy but warm.

“Jihoon?” you murmur, your voice laced with sleep.

He steps closer, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, love,” he says, moving to the couch and gently lifting your legs to settle them on his lap. His hands are warm and careful as they touch you, and you sigh at the familiarity. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to reassure himself that you’re really here. “What’s all this?”

“Birthday surprise,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep as you rub your eyes.

Jihoon chuckles, a low sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “It’s 2 AM. My birthday’s over, love.”

That wakes you a little more. You sit up abruptly, your mock-serious expression drawing a playful scoff from him. “I’d celebrate with you any day, any time, forever, love of my life,” you declare dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart.

He rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrays him. “Alright then, troublemaker,” he teases, “let’s celebrate.”

Sliding off the couch, Jihoon pulls you with him, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He tugs at your hands until you’re seated sideways in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to anchor you there.

His gaze flickers to the candle. “Well?” he prompts, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to light it?”

You reach for the lighter, flicking it until a tiny flame dances atop the wick. The room glows warmly, the light catching on Jihoon’s features—his sharp jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the faint tiredness that lingers in his eyes. Your breath hitches. He’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, with his gaze fixed only on you, he’s breathtaking.

You hum a quiet, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Jihoon sways you gently as you sing, his hands rubbing slow circles into your back. When you finish, he leans forward to blow out the candle, the flame flickering briefly before disappearing.

“Make a wish?” you ask softly.

His lips curve into a faint smile. “Don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice like a secret meant only for you. “I already have everything I want.”

The words make your heart stutter. He leans back against the couch, and you press a kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline, your lips brushing against his skin as softly as the light in the room.

Jihoon reaches for the cake with his fingers, tearing off a small piece and holding it out to you. “Forgot the plates, huh?” he teases, his lips twitching with amusement.

You laugh, taking the offered bite. The frosting melts on your tongue, sugary and sweet, but nothing compares to the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

“You know,” he muses, brushing a thumb over the corner of your lips to catch a stray crumb, “in Brazil, people give the first slice of their birthday cake to the person they love most.”

The simple, tender confession undoes you. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s soft and deep, and he sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. He tastes like frosting and everything good in the world, and you think you could drown in him forever.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon,” you whisper when you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together. “I love you the most, too.”

His lips brush against your temple as he replies, “Thank you, my love.”

The two of you sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a faint backdrop to Jihoon’s voice as he softly hums a melody into your hair.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, love?” he answers, his tone low and warm.

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

A faint smirk curves his lips. “Well done, troublemaker. Very astute observation.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you dip your finger into the frosting. “So that means I can do this!”

Before he can react, you swipe your frosting-covered hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of sprinkles and sugary chaos behind.

For a moment, he just stares at you, mouth agape in mock horror. Then his eyes narrow, and a grin overtakes his features.

“Why, you little—”

You’re on your feet in an instant, laughter spilling from your lips as you dart toward the bedroom. Jihoon’s laughter rings out as he chases you, catching you with ease and tackling you onto the bed.

“Got you now,” he declares, pinning your wrists to the mattress, his fingers digging mercilessly into your sides as you shriek with laughter.

“Jihoon, stop!” you gasp between giggles. “The sheets—they’re new!”

He pauses, his expression mock-serious. “Fine,” he relents, releasing your wrists. “Only because the sheets are white.”

“And because you love me?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“And because I love you,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. “I love you the mostest. Thank you for the best birthday.”

Lying back on the bed, you let out a contented sigh, your heart full. There’s no one else you’d rather celebrate with—2 AM or not.

[tinytinyblogs]

Do it again, and things will get ugly.

Yandere skz not pleased with your little habit—make sure you understand that.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

You’re completely immersed in your book, the world around you fading as you turn the pages. Reading is your favorite escape, a quiet comfort that brings you peace. But just as you’re sinking deeper into the story, a hand suddenly snatches the book out of your grasp. You blink, startled, realizing that Han is standing in front of you. Without warning, he hurls the book across the room with a force that sends it crashing against the wall, the loud thud jolting you out of your peaceful reverie. The book lands on the floor, pages crumpled, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. “Have you even noticed I’ve been here this whole time?” His voice cuts through the silence, filled with a sharp edge of anger that makes your heart skip a beat. “Are those stupid words more interesting to you than me?” There’s frustration in his tone, but there’s something else too—a raw vulnerability, as if he’s trying to mask his own insecurities with anger. You look up at him, seeing the mixture of hurt and irritation in his eyes. It’s more than just frustration; it’s a deep-seated insecurity that rears its head every time you lose yourself in your hobbies.

He hates the way your books seem to draw you away, making him feel like an outsider, as if he’s competing with words on a page for your attention. And no matter how much he tries to ignore it, it eats at him, making him question how much you truly care. He lets out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to steady himself. “Do you even care that I’m here?” he demands, his voice breaking slightly. “Or am I just supposed to sit around, watching you get lost in your own world, feeling like I don’t even exist to you?” His words hang in the air, heavy and filled with an ache he can’t fully hide. You open your mouth to respond, but he continues, the frustration spilling over. “Maybe I should just burn all those books—would that finally get your attention? Make you look at me, instead of always burying yourself in them?” There’s a desperation in his voice now, a vulnerability that’s almost painful to witness, as if he’s baring a part of himself he doesn’t want you to see. For him, it’s not just about the books or your hobbies—it’s about the fear that maybe he’s not enough to hold your attention, that he’ll never mean as much to you as those stories do.

And as he stands there, waiting for you to say something, you can see how much this truly bothers him, how much he longs for reassurance that he’s not invisible to you. "If you want to keep those books, you'd better not get too lost in them," he says, his voice low and firm, each word measured and carrying an unmistakable warning. He steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours, trapping you between his arms as he braces himself on either side of you. The intensity in his eyes pins you in place, leaving you feeling cornered, as if there’s nowhere to escape his scrutiny. "I don’t like it when you ignore me," he continues, his tone tinged with a simmering frustration. His eyes are dark and unwavering, searching yours as if demanding an answer, needing to know that you understand what he’s saying. There’s a raw, almost possessive edge in his voice, a silent insistence that you remember he’s here—that he’s the one who should have your attention. He leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, his presence consuming the space between you. “Make sure you’ve got that in your mind,” he says, his voice soft yet laced with a hint of a warning, as if he’s daring you to look away or challenge him.

Felix

Felix’s grip on his glass tightens so much that his knuckles turn a stark white against the dark wood of the bar. He watches you, his gaze unwavering, stormy, his jaw set hard as if biting back words he doesn't want to say. Every so often, he brings his drink to his lips, taking a slow, controlled sip, but his eyes never leave you. His attention is riveted on you, locked onto the way you throw your head back with laughter, the way you lean in, smiling, as you engage with the people around you. He’s watching every detail, every casual brush of your hand, every animated gesture, every sparkling smile you offer to those sitting beside you. The laughter surrounding you fills the space like a bright, airy melody, but in Felix’s mind, it’s a sound that grates on his nerves, reminding him of something he hates to admit, something he can’t help but resent. He watches you throw yourself into every conversation with that effortless charm of yours, capturing everyone’s attention without even trying. It's something he’s never understood about you—the way you seem drawn to the energy and approval of others, the way you seem to thrive under their gaze.

And you do it all so naturally, like it’s second nature to you, as if it’s simply who you are. But the thought gnaws at him, unsettling him in a way he can’t control. Why do you care so much about what they think? He wonders why his own presence, his own attention, doesn’t seem to be enough for you. Isn’t that all you need? He’s always been there, always the one standing closest to you, watching you, knowing all the little things that make you laugh, the ways your eyes light up, the little gestures you make when you’re deep in conversation. But as much as he knows you, as much as he feels connected to you, this part of you—the part that shines for everyone—remains just beyond his grasp. As soon as the two of you were alone, he grabbed your arm and dragged you back to his place, his grip firm and unrelenting. The door slammed shut behind you, echoing through the room and leaving a tension that was thick and unsettling. His sudden change in demeanor left you feeling uneasy, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. He fixed you with a cold, penetrating stare, his gaze so intense it felt like it was stripping away every layer of defense you had.

"Is it fun getting their attention?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a quiet rage that made his words all the more frightening. The question hung in the air, his deep voice dripping with accusation, making it feel like he could shatter you with just a look. "Is it fun to bask in anyone else's attention but mine? Because from where I’m standing," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "it doesn’t look like there’s anything ‘good’ in you having me but acting like you’re so starved for attention that you have to seek it from anyone else, like some lonely soul without a lover." He took a few slow, deliberate steps toward you, each one calculated, closing the distance between you as his towering frame loomed over you. The intensity in his eyes didn’t waver, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. "This is my warning," he murmured, his voice chilling and measured. "Consider yourself lucky. If I find out you pull something like that again, I’ll make sure you never have the chance to grab anyone’s attention. Ever again." The promise was dark and unmistakable, sending a shiver through you as his gaze held you firmly in place, every word he said echoing in your mind.

Seungmin

It felt profoundly unfair to Seungmin when you didn’t show any gratitude for all the effort he poured into everything he did for you. Every small gesture, every thoughtful act, meant the world to him, yet your indifference stung deeply. He couldn't shake off the frustration that churned within him, particularly when he sensed your ignorance of all his hard work. As you simply nodded at the dessert he had painstakingly learned to make once he discovered it was your favorite, he felt a flicker of anger ignite inside him. The spoon he held felt like a fragile thing in his grip, and he squeezed it tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his emotions. Moments later, unable to bear it any longer, he slammed the spoon onto the table with a sharp clatter that broke the silence, the sound reverberating in the air like a sudden thunderclap. He stood up abruptly, the movement sending a ripple of shock through the room, and began to circle the dining table, his frustration palpable with each stride he took toward you.

He stopped directly in front of you, his expression a mix of hurt and exasperation. “Do you even realize how much I put into this?” he demanded, his voice low but charged with emotion. “I wanted to do something special for you, and all you can do is nod?” The tension between you crackled, and he could feel his heart racing, caught between his desire to express his feelings and the hurt that came from your apparent indifference. His hand trembled with barely contained anger as he faced you, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. “All the things I do for you...” he began, his voice strained, carrying the weight of his frustration. He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, trying to rein in the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to spill over. He needed to calm himself, to gather his thoughts before he let his anger get the best of him. “All the things!” he continued, his voice rising slightly as he struggled to keep his composure. “Can’t you at least say a damn thank you?” The plea hung in the air, echoing with a mix of desperation and hurt.

He looked at you, searching for any sign of acknowledgment, any hint that you recognized the effort he poured into every small gesture, every thoughtful act he had done for you. "Eat this. Now." Seungmin’s voice was low but laced with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His eyes held a stern, unyielding gaze, the kind that left no room for argument. He leaned in closer, his tone taking on a dangerous edge as he spoke, "And from now on, you’re going to be more aware, more grateful for every single damn thing I do for you. Understand?" He held out the spoon firmly, his grip tightening as if daring you to defy him. The way he looked at you made it clear that he expected nothing less than compliance. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, that sent a chill down your spine. "You wouldn’t want to see me mad again, would you?" he added, his voice dropping to a quiet but potent warning. The threat lingered in the air, a reminder of the weight his anger carried, and his gaze bore into you, making it clear that he expected you to listen.

Jeongin

He gets visibly frustrated whenever he sees you stumble or drop something, his eyes always drawn to your every clumsy move, each one stirring his concern. Ironically, he’s just as prone to accidents himself; he knows firsthand how easy it is to get hurt in a split second. Perhaps that’s exactly why his frustration with you grows—it’s not just annoyance but genuine worry because he knows just how much a small misstep can lead to something serious, as he's experienced so many times himself. To keep you safe, he’s become hyper-vigilant, watching over you more closely than you might like. He practically has eyes in the back of his head, always noticing when you’re about to trip or reach for something potentially hazardous. Sometimes, his protectiveness feels almost smothering; he keeps such a close watch that you feel he’s always in the room with you, guiding your every movement, as if trying to control every factor around you. Even when he’s not physically present, you’ll receive a flurry of messages, checking in on what you’re doing and reminding you to be cautious.

Just as your fingers hover over the knife handle, his hand darts out, intercepting you with a firm grasp. “How many times have I told you not to cook by yourself?” he says sharply, his tone tinged with impatience and a protectiveness that feels like it’s crossed the line into control. His gaze is unwavering, locked onto you with an intensity that leaves no room for argument. You let out a sigh, a flicker of frustration and defiance slipping into your voice as you answer, “But I want to. I can handle it. I’m not as helpless as you think.” His expression doesn’t soften for a moment. If anything, your words only seem to harden his resolve. “Just because you want to,” he begins, his voice a low, steady warning, “you think that means I’m going to stand by and let you mess with something that could hurt you?” His eyes flash with an almost parental authority, a refusal to back down. “That’s not how this works.” With a purposeful motion, he nudges the knife away from your reach with the toe of his shoe, making his stance clear.

“If I say no, it’s no,” he states firmly, his voice carrying an edge that’s impossible to ignore. He grips your wrist with a sudden, unyielding force, his fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to make you wince. The pressure is intense, almost as if he wants to leave a lasting mark, a reminder of his control. His gaze is sharp, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. “Understand?” he asks, his voice low and clipped, each word carrying a weight that makes his intentions unmistakably clear. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you,” he continues, his voice tightening. “If I ever catch you doing something I told you not to…” He pauses, allowing the silence to hang between you, thick and charged. His eyes hold yours, unblinking, dark with a fierce resolve that sends a chill down your spine. “I’ll make sure you learn to obey me.” The words linger in the air, a promise and a threat, making it clear that he won’t tolerate any disobedience. His grip remains firm, unyielding, almost daring you to defy him as he lets the message settle in, making sure you know exactly what he expects from you.

[lemon-berri]

A Side That Only You Get to See

Most people know Satoru Gojo as the strongest sorcerer. A formidable force, renowned for his power. Respected by sorcerers and feared by curses and curse users alike. To those who do not know him, he's paramount to a legend. Untouchable. Unreachable.

While the people who work closely with him know another side. The irreverent, goofy sorcerer who fools around on the job and plays pranks on his colleagues. They're all too familiar with his boisterous laugh and unconventional ways. And while his students still respect him, they're comfortable around him like they might be with a friend, or a family member.

That's who he is. A warm personality that lights up a room. Someone who cares deeply for those around him, even if his ways of showing it are unusual. Someone who wants to improve the world around him.

But nobody knows the Gojo you do.

The one who comes home in the early hours of the morning, just to rest in his partners arms. Who's sometimes late to work because he cannot bring himself to let you go. He's enraptured by your touch, lulled into peace by your scent. He's quiet at home, a stark contrast to his usual personality. But he prefers to bask in your presence, to listen to your voice as you tell him about your day, or whatever new interest you've picked up.

The sorcerer who comes home from missions a day early without telling anyone so he can steal some more time with the one he loves. Who plans elaborate surprises, cooks for you and buys you a fresh bouquet every week. He prefers a quiet night at home rather than going out. That way he gets more of your attention.

The Gojo who's easily bored, because he's naturally good at everything, but still takes part in your hobbies and interests. He lets you teach him things he already knows, and sometimes pretends to mess up just so he can see the passion in your eyes as you explain where he went wrong. His cerulean eyes light up whenever you  show him something you've created, and he'll buy you all the supplies you need, if only to see that smile.

Your Satoru, who's love language is physical touch. Who, before meeting you, had kept a barrier between himself and the rest of the world for so long that he'd become afraid to let it down. Who now clings onto you whenever you're home. He gets pouty if you're in sight but not touching him - so make sure to pay extra attention to his facial expressions.

Truly, if anyone else saw him like this he wouldn't care. He's not ashamed to show the world how much he loves you. But a part of him likes the way things are. Its like a secret, between just the two of you. As if your home exists in a world of its own, away from all the curses and higher ups and daily stress. So for now, he'll save his soft side, just for you. A side that only you get to see.

Soooooo I sorta went MIA for a few weeks.. but as we already established I do not have a post schedule so it's okay (right?).

Thank you guys for reading this! As usual it's not proofread and if you point out my spelling mistakes I'll leave and never come back.

Ily all 🩵