#i tried to put the line “i think i love you” in the middle of so high by sellasouls

[gojozballs]

Gojo x Reader "How To Escape A Yandere"

Warning: [This story contains themes of Yandere behavior, manipulation, obsessive love, psychological tension, explicit content, self-harm, and dark themes including death and captivity]

Materialist

Gojo Satoru’s obsessive love traps Y/N in a dangerous, yandere relationship as she desperately tries to escape, blurring the lines between captivity and affection.

Author's POV

Four months. That’s how long Y/N had been stuck in this bizarre, unhinged chapter of her life. Four months since she’d wandered into Japan, thinking she was just ticking off items on her bucket list, and well, she still couldn’t quite figure out how she ended up being the personal prisoner of a man with white hair and a ridiculously cocky grin. But here we are. Four months of high-end apartments, luxury cars, and far too much—Gojo Satoru.

But let's rewind, shall we? To the beginning, when life was much simpler. When she was just a regular tourist, trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. And then, of course, there was that one fateful evening in Shibuya...

Shibuya Streets – 9 PM

Y/N stood in the middle of Shibuya’s neon-lit chaos, wondering if she should check out the ramen shop across the street or maybe that weird little café that looked like it was run by a very angry cat. The possibilities were endless, her trip was unfolding like a tourist's dream but nothing could have prepared her for the interruption that would lead to her captivity.

There he was. A literal vision of perfection, strutting down the street like he owned the whole damn place. White hair, a long black coat that looked like it was made by some world-renowned designer, and a scarf that screamed "I��m too cool to care about the weather." He was practically glowing in the dark, making the neon lights look drab in comparison. And Y/N? She did what any sensible person would do.

She stared.

Not subtlety. None. She wasn’t here for a shy glances situation. No, she was staring, and she was making it known. If she could’ve put on a neon sign that said “LOOK AT ME” she would’ve.

And look at her he did. Their eyes met. The universe, for a brief moment, paused and then everything went into slow motion. Y/N gave him the most casual, confident smirk she could muster. She was practically inviting him to make his move. And boy, did he.

He walked toward her with that strut, the kind of walk that says, “I know you’re impressed. Don’t bother hiding it.” And when he reached her, he didn’t even waste time on pleasantries.

“Well, may I know the name of the lady who’s been blatantly staring at me?”

Y/N blinked. He was speaking in her language. Which, okay, wasn’t exactly a shocker, after all but there was something extra about the way he said it. So smooth, like he knew she’d been checking him out the whole time. She wasn’t even that subtle.

Y/N, being the person she was, didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled and replied, “Well, hello there, sir. I’m Y/N. And who might you be to captivate me so much?”

Gojo chuckled, a sound that was like a warm breeze, and for a moment, Y/N actually considered the possibility that she might have bitten off more than she could chew. But hey, when in Rome or, well, Shibuya right?

“The question isn't who I am,” he said with that signature cocky grin. “It’s why you can’t take your eyes off me.”

Y/N felt a surge of excitement. This was a game. A thrilling, dangerous game. And, of course, she was all in.

“Well,” she purred, “you’ll just have to find out.”

Getting To Know Each Other

Y/N wasn’t sure how it happened. Honestly. One minute she was exchanging playful banter with Gojo Satoru, and the next bam! they were tangled in the sheets of a five-star hotel room, breathing heavily, both far too into each other for their own good.

Gojo, the smug bastard, leaned back on the pillows and let out a satisfied sigh. “Didn’t take you for a woman with experience,” he teased, his voice low and lazy.

Y/N, who was already not in the mood to let him win any round, raised an eyebrow and gave him a playful side-eye. “Well, I didn’t take you for a guy who whimpers.”

She swore she saw a flicker of surprise flash in his eyes, and it made her grin like a devil. Gojo, the untouchable, the most powerful person in Japan whimpering? he thought. Oh, this was getting good.

“You should know,” Gojo said, propping himself up on his elbows, “you were way more vocal than me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, feigning innocence. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Really?” Gojo’s voice was a dangerous whisper. “Well, let’s check again, shall we?”

And just like that, another round began.

Present

Now, four months into this unplanned, absurdly complicated mess of an adventure, Y/N had one very simple, very clear goal: escape.

But there was just one tiny problem. Gojo Satoru. The man was everywhere. Literally. She tried to leave for groceries, and boom, there he was, “accidentally” showing up at the store. She tried to sneak out at night, and suddenly, there he was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“You know, Y/N,” he’d say with that maddening grin, “you can’t run away from me. You’re mine now.”

It was cute at first. But after a while, it got... not so cute. The guy was like a relentless puppy that you couldn’t shake off, except the puppy had limitless power and a twisted sense of humor.

And the worst part? Sometimes, just sometimes, Y/N found herself thinking: What if I didn’t escape?

But nah, that thought was far too dangerous, and she quickly shoved it to the back of her mind. For now, she was focusing on how to, once again, dodge Gojo’s very real and very possessive grasp. But if you ask her, she might just tell you that escaping was a little overrated.

Because let’s face it, Gojo Satoru was a whole lot of trouble, but damn, was he fun to mess with.

Still, if she really wanted to escape a yandere like him, she’d have to get creative. Pretend to like his weird, obsessive affection? Nah, that’s too much of a horror show even for her. The trick? A mix of patience, subtle sabotage like hiding his sunglasses good luck going anywhere without those, Gojo and a touch of psychological warfare. And if that didn’t work, well, maybe she’d just have to fake an even more ridiculous obsession than his and watch him lose his mind. It was a gamble, but Y/N was good at playing games especially when the stakes were her freedom. She doesn’t care about the consequences; all she knows is that she will escape."

The Only Way Out Is to Get Help

First things first: I need to get help. It’s my only shot at escaping from him. If I can reveal Gojo’s true nature, maybe I’ll stand a chance. Every Saturday, a blonde guy in a suit and another man would come over. Gojo always tells me to stay in the room. He doesn’t hide me away from them, but he doesn’t let me interact with them either. So, the timing is crucial. It’s 5 PM now, and they’ll be here around 7. My mission? Stay out of that damn room before he locks me in.

I smile sweetly, playing my part. "Hey, would you let me make you some apple pie tonight? I’ve got all the ingredients." I settle into his lap, his hand sliding possessively over my thigh. One thing about Gojo Satoru? He’s obsessed with sweets, and I know this will keep me out of the room, at least for a little while.

"Aww, baby, you’re the best!" he gushes, and before I can pull away, his lips find mine in a flurry of kisses. I smirk internally. He’s so easy to manipulate when it comes to his weaknesses. This could work if I time it just right.

In the kitchen, I hear the door creak open. I don’t see them, but I know they’ve arrived. The penthouse is huge, but I can hear the sound of their voices echoing down the hall. Gojo’s voice, sharp and commanding, calls out to me.

"Sweetcheeks! How’s the pie going?"

I freeze. My heart starts racing. What if he makes me go to the room? I scramble to keep my composure. "Well, it’s almost done, but I need to keep an eye on it," I stammer. My hands tremble as I pour juice into two glasses. I need to move fast. I can’t let him lock me away.

"Alright, I’ll just be over here for a second… Stay away from the visitors, yeah?" Gojo’s voice isn’t a suggestion it’s a threat. I nod hastily, hoping to hide my anxiety.

This is it. I take a deep breath and make my move.

I step into the living room, hands shaking slightly as I walk toward the two men. They glance at me, and then they stand up, clearly taken off guard by my sudden appearance. The blonde man gives me a polite smile, but there’s something too practiced about it.

"Good evening."

"You didn’t have to. We’re leaving soon anyway," the other man says, his voice neutral as he glances at the juice in my hands.

I can’t waste time. This is my only chance. "Listen to me closely," I say, voice shaking with urgency. "I need to get out of here right now. Please… you have to help me."

Both men look at me, but there’s no shock, no surprise just a quiet understanding, like they’ve heard this before. The blonde man steps closer, his eyes searching mine. "What do you mean?"

My heart pounds in my chest as I spill everything, my voice trembling. "I’m being held captive! By that man. I’ve been here for months! Against my will!" My words come out in a rush, desperate to get them to understand.

But their reactions are not what I expect.

The blonde man simply tilts his head. "Seems like Gojo-san’s stories weren’t exaggerated after all."

I blink, completely thrown off. What the hell do they mean by that? They’re... acting like this is normal?

The smaller man in the suit adds, almost casually, "Well, that’s just Gojo for you."

I stand there, frozen, my mind reeling. They’re not even reacting like it’s a big deal. No shock, no concern just another day at the office for them. It feels as though they’ve seen this all before, as if it’s just another facet of Gojo Satoru that they’ve come to accept. They don’t question it. They don’t intervene.

Before I can ask any more, Gojo’s voice cuts through the air, laced with a dark warning. "Causing a scene, sweetcheeks? I told you to stay away from them."

His hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. There’s no playfulness in his gaze now just raw, unrelenting darkness. "Do you want to see another man that badly?"

And then it hits me. I understand the twisted truth. Gojo isn’t keeping me away from them to protect me. He’s doing it out of jealousy, that sick, possessive urge to control every inch of my life.

The worst part? These men... they’re not surprised. They don’t care. They just accept that this is Gojo’s way, and that’s how things are. There’s no saving me from this nightmare.

I shiver, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I have to find another way because if I stay here any longer, I might lose whatever little of myself I have left.

Freedom in Death

It’s been two weeks since I tried my first escape, two weeks since my wrists were marked by the desperate attempt. The bruises are healing, but the frustration? That never fades. Sure, Gojo’s given me everything: luxury gifts, food so expensive it could make anyone feel guilty, and experiences I’d never known existed before I met him. I should be happy, right? But no, I’m suffocating. It’s not the lavish life I thought I’d always wanted.

I need to disappear. The plan this time? To vanish completely, to make myself a ghost. The thought that Gojo could easily erase me from existence, make me a missing person without even breaking a sweat, has been haunting my every thought. He has power that could bury me without a trace.

I’m already numb, the luxury around me like glitter on a dead body.

“Y/n, babyyyy, I bought caviar for dinner!” Gojo’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, too cheerful for the mood I’m in. I hate it, that forced brightness in his tone that only makes me feel more like a prisoner than anything else. He’s always there, smiling, watching, like I’m just one more toy to add to his collection.

I sigh, my breath heavy as I reply, “Alright, let me just wash up.” My voice is flat, detached, like I’m talking through a haze. It doesn’t matter, though. He wouldn’t care. I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Not that it’ll stop him. Gojo can break anything, but for now, I’ll indulge myself in this small act of control.

The tub is cold. I keep my clothes on as I sit down, the knife beside me gleaming with dark potential. This is it. I can end it all. No more hiding. No more pretending I don’t want to escape from the nightmare of Gojo’s love. He thinks he’s the sun, that he can shine on everyone and anyone—but not me.

I lift the blade slowly, positioning it on my wrist. The cold steel makes my heart race, my fingers trembling as I whisper into the silence, “I hope you take karma for this, Gojo Satoru.”

The first cut stings. I let out a shaky breath, watching the blood spill out like it’s finally leaving the prison inside me. I don’t stop there. No, I dig deeper. I carve out my pain, feeling the red warmth spread. I welcome the dizziness, the fading light. It’s almost... peaceful.

But then... his voice.

“Sweetcheek, why are you taking so long in there?” Gojo knocks, his voice casual, like he’s asking me about dinner, not about what I’m about to do. I don’t answer.

He doesn’t try to break down the door, which is laughable. He doesn’t know. He thinks I’m just taking a long bath, but he’s wrong.

I’m dying in here.

I can hear his footsteps getting closer. I can hear his stupid, careless voice call my name. “Y/n? Baby?” The door rattles, and then I feel his hands, pulling me into his chest, his breath hitching as he realizes what I’ve done.

I smile weakly, feeling the world spin. This is satisfying, in a way. His panic, his desperation. The way he holds me like I’m a fragile thing that could break. But he doesn’t understand.

“Y/n?! Baby? No, no, no...” His voice cracks, and my heart stabs like the knife in my wrist. Tears? Is he crying? Oh, how deliciously unexpected. I want to laugh.

But I don’t have the strength.

“Don’t you close your eyes, baby,” he says, his voice trembling, his hands shaking as they press against my skin. "This isn't over."

And then everything fades to black...

I wake up in a bed I didn’t ask for. A bed surrounded by the faint scent of antiseptic, the echo of voices too close, too suffocating.

“She’ll be fine now, Satoru,” a woman’s voice says. It’s calm, too calm.

“Maybe you should stay here in the meantime, just to be sure, Shoko,” Gojo’s weak voice follows, barely above a whisper.

“She’s fine. Just keep an eye on her like you always do,” the woman, Shoko, says. I can almost hear the roll of her eyes, the distance in her words.

And then I realize it. I’m still here. I’m still trapped. I couldn’t even escape with death.

I want to scream...

A month has passed with Satoru never leaving for work, staying by my side to ensure I won't try anything like that again. The days drag on, but I force myself to heal, to put on the appearance of recovery. Because as soon as I’m whole again, another plan will begin. And this time, nothing will stop me...

Yandere by Choice, Not by Heart

If I could match his vibe back then, I could definitely do it again. You know, the whole “pretend to be just as obsessed” routine until he finally cracks and gives me the freedom I want. So far, this little game has been almost too easy. He thinks I’m just needy, but I’ve got my eyes on the prize freedom. The one thing I’ve learned about Gojo Satoru? He’s a busy man, and he takes his job seriously. If I can keep up this act, I can make him so wrapped up in me that he’ll fold. At least, that’s the plan.

As I feel his arms slip from around me, I can tell the routine is starting. He’s always so punctual, always so... serious about his work. It’s cute, really, but today? Not today, not when I need him to stay in bed with me just a little longer.

“Toruuu…” I whined, pulling him back to me. “Where you going?”

He froze, half standing and half leaning over, looking like the workaholic he is. I took that as my cue and immediately tugged him back down, burying my face in his chest and sniffing him like he’s some kind of scent-filled snack. Just like he does to me. His scent? Pure temptation.

“Oh sweet cheeks, what’s up with you?” He chuckled, his voice a low, smooth purr as he stroked my hair. “You know it’s time for me to get ready for work.”

I made a dramatic, exaggerated groan. “But I need you hereeee.”

Mentally, I cringed at my own words. Did I just say that? Yeah, I did. Whatever. He loves it. He’s not going anywhere. He’s gonna stay with me and—wait for it—skip work for me.

“Oh, really?” Gojo chuckled, his arms tightening around me as if he’s considering it. “Alright, since you’ve never been this sweet, maybe I’ll skip today.”

Yes! Victory! My first win. I mentally fist-pumped, but on the outside, I kept the act up, batting my lashes at him like I had no idea what I was doing.

"Thank you, Toru," I said in my best innocent voice, nuzzling into him. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Days Passed...

My plan? Keep turning up the obsession. I’m practically a step away from being more needy than he is. And you know what? It’s working. Slowly but surely, it’s working.

There was that one day when I insisted we shower together. Nothing too extreme, just a bit of skin-to-skin to remind him that, yes, I am always this close to him.

“Mm, I love when we shower together,” I purred, pretending to casually reach for the shampoo, brushing my body against his.

Gojo smirked, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. “Yeah? You just want to see me naked.”

“Maybe,” I teased, “but mostly, I just love when you're all wet and slippery.”

His eyes darkened for a second, but he quickly recovered. “You're a mess, you know that?”

“Oh, but I’m your mess.” I grinned up at him.

He just laughed, as if he enjoyed every second of it. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, trying to decide if he should be more amused or concerned.

But wait, there’s more.

I also started following him everywhere. I mean everywhere. To the bathroom at night? I’d insist on accompanying him. Peeing together? Sure, why not. We’re close, after all. Besides, he never seems to mind when I casually slide into the bathroom with him at two in the morning.

“Really, Y/N? You’re going to watch me pee?” he teased one night as I leaned against the doorframe, casually inspecting my nails.

“I’m not watching,” I replied with a wicked grin. “I’m joining.”

The night didn’t stop there, though. After all, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. We had to have our “three times a day” sex quota. Why not? It’s not like we had anything better to do, right?

“You’re insatiable,” Gojo said, breathlessly flipping us over mid-session as I moaned against him. “You sure you’re not the one obsessed here?”

“Why, Toru, I am obsessed,” I whispered in his ear, my lips brushing against his skin. “But you're the one who started this.”

And oh, he did. He absolutely started it. Now I had him where I wanted him: in every way possible.

The Ultimate Game

Okay, so maybe I got a little carried away. He loved when I ate off his plate. He loved when I insisted on eating from the same spoon as him. A little weird, but it worked. At least he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed... content? Happy? Maybe?

“Seriously, Y/N?” Gojo asked, as I snatched another piece of sushi from his plate. “You’re eating all my food.”

“I’m just making sure you’re not starving,” I said sweetly, taking another bite. “We’re basically one. So it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He shook his head, a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “If you want to eat off my plate, you’re going to have to share the bathroom with me every time I go in there.”

“Done.”

Oh, and don’t forget the bathroom negotiations. Every time I would "need" some alone time, I'd make sure he waited outside the door. Not to pee or anything oh no, I was doing my business but it was all a part of the game. And guess what? He was starting to enjoy it.

“Really, Y/N?” Gojo said, sitting casually against the doorframe, smirking at me. “You’re going to make me wait outside?”

“Yep. You’re lucky I’m even letting you know what’s going on in there.”

It was a lot of fun, but I couldn’t help the nagging thought in the back of my mind... Was I starting to lose myself in this little game?

It’s working. It’s all working. All the clinginess, all the obsession, it’s finally making him bent to my will. And every time he smirks, every time he looks at me with that dangerous, half-amused, half-worried look, I know he’s in it now.

“Be as obsessed as he is,” I thought to myself, a wicked grin on my face.

But maybe... just maybe... I was starting to like it.

The Endgame

Okay, okay. Maybe escaping was a bit… ridiculous. Who needs to escape anyway? The more I thought about it, the more I realized: What if the real escape wasn’t about running? What if the escape was just… getting lost in this whole twisted, insane mess?

It was starting to hit me maybe he wasn’t that bad. I mean, sure, Gojo Satoru was possessive, borderline obsessive, and utterly impossible to shake off, but let’s be real: when was the last time anyone was this dedicated to loving you? Hell, it’s practically a rarity these days. Most guys can’t even commit to a dinner reservation, let alone a life sentence with someone like me.

So yeah, maybe he stalks me like a possessive ghost. Maybe he follows me everywhere, even into the bathroom 'I really wasn’t expecting him to just chill outside while I… did my thing, but hey, that’s true commitment'. Maybe I kind of like it.

And let’s not even mention the whole “skipping work” thing. Seriously, it’s like he’s a workaholic... unless I pout and bat my lashes, and suddenly he’s throwing his entire career out the window for me. It’s not like I forced him into it… too much. Who wouldn’t want to feel this wanted? That’s basically an act of love, right?

[chrlotpony]

love sunils voice but it is so hard to add into a edit audio omg

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[navybrat817]

Back Off, He's Mine

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You put an agent in her place after she flirts with Bucky.

Word Count: Over 2.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader or Bucky), protective vibes, catty behavior, possessive vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by an anon ask asking for Bucky's wife to stick up for him. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at you from across the break room table, his pretty blue eyes not blinking as you looked back at him. The two of you were locked in a lengthy staring contest and you didn’t want to lose. But as the air in the room began to dry your eyes and he flashed you a beautiful smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from blinking. And the moment you did, he struck.

Snatching the last bit of the beloved pastry right from the middle of the table.

“Damn it,” you muttered, crossing your arms when he chuckled. “You cheated.”

“Oh, yeah?” he smirked, making a show of taking a slow bite. Your eyes followed his tongue licking his lips and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. The bastard made eating look sexy and he didn’t even take a full bite. He was taunting you. “How did I do that?”

“You cheated by existing.” You gestured to him, your smoking hot husband in his black t-shirt and tactical pants. To the person who made those clothes, you saluted them. “And you have serum in your veins, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have to blink as much as I do and that’s an unfair advantage.”

He chuckled again, graciously passing over the last small bite of the pastry. Your eyes lit up in thanks, popping it in your mouth with a moan. It was true love to share food like that. “I don’t think that’s how the serum works,” he teased. “And you’re a goddess, so isn’t that cheating, too?”

“Okay, but I’m not actually a goddess,” you countered, though he did make you feel like one.

His eyes softened, leaning across the table and crooking his finger. “Yeah, you are,” he whispered, kissing your lips once you met him halfway.

Before you could deepen the kiss, a shrill voice rang out in the breakroom. “Sergeant Barnes! There you are!”

Bucky’s cheek twitched as he settled back in his seat. The voice echoing in the room would’ve been enough to make anyone wince, but his enhanced hearing made it worse. He worked hard to block out noises so he’d be comfortable, and your eyes instantly narrowed at the person who brought him discomfort.

You recognized her after a moment, a pretty woman who would likely fall out of her top if she sneezed too hard. She hadn't worked there long, but she had her eye on Bucky from the start. She always flirted with him, tried to stand close to him and push her chest close, and he always dropped in the conversation that he was a married man. Apparently she didn’t get the hint that he wasn't interested. Either that or she was into taken men.

“Hi, agent,” Bucky politely said.

“Agent. Always so formal,” she giggled, dragging a chair over from another table and taking a seat without asking. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Barnes. You're a hard man to track down.”

Bubbly agents didn’t bother you in the slightest. You appreciated anyone who could stay upbeat in the line of work you dealt with. It wasn’t the enamored look in her eyes either that bothered you because you understood people wanting Bucky and you were secure in your relationship. No, what bothered you was that he had clearly been kissing his wife and she pointedly avoided looking at you after interrupting. That was just rude.

It also bothered you how uncomfortable Bucky looked when she moved her chair closer to him, his shoulders stiff and smile not reaching his eyes.

“Been spending some time with my wife,” he said proudly, reaching across the table to take your hand. You dipped your head down with a small smile, your heart still doing that funny flip like it had since the moment you met. He even managed to clear out the room so you two could be alone. “We were just finishing up.”

She didn’t spare you a glance as she set a hand on his metal arm. His cheek twitched again, squeezing your hand. It took a lot of effort for you to not knock her back from the table for touching him without his permission. “Excuse me,” you began, your tone even. “I don’t-”

“Do you think you could spar with me later?” she cut you off and either didn’t see or ignored your glare, leaning forward in her seat to make her chest stick out more. Bucky didn’t look. “I’ve been having trouble with a couple of moves and you’re so good at them,” she added, her eyes on him like she wanted to eat him up.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

“I don't think…” he stopped when her fingers trailed higher.

“Please, Sergeant?” she pouted.

Your eyes went back to your husband to get a read on him and make sure he was okay. He wasn't. His smile still didn't look right and his back was ramrod straight. Squeezing his hand seemed to ground him since he breathed a little easier, though your anger was simmering.

“I, um, don’t mind sparring if you really need the help,” Bucky began, gently pulling his arm away. “But you interrupted my time with my wife.”

Her smile faltered while yours widened. Bucky didn't like anyone cutting you off, whether that was your time together or interrupting you speaking. “What?” she asked.

“Hi there. Been sitting here the whole time.” You wiggled your fingers when she finally looked your way. “Excuse us for a second,” you said, avoiding her stare the way she avoided yours. “Bucky, do you think you can wait outside? This agent and I need to have a little chat.”

Your husband looked like he was trying not to laugh and you would take laughter over discomfort any day of the week. “Be nice if you can,” he teased, pressing a featherlight kiss to your hand. “I love you, baby,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, something unspoken passing between the two of you.

Defending each other was second nature, always would be.

Bucky didn’t immediately leave the room when he stood up. Instead he rounded the table so he could bend down and kiss your mouth, too. You smiled as it lingered, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t keep me waiting out there long, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered.

“I won't, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

Straightening up, he gave a small nod to the agent for her sake. “Come find me later if you still want to talk about sparring. Maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Okay, Sergeant,” she smiled, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. That look wouldn’t last.

You waited until Bucky was gone to face the agent, who stopped smiling the second your husband was out of sight. Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and asked point-blank, “You trying to fuck my husband?”

The wide-eyed expression was priceless when she realized you weren't asking as a joke. “What are you... I just asked him to spar,” she tried to brush it off.

“Please, don't insult my intelligence,” you said. It was beneath both of you to do so. “I get why you want him. Besides being one of the sexiest creatures to ever exist, he’s a good man. Polite, probably treats you with respect. More than most of the men around here.”

She shifted away from you and nodded. “He's a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agreed. They didn't make men like Bucky anymore. “And I’m not going to tell you to stop hitting on my husband, but I highly suggest that you back off. At the very least, don’t throw yourself at him right in front of me. It’s sad.”

“Why?” She had the nerve to smirk. “Worried I’ll steal him away?”

You smirked, too. She had balls and you respected that, but this wasn’t a battle she’d win. “Steal him away? You make it sound like he’s a toy and he isn’t. He’s a man, my man,” you said, holding up your hand so she could get a good look at your wedding ring. “And you are not a threat in the slightest. Our bond is much stronger than that.”

Her smirk went away fast, replaced by something sad. You almost felt sorry for her until she said, “Jealousy isn't a good look on you. It’s kind of… ugly.”

You scoffed. If she wanted to play, you’d play. “Jealous of what? You hitting on a married man who doesn't want you?” you asked, not feeling guilty in the slightest when her face fell. “I’m not telling you to back off because I'm jealous. I told you that because you’re only going to embarrass yourself if you keep trying and you’re going to make my husband more uncomfortable than he already is. I don’t like people making my husband uncomfortable.”

An unspoken threat hung in the air long enough that she swallowed. “And how exactly did I make him uncomfortable?”

“Besides you hitting on him, you touched him without making sure it was okay to do so,” you answered, letting a bit of venom seep into your tone. Bucky went years without autonomy and consent was important to you. He suffered enough and didn’t need to deal with things like this. “I’d hope as an agent you’d be able to pick up on subtle body language cues enough to know that he didn’t want you touching him.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t want me touching him? Are you a mind reader or something?” she sneered, flicking a nonexistent piece of flint from her shirt. “If he really didn't want me touching him, he would've said so. And guess what? He didn't say a word.”

You saw red, your hands curling into fists. For her to ignore the nonverbal cues… “I know my husband. I know Bucky. He doesn’t want you touching him nor does he want to start anything with you because he’s extremely faithful. He won’t throw away a loving, trusting marriage for a quick fuck or doomed affair,” you stated. She bristled, but tried to recover. “If you make a pass at him, he’ll reject you. He’ll do it as respectfully as he can because he’s a good guy, but he will reject you. That’s a promise.”

“Because he loves you so much. Jesus, what makes you so special?” she spat, surprising you both. But the longer you looked at her, the more she deflated under your stare. “I mean… He doesn’t say much to me, but when he does it’s always about you. ‘My wife this’ and ‘my wife that’ and he’s always so… proud.” She shook her head. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

You did feel a little sorry for her now. Crushes hurt, but better that she hurt now and heal than to keep pushing and hurt more later. “I’m not special. We just love each other, that’s all. And, trust me, I’m aware that I’m very lucky to have him. Someone who gets me and will fight for and beside me,” you said, a loving smile touching your lips. You hoped Bucky was listening outside the door. “There’s a guy out there waiting for you, but that guy isn’t Bucky. So don’t lower yourself by trying to go after someone who’s taken.”

She side-eyed you, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “And what if I don’t stop?” she asked.

You giggled humorously, all sympathy gone. The agent actually looked nervous at that sound and you were glad because you weren't going to play nice. “Well, if you don't back off, Bucky could make a complaint about you harassing him or at least request that you’re transferred. Maybe fired since you’re still in your probationary period,” you began, looking at your wedding band when she began to protest. “At the very least, I could have your schedule rearranged so you can spar with me. You see, Bucky taught me a few moves and if a bone or two breaks, well…”

It wasn't an empty threat either. Bucky loved fighting for you, but you could hold your own. It turned him on.

Her eyes darted to the door when you stood up and stretched. “Listen, you don't need to-”

“But do you know what I'm going to do for now?” you asked, cutting her off the way she cut you off. “I'm going to take my husband to one of the interrogation rooms and suck the soul out of his body through his incredible cock,” you smiled sweetly, taking pleasure in the sputtering sound she made. “And after he recovers, he’ll have the choice of bending me over the table and either eating or fucking my pussy. He’ll probably choose both. He’s pretty insatiable.”

She got to her feet, too, and you half expected to see smoke come out of her ears. “I don't need to hear–”

“What? Does hearing that Bucky is going to fuck me and not you make you uncomfortable?” you asked innocently before you got close to her. “Shove your tits in my husband's face again or touch him without his explicit consent, and I won't just make you uncomfortable. I’ll make your life a living hell.”

While you lost the staring contest to Bucky earlier, you very much won against this agent. She stood perfectly still and averted her gaze as you pushed your chair in. “Is that a threat?” she mumbled.

A cliche question, so why not give a cliche answer? “It’s a promise,” you smiled, heading to the door. “Oh, if he does decide to spar with you, I expect you to apologize and behave yourself. I’ll hear about it if you don't.”

Bucky leaned against the wall, waiting for you as you exited the room. He looked over the moon. “We’re going to one of the interrogation rooms, huh?”

You giggled, taking his hand as your cheeks warmed. “Of course, that's what you took from that.”

“How could I not?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Thanks, baby. I thought I dropped enough hints that she’d back off.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. He deserved to be comfortable at work. If some guy kept hitting on you, he would've stepped in, too.

“You think she’ll back off now?”

“I think so, but you tell me if she doesn't,” you said. You’d keep an eye on her, too, just in case. And if she pushed again, you’d put her back in her place. Maybe you’d make her listen while Bucky fucked you. With his permission, of course. “So, which room should we go to?”

He chuckled, the sound a happy one in the hall. “Room B. We can be as loud as we want,” he replied, tugging you closer. “I’ll show you just how special you are to me.”

Heat filled your body, anticipating how good it would feel to have him fuck your throat and more. “My body is ready, Sergeant,” you teased, shrieking when he picked you up and ignoring the whistles from other agents that walked by.

They were used to the shenanigans of Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by now.

And you couldn't wait for more.

Just like we deserve a loving Bucky, he deserves love, too. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[webism]

☆ Gojo is always so cocky before you peg him. Confident, taking charge as if he's not about to be fucked from behind like a whore. He'll dirty talk you, try to fluster you with his honeyed words as you're pulling the strap on.

"Gonna fuck me so good, baby?" He purrs, wrapping his fingers around the pretty blue strap: perhaps to gauge the size. He jerks it a little, mirrors the way he'd stroke himself to the thought of being fucked senseless by you. "Hopefully you can keep up with me."

It's all talk, a veil of confidence only barely masking his desperation beneath, which burns hot and angry and threatens to ignite into something all-consuming if it isn't soon put out. You think of wrecking his ego, making him get down on his knees and suck the plastic for show. He'd look so pretty, looking up at you through his lashes as he served the strap with his mouth and tongue.

Oh but he's prepped and ready, and you're itching to erode at his cocky smile. You have him lay on his back, so you can watch as his lips curl downwards when you slide a finger into him, rather than the strap he's been promised.

"Fuck, I don't need it," he whines, tries to reach down and pull your wrist up and away from him but you swat him away with a tsk.

"You're so impatient."

"Just fuck me already."

Sweet Satoru regrets his words when you line your pretty blue strap up with his ass and push in only an inch of two. The sharp hiss of him steeling himself with a breath is music to your ears, and though he tries desperately to keep the cocky act up, you can see it slipping.

You give him another inch, and he bites back a moan. "That's... all you got?"

"No," you click your teeth. "But, it's all you'll get if you don't start begging, baby."

He gives you a look, tries his best to look annoyed, but his cock is so hard it hurts and the corners of his lips are curling upwards in a grin regardless. His pleads start out dramatic, joking.

"Please fuck me, babe," he drawls, but as you inch further inside of him at his request, he gasps. Very quickly, any cockiness in his tone is replaced by raw need. "Fuck, more—please, really, I need it."

His eyes are wide at the stretch, the all-encompassing fullness he's feeling, and the grief he feels when you pull almost all the way out of him.

"Wait don't pull out I'll beg I'll—"

His pleads get stuck in his throat when you push forward and bury your strap completely in his ass. Satoru chokes out the prettiest moan, meets your eyes for half a second as you pull back, and then falls into complete ecstasy as you snap your hips back into his again.

From there, he's gone. Malting into the mattress as you fuck him at the pace he responds best to—a torturous middle ground between painfully slow and so fast it's over too soon. Satoru whines, seemingly already overstimulated by your movements, but you're far from done with him.

Satoru Gojo is the strongest. He's untouchable, really, and here you are ten inches deep inside of him and watching as hot tears spring into his beautiful blue eyes. He's sweating, exerting himself entirely to taking all that you can give him; and you're sure he'd take more if you had it for him—he's at the base of your strap and whining like a whore on it.

"Close," his voice is quiet and desperate and you love the way it melts into the air around you. You fuck him harder, faster, a bruising pace that might be more for you than him, but he takes it with shaky breaths and a heaving chest because he's addicted to the shape of your plastic cock inside of his ass.

You fuck him through his orgasm, watch as his cock—which is reddening with angry need—spurts ropes of cum all over his stomach, pearlescent and almost unending. You smile at the sight, stalling your hips to let him catch his breath after cumming so hard without his cock even being touched.

He's a mess, sensitive and breathless as you trace your fingertips through the mess of cum glossing his tummy. Satoru watches with parted lips as you do so, half-expecting you to bring your fingers to his lips for him to clean up the mess he made. But you don't. Instead, you press down hard on his tummy and listen to the lewd noise that rips from his throat when you feel just how deep you are inside of him.

"Here, baby," you coo, grabbing at the wrist Satoru shoots down to try and pull your hand from his stomach with. You press his palm down onto his cum-covered stomach and have him feel for himself the bulge that you've created with the tip of your strap inside of him.

A moment passes, something flickers in your gaze that turns Satoru's mouth dry. "Don't move your hand, Toru, understand me? Keep pressing down."

Satoru parts his lips to protest, but you're pulling out and plunging back into his ass with a mean thrust of your hips before he can say a word. The nastiest moan slips from his lips, half ecstatic, half overstimulated.

"Fucking you so deep you can feel it from the outside, huh baby? Taking my cock so well, letting me use you like you're the toy."

Your words are enough to encourage Satoru into a second round; though this time you're meaner than before. You pull his legs up a little, manage a position that allows you to get impossibly deeper inside of him, and hen thrust your hips forward to test the water.

He's drooling. His lips are wet with spit and cheeks stained with new-flowing tears. He loves it, though, you can feel the clench of his ass in the way it becomes just that little bit harder to thrust into him. With each mean snap of your hips though, you watch as Satoru presses down harder on his belly to feel you bullying your plastic strap into his ass.

You find a nice pace and match it with your fingers wrapped around his cock. Stroking him only makes your lover needier, bucking his hips up instinctually just to gasp at how the movement fucks himself onto your strap too. By the time his second orgasm is approaching, you can't tell who's doing more of the work: he's frenzied and cumdrunk and can't see straight between the blinding pleasure and tears in his eyes.

"Good boy," you praise as he cums again, his whole body racked with tremors and his eyes quite literally rolling back as he releases all over the hand that presses down to feel you. You give him a minute, let his catch his lost breath and wipe his tears from his eyes with the hand that isn't covered in his own cum.

Though, once you're confident he's at ease enough for you to slowly pull out and start giving him aftercare, his legs lock around your waist and keep you buried deep.

You've never seen such a look on his face before—ravenous.

"Again."

kinktober tags: @medusamara5 @echodead @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @gojoscinnamonroll @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

@sharks31 @lenahathunger @aydene @dreamyokai @n0tviv

@chiiinglebells @timetoletmyimaginationfly @nayely45 @waffless-simp-blog

@zoozvie @gothicchildofthenight @repnights @flwerie @soundofraindropss

@ushijimas1simp @aliidarling @aeswin @peachygelic @silvermet

@rinadisapproves @theshxaverse @cipher00 @milkkteary @snackeyalleyjuice

@cvipped @toadtoru @keiette @satosugu4-ever

@sugurubabe @wickedpoison6 @simp-plague @tojis-ball-sack @ventila98

@xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @oikawasthirdleg @yogichi @theycallmesia

@kdrama-anna @vurelliex @anonnieghost @tadabzzzbee

@luvofbows @crywolfix @hhonaoin @gigiiiiislife @aviesnapkindoodles

@ninikrumbs @bijuu-naginata @baekhyunsbestie @grimmshold @dalnimmie

@domainexpansionmypants @5tarx @1depressedsimp @beachaddict48 @jadeis0nline

@sukunasbbygrl @luna-v-roiya @sukunaspillow @starsval @vamqyx

@laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mermaid-jewels @sugusmonkeyy @sammywo @noyaskneepad

@astrideverstar @lordchula-thagrandrula @chuuminn @angel1of-death @flooftoof

@rumi-rants @dysphoricsanity @coolcephalopod @satoruslxt @xoxo1mira

@whosmarjj @kikosaidbye @iceddragonfruit @amisuh

@veraiku @niinistudies @jexx233 @logoleptic-since-06 @kirishimasboobs

@samaraxmorgan @sweetsformysoul @uranosbaaee @angeleen777

@xixflower @alifromtheotherworld

[whatifitis]

♡ Long May You Roar - LN 4 ♡

Summary: this is based off this request! P makes sure to see Lando before the final race and wants to give him a lucky sticker. You think about a life with Lando and what a family with him would be like.

Author's Note: I didn't think it would end up so short but i really tried my best 😭

WC: 882

CW: fluff, Lando and P being besties

“Lando! Lando!” you heard coming from a few feet away. You turned to see P running up to Lando with a sheet of stickers in hand. 

You were hanging out with Lando’s mom in the Mclaren hospitality and were standing outside and chatting with Lando before he had to get to the car. 

“P! What ya doin?” Lando greets her. 

The girl is smiley as she starts to converse with Lan. You watch as the two interact, the girl's mom standing behind a pillar nearby and resting a hand on her belly. 

You watch as P asks Lando to bend down to her level so she could whisper something, “Do you want a sticker? They’re lucky.” the girl beams. 

“Lucky stickers?! Are they real? I thought they were super rare. How’d you get a hold of them?” 

“Magic.” she giggled. 

“Oh, well then I must have one then, yeah? So that I can beat Maxie today?”

“Well, not that much luck.”

“Ah, well then.” Lando couldn’t help but laugh a bit. No matter how much she loved Lando, P was very loyal to Max. 

“Which sticker would you like?” P asked Lando, displaying the sticker sheet in front of him so he could get a decent view of them. 

Lan takes a moment to really think about it and scan the remaining sticker on the sheet before making the final decision, “I would like this one, please.” he said, pointing to the design of a redbull can. 

“No, you can’t have that one. You can have this one.” P says as she peels a long sticker off the sheet. It was a design of one of the red bull cars, maybe Lando could use it as motivation to beat them and win the constructors. God knew they needed a bit of magic, from a red bull sticker. 

“Yeah, sure. I like that one too, I guess.” Lando dramatically sighs. 

“Dramatic. Where do you want the sticker?” P asks, looking up at Lando. 

“Hmm, why don’t we put it right here over my wrist. That way it’s easy for me to see.” 

P puts all her focus in putting the sticker on Lando’s wrist carefully and precisely. 

When she was pleased with the placement of the sticker, she took a step back and smiled at her work. Lando looked at the sticker and gave P a high-five, “Way to go tiger. Long may you roar.”

But, of course, he couldn’t leave before P could get her hug from him. She immediately ran into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Lando was one of Penelope’s favorite people and it showed. She was always excited to see him and hangout with him. She even cheered him on during races from time to time. 

While P and Lando hugged, Lando’s mom went in to hug him as well but it seemed as if the little girl wanted to be the last one to get a Lando hug before he set off. She subtly tried pushing his mom away with her foot which was quite cute and funny. P really did enjoy having Lando around. The two had sort of watched each other grow and Lando was always a constant figure in her life. 

Watching him with P and other kids sort of settled a debate that you’d had with yourself in your head. When you and Lando had started dating, you talked about potentially having kids in the future. You both wanted to have that conversation early on so that it wouldn’t become a problem later down the line. 

You were both pleased when you learned that neither of you had a set decision on whether you wanted kids in the future or not. It was sort of in the middle, you wouldn’t mind having kids, but it wasn’t something you’d always imagined or dreamed of. If it came down to it, you wouldn’t mind having kids or not having them. 

It was also a matter of who it was with. You both wanted to have kids with the right person. And now, after all this time, you think if you were to have kids with anyone, it would be Lan. You wouldn’t want to have a family with anyone else. 

You knew you wanted all of it with him. Watching dragonflies fly above your heads, having favorite spots on swing sets. There was never any room for regrets in your dreams and now you know that Lando is a part of all your dreams, and that you would never regret anything with him. 

The time will arrive for settling down and having a family with him, but for now, the both of you will learn to grow and be curious about life. 

Before Lando started his trek to the garage, he went to you to give you a quick hug and kiss. He smiled at you, eyes twinkling in the shining sun. Nowadays, it’s not often you see him this happy. 

“You look happy.” you tell him. 

“I got a sticker from P. That’s like the biggest approval you can get from a kid, ya know.” he joked, “Alright, I really have to go now. I’ll see you after.”

He kisses you one more time before running off, wilder and lighter than before.

[laiiaaa]

Your writing is stunning! Can I request injured!reader and Carmy rushing to be by her side? god the idea of that man dropping everything to be with you....

this has been in my drafts for probably a year now. i forget why i was hesitant to post it. so here’s something for you all :)

“Hey, Cousin—”

“I’m in the middle ‘f something, not now, Richie—”

“Hey.” He raises his brows, gives that serious look that has Carmen’s head peeking over his shoulder because it’s so sharp he can feel it. “It’s your girl. You wanna take this.”

He gets nervous, then, heart beginning to race. Where’s his fuckin’ phone?

“Give it here,” he says, arm extended. Richie hands it over and slips out the door, shutting it to leave Carmen by himself in the office; it only makes hurt stomach lurch harder.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“. . . Carm?” Your voice is broken and wobbly, wrought with tears.

“Baby?” He doesn’t even think before he’s jumping out of his chair, tucking the phone between his jaw and shoulder while he scrambles to find his keys. “Baby, you there? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at the hospital, I tried calling you—”

“The hospital—?” His mind goes back to New York, back to that morning. “What—” He takes a deep breath. His jacket. Where the fuck is it? “Okay, you’re okay, I’m comin’ now, alright?” He storms out of the office toward the lockers, finds everything right where he put it, including his phone. Dead. Fuck. “I gotta hang up, okay? I’m sorry, I know, I can’t take the phone with me. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“O-Okay.” A shuddered breath rings through the line, and it kills him. “I’m okay, Carmy—”

“I know,” he says, shimmying into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “I know, baby, but I’m comin’ anyway, you hear me? Gonna be there in ten.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I love you.”

He doesn’t put the phone back properly, just slides it across the counter and hopes it doesn’t break again, shouting out orders over his shoulder on his way out the door.

The ride there is the longest ten minutes of his life. He doesn’t know what to expect. He doesn’t know anything at all, really. Are you hurt? How bad is it? What happened? Is it a burn, a broken bone, just a flu that got out of hand? Will you need surgery? Did you get in an accident? Did someone try to hurt you? He doesn’t want you to be alone right now. He needs to be there with you. You were fine this morning. You were fine this morning, all beautiful and groggy when he kissed you awake, still cozied up in bed when he left early as the sky turned blue after sunrise. You were fine. You were fine, and then he left, and suddenly you weren’t.

The fluorescent lights make him nauseous. They’re too bright, and a disgusting color, and too different from all the gentle lighting you insisted upon at home. Made the place homey, you said, and he agreed. The nurses at the station must think he’s out of his mind, all wide-eyed and asking for you.

“What’s your name?” the one asks him.

“Carmen, I’m her fiancé, I was—I was just on the phone with her—”

“Okay,” she nods, softening. “She’s doin’ alright now, she was askin’ for you, though. Still gotta get her wrapped up, but you’ll be outta here soon.”

He’s too busy wondering What the fuck does that mean? to properly answer.

When he’s finally brought to your room, his nerves subside—only a little. There’s no blood, no bland hospital gown to say you’re headed off to the operating room. Just a pillow over your tummy, with your arm—your swollen, bruised arm—resting on top of it.

“Hey, hon,” he says, coming to your bedside and smoothing a hand over your forehead to press his lips to your temple. “You alright? What happened?”

“They—” you sniffle when you look up at him, lip quivering— “They had to take my ring off, Carmy—” he nods along to your rambling with a concerned brow— “I-I told them not to, but they said my hand was too swollen—that-that it was gonna mess up my finger—. . .”

“What’s that, baby?” He smiles into your hair and exhales through his nose. So typical of you to get upset about something cute like that, he knows you’ll be okay. “Your arm’s all black ‘n blue, and you’re worried about your ring—?”

“But it’s special—”

“Shhhhh . . . I know, I know . . . ‘m just askin’ you to ease up.” Another kiss lands on your forehead before he asks, “Where’s it at, baby? I’ll fix it for you.”

You pout and look somewhere behind him. “On the table, but you’re not gonna be able to—”

“Just take a breath ‘n relax f’me, yeah? I got it.”

He stands upright again, turning to check that the ring is there—that beautiful, beautiful big diamond for his precious girl, before reaching toward the nape of his neck to unclasp his chain. Carefully, he threads it through the ring, silently urges you to sit up so he can hook it around your neck, icy-cool on your smooth skin, admiring the way it sparkles like your eyes.

You’re still pouting when he’s done, and he kisses your soft lips anyway while he wipes away stray tears. “Better?”

“. . . yeah,” you admit through a murmur.

“Good,” he huffs, pulling the visitor’s chair right next to your bed. With your good arm, you reach for him, just any part of him, and he holds your hand as he kisses your dry knuckles. “You gonna tell me what happened now? What’s got you all banged up?”

And you groan and roll your eyes, insisting that it’s too embarrassing to tell, and he lets you drag it out just because he thinks it’s cute when you’re stubborn. The doctor comes in with the x-rays to confirm that, yes, indeed, you’ve got yourself a broken arm, and after you’re splinted and discharged and given a sling and the next day’s protocol, Carmen holds your good hand on the way out the door.

“Oh,” you start, pausing before he opens the car door for you, “I forgot to tell you.”

“Hm?”

“I drove here.”

“You what?”

“I told you, I was embarrassed, Carm—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he grunts, laughing and shaking his head with fingers running through his hair as he helps you into the passenger’s seat. “You’re killin’ me today, y’know that?”

And it’s not the last time. When he unlocks the front door and sees the laundry spilled all the way down the stairs, with a basket flipped upside down at the bottom, he can put the pieces together. He kisses you softly, doesn’t say a word about it, takes you to the bedroom, and tucks you into bed to let you rest now that your adrenaline is wearing off and the pain meds are making you sleepy.

He fixes up the mess without a second thought, and once he’s done he slips right under the covers next to you, thanking whatever God there is that you’re okay, and that he’s got you back in his arms.

(And tomorrow, when he takes you into the doctor’s office for a proper cast, he has Natalie and Pete pick up your car. He still hounds on you about it weeks later, how you drove yourself to the hospital with a broken arm. You insist it makes for a good story, and to that he can’t deny.)

[tteotlma]

Unspoken

to everyone he's the indestructible wolverine, to you he's just logan —

Bf!Logan/Reader (3.5kw)

a/n: I’m kinda over smut rn.. It requires too much thinking rn and I just want some love so…

tw: mild sexual content, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, mild language, domestic fluff

---

Everyone wonders how exactly you managed to bring the bad boy home to mom. Okay, not exactly, but close enough. When you started showing up around Logan, everyone was thrown for a loop.

"This is Y/n," he would introduce you for the first time at a group outing. He unknowingly blocked you from his table of teammates, so you put a hand on his arm to move him over.

Smiling brightly at the group, you introduced yourself as his girlfriend. Scott and Jean were stunned, while Ororo just smiled. She moved, took out a seat beside her, and patted it. You'd look at Logan, and he'd give a curt nod before saying he was going to get you both a drink.

As he left, he placed a small hand on your back, and you smiled at him before he walked away. Settling beside Ororo, you made yourself comfortable.

"Alright, alright, now tell us the truth," Scott huffed, stuffing his face with the complimentary peanuts in the middle of the table.

"I'm sorry?" Your eyebrows squeezed together, making Scott chuckle.

"So you're really his girlfriend?" he asked, while Jean gave you a careful eye.

"It appears that way, doesn't it?" You turned away just in time to grab your drink from Logan, taking a sip before looking back at Scott.

Logan had told you a lot about Scott and their complicated relationship - a sort of "I have to like you because we're family" kind of thing. You'd never held any resentment towards Scott, but you were aware that sometimes it could seem like he thought less of Logan.

Scott didn't say anything further, instead continuing to munch on peanuts and occasionally cracking jokes, flashing you his award-winning smile. The group settled into casual chit-chat, with Logan's body pressed beside yours despite sitting in separate chairs.

His arm slung around the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally brushing against your arm - a subtle reminder that despite all the people in the bar, you could freely focus on whatever, knowing he had you.

As the night wore on, stories and laughs were shared, the alcohol doing a good job of loosening everyone up, especially you and Logan. You were still at a point in your relationship where everything felt fresh to the outside, so the idea of PDA was still nerve-wracking. Granted, you and Logan had touched each other a lot, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, Logan preferred to be more of a guard dog, always standing over you wherever you went.

It never bothered you. In fact, you relished the fact that Logan never left your line of sight; he made you feel protected and special. He never pushed your comfort level, and vice versa. You were acutely aware of Logan's character flaws, and mixed with the fact that it had been years since you'd dated anyone, it was nice not having to force the physicality between you two - it came naturally when it wanted.

Like right now, the comforting atmosphere and lightheartedness had you leaning into Logan's warmth. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his arm slipped off the back of the chair to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in. His hand lightly tickled your side as you absentmindedly ran your nails up his denim-clad thigh, the repetitive motion and feel of the micro-grooves beneath your fingers keeping you grounded.

You tried paying attention to the conversation, but each time Logan laughed, your whole body would shake along with his, and the deep rumble of his laughter would erupt from his chest - a sound you wished you could melt into.

"So why are you with Logan?" Jean asked, her cheeks flushed as she stared between you and Logan, watching the way his fingers played with the fabric of your shirt.

You ripped yourself away from thoughts of your boyfriend and tried to focus on the question at hand. "I'm sorry?" you said, having heard the question but unsure how to answer.

"Why Logan?"

You shifted in your seat to stare at the beefy man beside you. He looked down at you, a small smirk on his lips.

"Why Logan..." you repeated, pondering how to put into words the way this man made you feel.

How do you even put into words the way this man makes you feel? As mentioned before you hadn’t dated in what felt like forever but with Logan everything fell into place. 

Everyone at the table probably assumes that Logan would be the most dismissive lover ever, a taker not really a giver but oh boy were they wrong. 

To you, it felt like you were the center of his universe. 

Whenever Logan would spend the night, you’d always wake up to an empty bed. At first Logan would run out of your place as soon as the sun would hit but one morning when you thought you were alone you slipped into one of Logan’s shirts you had lying around and when you pad to the kitchen you find the giant man surrounded by a rush aroma of coffee. And it’s been like that ever since. 

Whenever Logan stays over he’s always up before you. The smell of coffee wafting throughout the apartment coaxing you out of bed. Once in the kitchen there’d be Logan in all his morning glory, shirtless with sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips, pouring the hot liquid into your favorite mug knowing you’d never say no to it. 

He doesn't ask how you take it, he’s never had to. He just places the mug softly in front of you as you sit on a stool and watches you take a sip with a small smile. 

Placing the mug down, you return the smile, and like clockwork Logan rounds the counter, turns your chair, and places himself between your legs. Your hands find their place at his side as he holds your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss on your lips. These quiet morning moments are just one of the many things you cherish about your life with Logan.

But it's not just the gentle moments that make your relationship special. Logan's protective nature extends to all aspects of your life together, including the more practical ones.

There have been a few times you've come home thinking someone's broken in. Loud clanging could be heard as soon as you walked in. You grabbed an umbrella from beside the door and stalked quietly toward the sound. When you finally turned the corner down the hallway, you noticed the bathroom light was on. With the umbrella held tightly, you stepped closer to the bathroom. There you found Logan tinkering under the sink, the clanking sound coming from the metal against the pipes. He was muttering to himself, brows furrowed in concentration, his muscles constricting beneath his dark blue shirt.

“My handyman.” You tease, discarding the umbrella and leaning against the door frame watching him work. 

Without looking back at you he says “Someone’s gotta do it, darlin’.” You let out a small laugh, before walking away to get him a glass of water. When you come back he’s finishing up. 

He wipes his hands with a towel, and takes the glass from your hand. 

“My hero.” You say, finding your spot against the doorframe, smiling up at him, eyes filled with adornment for the man in front of you. He just pulls you in close and kisses your forehead. 

“Can’t have you dealin’ with this kind of thing.” He says. 

“Oh but sir,” You feign innocence, a small smirk growing on your lips. “I don’t get paid until Friday,” You hook a finger in his belt loop giving it a tug. “However, shall I repay you?” You cock your head to the side, and Logan quirks an eyebrow before playing along. 

“Didn’tya know? I take other forms of payment.” His voice is low as he grabs your hips guiding you backwards. You laugh as he quickly shuffles backwards into your room. 

The both of you stumble onto the bed, and Logan’s weight presses against you just enough to make you feel deliciously suffocated. His eyes are filled with mischief as he hovers over you, hands resting on either side of your head. 

“Oh my, what form of payment were you thinking of?” You ask, voice playful but becomes breathless as he leans in to nose at your neck, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of your neck. 

He chuckles slowly, “I think y’already know sweetheart.” 

Before you can say anything he catches your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, making it clear how he plans to collect. 

His weight grounds you, as the teasing is forgotten, replaced with a slow electric pull of desire. Logan’s hand skims all over your body, gentle but firm, reminding you that you’re his in every way that counts. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, ‘bout that payment.. Don’t think that was enough, princess.” 

You bite your lip, giving him a coy smile as your fingers slide down his chest. “Well, I’d hate to leave a debt unpaid, Sir.” 

Logan leans down to brush his lips against yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Then you better make it worth while, buttercup. I don’t do all this hard work for nothin’.” He teases. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. “Oh don’t worry. I always leave a generous tip.” 

With a grin, Logan kisses you again, deeper than before. His hands continue their exploration as the playful banter gives way to something more intense, and heated. And just like that, all thoughts are replaced with only the two of you tangled up in each other, lost in the moment. 

While these passionate encounters are exhilarating, they're not the only moments you treasure with Logan. In fact, your favorite kind of moments are often much quieter, born from the shared fatigue of long days and the comfort you find in each other's presence.

Your favorite kind of moments would have to be the days Logan comes over after a long day, the kind that left both of you feeling drained by the time the moon came over the horizon.

You’d flop onto the sofa as soon as you’d get home, letting the tension ease away from your muscles when five minutes later Logan opens the door, which you left unlocked for him. 

Without saying a word he flops beside you, causing your body to follow the cave of the cushions and melt into his side. You wrap your arms around his neck and he snakes his arm around your waist, heavy hand resting on your hip squeezing lightly. 

“Hi Baby.” You whisper, caressing his face. He looks down at you with hooded eyes and gives you a small smile. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a soft, lazy kiss before pulling back and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

 You hum contentedly, your arms tightening around him for a moment, the tenderness between you growing. Logan shifts beneath you, his large hands easily grabbing your legs, guiding them to rest over his lap. With a bit of maneuvering, he ends up leaning on his elbow, his arm still wrapped protectively around your waist, while you’re stretched out across the sofa, your legs draped over his, your bodies intertwined in the most comforting way.

He’s partially laying down now, with you tucked securely against him, and the gentle weight of his arm across you feels grounding, the two of you perfectly melted into one another.

“How was your day?” you ask softly, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. Logan doesn’t respond right away— he instead lets out a low huff and buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Awe, the poor kitty.” You tease, patting his head lightly. Logan grunts, but the hint of a smile plays on his lips as his grip tightens around your waist. 

“Yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, clearly too tired to give much of a response. You smile, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth of him, but after a moment, the thought of washing the day away crossed your mind. 

You run your fingers through his hair one last time before sighing. “I should go shower,” you say, gently pulling away from him. Logan lets out a gruff dissatisfied grumble as you move to sit up, his arm still draped around you. 

“Stay here,” he mumbles, a hint of a pout in his voice as he watches you sit up.

You chuckle softly, stretching as you stand and walk toward the bathroom. “You could always come with me…” you say casually, your back still to him as you head down the hallway.

Logan’s eyes follow you, and he huffs, pushing himself off the couch. “You know I’m not saying no to that.”

Before long, you’re both under the warm spray of the shower, the day’s exhaustion melting away. Logan stands still, eyes half-closed, letting the water run down his body. His skin glistens under the spray, rivulets tracing the lines of his body. You breathe in the steamy air, heavy with the scent of soap and Logan's own earthy musk.

Squeezing shampoo into your palm, its crisp herbal aroma cuts through the steam. Your fingers slide through Logan's hair, now slick and dark as ink. He leans into your touch, a low rumble of pleasure vibrating in his chest. His normally guarded expression softens, the furrows in his brow smoothing as your fingertips work small circles against his scalp.

Logan leans into your touch, his broad shoulders loosening as your fingers work their magic. The taut muscles beneath his skin gradually unwind, melting under the warmth of the water and the gentle pressure of your hands. You can feel the subtle shift in his posture as he surrenders to the soothing sensation, his breath deepening and slowing in response to your careful attention. 

The steam swirls around you both, creating an intimate cocoon that seems to exist outside of time. You take your time, savoring the quiet vulnerability of the moment, your fingers moving with deliberate care through his hair.

"Mmm," Logan murmurs, his voice husky and low. "S'nice."

His eyes flutter open, meeting yours through the misty air. The look he gives you is unguarded, full of a tenderness that makes your breath catch. You continue your gentle massage, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away beneath your touch.

You guide him under the spray, watching as the water sluices away the soap, leaving his hair gleaming. Your hands trail down to his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. The shower continues for a few more minutes, the rhythmic pattern of water creating a soothing backdrop.

Logan steps out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs your plush robe from the hook and helps you slip it on. The soft fabric feels warm and comforting against your skin, still flushed from the hot shower.

Logan's hands linger for a moment on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Cozy?" he asks, his voice soft. You nod, enjoying the simple comfort of the moment.

As you make your way to the bedroom, Logan settles on the edge of the bed while you rummage through the dresser. You pull out one of Logan's well-worn t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, slipping them on. The familiar scent of him envelops you, a comforting mixture of cedar, a hint of motor oil, and something uniquely Logan.

Despite countless cycles through the washing machine, his scent clings stubbornly to the fabric. It's as if it's woven into the very threads, resistant to detergent and hot water alike. You breathe in deeply, savoring the aroma that's quintessentially him - a scent that speaks of strength, of safety, of home.

The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, soft from years of wear. As you pull it over your head, you're wrapped in an invisible embrace, Logan's presence tangible even in this simple piece of clothing.

Turning around, you catch Logan absent-mindedly rubbing the towel over his head. You can't help but smile at the sight. "Here, let me help," you say, fetching the hair dryer from the bathroom.

You plug it in and step between Logan's legs, gently taking the towel from his hands. The dryer hums to life, and you run your fingers through his hair as you work, watching it become soft and fluffy under your ministrations.

"Look at you, all fluffy," you tease gently, running your hand through his hair.

Logan's eyes crinkle with amusement. In one swift motion, he pulls you close, guiding you to sit across his lap. "You're one to talk," he rumbles, nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh softly, your fingers still playing with his hair. It's so soft now, and you can't resist running your hands through it again and again. Logan lets out a contented sound, almost like a purr, leaning into your touch.

Gradually, you both shift to lie on the bed, limbs tangled comfortably. Logan's arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like you're the most precious thing in the world. You continue to stroke his hair, feeling the last bits of tension leave his body.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing. As sleep begins to tug at the edges of your consciousness, you feel utterly safe and loved in Logan's embrace. His breathing deepens, and you know he's drifting off too.

Few moments out of thousands flash through your mind as you sit at the bar, Jean's question hanging in the air. "Why Logan?" The memories of tender mornings, playful banter, quiet evenings, and the feeling of absolute safety in his arms all blend together, forming your answer.

You look up at Logan, who's watching you with a mix of curiosity and affection. The warm glow of the bar lights catches the amber flecks in his eyes, making them seem to smolder. You can feel the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours, his familiar scent - a mixture of leather, pine, and something uniquely him - wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You turn back to Jean with a soft smile, the taste of your drink still lingering on your lips.

"It's hard to put into words," you begin, your voice warm with emotion. The words catch in your throat as a flood of memories washes over you - Logan's rare, genuine laugh that always makes your heart skip a beat; the feeling of absolute safety in his strong arms; the tender moments in the quiet of the morning when he thinks you're still asleep. You open your mouth, ready to pour out your heart, but then you catch yourself. The intimacy of those moments feels too precious to share in the bustling, noisy bar.

Instead, you simply say, "Let's just say, when you know, you know."

The conversation moves on, but you can feel Logan's eyes on you, sense his curiosity. As you both leave the bar later, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside, Logan gently tugs your hand, pulling you close.

"What were you really gonna say back there, darlin'?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. His breath, warm and smelling faintly of whiskey, ghosts over your cheek.

You look up at him, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the softness in his usually stern eyes. For a moment, you consider telling him everything - how he makes you feel, why you love him. But something holds you back. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the alcohol, or the magic of the nighttime city around you, but instead, you stretch up on your toes and press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I'll tell you someday," you murmur against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a smile. "But for now, why don't we head back to my place."

Logan's arm wraps around your waist as you walk to his truck, and you lean into him, savoring the moment. The unspoken words hang between you, a promise for the future, as sweet and intoxicating as the night air.

---

a/n: quick! somebody call a dentist -- i think my teeth are rotting,,

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[dendroseelie]

unfamiliar feelings | kinich x reader

kinich turns up at your door injured, with an apology and feelings he's not familiar with

word count - 1.8k+

pairing - kinich x reader

warnings - mentions of blood

author's note: uhhh hello genshinblr, i'm veryyy new on here :) and this is my first work on here! i would love it if you could interact - however you'd like, and i would especially love it if you share your thoughts on it! it's a little more rushed than i would have preferred. i've been under the weather but i wanted to put something out at least sooo here it is :) a lil some thing on my fav boy lately heheh anyway feel free to drop in and leave a request if you'd like :) side note folks: saliva is actually good for healing your wounds so don't forget to make out with ur crush when your lips get busted lol

masterlist

request here | rules

“Did I wake you?”

Kinich’s voice is quieter than usual as you open the door to him at some 2:13 am in the night. The shadows being cast upon his face make it difficult for you to see his expressions but the tremble of his body sparks concern through you.

“Kinich, what are you doing here?”

Kinich lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. You step forward as he teeters on his feet, arms wrapping around his torso in support. A gasp leaves your mouth as his body moves from under the shadows and into the soft night light. Blood. Blood and cuts over his face. You’re horrified even more when you realize that you feel some wetness under your hand where your arm wraps around him.

“Uh, I needed some help,” Kinich mutters, body tense as he tries not to lean all his weight on you.

Kinich never asks for help. Things could go awry in a million ways, but Kinich refused to rely on anyone. His pride as most people say, or perhaps his past, as you think, stops him from ever leaning on someone. So to find him at your doorstep at two in the middle of the night, asking for help - must mean it's serious. And that makes your heart sink.

You hurry and tug him inside - he stumbles along.

“What happened?” Your voice drips with concern, the haze that usually slips in with the dwindling hours of the night completely fades.

You carefully aid him to sit on the small couch in your living room and turn to flip on the lights. The sight that greets you as you turn back to face him, makes you freeze in your tracks. “Kinich…”

His lip is busted and there’s a cut above his eyebrow, blood dripping along the side of his face. Your eyes move lower and see a gash over his chest and on the side of his torso. A deep ache squeezes through your heart and you rush into motion.

This is not how you last saw Kinich earlier in the afternoon when you had gotten into an argument, as always, about a commission he accepted. It was not out of the ordinary for you and Kinich to not see eye to eye about how you wanted to do things. This, in general, led to a lot of squabbles - however much of it Kinich would even entertain at all really.

Over the years, you and Kinich had developed somewhat of a friendship, at least whatever semblance of a friendship Kinich allows himself the privilege of. You spent a lot of time hanging out - you, him and Mualani were often found together. And between Mualani’s enthusiasm and his lack thereof, you were somewhere in the middle, somewhere more within Kinich’s comfort zone. And if you were being completely honest…you had grown something similar to a soft spot for this guy over the years. That did not mean Kinich did not frustrate you to the end of your wits.

Either way, holding fondness and affection for Kinich felt like extreme sports given the way he lived - uncaring of how things affected himself and in turn others. The boy was notorious for the way he seemed to hold no concern about his well-being and his tendency to accept dangerous, risky commissions that often felt like he was putting his safety on the line. To add to your worry, he was also hellbent on not accepting help.

So to no one’s surprise when he accepted another commission this morning - one which required him to into a particularly dangerous part of the wildlife all alone - you had gotten into an argument, a more serious one. You were trying to convince him to not take it up. The area was infamous for aggressive saurians and even some ruthless treasure hoarders who were not kind to ‘trespassers’. Kinich refused to drop the commission, insistent on doing it. When you suggested that he take someone along, another experienced adventurer, he had shut you down.

“This commission is paying good money. Sharing the commission means splitting the money, I don’t want to do that.” You doubt that was the only reason, he just did not want additional help, as always. Typical Kinich.

When you offered to tag along, pushing him to let you accompany him he had glared at you. Eyes fierce, words spiteful - “Y/N, you’re only going to make this trip more difficult for me. I don’t need an additional burden to look out for. And can you stop hovering around me like I’m a stupid kid? For Archon’s sake, stop doing that.”

His words had stung. Tears had quickly spring to your eyes and you had looked away from Kinich. So many thoughts rushed into your mind - were you overbearing? Did you bother him too much? He looked so frustrated. Did he dislike you? Just an inconvenience. A burden.

You had swallowed the hurt and nodded. “Okay…” You had whispered, before turning and breaking into a sprint toward your home. He hadn’t stopped you and you didn’t wait around to see the guilt slip into his eyes, fingers twitching by his side aching to stop you and apologize. But he didn’t. You went home and he went on the commission.

You’d come home and cried for some time, eyes red and swollen by the time Mualani came to check in on you in the evening. You didn’t tell her why, but she figured something had happened between you and Kinich. She kept you company and tried cheering you up with some gossip from her clan and stories from the market. After dinner, she had left and you had gotten into bed early with a book to keep your mind off the boy.

Now, you stood over the same boy who sat on your couch bloodied and bruised. You carefully yet swiftly assess the severity of his wounds before you head back into your bathroom to fetch your first aid box. You quickly sit in front of him. His face is contorted in pain and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“Can you help me take your shirt off? This one seems bad, let’s look at this first.”

Kinich murmurs his agreement and sits up straight to assist you in unzipping his top. Your hands come in contact with the bare skin of his shoulders as you push off the black fabric. Kinich trembles beneath your touch. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The gash across his abdomen comes into view as Kinich collapses back against the couch and you suck in a deep breath at the sight. “Kinich… What the fuck did you get into?”

You quickly get into work, sanitizing the area and cleaning it up with antiseptic wipes to get a better look at the wound. It doesn’t seem deep enough to require stitches but it’s bad enough to scar. Bad enough for the blood to have soaked through his top. “I think you should check with the town healer tomorrow, Kinich.”

“It’s okay, I don’t think it’s that bad,” he said, all the while wincing at the sting of the alcohol. His muscles ripple under your touch, goosebumps littering his skin as you work. 

You press your lips, holding back your words. Ever so stubborn. You wanted to avoid a repeat of the afternoon, now was not the time. You work in silence after that, the only sound being that of Kinich’s winces and the sharp breaths he sucks in through his teeth.

After you bandage his abdomen securely enough, you move on to the wounds on his face. You watch his face closely before leaning in. Your own breath stutters at the proximity and you find yourself clearing your throat as you apply ointment over his eyebrow.

Kinich’s eyes never leave you. His gaze seems fixed upon you. As you move on to cleaning his busted lips, he catches your eyes and the intense look in his makes your movements pause.

“What?” You ask, heat burning your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. For what I said… Earlier in the day.”

You nod, movements resuming as you dab the cotton ball to his lip. “You should be.”

You retract your touch, reaching out for the ointment. Kinich’s hand shoots up to grab yours. “Y/N… I truly am sorry.” He sighs. A pained expression flickers through his face and you’re almost worried his pain is getting worse but then he takes in a deep breath. He schools his expressions, eyes fluttering shut for a second before the sun-like gaze is back on yours. “I- I’m not the best at this. At asking for help or simply accepting it. I’m- I’m not familiar with having someone…someone caring for me the way you do. I’ve learned to be alone. I had to learn to be alone very early on and you know why.” He looks away, cheeks flushing pink. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with the care you show for me. It’s not something I’m used to, not something I know. B-but I do know that I like that you care. I like that you look out for me. And I want to do the same for you.”

“Kinich…”

“I’m not that dense, Y/N. I know a thing or two about feelings. But…I’m sorry that I’m not too good at knowing what to do with these feelings. So…I wanted to start with apologizing.”

“Apology accepted.” You smile, fingers aching to touch. So you do. You raise your palm to cup his cheek, making him meet your gaze. “You were an absolute dick to me earlier and I did not like how you spoke to me. I care about you Kinich. So, so deeply. I know feelings like this are…well, daunting to come to terms with. But, they’re something I want to share with you.”

A small smile curves onto his lips. He shifts his face to press a kiss into the inside of the palm on his cheek. A shiver runs through you at the feather-light brush of his lips. Your eyes zero in on his mouth. Kinich’s smile deepens. His hand reaches out, slipping under your hair, settling on the nape of your neck, your eyes flitter close. He tugs you closer before you can figure out what’s happening. His lips press into yours, and something warm erupts beneath your ribcage, blooming through you like the first, soft rays of dawn splitting through the clouds. You lean in closer, angling your head so you can get a better taste of what lingers upon his soft, soft lips. Kinich’s lips are so soft. He tastes like honey, the rawest kind - sweet and bitter at the same time. There’s a hint of blood, you realize belatedly as your teeth graze the plushness of his bottom lip. The hiss of pain leaving him is what makes you pull apart. Both your lips are glistening with spit, swollen and redder. 

“Sorry,” you whisper abashedly, unable to meet his eyes. “Uh, I forgot about that, let me just put on the ointment.”

As you fidget to fish out the long-forgotten ointment, Kinich stops you for the second time that night. A lop-sided smirk perched upon his inviting lips, eyes mirthful. “Well,” he begins as he tugs you closer. “You know what they say about the healing properties of saliva…”

“Kinich!”

[messenger-of-babel]

Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

[jetpackgeneratedcat]

It took literal months, but I finished it!!

Top left: linked universe logo

The jojo's lu logo is sooooo detailed. It is one of the things I love about Jojo's asethetic with linked universe. The detail she adds brings so much life and information about the world of Linked Universe. Great example is all the embroidery on the chain's clothing. Let's you know about civilization, that an item may be magical, etc. It is difficult to keep small details in watercolor, but I think I caught most of the main details in the painting.

Middle left: Soulful legend

This was the fourth of the images I did for the painting, and the first image I really started to get into the painting. I think legend is my favorite to paint because he makes composition so easy. The red tunic adds an easy focal point. I did learn from this that I do not like masking fluid and likely won't use it again. It added to many hard edges that I wasn't intending. Very happy with the sky!

Bottom left: Evening snack

In this image, I liked the idea that wind and sky don't know what Ramen is because their worlds don't have enough space to produce wheat. So sky and wind are super excited about this new food, while legend has no idea why they are so hyped for noodles. I also liked the idea that four found a green pepper in the ramen as a topping and is a hater (this is from a note that jojo left somewhere saying that the chain will eat anything but four in the Manga does not like green peppers, idk where this note is to link it though....). I didn't end up drawing the Ramen noodles as it was just getting too small of a scale for me to be comfortable drawing the thin lines for the noodles in.

Bottom right: Testudo

I am very hyped in the future when we see more collaborative fighting with the chain and them working together effectively. I absolutely love the scene in shifting shadows part 3 where lenged and hyrule work together with the beam and hookshot.

Middle: Legends storage

This is a reference to one of jojo's earliest works where the chain goes to legends storage for him to pick up some gear. I love that scene and I tried to put as many references as I could. The one thing I need to figure out is how I want twilight to look. I can't wrap my head around it. Need to sit down and just try out a bunch of different faces for him. My Pinterest inspo for twilight is all over the place. I want twilight to look different from time because when Malon was trying to guess who was the descendent, she did not consider twilight (she looked at wars and wind (so I typically draw time, wind, and wars looking similar). For my own personal headcannon, twilight and time are very similar in their manner (the way the walk, stand, etc) and personality (their stubbornness (as seen in sunset pt3)) but not necessarily in looks.

Middle right: Boat boys

The first image I did. I like how the water turned out, but I will not be using masking fluid for the same reasons I noted earlier. I did trace the boat (i think this is the reference [L240632 Hornet Class. J. Arthur Dixon Ltd. Beken and Son]). I do regret not doing anything creative with the boat, but I just wanted to get into painting and needed some confidence by working directly from a reference. I also forgot that legend might not be so keen to be on a boat again based on a comment jojo left in 2022 or something. I think she mentioned something in a discord event back then about legend not too willing to be on a boat again. But that doesn't really matter, I put that boy in a boat whether he likes it or not lol.

Top right: Winter storm

Second image I did for this painting. I did trace most of the horse because I do not care to learn horse anatomy (ref. [Winter Save By David Stoecklein]) Favorite part about this is the lighting on the rope from the lantern. I think it turn out well.

Top middle: Heavy armour

Third image I did for the painting and the one I realized I need to spend more time painting people in neutral or back lite lighting. But for my first time I think it is good. I really want to see what jojo does with the armour sets! I like the idea that war's armour is clean and pristine while wild's armour is rusted and beaten from the calamity. In this painting I played with adding pink to the golden armour and I liked it. In the middle picture of the collage (legends storage), you can see i added pink to time's armour.

That's everything! ❤️

[miabebe]

Anything and Always (YJH)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it wasn't regardless of anything and longer than always?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Yoon Jeonghan

Word count - 3.9K (this is a miracle)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and then there's more pyscho-ness, it's a rideee! Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you goooo! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's!

Big big big thanks to @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - you guys were really the hands behind this one ❤️

warnings - death, murder, blood, lots of toxic emotions like jealousy, possessiveness, extreme insensitivity, PDA, sex in a public place but no one sees them? unprotected sex, rough sex, filthy talk, marking, manhandling, mentions of blowjobs and sloppy seconds, mentions of exhibitionism, choking, creampie, fingering, stalking, obsession, disposing bodies mentioned?, honestly this whole fic is just a warning at this point, idk what to say

“.....Police say that this is possibly the most brutal act of violence they have come across in Seoul city in a long time. The forensics department is still trying to identify the body but estimate that the time of death might have been around 6 months ago. The motive of the crime is still unclear and….”  

Ignoring the sound of the tv you glanced at the two figures on the other side of the glass, standing close to each other, snickering away. Your hand tightened around the letter opener, the sharp edge slicing your skin open, blood trickling down your fist. The crimson felt cold but there was a strange fire coursing through your being.

How dare she? How dare she twirl her hair like a schoolgirl and put her hands on him? And what kind of fool did she take you to be? Did she think you couldn’t see the way she was stuck to your boyfriend like a leech or did she want you to see her making a move on your man? If it was the latter then she was most definitely successful – your eyes hadn’t left their huddled figures in the last ten minutes. At least not until red began to leak onto the papers strewn on the table. Groaning slightly, you quickly let the blade go and grabbed a tissue instead.

But you couldn’t let go of what was happening outside.

Pushing your chair back, you reached for your red satin gloves and slipped them on, covering your wound. It stung as the cloth grazed your skin but you knew it would feel better later, when you’ll run your hand through your boyfriend’s soft tresses as he fucks you into oblivion. He always made everything so much better. 

In complete contrast to the professional approach you’ve always advised your employees to maintain, you opened the door of your cabin and walked over to the pair, hugging your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Han.” You muttered, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck before glancing at the woman before you. She tried not to look at you, the same way the entire office was averting their eyes, choosing to look down at the floor instead. Afterall, no one wanted to see their boss romancing right in the middle of the workspace. You didn’t care what they thought, at least not anymore. All that mattered to you was what Jeonghan felt, so when he slowly pulled your hands away from him, you were a little hurt.

But in all fairness, Jeonghan was always like this. Always so wary of people around him, always so conscious, always so proper. If you were being honest, even you used to be the same until a few months ago. Until Jeonghan came into your life to be precise.

Before him life was different. Inheriting your father’s company at such a young age meant you had to prove you were worthy, you had to make sure you were taken seriously. That’s why you made it a point to enforce discipline at work – employees always had to be on time, tardiness was looked down upon, improper dressing was not allowed, discussing anything unrelated to work was not permitted and office romance was strictly forbidden. Again, all that was until Jeonghan made his way into your office one fine day, to interview for the position of your secretary.

You still remembered the moment he walked into your room, clutching his file against his chest, looking around with big eyes. Your childhood nanny turned caretaker introduced him, stating he was a smart guy who just finished his MBA and had a lot of potential. Apparently, a few months ago, he was recruited on the street and used to work as a part time model in your company – you couldn’t seem to recollect his face as he went on explaining how he wanted to do a more serious job now. Surely you would have known if the literal man of your dreams worked in the same space as you right? But then again, before your father died and you took over, you used to work in the writing column of this fashion magazine, the photography side of things was never in your radar. Yoon Jeonghan was never in your radar.

Making him your secretary was quite an easy decision – he had the qualifications, he already knew the company in and out and very soon, he knew you just the same too. 

Well, almost. 

He knew you took your coffee with foam art but he didn’t know it was because you liked that concentrated look on his face when he making it. He knew you always wore gloves as a fashion statement, but didn't know it was also to stop yourself from digging your nails into your skin every time you were stressed. He knew your caretaker and how important she was to you, but he didn’t know she was the closest thing you had to a mother, one whose presence you craved since you were a child. He knew inheriting this company had always been your dream but he didn’t know it was you who mixed the sleeping pills in your father’s milk that led to his overdose. 

Albeit you only added enough to make sure he wouldn’t make it to the extremely important meeting the next day. The idea was that you would have gotten the chance to replace him as CEO temporarily and show the board your talent, but apparently your father was weak enough to die from that miniscule amount, allowing you to permanently take over his role. But this wasn’t your fault, was it? So there was nothing for Jeonghan to know about it. 

Though there were a few things that he had discovered over time that a part of you wished he hadn’t - your anger, your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, your possessiveness…. He didn't know how bad it could get, but Jeonghan knew enough. That’s why the first thing he did when he pulled away from your grip was lead you to the private washroom in your cabin and fuck you mindless, thrusting into you hard and fast, letting your mark his neck carelessly.

Letting you mark him as yours.

“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, pulling you closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your pencil skirt went further up your torso as your boobs spilled out of your bra thanks to his sheer force as he showed no signs of slowing down. The granite of the sink counter felt unbearably cold against your bare ass but you didn’t care. Not when this position allowed him to ram into you while you ran your glove clad fingers in his hair, moaning right into his ear, and coaxing him further.

“Cum in me Hannie.” You purred, fingers digging into his arm. “Don't you want to fuck it back into me after work? I know how much you love your own sloppy seconds.”

“Don’t.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming harsher just at the thought of it. “We have an investor meeting after work today and I need to go pick up my niece after that. We can’t, baby.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him into a heated kiss. This was what you loved and hated about this man. From day one, he was incredibly efficient, always so aware of your schedules, of which client calls to avoid, which pen to carry to sign official documents - he was the perfect secretary, always keeping an eye on everything. He was also a perfectly good man, always donning the sweetest smile, trying to be helpful, staying alert about your smallest needs and wants. As much as you loved how he looked after you, it was seeing him being nice to everyone else that bothered you. 

Why did he have to lean over the desk of the girl clearly pretending to be stupid when he clarified her doubts? Why did he always agree to the dinners and the after work parties that various women in the company invited him to? Why did the lady in the canteen always bat her eyes at him and give him extra sandwiches? And was it your fault that one fine day nearly all these women decided to mass resign from your company? Yeah maybe you glared at them a bit too much and maybe you increased their workload to an unbearable amount but they chose to resign, that wasn’t on you right? Honestly, you should have stopped employing women after that - at least then you wouldn’t have hired her and seen her getting all handsy with your man.

“Stop thinking about her.” 

Pulling you off the counter Jeonghan spun you around, letting you look at your fucked out face in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged at the edges and the remnants of his cum were still at the corner of your lips from when you let him fuck your mouth minutes ago. “Eyes and mind on me when I’m fucking you, sweetheart.” He grabbed your face with his hand, squeezing it roughly. “The only thought that should be in your pretty little head is me, so stop thinking about her.”

And this was yet another reason you loved this man. He knew you like the back of his hand. He could tell from the slightest change in your expression what exactly you were thinking. He could tell from the furrow of your eyebrow what exactly you needed. He could tell when you wanted to be handled softly, and gently made love to and when you needed to just be fucked like a ragdoll. Right now, you just needed him to fuck the inappropriate thoughts out of your head and that’s exactly what he was doing, snapping his hips against yours with a relentless pace. Jeonghan might be someone who looked sweet and soft and fragile but man was he capable of fucking like a beast. No wonder you fell in love with him.

The moment you realised you had fallen head over heels for him, the first thing you did was simply tell him. Though it took him a fleeting moment, he confessed that he had been in love with you for the longest time now. Brfore you could properly even kiss him, he pushed you against the office window 78 floors high and fucked you right against it, ignoring the hundreds of staff on the other side of the glass cabin who didn’t know what to do but immediately evacuate from the floor. 

Since then, you had gotten the glass tinted and the two of you had christened almost every piece of furniture in your cabin in a similar fashion. You had Jeonghan’s things moved into your office from his cubicle and at any point you were not working, there was only one thing you were doing. Rather, one man you were doing. People would walk in on you more often than you liked to admit but stopping wasn’t an option and shame really wasn't a part of your character profile anymore. Only one thing mattered, then, now and always - Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan. 

“Oh god I’m close fuck fuck fu…” You felt your mouth hang as the feeling began to tighten in you, your legs weakening. With a hand on your back, Jeonghan pushed you onto the marble of the counter, your breasts and cheek pressed onto it, his other hand on your neck, pinning you in place

“Me too baby.” He groaned, fucking himself in you harder, momentarily forgetting how tight his grip around your neck was. The oxygen to your brain being cut off only made you feel more insane, mumbling meaningless words as you felt yourself being split open by the man you love. It was only when he saw your eyes nearly roll back that he loosened his hold, pressing his fingers into the soft skin on your hips, thrusting faster and deeper, grazing that spot again and again until you finally snapped. With a loud unintelligible moan, your walls fluttered around him, clamping his length and coating it with slick in a way that immediately sent him over the edge as he came, spilling into you in spurts. With a few more thrusts he continued to ride out his high like he didn't want to leave your warmth but when you winced at the overstimulation, he grimaced and finally pulled out.

As the two of you caught your breaths, slowly straightening yourself, you turned, finding yourself towered by him. Sighing, he caught your lips with his in a sweet kiss, in complete contrast to the way he slipped his fingers into your hole, pushing his cum further into you, for later. When the two of you finally parted, he stepped back, pulling up and buttoning his pants with a small smirk on his face. You smiled back, adjusting the panties he wasn’t even bothered to remove in his urgency, as you rang for your caretaker. Like always she would help you with your clothes, hair, makeup and make you look presentable but what was the point? Anyways, in a few hour’s time, everyone would get off work and you’d have to attend that one last meeting of the day but since it was just an audio call, you could still ride Jeonghan on your office chair while you were at it. You knew how much he loved the sight of his dick covered in his own cum pumping in and out of you so another round today was a given.

Just as Jeonghan finished dressing himself, your caretaker walked in with a fresh set of clothes, trying not to meet either of your eyes as always. Normally, Jeonghan didn’t hang around till you were made decent to the public eye, he let you have your space to dress but today it was like he could tell you wanted him around. Though his neck was littered with the red of bruises and your lipstick, and he smelled like he was doused in the sweet scent of you, the image of that woman’s hand on him kept flashing in your mind. You knew he could tell you had slipped back into those thoughts as he sighed, shaking his head. 

Putting his arm out he stopped the older woman, much to your surprise. “Let me.” 

And she did, handing your clothes to him before bowing deeply and excusing herself from there. 

Your eyes followed Jeonghan as he slowly undressed you of your wrinkled clothes, sweetly kissing you anywhere and everywhere he could. You loved feeling his mouth on you like this and you know he loved it too, you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. Except when he slipped your gloves off; then his expression shifted to one of pained worry.

“What happened?” He looked at you confused. “Y/n what-“

“I’m fine.” You brushed him off, but his grip on your wrist was tight. “I wasn’t careful when I used the letter opener so it just….”

“Baby.” If he could tell you were lying, you didn’t know. He just kissed your palm softly, looking at you like he was hurting more than you were. 

This man loved you. He loved you so much. He loved you just the way you were, he always made sure to let you know just how much he cared, yet you couldn’t help but continue to obsess over that memory. 

Shaking your head, you kissed him back, long and hard. 

You had to get it out of your mind. You had to do whatever it took to get it out of your mind.

This entire weekend you didn’t get to see Jeonghan thanks to his niece’s birthday. 

As much as you shouldn’t be jealous of a little girl for getting so much of your boyfriend’s attention, you were. You didn’t like anyone getting between you and Jeonghan but knowing how much he loved her, you were willing to let it slide. You still wanted to see him first thing Monday morning so you made sure to reach work as early as you could and were waiting by the door for him. 

Instead, to your surprise and disappointment, you were met with the familiar face of just the woman you didn’t want to see as she limped in, bandages scattered all over her body, her arm in a cast, hanging in a sling around her neck. 

Running your eyes over it, a small triumphant smile creeped on your face – now let her try and touch your man.

As though on cue, Jeonghan walked in, his eyes flickering between both the women before him. Reaching for your hand he pulled out the white glove you had donned today, running his finger along the fading wound. Seeing that it was much better, he interlaced his fingers with yours, and led you away to your cabin, without sparing his colleague a second look. You though, turned around just to catch sight of her dejected face. 

As Jeonghan prepared your morning coffee, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking at the way he meticulously pressed the coffee powder. There was no fear or possessiveness in this hug, you were just happy. Jeonghan made you happy. He always made sure you were happy. 

Since the day he began working in this company, your smile was what he craved for the most. No, not since he began working as your secretary - since he was recruited as a model, when he first laid his eyes on you. 

It was during a press conference, announcing you had joined your father's company now that you had graduated from business school. You looked so prim and proper, like a sweet little girl from a high society, a perfect heiress with your glove clad hands clasped, resting on your lap modestly. Something about you was just so…. innocent, so easy to corrupt. It made Jeonghan fear for you - The corporate world was harsh and cutthroat. Sweet little things like you didn't belong here. 

But over time Jeonghan learnt you weren't the little innocent girl you seemed like after all. He saw how ambitious you were, willing to even put down others to climb the ladder, willing to do anything. He saw your anger and the things it made you do. He saw your tantrums when you didn't get what you wanted. He saw everything because Jeonghan was always watching. Always. 

He was watching you at work, he was watching you make your way home, he was watching what you did in your little penthouse, strutting around in your pretty night dresses…. Jeonghan was always watching. That's how he knew that you liked men with longer hair, and that you preferred them blonde and tall and lean. That's how he made sure to groom himself, to become the man of your dreams. Because he knew exactly what your dreams were - afterall, he always watched you sleep too. 

That's also how he knew the number of sleeping pills you added in your father's milk weren't right. Yes you were ambitious and vile but you were short sighted. What you needed wasn't an opportunity to prove yourself but a permanent position to lead the company. That was your dream after all and Jeonghan would do whatever it took to make them come true. That's why he slipped in more pills into the glass - silly little you could surely not have thought so far.

The thing that Jeonghan didn't take into consideration though, was how inaccessible you would be to him once you became CEO. He didn’t get to see you as often and even if he did, you always had company. You were constantly monitored, always followed by security, always protected. He needed other ways of getting close to you, other ways he could keep an eye on you. 

The first step was to get your previous secretary to resign. Honestly, that was probably the hardest step along the way - no matter what Jeonghan did, and mind you, he did everything possible, she did not step down from her position. So he did what he had to make sure she never returned, to make sure they didn't ever find her.

Although he might have been a little less successful on that front - from what he heard on the news yesterday, it turned out that after all this while, they finally had found her. He just hoped that the cops didn't dig around there any further - it wasn't like anything could trace back to him, he made sure of that, but he didn't know if they could digest everything they would find in his favorite dumping spot. Afterall, he had to make all those who truly knew him disappear - he couldn't take the risk of anyone letting you know what he was capable of. Of how far he was willing to go for you.

Your caretaker knew. She was the only one who knew but Jeonghan needed her. He needed someone you trusted to recommend him to you so he dealt with her in a way that was far easier - he just promised her he would pick up her granddaughter everyday after working hours and make sure she reached home safely as long as she kept her mouth shut and introduced him to you. The old lady was a sensible one - she did what she was told. Perhaps she knew that if she didn't, no one would question if her foot were to accidentally slip and send her plunging down 78 stories. No one would care. 

But if anything similar were to happen to the colleague who was trying to make a move on him yesterday, Jeonghan knew you would be suspected. He couldn't have that happen, he couldn't have anything happen to you. 

That's why he followed the woman around over the weekend, making note of where she went and what she did, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. She told all the concerned employees asking her that she was too drunk and so she didn't realise she had walked into incoming traffic and Jeonghan didn’t see the need to correct her - she didn't walk on her own will, she was shoved. 

But then again, all that happened was she broke an arm and a few ribs, and dislocated her shoulder, it was hardly anything. At least when compared to the wound on your hand because of her. All that mattered was that the sight of her finally seemed to have put a smile on your face, knowing that he wouldn't have those hands on him again. That was enough for him, your happiness was enough for him. For that he would do anything. 

“Thank you for all that you do for me Han.” You muttered against his skin breathing in the combined scent of him and the coffee as he smiled to himself. But of course.  

Topping off your drink with a tiny foam heart, he turned to hand it to you, receiving your sweet smile in return. It made him scoff inwardly. Look at you, pretending to be all innocent. 

Like you too weren’t obsessively stalking her over the weekend.

Like it wasn’t your car that caused the accident that night. 

Like you didn’t pay off the cops to let you go while your employee laid bleeding and unconscious on the road. 

You always tried to hide so much behind that saccharine smile, but how could you? How could you when he was always watching? How could you when he would do anything to be by your side? How could you when he loved you more than anything Y/n? 

More than anything and longer than always. 

A/n - This is the first time I've dabbled in a genre like this so I'm nervous - kind comments and just thoughts in general are much appreciated! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's :)

[cookiescribble]

Innocent Love

Flufftober Day 16: “Yes, No, Maybe” + bonus prompt “I’ve Got You.” (this one gets an actual title because i was planning on posting this as a regular fic)

A/N: I don’t think this is quite what the prompt meant (and the words are out of order) but I was already in the middle of writing this when we decided we were doing flufftober and had written that line so I figured I’d use it for this prompt 🫶🏻 - mod angel 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: After talking through some emotional concerns, you and Spencer finally feel comfortable getting intimate with each other. 

CW: very fluffy smut (18+), mutual loss of virginity, discussion/description of SA (based on the memories he talked about in 3x16)

~~~

You were sitting on the couch, originally watching a movie that had since been forgotten about. Your hands were tangled in Spencer’s hair, your lips against his, your kisses feeling like they were the air you need to breathe. 

You pulled away for a moment, both of you trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding as if you just ran a marathon. You looked at each other, letting out a little laugh, still holding onto each other. 

“Do you remember anything that happened in the last 20 minutes of this movie?” He asked, still laughing softly. 

You laughed harder, shaking your head. “No, I was focused on something way more important,” you murmured, grinning as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

He hummed against your lips, his hands automatically coming to hold your face, and you were back to kissing fervently. 

After a few more minutes of this, you slowly pulled him on top of you, never breaking the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You could feel his heart beating fast against yours, as you slowly slid one hand under his shirt…

Suddenly, he pulled away, wincing, his breath shallow and shaky. You pulled your hand back, holding it out in front of you. “I’m sorry, was that too much?” You asked, worried that you were going to scare him off. You hadn’t been dating for too long, and you didn’t want to rush things, but it had just felt… right. 

He hesitated, still catching his breath. “No… Yes? Maybe? I…” He sighed, and you could feel his breath on your face since he was still so close to you. “I don’t know…”

You reached up to touch his face, consoling him and giving him a soft smile. “Let’s stop for now, okay?”

He nodded, sitting up, running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “Sorry…” he muttered, looking at you apologetically. 

You shook your head, putting your arm around him. “Nothing to be sorry about,” you assured him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his breath finally going back to normal. “I just… I-I don’t know,” he sighed, as if he was frustrated with himself. “I haven’t… I don’t…” he kept stumbling through starts of sentences he never finished. 

You pat his shoulder in a comforting gesture, letting him know you understood. You were trying to think of words yourself; you and Spencer had gotten far enough in your relationship that it was probably time to have a “talk,” but you felt shy about it. It was a slightly uncomfortable topic, especially since you didn’t know how to bring up your total lack of experience without sounding like a complete loser. 

He took your hand off his shoulder to hold it, linking your fingers together. The sweet gesture gave you the bit of courage you needed to keep talking. 

“So…” you started hesitantly, “do you… want to do… that, someday?” You tried not to blush, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal to talk about it. “Because some people don’t, and that’s totally okay too, and I really wouldn’t mind if-“

“No, I do,” he cut off your babbling. “I… I really want to try this with you. I just…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t… have any actual experience with… that, but I’ve had some experiences kinda… related to that, and they were… bad.”

You were kind of relieved to hear the first part of that, but hearing the last part of what he said made you furrow your brows. “I… also don’t have any experience, if that makes you feel better.” You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “But, the other thing… Do you want to talk about it?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting himself feel your calming touch. “I just… I’m worried I’ll start to freak out.” He sighed, gripping your hand a little tighter. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m more than willing to listen,” you replied softly. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

That caused him let out a soft chuckle, making you smile. “Okay, well… it started when I was in high school.” He stared into the distance as he talked, almost as if he was somewhere else, describing the events happening. “I was… well, less than popular in school, which I guess is to be expected when you graduate at 12.”

You nodded, giving his hand a little squeeze to try to ground him. You’re sure that wherever he was right now, it wasn’t a good place. 

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. “And… sometimes, people would just pretend to like me, and I didn’t know any better and I just believed them.” He gave your hand another squeeze. “One day… one of the girls in my class came up to me, and she said her friend wanted to meet me, and I was excited because I thought I liked her, and the idea of someone liking me was, like, unheard of at the time…”

You frowned, starting to soothingly stroke his hand with your thumb. He’d told you about his time in school being emotionally difficult, but he never told you any specifics. 

He opened his eyes again, still not looking at you. “So I met this friend at the time she told me, and when I got there… she was there, but it wasn’t just her; the whole football team was there, and…” His eyes were starting to water now. “And they… took my clothes off and they tied me to the goal posts… and they just laughed at me when I begged them to let me go.”

“Oh, Spence,” you whispered, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “That’s awful.”

He sniffled, looking like he was trying to hold his breath so he wouldn’t cry. He reached up to touch your hand that was on his face, closing his eyes again. 

You felt your heart breaking at his story. How could people be so mean to him? Especially when he was so young and vulnerable.

You pulled him into a tight hug, stroking his hair soothingly. “It’s okay now, honey,” you cooed in his ear. “I’ve got you. No one’s ever going to hurt you like that ever again.”

“I know…” he sighed, his voice still a little wobbly. “But I just… can’t forget it, and when you started to take my shirt off, it just brought me right back there.” He hugged you a little tighter, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the moment…”

You shook your head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Spence,” you assured him. “I would never ask you to do something you weren’t ready for.” You pulled back slightly to look at him, pushing his hair back so you could look in his eyes. “If you want to try to go further, we can take things slow, okay? We can take our time.”

He nodded, looking up at you with those big, sad eyes of his. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” He gave you a soft smile. 

You smiled back, kissing his forehead. “C’mon, let’s finish this movie.”

“I think we’re gonna have to rewind it,” he laughed softly, sitting up again. “I barely even remember what movie we were watching.”

…

You both kept your word about going slow. Every time you were alone together, you started to slowly get further and further. He eventually got comfortable with you taking his shirt off, and you both got a bit more comfortable letting your hands roam. 

One day, everything seemed to fall into place, and you were both finally ready. 

Spencer had come home after a rare slow day at the BAU, and he scooped you into his arms immediately when he entered your apartment. 

He was on you instantly, pulling you close and kissing you, his hands gently gripping your face as you fell back onto the couch. You let out a surprised hum against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss started to get very heated. You took his tie off, throwing it on the side of the couch. He let you unbutton a few of the top buttons on his shirt, eventually breaking the kiss to look at you with half-lidded eyes. 

“Can we… go to the bedroom?” he asked softly, panting from the intense kiss. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure?” you whispered back, reaching up to touch his face. 

He nodded, putting his hands over yours. “I’m sure. If… if you want to, that is…”

You nodded immediately, standing back up as you both walked to the bedroom, Spencer pulling you by your hand as you both giggled excitedly. 

You closed the door behind you, and Spencer slowly walked towards you, pulling you in by your waist. He kissed you, slower this time, with more intention. His hands slowly slid up your sides as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You let out a dreamy sigh, hugging him tightly. You lifted your arms as you let him pull your shirt off, tossing it off to the side somewhere. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, and it joined yours on the floor as you fell back on the bed, Spencer quickly moving on top of you, his touch on your body feather light. 

His hands worked achingly slow, feeling every inch of you. Starting at your neck, slowly sliding down your arms, back up your waist… his touch so gentle you might not have felt it, if you weren’t paying attention. 

But, oh, you felt it. It felt like electricity was flowing through your body with every touch of his fingertips. He looked into your eyes as his hands kept roaming your body, you never thought you could feel so loved by somebody.

Eventually, his hands came to slowly push down your bra straps, making your breath catch in your throat. “Can I take this off?” He asked, his voice soft and sweet like honey. 

You nodded, sitting up so he could reach your back to unhook it. After a few moments, it joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You looked up at him, and he was looking into your eyes. His eyes were slightly widened, and he seemed as though he was keeping himself from looking at you. 

You let out a warm laugh, reaching up to touch his face. “You’re allowed to look, Spence.”

He blushed as his eyes roamed down your body, leaning you back so you were laying down again. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands resuming their search on your body. You closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel the sensation. 

Eventually, his hands reached your chest, making you gasp lightly. Your eyes opened instinctively as you felt him hesitate. “Is… is that okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your face slightly flushed. “It’s just… new. But not bad.” You looked up at him sheepishly. “It feels… nice.”

He gave you a soft smile, his head coming down to meet yours, your foreheads and noses touching. His hands resumed the soft touch, making you let out a soft moan when he touched the sensitive part of your skin. 

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then started planting soft kisses down your neck and your shoulders until his lips finally found your breasts. You let out a gasp, your eyes closing as your hands tangled in his hair. Your heart was pounding like crazy; you wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel it from where he was. 

His kisses were achingly gentle, before his tongue started moving in circular motions. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you were letting out soft whimpers. Eventually, he made his way back up and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. 

You both looked at each other, giggling softly, feeling like two teenagers sneaking away on prom night. You felt giddy, but serious at the same time. This meant a lot to both of you. 

You bit your lip, your hand slowly sliding down his side before you started to undo his belt. He let out a shaky breath, and soon you were working on his button and zipper, pulling it down…

“Wait!” He exclaimed suddenly, making you pull your hand away, slightly startled. 

“D-do you want to stop?” You asked, worried you did something wrong. 

“No, no, I don’t want to stop,” he shook his head. “I just… can’t forget…” he trailed off as he pulled something out of his pocket, placing a condom on your bedside table. 

You blushed fiercely, that one gesture suddenly making everything feel more real. 

He settled back on top of you, reaching his hand out to gently cup your cheek. “Had to make sure that didn’t get stuck in the clothing pile,” he laughed warmly. 

You laughed back, touching your noses together again. “Well, is it okay if this goes in the clothing pile now?” You asked, tugging at the waistband of his pants. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, his face looking a little red. “All good now.”

You reached down to tug at his pants again, pulling them down as Spencer helped you slide them off. Your eyes wandered down his body, seeing something very prominently bulging in his underwear. Your eyes darted back up to his face, your cheeks turning pink. 

His hands were back on you, sliding down your sides before resting on your hips. “Your turn?” He whispered. 

“Y-yeah,” you whispered back, swallowing and nodding. You reached down to unbutton your own pants before Spencer’s hands were sliding underneath them, and soon they were discarded to the clothing pile. 

He got closer to your face again, biting his lip. “I’ve, uh, been doing some… research…” he murmured, sounding a bit flustered. 

“Research?” You repeat, laughing lightly. “What kind of research?”

“Well,” he started, his hand resting on your hip. “I just… really want to do this right. And I want you to feel good. So I, uh…” he looked a bit embarrassed. “I looked into… what women say feels good. And like, how to… get you… prepared…” he let out an awkward laugh, running his hand through his hair. 

You giggled, covering part of your face with your hand, your face feeling hot. “Yeah? And what did you discover?”

“Well, there were things they said help so it doesn’t hurt,” he explained, his hand trailing down your leg now. “So… I wanted to try it, because I don’t want you to be in pain while we do this.”

He was so sweet you could almost cry. Instead, you just nodded. “Okay… let’s try it, then.”

He nodded back, lifting your legs up and slowly pulling your underwear off. You looked up at him, a bashful look on your face as you lay bare underneath him. 

He took a moment to look over your body before clearing his throat. “Okay, so, the first thing they recommended was putting a pillow under your hips.”

You nodded, taking one of the pillows you weren’t laying on and handing it to him. 

He furrowed his brows, the way he did when he was concentrating hard on something. You picked up your hips so he could slide the pillow underneath you. 

“Comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting your position slightly. Your hips were angled slightly upwards now. “What’s next?” 

“Next is to… get you… ready.” He reached up to  push a strand of hair out of your face. 

“R-ready?” You asked, your face a bit flushed. “So you’re gonna… t-touch me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, it’s okay. I guess I’m just a bit… nervous. I’ve never had anyone touch me like that before,” you mumbled, looking away. 

“Me neither,” he replied, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “But, this is supposed to help you feel less nervous, on top of trying to get your body used to… something being… in there,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat, your face bright red now. “Right, yeah,” you took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what was about to happen. “Okay.”

His hand trailed down your body again, watching your face for any reactions. He parted your legs, his hand resting on your lower stomach. “Ready?” He whispered. 

“Ready,” you whispered back, taking another deep breath. 

His hand trailed down until he finally reached the bundle of nerves between your legs, touching it tentatively. 

Your breath hitched, and you let out a little whimper. Just one small touch and you were already feeling your body react. Your arms reached out to wrap around his shoulders, hugging him for support. 

“Does that feel good?” Spencer whispered in your ear, his fingers pausing to make sure you were still okay. 

You nodded vigorously, threading your fingers in his hair, your faces so close that you could feel his breath. “Yeah…” you whispered back, your face flushed. “It… it feels really good.”

His other hand moved to stroke your hair soothingly as he started circling your bud, earning a soft moan from you. 

The juxtaposition between the innocent sweetness he was showing and the very not innocent thoughts you were having were starting to make your head spin. You didn’t think you could ever feel so good, but you were already getting so worked up that you couldn’t imagine yourself lasting much longer. 

After a few minutes of Spencer rubbing you achingly slowly, he whispered to you again. “I’m gonna, um…” He seemed like he almost felt too shy to say the words. “… put my finger in now, okay?” He cleared his throat, his eyes looking into yours. “It’s supposed to help stretch you out a bit, so it doesn’t hurt… l-later.” He was blushing, his awkward mumbling sounding very endearing to you.

“Y-yeah, okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I can handle that.”

He nodded, stroking your hair before he went any further. “Just relax,” he whispered. “It said that tensing makes it more likely to hurt.”

You took a deep breath, relaxing your body as much as you could manage. It didn’t help that he had gotten you worked up so quickly. 

He pressed your foreheads together as he slowly slid one finger in, making you hug him a little closer, letting out a quiet whine as you felt this new sensation in your body. It was almost like a slightly full feeling, except that you felt like you wanted more. 

“Is that okay?” He asked softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“N-no,” you stammered, deciding you’d answer his last question first. “It doesn’t hurt, it feels really good.”

“Do you think you can manage a little more?” He searched your face to look for any signs of discomfort. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, swallowing. “I think I can.”

He nodded at you, pressing his face to yours as he slowly slipped another finger in. 

You let out another soft whine, holding him a bit tighter. He looked at you, silently asking a question. “I’m alright,” you whisper softly. “It feels good.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he started moving his fingers, the new sensation filling you with excitement, already feeling like you were close to coming undone. 

“Spence…” you moaned softly as he suddenly kissed you hungrily, his tongue in your mouth causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair tightly. 

You didn’t think anything could feel this good, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, hitting you where it felt the best every time as if he was an expert. You felt something building in your stomach, your toes starting to curl as you let out a string of moans and whimpers. 

You pull away from the kiss, breathing shakily as you try to speak. “Spence… I-I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut as you suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much pleasure was coursing through your body. 

Spencer ran a hand through your hair, the gesture very gentle compared to the relentless way his fingers were moving inside of you. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear before his lips were back on yours, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

The tenderness in his voice and feeling of his lips and the movement of his fingers finally sent you over the edge, moaning loudly as you felt waves and waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Your back arched off the bed as you got lost in the pleasure, almost feeling like it was never going to end. 

Finally, you felt yourself come down, panting as you tried to process what just happened. You’d never really felt that kind of sensation before.

Spencer was looking at you in awe when you finally looked back over to him, also seeming to be processing what just happened. 

You blushed, feeling a bit shy after all that. It made you feel more exposed than taking off your clothes had. 

After a few moments, he broke the silence by whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” He pushed your hair back, getting a better look at your flushed face. 

You smiled sheepishly, your heart warming at how sweet he was. He was really good at comforting you during such a vulnerable time. 

“So, uh…” you started, absentmindedly running your finger up and down his arm. “Do you think that was… sufficient?” You chuckled awkwardly, feeling like you sounded ridiculous. 

He was also blushing, his voice warm and sweet. “I hope so,” he laughed lightly back. “Do you feel… ready?”

You leaned in, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready for anything in my life,” you murmured. 

You both smiled at each other, Spencer’s face getting more and more flushed as your hand traced down his side to his hip. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one not wearing any clothes right now,” you teased as your fingers stopped right under the waistband of his underwear. 

He bit down on his tongue, his hand moving to help you finally take off the rest of his clothes. 

Soon, you both lay there, completely bare. Your face was a bright red, your eyes widening automatically as you looked over his body. You moved your eyes back up to his face and he met your gaze, pressing his forehead to yours and gently cupping your cheek. 

“Are you, ah…” You felt a bit embarrassed as you spoke. “Are you sure it was enough… preparing?” As stereotypical as it sounded, you were having trouble imagining him fitting inside of you.

He smiled softly, tangling his legs together with yours, the sense of closeness feeling reassuring to you. “You can tell me if it hurts… I want you to tell me if it hurts, okay? Or if you changed your mind-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I didn’t change my mind. I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into another kiss, slowly moving on top of you so he was straddling your waist. You stifled a moan when you felt something hard pressing against your stomach.

After a few more moments, he pulled away slightly, his mouth still inches away from yours. “Okay, I… I’m going to…” He trailed off as he sat up a bit more, his hand right next to your face as his other reached for the condom on the table. 

You felt a bit embarrassed just staring at him, but you kind of couldn’t help it. “So, there’s like… a right and a wrong way to wear it, right? I remember being taught that in high school.”

He nodded, tearing the wrapper open and starting to slowly roll it down his length. “Yeah, I’ve been, uh… practicing,” he admitted sheepishly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat as you thought about what that “practicing” meant. For some reason, it excited you how much he prepared for this. It meant that he really cared a lot for you. 

After it was on, he came back down to face you again. “Ready?” He asked softly, his hand finding yours and interlocking your fingers together. 

You gave his hand a little squeeze. “Ready,” you replied, nodding determinately. 

He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed himself in, both of you letting out a little gasp as you finally joined your bodies together in this intimate harmony. 

You let out a little whimper when he was all the way in, feeling perfectly full. You fit together perfectly, like you were made for each other, as cliché as that sounded. 

After a few moments of just staying like that, your foreheads pressed together as you both adjusted to this new feeling, Spencer spoke breathlessly. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels… amazing,” you admitted, whispering to him. 

He smiled softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Can I start moving?”

You nodded quickly. “Please,” you practically begged, your body already aching for this pleasure that was only just starting. 

He wasted no time, his eyes closing as he started a steady rhythm, his movements almost achingly slow. 

He leaned his head down for another heated kiss, letting out a quiet moan against your lips. You squeezed his hand tight, matching his moan as his thrusts started getting a little faster. 

You could immediately feel the pleasure building inside of you again. He was able to hit the exact spots that made you whimper and moan, and hearing his own muffled noises of pleasure against your lips was making you feel dizzy. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck, his movements starting to get erratic. He sounded like he was mumbling something to himself, his voice vibrating against your neck. You think you heard him listing some of the periodic table elements, which could’ve almost made you laugh if you weren’t so lost in the feeling of him. 

“Spence…” you whimpered, trying to pull his head up to press your face against his. “It’s… I…” You tried to convey the feeling building inside you as you felt yourself getting more and more worked up with each of his thrusts, but you couldn’t even form a cohesive thought. Instead, you squeezed his hand tighter, letting out a loud moan. 

Thankfully, he understood you, and you could feel his hair tickling your forehead as he nodded. “Me too,” he breathed, his voice slightly whiny. “God, me too.”

You wrapped your arm around him, the movement of his hips getting faster and faster as the room was filled with the noises you both were letting out. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore; your back arched, pressing your body against his, your feet tangling together as you felt his tensing against yours. You felt yourself hit that high for the second time tonight, your hips moving to meet his as he moaned loudly, his hips shuddering as he came right there with you, the frenzied movements dying down until he finally stopped, collapsing on top of you. 

You were both panting, trying to catch your breath after such an intense moment. He let go of your hand to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face in your neck. You reached up to gently stroke his hair, your other hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on his back. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes, keeping each other close, your hearts thrumming in your chests against each other. His body was warm on top of yours; he almost felt like your personal weighted blanket. 

Eventually, Spencer lifted his head up to look at you. As you met his eyes, you both let out a little giggle, the giddiness of what you just experienced really hitting you. He moved so he was laying on his back, scooping you into his arms as you curled up into his side. 

“That was… wow,” you finally broke the silence, a big smile on your face. 

He smiled back at you. “Incredible,” he finished for you. “I… I never thought I could feel quite like that.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your tone slightly teasing. “Your ‘research’ didn’t prepare you for that?”

He laughed warmly, pulling you closer against him. “Nothing could’ve prepared me; you’re a one-of-a-kind person, and everything with you just feels so… special,” he gleamed at you, putting his hand over yours. “I… I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you breathed, getting slightly teary-eyed. You weren’t prepared for just how emotional this would make you. “I can’t imagine myself doing that with anyone besides you.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, his tone soft as his thumb wiped away the tear that was forming. “You okay?”

You nodded, turning your head to give his hand a little kiss. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you smiled softly at the comforting touch. “Just feeling a lot of emotions, I guess.”

“That’s normal,” he replied, pushing your hair back so he could look at you better. “The hormonal release can cause a flood of emotions, sometimes causing postcoital tristesse. It’s normal to feel some anxiety or sudden sadness-“

“It’s not sadness,” you cut him off. “I’m crying because I'm so happy.” You smiled wide, nuzzling his nose with yours. 

He couldn’t help but smile back, his eyes closing as he nuzzled your nose back. “That can also happen. I’m glad that’s the one you’re feeling.”

“Me too,” you sighed contentedly, resting your head on his shoulder as you closed your eyes, exhaustion suddenly hitting you. 

He let out a warm laugh as he saw you getting comfortable, hearing the drowsiness in your voice. “How about we get dressed and go to sleep?” he whispered. “I think we’ll both sleep really well tonight.”

“Mhm…” you mumbled, trying to will yourself to sit up after your body suddenly felt really heavy. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

After a bit of effort, you both got up to change into your pajamas, stealing a few quick kisses as you did so. You settled back into bed, snuggling up under the covers, whispering “goodnight”s before you both fell asleep almost instantly. 

After that night, you were practically inseparable. This had basically become a nightly routine; you tried out a whole bunch of positions to test what felt the best for both of you. His favorites were the ones where he could hold you in his arms. 

It always ended with lots of snuggling afterwards, the intimacy making your relationship even stronger than it was before. You never thought you could feel this much love for someone, but you felt it every day with Spencer.

[heartdesire]

     princeling   does   not   believe   in   the   outlandish   concept   of   love   nor   has   he   ever   experienced   the   phenomenon   of   love   at   first   sight      —   no   matter   how   many   times   sixteen   year   old   sister   congregated   household   within   estate's   movie   theater,   after   triumphant   win   of   rock,   paper,   scissors,   to   screen   scrupulously   -   selected   film   from   personal   collection   of   romantic   comedies.   in   fact,   one   would   go   as   far   as   to   say   he   had   spent   twenty   years   of   his   life   never   experiencing   a   single   emotion   that   went   along   with   it.   nonetheless,   athlete   could   count   on   one   hand   the   amount   of   significant   others   accumulated   over   two   decades   despite   particular   view   on   relationships.   women   were   amusing   for   a   short   period   then   became   more   vexing   than   they   were   worth.   prince   prefers   the   notion   of   one   night   stands,   receiving   every   ounce   of   pleasure   beating   vessel   desires   under   moonlight   then   inaudibly   slipping   out   begrimed   sheets   to   accrue   dispersed   articles   of   clothing   from   bedroom   floor   to   redress   well   before   sun   caresses   the   horizon   signifying   morningtide.   absense   of   strings   allows   homme   to   come   and   depart   when   he   wants   without   cellular   device   acquiring   influx   of   irate   text   messages   after   being   photographed   with   damsel   whom   one   slept   with   in   the   backseat   of   luxury   sports   vehicle   twenty   minutes   after   image   hit   the   internet.   as   dyad   stand,   second   -   born   hayashi   feels   something   more   riveting   than   lechery   (   .   .   .   )   an   incessant   itch   that   nails   upon   epidermis   would   be   unable   to   satisfy.   ❝   they   wouldn't   know   what   to   do   with   you.   ❞   remarks,   obsidian   hues   taking   note   of   endearing   snaggletooth   showcased   with   even   a   hint   of   a   smile   on   winsome   features.   teammates   could   probably   ruminate   on   a   million   things   to   do   with   cherub   yet   with   every   possibility   own   cerebrum   can   supply,   he   feels   practically   overwhelmed   by   rage.   light,   fleeting   touch   on   sternum   brings   lopsided   smile   to   brims.   femme   undeniably   brazen   and   surely   unaware   of   the   web   she   is   allowing   herself   to   be   woven   into.   hand   atop   her   shoulder   moves   then,   gradually   descending   down   limb   until   fingers   are   able   to   entwine.   ❝   chance.   you   can   lead   the   way.   ❞   introduction   smoothly   cut   short   when   impatience   begins   to   rear   its   ugly   head.   there   were   few   hayashis   born   with   forbearance,   and   coincidentally,   trait   happened   to   bypass   him   completely.

˚   ₊   ‧   𓈒   ❀   cranium   raises   quite   a   bit   when   steady   hand   is   placed   upon   shoulder.   as   the   most   sought   out   in   nightclub   with   two   years   of   expertise   under   her   belt,   malachai   has   rapidly   become   knowledgeable   on   the   type   of   clients   that   will   frequent   the   high   end   strip   club   ———   the   timorous,   often   the   ones   who   are   aware   of   the   fact   that   they   should   not   be   venturing   into   such   an   establishment,   perpetually   due   to   the   fact   that   client   usually   has   an   eternally   -   devoted   significant   other   and   darling   progeny   who   thrive   under   his   tutelage   most   in   this   world,   or   the   exigent,   who   commands   ecdysiasts   as   if   he   owns   them   and   belittles   them   despite   being   desperate   for   the   sort   of   pleasure   only   they   can   provide.   with   all   of   that   in   mind,   it   is   safe   to   assume   that   occupation   was   not   something   doll   adored,   which   is   a   reasonable   assumption,   but   malachai   finds   that   if   she   situates   psyche   in   such   a   way,   it'd   only   induce   abject   misery.   the   truth   of   the   matter   was,   it   was   not   something   she   had   loved,   nor   loathed,   it   was   merely   something   to   keep   and   sustenance   placed   upon   solid   oak   oval   coffee   table.   notion   was   difficult   for   many   to   follow   when   posed   like   this,   and   in   the   end,   she   would   simply   reassure   them   all   that   she   was   existence   with   her   life   as   it   stands,   savoring   the   highlights   of   the   career   (   .   .   .   )   like,   now,   for   instance.   a   moment   of   stillness   overtakes   the   newfound   twosome   as   dollette   takes   in   other's   physiognomy   as   best   she   can   under   such   harsh   azure   luminescence   ———   she   does   not   believe   she   has   ever   seen   anyone   who   resembles   him,   countenance   nothing   short   of   celestial.   from   what   she   can   gather,   every   bit   of   him   looks   delicate,   the   ultimate   deception   just   based   upon   this   interaction   alone,   but   she   allows   herself   to   be   impetuous   just   this   once,   poorly   concealing   simper   with   a   turn   of   her   head   when   homme   speaks   once   more.   ❛   well,   ❜   articulation   is   spoken   with   a   candy   -   laced   lilt,   cat   -   like   hues   taking   him   in   once   more.   ❛   i   was   supposed   to   spend   my   night   in   a   section,   but.   .   .   how   could   i   refuse   a   night   with   you?   ❜   before   a   manicured   digit   is   placed   upon   other's   chest,   only   to   be   trailed   down   ever   -   so   -   softly,   then   withdrawn.   ❛   sorry,   manners.   i'm   kai.   ❜