#i want someone to lean on. i want someone to hold me and i want someone who wont judge me for who i am. someone i can be comfortable around

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[dissapointu]

how about the arcane characters seeing their crush fight someone for the first time (and winning)? and like, they just didn't know how strong reader truly is?

OH SNAP. YOU’RE OUT HERE THROWING HANDS AND TAKING NAMES?? The Arcane crew would LOSE IT seeing you handle business for the first time—especially since they had no idea you were this strong. They’d be standing there like, “Wait… when did you become a total badass??”

Jinx

Jinx would be cheering you on like a maniac.

• The moment she sees you throwing punches, she’s SCREAMING. “GET ‘EM! GET ‘EM! THAT’S MY CRUSH!”

• She’s doing the chaotic Jinx laugh the whole time, completely hyped up by your energy.

• When you win, she’s sprinting up to you, grabbing your face, and grinning like, “That was AMAZING! You’re, like, a total beast! Why didn’t you TELL me??”

• Lowkey? She wants to see it again. “We should start a fight club or something. You’d crush it!”

Vi

Vi is SHOOK but also a little turned on, let’s be real.

• She’s watching you handle the fight, and her jaw just DROPS. “Damn, I didn’t know you had it in you…”

• She’s impressed as hell, crossing her arms and nodding as you take down your opponent like a pro.

• When you win, she saunters up to you all casual but can’t hide the smirk. “Not bad. You’ve been holding out on me, huh?”

• You’d catch her sneaking little proud glances at you for the rest of the day. “That’s my kinda person.”

Sevika

Sevika’s eyebrows are practically in her HAIRLINE watching you fight.

• She didn’t think you had it in you, so she’s just standing there, arms crossed, staring like, “Well, damn. Look at you go.”

• When you win, she’s all smug, leaning back and grinning. “Didn’t know you were such a badass. Guess I’ll have to start watching my back, huh?”

• She wouldn’t admit it, but seeing you fight earns you a TON of respect in her book. She’s definitely bringing it up later. “You know, not many people can throw a punch like that. I’m impressed.”

Silco

Silco is stunned but trying to act like he’s not.

• He’s watching the fight with a raised eyebrow, sipping his drink like, “Interesting.” But internally? He’s like, “Where have they been hiding this?”

• When you win, he calmly walks up to you, gives you an approving nod, and says something cryptic like, “You’re full of surprises. I admire that.”

• He’s definitely making mental notes about how you might be a bigger asset than he realized. But also? He’s secretly impressed by how you can handle yourself.

Vander

Vander is proud AND worried all at once.

• He’s watching you fight, hands on his hips, muttering stuff like, “Didn’t think they had that in ‘em… but damn, they’re good.”

• When you win, he walks up to you with the classic dad voice: “You alright? Didn’t know you could handle yourself like that. You really showed ‘em, though.”

• He’s proud as hell but makes you promise not to take unnecessary risks. “I know you’re strong, but don’t go looking for trouble, yeah?”

Ekko

Ekko is blown away and immediately HYPED.

• He’s watching you fight like, “Ohhh snap! Look at them GO!” He’s bouncing on his heels, ready to jump in if you need backup, but realizing… you don’t.

• When you win, he’s practically tackling you in excitement. “That was AMAZING! Since when were you such a badass??”

• He’s 100% bragging about you to the Firelights later. “My crush? Absolute legend. You should’ve seen them.”

Jayce

Jayce is equal parts surprised and impressed.

• He’s standing there with wide eyes, muttering, “Wait, when did they learn how to do THAT?”

• When you win, he’s immediately running over, grinning like a golden retriever. “That was insane! You’re incredible—how come you never told me you could fight like that?”

• He’s hyping you up for DAYS afterward. “No, seriously, did you see how they took that guy down? Absolute powerhouse.”

Viktor

Viktor is completely blindsided.

• He’s watching the fight like, “Wait… what is happening right now?” He’s genuinely shocked because he didn’t think you were the type to throw hands.

• When you win, he’s just staring at you in awe. “You… you didn’t even break a sweat. That was incredible.”

• He’d definitely be curious about how you learned to fight and want to hear all the details. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is lowkey AMAZED but trying to stay professional about it.

• She’s watching you fight, hands clasped behind her back, muttering under her breath like, “Impressive… very impressive.”

• When you win, she gives you a warm smile and says something like, “I always knew you were capable, but I didn’t realize you were THIS capable. Well done.”

• She’s super proud of you but probably a little worried you’ll get hurt next time. “Just… be careful, alright?”

Mel Medarda

Mel is intrigued and very, VERY impressed.

• She’s watching the fight with a small smile, sipping her wine like, “How fascinating.”

• When you win, she gracefully approaches you and says something smooth like, “You’ve been holding out on me. That was quite the performance.”

• She’s 100% filing this information away for later, already thinking about how your strength could come in handy.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is IMPRESSED beyond belief.

• She’s watching you fight with a smirk, nodding to herself like, “They’ve got potential.”

• When you win, she strides up to you and claps a hand on your shoulder. “You fight with skill—and heart. I respect that.”

• She’d probably want to spar with you later just to test your limits. “Let’s see what else you’re capable of.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is both shocked and fascinated.

• He’s watching the fight with wide eyes, clutching his little staff like, “Oh dear, oh dear… they’re actually quite formidable!”

• When you win, he’s rushing over to check on you. “My word! That was… extraordinary. Are you alright?”

• He’d definitely want to know more about your skills. “Your technique is quite remarkable. Have you considered joining a combat academy?”

Salo

Salo is quietly impressed but not super showy about it.

• He’s watching you fight with a raised eyebrow, muttering under his breath like, “Huh. Didn’t see that coming.”

• When you win, he gives you a subtle nod and says something lowkey like, “Not bad. You’re tougher than you look.”

• He’s definitely rethinking everything he thought he knew about you.

Scar

Scar is losing his mind in the BEST way.

• He’s hyping you up the whole time, yelling stuff like, “GET ‘EM! That’s my crush right there!”

• When you win, he’s immediately running over, laughing and clapping you on the back. “That was EPIC! You’re my hero!”

• He’s bragging about you to literally everyone. “Yeah, my crush just took someone down like a pro. No big deal.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is floored but super proud.

• She’s watching you fight with wide eyes, quietly whispering, “Wow… they’re amazing.”

• When you win, she’s blushing and smiling as she walks over to you. “That was incredible. Are you always this strong?”

• She’d definitely admire you even more after seeing you hold your own like that.

Lest

Lest is completely captivated.

• She’s watching you fight with a mix of awe and concern, muttering to herself like, “They’re… really strong. I had no idea.”

• When you win, she’s rushing over to make sure you’re okay, brushing some imaginary dust off your shoulder. “That was amazing, but are you hurt? You’re incredible.”

• She’d probably be in awe of you for DAYS afterward. *“I can’t believe you did that. You’re amazing”

[deathbxnny]

Can you do how the arcane characters would react to you having a Panic attack/panick attacks

Arcane characters reacting to you having a panic attack! | Caitlyn, Sevika, Jinx, Vi x Gn!Reader

Thank you for your request, Anon! I absolutely loved writing this, so I hope you'll enjoy it!<33

Content: Panic attacks, fluff, swearing, established relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

Her first instinct is to immideatly take you somewhere safe and private when she notices the panic attack approaching. She has very good intuition and has observed you for long enough to know your cues and signs, but sometimes even her own senses about you fail her during acute attacks that come out of nowhere. This doesn't mean that you can't rely on her to take care of you anyway.

"Hey, hey... let's breathe together, okay? Alright. Deep breathe in... hold it... and now release slowly... good job, let's do it again."

She's very quick to react to your needs and usually tries to regulate your breathing first before anything else, as that's how she learned to deal with them in her medical training. Caitlyn will also try and keep some distance in between you two in case you need space and only come closer once you're ready for that. She's very gentle and patient, as she soothes away your fears and worries.

Later on, she'll gently hold you and spoil you with nice food whilst you finally calm down and rest. Cait won't ever push you to tell her what triggered you, but will encourage you to tell her how she can help you better next time. Something she'll probably write down somewhere for future reference for better efficiency.

》SEVIKA

The first time it happens to you around her, she'll admittedly be a little surprised. It's not like she hadn't seen panic attacks before, but she simply just never had to deal with them before. With that said, her first instinct is to wonder if someone had bothered you and, if so, how quick she can beat them up for hurting you like this. The last thing she wants is for someone to ruin that beautiful smile of yours, and the sight of you suffering like that makes her feel uneasy.

"Alright, tell me what you need, and I'll do it for you right now. I just... fuck, tell me how to help you, sweetheart."

Sevika will lean down to your level after also taking you somewhere private so that she can let her guard down in peace and focus on you. She's not good at comforting people no matter who you are, and she's certainly also not the most affectionate person out there. But she knows to keep her distance and focus on what you need from her in that moment. Your hyperventilating and short breaths worry her, but that's nothing she can't handle with some direction from you.

After the panic attack blows over, she'll demand a detailed list of what exactly she should do better next time. She doesn't like being unprepared, especially when it comes to your care and well-being.

》JINX

She has memorized absolutely everything about you and is the first person to notice when a panic attack is coming up, which makes her the best helper out there at that moment. Jinx immideatly springs into action and brings you to her hideout, where she knows things are safe and sound. No one can hurt you here, especially not with her around. She'll sit on the ground with you and take your hands in her own carefully. The girl doesn't make any sudden moves and just observes every reaction you make very closely, practically analyzing them to know what to do next. And her voice would be so calm and soothing whilst she speaks.

"It's alright, cuddlebug. No one's laying a hand on ya whilst I'm here... so let's just breathe together."

Jinx doesn't want you to feel alone whilst you're going through this and will be right there with you until the last of your tears have been shed. Afterward, she'll either cuddle you to sleep or get you something nice to eat. Either way, you're being treated like royalty by her, just because she doesn't want you to feel like she did when she still had to suffer through everything all on her own. Having you here is a blessing, and taking care of you was a way to pay you back for it.

》VI

Despite what people may think, Vi's intuition about other people has never failed her. She always feels so deeply for others. It isn't all too surprising when she is quick to notice your mood shifting drastically out of nowhere. Once the panic attacks start, she'll have enough past experiences to take care of you as well as she can. It may not always be perfect due to her inability to express her love and affection all too well in moments of panic, but she'll still pull through for you. Getting you out of danger and into a more secluded area, she'll wrap her jacket around your shoulders and try soothing your quick breathing.

"Hey, hey, hey, let's calm down, okay? I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you."

She may honestly slightly panic herself, especially as seeing you so distraught messes with her own emotions, too. Vi hates to see you suffer, and the last thing she wants is for you to potentially get hurt if you don't calm down.

Vi will most likely ask you what she can do better next time as well, since she secretly feels a bit disappointed in herself for not being able to do more for you. But she's open to learning how to be perfect for you next time, that's for sure.

[bamboo-muse]

I feel the problem is they have been loved unconditionally for a very long long long fucking time and the constant issue is not holding strong in driving home that their actions have consequences. "Boys will be boys" mentality.

You don't get a "good boy" head pat when you constantly spew that you think all other marginalized groups are subhuman.

People have tried countless times to hold the conversation for them to change or realize the fault in their hate and will turn around and scream and threat how unacceptable the left is.

And here we are.

They have voted for a monster who they know is fucked up, who they know is a monster, who will hurt so many, and have said they agree with his policies, but think the politics don't matter and believe left leaning people should still be their family and friends.

"Hey I voted for the guy who will forcibly peel off your rights regarding your body(your body my choice hurr hurr), but maybe you could be like my friend still? Or like a pet? Wait you don't want to serve me like that? Oh you don't think you should serve me? You think I'm a monster too? That's not very woke of you."

No, you get consequences, you get cut off.

You were begged and pleaded with to vote for good change, but because you weren't the center of attention -because you're the little shit trying to blow out someone else's birthday candles YOU SMASHED THE FUCKING CAKE AND ARE LICKING THE VISCERA OFF OF YOU FUCKING KNUCKLES WHILE ALSO CRYING THERES NO CAKE ANYMORE LIKE WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Fuck you and your mommy am I good boy? BULLSHIT

You knew the wrong move and fucking did it anyway because the insatiable greed to be patted on the back for fake conscience.

You chose hate.

You chose "I'm sorry if you think I hurt you" instead of "I'm sorry I understand what I did upset you and I will work to change that, what can I do to fix this?"

That is why your family, friends, and others are cutting you off.

You're hateful and unsafe.

You prioritized your greed and comfort over their lives.

AND YOU EXPECT A FUCKING "THANK YOU" HUG AND KISS?!

I hope you get what you voted for, you monster.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[aplaceinme]

“I’m just saying… there’s a reason why people say ‘three times it’s a charm’ Evan.”

“And I’m just saying I don’t want to risk it, Tommy,” Evan huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“C’mon, what could possibly happen?” Tommy insists. 

“Hmmm…let me think… oh, yeah, I got it! Given our track record, we break up for good,” Evan says exasperated. 

“That won’t happen again, Evan. We’ve talked things out. Everything has been laid out on the table. We are better than ever,” Tommy says softly, walking up to Evan and tenderly cupping his cheeks, “We are good! Nothing bad will happen, I promise.” 

Evan tries to resist, his pout really pronounced but he can’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Fine! Fine! We will go and have dinner at Miceli’s again,” Evan relents, throwing his arms up in the air. “But if things go south again, it will be all your fault, ok?” 

Tommy leans in and kisses him softly, letting the kiss linger a little. “Ok, if something happens, it will be my fault.”

Evan goes to his bedroom to change his clothes, all the while angrily muttering, “Thousand of places in L.A. to go but no! We have to go back to that place… all because the pizza is good… fuck that place.”

“Did you say something?” Tommy asks, trying not to laugh at Evan’s adorableness. 

“Nothing… except… We are not getting spumoni, Tommy!” Evan yells from his bedroom.

Head thrown back in laughter, Tommy sits down in one of the barstools to wait for him to be finished. “Fine but, again, everything will be alright, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that! But you know what else people say? Famous last words! That’s what they say,” Evan says before closing the bathroom room. 

Nodding, Tommy quietly says under his breath as if trying to convince himself, “It will be alright.” 

—

“Will you stop muttering? We are here, and everything has been ok so far, right?” 

“Yeah, so far,” Evan says stubbornly. At Tommy’s raised eyebrow, his shoulders relax. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right! Everything is fine. We are together and everything is fine.”

Tommy holds Evan’s hand across the table and intertwines their fingers. “Exactly.” 

“I’m just glad we aren’t going to the movies after this. I think they also bring bad luck to us,” Evan teases, though he also seems to be serious. 

Wanting to tease him back, Tommy says, “Actually, I saw that they are playing this movie that I wanted to check out…”

“Do not even think about it! Not tonight at least,” Evan points at Tommy seriously. 

“Alright, alright, no movies tonight,” Tommy laughs. “We will just go straight to my place then… find something else to entertain us with.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Evan says with a smirk. 

“Oh my God! I think he’s choking! Somebody help us!” 

Tommy and Evan look over at the table from where the scream came and, after sharing a small glance and a nod, they get up and run over. 

“Move over, make room, make room, we are firefighters,” Evan says loudly, reaching the patient first. 

As Evan starts doing the Heimlich maneuver, Tommy reassures the family and makes sure they give Evan room to work. 

After a couple of agonizing seconds, the man spits out the food and everyone at the restaurant releases a breath of relief and they start to clap.  

Tommy moves over and helps Evan to sit the man down as they start to assess him, asking him if he is feeling alright or if he would rather they call an ambulance. 

Once the man reassures them that he is ok and thanks Evan profusely, they start to walk back to their table. 

“Glad that turned out o-” Evan starts to say but a scream interrupts him. 

“What now?” Tommy asks. 

“Fire in the kitchen!” Someone screams. 

It takes two seconds for chaos to reign. People start to scream and run desperately, pushing tables, chairs, and everything out of their way. 

While Evan calls 911 and starts helping people out of the restaurant, Tommy runs up to the kitchen.

Grabbing a fire extinguisher, Tommy tries to put the fire out, but it’s not enough. The fire is spreading fast, so he just makes sure that no one else is inside the kitchen and then runs outside. 

“Tommy, Tommy,” Evan calls to him and hugs him as soon as he is within reach. 

“Everyone out?” Tommy asks him, quickly looking Evan over to make sure he isn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I got everyone out and the firefighters should be here any minute now.” 

“Good, good, that’s good!” Tommy says in relief, his adrenaline starting to recede. 

—

Tommy and Evan are standing a few meters away from the restaurant, watching as station 56 put the fire out. The fire spread out so much that the restaurant is absolutely destroyed, Tommy doubts the owners could salvage anything from inside. 

“What is it? I can see you looking at me,” Tommy asks, turning to look at Evan. 

Evan gestures wildly at the restaurant and looks at him incredulously. 

“What?” Tommy plays dumb. 

“What? What?” Evan yelps. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe the fact that the restaurant is literally destroyed. Third’s time a charm, my ass!” 

“Technically, I was right, Evan.” 

“Wha- How?” Evan sputters. 

“Well, nothing bad happened to us. We are ok, there hasn’t been any misunderstanding, no one has confessed anything from their past… we are ok, just like I said we will be,” Tommy reasons.

Evan shakes his head and chuckles, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…” 

“Evan…” Tommy starts but gets interrupted. 

“I love you,” Evan says. 

Tommy does a double take, not expecting that. “What?”

“I love you,” Evan repeats, shrugging his shoulders. 

“This is the first time you’re saying that,” Tommy says, bewildered. 

“I know.” 

“I… I- I…” Tommy looks around them, in disbelief that Evan could love him. 

“You don’t have to say it if you do-”

“I love you too. Of course, I love you,” Tommy tells him quickly, not wanting Evan to doubt it for even one second. 

“Yeah?” Evan beams at him. 

“Yes,” Tommy nods and leans in to kiss him, not caring about the fire, firefighters, bystanders, or anything else. 

Once they part for air, Tommy asks him, “Should we get going? They seem to have everything under control.” 

Evan nods, and they slowly start to walk to where Tommy had parked his truck, with Tommy’s arm around Evan’s waist. 

“Since no one got hurt, I feel ok with admitting that I’m kinda happy that the restaurant went up in flames,” Evan whispers as if it is a secret. 

Tommy chuckles, “Yeah, me too.” 

When they are near the truck, Tommy jokes, “So, what about that movie then?” 

Evan playfully hits him on the shoulder but laughs. “I believe someone said something about finding something to entertained us with at their place?”

“Let’s go then,” Tommy says with a smirk, walking faster towards his truck. 

[ripcupid]

Sevika is now a council member, why not make it smut 🤷🏾‍♀️

- I honestly don’t know how I feel abt this or even the ending of arcane but fuck it btw I have another sev fic i should finish soon. 🤞🏾

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” You pants, holding Sevika's shoulders as she fervently kisses your neck, pressing you against the table, her breath hot against your skin. "You have a meeting soon, what if someone walks in?"

Sevika pulls back to you, her eyes dark with desire as a mischievous smile plays on her lips. "I don't care, let them," Sevika smirks, lifting you easily onto the table and wrapping your arms around her neck before saying, "You know why? Cause I'm a fucking councillor now, I make the rules, baby.

You giggle at her boldness, unable to push aside the ache growing between your thighs at the possibility of the rest of the council walking in on you. "Please just be quick, Sev," you plead, playing with her hair as she leans in closer, her lips brushing against your jaw.

"I can't promise that, babe," she chuckles, kissing along your jaw as her hands slips under your shirt, pulling you closer.

You can't help but moan softly as she nips and sucks at your neck, moving your head to give her better access as you give in to her touch. Sevika's hands move with urgency, making quick work of your shirt and bra, tossing them to the floor before standing back to get a good look at you.

"Fuck, baby" she breathes, trailing her eyes over your exposed chest with hunger in her gaze. "Take those off for me," she demands, her eyes locked on your every move as you eagerly comply, stripping yourself of your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear. You blush at her staring, shying away slightly before meeting her eyes with a shy smile.

"Stop being shy, c'mere," she murmurs, stepping forward, her hands tracing your waist before settling on your hips. "You’re so fucking hot," she says against your lips making you giggle before pulling you into a passionate kiss, her lips moving hungrily against yours.

Sevika guides you to her designated chair around the table, pulling you onto her lap as she deepens the kiss, her hands resting on the curve of your ass. You wrap your arms around her neck, subtly grinding against her thigh as she kneads your ass, giving you a playful spank. You tuck your head into the crook of her neck, hiding the whimper that escapes your lips as she rubs over the now sensitive skin.

"Don't hide from me, baby," Sevika demands, spanking your ass again, making you gasp. You face flushes as you meet her intense gaze, feeling a surge of arousal at her hands slowly guiding you to grind against her thick thigh. Your clothed clit rubs against your panties, the damp fabric creating a delicious friction that makes you twitch in her lap.

"Oh fuck, Sev," you moan, bunching Sevika's shirt in your fists as you grind harder against her. The feeling of her strong thigh against your throbbing clit fogs your brain, forgetting about the meeting starting soon, only able to think about how badly you want to cum.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Sevika coos, brushing back your hair and holding your face in her hand. You nod, unable to form words, the only sounds escaping your lips being desperate whimpers and cries. "Yeah, you wanna cum for me?"

"Yes, please," you manage to gasp out, your hips faltering when Sevika flexes her thigh against you, increasing the pressure on your throbbing clit. Sevika's hand leaves your face, trailing her fingers down your neck to your tits, teasingly circling your hardened nipples.

You twitch as she pinches the sensitive buds, chuckling softly at your reaction. She leans back in her chair to watch you squirm in her lap, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she taunts, "My meeting starts soon and I would hate to leave you like this." You whimper in frustration, feeling the heat pooling between your legs as Sevika's finger trails even lower.

"No, please, I'm so close," you cry, humping against her thigh desperately. Sevika's grin widens as she pulls your panties up against your dripping core, reveling in the way you writhe and moan under her touch. As your orgasm builds, Sevika guides your hips to move faster, feeling you drip onto her thigh.

"Can I cum, Sevika, please? " you beg, your voice shaky with need as your head drops against her chest, feeling the tension building in your belly.

Sevika chuckles, stroking your hair gently as she whispers, "Of course, baby." With her encouragement, you finally reach the edge, tucking your head in her neck to muffle the cries of pleasure as your body trembles.

As you come down from your high, you face Sevika again, a shy smile on your lips as you give her a quick kiss before getting off her lap with shaky legs. "You need help?" Sevika jokes, watching you stumble slightly before getting up to help.

"I'm good, just need a minute," you pant using the table to steady yourself.

"Let me help," Sevika insists, picking up your clothes and carefully dressing you.

"Thank you," you whisper, once she's done, leaning up to kiss her once more before heading towards the door, "Have a good meeting,” you wink as you exit, running into another council member as you speed down the hall

[solxamber]

Take Two || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil, once lovers, are forced to reunite through work, stirring up old heartbreak and undeniable tension. Slowly, you realize love never truly left, and some stories deserve a second chance.

i promise it's a happy ending

The night air feels sharp against your skin, the chill sinking into your bones as you stand face to face with Vil in the shadow of Pomefiore’s grand staircase. His golden hair catches the faint light, glimmering like spun silk, his expression frozen in a mask of disbelief. But his eyes—his eyes betray him, shining with an ache so raw that it almost makes you collapse under the weight of your decision.

"You’re leaving me," he says, his voice flat, brittle, like glass about to shatter. "After everything."

You try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. "You deserve someone who can keep up with you, Vil. Someone who doesn’t have to fight just to be noticed, someone who—"

"Stop," he snaps, the word cutting through the night like a knife. "You think this is about keeping up? About deserving?" His voice rises, trembling with a rare fury. "You’re not a burden to me. You never were."

Tears spill over before you can stop them, warm against the chill of the night. "But I’m holding you back. You’re going to be an award-winning actor, a global icon. You’re meant for so much more, Vil. And I—I can’t be the reason you look back someday and wonder what you missed out on."

Vil’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his perfectly manicured nails digging into his palms. "You sound like a coward," he says bitterly. "Someone who doesn’t understand what it means to love. I gave you my heart, and you’re throwing it away like it’s... disposable."

You step closer, your voice trembling. "Vil, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. That’s why I’m doing this. Because I know that if I stay, I’ll be the anchor that holds you back."

He stares at you, stunned into silence, before his face crumples. It’s a sight you never thought you’d see—Vil Schoenheit, so composed, so regal, letting tears spill unchecked. "I regret it," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I regret giving my heart to someone who doesn’t want it."

Your breath hitches. You reach out, wiping his tears away with trembling fingers. "I want it. I’ll always want it."

"Then why—"

"Because I love you enough to let you go," you say, your voice cracking. You lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, tasting the salt of both your tears. It’s desperate and bittersweet, a farewell that neither of you wants but both know is inevitable.

When you pull back, his eyes are filled with an agony that mirrors your own. "I’ll pray to the stars that they align for us in another life," you whisper, stepping away even as every fiber of your being screams to stay.

Vil doesn’t follow. He stands rooted in place, watching as you disappear into the night, his tears sparkling under the starlight like diamonds.

And as you walk away, your heart breaking with every step, you can’t help but wonder if love is truly worth it when it hurts this much.

The spotlight gleams against the polished floors of the gala, chandeliers casting constellations on every surface. You stand at the edge of the room, champagne flute in hand, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Laughter ripples around you, yet your heart pounds louder than any of the polite chatter.

Across the room, he stands, bathed in a soft golden light as if the universe itself couldn’t bear to dim him. Vil Schoenheit, global phenomenon, beloved by millions. And you, just a rising singer whose every success still feels like a shadow of his own.

You force yourself to look away before your gaze lingers too long. It's been years since that night—the night you kissed him goodbye, the night you walked away so he could become everything you knew he was destined to be.

And he did. Oh, he did.

Every magazine cover, every award stage, every grand performance is proof of that. You’re happy for him. Truly. You send flowers every time he wins something new, handpicking each bouquet and handwriting every note. Congratulations, Vil. You deserve this and more. No reply ever comes, but you never stop.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That this is enough.

He spots you before you spot him. He always does.

You stand by the windows, moonlight catching on the delicate fabric of your clothes. Your laughter mingles faintly with the music, but Vil knows you well enough to hear the cracks in it. To anyone else, you’re poised, radiant—a star in your own right. But to him, you’re the person who kissed him goodbye and took his heart with you.

He straightens his posture, as if that will shield him from the wave of memories crashing over him.

The flowers you send have become a cruel routine. He receives them like clockwork—each arrangement more thoughtful than the last, each card bearing your familiar handwriting. He reads every word, his thumb brushing over the ink, before placing the cards in a drawer he’s too afraid to open.

And yet, he saves them all.

Seeing you now is both agony and relief. He knows his worth; the world adores him, reveres him. But when he sees you, every ounce of that worth feels hollow. He feels young again, vulnerable—a teenager fumbling with emotions too large for his heart to hold.

The inevitable happens: your eyes meet.

You catch Vil’s gaze across the room, and your heart stutters. You force yourself to smile, a small, polite thing, and raise your glass in acknowledgment. He nods back, his face unreadable, and you swear your knees might give out.

You’re supposed to be over this. You’re supposed to be happy.

But every time you see him, the years fall away. It’s as if you’re back at Pomefiore, back on that staircase, wiping away his tears and whispering that you loved him before breaking both your hearts.

You excuse yourself to the balcony, the cool night air biting at your skin. You lean on the railing, taking deep breaths.

"Running away again?"

His voice is smooth, poised, and far too close.

You whirl around, and there he is, the moonlight outlining him like the leading man in some grand romantic drama. He’s holding his own champagne flute, his free hand tucked neatly in his pocket. He looks flawless, as always, but his eyes betray him.

"I wasn’t running," you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

"Of course not," he replies, his tone as sharp as ever, but there’s something softer beneath it. He steps closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you. "And yet, here you are. Avoiding me again."

Your throat tightens. "I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me."

He laughs, a quiet, bitter sound. "Do you really think I have nothing to say to you after all this time?"

You blink, taken aback. "I—I didn’t know. You never—"

"Responded?" He raises an eyebrow, his expression a careful mask. "What was I supposed to say, darling? That every card, every flower, every fleeting mention of you feels like a dagger?"

The word darling slips out so naturally that you almost miss it. Almost.

"Vil, I—"

He cuts you off, his voice dropping to something softer, more vulnerable. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to be adored by millions and still feel empty because the one person I want won’t even look at me properly?"

You gape at him, words caught in your throat.

"You left me," he says, and his voice breaks just enough for you to hear it. "You left, and I—" He exhales sharply, composing himself. "I told myself I hated you for it. But the truth is, I never stopped—"

You take a step forward, closing the distance. "Stop."

His eyes widen slightly, his perfect mask slipping.

"I never stopped either," you admit, your voice trembling. "I thought I was doing the right thing. For you, for us. But all I did was break us both."

And then you unceremoniously run, like you always do.

The sound of your phone vibrating aggressively on your nightstand jolts you awake. It’s your manager, and he’s barking something about an emergency meeting, now.

Still half-asleep, you throw on the first pair of pants you can find, grab your bag, and sprint like you’re being chased by a swarm of angry bees. By the time you reach your company’s little meeting room, you’re wheezing like an old accordion.

You stumble in, gasping for air. “I’m—here—what’s the—emergency?”

And there he is.

Vil Schoenheit, sitting in your dingy little meeting room, radiating elegance and beauty like he’s some Greek god forced to endure mortal company. His perfect golden hair gleams under the flickering fluorescent lights, and his outfit probably costs more than your annual rent.

For a second, you just stand there, staring at him in disbelief. "What?" you manage to choke out.

“Ah, you’ve arrived!” your manager says, completely ignoring your obvious confusion. He’s fawning over Vil like the man just descended from heaven itself. “Aren’t we so fortunate to have Vil Schoenheit here with us today? What a privilege!”

Vil sits there with the most unimpressed expression you’ve ever seen, his gaze lazily drifting to yours. He raises an eyebrow, and the look on his face very clearly says: The universe hates me as much as it hates you.

“Why…” You gesture wildly at him like that explains anything. “Why is he here?”

Your manager claps his hands together as if this is all the most wonderful news in the world. “You’ve been given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compose and perform the opening theme for Vil’s new drama!”

“…What?”

“And Vil has graciously come all this way to provide you with inspiration!”

Vil crosses his legs, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “I didn’t exactly volunteer,” he says flatly. “I was informed this meeting was non-negotiable.”

“Graciously forced,” you mutter under your breath, earning a sharp glance from him.

Your manager continues, oblivious. “This is huge for us! For you! For the company! A chance to collaborate with Vil Schoenheit!” He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

You? You’re mentally screaming. The room’s ancient air conditioning groans louder than your brain cells, and the smell of stale coffee is threatening to choke you. This is where Vil Schoenheit is supposed to get his inspiration?

“Great,” you say weakly, flopping into a chair. “Love that for us.”

Your manager claps you on the back, way too hard. “I’ll leave you two to get started! Can’t wait to hear what you come up with!” He scurries out of the room like his life depends on it.

The door clicks shut. Silence.

You turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like he’s silently calculating how fast he can escape. “So,” you say, attempting to sound professional. “I guess we’re doing this.”

Vil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It seems we have no choice.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk tarnishing my reputation? Hardly.”

You narrow your eyes. “Wow. Thanks for that vote of confidence in my music.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t misunderstand. I’ve heard your work. It’s… fine.”

“Fine?” You bristle. “Just fine?”

“I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion,” he says smoothly, completely ignoring your indignation. “Or at least, I hope you will.”

This is going to be a long day.

The next hour is spent with Vil giving you vague, lofty descriptions of “atmosphere” and “emotion” while you scribble down ideas that may or may not be entirely out of spite.

“Think regal, but with an edge,” Vil says, leaning back in his chair like a king addressing his court. “Something that captures the drama’s tone—elegance, intrigue, power.”

“Right,” you say, scrawling Fancy Soap Commercial Vibes in your notebook.

“And it must resonate with the audience on an emotional level,” he adds, completely serious.

You nod, underlining Fancy Soap Commercial for good measure.

At one point, Vil gets up to demonstrate a movement he wants the music to evoke, his motions fluid and precise like the world’s most intimidating interpretive dancer. You’re not sure if you’re inspired or just terrified.

Finally, you throw your pen down. “I get it! Regal, edgy, emotional. Big feels. Got it.”

Vil gives you a skeptical look. “Are you certain? Because your notes don’t inspire much confidence.”

You glance down at your notebook, where you’ve doodled a tiny stick figure labeled Vil’s Vibes surrounded by stars. “…Yeah, totally got this.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “If this ends up sounding like a children’s lullaby, I’m holding you personally accountable.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Great. No pressure.”

And yet, as much as you want to throttle him for his impossible standards, there’s a part of you that doesn’t hate this. Because, well… it’s Vil. And whether you want to admit it or not, working with him is kind of incredible.

Even if he’s the most dramatic muse you’ve ever had.

The day starts with your manager shoving a revised directive into your hands: go watch Vil's shoot. Apparently, you needed more "inspiration" to compose a song fit for his upcoming drama.

Great. Because spending more time around Vil Schoenheit, global icon and your ex, is exactly what you needed to totally not lose your mind.

Still, you don’t show up empty-handed. On the way to the set, you grab an aggressively caffeinated iced espresso for yourself—because surviving the day calls for it—and, without much thought, you pick up a caramel macchiato with oat milk.

The barista hands it over, and you’re hit by a pang of nostalgia. This was Vil’s favorite back when you were teenagers, back when you’d watch the sunset with him after his rehearsals. You shake the thought away. It’s just coffee.

When you arrive, Vil’s seated on a folding chair, reading over his script like it’s sacred text. Even in the chaos of the bustling set, he looks poised, his hair perfect despite the heat of the lights.

You approach, clearing your throat. “Hey.”

He glances up. “You’re late.”

“I’m five minutes late.” You hold out the cup. “Peace offering?”

Vil takes the coffee without comment, but the moment he sips it, his movements falter. His eyes widen, ever so slightly, and you catch the flicker of emotion on his face before he masks it.

You don’t linger. “I’m going to talk to the producers.”

As you walk away, Vil stares at the cup, at the faint smiley face you’ve drawn on the lid. His chest tightens. You remembered.

He forces the thought down, folding it neatly into the drawer of unspoken feelings he’s cultivated since the day you left him. Setting the cup aside, he rises, perfectly composed. He has a scene to shoot, and Vil Schoenheit doesn’t falter.

Watching Vil perform is like watching magic. Every movement, every look, every line—he’s utterly captivating.

You sit near the monitors, jotting down notes as inspiration flows. There’s something about him—his intensity, his elegance—that fills your mind with melodies. You’re so engrossed that you barely notice the shoot wrapping up until Vil walks over, a towel slung casually around his neck.

“Are you leaving already?” he asks, his voice smooth and calm, like you hadn’t just been mentally composing an ode to his perfection.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll call an Uber.” You stand, shoving your notebook into your bag.

He frowns, clearly unimpressed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take you home.”

“Vil, it’s fine—”

“I insist,” he says sharply, already walking towards his car.

You follow, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and dread.

The car ride is quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the city lights flashing by. Vil’s driver keeps his gaze firmly on the road, giving the two of you privacy, but the atmosphere feels oddly intimate.

As you sit there, your mind drifts back to your first date. You were a nervous wreck back then, fumbling with your words, tripping over your feet. Vil, of course, had been effortlessly composed, amused by your flustered state but kind enough to guide you through it.

A small smile tugs at your lips at the memory.

“What’s so amusing?” Vil asks, his voice breaking the silence.

You glance at him, startled. He’s looking at you, his gaze sharp but curious.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, shaking your head.

He doesn’t press, but his eyes linger on you longer than usual.

When the car pulls up to your apartment, you thank Vil and step out, but as you turn to leave, you feel his hand wrap around your wrist.

“Vil?” you ask, surprised.

He blinks, as if realizing what he’s done, and lets go immediately. “Nothing,” he says, straightening. “Just… be on time tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “I will.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. But he doesn’t. He nods curtly, turning back to the car.

Inside your apartment, you close the door behind you and slide down to the floor, the tears spilling out before you can stop them.

He’s as beautiful as the day you let him go, and it hurts.

You’re so happy for him, so proud of everything he’s achieved. But God, you miss him.

Meanwhile, Vil sits in the back of the car, staring out the window as the city blurs past. His fingers brush against the empty coffee cup in his bag, the one with the faint smiley face you drew.

His heart aches, but he doesn’t let it show. Not even to himself.

The drama is an undeniable success, catapulting Vil’s already dazzling career into further stratospheric heights. But unexpectedly, the opening theme—your song—becomes the anthem of the year, a chart-topping sensation that has every talk show, magazine, and fan forum buzzing about your collaboration.

You, however, aren’t basking in the glow of success as expected. If anything, you’re moping.

Deuce notices first. “You okay? You look… weird.”

“I don’t look weird.”

“You do,” Grim adds, gnawing on his tuna sandwich. “You look like you ate bad tuna but don’t want to admit it.”

“Thank you for the visual,” you deadpan.

You sigh. Everyone else is ecstatic. Your phone is a whirlwind of congratulatory messages, your manager has been pacing like an over-caffeinated rodent, and your inbox is overflowing with offers. Yet all you can think about is the fact that the drama is over—and so are your obligations to Vil.

No more early mornings brainstorming lyrics with him. No more quiet moments sipping coffee during breaks. No more stolen glances when you thought he wasn’t looking (he always was).

It’s ridiculous, really. You’re thriving. Your career is skyrocketing. You should be ecstatic.

Instead, you feel like you’re bracing for an emotional wrecking ball.

Vil, on the other hand, is furious. Not at the drama’s success, of course—he’s a consummate professional, and his performance has been widely praised. No, Vil is furious because he can’t escape you.

He tried. Oh, how he tried. He kept himself busy with interviews, photoshoots, and premieres, meticulously avoiding the thought of you. But then the making-of video was released.

There you were, sitting beside him, coffee cup in hand, throwing out ideas with that little spark in your eyes. The fans lapped it up, the media ran with it, and now every outlet wanted the two of you together for joint interviews.

Vil could not imagine a worse fate.

The first interview is scheduled for 10 a.m., and you arrive early, clutching your notes like a lifeline.

Vil is already there, of course. He sits with perfect posture, his gaze steely as he scrolls through his phone. When he notices you, his lips press into a thin line.

“Good morning,” you venture hesitantly.

“Is it?” he replies coolly, without looking up.

Ouch.

The producer, blissfully unaware of the tension, claps his hands together as he enters the room. “Ah, our power duo! Ready to make magic?”

You exchange a strained glance with Vil. He raises a single brow, clearly unimpressed.

The interview begins, and for the most part, it’s harmless—questions about the creative process, the drama’s success, and future projects.

Then the interviewer smirks, leaning forward. “You two have such wonderful chemistry. Were you always this in sync, or did it take time to build that dynamic?”

Vil’s jaw tightens. You blink, feeling the weight of his stare.

“Well,” you start, “we worked really hard to make the song fit the tone of the drama. It’s all about teamwork.”

“Hmm, teamwork,” Vil echoes, his tone dangerously smooth. “Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

The interviewer beams, oblivious to the storm brewing. “Fans are dying to know—any plans for another collaboration?”

“Who knows?” Vil says, his smile razor-sharp. “Perhaps fate will decide.”

By the time the interview ends, you’re emotionally drained. Vil, of course, looks as pristine as ever.

“Thanks for being civil,” you mutter as you both head to the parking lot.

“Civil?” Vil’s laugh is devoid of humor. “Darling, if that’s your standard for civility, I fear you’ve been spending too much time with amateurs.”

You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t ask for this either, you know. You think it’s easy for me to—”

You stop yourself, biting your tongue. You’re not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still affects you.

Vil arches a brow, waiting. When you say nothing, he smirks. “Thought so.”

Later that night, as you scroll through social media, you stumble upon a clip from the interview. It’s nothing scandalous—just a moment where you and Vil exchange a glance and laugh at a question. But the comments are merciless.

> “These two have HISTORY, I can feel it through the screen!” >“Vil looked like he wanted to stab and kiss them at the same time, and honestly, relatable.” >“Petition for them to star in a romantic drama together??”

You groan, throwing your phone onto the couch.

Somewhere across town, Vil is scrolling through the same comments, his expression unreadable. He closes the app with a sigh, but not before saving the clip to his private gallery.

He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s masochism. Maybe it’s hope. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because a part of him isn’t ready to let you go.

The day of the photoshoot arrives, and you’re running on a dangerous combination of nerves, caffeine, and denial. Standing next to Vil for hours under flashing cameras, forced to feign effortless chemistry, feels like a ticking time bomb.

Vil, of course, looks unbothered—poised and perfect as ever, his every movement calculated for maximum elegance. Meanwhile, you’re sweating like a guilty criminal.

“Relax,” Vil murmurs as he adjusts his jacket between shots. “Your unease is practically a stench.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you grumble.

The shoot goes on without a hitch, until—of course—it doesn’t.

It happens in the middle of a particularly dramatic pose. Vil, perched precariously on a raised platform in heels, steps down just as an intern accidentally knocks over a loose prop. It lands with a sharp crack, and Vil, who’s clearly caught off guard, stumbles and falls.

A collective gasp ripples through the room.

“Are you okay?” someone yelps, rushing toward him.

“Don’t touch me,” Vil snaps, voice sharp as glass. He sits up with a wince, cradling his ankle.

You’ve been keeping your distance the entire shoot, trying to maintain your professional boundary. But the second you see Vil hurt, that self-imposed wall shatters.

“Vil!” you shout, practically tripping over cables as you rush to his side.

He looks up, his expression guarded. For a moment, you hesitate, half-expecting him to snap at you too. But instead, he simply nods, a subtle permission that shocks the entire production team into silence.

With a surprising amount of strength born from sheer adrenaline, you lift Vil into your arms, bridal style.

Someone from production stammers, “We can call for—”

“I’ve got him,” you cut them off, your tone firmer than you expected.

Vil doesn’t protest. He just loops an arm around your neck, tilting his head slightly as though he’s resigned to being carried like royalty. You can feel the weight of everyone’s stares as you carry him out of the studio, whispers trailing behind you like gossip at a high school cafeteria.

The walk to the medic feels like an eternity.

“You’re heavier than you look,” you mutter, trying to distract yourself from the way his perfume is overwhelming your senses.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Vil replies, his voice still sharp but lacking its usual venom.

When you finally reach the medic, you set him down gently, your arms trembling from the effort.

“You can leave,” Vil says as the medic begins their examination.

You nod, turning to go—but your feet refuse to move. Instead, you end up awkwardly sitting on a nearby chair, your hands clasped tightly in your lap.

You tell yourself it’s just to make sure he’s okay. That you’ll leave once the medic gives the all-clear.

Vil doesn’t say anything about your lingering presence. He keeps his eyes closed, his usual pristine mask slipping for just a moment as he exhales slowly.

When the medic finishes and declares him fit to leave, you finally stand. “Well, I should—”

“Thank you,” Vil says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze. For a moment, all you can do is nod before hurrying out of the room, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

Back in your dressing room, you sink into a chair and bury your face in your hands.

“What is wrong with me?” you groan.

Meanwhile, back in the medic’s office, Vil sits in contemplative silence, the ghost of your touch lingering like a memory he can’t shake.

You’re holding Vil’s phone like it’s made of glass, glaring at Rook’s number on your own screen.

“You sure I can’t just leave it at the studio?” you ask for the third time.

“Non, non, mon ami!” Rook’s dramatic voice practically vibrates through your speaker. “Vil has a most pressing engagement this evening, and the phone is vital to his work. You’re already such a dear for delivering it!”

“Couldn’t you do it?”

“Alas, I have an engagement myself. A critical affair, truly,” Rook sighs, his tone more playful than apologetic. “I’ve sent you his address. Bon courage!”

Before you can protest, the line goes dead, leaving you staring at the apartment address like it’s an execution order.

You’re in the car, grumbling to yourself as you mentally rehearse what you’ll say.

Here’s your phone. Bye.

Short. Simple. No emotional mines to step on.

But then you accidentally touch the screen, and his phone lights up.

And there it is. The lock screen.

It’s a selfie of the two of you from years ago, taken on some lazy afternoon. You’re both laughing, your faces smushed together awkwardly. You remember the moment vividly—Vil had just cracked a rare joke, one so unexpected it had you crying with laughter.

And now here it is, preserved like some cruel reminder of what you had.

Your stomach twists.

“Oh no,” you mutter.

The driver glances at you in the rearview mirror, concerned.

You’re ugly sniffling by the time you pull yourself together, the poor driver tactfully pretending not to notice. “Sorry,” you choke out. “Allergies.”

He nods slowly, clearly not buying it.

When you finally arrive at Vil’s penthouse—a sleek, modern building that screams successful celebrity—you take a deep breath and ring the doorbell.

Vil answers the door himself, wearing a loose, elegant cardigan and lounge pants that still manage to look couture. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you.

“You left this,” you blurt, shoving the phone into his hands.

He takes it, his gaze lingering on your face. “Were you crying?”

“No,” you lie, unable to meet his eyes.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

“I’m fine—”

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he says, his tone soft but firm.

Despite your better judgment, you step inside.

The interior hits you like a brick wall of memories.

The layout is different, but the details are achingly familiar. The same muted color scheme you’d picked out together. The same arrangement of throw pillows on the couch—even the same colors.

Your eyes dart to the bookshelf, spotting a framed photo of the two of you tucked discreetly among the décor.

It’s too much.

“You did this on purpose,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Vil’s gaze softens. “I didn’t want to forget."

Before you can respond, he goes to the kitchen to get something to drink, leaving you to drown in memories.

You’re sitting on Vil’s pristine couch, sipping tea that you can’t even taste. He’s seated across from you, the distance between you both palpable, like a chasm you’re too afraid to cross.

But Vil doesn’t wait this time. He doesn’t dance around the words.

“Why?” he asks, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence.

“Why what?” you whisper, even though you know exactly what he means.

“Why did you leave?” he snaps, the composure he always clings to starting to crack. “Why did you take my heart—my trust—and then shatter it into a million pieces? Do you have any idea what you did to me?”

You flinch, tears already pooling in your eyes. “I—I thought—”

“No,” Vil interrupts, standing abruptly. His hands tremble as he gestures, his voice rising. “You didn’t think. If you had, you would’ve seen how much I loved you, how much I—” He cuts himself off, his chest heaving.

You’re crying now, hands gripping your knees so tightly they hurt. “I didn’t want to hold you back, Vil. You had so much ahead of you, so much to achieve—”

“And you thought you were the thing holding me back?” he yells, his voice breaking. “You thought I would’ve been better off without you?!”

You nod miserably, choking on a sob. “I wanted you to thrive! I didn’t want to be the thing that kept you from reaching your dreams!”

Vil laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and laced with pain. “And you did just that. You leaving—you leaving—was the only thing that’s held me back. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. You haunt my dreams, my every waking moment. And I hate it. I hate you for it. So tell me—”

He drops to his knees in front of you, his face inches from yours as his voice cracks. “Tell me you hate me. Tell me you don’t love me anymore, so I can move on. Please, I’m begging you.”

You’re sobbing now, shaking your head frantically. “I can’t. I—I don’t hate you. I never stopped loving you. I left because I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I was so, so stupid—”

“Yes, you were,” Vil cuts in, tears streaming down his face. “So stupid. And so cruel.”

His sobs are raw, unrestrained, and they tear at your heart. You cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away his tears even as more fall. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave again. I’ll stay. Forever, if you’ll let me.”

Vil closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. When he opens them again, his voice is barely audible. “Don’t promise me that unless you mean it.”

“I mean it,” you say, your voice steady despite your tears. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay.”

Vil exhales shakily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face in your shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispers, and for the first time in years, the weight between you begins to lift.

You’ve barely put the mop down when Vil calls from the living room.

“Hurry up with the tea,” he says without even looking up from his script. “And don’t forget to fold the laundry after this. Properly, please—last time you folded one of my scarves into an actual triangle. Who does that?”

You mutter a half-hearted "Yes, your majesty," and shuffle toward the kitchen. You’re halfway there when Rook bursts in through the front door, a bouquet in hand and stars practically bursting from his eyes.

“Ah, l’amour! C’est magnifique!” Rook declares, startling you so badly you almost drop the tea tray.

Vil raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the dramatics. “Rook, must you barge in unannounced?”

“Mais oui!” Rook exclaims, twirling dramatically. “How could I not visit when my dear friends have rekindled their eternal flame of passion? Look at you two! You, bossing them around, and them—obediently obeying every word like a loyal partner. True love has won!”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the grin spreading across your face. Vil, however, looks less charmed. “They’re making up for years of terrible life decisions, Rook,” he says, deadpan.

“Oh, of course,” Rook says, his grin never faltering. “But love is in the air, and I, your humble admirer, could not be happier. Do not deny it—my heart soars!”

You and Vil exchange a look, both exasperated and oddly amused.

“Fine,” Vil says with a sigh. “If it makes you happy, Rook, then yes. True love has won. Now, will you let me enjoy my tea in peace?”

Rook gasps as though he’s been given the greatest gift of all time and promptly sits down, refusing to leave.

When you and Vil finally announce your relationship, the internet goes into an immediate frenzy.

The official post is simple: a photo of the two of you holding hands, captioned, "It’s official."

But the comments?

>"Wow, groundbreaking news. I couldn’t tell from the way Vil stared at them like they invented oxygen." >"You’re telling me they weren’t already dating? I thought this was public knowledge." >"The tension between these two could’ve powered the whole continent. About time." >"Wasn’t their last interview basically a rom-com in disguise?" >"Not even surprised. I’m more shocked it took this long."

Vil reads through the comments with a scoff. “Captain Obvious seems to be having their moment in the spotlight.”

You laugh, peeking at his phone. “I mean, they’re not wrong. We weren’t exactly subtle.”

Vil hums, a small smile tugging at his lips. “At least they approve. For now."

It’s late by the time you both get home, the quiet hum of the city fading behind you as Vil unlocks the door. The soft glow of the apartment feels comforting, like the kind of peace you didn’t know you needed until now.

You both kick off your shoes, and Vil immediately starts fussing with his scarf. You grab it before he can hang it up, putting it neatly on the rack.

As you settle on the couch, Vil joins you, resting his head lightly on your shoulder. For a moment, neither of you speaks, just enjoying the stillness.

“Do you ever wonder why we made it so complicated?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence.

Vil chuckles softly. “Often. But then again…” He tilts his head to look up at you, his violet eyes warm and full of something you can only describe as home. “Perhaps we wouldn’t have appreciated it as much if it had been easy.”

You hum in agreement, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re probably right. But still…”

Vil smirks, pulling you closer. “No more unnecessary complications. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you whisper, letting yourself finally, fully relax.

Masterlist

[questionablehuman444]

THANK YOU. Someone put my thoughts into the correct words, and it makes me thoroughly happy.

Dick definitely has eldest daughter syndrome, but Tim was "really mature for his age"

(more below cut)

Okay, Dick holds the weight of the world on his shoulders as the oldest. He's the one everybody goes to when they're having problems with Bruce. He's the "trusted adult". He's the guy who has the ability to get people to open up, and let him help them. It weighs on him a lot as a result.

Dick feels that if he isn't constantly there for people, then he's failing, not only as a hero but as a brother and a friend. (I could also talk about how he leans into the himbo persona because his self esteem is a tripping hazard in hell, but that's for another time)

Then, you look at Tim. He's self sufficient, he's easy, and he's smart. Tim has gifted child syndrome. People think that since he's more mature, he can handle more. So they start treating him like an adult and whenever it's convenient, they double back to treat him like a kid.

So often, the adults in his life were emotionally inept, and their love for him was so often conditional. He had to grow up quick because nobody else wanted to.

Something I think about is how, despite Dick and Tim having similar experiences and bearing the weight of the world, they don't want to hurt each other more. Dick doesn't want to fuel Tim's gifted kid syndrome and Tim doesn't wanna fuel Dick's eldest daughter syndrome. They can't talk to each other because they're aware of the other person's situation, and don't want to continue fueling the other person's problems when, in reality, it would probably be the best course of action for the two of them.

They're so afraid of making the other's problems worse by talking, that they're don't realize that they're actually just harming the both of them. They fail to realize that they're stripping away the only other person who could fully understand in a way beyond just comprehending the words and feelings being told, the only other person who knows the family on a personal level and can empathize from a place of mutual feelings. They taking away the one person who *Gets It* fully and completely.

Anyway, sorry for rambling, I really like talking about things like this. Thanks for reading if you made it this far lol. I had a lot of fun writing all this.

Dick is for the eldest sibling while Tim is for the parentified children and I think that's the most important difference between them

[dae-chwiita]

A Little Too Late, A Little Too Drunk

Pairing : San X reader

Summary : You keep ignoring San and his drunk self can't handle it.

TW : drunk San, jealousy, kind of corny ? idk fluff fluff fluff

_________________

The room buzzed with laughter, music, and the faint clink of glasses, noises that matched your troubled emotions. The party was in full swing, yet it felt as though you were outside looking in—especially when your gaze inevitably found its way to San.

There he was, all sharp lines and soft smiles, his laughter booming over the music as he chatted with the girl you’d seen with the group before. She was beautiful, confident, and far too comfortable with him for your liking. It wasn't the first time you saw her; always hanging out with the guys recently.

You turned away quickly, heart twisting. It wasn’t as though you had any claim over him—San didn’t know about the feelings that had grown for almost a year now, feelings that had steadily grown into an ache every time he smiled at someone prettier who wasn’t you.

It was easier to ignore him, to let the sting of jealousy numb you, rather than risk exposing your vulnerability. That burning jealousy made it impossible to even look his way, you couldn't let your overflowing feelings see the light of day. If he found out, your friendship would be gone ! How could San want someone like you, when he could have someone like her ?

“Hey, come on.” Wooyoung nudged your shoulder, pulling you back to the moment. “You’ve been in your head all night. Let’s grab a drink.”

“Sure,” you murmured, looking at your empty cup, hoping the distraction would help. But even as you followed Wooyoung toward the makeshift bar, your eyes betrayed you, darting once again to San.

He was still with her, but something was off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he kept glancing around, searching for… something.

---

San was restless.

He should’ve been enjoying himself—Yujin was funny, and she’d been a friend for years. But no matter how hard he tried to engage in the conversation, his mind kept drifting. Where were you?

You’d been distant all evening, barely sparing him a glance. Every attempt he made to catch your attention was met with a polite, detached smile or a quick excuse to leave.

It was driving him mad.

San’s grip tightened around his drink as Yujin’s laugh pulled him back to reality. She was saying something, her voice soft, but he didn’t register a word. All he could think about was the way you had been avoiding him.

He wanted to call out to you, but you were with Wooyoung again, laughing loudly at something he’d said. San’s chest tightened, an unfamiliar burn spreading through him.

His thoughts spiraled as Yujin leaned closer, resting a hand on his arm. “San,” she purred, her voice cutting through the haze, “you’re so distracted. Is it me, or is there something else on your mind?”

Before he could respond, you passed by, your laughter with Wooyoung ringing clear. San froze, his gaze snapping to you. Without thinking, he stepped forward.

“Hey, wait—”

Wooyoung turned, flashing him a grin. “What’s up, San?”

San barely glanced at him, his blurry eyes locked on you. “Can I talk to—”

“She’s busy,” Wooyoung cut in, his tone light but firm. He threw you a quick glance, silently asking if you wanted to stay.

You didn’t.

“I’ll catch you later,” you muttered, brushing past San without meeting his eyes.

“Wait.”

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist before you could escape. Your pulse leaped beneath his touch, but you still refused to look at him, quickly glancing at Yujin and her pouting, holding San's arm.

“What’s going on?” San asked, his voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. “Why are you avoiding me?”

The question hung heavy in the air, but before you could answer, Yujin’s voice rang out. “San! You aren't even listening to me...”

You stiffened, the sound slicing through whatever resolve you’d had left.

“Let go,” you said, your voice cold as you tugged your arm free. “Go back to her.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, but Wooyoung did. He hesitated, torn between following you and staying behind to let San step in.

“Wooyoung, don’t—”

San’s voice cracked, and when Wooyoung turned back, he saw something raw in his friend’s expression.

“Let me go after her, please.”

---

You were outside before you realized it, the cool night air biting at your skin. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried to push down the wave of anger and hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. She was touching his arm again, holding it like it was her's. Like he was her's.

Why did it have to hurt this much?

“Wait!”

San’s voice shattered your thoughts, and you turned just in time to see him stumble toward you, his steps unsteady.

“Go back inside, San,” you said sharply.

“No.” His voice was firm despite the slur in his words. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

You scoffed, turning away. “You’re drunk. This isn’t the time.”

“I don’t care.”

Suddenly, he was in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as he forced you to face him. His eyes, glassy with alcohol, bore into yours.

“Why are you ignoring me?” he demanded. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything!” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “That’s the problem, San. You didn’t do anything, and you don’t even see...”

“See what?”

You hesitated, the weight of your feelings pressing down on you, looking down.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, trying to pull away. “Just let it go.”

“No.” His grip tightened, his voice breaking. “It matters to me. You matter to me.” He took a deep breathing, tilting his head. “Can you at least look at me...please.”

Your heart lurched as you looked up, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “You don’t get it, San. You’re always with her, laughing and smiling like she’s the only person in the world. And I—”

Your voice cracked, and you looked away.

“And you what?” he whispered, his tone softening.

“And I can’t stand it,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then San let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding down to your wrists.

“You’re jealous,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You think I care about Yujin like that?”

“Don’t you?”

“No!” The force of his answer startled you, and you looked up to find him staring at you with an intensity that stole your breath.

“It’s you,” he said hoarsely, his hands shaking while holding your wrists. “It’s always been you.”

Your mind reeled, the confession sinking in.

“But—”

“No buts,” he cut in, his voice trembling. “I’ve been losing my mind all night because you wouldn’t even look at me. You have no idea how much I—”

He broke off, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I’m in love with you.”

The words hung between you, heavy and unshakable.

“‘You… what?’” you repeated, staring at him like he’d just sprouted a second head.

“I said,” San slurred, his voice louder now, “I’m in love with you. And I’ve been losing my mind all night because you’ve been ignoring me! It’s driving me CRAZY!”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the outburst. “San, you’re drunk—”

“Drunk, yes,” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “But I’m also telling the truth! Do you have any idea how many times I tried to talk to you tonight?!”

“San—”

“Seven!” he exclaimed, as he held up what looked like five fingers, his other hand still busy holding you. “Seven times! And every single time, you just… just walked away like I didn’t exist!”

Despite yourself, you snorted. “I didn’t walk away seven times.”

“Yes, you did!” He leaned closer, his expression equal parts pitiful and desperate. “And it hurt. It hurt.”

“Oh, come on—”

“No, I’m serious!” He pointed at his chest, his finger poking himself a little harder than intended. “Right here. It hurt right here. Every time you ignored me, I thought, ‘Wow. I must’ve done something terrible. Maybe I insulted her by accident?’ But no, you just hate me now for no reason!”

“I don’t hate you,” you muttered, fidgeting with your fingers.

“You sure?” His tone was suspicious, but there was an undeniable softness in his eyes as he stared at you. “Because it really felt like you hated me. Especially when you were laughing with Wooyoung. Do you like him more than me now? Is that what this is about? Is he funnier than me? More handsome? Does he have better hair?”

“San!” you interrupted, laughing despite yourself. “What are you even talking about?”

“I don’t know!” he admitted dramatically, throwing his hands in the air, finally letting go of your arm. “I’ve been spiraling all night, okay? I mean, you’re over there, looking gorgeous, and I’m stuck with Yujin... again.” He sighs dramatically. “Do you know how many times she’s tried to touch my arm tonight? Ten!”

“Ten times?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his tone heavy with indignation. “It’s like she thinks I’m some kind of… of armrest or something. And the whole time, all I wanted to do was talk to you. But nooooo, you’re busy ignoring me, laughing with Wooyoung, and looking way too good for my sanity!”

You bit back a smile, your irritation melting as you watched him rant. His cheeks were flushed, his words a little too loud, but there was a raw honesty in his drunken rambling that made your heart ache.

“San,” you said softly, cutting him off before he could spiral further.

“What?” he asked, his wide, pleading eyes meeting yours.

“I wasn’t ignoring you because I hate you. Or because of Wooyoung.”

“Then why?” His voice cracked slightly, and you could see the desperation in every inch of him.

You hesitated, but the way he was looking at you—with so much vulnerability—made it impossible to hold back.

“Because I was jealous, okay?” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing you with her all night… it made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I couldn’t compare.”

San stared at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t quite process your words.

Then, with absolutely zero grace, he blurted out, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Excuse me?” you said, your eyes narrowing.

“You’re jealous of Yujin?!” he exclaimed, looking genuinely baffled. “She’s not even my type!”

“Oh, really? And what is your type?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He blinked at you, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “You!”

Your mouth fell open, but before you could respond, he kept going, his words tumbling out in a drunken rush.

“You’re my type, okay? You’re the type. The only type. Like, if someone said, ‘Hey, San, describe your dream person!’ I’d just say your name and that would be it! So the fact that you think I care about Yujin when you’re literally right here is just… just—ugh! It’s stupid!”

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

“See?!” he said, throwing his hands up again. “Now you’re ignoring me again! I've even told you the L word and you keep ignoring me!”

“I’m not ignoring you!” you said, trying not to laugh, feeling your cheeks about to burst in flammes.

“You kind of are...” he muttered, pouting slightly.

“San.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed his face and kissed him, cutting off whatever nonsense he was about to say next.

For a moment, he froze, his brain clearly struggling to catch up. Then he melted into the kiss, his shaking hands finding their way to your waist as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were wide, and his lips were parted in surprise.

“Does that clear things up?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded slowly, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it does.”

“Good.” You started to turn away, embarrassed by what you've just done, but he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“Wait. Just to be clear, are you my girlfriend now? Or do I have to ask officially tomorrow when I’m sober?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. “We’ll see how you handle your hangover first.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

[whoreforsexymen]

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

[tthoroughfare]

crush (part 2) // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: i owe you a black eye and two kisses. tell me when you wanna come and get 'em. abby finally confronts her feelings in the spur of the moment, then gets scared and runs away. it all works out in the end, though.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: nsfw. nothing too crazy just some yearny sesbian lex using hands. light injury description and abby being a horrible communicator

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.9k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

i hope you enjoy the second part! i'm so down to write more of this so lmk if anyone wants it

abby keeps it all to herself. she enjoys having you as a friend, and reasons that it’s better not to mess it all up. just because you like her whole entire gender doesn’t mean you like her. plus, she’s not even sure about what she’s feeling. figures that if she actually wasn’t straight, she’d surely have already known by now. but then again, she didn’t know you back then. didn’t feel what she feels around you.

then, one night, you’ve been around at hers, drinking and watching a movie with manny. she’d accidentally overindulged, possibly (definitely) out of nerves. you’d had to drag the chair and beanbag over in front of the TV, you and abby both piling onto the beanbag, chair not big enough to hold the two of you.

there was still barely enough room, and you were pressed up against her. at first, you were awkwardly perched, body rigid; but then, as the film went on and you had a little more to drink, you found yourself sinking into the seat, further into her.

by the end of it, your head is comfortably on her shoulder, laughing and chatting freely — she can smell your hair, feel the heat of your body against her, and she truly thinks she might combust.

once it’s gotten late, you say you’d better be heading back to your own place. abby tipsily insists on walking you back, even though it’s really not necessary. like, at all.

you jovially chat and giggle on the way back through the stadium, and all you can remember thinking is how glad you are that you met her. how rare it is for you to know someone who you feel so connected to, who everything feels so easy with almost instantaneously.

when you get to your door, she lingers around, keeping the conversation going even after you say goodnight — like she wants something from you, wants to say something but can’t. there’s a moment where it drops quiet, and she’s just looking at you. studying your face, maintaining eye contact for probably longer than she ever has. that’s when you realize she’s automatically drifted closer.

and then, liquid courage coursing through her veins and affirmed by you leaning on her earlier, she kisses you.

it’s quick, and you don’t return it. not because you don’t want to, but out of pure shock — never in a million years would you have seen it coming. you’d fully shelved your crush on her, under the impression it was never going to happen.

before you have a real chance to react, she pulls back, cheeks tinged red.

you speak at the same time: her blurting out, "sorry, fuck"; you simply shaking your head a little, stuttering, “a-abby, i…”

a beat passes, you slightly open-mouthed, abby’s hands anxiously fiddling with themselves at her sides. immediately, she’s sober. “fuck, i-i’m sorry. that was stupid.”

“no, abby, it’s just—“ before you can finish your sentence, she mutters something inaudible and turns, beginning to stride off down the hall, feeling like a fucking idiot. of course you didn’t like her, and she’d just drunkenly ruined it all for nothing.

your call of her name, followed by a, ‘wait!’ falls on deaf ears, and she turns the corner, gone. you’re left stunned, frozen outside your door, trying to process what just happened.

you want to go after her, have her allow you to explain yourself, but decide against it. you don’t know if she really meant it, you don’t know what her reasons were for running off; you don’t know what the fuck to do. so, despite every ounce of yourself begging you not to, you simply go inside and try your best to sleep. you can’t, though, mind whirring for hours on end until you finally pass out.

the next morning, you pray you run into her. usually, you always saw her at some point, but it was like she was avoiding everywhere you might be.

you see manny in the canteen later in the day, catching up to him and asking him where she is; he just shrugs, saying that she’d picked up an extra assignment and headed out that morning. might not be back for a day or two.

you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms. you knew it was on purpose. all over a kiss. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he gives you a funny look. “you two have a fight or something? she was… quiet when she came back.”

rolling your eyes, you shake your head after a moment. basically the opposite. “no… no, we didn’t.”

“right.” he quirks an eyebrow slightly, taking a breath. “you want me to talk to her when i see her?”

you shake your head vehemently, furrowing your brow. “nah, nah, don’t. just… let me know when she gets back, please?”

he nods once, tapping the side of your arm. “you got it.”

you utter out a thanks, and with that you’re off.

you don’t want to be mad at her, but you are. you don’t know why she’s running away from you, quite literally putting her life on the line just so she doesn’t have to face you. what makes it so much worse is she didn’t even give you a chance. if she’d have just heard you out instead of storming off, there wouldn’t even be an issue in the first place.

the next morning arrives, and abby’s still not back. the whole day, you fight the urge to walk over to her apartment and knock on the door every five minutes. you know manny said a day or two, but you can’t help but anxiously await her return the moment it’s plausible.

you try to keep yourself busy with work, but all your mind does is wander back to her. thinking about what she’s doing, if she’s okay, what you’re going to say to her when she gets back. you replay the kiss over and over in your head, scrutinizing every millisecond of it. what if the reason she freaked out was that she only did it because she was drunk, immediately realized she regretted it, and that’s why she’s avoiding you?

her absence just gives you too much time to worry, conjure up every worst case scenario. by the end of it, you’re essentially convinced she doesn’t like you, that it was a mistake, and now your friendship will never be the same.

finally, around noon the day after, manny collars you in the hallway and lets you know abby’s back. you let out a half relieved, half nervous sigh, nodding and thanking him. you can’t go talk to her right away — you’re too swamped with work, on your way back from the shortest lunch break known to man, but you know the second you’ve called it a day, you’re finding her.

it’s not until almost eight that you finally get to a place where you can break off, leaning back in your chair and running your hands over your face. you pack a few items away hurriedly, heart beating in your chest as you make your way over to abby’s.

it’s not her who answers the door, though — it’s manny. you blow air out of your nose at the fact you’re seeing more of him than her at this point.

“where is she?” you question gently, as if he doesn’t already know what you want.

the corners of his mouth quirk. “guess.”

“library?”

he clicks his tongue in affirmation, and you roll your eyes fondly before telling him you’ll see him later, turning to make your way down there.

standing outside the door, you realize how nervous you are. you’ve wanted nothing more than to see abby since it happened, but now the moment’s here you can’t help but feel hesitant about all the ways the conversation could go.

after a beat of psyching yourself up, you gingerly crack the door open, spotting her on the ottoman before gently wrapping your knuckles as you peer in. “knock, knock.”

she looks up, an unreadable expression on her face.

“can i come in?”

she pauses, sitting up properly and placing her book to the side. “uh… sure.”

you smile gratefully, picking your way in and softly closing the door behind you. you make your way over, taking a seat next to her with your hands folded in your lap, avoiding eye contact. “so…”

you can see her fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt in your peripheral vision. “so…?”

looking up at her, you go to say your rehearsed spiel, then the words get caught in your throat when you notice the injuries littering her face. a couple of gashes are set into her forehead and chin, purple blossoming over her cheekbone.

“what the hell have you done to your face?” it comes out a little more frustrated than the caring tone you intend, but you are frustrated. if she’d have stayed and listened, she wouldn’t have been avoiding you, and in turn wouldn’t have gone off and gotten herself hurt. you pivot your body to face her side, knee bending to rest your left leg sideways.

“it’s not anything.”

you tut, unable to help yourself from reaching out and running your thumb tenderly over the bruising. she pulls away from your touch slightly, to which you shoot her a look. “worse than i ever get.”

“you’re sheltered.”

she says it matter-of-fact, and you know it’s true. you’ve always had it better than her, better than most, never really being required to go into the field. both your parents are still alive, a rarity nowadays, both academics. the last time you were in real danger was simply when you were being moved into the base, going from safe point A to safe point B. 

still, it stings a little.

“yeowch,” you respond as you allow your hand to drop from her skin, only half joking. “there’s no need to be mean, abby.”

she rolls her eyes, still keeping her sight trained firmly ahead. “i’m not being…” she trails off, shaking her head a little and looking down at her hands. she moves to lean forward, forearms resting on her knees.

a pause passes that feels like an eternity, until you finally will yourself to speak. your voice is soft, low. “why did you run off on me the other night?”

she gnaws at her lip, not saying anything for a moment. “can we just forget about that? it was…”

“a mistake, i know. you were… you’d had a few drinks. i know you didn’t mean anything by it.” you finish her sentence for her, and she sighs and shakes her head in annoyance at how wrong you have it.

she swallows thickly in defeat, urging the words to come. she might as well tell you; she’s already basically fucked everything up. what does she have to lose?

“that’s… not it.” her words come out quiet, and she looks at you for the first time since you walked in, hands wringing in her lap.

you automatically shuffle a tiny bit closer, her leg warm against yours. “then what is it?”

“i didn’t… it wasn’t… because i was drunk. it was because i wanted to.” she takes a deep breath, shoulders sinking. “and then… you reacted all… i don’t know. anyway… you don’t see me like that. can we just move on?”

you look at her, mouth opening and closing a little. your brow furrows. “oh my god. are you serious?”

“what?” she replies, a little defensively.

“i reacted like that because i was fucking shocked. as far as i was aware, you didn’t even like girls, never mind me, and then you just kissed me out of nowhere. i didn’t know how to react. and then, you didn’t even give me chance to say anything and just walked off, and then i don’t see you for two days,” you blurt out, floodgates opened.

it’s her turn to be speechless again, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “so… w-what are you saying?”

you don’t even bother to answer, knowing you can show her tenfold better than you can tell. you pull her up to you, hand resting on her jaw, pressing your lips to hers with a gentle urgency. she freezes for a split second before kissing back, one hand leaning on the ottoman behind you, the other coming up to cup your cheek.

you shift further in subconsciously, right leg going over one of hers and your free arm wrapping around her neck.

“jesus christ, abby,” you mumble against her lips between adoring smooches, “i can’t believe you.”

she breathes out a chuckle. “sorry.”

you have sex for the first time that night. you invite her to stay over, not even having those expectations. you just want to be with her, want to feel close to her, wake up side by side.

but then it drops late, and your lights are on low, having spent the evening conversing on your bed with the tv droning in the background. you’re both on your sides facing each other, propped up by an elbow. and you look so pretty in the dim yellow light, she can’t help herself from leaning in and kissing you, dripping with want.

you end up on top of her, fingertips stroking over either side of her face, hers pressing into your hips. all you can hear is your own pulse banging in your head, the labored, rapid breaths the two of you let out into each other’s mouths.

you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything this much. you can feel yourself soaking your underwear, and nothing’s even happened.

abby swallows thickly, pulling back for a moment, knowing where this is all going. “you know i’ve never…” she trails off, implicating the last few words, voice husked with arousal.

you pause to look at her, lidded eyes dragging over her face, a slightly amused smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i know,” you respond, leaning back in to mouth at the corner of hers, before kissing down to her jaw. you continue to speak against her skin, voice low. “you’ll figure it out.”

and she sure does.

you make love to each other. it’s all slow, and testing, but wanting and desperate. a lot of abby asking every two minutes if what she’s doing feels good, you guiding her and showing her how you like it. when you first flip her on top of you, tenderly taking her hair out from its braid and running your fingers through it, leading her hand under your waistband and showing her how wet you’ve gotten for her, she truly doesn’t know how the fuck she was ever, ever uncertain about her feelings.

you take your shirt off, baring yourself to her, then hers, needing to feel your skin flush against one another. her hands automatically move to make quick work of the lower half of your clothing, gaining confidence. and then you’re naked, spread out underneath her, all flushed and open mouthed, hips shifting into hers desperately — and it’s just like something takes over her.

she kisses over your chest languidly, exploring, needing to taste your skin. you gently take her wrist, moving her hand back between your legs, and your head falls back when she runs a finger through your folds. it’s a little clumsy, a little anxious, but abby’s a quick learner. she finds a rhythm, circling your clit as her mouth attaches to your nipple.

“abby, fuck…” you moan shakily, one hand tightening around her wrist, keeping her where it feels good, the other gripping lightly at her hair.

“is that okay?” she asks. she’s looking up at you reverently, desperate to impress, and the sight sends even more heat pooling in your lower belly.

you nod hungrily and your hand moves from her wrist to her waistband, voice coming out a lot more needy than you intend. “take these off.”

she obeys you without a word, and your free hand immediately goes to touch her, spreading her apart and toying with her clit, reveling in the noises it draws.

you make each other cum like that, touching each other at the same time, all needy and yearning. you’re first, abby’s nerves getting the best of her, you unable to help yourself. it all builds and builds until it hits you hard, breathy, high pitched moans and whines of her name tumbling out against her shoulder. hearing you, seeing you like that sends her absolutely reeling, and it’s not long until she’s there too. you pull her face level to yours with your free hand, threading your fingers through her hair, needing to look at her as she cums.

she looks so pretty, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn, parted lips rosy as she pants her way through her orgasm, unable to help the string of mmphs and low, strangled moans that escape her.

you work her through it, slowing your movements gradually, stroking at her face as she comes down. it’s quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the forgotten movie across the room and both of you attempting to regain your breathing.

“okay?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

she nods, eyes still closed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. then, her mouth twitches, corners forming a small smile. “yeah. fuck.”

you mirror her, a tiny smile of your own tugging at your lips. “good.”

kissing her nose lightly, you shift your hand away from her pussy and pop your messy fingers in your mouth, cleaning her off you, relishing in her taste.

she watches through hazy eyes, committing the sight to memory.

yeah. she’s never looking back.

[jayparked]

hii!! congrats on 1k! ^^ can i perhaps get 47 + 75 with jungwon? <33

"jungwon, please! it's too much!" you cry out, tears staining your cheeks while your boyfriend relentlessly pounds into your pussy. he has you sitting on top of the bathroom sink in some random person's house, the music from the party downstairs vibrating the walls around you. it's the one thing you try to focus on in order to hang onto your sanity. jungwon has already made you come twice now and he's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

he watches the spot where your bodies connect carefully, lips parted slightly as he pants with each hardened thrust. his tongue pokes out to swipe along his bottom lip before he looks into your eyes, his own cloudy with determination.

"not stopping," his words come out ragged as he continues to put everything he has into each thrust, "someone else thinks they can fuck you better? im gonna make you come so many times on my cock that you'll never doubt that i'm the only one who can do this to you. only i get to ruin you like this, you hear me?"

"wh-? what are you talking about?" your eyelids are fluttering now and you're desperate to ignore the way your bruised walls clench around him.

"heard some guy talking about you, eye fucking the hell out of you too. said he could probably make you come in less than five minutes," jungwon scoffs, "well i made you come in one minute. and i bet i can do it faster if we were at home." a darkness flicks across his iris's and suddenly he's gripping you even tighter, moving your legs higher up on his waist.

"i want you to scream my name," growling, jungwon grabs your hips and pulls your body in pace to his thrusts, each one harder than the last and it's a miracle you can even understand what he's saying with the way you're so fucked out.

"th-there are people outside this door. you want everyone to know we're having sex?"

"well, this isn't about them now is it?" he grows more aggressively, lips now attached to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on your flesh until pretty little red marks appear.

you try to hold on, you really do. but jungwon lifts you off the counter and holds you against his body, using his upper body strength to bounce you on his cock while he leans against the bathroom wall. the squelching is getting louder as your ability to hang on dissipates.

"fuck! yes! jungwon right there! oh my god jungwon please!" you dig your nails into his shoulders and flex your leg muscles around his waist, his pace still not letting up.

you were doing just fine until suddenly, jungwon's voice drops to a lower register, his tone even and demanding, "that's it baby. tell everyone i'm the only one who can ever make you feel this good."

suddenly, without any warning, you're releasing on his cock once again, his name leaving your lips with a scream that rips through the house right as the music goes silent between changing songs.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[heelix1r]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 LET ME ROCK YOUR WORLD , BABY ! 🍒

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ they’ll stop at nothing from getting their hands on the prize — you. too bad for them, since you couldn’t care less.

bela is typing . . . this is purely self indulgent ,, totally not my guilty pleasure 🫡 I WILL HAVE A MAKNAE LINE VER TOO TRUST

hyung line x f!reader | drabble | a little suggestive ? | playboy!enha | college au

masterlist | guidelines

content : swearing , skinship , lots of persistence and nonstop pursuing , suggestive for hyung line only !

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ LEE HEESEUNG ]

heeseung stood in the kitchen, his bottle nearly empty from the soju he had been drinking.

amidst the chaos, the loud noises, his shit-faced peers enjoying life without a care in the world, he was on the prowl. he could feel it in his senses that someone was out there for him. here, at this party. his eyes were narrowed as he observed the rooms before him, amidst the faces that blurred together.

he was waiting for that spark. that feeling he knew all too well — the adrenaline rush, the chase of finding someone worth his time. someone he could satisfy like no other; sure, there were others, but he had to get that experience somewhere.

as he was lost in thought, someone bumped into him as he prepared to reenter the party, and he huffed as he looked down.

he had bumped into none other than you.

“sorry,” you mumbled, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of soju. he never budged, forcing you to press your chest against his. “needed this.”

in a flash, he felt his heart race. there it was. he had gotten the signal he had been waiting for all night—and he didn’t even have to look that hard. here you were, giving yourself to him like that. it was meant to be.

“hold on, princess.” he called out to you as you turned to leave, grabbing you by your free hand and pulling him back to you with ease. it was enough to press your chest against his once more, and he felt his body light on fire. fuck, you definitely were the one.

his lips curled into a knowing smirk as he slowly grabbed the bottle of soju from your hand. “let me open that for you.” you didn’t protest as he popped the cap open in one swift motion, and he returned the bottle, soon opening another one to share with you. “i haven’t seen your pretty face around here before,” he cooed, his eyes shamelessly scanning your figure. “are you new here?”

his eyebrow cocked upwards as you took a step back from him, and he took note of the lack of amusement on your face. “no,” you responded bluntly. “i know who you are, lee heeseung.”

he felt his heart thumping wildly as you said his name. it sounded so sweet, he could taste the honey that dripped from your voice. he almost wanted you to say it again.

he couldn’t help but laugh at this predicament — god, you were so adorable. he could eat you right up.

and he really, really wanted to.

“i guess i am,” he confessed, holding up his hands as if to feign innocence. “there’s just a lot of names to remember… mind if you give me yours?” he reached over and took your hand in his, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it. “i promise i’ll never forget it.”

“like you need to know.” shaking your head, you pulled your hand back, taking a sip of the soju in your hand. “if you didn’t know it before, you don’t need to learn it today.”

he raised both eyebrows this time. if he was unsure of your lack of interest, he certainly got the hint. he had his fair share of rejections, but this early on? it jabbed at his ego.

but that anticipation in his chest bubbled, threatening to overflow. he wasn’t one to pursue the chase for too long, but by the way you snapped at him, the way you leaned against a hip and stared him down as if he meant nothing more than a fly on the wall — shit, is he actually into that?

he cleared his throat, composing himself before pushing himself off the table. he approached you slowly, a charming smile stretched across his lips.

“well,” he began, returning your gaze with one that spoke of a challenge. “will you give me a chance to earn it then, baby?” as he spoke, his hand snaked its way around your waist, wasting no time to pull you back to him. he couldn’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him, digging his fingers a little deeper into your curves, and he felt something stirring within himself.

god, he needed to earn you.

you scoffed at his advances, pressing a hand against his chest and pushing him away. “in your dreams, heeseung.” but he noticed the way you took in the sight of him for a moment longer, a ghost of a smile creeping to the corners of your lips as you turned away.

his heart was pounding as he took another sip of his soju as he watched you walk away. his eyes lowered, to the way your hips swayed with each step. he tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth, the adrenaline swallowing him whole.

this was a challenge worth chasing.

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ PARK JONGSEONG ]

you were just so… good.

something about you screamed exuberance. you attained a higher level of goodness that every time you walked into a room, jay’s eyes couldn’t get enough of you. you were a magnet, a siren call that lured him in. you never tried to—that was just your charm.

and god, he wanted a piece of that goodness.

he found you in the library while perusing the campus, a glint in his eye twinkling with want as he watched you type away on your laptop, that mesmerizing, angelic goodness reverberating from you. you were here, alone, and his for the taking. that siren call made its way back into his brain, and he made up his mind.

slowly, he made his way over to you, his mind made up. this was his chance to move, his chance to make him yours. there were so many ways he wanted to rock your world, and it drove him crazy just thinking about it. his heart raced with fervent anticipation as he closed the distance between the two of you—you were clueless as to how hard he was going to rock your world. he was going to be the experience of a lifetime.

without hesitating, he pulled a chair across from you and plopped down, his eyes locked onto yours as he waited for you to notice him. it took a few seconds, but you sensed your presence, you stopped typing, your eyes made its way to him, and his breath hitched at the eye contact. you were right there.

“can i help you?” you asked, a growing look of confusing spreading across your features. god, you were so goddamn cute. jay’s lips curled into a smile, that same charming smile that had won the hearts of so many women before you. but none of them mattered right now—only you were in his crosshairs.

he had a lot of different ways you could help him playing in his mind, but he kept it cool. he was no stranger to playing it cool, even if the truth was that his desire to pounce surged throughout his body.

“maybe,” he hummed, leaning forward from his seat, his eyes fixated on yours. “are you interested in helping me, angel?”

“do you need… tutoring lessons?” you asked him, not catching his drift.

the idea appalled him, until he realized what that could mean. the smirk on his face made it clear. “will that include alone time with you?” he asked, pushing your laptop to close in order to get a better look at you. his gaze intensified, moving his eyes shamelessly across your profile. you were right here in front of him. he never needed you more than he did in this moment.

but you didn’t seem to catch on. you sat a little straighter, lifting your laptop back upwards. “i guess,” you replied, looking around. “if the library is empty. but it usually isn’t.”

no, not the goddamn library.

“i wasn’t thinking here, angel,” he corrected you. “i was more thinking…” he began, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “… private tutoring lessons back in your room. or mine.”

he observed your face closely, watching with excitement as he noticed a faint blush spread to your cheeks. there was no way he missed the way you slowly moved your hands to rest on your cheeks, and he bit his bottom lip as he soaked in his triumph. hook, line, and sinker.

just as he was thinking that he was finally going to have you wrapped around his finger, his eyebrows scrunched in frustration as you flashed him an awkward smile, closing your laptop and swiftly returning it into your bag.

“oh—i don’t do that.” you shook your head, standing up as quickly as you zipped your backpack. “i’m flattered, though. if you ever do need any tutoring lessons, i’m more than happy to help.” with a final wave and a smile, you were gone.

jay sat there, stunned. by the time he snapped out of it, he looked around and realized you weren’t anywhere in sight. you didn’t even consider his offer.

what the hell was that?

he ran a hand through his hair, wondering where he went wrong. there was no way you could just say no so quickly and leave, right?

he saw the way you reacted to his proposal. you were intrigued. he piqued your interest.

he wanted the chase. oh god, the things he would do to win you over. he desperately needed you, thoughts of you swirling in his head as he exited the library.

he’ll have a piece of that goodness, or he’ll die trying.

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ SIM JAEYUN ]

“jake, what do you want?” you asked, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips as he sauntered over to you, grinning widely in return.

“i know you’re so excited to see me again, princess.” he towered over you, bending down enough to have you at eye level. “i just wouldn’t wait to see you. i’ve been thinking about you all day.”

you took a step back from him, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and shaking your head. “really?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips. “how many other girls have you said that to today?”

laughing at your response, he clutched his chest in mock pain. “you wound me,” he cried, approaching you yet again. this close proximity was so much fun, it was part of the exhilaration that came with pursuing you. “you know i’m all yours, baby.” as he said so, he quickly snaked a hand around your waist, as if to prove his point.

even as he closed the distance between you, you never wavered. “you never answered my question, jake.”

“baby, does that really matter?” he asked, pouting softly. “it’s meaningless, unless it’s for you.”

“it does, actually.” you tentatively removed his hold of your waist, the lack of amusement clear on your face. “i know you better than that, jake sim.”

even when you were so aloof, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. it excited him, this dynamic where he could say whatever he wanted to charm you. and even though you turned him down each time, you still entertained him. it was so much fun watching your eyebrows scrunch at him, falling for each attempt to hold you close. the end goal wasn’t to have you close, it was to have you touch him, even if it was just his hand, his chest, or anything that would make you push him away. the connection was enough for him. you were electrifying to him, in a way that drove him crazy for you.

this game, or whatever it was, made jake desire you that much more. your sharp gaze makes his heart skip a beat, and the way you said his name put his mind in a frenzy. it was like a song he could put on repeat—he desperately craved the adrenaline rush you gave him.

he craved you.

“you know i can’t resist a good time with anyone, baby.” confessing to your question, he smiled innocently. “but if you really just wanted all of that attention for yourself, you know i’d do anything for you.”

“you always know what to say,” you muttered under your breath. his lips curled into a teasing smirk as he caught you rolling your eyes. you were so easy to tease, and he loved it. you were just too easy.

if only he could have you, it would make things that much more fun.

“anything to entertain you, princess.” jake leaned in closer to you, his heart racing as he cupped your face.

“come on, baby. just one day. a whole day to let me rock your world.” his eyes narrowed, trailing your body in a fit of desperation. “you know i would never disappoint you. i’ll make it worth your time, more than you could ever imagine.” his voice lowered intimately, so only you could hear him. “say yes, baby. i promise you’ll be begging to have more of me.”

he watched silently as you pressed your lips together, letting out a huff as you rejected his advances once more, taking another step back from him and crossing your arms. you never hesitated. “in your dreams, jake.”

watching you step back away from him, he stood back up straight, a sweet smile spread across his face as he placed his hands in his pockets. “i tried,” he hummed, seemingly unaffected by yet another failed attempt to get you to give him a chance. “i’ll just have to try harder. i’ll make you want me sooner or later.”

“yeah, sure.” when he tried leaning in again, you wasted no time in pushing his face away. “okay, that’s enough out of you. i’m going to class.” slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you began to walk away without looking back. jake was hoping you’d give him one last look, but to no avail. it gave him a chance to watch you walk from behind, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

but when you turned the corner and left his line of sight, his eyes narrowed. this was more than just a game. his body desperately craved you—he was addicted to the way you carried yourself around him, and it made him want you that much more. you thrilled him, made him work for something. imagining the day he would finally triumph over you kept him focused on chasing you.

he knows you’ll say yes one day if he tries hard enough.

. ° ༘ 🍒⋆ 🪽 ₊˚ෆ [ PARK SUNGHOON ]

sunghoon was warned against pursuing you. you, notoriously known for minding your own business, were the flame that ignited a challenge in him.

he just wanted to prove that he could have you.

sunghoon was on alert now, now that he had a goal in mind. just a few nice words, a smile, and his eyes focused on you was all you would need to fold for him. the satisfaction of wrapping you around his finger was intoxicating. no matter how many times he did this, it never gets old. he was addicted the rush of the satisfaction, the high of knowing he could have anyone he wanted.

he found you after a class you two shared—he never noticed you before, but after learning what he now knows about you, he had his eyes on the prize. as he approached you, an excited grin tugged the corners of his lips. he was going to have so much fun with you.

by the time he was done, you’d be begging for him. you’ll need him after this.

“hey.” you turned to face him, and he graced you with a soft, endearing smile. “the professor was talking about the final project being done in groups, right?”

he kept note of your reaction to him as he kept up the nice guy act. he was slightly ticked at your nonchalance, but nothing that fazed him.

“yeah,” you replied, “that’s right.”

he waited for you to say something else. his face dropped as soon as he realized that was all he was going to get from you.

“i see.” you were giving him nothing to work with, and he was starting to see that notoriety of yours for himself. he paused, trying to make sense of the way you looked at him without a bother, without a care. this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

he cleared his throat before running a hand through his hair. “well,” he began, hesitating with his words. “since the professor hasn’t chosen any specific groups… i was wondering if you wanted to work with me?” he tilted his head slightly, as if to prove his “innocent” intentions. “i think we’d make a really good team.”

instead of the nod he was expecting, you stared at him blankly. you didn’t even look slightly interested—just confused.

“why?” was the only thing you asked him.

his eye twitched. what the hell was wrong with you?

he gritted his teeth, realizing that this was going to be a lot harder than he thought. but sunghoon was not the type to back down from a challenge, and you were right here, for the taking. he’d find ways to make you more interested, and not this insufferable bluntness.

taking a new direction, he composed himself, his eyes looking at you with a newfound gentleness. this had to work. he’d drive himself crazy otherwise.

“if i’m being honest,” he confessed, “i think you’re beautiful.” as he spoke, he approached you slowly. “i’ve been wanting to get to know you for a while, and i figured working on this project together would be the perfect chance to become well acquainted together.” he spoke sweetly, trying hard to entice you to consider his offer. “and maybe after this,” he added, delicately enveloping your hand within his own, “i could take you out. you know, as a way of celebrating our work.”

he waited with bated breath. was he really this desperate for you to say yes? he almost couldn’t believe that the words really came from his mouth.

you pressed your lips together awkwardly, removing your hand away to maintain the distance between the two of you. “that’s real sweet,” you began, awkwardly offering you a half-smile. “but i already made plans with my friends to work on the project together. i’ll have to pass, sorry.”

his eyes widened as you gave him a sad excuse of a wave, turning away from him. “i’ll see you around,” you mumbled, leaving him behind to meet with your friends elsewhere.

sunghoon frowned, his eyes narrowing as he watched you disappear. he was appalled that he was almost desperate to get you to say yes, and you still said no.

he couldn’t accept it. there was no way.

he clicked his tongue, feeling his heart thumping in a way that felt foreign to him. this was infuriating—you were infuriating.

and yet, he didn’t want to give up.

he couldn’t leave it at that. he felt a newfound desire surging into his body, and he realized that he needed you, whether he wanted to or not. it angered and excited him all at once as the realization dawned on him.

you were going to be a challenge, alright. he was the fool for underestimating you.

but he would have the last laugh, without a doubt. everyone had their weakness, a point where they give in. sunghoon knew you were no different, and the thought comforted him.

he crossed his arms lightly, a twisted smile spread across his face. this was the chase he had been wanting all along. you were going to be his favorite challenge. he’d make you want him more than you’d ever want anything else—he’ll make you feel a fraction of the frustration you made him go through.

and he’ll love every minute of it.

2024 © heelix1r.

[strnilolover]

player!chris notices ditsy!reader being hit on uninvitedly …

Thursdays were a particularly slow day for you — your lectures were spaced out and you had lots of free time between them. Normally you’d opt for going back to your dorm, maybe take a nap or read a book to your favorite series you were reading — or work on some of the class work for some of your courses with Chris.

But, today you had chosen differently. It was bright and sunny outside, the kind of warmth that was just right to sit in and enjoy without getting too overheated.

Your body weaved through people, holding your books close to your chest as you made your way to the fountain that sat in the middle of the campus grounds. Accidentally bumping into a few people when you got too lost in thought about different subjects — muttering a quick apology before continuing your route.

As you continued to walk across campus, you pulled out your phone from your bag to text Chris. You were supposed to meet up with him soon, but he hadn’t told you where he was yet, so you decided to let him know your plans.

You: Heading to the fountain. Meet me there when you’re free!

You tucked your phone back into your bag swiftly as you finally made it to the fountain. It’s gentle bubbling and colorful flowers surrounding it — it was the perfect place to lose yourself in a book. It wasn’t long before you found a seat on the stone ledge, setting your books down and opening the dog-eared paperback you always carried.

You hadn’t been reading long when a shadow had suddenly fell across your page. Looking up, you thought it was Chris, having finally made his way to where you were — but instead you saw a group of guys standing around you, their expressions cocky and intrusive.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” one of them said, grinning. Your brows furrowed, an uneasy feeling fluttering in your chest. “Hi,” you said softly, your grip tightening on your book.

“You waitin’ for someone?” another asked, stepping closer. “’Cause it looks like you’ve got some time to kill.” his voice had this undertone to it that you couldn’t place…they didn’t seem like they were wanting to be friendly.

“I’m just reading,” you replied, your voice small as you shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Reading? What’s so interesting in there?” the first guy said, leaning down to get a better look. “Bet it’s some cheesy romance novel, huh?” he teased mockingly.

You shook your head, trying to focus back on your book. “It’s not cheesy.” you muttered, trying to take your focus off of them the best you could.

“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing. “You don’t need to sit here reading by yourself. We could keep you company.” he cooed, a cocky grin being placed on his lips. “That’s okay,” you murmured, hoping they’d take the hint. But instead, one of them plopped down beside you, way too close for comfort.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he said, flashing a grin. “We’re just trying to be friendly.” — yeah a little too friendly. “Yeah,” another chimed in, crouching in front of you. “You’re cute. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, “Um…” shrinking back slightly. “I’m fine, really. I just want to read.” The guy beside you chuckled, draping an arm across the back of the ledge. “Aw, don’t be like that. You’re too pretty to sit here all by yourself. We’re just trying to get to know you.”

Before you could respond, the one in front of you reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “She’s shy,” he said, smirking. “That’s adorable.”

You leaned back away from his touch, clutching your book to your chest. “Please don’t—” but before your sentence could fully leave your lips, a sharp voice cut through the tension between you and the guys.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The voice made you jump, and all four of the guys froze, their heads snapping toward the source. Chris was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. His blue eyes flicked to you for a moment, softening briefly before narrowing on the group of guys.

“Oh, hey, Chris,” one of them said, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t know this was your girl.”

Chris stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Doesn’t matter if she’s mine or not. What the fuck gives you the right to corner her like that?” he bit out, his teeth gritting together so hard you thought he might break them.

“Relax, man,” the guy sitting beside you said, holding up his hands. “We were just talking.”

Chris’ brow raised. “Talking?” his voice was icy, his glare cutting. “This is what you call talking? Surrounding her, getting in her face, touching her without permission? You think that’s okay?” he spat out, his body coming closer until he was standing directly in front of them.

“Come on, Chris,” one of them said, rolling his eyes. “You’re one to talk. We’ve all seen you with girls. You’re with a different one every week.” he tried to argue.

Chris’s jaw tightened more, his fists clenching at his sides. “Yeah, I’ve been with girls. But you know what I don’t do? Corner them, harass them, or make them feel uncomfortable. Don’t even try to put me in the same category as you.” he said coldly, like it was the most dumbest statement someone had tried to ever make toward him.

The guys exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado faltering. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Chris continued, his voice rising. “She was sitting here reading, minding her own business. You don’t get to pull this crap and call it flirting.” and as he said that, the guy sitting next to you stood up — the others backing up slightly.

“Chill, man. It’s not that serious,” one of them mumbled, but he wouldn’t meet Chris’s eyes. “It’s serious to me,” Chris snapped. “Now get the fuck outta here before I make you.”

The group hesitated, but one look at Chris’s furious expression was enough to send them retreating with muttered apologies. Chris waited until they were out of sight before turning to you, his expression softening instantly. “You okay angel?”

You nodded shakily, clutching your book to your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” you muttered. Chris crouched down in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress. “They didn’t touch you, did they?” he whispered, bringing a hand up to gently touch your cheek,

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m okay. You got here just in time.” And Chris let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good. Because if they had…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. What were they even thinking?” he muttered — more to himself than you.

“I don’t know,” you said softly. “They just wouldn’t leave me alone.” you said, feeling the unease in your stomach pooling more at the thought, but lessening slightly. Chris frowned, standing up and offering you his hand. “Come on. Let me walk you somewhere. I don’t trust those idiots not to come back.”

And you hesitated before slowly placing your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Chris,” you whispered, looking up at him, his hands reaching for your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

His smirk returned, though it was tinged with protectiveness. “Always angel. Nobody’s allowed to do that and just get away with it. They’re lucky i didn’t break their fucking jaws. fuckin’ assholes.” he muttered as he placed his arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the building with the food court.

As the two of you walked away together, you couldn’t help but feel your heart race — partly from the lingering nerves, but mostly from the way Chris looked at you — the way he protected you.

What was this feeling?

© strnilolover

[meazalykov]

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood. 

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot. 

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. 

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills. 

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail. 

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh. 

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk, 

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m. 

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest. 

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily. 

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual. 

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual. 

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity, 

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab. 

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking. 

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty. 

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink. 

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice. 

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave. 

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets. 

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors. 

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london. 

masterlist

[angelltheninth]

Gentle Prince

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cuddlefucking, aftercare, cockwarming, breeding kink, marks, creampie, caring!Daemon, husband!Daemon

Word count: 0.6k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: It's gonna be nothing but smut these next few days I'm afraid.

His breath is still hot against your ear, his grunts sending more tingles down your spine as his hands finally loosen their hold on your hips. He pulls away, his forehead briefly leaning against yours, "I'm afraid I got a little carried away with you darling. How do you feel?" His eyes are still almost entirely backed out, his lips grazing your own, almost making you want more.

You would take more if you could. "Tired." You breathe out a sigh, "I think we both got carried away. I can't even move. My body feels so heavy. But it's a good kind." Daemon huffs out a lough as he leans down a kisses your cheek.

You feel him shifting on top of you and instinctively wrap your legs around him. The fact that you did it so easily, without him even asking just goes to show how used you are to doing so.

"It's alright sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here. Inside you where I belong." He jolts his hips into you, making you gasp from how overstimulated you are, "Where my cum belongs."

You tighten around him, just thinking about feeling so full for the rest of the night makes your head spin and your body light up from the inside all over again. "Then maybe you should stay put, my prince."

"I plan to. But that doesn't mean my hands or mouth have to be. I have much to make up for. All these bruises and marks on you, someone has to kiss them better. It's my job as your husband to take care of you after all." He leans down and kisses the bite mark on your neck as his hands smooth over your bruised hips, down to massage your tense thighs, "To worship you."

For a few minutes you allow your body to relax, to enjoy the soft kisses and touches. The way he touches you now is so different from before. He was almost feral, rutting into you, telling you how good you look underneath him, full of his cock, how well he did to chose you, how good you are at taking his seed, how pretty you'll look when you're properly breed by him, cum spilling out everywhere between your trembling legs.

He treated you like he wanted to break you in half. And now he's being so gentle, the only evidence of the wild lovemaking being the marks he left, the warm cum filling up your pussy hole and the messy sheets and pillows.

"Darling... hm... you're going to get me hard again if you keep fluttering around me like that. Are you that insatiable?" You can hear the strain, as well as the slight anticipation in Daemon's voice. And if the slight throb of his dick is anything to go by he wouldn't mind going again either.

"Me? I was not the one who fucked the other back into consciousness. Do you have any idea what that feels like? How long was I out for anyways?" Daemon tilts his head a little, his damp hair falling over his forehead before you run your fingers through it.

"Thank you love." He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth and comfort of your touch, "To answer your questions, you were out for a very short time. I barely had the time to get myself hard again. And no, I cannot say I've ever been fucked back into consciousness. Perhaps we should try it sometime, if you think you think you can make me black out that is."

You smirk and run your hands down his back, making him his as you press the pads of your fingers across the scratch marks you made there, "I'm always up for a challenge."

Daemon smiles, not grins but smiles, so soft and bright that one would not think him capable of it just going off rumors of him. You certainly didn't see him capable of such soft gestured when you first met. You've very glad that you decided to stick around to find out about them.