#if i look to the side too quick or move my head i feel like i'm going to faint

[corrcdedcoffin]

request: jj x kook!girlfriend & they get caught fucking by the pogues so oops the secrets out🤭

18+ mdni

warnings: smut, barely proof read, nothing else i don’t think. it ended up being super soft. i’m in my feels i guess. hope u enjoy

gif not mine (obvs)

kooks vs. pogues.

that's how it was for as long as he could remember. he'd heard the way his dad talked about the upper class, how they were all crooks too. greedy, power hungry business men that prey on the working class for sport. 'you stay away from em', y'hear me?' he'd say.

and jj listened for the most part. the only time he'd interact with a kook was when it was time to take a couple swings — and get a few handed back. he'd never regretted a fight no matter how much trouble he'd get in for it, cause ultimately, it led him to where he was now. face between your legs, pulling moans from you as easily and flawlessly as a puppeteer pulling on strings.

"god, you're so good at this" you whined, gripping his hair.

it'd been three months to the day that he'd asked you to be his girl, and he was set on showing you how much you meant to him. making you feel it.

he licked a thick stripe all the way up to your clit, swirling and sucking before moving back down to thrust his tongue in and out of your hole, fingers massaging your thighs.

hooking one arm around your leg, he slowly inserted two fingers, not bothering to ease you into it before pumping them right into your sweet spot. your legs squeezed around his head as he continued to lick and suck your sensitive nub, making you swear like a sailor.

"tastes so good" he spoke lowly, barely pulling away to watch you squirm. "could do this all day."

you lifted your head to look at him, the way he was staring at you making you feel so.. seen. so vulnerable. he didn't say it, but you could see it in his eyes. feel it in how he touched you. he wished he said it.

grabbing his hair, you gently tugged him up to kiss him. his face was a mess, covered in a mixture of you and him. you gently wiped it away as he pushed his tongue past your lips, slowly pumping his fingers once again.

he kissed your jaw and down your neck, licking a thin stripe before tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “need you, j" you whispered. as much as you loved the way his fingers moved inside you, you could feel him rutting into your side, and you couldn't wait to have him.

he pulled away just enough to look at you, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. another moment of sweetness that had you gushing for him. "as you wish," he whispered.

the two of you made quick work at removing the rest of your clothing, wasting no time in closing the distance between you once again.

now, jj was never one for intimacy. he never really liked to look when he was fucking, but this wasn't fucking. this... this was love. he knew it long before he got you here, in his bed at his best friends house. he climbed on top of you, rubbing every bit of flesh that he could reach as you pulled him in for another kiss.

he wanted to see you.

he spit in his hand and pumped himself twice, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your slit, poking it in your entrance just a little bit further each time. he was about to do it again, but you weren't having it. any other time you would have enjoyed the tease, but you needed him now. wrapping your legs around him, you pushed him all the way in.

loud moans escaped both of you, jj letting out a breathless chuckle. "jesus, baby," he threw his head back, unmoving.

you knew he was big. it may have been your first time having sex with him, but it wasn't the first time you'd seen it. you'd given him head before, but still, you weren't expecting to feel so full. even with neither of you moving, it felt good.

you wiggled your hips a little to signal you wanted him to move, but he was fast to hold you still. "w-wait, wait," he groaned, "jus' — need a moment."

you gave him puppy eyes, begging him to move. he traced his thumb across your bottom lip, and when you wrapped your lips around it and gently sucked, he thought he'd bust right then and there.

he couldn't deny you what you wanted after that. how could he? he was just a boy, after all. he started slow, pulling almost all the way out before going back in, hitting all the right spots and making you squirm already.

"feels good, j" you mumbled, gasping when he managed to push even further, a smirk on his face.

it wasn't long before you wanted even more, not caring that jj might not last as long as he wanted. if anything, you took it as a compliment. you pushed him back so he was sitting up, still inside you. your intent was to be on top while he laid back and relaxed, but this felt too good to stop.

he was so deep inside that the slightest movement made you shake. his arms wrapped around your back, one sliding up to the back of your head, gripping your hair. you had your hands on the sides of his face, taking in how fucked out he looked already. slowly, you began to ride him, turning him into a moaning mess.

it was pure bliss.

the way the course hairs at his base provided the perfect amount of friction on your clit, the way he touched you all over, how he looked at you. god, if he didn't stop looking at you like that, you'd end up pregnant.

his hands moved to your hips, helping you slide up and down on his cock, pushing you down harder. neither of you could help the lewd noises or strings of praise and babble escaping you. the two of two of you weren't necessarily being loud, but you were definitely caught up in your own world — in one another. you definitely didn't hear the door to john b's twinkie slamming shut outside, or the footsteps coming down the hall.

you did hear the shriek when the bedroom door opened.

it slammed shut again, footsteps running away down the hall. you halted your movements, you and jj looking at each other with wide eyes. he'd wanted to keep things a secret for a while, not wanting his friends to be judgemental and make him get in his head about his relationship with you. he already had enough to worry about, he didn’t need your feelings for him to be added onto that list.

"i didn't hear them come back" you said, looking from his bedroom door to the window.

you knew how he felt about the situation, he'd told you countless times that he wanted the whole world to know you were his girl, but he wanted to stay in the safe and secure bubble for a just little while.

he was still rock hard, a little twitch let you know he was unbothered. you looked at him with uncertainty, but he looked back at you with love. "i don't care" he shook his head before kissing you. he laid you back down on his bed before thrusting into you once more.

picking up the pace a little bit, jj rubbed firm, tight circles on your clit. "jay..." you moaned, a little too loud for comfort, his free hand moving to cover your mouth.

any other time, he'd love to be disgustingly loud just to fuck with his friends. he’d take pride in it — but this moment was just for the two of you.

"shh, baby, i know" he cooed, replacing his hand with his lips.

you could feel the tightness building in your abdomen, slowly at first, then all at once. you tried to hold it off, but he wouldn't let you.

"c'mon, pretty girl. come on my cock" his voice was so low and sultry, his thumb continuing its assault on your clit. that was all you needed to come undone.

you clenched around him, gummy walls pulsating and pulling his own orgasm from him unexpectedly. in the moment, neither of you cared he didn’t pull out — it felt too good to worry about it.

he reached down to kiss you once more, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulled away. "so pretty" he whispered, a small smile on his face.

you felt silly for blushing at that, considering everything the two of you just did (including getting caught), but you couldn't help it. you were about to say something back, like a you're pretty, which would've been kind of lame, but he spoke before you, saving you the embarrassment.

"let's get you cleaned up" he sighed, grabbing a shirt and getting to work. he could see his cum slowly dripping out of you, and it made him groan in both arousal and regret.

"what?" you questioned, sitting up to look at him.

he so badly wanted to push it back in, a quick daydream of you carrying his baby flashing in his mind, making him yearn. he knew better than that, though.

"nothin', just... probably should have done that" he showed you the cum covered shirt.

"yolo, i guess" you replied with a shrug, making him laugh. you were perfect, he thought.

once he cleaned you up, he helped you get dressed. it wasn't something you thought could be so sweet and considerate until now. he even put your socks on for you, placing a kiss on each ankle as he did so.

"ready to face the heat?" he looked up at you, hands loosely holding onto your ankles. you nodded your head.

"okay," he tapped your legs as he stood up, holding his hand out for you. "i think they'll be nice, but i can't make any promises." he placed a kiss on your temple before slowly leading you out of his room.

"you sure?" he turned back, playful look in his eye.

"just go," you rolled your eyes as you nudged him forward.

you trailed behind jj, a little nervous to be meeting his friends for the first time this way. but as he led you out into the porch, you were greeted with hoots and hollers, full of excited cheers exclaiming how happy they were for their friend.

of course, they'd teased you both relentlessly for the rest of the evening, but neither of you could find it in you to care. your relationship was no longer a secret, and it felt good.

don’t be shy, reblog!

[godjustkys]

THEME: it's just hate sex with dean..

CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester

NOTE: as promised, dean winchester one shot. also!! requests are open.

WARNING: breeding kink,, clothed sex,, dirty talk,, degradation,, slight dacryphilia,, hair pulling,, short and not proof-read :(

“..hhhfuck—” dean breathed out lowly, grasping onto the table's edge for dear life. his back was arched slightly, forehead pressed against the wooden surface itself.

dean was bent over a table, and you were fucking him from behind. your hands holding his hips firmly, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. sure, it was stable, but it wasn't fast enough for dean. he wanted you to be rougher. “Don't be a bitch, dean.” you cooed gently, pushing one hand up dean's spine, the action more sensual than anything. “let me hear you.” in response, the other just gritted his teeth, letting out a small frustrated groan. how could he let this happen? he hated you, he hated every single bone of your body.

“you- fuck like a virgin.” dean mumbled out, his tone bitter. “this your first time? you experimenting, huh?” he quipped, lifting his head up and turning it to the side, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You let out an amused scoff in response, suddenly pushing your hips forward, the action harsh and quick. it made dean stumble, knees buckling for a moment, his grip on the edge tightening. he turned his head away immediately clenching his jaw.

“don't try to taunt me, dean. you're the one taking my cock like a damn slut right now. i can feel you clenching around me,” you spoke, leaning forward, your chest just above his back. “shh-shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch—” dean responded with a strained voice, his face twitching in annoyance. or maybe from the fact that he was holding back so many sounds. he pretended like he didn't like what you said, but god, he only got harder. his abdomen tensed too. fuck. “listen to yourself right now..” you muttered, your lips right next to his ear. “the little gasps? yeah, you love this,” your tone took a more confident edge.

dean hadn't even realized that he was gasping, letting out soft breaths that soon evolved to pants. “Mmhhm—” he let out an agitated groan that turned into a humourless chuckle. “you- keep telling yourself that-” he choked out. “oh, I don't need to. you think I would've been able to get you into this position if you didn't want it? aren't you a big, strong hunter?” you teased, moving one hand to the back of his neck. soon enough, you gripped his hair, pulling his head back. “so, tell me,” you urged him, pressing a kiss to his throat. “tell me how much you want this. how much you want my cock, how good you feel right now.”

dean kept quiet, his breathing laboured and heavy. his eyes fluttered shut as you continued kissing his throat, eyebrows stitched together. “go to hell.” he spoke as he tried to squirm out of your grip. “no, no dean,” you pressed gentle kisses against his skin again, making your way from his throat to the nape of his neck, letting go of his messy hair. “not what i asked for,” the moment you said the word 'asked' you thrusted in deeper, as if enunciating your point, making dean squirm even more. “but I'll let it slide.” you breathed out, eyes boring into the back of his head.

“shhh..shit. fuck fuck fuck-” dean groaned out, his eyes screwed shut. “you're a bastard-” he said before letting out a mewl, of all things. you let out a small chuckle, letting your pace increase - you couldn't torture dean for long, you were starting to feel bad with all his jittery squirming. “mhm? what else?” you inquired softly, so innocently, as if you weren't pounding him from the back. dean could take this, of course he could. But then, both of your hands moved back to dean's hips, grip firm, as you pulled him against you. essentially, making his ass meet your pelvis.

“hhn!” he gritted out, his fingers curling up around the edge of the table. “d- don't you manhandle me.” he protested weakly, his thighs tensing and hips stuttering. “that's not manhandling, dean. d'you want me to, though?” you asked gently, keeping your pace steady. of course, no response from the man under you. he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't curious as to what manhandling felt like, but he didn't have it in him to ask for that. let alone from you, someone he loathed. he's chastising himself for even letting this happen. his pride - wounded.

as dean continued his silent treatment of sorts, you decided for him. why the fuck not? gotta have some fun in a way, right? you pulled out, only momentarily, as you flipped dean over to his back with ease, earning a small, barely even audible yelp from the hunter. you pushed your way back in with slight resistance, dean's abdomen tensing as you did, his hands scrambling to grasp at something. well shit, his hands couldn't reach the table's edge anymore. and reaching for the edge above him would be uncomfortable. you noted his actions, realising immediately that he didn't want to touch you.

“damn, not even gonna put your hands on me?” you asked with a slightly offended tone, shifting on your feet to find a better, more comfortable angle. “c'mon..” you groaned out, one hand gripping dean's still clothed thigh, the other moving up to grip his jaw. “you want to, right? fuck your ego, dean. just do it.” you urged, your face so close to his. his vision was slightly unfocused, his toes curling just a bit. the thought was so tempting. his mind was starting to get lost in the pleasure you were providing, his skin tingling under your touch. “ain't happening.” he managed weakly, his face a.. a scowl? seriously?

“what a bitch,” you muttered in disbelief. “i've already got you where I wanted to, what's the point of giving me attitude, hm?” you pressed, the sound of your (unbuckled) belt buckle getting progressively louder due to your thrusts getting deeper. the slick sound of your cock going in and out of dean's hole progressing in volume, too. dean almost bit his tongue while trying to contain his noises. he wasn't going to give it to you. “baby, you've gotta be more compliant than that..” you cooed gently, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that dean didn't return. he wanted to. fuck you were so hot. soft groans escaped his throat, his lips pressed to a thin line as his hands gripped at literally nothing.

“how 'bout we make a deal, hm?” you suggested suddenly, your thrusts slowing down but not stopping. that grabbed dean's interest. “you stop holding back.. and I won't mention this, ever again.” he shot you a skeptical look. you? not talking about this? what a joke. “i promise.” you added, your tone almost pleading. “i just gotta know how good I make you feel. that's enough for me.” you breathed out, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin of his thigh. “i'll kill you- if- if you don't keep that stupid promise.” dean threatened, albeit with a shaky voice. he was far too easy to deal with.

finally, after what seemed an eternity, one of dean's hands found their way to your shoulder, the other reaching to hold onto your waist - or more so your shirt. due to his newfound compliance, you could give it your all without him trying to hold back. you pushed your cock all the way in, because you hadn't yet. safe to say that the man you were currently fucking the living daylight out of didn't know you weren't bottoming out. “Ah!- motherfuckerrrr-- mmhh—” he whimpered out in a broken voice, his hand moving from your shoulder to the side of your neck. his face was scrunched up, eyes shut tightly.

what heavenly sounds. you let a smile creep up onto your face as you kissed him, passionately, this time dean reciprocating the kiss even if he was a bit late. he let out deep grunts every time you thrusted in, your mouth just devouring the damned sounds. you didn't waste a second, pushing your tongue into his mouth and swirling it against his. dean's breath stuttered, almost feeling overwhelmed, his thighs aching beyond belief. when you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, dean spoke up. “are you fucking trying to suck out my soul?” he seethed, panting heavily.

“somethin' like that, yeah.” you breathed out, your eyes locked onto his neck as your hand that was on his jaw just ran over his torso. eventually, it ended up at the hem of his shirt. you simply pushed the shirt up to his collarbone, dean's facial expression shifting to a more confused one. the moment your mouth landed on his nipple, he forced himself to hold in a girlish shriek. he wasn't used to his nipples being played with. both of the latter's hands gripped at your hair, in an attempt to ground himself but also pull you away if needed. “wh- what the fuck, man?” dean got out, his voice strained, maybe a pitch higher.

the sensation of you sucking on his nipple and pounding into him ruthlessly made him let out continuous moans, his voice breaking more with each other. eventually, he let out a sob, his fingers tightening in your hair, the stinging pain making you groan against dean's skin. you could feel his thighs trembling against your pelvis. you didn't stop though, as dean made no protest. but what you took notice of was his whiny moan of your name. it made your gaze shift to his face. god, it made you wish you had a camera just to take a photo and hang it on your wall. his eyes welled up with tears, just barely, his mouth agape, drool on the corners of his lips, all pretty, just for you. you trailed up kisses from his chest to his face, the action more gentle than you anticipated but oh well. “fuck, you're such a slut.” you mumbled against his cheek, your eyes closed as you got lost on the bliss that were dean's sounds, his hopeless squirming and trembling. “takin' me so well, like you were made for this.” you continued. “were you?” you inquired, your tone too sweet compared to your words.

a fucking whimper was what you got in response, his hips shamelessly rocking against yours, as if seeking friction. he wasn't getting enough? “you tryna get off, huh?” you leaned back up, gazing down at him. “ugh, I wanna breed you.” you rasped out, too lost in your own fantasies. “just imagine it, me filling you up, to the brim. with my cum. mine.” dean's face contorted an almost concerned facial expression. the worst thing was was that he didn't even hate what you said, he wasn't against it. he might've actually liked it. he pulled you down as his hands remained in your hair, still, his mouth latching onto your neck as he sucked hickeys onto your skin. you hummed out a sound in response, twitching inside dean. he only continued making sounds against your skin. he seemed desperate to have some sense of control.

dean kept his head buried into your shoulder, as the numerous and various moans, whines and whimpers escaped his lips. he was trying so hard to catch his breath, his thighs tensing around your waist. “who knew such a deep voiced hunter would make such girlish moans?” you teased mindlessly, your only focus now to just breed the fuck outta him. it was at this point that dean didn't even bother responding, frantically holding you close, his hands trembling. oh god you were too much. not that he'd admit that. the more you continued thrusting into him, the more he cried out. yes, cried. sure, tears weren't rolling down his face, but they were there, you knew they were. you could recognise it, the way his voice got high pitched and so eager.

eventually, the overwhelming heat that was pooling in your lower stomach was getting even stronger, and you were close. not even warning dean, you gave harsh thrusts, the other's body twitching helplessly in response as he gasped. you came inside with a groan, your hands holding dean's waist so severel that it might've even left bruises. dean let out a sharp hiss before it turned into a mewl, once again, and he couldn't help but get even more turned on by the liquid that was inside of him. he came, untouched, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as his blunt nails dug into your shirt. he was sweating, his head lowered.

“this ain't 'nough.” you mumbled weakly, starting to move again. goddamn it, dean was in for a night.

[4linos]

asking skz to tie a ribbon around their bicep

ot8 stray kids x gn!reader

request: Asking the ot8 boys to tie a ribbon around their biceps

wc: 4172 (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

a/n: not proofread 🙂‍↔️.

bang chan

You were at the gym, watching Chan move through his usual routine. His biceps were flexing with each rep, and you couldn't help but appreciate the effort he put into his workout. Your eyes kept drifting back to his muscles, and an idea popped into your head—a mischievous one.

You walked up to him after he finished his set, smiling innocently. “Hey, babe, could you do something for me?”

Chan looked up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his face already breaking into a smile at the sight of you. “Sure, anything. What’s up?”

You leaned in slightly, “Could you tie a ribbon around your bicep for me? Just for fun.”

Chan blinked at you in surprise, then chuckled. “A ribbon? Around my bicep?”

You nodded, your grin widening. “Yeah, just for me. I think it’d look cute. Please?”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement, but the smirk on his face said it all—he wasn’t going to say no. “You’re a weirdo, but alright. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

He put the little, decorative ribbon you brought with you around his bicep, making sure it was snug but not too tight. The cheeky sparkle in his eyes caused you to laugh out loud when he turned to face you once more. "You think this is cute enough?" Chan asked, flaunting the ribbon and flexing his arm. "Perfect," you replied, smiling softly as you reached out to gently adjust it. "Everything looks good because of you." He leaned forward and kissed your forehead as his smile softened. "I'll wear a ribbon every day as long as it brings you joy."

You laughed, grateful for how far he’d go to indulge your silly requests.

lee know

On a relaxing afternoon, you and Minho were relaxing at home while you sat cross-legged on the couch and browsed through your phone to the soothing sounds of some music. Minho was at ease as he laid beside you with his arm slung across the back of the couch. You gave him a quick glance as a lighthearted thought occurred to you. You had always liked his biceps, but today you wanted to see them in a completely new way—in a cutesy yet ridiculous way. You quickly placed your phone down and smiled as you turned to face him.

With a hint of mischief in your tone, you said, "Hey, can you do me a favor?" Minho arched an eyebrow, obviously interested but unsure of the direction of this. "What is it?" Reaching over, you placed a little, colorful ribbon you had previously picked up on the side table. It was the perfect size and a gentle pastel tint. Your smile grew as you extended it to him. "Could you tie this around your bicep for me?" Minho looked at you for a time, blinking, as though he was trying to tell if you were kidding. "A ribbon? "Around my arm?" he asked, appearing both genuinely perplexed and amused by the request.

"Yeah," you said, giggling a little. "I think it'd look cute. Just for fun. Please?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "You're so random." But his smile grew, and he took the ribbon from you, clearly willing to indulge you. As he looped it around his bicep, you couldn't help but watch as his muscles flexed slightly under the motion, making your heart skip a beat.

Once it was tied, Minho looked at you, flexing his arm with a smirk. “Happy now?”

You leaned forward, pretending to inspect it, your finger gently adjusting the bow. "Absolutely. You look... ridiculously good. Like a gift wrapped just for me."

He rolled his eyes, clearly entertained. "You're weird," he said with a smile, but you could see the fondness in his eyes.

"You know you love it," you teased, reaching over to give his arm a playful squeeze, feeling the strength beneath your fingers.

Minho smiled, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair. “I really do,” he said, clearly amused by how something so simple could make you so happy.

"Good," you said, resting your head on his shoulder. "You’re the best, Min. Thanks for letting me make you a walking present."

He laughed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close.

changbin

It was a quiet night at home, and you and Changbin were spending time on the couch while the soft glow of the living room lights created a cozy atmosphere. He was leaning back, his muscles flexing slightly with each movement, while you were snuggled up next to him, your head resting on his shoulder, lazily scrolling through your phone. His biceps, which are well-defined and strong because of the amount of work he puts into his workouts, caught your eye as you looked at him absently. You admired his muscularity, but you couldn't get a silly idea out of your head today.

You turned to him, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across your face. "Hey, Bin," you said, glancing up from your phone.

He looked down at you with an amused expression. "What’s up?"

You hesitated for just a second, then pulled a small ribbon from your pocket, its soft pastel color standing out against the more neutral tones of the room. "Can you do me a favor?"

Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the sudden request. “What kind of favor?”

You held the ribbon out toward him with a teasing grin. “Could you tie this around your bicep for me? Just for fun. I think it’ll look cute.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback. “A ribbon? Around my bicep?” His voice was a mix of confusion and amusement, though you could already tell he wasn’t going to say no.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah, I think it’ll look cute. Just once, please?”

Changbin let out a small laugh, shaking his head at your quirky request but not even hesitating to take the ribbon from your hand. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, but there was a hint of playfulness in his voice. “But okay, for you.”

He gently wrapped the ribbon around his bicep, the contrast of the soft fabric against his muscular arm making your heart race. You couldn’t help but admire how even something so simple looked so good on him. Once it was secured, he flexed his arm slightly, looking down at it with a smirk.

"Well?" Changbin asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "How do I look?"

You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement. “You look... ridiculously good,” you said, your voice dripping with affection. “Like some kind of strong, tough guy, but also a little bit of a sweetheart with a ribbon around your arm.”

At your lighthearted remark, he shook his head and laughed. With the ribbon still precisely positioned on his arm, he drew you close to him and added, "I'm glad I can make you happy." You were happy with the small moment as you leaned toward him and put your head against his chest. You smiled to yourself and whispered, "You always do." "You're perfect." Changbin laughed quietly and kissed your forehead.

hyunjin

It was a sunny afternoon, and you and Hyunjin were strolling through a small outdoor market, taking in the sights and smells of the various stalls. You were looking at the colorful displays, the light breeze adding to the pleasant atmosphere. Hyunjin walked beside you, his relaxed stride matching the laid-back vibe of the day, his sleeves rolled up casually, showing off his sculpted arms.

You were walking past a stand with fabric and ribbons when you noticed one that stood out as especially delicate—it was a gentle pastel pink. Before you could stop yourself, you turned to Hyunjin and smiled nonchalantly as an idea struck you. You said, "Hey, Hyun," as you gazed up at him with a playful twinkle in your eyes. He looked down at you, looking at you with interest. "Yeah?" While holding out the ribbon, you said, "Can you do me a favor?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What kind of favor?"

With a teasing smile, you held the ribbon out toward him. "Could you tie this around your bicep? Just for fun," you said, your voice light and playful.

Hyunjin stopped walking for a moment, blinking at you in surprise. "A ribbon? Around my arm?" He chuckled softly, clearly amused by the randomness of the request. "Are you serious?"

You nodded enthusiastically, unable to contain your excitement. "Yep! I think it'd look cute. Come on, please?"

Hyunjin stopped for a moment, then shook his head while continuing to laugh. He said, "You’re really something," but his smile made it clear he wasn't going to turn you down. Taking the ribbon from your hand, he easily tied it around his bicep, his biceps rippling slightly as you both walked ahead. He arched an eyebrow at you as he straightened up and flexed his arm after tying it. With a teasing grin tugging at his lips, he asked, "How do I look?"

When you saw him with the delicate ribbon against his muscular arm, you couldn't help but giggle. Your heart skipped a beat at how incredibly good he looked. "You look... like a model who’s ready to break hearts and steal ribbons," you taunted. Clearly pleased with himself, Hyunjin grinned. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he added, emphasizing with his arm still flexed. "Anything for you, I guess." You bent over and kissed him on the cheek. You muttered, "You're the best," appreciating how he always gave in to your silly requests.

HAN

It was a breezy afternoon, and you and Jisung were taking a stroll through a local park, enjoying the calm atmosphere. The trees were swaying gently in the wind, and the sun was just starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. You walked side by side, hands brushing occasionally, the sound of your footsteps mixing with the peaceful background noise of nature.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. Jisung had rolled up his sleeves earlier, revealing his toned biceps. Every time he moved, you couldn’t help but admire how strong he looked, his muscles subtly flexing.

An idea popped into your head, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You decided to have a little fun.

"Hey, Ji," you said, turning to him with a teasing grin.

He glanced over at you with that signature cocky smirk of his. "What? What’s that look for?" he asked, already sensing that something mischievous was coming.

You pulled a soft, pastel ribbon out of your bag that you’d picked up earlier, holding it up with a playful sparkle in your eyes. "Can you tie this around your bicep?" you asked casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jisung blinked for a moment, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, before a cocky grin spread across his face. "A ribbon? Around my bicep?" he repeated, clearly amused. "What, you think I need a little decoration to match my muscles or something?"

Without even attempting to conceal your laughter, you burst out laughing. "Well, you know," you replied, "It’s just that I think you'd look even more... impressive with it." Jisung laughed, obviously taking pleasure in your flirty banter. "Oh, so I’m already impressive, but a ribbon is just the finishing touch?" His voice was overflowing with confidence as he flexed his arm, obviously playing up the situation. "Alright, I will. For you.” Taking the ribbon from your hand, he wrapped it around his bicep and secured it with a little, exaggerated arm flex. He moved slowly and deliberately, obviously relishing the attention he was receiving. He gave you a dramatic flex after finishing, lifting his arm a little.

With a smug look on his face, he asked, "How’s this?" "Looking good, right?" You chuckle quietly as you admire how self-assured he was about it. "Really?” You shook your head in pleased amazement and replied, "You look ridiculous... but also ridiculously good." "You could wear anything and still manage to look perfect." Jisung leaned in a little, obviously enjoying your compliment. "Of course," he answered, grinning even broadly. "I mean, I always look this good, but if a ribbon makes you smile, I’m all in."

You smiled, reaching up to adjust the ribbon playfully. "You really are full of yourself, huh?"

"Only because I know you like it," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You laughed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I’m definitely not complaining," you said, feeling the warmth of his confidence mixed with your affection for him.

As you continued your walk together, you couldn’t help but smile at how he always knew how to make you laugh—and how, no matter the request, he would always turn it into something fun.

felix

It was a cozy evening at home, and you and Felix were in the middle of a movie marathon. The soft glow of the fairy lights you’d strung up earlier added to the intimate vibe of the night, and a bowl of popcorn sat between you on the couch. You were curled up beside him, feeling completely content as you both laughed at the random jokes and cheesy moments of the movie.

Felix, who was in a comfortable oversized hoodie and sweatpants, absentmindedly tugged his hoodie off, showing off his lean arms as he adjusted himself on the couch. You couldn't help but notice how good he looked, even in something so simple.

Then, your eyes landed on a cute ribbon you had left on the coffee table. You remembered you had bought it earlier and thought it would be fun to incorporate it into your night somehow. A mischievous idea crept into your mind.

“Hey, Lix,” you said, pausing the movie with a sly grin.

He turned his head toward you with a curious expression. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice full of warmth.

You picked up the ribbon and held it up in front of him, the light catching its soft, pastel color. “Can you do me a favor?” you asked, your tone playful.

Felix blinked and tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “What kind of favor?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your giggles in check. “Could you tie this around your bicep? I think it’ll look really cute on you.”

Felix's eyes immediately lit up, his face breaking into an excited grin. “Wait… really?” he said, his voice practically bubbling with enthusiasm. “I’ve seen people doing this lately, and I’ve been wanting to try it! Yes! Let’s do it!”

You burst out laughing at his excitement. “I had no idea you’d be so into it.”

Felix practically bounced off the couch in excitement, reaching for the ribbon before you even finished speaking. "I’ve got to do it right, though," he said, his expression full of determination as he wrapped the ribbon carefully around his bicep, making sure it was tied perfectly. He flexed his arm as he finished, clearly pleased with the result.

He turned toward you with a proud smirk. "How’s this? Am I pulling it off?" he asked, his voice full of playful confidence.

You smiled, completely amused by how eager he was. “You look amazing,” you said, laughing. "Honestly, you’re probably the best person to wear a ribbon. It looks like you were born for it."

Felix struck a dramatic pose, flexing his arm again as if he were on a runway. “I knew it,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “I’m a trendsetter. Always ahead of the curve.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching over to adjust the ribbon slightly. “You’re so extra,” you teased, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “But you really do look good.”

Felix smiled widely, his eyes softening as he pulled you closer. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling warm and content. “Best decision I made today,” you whispered, your heart swelling with affection for him as the movie continued to play in the background. Felix, with his ribbon and his smile, was all you needed in that moment.

seungmin

It was a quiet afternoon in the park. The weather was perfect—cool with a gentle breeze, and the soft sounds of children playing and birds chirping filled the air. You and Seungmin were sitting on a bench near a pond, enjoying the calm atmosphere. He had brought along a book, but you had found yourself distracted, leaning back and soaking in the peaceful scene around you.

As you sat beside him, your fingers absentmindedly ran through the small bag you’d brought along. That was when you noticed it—a soft, pastel ribbon you’d picked up from a craft shop earlier that week. A soft smile crept onto your face as an idea formed.

You glanced over at Seungmin, who was still quietly reading. His biceps were subtly flexing under his fitted T-shirt, and the thought of adding a cute, little accessory to them suddenly seemed like the perfect idea.

“Seung,” you began, your voice light and teasing, “can you do me a favor?”

He looked up from his book, his expression one of mild curiosity. “Hmm? What is it?” His tone was relaxed, not expecting anything unusual.

You held up the ribbon in front of him, trying to hide your excitement. “Can you tie this around your bicep?” you asked, your voice playful. “I think it’ll look cute on you.”

Seungmin blinked, clearly caught off guard. He stared at the ribbon for a moment, then looked back at you, slightly confused. “A ribbon? Around my arm?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Why would I do that?”

You pouted, trying to hide your disappointment. “I just think it would be fun,” you said, a little quieter now. “You’d look cute.”

Seungmin frowned slightly, not quite sold on the idea. “It just seems... kind of silly,” he muttered, glancing at the ribbon again. “I don’t know if I want to do that.”

The playful energy you had a moment ago quickly shifted. You felt a little disappointed, even though you knew it wasn’t a big deal. You had just hoped it would be a fun moment to share, but now Seungmin seemed unsure, and you couldn’t help but feel a little deflated.

Noticing the change in your mood, Seungmin's expression softened, his gaze flicking back to you. He realized he might have come off a little too harsh, and seeing the slight sadness in your eyes, he quickly sighed, setting his book aside.

“Okay, okay,” he said, giving you a small but warm smile. “I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to wear it for long, alright?”

You perked up instantly, your smile returning. “Really?” you asked, your tone filled with excitement. “Thank you, babe!”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the small smile on his face. “I don’t get why you like these kinds of silly things, but…” He grabbed the ribbon from your hand and wrapped it around his bicep with exaggerated care, making sure it was tied just right.

Once it was secure, he flexed his arm just a little, showing off the ribbon in a way that almost made you laugh. “How’s that?” he asked, his voice a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment. "You happy now?"

You couldn't stop smiling. He might have been reluctant at first, but he still looked amazing with the ribbon on his arm. “You look great,” you said with a grin, reaching out to gently adjust the ribbon. “I told you, it’s cute.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow but couldn't suppress a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But if it makes you happy, I guess I’ll wear it for a little while.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It makes me very happy,” you said softly, your voice warm with affection. “Thank you for indulging me.” He chuckled, clearly feeling a little more at ease. As you sat together, the ribbon still around his bicep, you felt the warmth of the moment. It wasn’t just about the silly request—it was the way Seungmin always cared enough to make you happy, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone for a moment. And that made the simple gesture so much more special.

I.N

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you and Jeongin were relaxing at his place. You were lounging on the couch, enjoying the quiet, while he had been fiddling around with his phone. The windows were open, letting in the soft breeze, and the world outside seemed to slow down as you two enjoyed the calm.

You were absentmindedly scrolling through your own phone when your eyes fell on the small ribbon you’d brought with you. It was a simple, pastel blue, just the right size to fit around a bicep. A playful idea crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, babe," you said, glancing up at him, a teasing grin on your face.

He lowered his phone and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s up?” he asked, clearly curious.

You held the ribbon out between your fingers. "Can you tie this around your bicep?" you asked, your tone light and playful. "I think it’ll look cute on you."

Jeongin’s eyes lit up immediately, and a cocky grin spread across his face. He leaned back on the couch, puffing out his chest a little. "A ribbon?" he repeated, clearly liking the attention. "You want me to wear a ribbon around my bicep?"

You nodded, trying to keep your grin in check. "Yep, exactly that. I think it'd be cute, and I wanna see it on you."

He let out a small laugh, the kind that hinted he was already feeling a little too proud of himself. "Oh, so you want me to show off these bad boys, huh?" he said, flexing his biceps a little and making them bulge impressively. "I mean, I have been hitting the gym with the guys a lot lately. All those extra sets are finally paying off."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Okay, we get it," you teased, giving him a playful push. "You’ve got muscles. Can you just put the ribbon on already?”

Jeongin chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention. "Oh, I’m just getting started," he said, looking down at his arms and admiring them as though he were in front of a mirror. "You know, I have been getting stronger, so now I’m basically a walking advertisement for all my hard work."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure, sure," you said, amused. "Keep flexing. I just want you to tie the ribbon on so I can see how ridiculous you look with it."

Jeongin’s grin widened, and he leaned forward to take the ribbon from your hand. "Fine, I’ll humor you. But just so you know," he said as he carefully wrapped the ribbon around his bicep, making sure it was tied perfectly. "I’m not just doing this for you. It’s a chance for me to show off my gains."

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic tone. "I can see that," you teased, playfully eyeing him as he flexed again to show off the ribbon. "Are you going to wear it like this all day, or do I have to deal with the gym bro attitude the whole time?"

He turned to face you, flexing his arm dramatically, showing off the ribbon now adorning his bicep. "You think this is a one-time thing?" he asked, clearly enjoying how ridiculous and charming he looked. "I’m about to start a new trend. Who wouldn’t want to wear a ribbon with these muscles?"

You rolled your eyes again, though there was a smile on your face. "You’re such a show-off," you said, leaning over to adjust the ribbon just slightly, your fingers grazing his skin. "But you look good, I’ll admit it."

Jeongin puffed his chest out even more, giving you a proud look. "Of course I do. You’re welcome," he said, his voice oozing confidence. "You’re lucky I’m letting you see all this muscle right now."

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I’m lucky, huh?" you said with a playful smirk. "I’m the one who gets to see you all flexing over a ribbon, looking like a total goofball."

Jeongin just laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. "Anything to make you smile," he said, softening a little despite the cocky attitude.

You snuggled into him, smiling. "I think you’re cute no matter what," you said, enjoying the warmth of his arm around you. "But this just makes you even more ridiculous, and I love it."

Jeongin grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, his voice softening despite his earlier boastfulness.

—

asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!

[bearforcecaptions]

The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!

I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.

And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.

I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.

Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-

Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.

“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.

He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”

“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.

He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”

“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.

“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”

He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”

We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.

“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”

“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.

Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.

[silcoitus]

Could you write a (young)Silco/Disabled Reader, who for the most part is able to walk just fine with the help of a brace but on bad days they’ll bring out the cane and on really bad days a wheelchair but is still insistent on trying to do things no matter how much they shouldn’t?

I tried to be as sensitive as I could towards reader's disability. I hope it comes across sincere and that I haven't committed any faux pas. If I have, please let me know in the comments and I will happily revise. Like young Silco in this fic, I will quickly apologize and learn if given the opportunity.

A Voice Like Yours

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Mature

Tags: gn!reader x silco; disabled reader; Silco; Felicia; Connol; Vander; Benzo; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort;

Word count: 3.5k

Beta reader: @juniper-sunny

You would've liked to get to the market sooner, but getting out of bed was particularly hard today. Typically, you're able to handle just fine with only your brace. And when that doesn't work, your cane will usually suffice. But with rough sleep last night and a flare-up this morning, you opt for using your chair today to get to the market. Just until you can get your bearings again.

With your later arrival, you're unable to beat the morning rush, sandwiched between what seems like every citizen of the Undercity. Most give you a wide berth, but others shove past you unceremoniously. You're used to it by now, but your fatigue plasters a permanent scowl on your face as you try to find your usual vendors.

As you make your way through your shopping list, the bag sitting on your lap getting slightly heavier with each new stall you visit, you feel a bit better. (You used to keep your bag slung over the back of your chair, but stopped when some asshole stole it.)

You're on the last item on your list when you get settled in front of one wooden stall and make small talk with the shopkeep. He greets you by name and grabs your usual order, setting it down on the counter before turning his back to fix something. You try to reach for your purchase, but it's just a touch too far. You're about to move your chair closer when a stranger waltzes up and plucks the bag off the counter.

“Hey! That's mine!” you protest, rolling closer to him.

“I know,” he replies, handing it to you. “I was just getting it for you.”

You snatch it and shove it into your canvas bag, still frowning at the tall, slender man with long raven hair. 

“I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own.” You grab your wheels and in one fluid, practiced motion, reposition your chair away from him. You start to leave, but pause, looking over your shoulder. “I don't need your help.”

Out of your periphery, you see him raise both hands in surrender, but from this angle, you can't tell if his expression is sincere or sarcastic. You try to shake it off, ready to go back home and wash your hands of the interaction. 

The Undercity is supposed to be the city of self-reliance.

So why does everyone still treat you like a child?

The following day fares better. You bring your cane (just in case) for your shift at the shop, settling into your stool at the cash register. You're reading a book during the slower hours when a customer comes in and sets a stack of papers down onto the counter. Your eyebrows furrow at the flyers and you lift your eyes to see a familiar face.

“If it's alright, I'd like to add these to your bulletin board,” the man from yesterday says, not even looking at you. He leans on the counter, looking out the large windows to the street. “Got a meeting coming up and want to get the word out.”

Finally, he turns to you.

You watch as his face cycles from apathy to confusion to recognition. His eyes dart down to your stool and the surrounding area, seemingly looking for your wheelchair. When he comes up empty, he looks back up to your face, head tilting to the side.

“I didn't need it today,” you preemptively answer. “Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he's quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to insinuate—”

“That I'm faking?”

“No! Never!” he says, hands coming up in surrender, again. His shoulders sag forward slightly and he runs his fingers through his hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I'm sorry, can we start again?”

He puts his hand out. You eye it warily.

“Hi, I'm Silco.”

Your lips thin, but you take his hand.

“Hi, Silco.” You give him your name.

“I would like to put these up on your bulletin board,” he says, nodding to the corkboard behind you.

You put your hand out.

“Only two,” you instruct. “One here and the one in the back.”

He starts to hand you the flyers, but then pulls back.

“I can put up the one out back,” he offers.

“It's fine,” you say, insisting with a gesture of your hand. “I can do it.”

Silco looks at your hand then up to your face, understanding slowly spreading across his features. He nods, mostly to himself, as he hands you the papers.

“Of course.”

You take one flyer and a thumbtack from the corner of the board, stabbing it in place with a bit more force than necessary.

“You should come,” Silco says from behind you. “We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Just think about it,” he says softly, gathering the pile of papers. With a small, almost apologetic, smile, he leaves.

You lift the remaining flyer, scanning it.

Children of Zaun 

Town Hall

Wednesday 

4pm

The Last Drop 

“Hey, Monte?” you call out. “If it's okay, I think I'm gonna head out a little early.”

Your boss peeks his head out from one of the aisles, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose.

“That's fine,” he reassures you, calling your name. “We're pretty slow today; I can take it from here.”

You take your cane from behind the counter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!”

You make your way to The Last Drop, having spent a couple days wrestling internally about whether or not to go. You had heard of the Children of Zaun, but not really given them much thought. From what you'd heard, they were a ragtag group of misfits posing as rebels, claiming to want independence from Piltover. You had rolled your eyes in disbelief at the notion. Besides, you have plenty of your own concerns to worry about; it's not as if you have time to take up some righteous cause.

But Silco's words ring in your ear, propelling you forward.

“We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”

What did he mean by that? “Like yours”—what’s that supposed to mean? So they want some sort of token disabled person on their crew to make them look better or something?

But the sincere remorse on his face and the softness of his tone told you otherwise. 

Maybe he meant it.

Maybe he does actually want to hear what you might have to say.

So you walk up to The Last Drop, hand clutching your cane, holding it less like a walking stick and more like a blunt force weapon (which it has had to be, on occasion). Taking a deep breath, you pull your shoulders back, and push open the door.

You're by no means early, but there's no way this is the entire gang. You can count on exactly one hand the number of people that showed up. There's Silco, standing with his back to you, what looks to be a couple sharing a table, and then two larger men standing by the bar. You're immediately filled with regret and start to turn back around, until you hear someone call your name.

“You came!” Silco says, more excitement in his voice than you'd expect. “Hey, this is who I told you about.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to you and you feel rooted on the spot.

You shoot Silco a look.

He told them about you? What could he possibly have said?

He gestures you forward, leading you to the couple at the table. You take one of the empty seats and Silco sits in the one next to you. He leans forward, one forearm barred along the wooden surface as he addresses the couple.

“I told you we were missing something,” he starts. “That this—” he gestures to the group, forefinger pointed and moving in a circle, “wasn't enough.”

That same forefinger comes down, tapping incessantly on the table.

“If we're to be the voice of Zaun, we need to make sure that everyone has a spot at the table.”

The woman glances at you before turning back to Silco, nodding slightly as she speaks.

“Okay…” she nods a little more, as if the thought is taking root in her head. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She turns toward you. “My name is Felicia and this is Connol,” she says, leaning her head toward the man next to her. 

“Felicia. Connol. Nice to meet you.”

You shake hands with both of them.

“Would you like a drink?”

You pull your lips through your teeth and Felicia is quick to reassure you.

“Don't worry; it's on the house.” She straightens up, calling out to the large man behind the bar. “Vander! Some beer!”

“Get it yourself!” he calls back.

“Fuck you,” she laughs.

“Oy,” the other man says, bringing a tray over. “Watch yer language ‘round the new recruit.”

Felicia laughs.

“They’re an adult, Benzo; they can handle it.”

You look back at her and she offers you a smirk. You take the free mug of beer and Silco raises his up in toast.

“To the Children of Zaun.”

Felicia and Connol mirror the movement.

“The Children of Zaun!”

You lift your glass and say the words, though you don't take them to heart just yet. But as you bring the mug to your lips, you can't help the small smile from creeping onto your face.

Every Wednesday, you leave the shop to go to the bar. And every Wednesday, you become a little more smitten.

With the cause.

With the man that introduced you to it.

The more you get to know Silco, the more you realize your first impression of him wasn't a good representation of the man he is. 

Or, perhaps, maybe it was the perfect representation.

A man who only wants to help, eager to uplift those around him. So excited to do so that he steps on a few toes in the process. He's stumbling and clumsy with his help, but he's quick to apologize and quick to learn. 

It doesn't take long for you to realize—he’s that way with everyone. It wasn't just you and it wasn't just because you're disabled. He's always on alert for if someone could use a hand, always first to arrive when someone asks for assistance. That's just who he is.

And if this is one of the rebels trying to uplift the Undercity, the Nation of Zaun is in good hands.

Silco is keeping you company at the shop, following you around as you restock some items. He carries a crate of goods while you arrange them on displays, your discerning eye careful to make them look as appealing as possible.

You drop one of the small boxes and Silco is quick to bend down to grab it.

“Silco,” you warn, “What'd I say about helping without being asked?”

“Sorry, right,” he says, straightening up to let you retrieve it. “Force of habit.”

You grin up at him, chuckling. “I'm just fucking with you.”

With some assistance from him, you get out of your wheelchair and resume your place at the cash register. Silco takes the opportunity to sit in your chair, long fingers fiddling with the wheels. You laugh as he tries to maneuver the chair around the front of the shop.

“Have you learned any tricks on this thing?” he asks, trying to lean back and balance it so that his feet lift off the ground.

“It's a wheelchair, not a skateboard, you jackass.”

“That's a ‘no’ then,” he says, smirking. But the smirk is wiped clean off his face when the chair tumbles backwards, sending him crashing to the floor.

You let out a bark of a laugh at that, laughing even harder when he starts to groan.

“Serves you right!” You grab your cane, gingerly getting off the stool to help him back up. “If you broke my chair, I swear to Janna… Do you know how hard these are to get? I had to pay so much coin for it.” 

You point your cane at him threateningly, but he wraps his fingers around it and tugs, pulling you forward. A startled squeak at your throat, you fall on top of him, catching yourself just in time so you don't headbutt him.

“Silco—”

“Now we're both down here,” he teases, smirking.

“Wonderful,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “What a masterful plan.”

Something sparks behind Silco's ocean green eyes, something playful, mischievous.

“I'll say it is.”

And with that, he lifts his head, closing the distance between your lips. Your eyebrows lift and your eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours. His hand comes up to tenderly cradle your face and you lean into the kiss, pressing your chest to his so you're flush with him. You don't know how much time has passed, but as you kiss him, you feel as light as a cloud, until—

“Hey!”

You straighten up, face red with blush.

“I don't pay you to swap spit with the customers,” Monte says, but there's no bite to his words. “Get up before someone trips on you.”

You laugh, pressing your forehead to Silco's. 

“Here.” You push yourself up, offering him a hand. “Let me help you.”

It’s been a while since you’ve had a friend group like this. Ever since the accident that caused your disability, no one seems to have the patience to deal with your rougher days, as if you’re holding them back.

It’s hard to not internalize that feeling.

But with Silco and the rest of the Children of Zaun, you feel different. Whereas before, it felt like your mere presence was a burden, you feel seen and appreciated. You feel heard.

When you tell Vander that the bathroom stalls are too tiny for your chair, he knocks the dividers down to make room.

When you lament about the small step outside the front door, Benzo throws together a small wooden ramp. 

More and more, The Last Drop feels like home, though going to the basement or the upstairs office still eludes you. It’s not that you can’t. It’s more that you’re worried that you’ll have to ask for help to get you back on the ground floor should you get stuck in either place. But, there’s never really been any reason for you to visit either floor, so you’re content to stay in the main bar area, occasionally ducking into the back room when the crowd gets a little too loud.

It’s on one such trip to the storage room that Silco finds you, huddled on the floor, your cane propped up next to you. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your palms pressed flat against your ears, trying in vain to drown out the sounds of the bar. You had made the mistake of visiting during peak hours and didn’t have the energy to go all the way back home. You thought you could power through it until the customers dwindled, but it became too much. So, you retreated to the back room, holding back tears.

“We have one more!” Silco calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, talking to Vander who tends the bar. “After this, we’ll need to get more.”

He turns over his shoulder to see you on the floor. Immediately, his voice lowers and he crouches down to get eye level, your name a reassuring coo on his throat.

“Hey… are you okay?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“Okay, just… give me a second.”

You hear him pick up a crate of bottles. The door swings open, letting in the raucous noise from outside. You let out a whimper as the door swings closed. After a few tense minutes, the door opens again and you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Hey, I’m back,” Silco coos. There’s shuffling as he moves to sit next to you. “What do you need?”

It’s a sentence you practically trained him to ask. With his tendency to charge forward offering the help he thinks you need, you managed to finally get him to learn to ask you first. 

It’s a small gesture, but at this moment, it’s everything.

“I need…” Your breath is shaky, your eyes holding back tears. “I need quiet. And— And it’s too far to walk home.”

Silco shifts, moving to crouch in front of you, hands on either of your shoulders. He squeezes them and you look up to see a tender expression on his face. Not pity or condescension. Concern. Sincere, genuine concern.

“It’s much quieter upstairs in the office,” he offers. “Do you think you can make it?”

Your lips tighten. It’s hard to think with so much noise; you can barely hear your own thoughts. It doesn’t help that you can feel a flare up coming on, pain shooting through your legs.

“I… I don’t know.”

You watch Silco chew on the inside of his mouth, thinking. 

“I could… carry you.”

You shoot a look at him, equal parts indignation and humiliation.

“I know, I know. It’s not ideal.” He looks around the storage room as if he’ll find an alternative answer. “But the sooner we get you out of here, the sooner you can feel better.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, wrestling internally. The sting behind your eyes is threatening to push past your defenses. Finally, wordlessly, you nod.

“Okay,” he says, tone firm. 

His ocean green eyes dart around your body, trying to figure out how best to pick you up that keeps your dignity intact. But before he can reach a decision, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to yourself, holding him in a tight embrace.

“Oh! Hey…” He melts into the hug, bringing both arms around your back, squeezing you gently. “It’s okay.” He rubs your back with one hand, palm warm against your shirt. “It’s okay. We all need help sometimes.”

“I did too much today,” you say into the crook of his neck, tears escaping your eyes. “I should’ve stayed home.”

“Shhhh…” he shushes, shifting his arms as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you along. 

You manage to get to your feet, but your legs feel wobbly and unstable under your weight.

“Here, let me…” Silco bends down and hangs your cane over the crook of his elbow before bringing one arm behind your knees. “On three. One… two… three.”

You lift your legs up and he scoops you up in his arms, straightening to a stand. Instinctively, you wrap both your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“I got you,” he coos. “I’ve got you.” He takes one final look around the room before pushing the door open with his back. “We’ll go behind the bar; no one will even know.”

You nod, tears flowing in earnest now to stain Silco’s shirt.

You press one ear to the crook of his neck, trying to dampen the loud voices of the bar patrons. At that, Silco walks a little faster, making his way up the staircase. In his haste, he drops your cane on the landing.

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll go back for it,” he says, continuing forward.

After opening the door and carefully depositing you onto the plush red cushions of the couch, he darts out the door, returning with your cane in hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of you before sitting next to you.

“There.” He rubs your hip as you lay on your side. “Is that better?”

You nod, reorienting yourself to rest your head on his lap. Silco settles on the couch, bringing one hand to your head, smoothing down your hair in soft reassuring strokes. His other hand grazes your cheek, wiping away your tears.

It’s finally quiet.

Your legs still ache, but it’s not as bad as it was before. You can feel the rise and fall of Silco’s chest against your back, his breathing a calming rhythm.

“Thank you, Silco,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he whispers back.

After a moment, he shifts, bending down to bring his lips to your temple. You smile at the touch, feeling warmth settle behind your ribs.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve never heard you apologize before and I don’t want to hear it now.”

The firmness in his voice has you turning your face to look up at him. There’s a resoluteness in his expression, a confidence you typically see reserved for Children of Zaun meetings. He looks off into the distance, as if seeing something that’s not there. A vision. A promise.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continues. His chin dips and his ocean green eyes find yours. His eyebrows lift and his lips curl into a soft smile, full of pride and affection. “You’re perfect.”

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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[ktsumu]

18+ NSFT MDNI. POLY MATSUHANA. ALCOHOL.

“What do you mean you don’t like making out?”

Makki looks at you like you’ve betrayed him, on his side of the couch with his half-full beer can in hand. “That’s the best part!”

You shrug. “Dunno. Just never been with the right person, I guess.”

“That’s some bullshit. Guys don’t even know how to kiss a girl right? We used to hunt, you know—“

“Makki sucks at it, too,” Issei chimes, leaning against the other end of the couch with his own can half-empty. He nurses it in one hand, lazily plays with a curl in the other. “Can’t say shit.”

“What the fuck? I’m such a good kisser,”

“You—“

“Wait, why do you know how good or bad he is?” you ask, turning towards Issei on your left.

Over your head, he and Makki share a grin.

“Actually? Forget I asked.”

“Don’t be green, friends kiss all the time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You slide your back down the couch, crossing your arms over your chest as you focus back on the movie playing on the TV. Your cheeks feel hot.

You’re aware of their legs craned out to rest on the coffee table, a set on either side of you. You’re watching them out of your line of view, but when Makki’s head cranes back over the couch to look at the man to your left, you lose track of them.

They’re bickering, you can tell. Issei keeps breathing out little laughs and Makki’s making obscene hand gestures, shaking the cushions when he tries to reach behind you and smack him.

It’s the fifth time the couch jerks that you groan, pushing yourself back upright to break them up.

“Can you not?” you groan. “I’m trying to finish the movie?”

“I’ll stop when he admits I’m not a shit kisser.”

“Too much tongue, babe.”

“I was drunk!”

You swallow. “You’re probably both good kissers, okay? Settle it at that.”

They quiet after that.

The room gets quiet, save for the wind coming through the window and the movie playing still. There’s a steady picking on fraying cushion behind you, no doubt from Makki’s antsy hand.

“You think we’re both good?” Issei prods.

“Sure. Whatever floats your guys’ boats.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“How would I know, Issei?”

The three of you— you’re close enough friends by now that silence is rarely awkward, but you’re not dumb. You know what hole you just dug.

Dig your grave and lie in it, or whatever.

“You wanna find out, then?” he asks, maybe a little quieter if you’re paying close attention.

Makki is hot against your other side, leaning ahead to see the both of you as good as he can. You slink back a little into the sofa— you’re in deep literally and metaphorically.

Issei slips his hand up your leg, watching your lips part the second he sets his eyes on yours. It stays on the backside, coming back up to skip over your ass, resting on your back.

His other hand is hot on the side of your face, tilting your chin up so you’re almost touching him.

“Can I show you something?”

You huff a quick breath, and nod even quicker.

Issei takes you whole, it doesn’t feel like just a kiss. It’s not just lips, even though it starts that way— it’s a graze of his teeth against your jaw before he steals your breath away that makes you slump down the couch, an exchange of power that gives your all to him.

He’s languid and slow, tongue taunting yours and his hand dauntingly large on your side. Makki’s slips beneath his and then under your sweater, nails scratching beneath your navel as they span over your skin.

You forget to breathe. He tastes like espresso and a good time. You lose track of whose hands are which. You don’t know anyone but them. You forget any other lips who have ever tasted yours.

When you reach up into his hair, knotting your knuckles in his curls, Makki takes the back of your neck and pulls you back. You’re looking at Issei, but he doesn’t look mad.

He’s smiling. You blink. You’re looking at Makki, now, and he’s smiling too.

“My turn?” He says it like a question. He might be saying it like he’s begging.

Makki moves so he’s just about on top of you, coming from above when you lean your head back to see him from below. He’s quicker than Issei, hard against your teeth and against your thigh, dizzying in how he pushes and pulls, rutting against you like he’s always wanted this.

Issei tugs your leg over his, smoothing his hand up the inside of it, skipping over where you’re too sheepish to say you want it.

It rests on your stomach, fingertips dipping beneath your waistband as Makki groans so low it vibrates in your throat. They’re playing give and take with you, back and forth like magnets, closing in and giving you space again like a corset.

Issei’s hand cups your chest and Makki’s rests on your throat. You’re being swallowed whole, and all you want them to do is spit you up and do it all over again.

Then, the storm breaks, and when you come to, they’re starry-eyed and staring at you.

“What?” you gasp.

You turn your head back and forth, looking between them like you’re checking your blind spots. You still think somethings gonna come out of nowhere and hit you; bring you back to reality.

“Nothing,” Issei shrugs. But, he leans back. “Do you wanna stay overnight? Save you a drive in the dark.”

They surround you. They encapsulate you differently, like smoke and water. You’re hot and all too aware of the things you’d say yes to.

Makki’s fingers burn against your shoulder, dragging the collar of your top down your collarbone as you nod.

Issei grins, cheshire and warm. “Mm, good.”

[faithshouseofchaos]

Hi, could I request Mick Schumacher or Esteban Ocon with an autistic reader please?

.

Microfiber is icky — Esteban Ocon x gender neutral!reader

Word count

Fluff

A/n— based on my dislike of microfiber

Y/N was busy tidying up the living room, humming softly as they moved a stack of books from the coffee table to the shelf. Everything was going smoothly until their hand brushed against the dreaded microfiber cloth resting on the arm of the couch. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming—like tiny dry needles against their skin.

They recoiled, dropping the cloth as a shiver ran up their spine. Shaking their hand as if to rid themselves of the memory, they muttered under their breath, “Why does that feel so awful?”

Before they could process further, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. Esteban appeared in the doorway, his expression alarmed. “Mon cœur, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless, as if he’d sprinted from the other side of the house.

Y/N blinked, startled by his urgency. “Oh, nothing! I just touched that microfiber cloth, and it felt… funny.” They shuddered, rubbing their fingers against their shirt to chase away the lingering sensation.

Esteban tilted his head, concern lingering in his dark eyes. “Funny how? Did it hurt you?”

Y/N shook their head quickly, feeling their cheeks warm. “No, no, it didn’t hurt. It’s just—it’s hard to explain. It’s like… slimy plastic, but dry. I hate the texture. It’s just gross.”

For a moment, Esteban stared at them, his face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, his lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. “That’s it?”

“Hey, it’s not funny!” Y/N protested, crossing their arms as heat rose to their face.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Esteban said, stepping closer. He reached out and gently took their hand, his thumb brushing over their knuckles. “I just wasn’t expecting that to be the problem. I thought you were hurt.”

Y/N sighed, feeling both sheepish and a little touched by his reaction. “I’m fine, really. It just caught me off guard. But seriously, microfiber? Who thought that was a good idea?”

Esteban chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a wave of comfort through them. “Noted. Microfiber is officially banned from this house.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I’m serious,” Esteban interrupted, his tone light but determined. “Anything that bothers you, I’ll handle. No microfiber, no problem.”

He turned, picked up the offending cloth with two fingers as though it were toxic, and tossed it into the trash can with exaggerated care. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics.

“You’re ridiculous,” they said, but their voice was soft, filled with affection.

Esteban grinned and leaned down to press a quick kiss to their forehead. “Ridiculous, maybe. But I mean it. You shouldn’t have to deal with things you don’t like if I can help it.”

As Esteban stood there, looking entirely too proud of himself for banning a cloth, Y/N felt a swell of gratitude. It wasn’t just the big gestures that made them love him—it was these little moments, where he made them feel seen and cared for in a way no one else ever had.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Rollo Flamme: A Heart's Warmth

Hello ♡ So I've never written for Rollo before, but I got this cute idea for him that I thought would be fun to write. Hopefully you guys like it! Enjoy ♡

Glances and hesitation, walking side by side. The air is cold, yet he feels warm, much too warm as your shoulders brush. He had warned you of the chill coming, weather growing colder as the seasons changed. Yet you didn't listen, neglecting to wear suitable clothes. Where was your winter jacket? Where were your gloves? He should have sent you home, should have told you to come back once you were better dressed. But the way your eyes lit up as you met, coming towards him as if he was something to look forward to… he found the words wouldn't leave his mouth, stuck like his eyes, glued to your features. Do you glance at everyone with that smile, with eyes that shine in adoration?

He turns away when it gets to be too much, unable to meet your stare for long. You were bright, much too bright to linger on, your voice ringing in his ears like chimes. Did you really enjoy his company that much? Speaking to him with such joy, with care meant for those close. Even now he can see you shiver, ill prepared for the day ahead. Was it worth it? Did time with him mean so much?

... He would prefer if you took care of yourself, especially if it involves him, unwilling to allow you to use this outing as excuse. He tells you as much, reminding you to dress appropriately next time, and confirming you had the necessary clothes. If you have gloves, wear them. If you have a winter coat, wear it. You're only going to get sick if you don't... (and that's the last thing he wanted, watching as you tried to hide another shiver).

Your shoulders brush again, causing him to look between you as your hands touch. While he wore gloves, your hands were bare, exposed to the elements. He knew you must have been uncomfortable, the temperature continuing to drop. Perhaps he could... no, he couldn't possibly, shaking his head at the thought. There was no way he could-

And then your hands touch again, shoulders brushing once more as he starts to reconsider. Perhaps he could... his hands starting to shake as he contemplates the idea. With how close you were, he could always make it seem like an accident, waiting until your shoulders brush once more. When the moment doesn't come his eyes narrow in frustration, working up the nerve to put his plan into motion.

"Dress more appropriately next time..." He reminds you again, his hand shaking as it slowly moves closer to yours. When your hands touch he moves away quick, as if burned, before trying again.

"The last thing you need is to get sick." He finishes, turning away as your hands touch once more. You can feel him shake as his pinky moves to hold yours, the warmth of his wool gloves feeling good against your skin. It wasn't much, more of a subtle warmth really, but your chest burned, knowing how much he cared ♡

Hopefully this was good for my first time writing him lol ♡

Thank you! ♡

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I had this cute idea and I wanted to write it down, hope you like it!❤

Endless Affection

The sound of the door opening always makes my heart skip a beat. It’s like the whole world pauses, waiting for him to walk in. I barely hear the shuffle of his boots before I’m already moving, practically bouncing as I rush toward the entryway.

“James!” I call out, grinning as his familiar figure comes into view. He’s still halfway through shrugging off his bag when he looks up, his face lighting up as soon as he sees me.

“Babe,” he says softly, his voice carrying that warmth I’ve missed all day. Before he can say anything else, I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. He chuckles, his arms closing around me instantly.

“Miss me much?” he teases, his voice muffled against my hair.

“You know I did,” I mumble, hugging him tighter.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hazel eyes full of that familiar sparkle. “You know,” he says, his lips twitching into a smile, “this? Right here? This is the best part of my day.”

“Is it now?” I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice soft but firm. He suddenly steps back, spreading his arms wide. “Come on, Babe. Want another hug?”

I laugh, rolling my eyes, but before I can respond, he swoops in and picks me up, spinning me around like we’re in the middle of some romantic movie. “James!” I squeal, clinging to him even though I can’t stop laughing.

When he sets me down, his grin is boyish and proud. “See? Can’t beat that,” he says, leaning in to press a quick, playful kiss to my nose.

I shake my head, smiling like a fool. It’s always like this when he comes home—full of warmth and these little rituals that make me feel like the luckiest person in the world.

As he gets ready to head back out for work, I find myself following him like always, lingering at his side. He’s tugging his coat on, and I can’t resist stepping in to help. I smooth the fabric over his shoulders, fixing the collar with the precision of someone who has done this a hundred times.

“There,” I say, tilting my head as I give him a quick once-over “Perfect.”

“Thanks, Babe,” he says, his lips quivering into a soft smile. But I’m not done. I lean up on my toes, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek before pulling back just enough to reach for his hair. My fingers ruffle it lightly, and I can’t help but giggle at the way he scrunches his nose.

“Hey!” he protests, his voice full of mock indignation. “Not the hair!”

I shrug, grinning mischievously. “Oh, come on. You love it when I do it.”

He tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Maybe,” he admits, his hazel eyes twinkling. “But don’t push your luck.”

He rolls his eyes playfully but doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Have a nice day at work,” I whisper, my voice soft but full of meaning.

“Thanks, Babe.” His voice is just as gentle, and I feel a little ache in my chest watching him grab his bag and step out the door. The sound of it clicking shut behind him leaves the house feeling too quiet.

But, like always, I can’t help myself. Before I know it, I’m slipping on my slippers and stepping outside. He’s already halfway to his car when he turns back, his eyes finding mine almost instantly.

When he sees me, he stops in his tracks, his lips curving into that heart-melting smile of his. “Babe,” he calls out, shaking his head fondly.

“What?” I ask, grinning as I step closer.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he jogs back to me, his steps quick and purposeful. Before I can say anything else, he’s cupping my face in his hands and kissing me like he’s been waiting all day for it.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against mine. “You don’t have to wait for me like this, you know,” he says softly, his voice full of that teasing affection he does so well.

“I know,” I say, blushing a little. “But I want to. I like seeing you off.”

He stares at me for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest gently on my shoulders. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs. His words make my chest flutter, and I can’t help but smile.

I tilt my head, giving him a soft smile. “You’re so sweet.”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. “If I could, I’d stay here with you all the time. I wouldn’t leave—ever.” His voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes my chest flutter.

For a moment, I just stare at him, caught in the intensity of his words. Then a playful idea sparks in my mind. “Well,” I say, my smile turning sly, “how about tonight? We could stay in, cuddle up together... all night long.”

His face softens, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Babe, that’s a perfect idea,” he says, leaning in to press a tender kiss to my lips. “I can’t wait to cuddle you, and maybe… we can do something else” he adds with a playful wink.

“James!” I gasp, my face flushing bright red. “You—”

 I swat at his arms, but then, in mock exasperation, I add, “You’re unbelievable!”

He chuckles, holding up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I was just offering a suggestion!” he says, still laughing. “You know I can’t resist you.”

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms with a dramatic sigh. “You’re impossible,” I tease, my voice filled with mock frustration. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s always pushing things too far.”

James grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you don’t want to cuddle me tonight, then?”

I pause, pretending to consider it for a moment, tapping my chin dramatically. “Hmm, well... maybe just a little cuddling. But only because you’re so irresistible.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. “Lucky for you, I’m always irresistible,” he whispers with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah,” I laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Keep telling yourself that.” I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably as I feel my cheeks warm from the playful teasing.

James pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. “You know you love me,” he says, his voice playful but sincere.

“I do,” I admit, resting my head against his chest. “But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

“Oh, I can’t help it,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “You’re the one who loves me this much.”

I roll my eyes again, though it’s hard to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re lucky I do, James.

He steals one more kiss before pulling away, and this time, I’m the one giving him a little push toward his car. “Now go,” I laugh. “You’re going to be late!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. But as he walks away, he throws me one last glance over his shoulder.

With a cheeky grin, he pretends to blow me a kiss.

 And don’t forget,” he says, blowing me a kiss. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

I catch the kiss with both hands and blow it right back to him. “Hurry up, or you’ll  be late” I tease, though my heart is already counting down the hours until he’s back home.

He laughs too, shaking his head as he finally climbs into the car. As he pulls away, I watch until his car disappears down the road, my heart feeling full and light all at once.

I already can’t wait for tonight.

[supernotnatural2005]

Imagine sending Jensen a thread of filthy texts whilst watching him perform a gig 👀

AN: This was purely based off of this gif set. Because hot damn!!! 🥵🥵

Warnings: Language, suggestive texts, smutty thoughts - 18+ ONLY

Main Masterlist

Jensen's Masterlist

You stood at the back of the crowd, figuratively keeping your head down as you quietly supported your boyfriend’s band, Radio Company. 

Jensen had a lot of fans, even in your hometown of Austin, and you wanted to keep a low profile so as not to draw any attention to yourself. You were not a celebrity by any means, maybe now by proxy because of your relationship with him, but still, you liked to maintain your privacy. 

Jensen just handled the attention better; he was a natural. Maybe it was for the fact he’d been in the limelight for the better part of over 3 decades, but you think it was also because he was just so genuine. You truly admired him for it. Supernatural had created such a loving and welcoming fanbase that exceeded even beyond the show's eventual end. 

It was incredible to witness and even be a part of for the last few years. So it was no surprise to you that they would support him with his other talents. 

You watched on in astonishment, as per usual, as he sang the last lines of their song—Drowning. One of your personal favourites because it showcased just how beautiful Jensen’s voice really was. He never ceased to amaze you, even now, nearing the 4 years you’d been together.

However, you too enjoyed keeping him on his toes. It was only fair. Though, the way he looked up there, glistening with sweat from his efforts and from the August heatwave up here in Austin; his sleeveless arms gloriously tanned and toned, his longer locks damp and slicked back with a casual hand and bearded jaw. He was only to blame for what you did next. 

You pulled out your phone as the band took a mini break to take a drink and talk to the crowd and opened your text thread with Jensen. 

‘You have no idea how hot I am for you right now.’ 

‘What I’d give just to kiss you, to touch you, to taste you.’ 

‘I’m so wet for you I can feel it between my thighs, every time I move.’ 

‘I wish you could come find out what you do to me.’

The words kept coming, flowing through your thumbs as you tapped away at the keyboard, sending one after the other, getting filthier and filthier with each one. 

‘Fuck, I’m so horny I’d let you fuck me in the restroom after your set.’ 

‘Would you like that baby?’

‘Feel your big cock slip so easily inside me?’

You bit your lip, blushing at your boldness and the increasing wetness between your legs. You were only torturing yourself at this point, but as you looked up, you saw your boyfriend’s frown and him reaching for his phone in his jeans pocket. 

Your heart began to race, heat, other than from the warmth of the room, licking up your spine, tingling your fingers through to your toes. You watched his face go from confused to bewildered to mad. His jaw ticking and the tightening grip on the device were telltale signs you’d pushed his buttons. 

His eyes flicked quickly to where you stood in the back, flipping you off with a look that would only intimidate the unexpected. But you knew differently. That was a look that said, “You’re going to be punished for that when we get home.” The thought alone sent another thrill of excitement through you.

AN: oof 🥵😅 just a quick little impulsive imagine that hit me. But can you blame me! Look at him! 😍 (also as a side note: i have nothing against his wonderful family, this is just purely fiction.) As always, feedback is much appreciated! 💕

[act-nat-ural]

5+1

Five times Shoyo Hinata thought of confessing his feelings to you and the one time he did.

1. Early in the school year, during practice:

Hinata and Kageyama were desperately working to improve their quick set. They were practicing their timing, making sure everything was perfect. You, one of the team managers, were already busy packing up the equipment and about to help Yachi fold the net.

Hinata was trying to focus, but every time he glanced at you, keeping his mind on volleyball was hard. The way you moved, your laugh, how you always kept everything organized—he couldn't help but admire how effortlessly you balanced everything. There were times he caught himself wishing you were paying more attention to him rather than the volleyball itself. But he never said it aloud.

2. Late-night studying with you:

Hinata was struggling to concentrate on his textbooks. He yawned and rested his head on the desk. You were sitting across from him, helping him out with his studies, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting a warm light on your face.

“Sho, if you want to pass your exams, you’re gonna have to lift your head,” you teased with a smile.

He whined but reluctantly sat up, blinking to stay awake. As he glanced at you, something felt different. It wasn’t just that you were pretty—he had always thought you were. Tonight, though, there was something about the kindness in your smile, the way you didn’t shout at him like his other tutor, and the way you looked at him that made his heart beat faster.

“Is there something on my face?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes widened, his face burning. “No!” he stammered, immediately looking down at his notes to avoid eye contact. But his mind kept drifting back to you, and he struggled to focus on the work in front of him.

You chuckled and slid a little closer to him, sitting beside him on the couch. “You don’t have to act all shy, Shoyo. You’re gonna pass, I promise.”

He managed a weak smile, his heart racing. It was one of the times he almost blurted out how much he liked you, but it felt so sudden, and he didn’t have the courage to say it.

3. After the big match:

The team had just won an important match, and the gym was buzzing with excitement. Hinata was practically bouncing with joy, high on adrenaline from the victory. As the players gathered to celebrate, he noticed you at the side, smiling and clapping for the team.

His heart fluttered. He wanted to run up to you, tell you how amazing you were for always supporting them, but the words never quite came out right. He caught your eye and grinned, but the moment passed too quickly. Still, in the back of his mind, he thought about how perfect it would be to confess to you after a big win.

4. Your birthday:

It was your birthday, and the team decided to throw a small surprise celebration after practice. The gym was decorated, and everyone gathered around to sing happy birthday to you. Your face lit up, and Hinata couldn’t help but watch you with a soft smile. There you were, the person he had been thinking about for weeks, standing in front of everyone, glowing with happiness.

He was almost certain that this was the perfect time to tell you how he felt. It was your special day, after all. But when he saw how happy you were with everyone around you, he decided to keep his feelings to himself. He didn’t want to spoil the moment. Instead, he gave you a small, shy birthday wish, his heart pounding in his chest as you thanked him with a warm smile.

5. Going to a movie together:

A few weeks later, you suggested going to see a movie. Hinata eagerly agreed, though he couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. This was the first time the two of you would hang out outside of volleyball practice, and he didn’t want to mess it up.

Sitting in the theater, the lights dimmed, and the movie began, but Hinata could barely focus on the screen. Every time you laughed at something, his heart skipped a beat. The way your eyes lit up with excitement, the way you nudged him when something funny happened, made his stomach flip.

He thought, This is it. I want to tell you now. But as the credits rolled and you both stood to leave, he realized he was still too shy. Maybe next time, he thought.

6. Walking home together:

The cool night air surrounded them as they walked home side by side, the silence between them comfortable yet filled with unspoken words. Hinata’s heart pounded in his chest. He had been trying to summon the courage to tell you how he felt for what seemed like forever.

Finally, after a few minutes of walking in silence, he stopped, turning to face you. “(Name),” he started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

You looked at him, your expression soft. "What is it, Shoyo?"

He took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting nervously. "I… I like you. I think I’ve liked you for a while now."

You paused for a moment, looking at him with understanding. Then, with a small, gentle smile, you spoke. "I know."

Hinata froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You… you knew?”

You chuckled softly. "Yeah. I’ve noticed how you act around me. You don’t have to say it, Shoyo. I like you too.”

His heart soared. "Really?"

You nodded, taking a step closer. "Really."

And just like that, all the tension in his chest melted away. The nerves, the fear of rejection—it all vanished. He grinned, his cheeks turning a little red as he realized that, despite everything he had feared, you felt the same way.

For the first time, he felt truly confident in his feelings, and with you beside him, walking home under the starry sky, he knew this was only the beginning.

note: sorry I forgot to post this last night :( my bad. Thanksgiving break is almost here so expect some more posts!

[silluuuu]

Keep you safe and keep you dreaming

hi friends! wrote a quick lil sickfic for ficwip's 1000-word challenge (write a fic with exactly 1000 words) that doubles as a gift to my no-longer-sick friend @anxietybard!! thank u to @toweroftunes for the beta!! pls give it a read under the cut or on AO3 <3

She hates when he’s sick, and he can’t help feeling guilty about it.

Soul tosses another tissue into the trash-can heap, watching as it tumbles down the mound of bunched-up microbes and nestles itself against the rim. He lets out a sigh that is noisier than usual, mucus corroding the sides of the exhaust pipe that is his throat.

He understands the root of her discomfort, of course. It’s not so much the present cough and sniffles as it is the memories it brings back. It’s the past that eats at her soul, for lack of a better word. Because when he’s sick, she makes herself sick with her own consumption, her own acidic bile of regrets. He knows what she sees, when he’s lying in his own bed in the apartment: the Soul of ten years prior, bedridden and feverish in an infirmary cot, looking like the first cut into an ultra-rare steak.

He tries to remember this, to empathize with this, when she’s being the way she is now, three hours deep into a WebMD rabbit hole and shoving both remedies and conspiracies in his face.

“An orange is a perfectly reasonable thing to eat when you’re sick!” she’s saying from the foot of his bed, holding a plate with a full-on pyramid of them balanced in her left hand, the other hand defensive on her hip.

“S’not the idea of oranges that’s unreasonable, it’s the fact that you’re giving me twelve ,” he grits out. He wants to lie back dramatically, but he’s too clogged up to do so. 

Many moons ago, he would’ve thought of the orange onslaught as a thinly-veiled attempt to keep Blair out of his room, having heard way too many warnings and factoids about cats and their aversions to citrus over the years. As if on cue, Blair yells out a grateful “Thaaank you~!” from the living room, her keen nose having registered the oranges’ absence.

Years prior, Blair would have been way too happy to ‘play nurse’ for him in his vulnerable state - something that had always irked Maka, obviously. To be fair, he sort of feels like having someone lie in bed with him might be pretty helpful for his recuperations, though he has a strong first choice for this assignment, and it certainly has never been Blair.

“Twelve oranges might be good for you!” Maka insists, pinking in the cheeks at his mental suggestions. Their link is always more open when he’s sick; it takes too much effort to keep his walls up that he doesn’t want to expend, and all she usually hears is vague sniffling and doom-and-glooming, so. “Besides,” she adds, suddenly serious. “Scurvy’s making a comeback.”

“You think I have scurvy? ”

“I’m just saying that an orange or twelve couldn’t hurt!” she exclaims, moving to place the plate on his bedside table. He snatches his phone off its charger just in time to avoid death by Annoying Orange, and makes good use of it to pull up the symptoms for scurvy.

As he scrolls, he starts to grin. “Hah. Maybe I caught it from you.” At her curious glance, he adds: “Apparently one of the main symptoms of scurvy is being chronically irritable.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes at him as she exits. Guilt renewed, he sends out an apology on the airwaves, one that she meets with a brush of mental fingers.

M’not going anywhere, okay? he thinks, sending the words through the gap in the door, a love letter. Promise.

There’s a sound like a sigh in her soul, followed by a montage of emotions. An old, deep, burning fear. An undying flame, smothered by time, suddenly reborn. And then - relief. Comfort. And then… guilt of her own, for being the one who needs the comfort.

Go sleep s’more , she thinks back, voice growing weaker as she heads deeper into the house. I’ll be here when you wake up.

The reciprocal I promise that she tacks on is a mere whisper of a thought, but he hears it nonetheless. It’s an effective anesthetic, lulling him into a nap.

He dreams of orange peels and dark cathedrals, the old ache across his ribs tugging at something still-unhealed in his psyche.

When he awakes, it’s to a new smell - a bowl of chicken soup, steam rising and catching the late afternoon sunlight through his window. Next to it, a cascade of saltine crackers arcs along the accompanying plate. A mug of tea sits at its side, steaming slightly as well. The oranges are still there, moved slightly back. She’s left him a tiny space on the table for his phone to sit, which he sheepishly plugs in.

He reaches out for the soup and takes a sip, the ache in his chest slightly soothed. He smiles a little, savoring it, taking in the quiet of the room, the way the steam clears his head, opens his sinuses.

Once he’s almost done, the door clicks open - she’d felt him wake up, of course.

“Is it okay?” she asks.

“S’delicious,” he says, clearing his throat a little.

“Good,” she says, business-like, taking the empty bowl and placing it on the table. And then, slightly less businesslike: “Can I come in?”

He looks up at her, gaze soft as he takes in her embarrassment, as if they haven’t been doing this for years. “Duh.”

She lifts the comforter and clambers in, getting settled and resting her head on his chest.

“You sure you wanna stay?” he asks after a few minutes, poking at her shoulder. “Might get sick.” “S’worth it,” she mutters, ducking her head. “Besides. I’ve had plenty of vitamin C.”

“You sure?” he asks. “Got some oranges I could lend you.”

She scoffs in response, squeezing at his side. 

For the rest of the afternoon, they lie wrapped in each other, comforted by the fact that, amidst the steam and the scent of oranges and the promise of not going anywhere - that suddenly, it’s slightly easier to breathe.

[thebdsmsofurlife]

Confessions of a Manipulator

It was almost too easy.

It usually is. It’s not hard when you know what to look for. The insecure ones. The ones looking for approval from an authority figure; desperate for approval, attention, acceptance.

Speak kindly to them. Show interest - but not too much interest. Don’t make it look like you want anything from them. You want to give the appearance that you’re casually surprised to see her again but you can’t hide the flash of excitement - the physical confession of how impressive she is - that crosses your face.

Then slowly insert moments of intense attention. A couple minutes of utter focus, like you’re hanging on her every word. Nothing in the world is more interesting to you than what she will say next.

Then move on. Have a few days where you’re just so busy. Smile and wave but keep walking. You’re not giving her the cold shoulder, you’re not an incel trying to “neg” her. You’ve got a life, you’re busy, you’re focused on other things.

Make her crave your attention. Make her obsess over what she can do to get more of it.

Sure there are quicker ways to get some women into bed. But I wasn’t after a quick half hearted fuck followed by a couple awkward conversations.

I wanted her to give herself over to me completely. I wanted utter control. I wanted her to sacrifice her self respect at the alter of my acceptance.

It took six weeks, from the time I decided I wanted her until I invited her to my house so I could cook her dinner.

She came over dressed to impress. High heels, a cute little skirt, a tight top. She looked beautiful, absolutely stunning - and I told her so.

A nice meal. A couple glasses of wine. A long conversation mostly focused on her. It was a great date.

By the end I knew a couple more dates like that and she’d eagerly jump in my bed. But that wasn’t enough. I needed to push her boundaries. I needed her to hate how much she loved what I’d done to her, so the next time she came over she would consciously sacrifice a piece of herself, knowing what would happen once she got there.

I walked her to the door with my hand on the small of her back. I waited until she was a step from the door before I spun her, pulled her to me, and kissed her.

After a startled hesitation she kissed me back. It was sweet, intense, passionate. I pulled her body into me, my hands sliding over her back. I slid a hand up her body to the back of her neck. I stepped into her, bodily pushing her back against the door.

My hands slid down her waist, over her sides, brushed against her breasts. It wasn’t until I reached for the buttons on her shirt that she broke of our kiss.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m not …”

I cut her off with my mouth on hers. I got three buttons undone before she broke the kiss off again and grabbed my hands in hers.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not ready.”

I smiled at her. “Yes you are,” I said. “You just don’t know it yet.” I held her hands in mine and lifted her arms above her head.

She tried to resist a little - or maybe it was a lot for her. It’s hard to tell as she isn’t very strong.

I held her arms up and kissed her neck.

“Stop,” she said. “Please.”

Between kisses I murmured, “I can’t. I want you so much. I’ve wanted you so long.”

I grasped her wrists with one hand and slid the other down her body to her thigh. I ran my hand up the back of her leg, pulling her skirt up as I went, and cupped her ass. I pressed myself against her, letting her feel my excitement.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whispered.

I kissed her neck, down between her breasts, up her throat. When I tried to kiss her lips she turned her head, so I kissed her cheek.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promised, “but I have to have you. I can’t help it. Just let me take you.”

I tasted a little saltiness on her cheek. I think she might have been crying. I don’t know. I kind of stopped paying attention to her reactions. I was lost in the moment.

I pulled her over to the couch, pushed her down on her back, and climbed on top of her. I pushed her legs apart with my knees and pressed myself against her as I started kissing her again.

This time she didn’t fight me when I unbuttoned her shirt, nor when I pulled her bra down to get to her breasts. I kissed a line down her neck, over her shoulder and down to her breasts. I covered her breasts with little sucking kisses, ran my tongue in little circles around her nipples, while grinding myself against her.

I lifted my body off hers enough to undo my pants and pull out my dick. I was so hard I ached. I just wanted her so much.

I kissed my way back up her jaw while wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck. I slid a hand between us and pulled her panties to the side, working myself into position.

“I love the taste of your skin,” I murmured as I pressed my cock against her entrance. She was so tight and wet - probably against her conscious desire. I worked myself into her slowly, letting her adjust to the feel of me inside her.

I wrapped my arms around her head and pressed my lips against her ear. “You feel so fucking good,” I said. I slid inside her gently. Every few strokes I pushed myself completely inside her and ground myself against her.

We made love like that for several minutes, me kissing her cheek, nibbling on her ear. And this time, when I went to kiss her on her lips she didn’t turn away. I guess she knew it was going to happen so she might as well give in to it.

As I kissed her I started working myself inside her faster. Thrusting and grinding, not trying to split her in two, but enough to show how much I wanted her.

When she moved her hands to my back, and started gently rubbing me, I knew she’d already given a little bit of herself. The thrill that went through me - I can’t even describe it.

But I wanted more. I needed to push her further.

I pulled myself out of her and climbed off the couch. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her off as well, setting her knees on the floor. I stood over her and cupped her face with one hand. When I pressed my dick against her mouth she slowly parted her lips.

She closed her eyes when I pushed myself into her mouth, but she took me none the less. I held her still with a hand on the back of her head and started to thrust into her mouth. Her tongue slid down my shaft as I pushed at the back of her throat. I didn’t push hard enough to make her gag - there was plenty of time for that later. I just thrust into her mouth, strong but gentle thrusts.

I was already close to the edge at that point and it only took 3 or 4 minutes until I was ready to explode.

I think she realized it too - I guess my grunts gave it away. I could see it on her face, like she was preparing herself for me to cum in her mouth.

But at the last moment I pulled out. I held her head still with one hand and finished myself off with the other. I cursed as I came, unloading on her face and chest. I threw my head back and groaned as I covered her, the release was so fucking intense.

It was a terrible thing to do to her, I know. Humiliating. Shameful. But I’d kept my promise. I hadn’t hurt her. It was a gentle debasement.

I looked down at her and smiled. “God, you’re beautiful,” I said as I looked at her cum covered face. “You’ve never looked prettier.”

I cupped her face with my hand and brushed my thumb over her cheek.

“You’re stunning,” I said. “Absolutely perfect. Turn around. I’ve been dying to taste you.”

She looked up at me completely bewildered. So I took her hands, lifted her to her feet. Gently, but firmly I turned her around, pushed her forward so she was kneeling on the couch and bent her over so her face was pressed into the back cushion.

I scooted back a bit to give myself room and pushed her skirt up over her hips. I slid my fingers into her panties and pulled them down to her knees slowly. I ran my hands up and down her legs, over her ass, feeling the softness of her skin.

“Fucking perfect,” I growled.

I squatted down behind her and kissed the back of her thighs. I kissed up one leg and down the other. I wrapped my hands around her thighs and pulled her legs apart.

I planted my face between her legs and started licking her pussy. I ran my tongue between her lips, over her clit. I kissed and sucked her folds between my lips.

I explored her with my mouth, my tongue - eager to give her pleasure. I murmured and growled how good she tasted. I slid a hand between her legs and spread her so I could taste ever part of her.

I wanted her to feel good. I wanted her to enjoy it, to think back and remember how it felt. I wanted her to know that even though I brought her so low, I took time for her pleasure. I wanted to teach her to begin to crave more despite herself.

I enjoyed her like that for several minutes before narrowing my focus on her clit. I opened my mouth wide, spread my tongue flat and lapped her like a man lost in the desert finally finding his oasis.

It didn’t take long like that before she gave into the feeling. She started to rock her hips and make this low groaning-purring sound. I kept my rhythm steady, pressing in, reaching out to fondle his breasts as I continued licking her pussy.

She let out a near scream as her entire body tightened like an electrical current had run through her, constricting every muscle. I lapped at her until her body relaxed and she breath slowed to a deep, heavy pant. I kissed her pussy, the inside of her legs and over her ass.

I stood and ran my hands up her back to the back of her head. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and gently turned her face toward me.

Her eyes were closed so I said, “Look at me. I want to see those beautiful eyes.”

She did. She looked me in the eye for only a moment before looking away, but I swear in that moment I saw a flash of every emotion known to man. Her conflicted emotions were an exquisite sight.

I leaned over and kissed her, long and hard, letting her taste herself on my lips and tongue. As I did I started rubbing my dick against her pussy.

After a couple minutes I straightened and positioned myself behind her. I slid myself back inside her and held myself still, buried to the hilt.

“God,” I groaned. “I just can’t get over how good your pussy feels.” I slid my hands around her and grabbed her breasts as I began to thrust into her again.

I was not as gentle this time. I wanted to see just how far I could push her, how much she could handle. I wanted a clear baseline to compare with how far down the rabbit hole I’d take her.

I started thrusting into her harder. Standing straight, I held her still with a hand holding her hip and started pounding into her.

“Spread your legs,” I commanded. And when she hesitated I slapped her on the ass. “Spread them.”

She did, shifting her knees a little further apart.

I slapped her ass again. “Wider.”

She moved her knees some more. I slapped her ass again. And again. She spread her legs as far as they’d go, straining against the panties still wrapped around her knees.

“Fuck. Good girl” I said. I held her hips tight and slammed into her, our bodies slapping into each other’s in a beautifully sharp rhythm. “Fuck,” I said again. “That’s how you take a dick. That’s how you take a fucking.”

I reached forward and grabbed her by her hair. I turned her face toward me again and told her to look at me.

“That’s right. Look me in the eye while you give me this pussy.”

She lasted just a moment before she closed her eyes again. It was enough though. I wanted that image burned into her brain. I wanted her to remember looking back at me, looking me in the eye as I railed her. I wanted her to wonder if she had actually given me her pussy or if I had taken it. I wanted her to doubt herself.

I pulled her head off the back of the couch and turned her sideways. I climbed on my knees behind her, pushed her face down into the seat and shoved my dick back into her.

I fucked hard, slamming into her with her face buried in the cushions and her ass in the air. I bunches her skirt up in my hand and used it as a handle, pulling her back to meet me with each thrust.

I was close to cumming again and I slammed into her harder and harder. Her knees gave out and she fell down flat on her stomach. I rode her down, fucking her flat, holding my self up with my hands on her shoulders. Her leg slipped off the couch and her entire body almost followed along, but I held her in place and kept pumping until I exploded, filling her push with my cum.

I collapsed on top of her, a panting sweaty mess. Once I’d caught my breath I gently brushed the hair from her face. I kissed her cheek lightly.

“God you’re beautiful,” I said. “Stay with me tonight. I want you to stay the night. I’ll cook you breakfast in the morning.”

There was a long pause before she whispered softly, “ok.”

I smiled to myself. God, this girl had no idea what she was in for. She had no clue just how far she’d end up sinking for me.

And it’d been so easy.

[mee3pp]

farmhouse pt9

Cw: swearing, father daughter verbal and physical fight (not abuse)

“Wow ya didn’t strike me as an artist” You hum taking a bite of the sandwich as you sit across from Johnny. The Cafe is the perfect amount of quiet and busy so it’s not too awkward but also you can hear your thoughts.

“I wouldn’t say I’m an artist lass, i just like drawin’” Johnny chuckles sipping his coffee. His sentence makes you scoff because the pictures of his drawings that he showed you are beautiful, stunning even. “Bullshit mate ya drawins’ are amazin” You gleem. Johnny grins at you, he’s not really listening to you more admiring your beauty and he can’t lie if he said he wasn’t hard as a rock right now. You’re absolutely stunning with your rough features that you no doubt got from your father. Those cold commanding eyes that soften when you’re around your loved ones it’s something so captivating about them.

Your heart sinks when you hear the faintest sound of the all too familiar voice of Simon. Who is supposed to be keeping your father busy. Holy shit are they coming closer?

“Johnny…” You hum trying not to panic “did you also hear Simon? Or was that just me?” You say your rough cockney voice going up a few octaves. Johnny and you freeze when you both hear your father and Simon enter the coffee shop thankfully you two are seated at the back. “Fuck” Johnny whispers. You manage not to panic as you hope they won’t spot you.

Well your prayers and hopes weren’t answered because unfortunately your father turns around and looks up making direct eye contact with Johnny. His eyes harden when he recognises that all to familiar hair of yours and that little squeak you make. Price slowly approaches the table “Johnny please don’t tell me you are on a date with my daughter” Price says holding in all his anger because he’s out in public. “Ahhh….errr…” is all Johnny can get out before you whip your head around. “Piss off” you hiss.

“I told you two to stay away from each other, especially you John” Price growls as he stands infront of you and Johnny on your gravel driveway outside your house.

“And I told you we are adults” You growl back. Simon and Johnny would be lying if they said you both were fucking scary right now. “He’s my soldier who is no good for you” price says pursing his lips. “I don’t care” you Growl balling your fists and stepping closer. “You’re a fuckin bad man John you can’t even follow simple instructions” Your father growls at Johnny as he tries to move towards your beloved Johnny you side step blocking him. “Uh ah, I’m the problem here you ain’t focusing on him” You hiss your father’s fists ball up too. Once again you are both toe to toe snarling and growling.

“I can go on dates with Johnny if I want. I ain’t a little girl for fucks sake” You snarl “I ain’t even fuckin him, we shared a bed ONE time when we were shitfaced” that makes your dad even angrier. It usually wouldn’t but you and Price have the same temper… extremely short and explosive. You both inch impossibly closer to each other. “You’re fuckin disobedient John, you’ve crossed a line now” Price hisses towards Soap. That’s what blew you over the edge you were the first to swing taking a quick step back before swinging at him and of course your dad swings back hitting you in the face. This happens about two swings more before Simon and Johnny pull you off each other. “Wot the fuck?” Simon yells as he holds back Price and Johnny holds back you. Your father and you are both now sporting bloody noses and a split lip on your end and a nice incoming black eye on his end.

You both are dragged inside into separate rooms to ice your wounds. “What the actual fuck was that?” Soap asks as he looks at you. You shrug putting the ice to your nose. “Ain’t the first time, Prices aren’t known for a great temper”.

“Yer can’t go fightin’ yer own dad Bonnie” Soap sighs kissing your forehead. “He had it coming that bitch”

[ I feel like this wasn’t long enough but oh well 🤷‍♀️]

Taglist:

@tabbslouuformer

@thepowers-kat-be

@amberpanda99

[fantasystrangers]

“Heh. Cookie nicknames.” Fíann gave an amused chuckle. “You’re sweet.” She leaned her head on Chiasa’s shoulder. Just like a cookie. “And as warm as a cookie fresh out of the oven, too.” For a few minutes, she leaned against the other woman, not moving an inch, letting her forever tense body and constantly running mind relax.

“I have my lows. If you get to see one... know it’s not on purpose. I get mood swings, and I go from thinking I’m the best to, well, fucking hating myself. When I’m not feeling empty, that is. That was why I took up music and art. They helped fill the emptiness.” Fíann looked up at the opposite wall that had two paintings of the sea on it.

“Same goes for me.” Deeds over words. But the fact that, so soon after they had first talked (at least to Fíann it felt soon), they had gotten here... well, Chiasa wouldn’t have trouble winning Fíann on her side.

She laughed again. “Glad you see something attractive about all of this chaos.” If Chiasa looked more carefully at the paintings, she would notice they had been done in bold, quick strokes, and, like the sea waves depicted on them, felt charged with emotion. “Cute... hm, I guess you could call all the seashells cute. I was going more for cozy.”

Now this she could work with. “There was no way for you to know this. I should have told you.” Fíann stared down at her hands. “But some neighbors proved they had their reasons to have taken a side, and it wasn’t mine. And that made living there more of a hassle than it needed to be. I had to take measures.” She let her eyes close as she had some more tea, raising her mug... and upon putting it down, both the mug and its contents, just like her hand, were covered with ice.

“And then, this is only my side of the story. People have their own ways of seeing this.” Fíann turned hovered her hand over the mug, and the ice melted, then the water droplets it had turned into evaporated. “Not everyone takes kindly to my kind.” The next time her eyes met Chiasa’s there were webs between her fingers and scales on her face - her face back to normal as quickly as her tea.

“If anything, sea-folk are emotional. And if you gain their trust, it won’t be taken for granted.” And then there was that smile again. It wasn’t wide, but Chiasa would be able to see it reached her eyes. “Glad you like that mug. I have a dozen more, but I thought this one would fit you,” Fíann chuckled.

[deathbxnny]

Arcane women accidentally confessing to you. | Sevika, Jinx, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

This is very self-indulgent, so enjoy.<3

Content: pre-season 2 because I want to be happy rn, slight angst if you squint, fluff, accidental confessions, maybe ooc??, cursing, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She was resting at the last drop with you during some downtime in between missions. One hand lingered on your hip whilst her metallic one held onto her cigar, eyes focused on the pocker game she was playing with a couple of Silco's other henchmen. She always kept you close this way, a clear sign of who you belonged to despite never having said a word about it yet. It was a mutual understanding only you could have, and so she didn't think a confession was necessary.

Until today, it seemed.

You were secretly helping her cheat a little and eventually told her the winning move, which earned her a large sum of money. Letting out a smug laugh at everyone's angered and defeated glares, she gave you a lazy grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. This is why I love you." She hummed to you, smoke exhaling from her dark lips, before she froze ever so slightly. Well, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise to either of you, and yet she couldn't help but chuckle at your own stunned face.

Looking at the men around her, she threw some poker chips towards them, clearly asking for another round. She wasn't the type to get flustered or shy anyways, so her moving on like nothing happened was on brand.

The only acknowledgment you got, however, was the hand on your hip tightening.

》JINX

She has a hard time hiding her feelings for you due to her rather energetic and extremely clingy nature. But there is still a clear distance between you two that she's too scared to cross. It was a deep fear of ruining everything she had with you in case her confession went wrong. She'd rather you consider her your best friend for life if it meant for you to stay at her side. She didn't want to lose more people after all. And yet, as fate has it, she eventually lost herself in a good and happy moment with you.

You were tinkering on some projects in her hideout whilst listening to music. Her head was leaning against your shoulder as her eyes traced your focused gaze. Jinx felt so content and at peace in that moment that she couldn't stop the words that spilled out of her mouth. "I love you." It took her a second to realise what happened, and her body was quick to flinch away from you. You kept her in place, however, with a free hand placed against her head. "Hey, it's okay. I love you too. I'm not leaving." You reassured her quickly with a smile, one that made her heart skip a beat.

She may not see herself as deserving of you, but she's glad to have you at her side anyway. Hopefully forever.

》CAITLYN

Caitlyn was good at hiding her emotions from you. In fact, she had refused to tell you in fear of breaking the professionalism you two had and, most importantly, your friendship that she cherished deeply. And so, she was very careful not to reveal a single thing... until her confidence betrayed her and caused her to slip up.

You two were reviewing a new case together, and whilst she wasn't paying attention, she accidentally slid you her diary over. It unfortunately looked too similar to her work notebook, something she only realised the moment you opened it and froze in surprise. She may have scribbled your name all over it. She may have childishly drawn hearts around your name. She may have made it awfully clear that she loved you. And it made her wonder if there was a god out there that hated her deeply.

"... My apologies. Please ignore that-" "-Haha, I'm so relieved that I'm not the only one who did this!" You let out a soft laugh before pulling out your notebook and showing her similar pages to her own, just with her name written all over them. Her face was flushed from how flustered and embarrassed she was, but alas, she too couldn't help and chuckle at how silly this all was. At least you felt the same.

》VI

It's not like she didn't want to confess her feelings to you. She just didn't know how! Her confession should sweep you right off your feet in her mind, and yet nothing she came up with seemed good enough. Vi hoped that her flirting would get the point across, but she lacked the confidence to go any further than compliments. She just didn't want you to think differently of her and therefore kept her distance for the most part regarding the subject. That is if she could keep it in for lobger than she already has. She always felt so strongly about others, after all.

So, during a little hang out session in a bar somewhere in Zaun, she attempted to find the courage to tell you how she felt. Whilst she went off to go and get you a drink first, however, a drunken man showed up at your side and started flirting you in a rather uncomfortable way. You tried making it clear that you weren't interested, but as he went to grab your arm, a hand slammed in between you two onto the bar table. "Hey, I think they told you no, asshole." "Who the hell are you?" The man barked back, yet Vi didn't back down and simply blocked you from his view with her body. "I'm their girlfriend, now fuck off." She hissed, and the man just rolled his eyes before walking off grumbling.

Silence filled the space in between you two until you chuckled softly. "Girlfriend, huh? I like the sound of that." You hummed, secretly trying to ease her embarrassed mind, that quickly recovered at your words with a sly grin. "You do?" You mirrored her smile with a nod. "Very much so. I'm glad we think alike."