#if you watched him without knowing anything about him

[solaceseven]

you storm out in the middle of an argument

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader, toji x reader

GOJO - the second you stormed out, gojo was right behind you.

you heard his footsteps almost immediately, quick and determined. of course, he wasn’t going to just let you go—not without a fight.

“leave me alone, gojo,” you snapped over your shoulder, picking up your pace.

“nope.”

you groaned. “i need space.”

“i need you to not walk around alone at night,” he countered, effortlessly keeping up.

you whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “i can protect myself.”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know you can. you’re strong, way too strong for me, honestly—i think about it all the time, actually, how you could probably throw me into the sun if you really tried—”

“gojo.”

“right, right, focus.” he exhaled. “i know you can handle yourself. that’s not the point. i just—please, come back home.”

you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. gojo loved your stubbornness—adored it, actually. but right now, he just wished you’d listen to him.

when you didn’t say anything, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “come on—don’t make me get on my knees.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would. right here. in the middle of the street.”

you rolled your eyes, turning to keep walking. when you finally took in your surroundings. without even realizing it, you’d walked all the way to a 7-eleven.

gojo followed your gaze, then brightened immediately. “oh? a sign from the heavens?” he turned to you with a grin. “ramen?”

you sighed, and gojo, ever the opportunist, pressed on. “my treat.”

“you always pay,” you deadpanned.

“exactly! so, technically, i didn’t even have to say that—but i did, because i’m a generous and loving boyfriend.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “…yeah, okay.”

gojo beamed like you had just accepted a marriage proposal. “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you shot him a glare, but he just threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you inside like you hadn’t just been arguing minutes ago.

as he grabbed entirely too many snacks, sneaking extras into your basket with a shit-eating grin, you felt the weight in your chest ease just a little.

you weren’t done being mad at him—not completely. but as he stood beside you at the register, arms full of junk food, nudging you with his elbow like a lovesick fool, you realized—

yeah. you’d be okay.

GETO - suguru doesn’t stop you.

not because he doesn’t care—no, quite the opposite. he watches as you grab your coat, as you storm out, and he lets you go. he knows you need space, and he respects that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to find you.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the frustration from your argument still lingering, but eventually, you find yourself stopping by a quiet street corner. you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to steady your thoughts—

and then you hear it. a smooth, familiar voice from behind you.

“you’re really making me work for it tonight, huh?”

you whip around, only to see geto standing there, hands tucked casually into his sleeves, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

you glare. “how did you even find me?”

he tilts his head, amused. “you’re predictable.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “if you’re here to drag me home, don’t bother.”

geto steps closer, slow and easy. “i’m not dragging you anywhere.”

you raise an eyebrow. “then what do you want?”

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “you’re upset. i get it. but you know i hate leaving things like this.” he steps beside you, hands still tucked into his sleeves. “so, i figured i’d come find you.”

you don’t answer right away, staring at the ground. then, without warning, your eyes begin to sting. you blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but it’s too late—geto sees it instantly.

his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders vanishing in an instant. before you can turn away, he’s already in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks with the kind of gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to him. “don’t cry.” his thumbs brush lightly under your eyes, catching the first traces of tears. “look at me.”

you do, even though it only makes your throat feel tighter.

his brows furrow, guilt flashing across his face. “i’m sorry, okay?” his voice is soft, sincere. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you swallow hard, blinking up at him. “…you were being an ass.”

a small, breathy chuckle leaves him. “yeah,” he admits. “i was.”

you sniff, and he immediately wipes away another tear before it can fall, his touch warm and steady. “but i didn’t mean to be,” he continues. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

geto exhales, relief evident in his expression. his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“come home?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance away, mumbling, “still mad.”

“i know.” his lips quirk into a small smile. “you can be mad at me at home, too.”

a pause. then, finally—

“okay.”

he doesn’t say anything, just lets his forehead rest lightly against yours for a moment before taking your hand in his, squeezing it once before leading you back home.

NANAMI - the argument had left a bitter weight in your chest, one that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to. the walls of your shared home felt too tight, too suffocating, so you did the only thing that made sense—you grabbed your coat and walked out.

you didn’t have a destination in mind, just the simple need to move, to put some distance between you and the words that had been thrown too carelessly.

at first, you thought you were alone. but then, a few blocks in, you heard it—steady, familiar footsteps trailing behind you.

you sighed. “kento.”

a pause. “hm?”

you turned slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. sure enough, he was there. hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, but present nonetheless. he didn’t try to walk beside you, didn’t call your name or tell you to come home—he was just there.

“you don’t have to follow me,” you muttered.

nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie as he kept his pace behind you. “i know.”

and yet, he didn’t stop.

you didn’t push him away, either.

the night air was crisp, the streets quiet save for the occasional car passing by. you walked, and he followed. neither of you spoke. the argument still lingered between you, raw and unhealed, but for some reason, his quiet presence made it easier to breathe.

eventually, your feet carried you to the park. it was empty this late, just dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. you found yourself heading toward the swing set, your steps slowing as you lowered yourself onto one of the swings. the chains creaked slightly under your weight.

nanami hesitated for only a second before taking the swing next to you. he didn’t say anything, just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed ahead.

the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… there.

after a long moment, you broke it.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” your voice was quieter than you intended, but you didn’t correct it.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he let out a slow breath.

“yeah,” he said, firm, certain. “we’re going to be okay.”

and for the first time since the argument, you let yourself believe it.

SUKUNA - the door had barely swung shut before you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

you had barely made it down the front steps when a clawed hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

sukuna’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unrelenting. “where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, edged with something unreadable.

you didn’t turn to face him. “i need to cool off.”

his fingers twitched against your skin. “tch. you can cool off inside.”

you exhaled sharply, attempting to pull away, but he didn’t let you. his grip remained steady, grounding. “i don’t want to be inside right now, sukuna.”

“and i don’t want you wandering off alone.”

you finally turned, eyes burning with frustration. “i can take care of myself.”

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his crimson gaze. “i know you can.” his tone softened, just barely. “that’s not the point.”

silence settled between you, tense and heavy. the night air was cool against your skin, the world around you quiet. your breathing was uneven, your heart still pounding from the argument. you wanted to be stubborn, to keep walking just to prove a point.

but sukuna didn’t let go.

for a long moment, he just looked at you. not with anger, not with amusement—just quiet, unreadable intensity. and then, after a sigh that sounded almost reluctant, his grip loosened. his hand slid down to take yours, fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt less like restraint and more like holding on.

“come back inside,” he muttered. his voice wasn’t commanding, not like before. it was something else. something almost pleading.

you hesitated, still upset, still wanting to fight. but his hand was warm, solid, there. the fight had drained out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

after a long pause, you sighed, giving his fingers a small squeeze before turning back toward the house.

sukuna didn’t say anything, just followed beside you, his hand never leaving yours. when you stepped inside, he made sure the door was locked behind you, his movements slow, deliberate. neither of you spoke as he guided you toward the bedroom, the silence no longer suffocating but something quieter, softer.

the argument wasn’t over. you weren’t ready to let it go. but as sukuna’s grip lingered, steady and sure, you knew—

you two were going to be okay.

TOJI - toji doesn’t follow you. at least, not right away.

he watches as you storm out, jaw clenched, arms crossed, your anger still crackling in the air like static. he lets you leave, doesn’t call after you, doesn’t chase you down. he just sits there, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

but after a few minutes, he clicks his tongue, grabs his jacket, and heads out after you.

he knows you—knows you’re stubborn, knows you need space, but he also knows it’s late, and he’ll be damned if he lets you wander around alone.

it doesn’t take long to find you. you’re sitting on a bench at some quiet little bus stop, arms hugged around yourself, your knee bouncing impatiently. toji exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over.

you glance up when he steps in front of you, glaring. “go away.”

“not happening,” he says flatly.

you scoff, turning your head. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“good,” he deadpans. “cause i ain’t here to talk.”

you blink, caught off guard, looking at him. he just shrugs. “you needed space, so i gave it to ya. now i’m just gonna sit here and shut up.”

and with that, toji plops down onto the bench next to you, spreading his legs wide, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nah.” he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “go on. be mad.”

you are mad. but suddenly, it feels a little ridiculous.

the two of you sit there in silence, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. the weight of the argument still lingers, but toji’s presence, solid and unshaken, makes it feel smaller. like it’s not going to swallow you whole.

after a while, he cracks an eye open, side-eyeing you. “you done sulking yet?”

you huff. “i’m not sulking.”

“yeah, yeah.” he stretches, rolling his shoulders. “c’mon. let’s go.”

you hesitate. “i dunno…”

he stands up, glancing down at you. “i’ll buy you food.”

you squint. “bribery?”

toji smirks. “call it what ya want. just get up.”

you sigh, but when he holds a hand out to you, you take it. his grip is warm, steady, and when he tugs you to your feet, he doesn’t let go.

“where are we going?” you mumble.

“dunno.” he shrugs. “we’ll figure it out.”

and somehow, that’s enough.

[trivia-yandere]

ok head me out…jungkook…who happens to be your brothers best friend…are you catching what im saying???

well why the fuck not? off limits

he’s a 10 but…he’s your brother’s best friend & completely off limits.

word count: 3.118

warning: smut, little plot fr fr, age difference (like 3 years), fingering, unprotected sex, alcohol intake, oral sex (f/m) creampies, dirty talking,

“Did you know?” you asked Jungkook, head pressed against the cold window. Your eyes watch as the world passes by in a blur with the speed in which he’s driving. Your mind is a mess, the alcohol flowing through your body.

“Know what?” Jungkook asks.

Jungkook was the person you called to pick you up from your night out with your friends. It was nice of him to deal with all of you - the random crying in the backseat from one friend, to the angry screaming another did over the phone with her boyfriend. It was silent now, however, as he was on his way to driving you home. There’s soft music playing through the speakers that’s at the perfect volume for you and him to talk.

You don’t answer his question - not yet, at least. “Remember…my freshman year of highschool,” you start, lifting your head from the window to turn to look at him. “when I kissed you?”

Jungkook feels your eyes on him as he drives. His hand grips the steering wheel, his right hand lightly tapping his fingers against his thighs.

Jay, your brother and his best friend, would have not picked you and your friends up without giving you an earful along the way. Especially once he saw the way you were dressed - short skirt, tight shirt and laced stockings. It was one of the main reasons why you called Jungkook, after all.

“Yes.” Jungkook murmurs. “You weren’t even supposed to be at that party.”

True, you think. But neither was Jay. Your parents were out of town that weekend and that meant Jay was going to do what he wanted. You threatened to expose him if you didn’t go along with him - typical younger sister actions. After giving you a long list of things not to do, he allowed you to come.

Of course, he had told all of his friends about you being there and to keep an eye out. Your beer was stolen from your hands by Jimin who replaced it with soda. Taehyung had plucked the joint that was handed to you by a senior right out of your fingers and insisted you do something else. That something else was joining a game of seven minutes in heaven where, surely, no one would be there.

Except, Jungkook was. And the moment he saw that you were going to be in the closet with someone older than all of them, he had stepped forward and gone inside with you instead. He fully intended on not doing anything with you, of course.

“The look on your face was funny.” you snort, thinking about that memory. You haven’t talked about it with him ever - neither did you even tell Jay. Your brother made it clear from day one - back in elementary school when he met his closest friends - that you were to never be associated with them outside of a platonic relationship. 

They were off limits; and so were you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that.” Jungkook responds, snorting. You’ve done it so fast and it lasted less than five seconds. There was only a minute left in the game and you had placed a hand onto his chest and murmured a quiet “our little secret” before leaving. “You were like a little sister to me back then.”

Your smile immediately falls, your eyes shifting back to the road. The mood changes immediately and Jungkook notices it.

Your question you asked him before was did he know. Did he know that you liked him back then? You were only a freshman while your brother and him were juniors. You didn’t blame him for seeing you as a little sister as you all grew up around one another. He witnessed you and your brother fight and argue countless times, eyes bouncing between you and him with large doe-like eyes.

“How about now?” you ask as Jungkook stops at a red light. The roads are clear from any cars in sight. “Do you still think of me as a sister now?”

Jungkook allows himself to look at you fully now. He stares at you for a few moments, gathering your question into his mind. He doesn’t respond, unsure how to.

It was easier to see you as a little sister back then - all of the friend group had. Taehyung would always tease you like Jay had while Jimin was more of the caring type. 

Now, however, it was different. He noticed the shift as you began to grow older. Your senior year to be exact. Your figure changed, your voice grew a bit deeper and older. You were growing a bit mature for a senior girl. He told himself it was because you were a pretty girl so naturally, he would notice these changes.

But even after highschool, his eyes continued to wander to you and linger longer than they should. You moved in with Jay into his apartment to be closer to college and he would see you whenever he frequented there. Your shorts fit you perfectly, as did your shirts. You showed more skin (than Jay ever wanted you to) and when you spoke to him, it was always in a tone that Jungkook swore wasn’t entirely platonic.

“Kook?”

Jungkook blinks, turning his eyes away to look at the light that’s still red. He contemplates just running it as it’s nearly 3 a.m and not a single car around them. His cheeks are dusted a bit red when he realizes he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“No.” Jungkook says. “I don’t.” he answers truthfully.

“Kook?” you hum once more, this time a hand reaches out for him. It touches his arm and causes a jolt of electricity to shoot throughout his body.

“Yeah?” Jungkook swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. This damn light wasn’t turning fast enough. He turns his attention towards you. He notices from this angel, the red lights are illuminating your face. Your lips are coated in gloss and it shines.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Another swallow, followed by a squeeze of the steering wheel.

“I lied about where I was going to Jay tonight. And…if I go home. He’ll see me dressed like this.” you explain further. It causes Jungkook to glance down at your attire again, immediately regretting it and then meeting your eyes. “He’ll call me a whore again.”

Jungkook wants to say no - that you should go home. Jay should be asleep by now; he had work in the morning right? 

Jungkook doesn’t see the issue of you being at his apartment. You’ve gone there before…with Jay. Without Jay, what would be the reason for you to be there? What if Jay found out and thought-

“You’re thinking too much into this, Kook.” your lips form into a smile and your head tilts. Your hand squeezes his biceps a bit. “Besides, what could go wrong? It’s just me.”

Everything could go wrong - and it did.

You’re unsure how long it took when you and him got into his apartment, but your lips were on his before either of you could think.

Jungkook’s mind screams at him to stop this. Not only were you not sober, but you were off limits. You were someone he respects greatly and shouldn’t take advantage of.

But your hands roam his chest, then go lower to his stomach. You grab hold of his hands and place them onto your hips - all the while continuing to deepen the kiss.

Jungkook gives in, pushing you closer. You smell of fruity alcohol and strawberries - your lips taste of peach; soft and sticky from the gloss. He’s hooked, the flooded feelings he suppressed coming out at such a terrible time. 

“I want you.” you mumble against his lips, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck. Afraid to let him go in the guise that this could possibly be a (wet) dream; one you didn’t want to wake from just yet.

Jungkook knows you do, but he’s hesitant. Kissing you is bad and it goes against his friendship. But fucking you was something so heinous. If Jay found it, it would ruin nearly two decades of friendship.

“Please,” you repeat, one arm unhooking from his neck to take hold of one of his hand that’s gripping your ass. You dip it between your legs and through the skirt so he can feel just how much you wanted him. “please.” you repeat.

Jungkook groans - how much could one man handle? You’re soaking through your panties and the stockings you’re wearing. His fingers are directly against your clit and on instant, they rub circles on the wet, sensitive bud.

“Jay’s going to kill me if he finds out.” Jungkook groans, capturing your lips into his as his fingers dips between your wet folds. He makes no move to stop or push you away, however.

“It’ll be our little secret.” you say, repeating those very words he heard years ago. A secret he was going to take to the grave with him, no matter how small and insignificant it may have been back then.

Jungkook dips his fingers into your hole. It’s tight and squeezes around him. Instantly, he begins to pump, needing to feel just how wet you were for him.

You don’t hide your moans in the slightest. You wanted Jungkook to know how much you wanted this; wanted him. You waited years to be in this position - to have Jungkook all to yourself, even if it meant that you had to do it behind everyone’s back.

“Just for tonight.” Jungkook says, his warm breath tickling your cheek. “Tonight I’ll give you what you want.”

“The whole night?” your hand is still holding his wrist as he pumps his fingers deeply inside of you. Your arousal is coating his palm, a groan escaping your lips.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, eyes already clouded with lust. “you’re going to be insatiable.”

Jungkook removes his fingers from you, a whimper escaping your lips at the loss of them. He juts his head down the hall to the bedroom. He tugs you along, slamming the door open and leading you inside.

You don’t take your time in removing your clothes and the stocking, having them pool around you.

Jungkook doesn’t waste time pushing you onto his bed and pulling your legs apart. Your pussy is glistening underneath his LED lights and he groans at the beautiful sight. His head dives down, tongue swirling onto your clit. He’s groaning and grunting, his cock throbbing with just the act of eating you out.

It felt so wrong doing this, Jungkook thinks. The same young girl who was once so innocent and sweet was now you. The girl who was an adult who knew what she wanted. Who was laying naked on his bed and whimpering as he suckled onto your clit.

Your hand places itself onto his head, gripping his hair. Your hips grind against his tongue and he lays it flat so you could continue. The amount of times you thought of Jungkook in less than holy ways couldn’t be counted on both hands, but getting to live it out was a dream.

“Fuck, Kook.” you moan. 

Jungkook wasn’t going to stop until you came - which wasn’t far. He has your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your thighs to assure you cannot squirm away from him. His tongue laps your clit greedily, messy black hair jumping with the way his head bobs back and forth.

Jungkook’s cock is painfully hair as you moan for him. His eyes flicker up to your face - scrunched in pleasure with your eyes fluttering open just in time to meet him. He doesn’t look away, a satisfaction flowing through him when your eyes widen slightly and you groan. His tongue continues to ravish onto your cunt greedily until you’re shaking with pleasure.

You begged for him to fuck you right there. To take you as rough as he wanted - to not hold back. You were on birth control, you said. You wanted to feel him - all of him if this was going to be the one and only time.

Jungkook was but a man. He was already a fucked up person and friend. He sinks his cock into you and pounds you so disrespectfully - as if you weren’t his friend's baby sister. As if you weren’t someone he cared about deeply.

You begged for more, each thrust causing your stomach to churn. Your breast bounces erratically and your pussy’s already squeezing out another orgasm, but you don’t want this to end; neither does Jungkook.

Jungkook turns you around and fucks into you even deeper, your face pressed into his cotton sheets. Your ass was amazing from this view - it was going to be engraved into his mind. 

“Your pussy feels so good.” Jungkook whines, fully positive that he sounds like a school boy experiencing sex for the first time. 

It doesn’t help that you’re far too willing for him  to fuck you that you do whatever . You spread your  legs even further to allow him more access, nails digging into his sheets. He pounds into you with no mercy, your pussy squeezing him.

Jungkook hovers about your arched back, right hand dipping between your thighs to capture your already throbbing clit in his. He rubs it as he pounds into you, his lips close to your ear. “Are you really on birth control or was that a lie?”

“I-I am!” you say through moans. “A-Are you going to cum in me?”

Jungkook grunts - you weren’t going to make it easy for him, were you? The thought of cumming in you was exciting as he never did it with anyone without a condom. 

What’s the worst that can happen? You and he were already doing the unforgivable.

“You want me to cum in your pussy?” Jungkook’s voice sounds like sex, deep and sensual. 

You cum right there, overstimulation flowing through you but you nod your head erratically. You wanted any and every part of Jungkook that he was willing to give you.

And Jungkook had.He came right in you - again and again.

The fucking didn’t stop until he’s came in you at least four times. One time on your back so he could see your face as you cum around his cock. Once while you ride him, his hands cradling your hips possessively, eyes darting from the way you rise and fall on his wet cock to your bouncing breast in his face. The next follows immediately after, this time Jungkook taking control while you kept your position right above him.

Somehow, even then you weren’t done. You allowed yourself an hour before you asked if he could cum in your mouth. The request was outlandish but, Jungkook complied. You laid on your back and opened your mouth for him to, in your words, use you.

Jungkook should feel disgusted of himself for already using you as if you were nothing but a whore, but it was far too tempting. He pumps his cock into your mouth, watching the way you take him effortlessly and he ponders just how long you wanted this.

Him fucking your mouth turns to him fucking your breast - another request you had. His hands squeeze your breast together as his thumbs twirl against your hardened nipples.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut, Y/N.” Jungkook grunts.

“Only for you.” was your response that has him cumming again, cum shooting out and coating your breast.

The amount of sex that you and he have leads the both of you exhausted, sprawled out on his ruined sheets and both breathing heavily and sweaty. Jungkook’s mind wanders to how he was going to be able to look at you or his friend in the face again without feeling like a complete asshole.

Neither of you have time to think when a loud ringing sound comes from down the hall. It’s your phone and judging by the time, you can guess who it was. 

“It’ll go to voicemail.” you murmur to Jungkook. “He still thinks I’m at a friends.”

Jungkook's heart sinks but he nods.

“Wanna shower with me?” you ask, a hand placing onto his sweaty forehead. “We can both use it.”

Jungkook sniffs. “If that’s what you’d like. We can.” he says. “Y/N, I-”

You place a hand onto his lips to silence him. “I know, Kook.” you murmur. “You don’t need to let me down easily.”

Jungkook lifts himself to a seated position. “I wasn’t going to say anything like that.” he shakes his head. “I just…I want you to know that I do have love and respect for you.” 

You blink as Jungkook continues.

“And I don’t want you to think that I view you as…a slut or…any less than before.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a crimson color now. “I-”

“Kookie,” you lift your body so that you can grab his hands into your own. The nickname was one he hadn’t heard since middle school and it immediately caught his attention. “I get it. Trust me.” you say, a smile forming onto your lips. “Did you know…” you began, repeating the question from earlier. “...that I liked you?”

Jungkook's mouth goes dry and slowly, he shakes his head. It should be surprising as Jungkook was oblivious to any and every girl that liked him.

However, Jungkook does recall one moment - an instant in which Jay had stated that you and him could never be together. It was a random comment that came entirely out of nowhere, but it happened right after you kissed him.

“Jay knew.” you murmur. “I didn’t tell him but…he knew.” you look away. “I thought maybe he told you. I’m glad he didn’t.”

Jay wouldn’t have - not even now. 

Jungkook slowly inhales. A part of him feels even more like an asshole because this was a mistake. You had feelings for him that should’ve been obvious if he wasn’t such an idiot. Things are much more complicated now.

“Let’s shower.” you say, noticing the change in Jungkook’s demeanor. This was a one time thing that wouldn’t happen again and you’ll grow to be fine with that. “Then if you’re up for it, you can show me that movie you’ve been talking about.”

Jungkook nods slowly, allowing you to tug him off the bed and towards his bathroom. His mind wanders back to your confession and recalls just the amount of times he’s caught you looking his way and smiling shyly when he notices.

Off limits, he hears Jay’s voice say in his mind over and over again as you turn the water on to heat up. He was fucked.

@darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @investedreader @momnomnom

[cvnt4him]

just izu who knows you love his abs

The two of you are in your shared bed, you straddling his lap while he holds on tightly to your hips shoving his tongue down your throat while you grind down onto him.

Izuku hums in the kiss as he feels your fingers gently trickle down the sharp outline of his abs. You rub your hands up and down your chest feeling all up on him groaning at the touch alone, it was enough to really get you going. It was its own kind of sexy, you end up deepening the kiss and grinding down harder on him turning into more of a dry humping motion wih the repetitiveness.

You take izukus breath away, literally. With how much his heart is beginning to race with how good you're grinding into him he has to catch his breath, but it's as if you don't want to let him go. Izuku has to force you off of him, spit connecting your lips to his as you both breath heavily your hips come to a slow stop you look at him with a deep confusion and all he can offer you is a small chuckle.

“ what was...that all about, hon?”

He breathes in between his speech. You groan slightly turning your head and continuing to trace his abs. He rubs gentle circles on your hips giggling to himself.

The way he looked you deep in your eyes, his normally wide eyes rather calmed and sharp looking. There was a teasing glint in his eye as he grabbed both of your hands and had them rubbing up and down his body once more, slowly letting goru hands feel all over his chest and abs.

You bit your lip and your eyes couldn't stay in one spot flickering from his piercing gaze and his sharp abs. He just looked so damn good it was insane.

“ god, you're so sexy.”

You whine out causing him to chuckle below you, he lets go of your hands before bringing them back down to your hips, snapping the stretchy hem fabric of your panties against your skin causing you to wince and jolt up.

“ take these off f’me?”

You quickly get out of your now soaked underwear, he breathily laughs to himself at how wet you've gotten causing you to lightly slap his arm, he throws them to the side and grabs you once more by your hips and pulls you onto his abs your wet pussy pressing against his bare skin making him bite his lip and moan lowly.

Without anything needing to be said you began rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your sopping cunt down onto him, planting your hands firmly onto his shoulders and holding on izuku groans beneath you feeling your wetness and watching you get off.

Your moans start to quickly fall out as your breath quickens, your clit roughly brushing against his skin as you squeeze your eyes shut and feel his hands come to squeeze your thighs.

“, that's it baby, mmhm....so fucking needy.”

The absolute bare minimum was getting you there, you were so close as his slightly rasped voice coaxed you through your upcoming high. His hand then trail up to your clit and rubs it fastly making your head throw back and nearly fall back as well, izuku laughs at how hard you cum and coos at you telling you how good you are for him.

Small praises leaving your lovers lips as he stared at you in awe. He couldn't believe he made you cum by letting you ride his abs. That was a new one.

[emptymanuscript]

I suspect the way to get things in front of right wing eyes is probably a violation of the tumblr terms of service. They need tags that those who support the right wing wants to look at. Like gun control or sleepy joe or christian faith. I'm sure there are a ton I simply don't know in the same way they probably don't know tags I watch for. But without something promising them that a post is something they are interested in - and again, I'm pretty sure it is against the tumblr tos to simply mistag things that aren't referenced in order to get clicks - you have to be mutuals with them to pass things along.

Tumblr is generally built to primarily connect with people you share interests with rather than any other organizing principle. The secondary organization is purely organic, someone follows someone for whatever reason and they're permanently linked but that's usually preceded by some shared interest to make the initial connection unless the people know each other from OFF tumblr. Like, I followed my friends (who have now left the site) from Live Journal but then picked up all my mutuals from posts that they posted that I was interested in.

But now everyone knows which tags likely to provoke a fight and go on to block them.

Like, I have Biden blocked as a tag. That has nothing to do with disliking Biden and everything to do with knowing that something tagged Biden will likely be divisive and make it a much less zen experience. Because I've blocked "Biden" chances are high I'll never even see the tag "Sleepy Joe" because it is probably accompanying Biden. Which means I'm simply not seeing the other side of the political spectrum there and don't know their keywords because of it. I expect it is much the same on their side. Anything that they expect will give them an unpleasant experience is likely hidden behind a block AND filtered by a lack of mutuals who are going to challenge them. Because wanting to ENJOY the social media experience is a general desire and having your beliefs challenged and belittled is rarely enjoyable. It's the essential problem of getting news from social media instead of sites devoted to news.

I'm on Fark. The Fark comment section is nowhere near as pleasant and sociable as Tumblr because we're all forced to deal with the same stories. They are as they are. And therefore it is on the commenters to argue for their point of view because they can't rely on it being the general trend of opinion like we can with our mutuals. So there is a lot more yelling and insults, exactly what we're avoiding. And when that wasn't enough, we generally flock toward different news sites. Think about how often you'll see Fox news linked to here. It's rare BECAUSE everyone along this thread of communication is unlikely to be right wing because of the negative take on the result of right wing action.

Which just makes it all come full circle. Social Media is based around information flowing across specific types of connections. This inevitably creates echo chambers because we will move toward the connections we favor and away from the connections we do not favor. While some people really do enjoy arguments and challenges to the point they seek them out, that is the statistical minority. Which means if you WANT to reach people you naturally don't connect with, you have to cheat against the reasons you don't connect.

Gun control, for instance, actually lead to my most commented on post. Because I talked about Gun Control in relation to a particular tragedy but one of the people who did like arguing and challenging follows the Gun Control tag specifically to look for people who want Gun Control in order to argue against it with them. He, being very right wing, then carried our interaction across his dash, interconnecting my fairly left wing opinions into his chain of connections where everyone piled on while my reply to him carried over to all of my connections. That's how to short circuit it.

BUT

The more we are dominated by the echo chamber and the more we can't find any common ground to agree on, the less people are sitting on tags that they know will cause controversy because even for them, it's often only fun in bursts. They don't want it all the time. So even that is becoming more transitory and less connective.

So, back again to cheating. We love saying Tumblr has no algorithm but it is bullshit. It has the same algorithm that "Reality TV" has. Human behavior is chaotic but it is fairly predictable in general trendlines. I can't predict what a specific unknown YOU will do next. But I can assign a statistical likelihood on a majority behavior. Give a mass population something to enjoy and they will shy away from the parts that hurt and favor engaging with the parts that feel good. Set up the right initial situation and you can't predict EXACTLY what will happen but you can reasonably expect that it will conform to the normal trends of human behavior.

That's what you have to break. If you want to get something that people are likely to NOT want to engage with, then you have to break the natural human algorithm of connection. You have to cloak it in something that they are likely to SEEK engagement with. Even neutral isn't enough. Because they are protected by the design decisions made by Tumblr which was meant to get people to connect over shared interests. Neutral means it isn't interesting. It just passes into the ether because it won't connect to anything but those who are already in connection with you. It has to be POSITIVELY interesting in the way that will get people to be interested before they fully engage with the content and realize that it is meant to be uncomfortable for them which they avoid.

Which does generally reduce the strategy to manipulation and lies. You have to engage more positive interest than their negative interest has already put up as a barrier and then enough additional positive interest that is going to get them to engage enough to get the message.

And you probably only get one chance. Maybe two if you get a partial success.

For the same reason that Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists really probably only get one chance to engage directly with the account of a Trans person. Because as soon the Trans person realizes that the TERF is posting in bad faith to make them uncomfortable and unwelcome, they simply block the TERF as an account, not merely blocking the posting identity but any other screen names attached to the same account. Which in turn makes it increasingly expensive in effort to cross the boundary.

So each tag you put a message across will result in increasing blocks. Until getting the attention of people who don't want to give you their attention becomes the majority of your activity.

At which point this becomes an evaluation. How important is the message to get across given that you will probably nerf your ability to get messages across in the future in reaction.

In an ideal world, this information would make everyone who sees it reconsider their support for DOGE.

But we don't live there.

Instead we're living in the world where Musk's interns, not even political appointees, jacking into the treasury department records of EVERYONE wasn't enough to turn the opinions of the people you're trying to reach.

So think of this as a nuclear option. You don't start with it. You escalate to it.

Research what tags seem to engage people who support DOGE. Get a list.

Wait for something that does MORE than incense you. Wait for something that is more than merely informative. Wait for the thing that goes COUNTER to what the people reading one of those tags believe to an outrageous amount. Wait for what will make them fly into a rage because it is an utter betrayal. :/ You probably won't have to wait that long, actually.

Then, when you have something that will incense THEM - not you, you're already on the other side, it's all about them - cheat against the algorithm and label it what will get in front of their eyes even though it shouldn't.

After that, cross out that tag because you've likely lost the use of it.

Wait for the next opportunity.

While you're waiting, share the tag you used and what responses you got so other people know what worked and what didn't. Essentially, you're recruiting for a Psyop. Because you are working an anti-psyop. And you will need allies to speak that message into the spaces you burn. Let allies give a different take and boost the signal of the alternate point of view. The more you can get the merrier. Because you want to flood it. You want to make it so that tag becomes a message, understanding that each individual post within the overarching message will burn an account as people in the tag will just block you until they finally stop following the tag. At which point everyone will have to move down the list.

It's also probably more effective if people rotate who sends messages.

Moderators and staff will probably ignore a single use of this trick. If you become a regular, you're going to get banned. So, get a LOT of allies and understand that this is going to be hard work. It's going to be HOW you and your allies are fighting this war and there will be attrition.

At least that's my guess.

I can't honestly claim to know anything about anything. Psyops isn't my field.

So, you know, your mileage may vary. And you'll notice I'm not doing it. I haven't tagged this with any of my suggestions. So also buyer beware and all that. I'm probably condescending, too, while I'm at it. Mostly think of this as something to noodle in order to prompt your own thinking.

I, myself, am giving up. This is the world they wanted. I don't buy that they were ignorant. So I have no interest in informing them because I don't see the use. I just can't resist an opportunity to write an essay. Don't know why. Probably the drugs I'm on.

Good luck.

This will never make it in front of right-wing eyes. The government is a mystery of spending that can not be understood!

And it’s all because of trans people!

Or immigrants!

Whatever the enemy of the week is… enemy of the weak? 🤔

[lostinlovingrevery]

Stressed old man Logan + reader + glory hole

Jesus Christ 🙏🫦

Unraveling

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

Logan overhears a conversation between you and your coworker....

A/N: Nonny when you sent this ask in I immediately was like...Oh my god. Oh my god???? Jesus. Hope you like this! (also this gif...ungf)

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, blowjobs, glory hole, drinking, Logan being perverted and desperate, suggestive ending (i mean.. its' obvs?)

It has been the fucking shittiest, fuck-all, goddamn day.

All Logan wanted to do was have a drink at his favorite bar, and talk to his favorite girl. 

Well, he got 1 out of 2.

You, who was not actually his girl (much to his dismay), were busy with customers. It seemed like all the fucking idiots in the city decided this bar was going to be the setting of their tomfoolery. He had to clench his fists and resist the instinctive feeling of popping his claws out and stabbing them into the arm of the drunken asshole next to him, who kept laughing and yapping and knocking into his (very sore) shoulder. 

The jokes aren’t even that funny. 

The night might be salvageable if he could at least get one of your pretty smiles shot his way. You haven’t even been able to come to refill his shots, one of your coworkers doing the job instead, since you were being drugged along table after table full of men shouting about their fantasy football and demanding refills and their seasoned basket of french fries.

There may have been a time when Logan would have been one of those. A group of friends, all laughing and having a good time over something trivial. Smacking one of them on the back and nearly knocking his glasses off; telling jokes that make one spit her drink out; arm wrestling with another and winning, every. Single. Time. Toasting their drinks, to a good future. 

Well, that was a long time ago.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. T’was getting late. Should probably head back home soon. Especially if he wants to resist the urge of slamming the fuckers head next to him onto the counter and staining the polished wood with his blood. Course, he wouldn’t want to create more work for you.

He glanced around the bar, searching for you. He couldn’t spot you, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye yet anyway. 

You’re my favorite

You would whisper to him sweetly across the bar, a flirty wink, and a smile that made his heart flutter. He knew you were merely trying to make an old man, a regular to the bar, feel better about himself. You were just so kind, genuine about your words. It grew hard for him to not get a little crush on the young, pretty thing you are. A reminder of his youth. Shit, if he’d met you in his prime, he would have wasted no time in making you his.

Now, that’s just a fantasy. Something he thinks about as he lies awake on top of his ratty mattress, as he strokes his cock to the memory of your laughter, the curve of your painted lips, and the way your ass looks in those jeans. 

It’s pathetic, he’s created some sort of imaginary relationship in his head with you. So starved for any sort of affection, platonic or romantic- that he tries to imagine that you would ever want anything to do with him outside of being a regular at your bar. 

His glass was empty. 

He sighed, getting up from his stool and moving to the other side of the bar, where one of your coworkers was filling drinks up. It got him away from the assholes giving him a headache and got him the chance to get his glass filled up. He watched the whiskey being poured, small bubbles floating at the top, as he brought the glass to his lips, a courteous nod to the bartender before taking a drink. 

It was then he picked up something curious. 

It was you, and one of your coworkers, talking in the hallway around the corner that led to the bathrooms and the kitchen. It was none of his business, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. 

“Don’t you want to live a little bit?” 

“Well yeah!” You responded. “I don’t know if I call this living though…” 

“It’s fun! I swear.”

“How often have you tried it?”

“Like…4 or 5 times?”

“Woah. and you haven’t gotten an STD?” 

“Uh, no? Why would I get that? It goes in the mouth?”

Logan curled a brow, the silence from you was deafening as your friend- who’s voice Logan recognized as another bartender, a woman with platinum blonde hair who has implied more times than once that she wanted to have sex with him, to his face, waited for your next words. 

“We’ll need to have a talk about that another time.” You say gently. 

“Whatever. Are you going to keep being a prude?”

“I’m not a prude!”

“And when was the last time you got some dick?” 

Logan raised his brows in surprise. He waited for your answer, the silence then telling him what he needed to know. 

Admittedly, it surprised him. You were a pretty girl, boys flirted with you left and right. Yes, boys, because none of them could really take care of you- not the way he could. Course, he’s not really doing a top-notch job taking care of himself, or someone else….

“It’s just a glory hole. Just try it once, and it won’t be like anyone will know it’s you!”

Logan nearly choked on his drink. Glory hole?

The fucking glory hole!

The nasty shit in the last stall at the end of the men's bathroom. A hole someone drilled into the plywood to separate the women from the mens. He had seen it a few times, hell, even been tempted to give it a try. A moment of weakness just to get his whistle wet after who knows how long (He rather not think about it). He’s always chickened out though, stepping away from the nasty thing, preferring to just get himself off in his car or bed. Especially since lately, he could only think about you to get himself off. 

He listened to you sigh. 

“Okay…” You say. “Wish me…luck, I guess?” and a small laugh escaped you. 

He wasn’t even thinking. He stood up from the stool, a loud screech across the noisy bar, barely registered by anyone inside, as he moved to go down the hallway, brushing past your friend who glanced at him with a confused look, before watching him push the door of the men's bathroom open and step inside. She smirked knowingly, before turning to go back to her shift- and cover you for at least the next 10 minutes. 

The music and raucous laughter were muffled as he stepped into the dingy bathroom. The fluorescent light, blue-tiled floor covered with scuff marks and pieces of paper towels, and dingy, speckled white painted walls would be a mood killer for most. Logan though, felt his cock hardening every step he made to the back stall- praying to god some other asshole didn’t manage to get in there before he did. 

He pushed the stall open. Empty.

He stood there for a moment. The tent in his pants became more prominent as he considered the implications of what he was about to do. Fuck, he knew it was going to be you on the other side, you would have no idea it was his cock you’re sucking. Fucking felt wrong as hell. 

Then he thought about your pretty lips. 

He stepped inside, shutting the stall door behind him and locking it. He glanced over where the hole was located. 

Not huge, just big enough to stick his dick inside. Written above it with several arrows pointing towards the hole in Sharpie was GLORY HOLE in all caps. As if it wasn’t more obvious what the damn thing was. 

People used to be discreet. 

There was graffiti all along the wall. Crude drawings of dicks and stick figures having sex in various positions. Numbers and ‘Call me! <3 <3 <3’ written in multiple spaces. A ‘go fuck yourself’ written right at Logan's eye level in pink sharpie. 

He stood there for a minute, his fists clenching and unclenching as he listened to the muffled rock music in the background. Loud cheers turned his head to the stall door. He let out a small breath and inhaled through his nose- where he caught a whiff of your scent. 

He froze. Glancing at the glory hole before bending over, and peering through it. 

He knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help it.

You were sitting on the toilet, bouncing your leg, looking everywhere but the wall, like you were avoiding the fact that it existed. He found your nervousness cute. He thought of all sorts of ways he could have you. This certainly wasn’t one of those ways. This was all sorts of fucked up. He was a perverted old man, who jumped at the chance to secretly get his dick sucked by you, the bartender he’s had a crush on for nearly a year. 

He’ll take what he can get. 

He unzipped his pants.

Shaky hands pulled himself out, cock in his hand, he gave himself a few strokes. He hadn’t gotten hard this fast and this painfully in forever. He was throbbing, that thick vein that ran up to his tip, red and swollen as precum beaded and slowly dripped down his length. 

He took a deep breath, stepping forward, and he entered himself into the glory hole. His other hand came up, pressed against the wall as he braced himself, staring at the pink message telling him to go fuck himself. 

Oh. My. god.

Whoever this guy was, he’s fucking huge. Biggest you’ve ever seen. The sight of it made your thighs clench together as you felt your arousal slicken your panties. Your mouth watered and you felt your skin heat up by the fact that you were completely turned on right now. 

This was so nasty. 

You examined his cock, inches away from your face. Thick, a prominent vein from his tip, ran down his shaft. Pre-cum beading from his slit. He looked painfully hard, poor guy must be pent up. 

You bit your lip. 

Let's help him feel better.

Your hand came up to grip him, firm, but not too hard. You could feel him throbbing, as you leaned forward, and ran your tongue over his slit, tasting the beady pre-cum on your tongue and rolling your eyes- resisting the urge to moan. 

Logan bit down on the knuckle of his thumb, so hard he broke skin, as he tasted something metallic flood his tongue. He couldn’t care though, not as he felt your wet tongue practically lap him up like someone dying of thirst in the desert. Your hand slowly, carefully began to jerk him off, using your spit to lube him up. He let out a shaky breath, tipping his head back as he placed both hands against the wall, tipping his hips forward and pressing himself flush against the drywall. 

You leaned forward, taking his tip between your lips, as you twirled your tongue around him, hollowing at your cheeks and bobbing over it a few times. He was already huge, and you were doubtful of your ability to take him in fully. You tipped your head in forward, pushing him deeper into your mouth, and savored the weight of him. 

Fuck, you’re good.

Logan let out a pant, almost akin to a quiet whine when he felt you take him deeper into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat, as you began pulling your head back and forth, swirling your tongue and lips over him expertly. Goddamn this stupid ass wall. Exactly why he didn’t like glory holes. He wanted to see those lips of yours wrapped around his cock. He wanted to see you look up at him with those pretty eyes. He wanted to grab your hair and face fuck you and watch tears stream down your cheek and kiss them away once he was finished. The way you were sucking on him like he was something desirable. You didn’t even know it was him.

Dirty girl.

Drool began to dribble over your chin, as you continued sucking on him mindlessly. Your brain was going fuzzy, your eyes rolled back as you enjoyed the heady taste of this man. You had no idea it would be this good to suck dick before. 

His hips started involuntarily thrusting against the wall, desperate for more, for the pending release that he had been holding back, completely surprised that he had lasted as long as he had. He bit back another groan, a small whimper escaping him as he continued rocking his hips against the wall, tipping his head back again. His claws pricked the skin of his knuckles, small red beads forming at the base. His nails dug into the dinghy paint, leaving crescent shape marks, leaving his permanent mark in the bathroom stall. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, as he let out a harsh groan. 

“Fuck”

You almost stopped at the sound. The familiar gruff voice that you’ve grown to be fond of. The older gentleman who has been coming into your bar, every other night, gets the same drink, and gives you the same warm smile, with the same gruff “mhms”

You thought he was the cutest thing. Tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention extremely mysterious. He never told you much about his life, after that he drives a limo- you’d tease him about giving you a free ride at some point since you have never ridden a limo, and he’d just smile and give you this look you couldn’t quite read. 

He never talked to anyone. Well, he “talked” to you, if you want to call it talking. He responds to you more than anybody else who works here. Even Angela, the one who pushed you into this damn thing just so you’d quit complaining about having no sex life. You never saw a guy resist her charms and tits but Logan could’ve cared less for her. 

It gave you a bit of a complex, admittedly. 

Angela is convinced his dick doesn’t work anymore cause surely who could resist her?

Definitely nothing wrong with his cock.

You had no idea he was the type of man to use a glory hole of all things though. What would he say if he knew you were the one slobbering over his cock? Fucking your throat with him, becoming mindless at the taste of him and already dreaming of sucking it again in the near future. He’d feel amazing in your pussy too, although by his size your jaw was aching and you knew you were going to need a lozenge after this by taking him down your throat; you’re not sure if you would be able to survive getting fucked. 

He was thrusting in and out of your throat, and you could tell by how he throbbed he was getting close. You pulled your mouth off him, stroking him furiously with your hand to get him there closer. You wanted to watch him cum. 

You faltered for a moment when you swore you heard him groan your name. 

Quickly returning your pace, you stick your tongue out, running it over his slit, when you are finally rewarded. 

Ropes and ropes of cum painted your tongue and face as you stroked him off. It seemed never-ending the way your face was being covered by his spunk. 

Sure was pent up, wasn’t he?

You stroked him through the last of it, noticing how your lipstick stained all over his base and feeling a strange sense of pride. You wrapped your lips around him one more time to clean off the remaining cum leaking out, making his softening cock twitch, before he quickly pulled himself out. You heard a zipper and a belt being done up before a door gets pushed open.

You sat there, blinking a few times. An urge to say, “Thanks” rests on your lips. Yet you keep your mouth closed. You pulled your phone out, looking at the mess you’ve become. His cum covered you, forehead to chin, spit dripping over your lips, and your mascara was runny. Even your hair had managed to get ruffled during the process. 

You spent the next five minutes cleaning yourself up, first wiping everything down and then when the evidence was less obvious. You washed your face in the sink, the girls walking in the bathroom oblivious to your earlier antics. A wave of clarity hit you as you began to wonder, 

How the fuck am I going to look Logan in the eyes now?

You dried your face off, fixed your hair, and checked your outfit before you opened the door and stepped back into the noisy bar- only to be greeted by Logan. His hands in his his pockets, face looking down at the ugly stained carpet that has been here since the 90s, his ankle crossed over the other. He looked up at you and your eyes met and you could see it.

He knew it was you on the other side.

He pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward and you swallowed, the taste of him still strong on your tongue. Staring up at him with wide eyes, he looked down at you like a predator eyeing his next meal. 

His cheeks were flushed, the tips of his ears red, his hair a bit mussed. He towered over you, making your heart beat fast. 

“You want that free ride now sweetheart?”

[illubean]

Walk Him Like a Dog!

In which Nerdjo is your roommate (eventually boyfriend) who will do anything for you <3

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: Oneshot, Fem!Reader, can u tell I'm a sucker for College!AU

ignore the unserious ass images idk what to use for this 😭

Warnings: descriptions of reader's appearance (stuff like smooth skin or long lashes, nothing too specific), NSFW Reader discretion is advised (it’s probably skippable)

Gojo doesn't know how he's going to survive having you as a roommate.

He doesn't do all that well when it comes to the social scene. Sure, he's nice and accidentally charismatic, but he's only found few people who will listen to him talk about his hobbies without judgement. That being said though doesn't mean he's anti-social. Quite the opposite actually.

When Gojo posted about the vacancy in his apartment, it was because his previous roommate and best friend transferred schools, leaving him all alone in the space. The snowy haired male could easily afford to live on his own, but he couldn't stand to be completely by himself. Initially, he just expected some random guy would take the room, someone who he could be at least somewhat friends with (because lets be real, he can never and will never replace his moody bestie).

What he didn't expect, though, was a pretty thing like you messaging him to ask about the room. When you met at the campus cafe to chat before you made the final decision to move in, his jaw dropped as you settled in the seat across from him. It was like a scene out of a cheesy romance movie, or even that part in Lego Batman where he sees Barbara for the first time. Your hairstyle suited you perfectly, long lashes batting as he watched how your perfectly glossed lips moved when you spoke. He was so entranced he almost didn't catch what you said.

"Hey! Thanks for meeting up with me. I seriously need to move ASAP, I'm glad I saw your post before anyone else asked about it!"

"Uhm.......wow you're so...I mean yeah, how lucky!"

The poor guy practically had heart eyes while everything around you turned to glitter, emphasizing your features. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Gojo focused on you. It wasn't the first time he's seen you around. Often times you'd pass him on the way to class or around the dining hall, always with a friend. He always knew you were gorgeous but never bothered to approach you, concluding that you were way out of his league. And you were so much prettier up close.

You pretended not to notice his very obvious gawking. If it were any other man, you would've probably cussed him out and walked away by now. But it wasn't a secret that Gojo was cute; he also seemed pretty sweet in comparison to the douchey guys who approached you most of the time. You spent 15-20 minutes chatting with him before you had to run to your next class. He was happy things went well and you decided to take him up on his offer, arranging to move all of your stuff into his apartment the upcoming weekend.

About a month or so after you settled into your new living arrangement, Gojo was able to see sides of you no one but your closest friends know about. He got to learn more about your hobbies and little habits, like how on occasion you partake in what you call "floor time". He even got to watch how you stumbled out of your room and padded your way to the kitchen in the morning, sporting an atrocious bedhead and your cartoon pj pants. Even with eye crusties and sleep lines on your face, he still thought you were adorable.

The more time that passed by, Gojo fell harder and harder for you. He never planned to tell you about his feelings though; just seeing you go about your life in the shared space and having you around was enough. He couldn't risk the good thing he had going over a silly not so little crush.

Aside from being in love with you, living together and having you as a roommate was very pleasant. You made sure to keep things clean and never shied away from spending quality roommate time with Gojo. You also made it so that Gojo himself took better care of the space and his well being. All just by being there.

You guys grew to become pretty close friends. He would walk you to your classes whenever he had the chance, you would sit with him while he studies or plays his games and the two of you even had weekly movie and or TV show binge nights. Gojo always chose some nerdy superhero or fantasy movie with the occasional anime series, but you never really minded. During his free time, your tall companion rarely left the apartment. And if he did, it was usually just to accompany you. And you quickly realized that he rarely ever said no to you. Any time you asked him to drive you to the grocery store, hold your bag while you were out or even just simple things like helping you open a pickle jar he always did so with enthusiasm. He has never once complained about any of the tasks you ask of him, even if it was something ridiculous like rearranging the layout of your room ten times just to put everything back to the way it was before. He was always happy to help. After realizing how good he treats you, you quickly started falling for the man yourself. He really was a sweet boy, ever so helpful and kind and not to mention the cutest thing ever. You never missed the way his cheeks would dust a rosy shade whenever you were too close, or how he fidgets with his clothes when he’s feeling nervous. Even the light and passion in his eyes whenever he would geek out about the marvel franchise or whatever video game he was currently into was adorable. It was obvious there was mutual attraction between the two of you, but in order to have some fun you decided to see how far you could push his limits before everything would come out into the open.

You started by asking him for his opinion on small things, like what color shirt he liked better on you or if you should wear blue or black jeans. Then from there, it went to asking him about things on your computer (which you may or may not already know how to do). This would force him to either lean next to or above you while you sat in your desk chair, watching your screen and taking your mouse from you to fix whatever needed fixing. Then, you started asking for more risqué things, like helping you zip up the back of a dress or bringing you a towel that you so coincidentally forgot. You were always sure to thank him genuinely, which escalated from words, to hugs then to pecks on the cheek.

Every time you physically expressed your gratitude, Gojo would freeze up momentarily before offering a quiet “no problem” and retreating to whatever it was he was doing before. On one of your TV nights, you decided to amp things up a bit. Typically, the two of you sat a normal distance away from each other, but as the movie went on you would scootch closer and closer to him. The TV was currently playing whichever part of the Starwars trilogy; Gojo’s pick of course.

“Hey Toru, can you do me a favor?”

He glanced over at you, momentarily turning his attention away from the film to answer you with a smile.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I’m kind of cold. Can we cuddle?”

His body stiffened as he turned a complete 90 degrees to face you, shoulders tense while he stammered out his response.

“ARE YOU SURE!? I mean- ahem…we can…if you want.”

You giggled at his response before sliding even closer to him, gently pushing him to lay against the armrest of the couch and settling atop him. You could hear his heartbeat quicken while his hands froze in the air for a moment, before awkwardly resting against your back.

“Why’re you so tense? I don’t bite.”

“Right.”

He let out a shaky breath before trying to relax into the couch, lanky limbs entangled with your own. Without tearing your eyes away from the TV screen, you readjusted yourself as well as Gojo, leading his arms to rest around your waist instead of awkwardly against your shoulder blades. You tucked your own arms around and underneath his midsection while you laid comfortably against his broad chest. For someone who didn’t go outside much, he was well built. You weren’t too interested in the movie choice for tonight, but pretended to be for Gojo’s sake. Allas, your attempts were futile as halfway through you ended up falling asleep, lulled by the soft badump badump badump of his hearbeat.

(nsfw below)

After that night, Gojo avoided you like the plague. You were beginning to worry that you may have pushed his boundaries too far. Maybe you read him wrong and he wasn’t interested in you the way you thought. But in reality, that couldn’t be any farther from the case. After getting to cuddle with who Gojo swears is the most beautiful woman on the planet, he couldn’t think about anything else. You were on his mind constantly, often invading his dreams at night and he was too embarrassed to face you. Especially when those dreams became…not so wholesome. He felt bad about thinking of you in this way, he really did. But he just couldn’t help himself. Especially when the weather was shifting and getting warmer. Now, you often opted to sleep in tiny tank tops or shorts, 99% of the time without a bra. This left little to the imagination.

In the late hours of the night, Satoru would pathetically stroke his cock to the thought of you; his pretty little roommate sleeping in the next room. A small part of him thinks you know what you do to him, but the greater portion chalks it all up to you just being friendly, and he was just some disgusting pervert. Satoru whimpers, feeling unimaginably guilty but he just can’t stop. Every night since you watched Starwars together, he would retreat to his room and rub his sad, weeping dick raw to the thought of you. Tonight, his fantasies were running particularly wild. He imagined it were your hand working him instead of his own, imagining the way you would plant kisses against him and tell him how good he’s doing. With a needy whine, Satoru erupted all over his hand and lower abdomen, panting as he leaned against the headboard of his bed.

His body relaxed while he came down from his high, only to tense up again at the sound of his door being slammed open.

“Toru, are you okay!? I heard a-“

You stopped in your tracks as the both of you stared at each other, wide eyed. Satoru was frozen in horror as your eyes trailed down from his own, settling on the pretty length between his legs as it began to stiffen back up again. The initial shock on your face wore off and turned into a sly smirk, causing Satoru to stutter out some lame excuse while he felt heat creep up his neck and engulf his face.

“I’m sorry- it’s not what it looks like!”

Ignoring his embarrassed rambling, you made your way into the room and settled on the bed next to him. Your thigh was pressed flush against his own as you leaned closer to his ear, hand gently grasping his shaft. You felt it twitch beneath your touch, smiling while you whisper into his ear.

“Aww, is this why you’ve been so awkward around me? Y’know, all you had to do was ask.”

Satoru shivered, feeling the way your breath fanned against his face, lips moving to press fluttering kisses against his neck. Pathetic mewls spilled from his lips, feeling jolts of pleasure course through his body at the feeling of your soft hand slowly caressing the angry, pink tip of his cock.

Was this really happening?

His half lidded eyes watched your hand leisurely move up and down as his mind turned to mush. He was broken out of his trance by the feeling of your other hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, turning him to face you before swallowing every noise that came from him. Your lips felt so good against his, so soft.

This was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. From the minute you barged into his room, Satoru was completely engulfed in you. Engulfed in your presence, your stare, and now your touch. The sweet scent of your body wash was comforting as he listened to himself moan against your lips. Taking advantage of this, you pushed your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. Everything felt hot. Everything from the burning of his ears, to the warmth where your skin touched his, and now, the fire within his abdomen running its course to his second orgasm of the night. Satoru’s hips bucked up into your gentle fist, stuttering as ropes of white hot cum shot from his shaft. This time around, it landed higher onto his tummy than it did before, a broken and muffled “mnffhh” buzzing against your lips. Pulling away from the kiss, you didn’t miss how his lips seemed to chase yours nor the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

Letting go of his softening length, your finger swiped up some of the cooling cum off of his sticky tip and brought it to your lips for a taste. Satoru watched you with his ocean colored eyes, glazed over with more than just lust. Your other hand caressed soothing circles at the nape of his neck, fingers threaded through his undercut.

“Toru baby, can you do another favor for me?”

Feeling weak in his post nut haze, all he can muster is a small nod as his swollen lips quivered.

“Only let me see you like this. No one else.”

The next morning, Gojo was almost convinced everything that happened was all a dream. He woke up alone in his bed, the only proof that you could’ve been there was that he was cleaned up and tucked under his covers. Groggily, he swung his legs over the side of his way and dragged himself to the kitchen. The smell of miso soup wafted towards him and he saw you stood in front of the stove.

“G’morning Toru,” you greeted softly, smiling over your shoulder. “Breakfast should be done soon. Come, taste this for me.”

The male blinked a couple of times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. How could you be so normal right now? Ignoring his inner thoughts, he’s quick to obey you as you spoon fed him some of the soup.

‘S’good,” he says, yawning and making his way to sit at the table. If you were going to play it cool and pretend things didn’t happen last night, then so would he.

After breakfast the two of you went about your days like you normally would. No matter how much Gojo told himself he was fine with not talking about last night, it was eating him alive as time passed by. It wasn’t until the two of you were getting ready for bed that his resolve snapped. He slowly peeked his head into your room, spotting you doing your skincare routine at your vanity.

“You need something?” you asked, offhandedly, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror.

“About last night…did that….mean anything to you?”

His cheeks flushed as he recalled the events from before. He cursed his body for getting worked up again. He was trying to have a serious conversation with you, damn it!

Finishing up the application of your moisturizer, you stood from in front of your vanity to make your way to the door and pull Satoru inside.

“Of course it did,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. “I’m just waiting on you, big guy.”

Satoru practically melted upon the feeling of your lips against his again, expression switching from worried to a lovestruck, dopey smile. It wasn’t for a few moments did the actually process what you said last.

Waiting on me? For what?

You watched as the gears turned in that pretty head of his, his puzzled face quickly lighting up in realization as if a lightbulb were turned on above him.

“Oh, right! Can I please be your boyfriend!?”

You laughed at his excitement, giving him the answer he wanted to hear for so long. You could almost imagine a pair of fluffy ears perking up from the top of his head and a tail wagging happily behind him. You pressed one last kiss against his lips before pushing him out your room door.

“See you tomorrow, boyfriend.”

As time passed, Satoru started to go out more and more, never once leaving your side. This resulted in him being around your friends as well, which caused him to gain more attention and popularity. Your group wasn’t the most stereotypical popular kids; most just being known from sports or student organizations. Even though you weren’t that known, now that Satoru was part of the rather large friend group, other people began to notice him.

Especially other girls.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you dating, but you also didn’t make it a point to go around and announce it twenty-four seven either. Anyone with a brain and eyes would be able to tell you were together though, especially with the way Satoru always seemed to be attached to your hip and looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That didn’t stop certain girls though.

One of them was feeling particularly ballsy today, approaching where he sat in the dining hall while waiting for you to come back from the bathroom. To anyone else, she was obviously flirting with him. But poor, little, no-experience-with-other-girls Satoru didn’t pick up on it. He held conversation with her until you came back, an eyebrow raised and scowl on your face.

“Oh, hey baby! This is (random name) she’s a transfer student,” he said, beaming as if nothing were wrong. Turning to the other girl, he said “This is my amazing, beautiful girlfriend who I love so much! Maybe the two of you can be friends.”

The girl blinked a couple of times before stiffening under your intense glare. She stammered out some cheap excuse before leaving, which Satoru bought with no questions. The rest of lunch went on normal save for the bitterness you were feeling. You couldn’t even be that mad at your clueless boyfriend; it’s not his fault he was so kind and couldn’t pick up on social ques! He noticed your unusual quietness, asking you if you were alright. You dismissed him, saying you were just tired and you were going to head back to the apartment while he attended his next class.

When Satoru got home, he was expecting you to greet him like you do every time, but the only thing he was greeted by was silence. Around this time you’d usually be on the couch watching your favorite show or maybe doing work on the floor next to the coffee table. Confused for a moment, he concluded that maybe you were sleeping. You did say you were tired, right? You were probably just napping. He quietly crept towards your room and pushed the door open to see you wrapped up in your blankets. Your phone was propped up in front of you playing whatever random youtube video you found after doomscrolling for who knows how long. Happy to see you, your white haired boyfriend was quick to jump into bed next to you and hold your blanket-cocooned body close to him.

“Hi baby!”

“Hi, Satoru,” you grumbled, not doing as much as turning to look at him.

Wait.

‘SATORU’!?

After hearing what you called him, the man screams. Genuinely screams. Who are you and what did you do to his loving, doting girlfriend!? He wasted no time in flipping you over on to your back, hovering above you and looking into your eyes. You were caged beneath him, still sulking and pouting about what happened at lunch today.

“SATORU!!?!?!? What did I ever do to my beautiful, wonderful princess with a disorder to be called by such a name!?”

“That stupid girl from earlier was totally hitting on you!” you whined.

You swear his head could’ve popped like a balloon right now and immediately grown back with how quickly his expression shifted from concerned, to shocked then appalled.

“Oh hell no! How dare she hit on me when I have my pookie right here!? I will literally get your face tattooed on my chest so if a woman ever dare to approach me I’d rip my shirt open like superman to show it off then start barking! ‘Stay away, I’m taken!!!!!’”

“…then they would get to see your chest.”

“Okay nevermind, maybe that’s not a good idea.”

You laughed at him before wiggling your arms out of the blanket cocoon to hug him. How could you stay mad when he was so cute? A wide smile stretched across Satoru’s face as he stopped supporting his own body weight, flopping on top of you and returning your embrace.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“M’not mad anymore. I might have to get you a collar though, make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” you joked.

Little did you know that Satoru was now plotting something.

It’s been a while since that girl approached Satoru, never returning and thus causing you to forget all about it. Your boyfriend stayed true to his word, screaming and barking at whatever girl tried to hit on him after that like a lunatic. You really couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing at this point. Unfortunately for you, it was a friday and you had class while Satoru was off for the week. He walked with you to your first class of the day like he always does then returned home to do whatever it is he spends his time on while you’re away.

Typically, he would laze around the apartment, yelling at people online while playing first person shooters or rewatching every single Batman movie for the billionth time. But today, he had something else in mind. Today happened to be your 3-monthaversary. Very middle school esque, but Satoru couldn’t help it. You were his first everything and the only girl on his mind. He spent the day decorating his room, scattering rose petals down the hall and setting his LED lights to red, aka the freaky color.

“Toru, I’m home-“ you stopped in your tracks after walking through the door. All the lights in the house were off, save for the little battery operated tea candles leading to your boyfriend’s room. You were confused, but followed the candles and rose petals nonetheless. Upon entering his room, you saw heart shaped balloons floating about the space, more rose petals on his bed with your Toru lying propped up on his side in the middle of it all. He’s shirtless with a rose between his teeth and a gift basket in front of him. You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at the sight.

“You dork, what’s this all about?”

"Today marks three months of us being together. Now come get your present!"

You laughed again, this time amused by his enthusiasm, and sat in front of him on the bed. There were so many different things in the gift basket he so lovingly put together for you. There were snacks, refills of your favorite makeup and skincare products, your favorite scented candle and a cute little plushy. In between all those things was a long, short box that you couldn't even begin to guess what was in it.

You glanced up at your boyfriend who was buzzing with excitement before opening it. Upon removing the lid, inside was a baby blue collar with a heart shaped tag on it. You raised an eyebrow in confusion before flipping the tag over to read what it said.

'If lost please return to Y/n L/n'

Your gaze switched between the collar and your boyfriend a couple times before putting two and two together.

“Well…that one’s kind of for me….but it’s still your gift!”

“C’mere then! Let me put it on you,” you beckoned him closer with a smirk.

Satoru wastes no time in leaning closer to you, head tilted up slightly so you can wrap the collar around his neck and buckle it at the front. You sat back to admire the sight of it around his neck, the blue leather matching the very shade of his eyes. You caressed his hair and moved your hand down to his cheek, cooing while he leaned into your touch. After a while of this, your hand moves down to his new collar, giving it a gentle tug towards yourself which elicits a whimper from the male before you. Amused by this, you pressed your lips against his own, keeping your grip around the leather adorning his pretty neck.

Satoru continued to whine and moan into your lips, always being this vocal whenever he’s feeling hot and bothered. You pulled away from him, looking into his half lidded, pleading eyes.

“Oh, my sweet boy. I can’t believe you’d actually wear this for me.”

“Mmmh, I’d do anything for you,” he responds, trying desperately to press his lips back against your own, only to be stopped by the force of your grip around his collar. You chuckled at his needy yelp, lying down on the bed and gently ushering him on top of you. His hands roamed your body while you pulled him back into a kiss, pawing at your tummy, chest or whatever bare skin he could get his hands on. Growing even more needy by the second, Satoru decided that wasn’t enough and started to tug all of your clothes off. You let the white haired man do his thing before helping him shimmy his own remaining clothes off, leaving the both of your bare bodies pressed against each other. Satoru rested his body weight atop of you, slowly rutting his hips against your thigh, silently begging you for what he should do next. His head was resting against your chest, glossy blue orbs looking up at you through his long lashes that batted at you every time he blinked.

Grabbing him by his collar again, this time with both hands, you yanked him back up to be eye level with you once more. The man before you yelped in surprise, cock twitching against you at your newfound roughness.

“Go on, baby. Fuck me like you mean it.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he wasted no time into slipping inside of you. He shivered at the feeling of your slick walls engulfing him, shutting his eyes tight as he focused on building a rhythm. His mouth fell open into an ‘o’ shape, thrusting himself into you slow and soft. Unsatisfied with this, you decided you had to bring your boyfriend back down to earth. Satoru’s eyes snapped open and he was awoken from his daze by the sharp sound of a ‘slap!’ and the stinging sensation in his left cheek. He let out a loud moan and his hips bucked up into you before stilling completely, trying his hardest not to cum then and there.

“Eyes on me, pretty boy.”

Shifting his gaze back up to you and seeing that pretty smirk you always wore, he couldn’t help himself for much longer. Wrapping his arms around your waist he quickly began plowing himself into your dripping cunt, doing nothing to contain the breathy ‘aah’s and ‘ohh’s slipping past his kiss bitten lips. He did as he was told, holding eye contact with you as long as he could. Every time his gaze began to slip away or fade out of focus, he was always brought back by the warm buzz each time your palm struck him. Despite your rough behavior, you continued to let out loud moans of your own as a way to let your darling boyfriend know he was doing a good job.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the rhythmic squeaking of his bed frame and the sticky ‘plap! plap! plap!’ of his hips meeting yours. Satoru’s body was flushed a pretty shade of pink, skin coated in a sheen of sweat that clung to your own. A mischievous grin spread across your face, letting out an amused laugh when you pinched one of his pert nipples and his hips began to stutter.

“Mmmnh! Noooo, do that and I’ll cum!”

Ignoring his plea you continued your ministrations, legs locking around his hips and trapping him against you. His moans began to grow both in volume and pitch, signaling that he won’t last much longer.

“Cum with me! Fill me up, Toru!”

His pelvis snapped against you one last time, pressing his cock so deep inside you he might puncture a lung. Hot, sticky spurts of seed spilled into you as his back arched into you, head leaning back as far as your grip on his new collar allowed it to. Your legs tightened around him as well, keeping him pressed flushed against you as your weepy pussy gushed around him. Your juices mixed with his load, slowly dripping out from around the base of Satoru’s cock, leaving a creamy mess between your legs.

You let go of his collar and brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, whispering soft praises as you peppered kisses around his face.

“You did so well. My Toru always knows how to please.”

____________________________________________________________________________

taglist :) @sorenflyinn @ilovesugurugeto69 @iheartpotatoes @shutuppeter

it wasn't working for mobile sooo hopefully switching to my computer worked

[hoonieyun]

why... ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

an interview between you and your ex for a popular youtube show explores the reasons for your failed engagement and why you called off the engagement

park jongseong x reader

genre: angst, heartbreak, exes reunited

warnings: talks about relationship trauma, mentions of mental illness, profanity, 18+

masterlist - wc: 4290

15 years since you met jay. 

4 years of dating jay. 

3 years of being his fiance. 

and 3 years since you’ve seen him last. 

did these numbers mean anything to you? probably if you were the person you were three years ago when it was all that weighed on your mind as you looked at jay with tears in your eyes. that night often played in your head when you wallowed in your sadness, letting the darkness shroud you and envelope your being, the silence ringing throughout the room as you’re forced to remember one of the saddest days of your life. 

you and jay met 15 years ago through a mutual friend and after talking back and forth and trying to ignore the tension between the two of you, jay finally asked you out on a date which turned into several dates; which then turned into 4 years of being his girlfriend. 

“yn, we’re ready for you.” the PA says, peeking into the small room they had you waiting in. you give her a smile paired with a nod as you stand from your seat, following her to wherever they needed you to be for filming. 

if you met jay 15 years ago, then now would be 3 years since you broke up. 

she instructs you to stand on an X marker on the ground and quickly tells you what to do, walk from behind the wall, stand in the center of the set and in front of the camera and introduce yourself. simple enough, you thought. so you did just that, walking around the wall and onto the set where everything was a stark white but your breath gets caught in your throat when you see the face that you’ve been seemingly trying to forget for the last three years. 

jay sat there, on the stool with his arms crossed as he watched you enter from the other side of the room. he looked even more handsome than he did the last time you saw him and you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty as there seems to be an air around jay that you hadn’t witnessed when you two were together. 

“please, introduce yourself.” the producer asks from behind the camera when he and the rest of the crew, along with jay, have noticed you’ve spaced out and had been staring at the camera. you clear your throat before answering, muttering a small apology. 

“hi, i’m yn and today i’ll be doing an interview with my ex.. ex fiance.” you say, taking your seat from across jay who’s eyes have not left your figure since you walked in and although you wanted nothing more to lock eyes with him and take in his features now that you were much closer, you couldn’tbring yourself to do it because you’re afraid all you’d be able to see was the sorrow that filled them much like that night all those years ago. 

how long did you guys date?

your eyes were glued to the white floor of the filming studio, several scuff marks that you suddenly found so interesting as you focused on them instead of the interview you were currently filming. you weren’t even sure why you agreed to do it but it was all in the name of closure you assumed when sunoo, the mutual friend that introduced you to jay, set up this whole thing. 

sunoo said something about seeing the series on the internet and thought that it would be perfect for the two of you. sunoo kept in touch with you both after the fallout and has always hated how he managed to be at the center of it, trying his best to keep his two best friends together when you were being held together by a thin piece of thread. 

he signed up the both of you without you knowing and before you know it, sunoo was driving you to the studio while jay willingly abliged. 

when sunoo had told you what this was all for he apologized profusely but wasn’t going to let you walk away. he knows how much pain you had gone through the last few years and imagined that this was the only way to help you move on. he knew it was wrong to throw you into this, blindsided and unaware, but he knew it was for your own good. 

“we dated for a total of 7 years, as boyfriend and girlfriend for 4 years and we were engaged for 3.” jay speaks up after the silence in the room. you could feel him still staring at you and because you didn’t want to meet his gaze, you averted your eyes to the camera and nodded, silently agreeing with what he had said. 

everyone in the room can feel the tension between the two of you and one would think that this tension would create a great episode for their show, angst and tension filling the room about the history between the two of you; but you just didn’t feel like this was the right place to finally have this talk. 

you didn’t blame sunoo because he’s always pushed you to do the right thing but this was the one thing that you didn’t want to have to do. 

jay could tell from the moment you walked in that you were nervous. he was always good at that, reading you and understanding you when no one else could. he could tell by the way your eyes wavered, the way your lips quivered, and the way your leg bounced that your nerves were eating you up from the inside. 

so, jay did what he always did. took initiative so that you wouldn’t have to face the worries swimming in your head. 

what was your first date?

“i took her to a strawberry farm, we picked strawberries, pet the farm animals, and at the end the kind people at the farm made us several pastries with the strawberries we picked and packed up the rest. 

it was a beautiful place, they unfortunately got shut down a few years ago.” jay explained and you could almost smell the pastries from that day. strawberry turnovers, tarts, and croissants that tasted sweeter than anything you’ve ever tried before. there was only one thing that tasted sweeter but that was something you’d never be able to taste again. 

“i didn’t know that..” you gasped, looking up at jay when you heard about the news of the farm. you loved that place, albeit you only went that one time, it was a memory you’d forever hold close to you. the information of the farm closing down had instantly lowered the wall you had previously, causing you to break out of whatever resistance you had and instantly responding to jay. 

“when?” you asked, a small smile on jay’s lips after you’ve finally started to speak again. “three years ago.” he responded and it almost made you laugh. not the type of laughter that came from the chest when you would laugh and run out of breath whenever jay would tickle you, no. it was a bitter laugh, like you couldn’t believe that the farm you had your first date with jay closed down around the same time you two called off the engagement. 

correction– closed down around the same time that you called off the engagement. 

it was poetic almost but you weren’t ever fond of poems. 

who said i love you first?

“me.” you spoke up, you didn’t know that this question was coming but as soon as you heard it you were speaking before you could even think. a slightly shocked expression on your face when you realize you had spoken up so fast. “i did, i remember that day pretty vividly because it was our one month of officially dating and jay has prepared a whole dinner by himself but the oven in his apartment stopped working in the middle of cooking and he was on the verge of a breakdown. 

i hadn’t seen jay like that before and it hurt me to see him so hurt. he was trying so hard and i knew he felt like he was disappointing me because the dinner he had planned failed but i didn’t care. i loved that he cared so much that it almost brought him to tears but i just wanted to be with him, the dinner was just a plus.” you recall the story and jay is silently laughing to himself as he recalls the memory too. 

“it was supposed to be a perfect dinner for you, i prepared so much that week and my oven just had to stop working… we ended up ordering take out.” jay added. 

“it was perfect just as long as you were there.” you whispered, jay barely hearing what you said but you were loud just enough for him to hear it. a smile tugging on his lips. 

what do you think was the cause of your breakup?

“um– we were together for a total of 7 years, had known each other for a total of 15 and i was very happy to be with jay– when he proposed it was all i could talk about for months. that year was so magical and i felt like i was constantly on cloud 9 but… the year turned into two and eventually it turned into three and then i felt like the wedding that i had dreamed of since i was a little girl was never going to happen. 

every year that we were engaged i had brought up the idea of starting to plan for our wedding, location and date, things like that, but it felt like it wasn’t going anywhere. like i was the only one excited to get married and eventually the excitement was replaced with dread and doubt. 

i was afraid that the longer that we waited to get married that we would only lose love for each other. i mean– i never stopped loving jay, but it felt like the engagement didn’t hold the weight of the meaning of that word. it’s not anyone’s fault, especially jay’s, i don’t blame him for any of it because at the end of the day i made that choice. 

feeling like my love was slipping away and time wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. the longer i waited the more it seemed like my brain was just filled with doubt and no matter how hard jay tried to soothe my worries and tell me that he loved me no matter what, i couldn’t shake the feeling that the wedding was never going to come. 

and didn’t… all because of me.” this was the most you had spoken throughout the filming, tears stinging your eyes as you finally spoke about the pain you had been harboring for so long. jay always knew that you were battling with these emotions and he did his best to make sure you knew how much he loved you. 

he couldn’t let you blame yourself for this because he knew he had a part in it too. jay didn’t know why he kept prolonging the wedding. you were always so excited to talk about it and he’d always give you a short answer when you would ask. 

“soon, baby.” 

“we’ll get married soon, i promise.” 

he’d say, but soon turned to never and he didn’t know why. jay loved you, that was a fact, but the idea of marriage became more and more of a distant thought the longer the two of you remained as engaged. he wanted to marry you but the time never felt right to him and he didn’t know why. 

he still doesn’t know. 

jay couldn’t give you an answer then on why he always avoided marriage plans even though he was the one that proposed, if you were to ask now; he’d probably just stare at you. a blank expression on his face as he tries to come up with an answer that he knows he still doesn’t have. 

was it because he couldn’t see himself marrying you? 

was it the fact that marriage was merely a dream and not a reality? 

or was it the fact that jay felt like there was no where else to go? and that marriage was this last option that he thought could bring something new but it only brought dread. 

he could never confess that to you, you held so much pain already, it wasn’t fair to you if he told you that. 

nor was it fair that he’s let you live with this pain all these years letting you think you were the cause for all of this. 

he was a coward and he knew that. 

is there anything you’ve always wanted to tell the other that you haven’t? 

the silence was deafening, both of you had so much you wanted to say to the other but neither of you wanted to speak up. you went through the several things in your head that you could choose, which of those thoughts that has plagued and polluted your mind for years could you possibly present to jay that would provide you any sense of relief. 

feeling his loss of love and interest since he slid the engagement ring onto your finger? 

the growing distance between the two of you that he’d try to mask with an occasional fancy date that would only subdue your worries momentarily? 

the way you noticed that happiness became a chore for the both of you? 

so many different things that you wish you could tell him and talk about but none of which felt right because it seemed that you were always the one that was wrong in the end. 

and you knew that. 

“yn… i know our relationship was long and filled with so many good memories– but i felt like you were always fighting something internally that i couldn’t help you with. i tried my best to be there for you but you often pushed me away no matter how hard i tried to help you. 

it’s not your fault, i hope you know that but i could only do so much and at some point… i didn’t know what else i could do.” jay’s voice was low, a tone that you’ve never heard from him before. it was a mixture of despair and mockery almost. like he was telling you something that you already knew but reiterating it and centering himself in your own agony to make it seem like whatever issues you were dealing with directly affected him. 

in some ways, it did. you could admit that. jay tried his best to make you feel loved and to help you get through whatever you were going through, but you not once pushed him away. any chance that you could get to feel his love you grasped onto it like it was a lifeline. 

and it was. 

jay was your lifeline and when you called off the engagement and your relationship as a whole, you felt like you were drowning in something that not even jay could pull you out of because instead of throwing you that lifeline, jay just seemed to watch you be swept away by the waves. 

his words were a shock to you, jay knew from before you dated about the things that were running wild in your mind. your sense of detachment and attachment to people, trust issues, and other traumatic experiences from your childhood that would continue to torment you into adulthood. 

even now. 

so it didn’t feel fair that jay would use that against you.

“a lot of our friends and family  feel like the reason we ended was because of me, and i take responsibility for most of it– but what they don’t know is what drove me to do that… 

ever since we got engaged i could feel you pulling back. like you didn’t love me the same way and that the ring was merely a piece of tape to poorly patch up the cracks in our relationship– but jay, as much as it hurts to say it, i think you only proposed because you could see that our relationship was reaching its last leg and maybe you hoped that marriage would save it– and i thought it would too… but we both know that the longer we were together the less love we had for each other. 

i loved you so much and i know you loved me too but i just couldn’t shake this feeling that you didn’t love me the same way anymore and as much as it hurt me i had to make that decision because… i just– i didn’t feel loved anymore. 

no matter how hard you tried to tell me that you did and showed me you loved me with dates and gifts and trips… there was an emptiness there that only got bigger and bigger until it inevitably turned into a gap between us.” 

you originally walked in there thinking you would break under jay’s gaze, that seeing him after so long would have you in tears– and at some point you did cry, but right now, you felt nothing of sorrow. like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

and all you had to do was come to terms that maybe you weren’t the one to blame for feeling unloved and that feeling was simply because someone has chosen to stop loving you and it wasn’t your fault. 

do you regret breaking up?

“no..” you said, a quick and sharp answer as the tears once in your eyes seem to have dried up as you look directly into jay’s eyes. his gaze slightly wavering at the change in your demeanor; like you had arrived upon an epiphany; and soon guilt would eat at him. 

“i wish things were different..” jay answered, causing you to scoff at his deflection. “answer the question..” you said bitterly, cutting off the producer who was about to ask his next question. “do you regret breaking up?” you repeated the question back to him, testing him to see if he’d lie for the cameras similar to how he has seemed to have come onto the set with a facade of some sort to make it seem like you were the root of the problem when in fact, you were the only one watering. 

“no. no, i don’t.” jay simply says, a small smile tugging onto your lips. not one of pleasure, moreso, mischief. 

if you could, would you get back together?

“no, i think we’re in different parts of our lives now; but i think we could become friends again..” jay answers and you’ve grown tired of his answers. like they were rehearsed scripts that he had come up with to paint this picture of how your relationship was when in reality, it was the opposite. 

he made it seem like you were going through this internal battle and constantly needed to be coddled by him when in reality, jay would have bouts of altered behavior where it seemed like you were so hard to love. like it was a chore to him to love you and when you started to notice that, any normal person would start to recoil; as if they were the issue. and jay knew that. 

your behavior towards the end of your relationship was merely a reaction to jay’s actions. 

“i wouldn’t want to either, because i don’t think i could go back to someone who promised that he loved me but constantly made me feel unloved.” bitterness on your tongue as those words left your lips and you could’ve sworn you heard some of the crew sneer and gasp at your response. 

jay looked at you with wide eyes, like your words were a rude awakening for him as he himself realized at the same time as you did, that you knew it wasn’t your fault. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

jay ran after you once the crew had given you both the clear to leave, there were a lot of things going on in your mind, as it usually does, but right now a lot of it was anger. you couldn’t believe that after seeing jay after all these years and being with him for even longer, that he would try to play you in your face in front of these cameras. 

like he saw an opportunity and tried to start some smear campaign against you because he knew how vulnerable this was going to be for you. 

“yn, wait!” he shouts as you’re storming out of the set, “what? jay? what else do you have to say to me? are you going to try to tell me that it’s my fault again? i already know that’s how you feel but i refuse to continue to let you make me feel that way.” you spoke with a type of anger in your voice that he’s never heard before. the type of anger that came from betrayal partnered with anguish. 

“no– it’s just.. fuck, i don’t know, ok?” jay’s chest was rising and falling quite fast after running after you, you took a few steps forward, looking jay directly in the eye; looking for something that reminded you of the jay that you had fallen in love with and dreamt of marrying– but all you could see was the jay that dreaded to be with you. 

the jay that would release a sigh of exhaustion whenever you asked if he was okay. 

the jay that would try to make it seem like everything between you was perfect in front of your friends and families when at home the two of you barely spoke. 

the jay that didn’t love you anymore. 

“i mean this.. with every fiber in my body. i’m done feeling like i was the reason we didn’t work out because i made the decision that you were too much of a coward to face. you and i both know that i wasn’t the only one to blame but if it helps you sleep at night to think that, then go right ahead. 

because from now on, i’m going to bed at night knowing the truth while you try to convince yourself that whatever deluded and false reality you want to live in is the truth.

goodbye, for good.” 

and with that you walked away, sunoo had arrived in the middle of this argument and watched the two of you have a standoff, ultimately leaving jay speechless as he watched you climb into sunoo’s car. a narrowed glare on sunoo’s face as he looks at jay. 

“everything okay?” sunoo asks, afraid of how things turned out as he could tell you were upset. you took some time to steady your breathing before answering sunoo, you couldn’t even be upset at him for doing this because it brought you to a revelation you so desperately needed to find. you spent the whole car ride telling sunoo of what happened, tears falling as you retold the events of the filming, and sunoo felt incredibly bad that you had to face that. 

you told him it was fine and that you were somewhat grateful for it because you finally got the answers you wanted after years of feeling like you were the problem when you really weren’t.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

“are you ready?” sunoo asked as he looked at you in the grand mirror you were currently sitting in front of. you looked over at him in the reflection, eyes wide and a nervous but excited smile on your face. you didn’t think you’d ever be here but here you were now, hair and makeup done to a point of beauty and grace, your body adorned with pearlescent and ivory fabric, and a veil flowing behind you. 

“i can’t believe i’m getting married.” you told sunoo as you stood up from your seat, making your way to the entrance of the ceremony. 

if you told yourself that two years after recording that video with your ex-fiance that you would find the love of your life and would soon be walking down the aisle to marry him, you’d tell yourself that it was a lie and go back to crying over jay. 

but right now; it was everything you could dream of and none of it was a dream. it was a life that you were now living and so happy to be in. like all that pain and waiting was worth it and you’ve found the one. 

this boy that you were now marrying knew you from inside and out and had no problem waiting for you. he was patient and kind, and knew how to care for you without coddling you. he understood you on a level that taught you new things about yourself and most importantly–

he didn’t make you wait. 

he was always ready for you, ready to shower you with love and everything you deserve; showing you the type of love that you craved and undoing all of the mistakes that you had made that has caused you to build an unbreakable wall around yourself. 

although you still had a lot of pain to heal from; he’d be there for you every step of the way, holding your hand and not only watching you heal, but being a part of that healing. a person who loved you for your flaws and encouraged you to be the person you wanted to be not the person he thought you should be. 

a type of love that knows no bounds and flourishes between two people. 

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[yay855]

Honestly, that's a good point. Fair warning, the rest of this rant will have some big manga spoilers and is generally long, so I'm putting it under the cut.

Laios is the leader of the band, a human (tallman, which is itself another example of Ryoko Kui's brilliance, having everyone be different types of human and who does or doesn't count is largely cultural) warrior who is skilled and better equipped than his companions- but he's not actually that good a warrior, he's just really knowledgeable about monsters, which lets him fight through a dungeon easily- and which makes it hard for him to fight anywhere else or even make friends, since he doesn't understand how people think. His friends are there because they managed to breach that gap and care about him anyways, whether from being a friend of a family member (Marcille), still being under contract (Chilchuk), or simply having a shared passion (Senshi). Laios is the leader because he's good at what he does, not because he's actually skilled at rallying people.

Marcille is the mage, the fireball-spamming elf who acts high and mighty and who the party relies on for buffs and crowd control. Except she's actually a necromancer by specialty, spends a lot of her time researching illegal 'dark' magic, is genuinely trying to help people by doing these things, and she isn't even a full elf- she's a half-elf raised in a tallman kingdom as the daughter of the court mage, so she doesn't have any real understanding of Elven culture or politics or even magic styles, and the only reason she doesn't consider herself a tallman is because of her long lifespan forcing her to acknowledge herself as 'other' from a very young age as she watched her father and friends grow old while she remained the same for decades at a time. She isn't there to be a sex symbol, a picture of culture clash, or an immortal loli (barf), she's a nuanced character in her own right doing what she thinks is best for the people she loves even if she hates it.

Chilchuk admittedly sticks close to stereotypical portrayals of his race (obsessed with money, good at sneaking and picking locks, surprisingly cooperative with people they consider their own given the first two things, heavily resembles a young tallman), but where he breaks away from the mold is in his role in the party- rogues in fantasy stories are often portrayed as sneaky backstabbers or super-fast ninjas, but Chilchuk can barely fight- he knows how to use a knife and a bow and arrow, but he's just not physically strong enough to contribute to most fights unless things get really desperate. His job is to pick locks, disarm traps, and find secret passages- aka he's a skill monkey rogue instead of an assassin, echoing the likes of Bilbo Baggins himself in a way that few other stories do.

Senshi is the exact opposite of a dwarf as portrayed in stereotypical fantasy- and to be fair, he's an unusual person by dwarven standards even in-universe. He doesn't know anything about smithing or metallurgy, he doesn't know anything about stonecutting or navigating caves, Senshi is a cook. He literally had his adamantium shield and mithril dagger turned into a cookpot and cooking knife, and he mostly fights with an old chipped and worn axe he uses for chopping wood. He isn't the strongest fighter, he isn't the sturdy juggernaut able to charge into battle without a scratch, he's a chef who's been living out of a dungeon for years and eating monsters because he had nowhere else to go. But having a good cook who knows exactly where and how to scrounge for food as you delve a massive underground complex is essential for going as deep as you can, and we're directly shown that Senshi's presence made his party so much stronger and better prepared for what they faced even after they lost half their members.

And even better, every protagonist has at least one narrative foil who does follow genre stereotypes, and that's why said foils aren't the protagonists.

Shuro is the noble prince adventuring in distant lands, here to make a name for himself and find love, while Kabru is the tortured victim of dungeons long past who knows 200 ways to kill a man and is suave and charismatic to those around him- and Shuro ended up calling on his servants and slaves to protect and bolster him after Falin died but mostly just ended up navigating local politics, while Kabru is a worse adventurer than Laios thanks to not understanding monster biology or dungeon ecology nearly as well and always assuming the worst of others because of his trauma.

Namari is a proper adventurer trained in smithing and weapon and armor care, but the moment things went wrong, she just left the party to find another contract. And it's not like she doesn't even care, when she meets back up with Laios and the gang she actively tries to help them as best she can without sacrificing her own reputation, but she's more concerned with her career and the opinions of others than with helping the people she cares for.

And Thistle- I swear, he's the foil of three different characters, that being Marcille, Mithrun, and the winged lion itself. He's a full-blooded elf raised by humans who turned to dark magic to protect them, except he cared more about his idea of keeping them safe than about their happiness and wellbeing; every single thing he does isn't to do right by his loved ones, but to force everyone around him to stay perfectly preserved like a painting so he can pretend nothing will ever change again, all the while the actual people are slowly whittled away by their misery and depression, turning into crazed phantoms or simply going through the motions of their lives without actually enjoying the good parts. Thistle even managed to put a lock on the winged lion- the demon- by himself, sealing it away so the dungeon's normal rate of progression and consumption is halted in its tracks! He has literally forbidden death to exist in his dungeon, and now everyone's paying the price.

It's all inverted from the stereotypes of the genre, and that makes it not only unique, but more meaningful, showing us how giving certain archetypes more or less narrative weight can make a story more interesting, and how the stereotypical hero's hero often shouldn't be as successful as someone who has none of their charm or resources but has the exact right skills and knowledge and attitude to succeed where tragic backstories, charisma, and political power fail.

You can't march on an empty stomach, and you can't defeat a demon if you refuse to understand it.

Honestly, it's really fun how Dungeon Meshi haa the main party take on a teenage cat girl halfway through the series, except she's covered in fur all over so nothing shows even when she's naked, she's arguably the most skilled combatant in the group, basically everyone treats her like a kid they're taking care of, she acts like a feral cat begrudgingly choosing to adopt a group of humans instead of a needy kitten, she's a picky eater, she's immune to monsters that try to seduce you, and her past as a slave is directly shown to be traumatic and miserable to the point that her former owner literally made her have a magic seal on her neck that would murder her if she managed to escape.

She's basically the antithesis of fanservice catgirls. Every single trait other series use to turn catgirls into sex objects is inverted to make for an entertaining and interesting character.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

•~{ Heyyy, so I’m redoing This Post Of Mine hope you gremlins like this }~•

•Arctic Sea Nymph•

When Arthur heard from some of the sea life who would go to the arctic that there was a new siren pod that was brought to his attention, he was concerned about the possibility that the pod was terrorizing the migrational sea life or the humans who may be in the area as siren pods are known to very violent with anything that is around their pod or home.

So Arthur was already mentally making a plan to go find the siren pod and somehow get them to move to a less populated area without getting maimed in the process but he forgot what he was thinking about when he heard the sea live say that the sirens had a being with them.

It was unheard of for a siren pod to take in anything that wasn’t already in the pod or born into the pod so of course Arthur tried to ask more questions but the sea life wasn’t able to as before they could get to the being to ask them anything a siren that was around immediately started to attack them and started screeching and they barely escaped with their life.

So they came to Arthur to report what happened and to make sure nobody got killed like they were told to do.

And after the sea life was done explaining what happened, Arthur gets ready to head to the Arctic and find out what this.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

The G.I.W got a lucky shot.

When Danny just finished fighting the box ghost and got him back to the Ghost Zone and was already tired from school and dodging his own home security system so Danny was tired and was ready to just pass out into bed and be dead ( you get it ) to the world for at least three days.

So when the white van rolled up and the door opened Danny didn’t hear it so when the G.I.W started to go open season on Danny and managed to get him enough and mix that with his exhaustion he was out for the count and was taken by the G.I.W for “research” experimentation and put him in restraints and drove off with his pass out body.

After a week Jazz, Tucker and Sam were able to find where the G.I.W was hiding Danny and made a plan to break him out and get him the hell out of this world because they would rather have a far way friend than a fully dead one. So they set everything up got all of their weapons to break him out and made sure the portal was near and would close as soon as Danny went through and than they would all be safe.

The G.I.W got an upgrade that the team didn’t know about so they grab Danny and book it to the portal while they are getting shot at. All three knew that for Danny to be safe they needed to get him through that portal even without them so as they get to the portal they throw Danny in and….you get the picture.

So Danny is hurt (mentally, emotionally, physically ) and was in the Arctic which helped with the physically hurt [Thank you ice core] and he was able to stand the cold so he sleeps to heal up and recover before he thinks about what he should do next.

When he woke up he heard the sound of a young voice crying or well something close to crying so Danny followed the sound and found a very young siren crying on a piece of ice and her tail was bleeding from how the net wrapped around it it looked very painful and it would probably be impossible to swim with that so Danny unwraps the net while using his intangibility for when the little siren tried to claw at him.

After about five minutes Danny got the net off of her and when she saw that he had helped her he got this look in her eyes as she swam back to the larger siren that was watching the whole interaction with the little siren and Danny.

After a few more times of Danny helping the siren pod, two of the sirens [the mothers of the little siren girl] take Danny in as their child and protect him as such and with his new mothers they rest of the pod take him in as well and now Danny has a pod of murderous sirens who would die for him.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•Danny acts a bit like Nezuko from demon slayer does [the sleepiness and generally being chill AF until someone he loves is in danger than he goes feral, this boy is traumatized AF :) ]

•The siren that went ape shit on the poor sea life who tried to get close to Danny is the same one who watched as Danny helped her child so she is extremely protective of him [ and her name is Naia well that’s not really her name, Danny just calls her that and she responds soo that’s her name now

•Naia’s lovers name is Una and their child is Sura, Una also views Danny as her child and Sura views Danny as a big sibling

•Sirens choose their genders so most are gender neutral or intersex unless they pick one and stick with that one

•Danny get mistaken as a nymph because he is ethereal due to the ghost thing and mix it with the siren things he learned from living with the Sirens

•The siren pod lives in a large cavern in a underwater cave system and Danny lives there too

•Siren children are kinda like outdoor cats like they have parents but the whole pod treats them like their kid and the child treats the pod as their parents

•For sirens the more you care about and love someone the more protective they get for that person

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

[The jewelry was a gift from his new mothers (For sirens gift giving is reserved for children and parents and lovers) and in my old post you can see what the sirens look like.

~{ And that’s it hopes you gremlins like it until next time byeeee }~

[straylightdream]

pillow princess

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bang chan x afb.reader

after a stressful day at work your boyfriend knows the perfect remedy to help you relax.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): established relationship, romance, fluff, smut

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): slice of life

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluffy sleepy vanilla smut, unprotected p in v (mc is on birth control), fingering, creampie, cockwarming

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: this isn’t edited, sorry if there are errors.

🎧: shrike- hoizer

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

It’s been a long day to say the least. Somehow an eight hour shift has felt like a twelve hour shift. At this point you would give anything to finally be off. You stood behind the counter quickly making coffee orders as they were being sent through. Saturday morning shifts are always the hardest. It had been an insane morning and you felt like you haven’t stopped moving since the sun started to rise. Your bottom lip was captured between your teeth as you tried to focus. You were nearing the end of your shift. Honestly, you just needed a nap desperately at this point. You couldn’t wait to finally be free from this coffee shop.

You sat two drinks down on the counter and glanced down at your watch to see that you had two minutes until you were off. You quickly made an ice coffee and sat it on the counter. You turned to your boss who was working the register and said a quick goodbye. Rushing to the back you threw off your apron and clocked out.

Rushing out of the coffee shop you walked the short distance down to your apartment you shared with your boyfriend. You couldn’t wait to see him. Hopefully he’s home and didn’t decide to go to the gym with any of his friends.

Opening the front door, you found your boyfriend and his best friend Changbin sitting in the living room. They were laughing and joking around about something. You can’t say you’re shocked that Changbin is over. Most weekends your boyfriend spends Saturdays hanging out with his best friend.

“How did work go?” Changbin asked. Changbin isn’t just your boyfriend's best friend, he’s also yours. You met back in college and he’s the one who actually introduced you to a very shy Chan. Nobody wanted you and Chan together more then Changbin. He went out of his way to push you both together.

“I made a bunch of coffee,” you smiled as you walked over to Chan who had stood up and started walking over towards you. He wasted no time wrapping his arms around your soft body and pulled you into his chest. His strong hands roam your back as you cling to him.

You rested your head against his strong chest and murmured, “I need a nap desperately.”

He pulled away and pressed his lips to the top of your head, “why don’t you go take a nap?”

“Okay.” You smiled pulling away from him.

You headed off to your room. You feel like you could fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. Pulling off your sweater you toss it in the hamper near the closet. Quickly you push your jeans down your thighs. You walked towards the bed in nothing but your undies and a baggy shirt. This is your preferred form of pajamas. Crawling under the covers you curled up into a ball, and closed your eyes and it wasn’t long before you were sound asleep.

The feeling of the bed dipping down next to you caused you to stir. Looking up you find your boyfriend dressed only in a pair of boxers. He’s crawling into bed. You can’t wait to curl up close to him.

“Where did Changbin go?” You rasped still half asleep. Part of you isn’t even sure if this is real or if you’re dreaming.

“He headed home, and I was dying to cuddle with you.” Chan has always been a fan of cuddling. It’s rare you fall asleep without him holding you close.

You moved over and rested your head on his strong chest and pressed your body closely against him. Her soft thigh was moved so rested across his groining. You nuzzled your face into his chest. You weren’t sure if you could get physically closer to him. You would lay on top of him if you weren’t worried about squishing him. His hand rested on your round butt holding you close to him. He always jokes around that he can't sleep unless his hand is in your butt.

“You’re so comfortable,” you wiggled your body a little, getting as close as possible.

He let out a little groan as your soft thigh brushed against his groining. He loves when you get to cuddle like this but it kills him sometimes. You somehow managed to always get him all worked up without even trying. From the very beginning Chan had been addicted to your body, just like you were to his.

“If you nap with me for a half hour we can have lazy sex after,” you rasped against his chest. Lazy sex with Chan is always nice. You love when he takes you from behind while spooning you. You could get wet just thinking about it.

He leaned his head down and pressed his lips to the top of your head, “I like that idea.”

“I thought you would.” You sigh. “All you have to do is pull my thong to the side and slide right into me.”

“How am I supposed to sleep when you’re making me hard, talking about me pulling your cute little thong to the side?” He groans.

“I’m so sleepy-“ you moan rubbing your body against him.

“Is my sleepy princess horny?” His hand grips your butt pulling you closer to him.

“I’m already wet.”

His hand moves down your butt and dips between your legs. Pushing your thong to the side he groans at the feeling of how wet you are.

“Fuck-“

“I told you.”

“Baby can I fuck you?” He’s running his fingers through your folds.

“I’m too tired to do anything.” You might be sleepy but you’re aware you’re playing a game with him now. You’re tired but you definitely aren’t too tired to have sex with him. You just want to be a bit of a pillow princess right now. You want him to do all the work. You’re luckily your boyfriend is a saint and has no problem letting you be a pillow princess.

“Baby you don’t have to do anything. Let me do all the work.”

“Okay-“ You sigh.

Rolling off him you roll until you’re laying on your side with your back to him. You feel the bed move behind you letting you know he’s removing his boxers. The sound of the nightstand drawer opening signals he’s grabbing lube. Pulling your panties to the side you push your leg forward on the bed giving him more access to you. The bottle clicks open and moments later you feel him massage the cool liquid between your folds.

Slowly he runs his length through your folds. He takes his time pushing into you. His hand grips your hip. He keeps a slow and deep pace. This is your favorite kind of sex. You feel incredibly close and intimate when you’re together like this. Closing your eyes you moan. He feels so deep inside you. He’s always been a fan of any position he can take you from behind.

“Fuck-“ you whine. “You’re so deep.”

“You’re taking me so well baby.”

You know at this rate with how deep he is you won’t last long. You have no problem with cumming so quickly. With his stamina he’ll probably make you cum a second time before he finishes inside you.

“Channie-“ you fall apart almost instantly. Your walls contract around him.

He continues his slow and deep pace. “So good-“ He groans.

“Oh god-“ You’re moaning like a whore in heat.

“Can you cum again?”

“Yes-“ Your first orgasm isn’t even finished and he’s trying to get a second out of you.

His pace picks up slightly. His hand reaches between your legs and starts playing with your clit. You’re on the verge of overstimulation. Gasping he pulls another orgasm out of you. Crying his name out as you feel him paint your walls with his salty release. He moans your name in your ear as he rides out his own high.

His hips slowly stop moving and he shows no sign of pulling out. You both love cock warming after slowly sleepy sex.

“Let’s get some sleep babygirl.” He smiled before pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“I like that idea,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[konigsfavgirl]

inspiration from here 🎀 — had to make my own version, it just feels so accurate lmaoooo

König never liked the beach. Too hot, too bright, too many people. The sand got everywhere, the humidity made his clothes stick to him, and worst of all? The sun. Scorching, merciless, and completely unavoidable. He preferred the cool, quiet shade of the mountains, where he could actually breathe without feeling like he was being slow-roasted alive.

Yet, despite his many complaints, he found himself standing there, right at the edge of the shore, watching you run toward the waves with excitement. He didn’t even know how he ended up here, but he had a pretty good guess.

Your enthusiasm was his greatest weakness. He could handle combat, intense military training, and even life-or-death situations. But when you looked at him with those pleading eyes, practically bouncing on your toes as you asked, “Please, König? Just one beach day?”—he knew he had already lost.

And now, here he was. A 6’10 Austrian war machine, drowning in layers of sunscreen, sweating under the sun, and internally regretting every life choice that led him here.

When you took a glimpse of that pretty seaside, your eyes shone like there were gold coins waiting for you to pick them up, but König? He was doing that for you, not because he wanted to do it and he made that clear multiple times during your way there.

He was sent into pure horror when he realized that there was no shade anywhere. Thank God he packed a whole beach tent without your concern, and he was about to set it up immediately before his little angel got harmed by the hot sun.

König was a man of precision, but the sunscreen application? Pure panic. It wasn’t just the normal kind either. He frantically applied layer after layer to your skin, barely taking a breath. He was in a full-on frenzy, convinced the tiniest bit of exposed skin could burn you. “It’s for your safety, Hase,” he muttered, even as he smothered your face with a second, third, and fourth layer of SPF 50.

The moment you stepped away from him and into the water, he was already freaking out. Watching you wade into the water, König hesitated, his gaze darting from you to the waves. He couldn’t swim properly. Not because he couldn’t float or manage basic movements, but his height made it impossible to wade through the shallow water without his legs towering out. Plus, the waves didn’t seem to care about his size—they crashed right into his broad chest, making him feel even more awkward.

He stayed at the shoreline, awkwardly trying to look composed, but secretly dying of discomfort as he watched you splash around.

And then, it happened—the burn. Just a light redness on your cheek, but to König? It might as well have been a full-blown sun-induced crisis.

“NEIN!” He yelled, rushing over and carefully inspecting the area like he was checking for a wound, his brows furrowing in disbelief. His hands were all over you now, reapplying sunscreen like you were his most precious cargo, never mind the fact that he’d just done this not five minutes ago.

He was almost ready to take you back to the tent and wrap you in a cocoon of blankets until you were safe from the cruel sun. The waves and beach? Forget them. His main focus was now keeping you safe.

He looked around frantically, as if the itself was at fault for making you burn. “We need to go back to the shade!” he hissed. And even though you reassured him it wasn’t that bad, he wasn’t hearing it. He was already dragging you back under the tent, keeping you in the shade as if you might spontaneously combust if exposed to the sun for more than a second.

He indeed was overreacting but he would never forget himself if you got harmed by anything, he was supposed to protect you and keep you safe from any threat — he was smittened by you like he was never before and he knew that

[robertsfloyd]

Begin Again

Chapter One

A riding accident leaves you broken, mentally and physically. Your mother thinks the best move for you is to return to your grandfathers ranch, the place where you fell in love with riding.

But your grandfather has a new ranch hand. A hot new ranch hand. A ranch hand who just so happens to be your childhood enemy. Jake fucking Seresin.

Enemies to lovers, cowboy au

It had all happened so fast. One moment you were fine, riding along as you normally did. He was confident, calm and sturdy beneath you. It was just you and Percy against the world.

The next moment, heavy machinery was in your path, driving towards you. It would have been fine, all stuff you and Percy had dealt with before. But then the sirens started blaring, lights flashing and men shouting. There was nothing you could do to keep Percy calm, to stop him from bolting.

Percy took off with you. You held on, that much you could remember.

The next thing you knew, you were surrounded by paramedics and your horse was missing. You couldn't remember the ride in the ambulance. You couldn't remember being wheeled into the hospital. You couldn't remember being told that your poor, sweet pony had been found.

Found, but not in good condition. You were delirious, high on pain medication and whatever else they had given you when you agreed to pay whatever it took to get him better. But you would have said it regardless. You would have paid anything for your Percy.

You didn't know what cost more, your hospital bills or Percy's vet bills. You and Percy were in awful shape. All of the injuries the doctor listed off to you, from the fractured leg to the concussion; you could feel all of it. Back pain, pain in your shoulders. Your entire body ached constantly.

Your mother was at the stables for all of Percy's vet visits. She had grown up around horses and there was nobody you trusted more to look after him while you were stuck in bed. She couldn't do everything, you knew, didn't have time to muck out his stall or sort his food. But that was what you paid your stable fees for, for a member of staff to look after him.

The update picture she sent to you kept you going while you were in the hospital. Everything the vet said to your mom was sent to you in text messages, all decisions about Percy left up to you.

At the end of the first month, Percy was going on daily walks with your mother, but you were unable to move without pain and the help of a mobility aid. You were miserable, but your horse, your entire world, was on the mend.

The first time your mother took you to the stables, you cried. You had been discharged from the hospital and was finally back home. But being stuck in the house, watching shitty daytime television was driving you crazy, and your mom could tell. So, she got you into the car and took you to see Percy.

The sympathetic stares almost had you hobbling back to the car as you made your way across the yard. But then you saw Percy's head over the top of the stable door. You rushed towards him. It was still a hobble, and you were definitely risking yourself more injury at your attempt at speedy, but you had to get to him.

His ears were forward as you stumbled over, only remaining on your feet when one of the grooms grabbed you. "Thanks," you said as you pulled your arm out of his grip.

"Big guy missed you," Ben said, patting your horse's neck. You tried not to pull a face at him.

But then it hit you. "You've been looking after Percy?" You asked and he nodded, unable to keep the grin from his face. All of your money, going to Ben Ritter.

There was nothing wrong with Ben. He knew how to take care of horses, had worked as a groom for several years now. He was good on the ground, good when it came to grooming and mucking out the horses. It was in the arena where you judged him harshly. Whips and spurs used with enough force to leave marks on the horses. His rough hands pulling on the bit until it drew blood.

Yeah, you hated Ben Ritter.

Ben patted Percy's neck and something stirred inside of you. You didn't want him touching your horse, but you couldn't get close enough to stop him. You were as close as you could get without Percy touching you. Even if he stretched out his neck, he couldn't reach you.

"Thanks, Ben," you said through clenched teeth.

Ben kept speaking, but you took none of it in. You just wanted a moment alone with your horse, was that too much to ask? He fed Percy a treat from his pocket, watching as the horse reached towards you, trying to investigate if you had more. When you made no move to touch Percy, tings became awkward..

Clearing his throat, Ben leaned against the stable door. "You'll be back to riding in no time," he said, using all of his willpower to not glance at your fractured leg.

Asshole.

"But, until then, you'll need someone to ride Percy for you, right?"

"No!"

Several eyes were on you now.

"No," you continued. "Nobody is allowed to ride Percy, okay?" The vet hadn't cleared him for riding, anyway. Even if they had, you didn't want anybody to ride him. "My mom is gonna hand walk him and that is it," you said, loud enough for everybody on the yard to hear. "Touch my horse and I will end you."

With his hands raised in defence, Ben backed away from the stable door.

You used your crutches to hobble back towards your mother. Her look of pity was the worst. She'd had riding accidents of her own before, but nothing like this, nothing that left her unable to touch her horse.

Percy stretched his neck out towards you once again, but you were gone. Fuck, you were going to cry again. Your throat burned as you held it all back. You weren't going to cry again, not surrounded by your competitors.

"Can we grab his saddle before we go?"

Your mom nodded and pulled open the car door. She helped you into the passenger seat and laid your crutches across the back seat. Your lip wobbles as you stared towards the arena in front of you. Somebody was riding, jumping a small course. That should have been you and Percy.

For five minutes, you sat in the car. Tears fell, but you didn't sob. You just let them fall. When your mother opened the boot and placed Percy's saddle inside, you wiped the tears away.

You drove away from the yard, silence filling the car. You didn't have it in you to turn on the radio. You passed a horse and rider on the road, and panic took hold of you. They had no idea how dangerous it was.

Your mother glanced at you out of the corner of her eye. "You'll get back on," she muttered, mistaking the look on your face as jealousy. "Soon you and Percy will be back in the ring, getting win after win."

You didn't want that. You didn't want to get back on and start competing again. Maybe this was it for you. Maybe it was time to hang up your boots, retire Percy to a field and let him get fat and lazy. Maybe you would sell him on, sell him to somebody who could properly take care of him. How could you take care of him when you couldn't even touch him?

You wiped at your eyes.

"Wanna get ice cream?" Your mother asked.

Shaking your head, you folded your arms over your chest, ignoring the slight pain in your shoulders from the slight movement. "Just take me home," you mumbled and kept staring out of the window. For a few minutes of the drive you passed nothing but fields of horses. Percy should have been in the fields, if it wasn't for the accident, for the vet's recommendations.

Take me home. But you didn't go to your home, your little apartment in the city. Your mom drove past your street and kept going, taking you back to the house you had bought for her. You couldn't be trusted in your own apartment, your mother told you when she first took you to stay with her. You were too independent for your own good.

Your mom helped you out of the car and into the house. She sat you on the sofa and and headed into the kitchen to make you some lunch.

You hated this.

Your independence was gone, forced to rely on your mother for almost everything. You couldn't go five minutes without feel like you were going to choke on your own tears. Hell, you couldn't even touch your horse without panic seizing you.

Your Percy. He deserved so much better than this. He deserved so much better than you.

The thought of selling your horse had never crossed your mind before today. And this was the second time in a few hours the thought had entered your mind. It would break your heart, to sell him to someone else. But maybe it was the best thing for him. To get him healed up, back to his best self and sell him to someone who could ride him to his full potential.

Just six years ago, your grandfather had bought Percy for you. He was only young when my grandpa picked him up for you, barely backed. Percy was your grandfather's way of saying that he was proud of you, of where you career was going. Back then you had been show jumping on a smaller scale, only when you went to stay with him in the summer. He used to let you ride his rodeo ponies into competition until he bought you Percy.

You used to feel so smug, beating the all of the girls training their expensive show jumpers while you rode your grandpa's cutting horse, Chewie. By that point, your grandfather had retired him from the rodeo, used him to move cattle from pasture to pasture.

Nothing could beat hearing your name called by the announcers as you took first place.

Well, almost nothing. There were just two things that could. Having the rosette placed on Chewie's bridle and hearing your grandfather cheering your name from the stands.

That wasn't who you were anymore. You couldn't just jump on any of your grandpa's horses and ride into the ring, taking first place. You couldn't even jump on your own horse and ride into the ring, full stop.

You were no longer the girl your grandpa could be proud of.

Your stomach made a noise and you reached for your crutches. It took too much effort, caused too much pain, but you pulled them close and got them under your arms. Pushing yourself to your feet, you used your crutches to hobble towards the kitchen.

As you got to the kitchen door, you paused, keeping it partially closed in front of you. Your mom spoke and you took a moment to listen in.

"I think this'll be good for you," your mom whispered to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Oh, so she was talking about you.

Your mom paused as whoever was on the other end of the phone responded. That part you couldn't hear, having to wait for your mom to start speaking again.

"If anybody can get her back into the saddle, you can," she said and you felt panic settling in. No, no, no, no. "She's miserable and she won't admit it."

But she was right, you were miserable and and you weren't going to admit it to anybody. The fact that your mother had picked up on it through your silence was impressive, since you didn't think you were giving anything away. Maybe you weren't as stoic as you thought.

"I'll bring it up to her in a minute," she said and you backed away from the door. It wasn't the easiest thing with your crutches, a miracle you managed to keep yourself upright while reversing. "Thanks, dad. I'll speak to you later."

She ended the conversation with your grandfather and you listened as the phone hit the kitchen counter. As your mom walked towards the door of the kitchen, you hobbled back to the sofa. Sitting down, you rested your crutches on the cushion beside you and tried to gain control of your breathing.

Pushing open the door, your mother strode over to you, a plate in hand. She placed it down onto the coffee table in front of you and sat in the armchair across from you. "Midge," she said and you stared at her. You breathed in, tasted the smell of tuna in the air. Gross. "I've just gotten off the phone with your grandpa."

You pushed the tuna sandwich across the coffee table and sat back. "Yeah?"

She breathed in and leaned forward, elbows against her knees. "We thought it would be a good idea if you went to go and stay with him for a while. You and Percy."

You sucked in a sharp breath, sharp enough to make you cough. But you recovered quickly and stared across the room at her. Go to stay with your grandpa, at his ranch. You couldn't do it.

You couldn't fucking do it.

"No," you said and shook your head. "I don't think it would be good for Percy."

Your mom rolled her eyes at you and stood up. "Midge, honey, I'm not giving you a choice."

***

The backwards cap on his head did little to protect his face from the sun. He took it off to wipe his brow and returned to mending fences.

Chester Morgan watched from the corral. It didn't matter how many times Jake told him I got it, he still watched. Chester trusted him, Jake knew that for a fact, but he still watched, still make sure he was okay with his workload.

Jake wasn't the man in his seventies. He could cope with his workload. He was the one worried about Chester.

He dog pulled at Jake's shoelaces as he worked on fixing the barbed wire fencing. Last time the cows had been in this pasture, they'd used this hole in the fence to get out. Jake had spent the night with Javy, trying to get each and every cow back onto Chester's property.

To this day, Chester still didn't know about their little adventure. It was a secret Jake and Javy would take to their graves.

The hammer hit the nail. Jake held the other three between his teeth and continued with his work.

Wednesday. Jake's favourite day of the week. It was the day he and Javy headed out to Blue Sunday with Brisket and Donald. Javy clocked Jake and Brisket around the barrels and Jake helped him while he practiced roping. They couldn't exactly practice with the bulls outside of the rodeo.

After that, they would head out to The Drunken Cactus to see what trouble they could get into. Trouble that usually had long legs and flirty smiles. There was a reason Jake was called a bad influence growing up.

Jake hammered another nail into the wood. As soon as he was done, he pulled on it, tested the durability. Nothing. No creaking or groans from the wood. There was a reason Chester had him fix everything around here.

A whistle cut through the air. Jake looked towards the corral, to where Chester was waving his arm. Waving him over, he realised. Dropping his tools, Jake walked over.

It made no sense to him, why Chester had Chewie in the round pen. Chewie had been enjoying retirement for the last two years; he definitely didn't want to be dealing with whatever Chester was putting him through. Training him like he was a foal.

"Get on him," Chester said as soon as Jake reached the round pen.

He stared at his boss. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Chester replied sharply, but it wasn't vitriolic.

Almost reluctantly, Jake climbed into the round pen. He jumped over the fence and strode towards a stationary Chewie. His ears were forward as he stared, nostrils flaring as he began calling for Jake.

"I know, I know," Jake muttered once he had reached him. "I don't know what he's playing at."

Chester held Chewie's reins as Jake climbed into the saddle. Something he had done a hundred times before, but not on a horse as small or old as Chewie. If Jake was uncomfortable, Chewie certainly was.

Jake patted his neck as Chester passed the reins up to him. "Just keep 'im walkin'," he said and stepped back, returned to the middle of the corral.

Chewie was a cow pony. It had been a good, long time since Jake had ridden him, since he'd ridden any horse that wasn't Brisket or, on occasion, Donald. Most of the horses at the ranch were old, living out their retired years. Jake knew Chester wanted more for the ranch than retired horses and cows, but they weren't in the position for anything else.

Not yet, anyway. But Jake had seen the plans in the office, the drawings Chester's grandfather used to do. His dream was her dream, the one she had as a girl, visiting in the summer.

Chewie was bouncy as Jake rode him, like he was holding back. No, he was holding back, Jake knew him too well to think any differently. Last time he had been ridden, properly ridden, it had been around the show jumping ring, flying over fences. He had been younger then, but he still had it in him.

"Get him on, now," Chester said and Jake urged Chewie on. Just a faster walk, that was all he wanted. But Chewie sped up into a trot.

"Jesus, Chew," Jake mumbled as he tried to bring him back down. But there was nothing he could do but sit there and let him go. Even turning him towards the fence did nothing. But that was Jake's fault; he was the one that had trained him around barrels.

Chewie went as fast as he could in the round pen. Not very fast in the slightest. A canter and nothing more. But his ears were forward as if he was running free. He was enjoying it and, admittedly, so was Jake.

Finally, he slowed. He brought himself back to a walk and put his head down, neck stretched out. "All right," Jake mumbled as he patted Chewie's neck. "Are we calm down?"

Chewie stopped and shook. The first time he had shaken his entire body with Jake on him, it had thrown him, send him tumbling off the side. But it had become a classic brisket move over the years. Ever every run he shook as the buckle bunnies surrounded them.

Releasing a sigh, Chester approached. "That wasn't really what I wanted from you, Chew," he mumbled as he pulled them into the middle of the round pen, leading Jake like a child on a lesson. "Think we can make him beginner friendly by Friday?"

Jake's eyebrows rose as he jumped from the saddle. "We're not trying lessons again, are we?" He asked as he loosened the saddle and pulled it from Chewie's back.

Chester shook his head. "No, nothing like that," he said, leading Chester from the round pen.

Something was going on, something Jake wasn't allowed to know about. There was no secrets on Morgan Ranch, not unless he was the one keeping them.

"Get those jumps from the shed after lunch. Then you're free to go."

The jumps in the shed. Jake remembered making them at sixteen. It had all been a bit to impress some girl, so that she could use them to practice her show jumping. It had worked, sort of. She was impressed by the jumps, but she was more interested than them than Jake.

That was ten years ago, now. He thought about her sometimes, when he saw the bucking bronco at The Drunken Cactus, when her impressive, long standing record was on display. Many cowboys had tried to beat her record, but nobody ever had, Jake included.

Jake did as Chester asked and set up the jumps. He set them in the field, putting them out in an easy course. They weren't high jumps, but they could be made bigger. Brisket would hate it, I knew, but there was something that made him want to try, something like that longstanding record in the bar.

***

The car was new, the trailer, too. Just big enough for two horses, but the paint work seemed to shine in the afternoon sun. Expensive, no doubt. Not the sort of trailer found in Silver Ridge, Montana.

That begged the question, what were people like that doing here?

Jake stopped what he was doing, leaned on his broom as he watched. They drove past the paddock, past where Jake was working in the barn, and pulled up outside of the house. Leaning his broom against the the faded red door of the barn, He folded his arms over his chest and watched as the driver of the car climbed out.

Stephanie Morgan. Shit, it had been years since she and Midge moved out of Morgan Ranch, years since she followed Midge across state lines, to Colorado. Even after hours of travelling, she looked good. But Stephanie Morgan always looked good, a MILF in her own right. Jake watched as she pulled open the back door of the car and pulled out a pair of crutches.

She walked around to the front of the car, to the other side. Pulling open the door, she handed the crutches to whoever was in the passenger seat and stepped to the side.

You.

Midge Morgan.

Jake had never seen you look so frail before. Even when you were teenagers, and he dared you to take Chewie barrel racing. Chewie was happy to work, but you weren't a barrel racer. You came off at the first barrel, falling head first into the barrel. Jake had grabbed Chewie, holding his breath until you stood up like that.

This was so much worse than that.

You looked... Broken.

Slowly, you used your crutches to move towards the house. Stephanie stayed beside you, ready to help at a moment's notice. "Steady," she said, voice carrying across the ranch.

One of your feet were flat on the ground, the leg that you were balancing on. You moved your crutched forward just a little, your other foot following it. You touched your foot to the ground but didn't put your foot flat. Your jaw was clenched with every movement you made.

Broken, but you were so damn pretty.

Swallowing, he strode forward. "Hey!" Jake shouted, and Stephanie turned towards him. You kept on forward, so concentrated that Jake wouldn't have been surprised if you didn't hear him. He held out his hand, ever the polite cowboy, and Stephanie shook it.

"Little Jakey Seresin?" She asked, almost in shock.

His jaw twitched. He hadn't been little Jakey Seresin since before you left for Colorado. His teenaged years had been spent trying to shake the nickname and, until now, he thought he had done it. "Yep," he said quickly, dropping her hand.

"What're you doing here?" She folded her arms over her chest, but her voice was plenty friendly. But she was too busy looking at Jake to notice you getting further and further away.

Jake pulled it had from his head and held it down by his leg. "I work here now," he said, hoping his smile was somewhat charming. But Stephanie was still staring at him, so he kept speaking. "I fixed up the room above the barn and moved in."

Stephanie let herself smile. "Well, isn't that nice," she said and looked around. Her eyes landed on you, not moving fast enough to be far away. "Could get you Percy out of the trailer and put him in the barn for us?" She asked and gestured to the trailer.

Your trailer. Just like it was your car. Jesus, how much money did you make? Jake spared you one last glance, watched as Stephanie returned to your side, and walked around to the back of the trailer.

Pulling out the pins, Jake lowered the ramp. "Hey, Percy," he said as he walked past the partition in the middle of the trailer. His gray ears were forward as he turned his head towards Jake, a snort leaving his lips. He let him smell him, let him investigate his shirt and pockets as he untied him. "Nice to meet you, too," he mumbled as he raised his nose to Jake's face.

Pressing on his chest, Jake walked Percy backward. Percy did exactly as he asked, his metal shoes hitting the trailer ramp.

As soon as he was out of the trailer, Percy looked around. He kept his ears forward as he turned his head towards the paddocks, his attention on the other horses. He lowered his nose to the grass at his feet and began easing.

In the sunlight, Jake could better see the navy blue rug on his body. On either side of the rug, towards his rear end, was a logo. MM. Midge Morgan, your logo. Jake swallowed as he shoved his hand down the front of the rug and pulled it forward. It was thin, not offering Percy any additional heat. It was all for show.

Jake walked Percy into the barn. He walked close to him, nearly tripping Jake up as they walked inside. As soon as they were inside, the other horses put their heads over the stable doors, ears forward as they sniffed to investigate. Brisket reached for Jake as he walked past, kept his neck stretched out to sniff Percy. "Be nice," he said to him, warning in his face as He pulled open the door to the empty stable beside him.

Unclipping the rope, Jake stood against the stable door as Percy walked inside. He kept his nose down, sniffed the bedding. As he shut the stable door, he dropped down, neck stretched out as he rolled.

For a big, impressive showjumper, he was sweet. Curious, investigative. When he stood, he moved his nose towards the bars separating him from Brisket and sniffed.

You and your horse back at Morgan Ranch. What the hell were you doing here?

next

its here!! my cowboy jake fic! i'm so obsessed with this, you have no idea - 4.4k so far! i got half of the second chapter ready to go

just a btw, midge is named after highland midges! it has nothing to do with her height

[sh4rkkks]

NSFW ALPHABET ⁂ - simon ‘ghost’ riley

i’m back!!! so sorry for such a long break but i hope you enjoy this little treat 🫶

not my template!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

believe it or not, this man is very awkward in bed. despite his outward appearance of feigned confidence, he’s a complete mess after he’s fucked you stupid. he tries his best when it’s more than a casual fuck, grabbing a warm washcloth to clean you up. if he feels comfortable, best believe he’s crushing you beneath his weight while basking in your warmth as he lazily kisses your neck.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

simon’s- he’s a self conscious idiot abut his body despite being built to the nines, a soft plush layer of fat covering his muscle that makes him all the more desirable. he’s very proud of his biceps though. wrapping the strong muscle around your head as he fucks you stupid makes him feel desired in the bed way possible. seeing the scratches you left after clawing at his arm the night before makes him all the more likely to put you in a headlock later that night.

yours- this man loves everything about you. whether you’re on the more plush side, or have slimmer curves, he’s a sucker for you. i will say however, that thighs really do it for him. the feeling of the warm muscle wrapped around his head as he devours your cunt, or how he can squeeze them as you’re riding him, oh boy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this man has a breeding kink and you CANNOT tell me otherwise. the sight of his cum leaking from your pussy as you whine and squirm beneath him gets the blood rushing straight to his cock again. he also loves to cum on your plush tummy, watching as it rolls down your waist and onto the bedsheets…

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

loves dry humping. the idea of him getting home from deployment and being so needy he can’t even get his clothes off? he’s just rutting at your pussy through your thin panties, groans leaving his lips as he grabs at your soft skin and curves.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he never had much experience with anything besides a quick one and done before meeting you. but after one night in bed with you he’s practically got a pen and paper to wright down what gets you going. he’s an extremely quick learner, hitting the right spots pretty much on the first try after he’s got you in his bed, relishing in the praises leaving your lips as he asks you how it feels.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary- basic i know..but this man is anything but. he loves to have control in the bedroom, making sure he can see each reaction he can pull from your face as he pounds into you. palms at any flesh he can get his hands on, eventually collapsing on top of you and just absolutely rutting his hips into you for his release.

against the wall- having you pressed flush against the wall as he fucks you is the fantasy that runs through his mind constantly. your back pressed against his chest as he holds you firm to his skin. if he’s fingering you it’s even better, holding you up as your knees begin to buckle under the pure ecstasy that this man is making you feel…

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i wouldn’t say he’s stone faced during sex. he most likely will crack a shitty joke if he’s not pent up. he’s weirdly smiley during sex, not in a creepy way, but he just can’t believe that you’re actually his—actually willing to give him the pleasure of your warm cunt.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i am a strong believer in blonde ghost, so i will say that the carpets do in fact match the drapes. he’s not one for one night stands, needing a lot of the comfort and security that a proper relationship holds. that being said, i think that he trims from time to time, making sure that everything is cleaned up (major neat freak).

however, his partner? truly doesn’t give a fuck. there’s men who want a bush, men who don’t, but ghost really couldn’t care less. whatever you’re happy with, he’ll worship your body all the same.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

like i said before, i think that he craves the intimacy that comes from sex. none of the hate fucking bullshit or having threesomes like some people say (NOT DISPUTING THE HEAD CANONS OF OTHERS) he’s such a broken soul, someone who needs the feeling of intimacy to cope for trauma and the lost feelings of navigating sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

as we all know, he’s in the military. i would say his sex drive is average, so unless he’s seriously missing you, then he rarely jacks off. he’s also in the middle of a war field so he hasn’t got much time to even think about getting himself off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

goes absolutely feral for any type of matching set. this man will be slobbering all over the intricate designs of the matching bra and panties as he tries to ‘contain’ himself. he’s thanking you constantly while he fucks you, your panties wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet that he can’t seem to part with.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

if he were to pick any ideal place, the bedroom. basic i know, but this man is so possessive. he can’t so much as bare the thought of someone else seeing you during the euphoric intimacy. he likes feeling safe in the comfort of your bed or his, knowing it’s a secure place letting his mind ease.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

this man is like a teenager, literally anything will get him going. freshly out of the shower, shaved and dressed in a skimpy set? he’s ready to go. lounging in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, not brushed your hair that day, a face mask on, and brushing the crumbs off your shirt as you sit on the couch? his hands are on you in an instant.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

BDSM. he’s really not into any sort of pain during sex. whether that be you or him, his last thought is to try and cause pain during the special moment. considering his past and trauma he’s sensitive to that sort of stuff, never wanting to inflict discomfort upon you. of course, he wouldn’t mind leaving hickeys and bruises from gripping your hips, and your nails scratching down his back makes him feel weirdly comforted.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

munch. that’s my only word. he’ll get himself off between your thighs, grabbing at the flesh of your ass as he has your legs resting on his shoulders, his hips are rutting at the bed below him. he’s so desperate the bring you any sort of pleasure that he often just gets lost between your legs, unable to pull away when you tug at his hair, whining about overstimulation.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

a bit of both. he’s big into the intimacy aspect, but as i stated before about dry humping, he’s sometimes so desperate that he can’t be bothered to go slow. coming back from a month long deployment? he’s got your panties off the second he walks through the door, bringing you down to the carpeted floor as he jackhammers into you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

prefers to have his time with you, get you all stretched out before you take his cock. but he’s literally just a horndog there for your pleasure, so if you need a quickie, your wish is his command.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s pretty vanilla when it comes to sex, not that he’s not an absolute beast in bed, he just doesn’t tend to have any reason to experiment if you’re satisfied. he’s willing to try whatever you want, putting aside insecurities for your benefit and happiness.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

military man. give him a few minutes and he’s ready to go as many times as you need.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn’t own toys, prefers your cunt. if you have toys though, best believe he’s teasing and ruthless about them. pressing a vibrator against your clit as he coos about how ‘my cock no’ good enough, lovie?”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

another kinky bit…but i feel like simon loves to be teased. he’s a pretty usual dom, but when you take control…he’s a goner. teasing you? huge on that. loves pumping his fingers in and out as he denies your orgasm from you, a wicked grin on his face.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

wouldn’t say he’s one to moan or anything, but the sounds you do manage to pull are just as good. he’s grunting with every thrust into your warmth, swearing under his breath as his muscles tense. when he’s close it gets much louder, groans slipping from his lips as his head dips between his shoulders, breathing ragged.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

likes watching you change. not even in a sexual way (sometimes). he just admires the domestic feel of you getting ready in the mornings or for bed. watching as you strip naked without a care in the world, not shy to show your body to the man who worships the ground you walk on, sends his head into a mess.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i’d say about 6’5 inches, a couple veins, and heavy between his legs. you’d definitely need some extra massages between your thighs after the fact.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he’s got a relative sex drive considering his job and everything. however, as i stated before his on switch is the easiest thing to turn on, so i’d say about 2 times a day, maybe 1 depending on how you’re feeling.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

no one can convince me that this man isn’t a major insomniac, constantly staring at the ceiling as he listens to your soft breaths in the quiet night. he falls asleep much easier next to you, so id say he’s knocked out about an hour after you.

[anticipatedexhale]

How do you think arcane characters would react to burn scars? I have them on the back of my thighs and thought I can't see them everyone who can says they cover most of my thighs and there dark

Your burn marks are a symbol of strength, not flaws. They tell a story of resilience, and that makes you uniquely beautiful. <3 please never feel otherwise.

Burn scars.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, ekko

☆ ◞ summary: arcane characters reacting to your burn scars

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. A lot of sensitive topics like, burn marks , insecurities, self doubt, the way the reader got the scars are not mentioned, if anyone is uncomfortable in reading about scars or is triggered I suggest to please not read this

Jayce Talis.

The evening was warm, the kind of night where the city hummed with quiet life outside the lab’s tall windows. Jayce sat on the floor of his apartment, leaning against the couch, his arms stretched out behind him as he watched you.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, legs stretched in front of you, absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh.

The moment your fingers brushed over a particular spot, you flinched.

Jayce noticed immediately.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, careful. Not his usual booming confidence, but something gentler.

You hesitated. "Yeah, just..." Your fingers ghosted over the area again before you sighed. "Old scars."

His brows furrowed, eyes dropping to your legs. And that’s when he saw them.

Burn scars.

uneven marks stretching across the back of your thigh, the kind that told a story—one you clearly weren’t eager to share.

You shifted under his gaze, suddenly aware of his silence. "They’re not a big deal," you said quickly, a half-hearted attempt to brush it off. "I don’t even think about them most of the time."

Jayce didn’t look convinced.

"Can I?" He gestured slightly, not reaching out but offering the space for you to decide.

You hesitated.

Most people pretended not to notice them. Others stared without thinking, their curiosity poorly disguised. But Jayce... he was just waiting.

After a long moment, you nodded.

Carefully, he reached out, his fingers brushing over your skin—warm and deliberate. He didn’t recoil, didn’t wince, didn’t try to mask any reaction.

He just held you.

His thumb traced the edges of the scars with something close to reverence, his touch featherlight but grounding. "You know..." His voice was quieter now. "Scars aren’t something to hide."

You scoffed, a weak attempt at a laugh. "Easy for you to say. You don’t have—"

"I don’t," he admitted. "Not like these. But I know what it’s like to carry something from the past. And I know it doesn’t make you any less..." He swallowed, searching for the right words. "You."*

Your chest ached at the sincerity in his tone.

Slowly, his hand slipped down, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don’t have to pretend they don’t exist," he murmured. "And you sure as hell don’t have to pretend they don’t bother you."

The knot in your throat tightened. You weren’t sure what to say—if you even could say anything. So instead, you squeezed his hand, letting the weight of his words settle between you.

Jayce squeezed back.

And in that moment, the scars didn’t feel quite as heavy.

------------------------------------------------

Mel Medarda.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the silk-draped walls of Mel’s quarters, casting long shadows across the ornate furniture. A gentle breeze drifted in from the open balcony, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of Piltover’s nightlife.

You sat curled up on the velvet chaise lounge, legs draped over the side, basking in the rare quiet moment. Mel was beside you, her fingers tracing absent-minded patterns along your arm as she studied a painting she had been working on earlier.

"You’ve been quiet tonight," she observed, her voice smooth but laced with curiosity.

You hesitated before shrugging. "Just tired."

She hummed softly, setting aside her brush before shifting to face you fully. Her golden eyes roamed over you, perceptive as always, until they landed on where your pants had shifted slightly—just enough to expose the back of your thigh.

Her fingers stilled.

"Come here," she murmured, voice softer now.

You hesitated for a beat before sitting up, allowing her to gently tug you closer. With a delicate touch, she brushed the fabric further up, revealing the burn scars beneath.

You watched her expression carefully, waiting for the usual flicker of pity, the well-meaning reassurances you’d heard a hundred times before.

But Mel Medarda did not deal in empty sentiments.

Her eyes traced the scars slowly, as if committing every detail to memory. "These..." she started, her fingers ghosting lightly over the uneven skin. "They remind me of gold leafing."*

You blinked. "Gold leafing?"

"Mhm." She tilted her head, her braids shifting over her shoulder. "In my homeland, when something is broken, it is often mended with gold—highlighting the cracks instead of hiding them. It is meant to show resilience. Beauty in imperfection."

Your throat tightened slightly. "I don’t think most people would call these beautiful."*

Mel’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your gaze to hers. "Most people lack vision."

The weight of her words settled between you, unspoken but understood.

Then, her lips brushed against the scarred skin—slow, deliberate, reverent.

A shiver ran through you at the intimacy of it, the way her breath warmed your skin, the way her fingers trailed up your thigh with featherlight precision. She placed another kiss, then another, until the tension in your shoulders melted under her touch.

"You are art," she whispered against your skin. "Even in the places you try to hide."

A shaky breath left your lips, but for once, you didn’t pull away.

For once, you let yourself believe her.

------------------------------------------------

Viktor.

The lab was quiet except for the steady scratching of Viktor’s pen against paper and the occasional hum of machinery. You were seated on the workbench across from him, stretching your legs out absentmindedly after a long day.

It had been a particularly warm evening, and in the comfort of the empty lab, you had rolled up your pants slightly to cool off. You hadn’t even realized that in doing so, you had exposed a part of your thigh—until Viktor’s gaze flickered over, and he stilled.

His pen halted mid-word. His golden eyes lingered, brows furrowing slightly.

"You are injured?" His voice was quiet, yet laced with something unreadable.

You blinked, following his line of sight before quickly tugging your pant leg back down. "No, it’s just... scars," you muttered, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of his stare. "Old ones."

Viktor didn’t look away. "May I see?"

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because most people either avoided acknowledging the scars altogether or gave you the same well-meaning but rehearsed reassurances.

But Viktor wasn’t most people.

With a quiet breath, you slowly rolled the fabric back up, revealing the uneven burn scars across the back of your thigh. You didn’t look at him—didn’t want to see whatever expression he might be wearing.

Seconds passed in silence.

Then, the gentle scrape of his chair as he moved closer.

Viktor didn’t reach out immediately. Instead, he observed them carefully, like he was reading something important—tracing the pattern with his eyes as if piecing together a puzzle only he could solve.

"Scars are... interesting things," he murmured, voice softer now. "They are proof of endurance. Evidence that pain was felt, yet you remained."

You swallowed thickly. "That’s one way to put it."

His gaze lifted to yours, and for the first time, you caught something in his expression—understanding.

Slowly, Viktor shifted, rolling up the fabric over his own leg. The scars along his knee and shin were different—ones born of overuse, surgeries, the toll of time—but they were scars nonetheless.

"People see these and assume they know my story," he said, tilting his leg slightly. "They assume pity is required. That weakness is present." His golden eyes flickered back to you. "But we are not weak, are we?"

Something tightened in your chest. "No," you said softly. "We’re not."

Viktor studied you for a moment longer before, carefully, he reached out. His fingers hovered over your thigh—giving you space to pull away.

You didn’t.

His touch was light, barely there, but warm nonetheless. "Your scars do not lessen you," he murmured. "They do not take away from who you are. They are merely a part of your story. And if anyone tells you otherwise..." He huffed a small breath, a ghost of amusement in his voice. "Well, they are simply not as intelligent as I am."

A small, breathy laugh left your lips despite yourself. "Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?*"

Viktor smirked faintly, withdrawing his hand only to tap lightly at his temple. "Genius, remember?"

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingered.

And for the first time in a long time, the scars didn’t feel like something to hide.

------------------------------------------------

Caitlyn kiramman.

It had been a long day of patrolling the streets, and Caitlyn had returned to her estate looking exhausted. The moment she stepped through the door, she was greeted by the warmth of the fireplace and the soft hum of the house’s familiar sounds. It felt like a reprieve from the intensity of the day.

You were already curled up on the couch, a book in your hands, though your mind was elsewhere. Caitlyn’s presence always brought a sense of calm, but today, there was an unease you couldn’t shake.

As Caitlyn removed her coat and began to relax, she noticed you glancing at your legs, the slight fidgeting of your hand around the hem of your pants. She’d learned to read you like a book, noticing the smallest shifts in your behavior. Something was off, but she wasn’t sure what.

She walked over to you, gently resting a hand on your shoulder, her voice calm but insistent. "What’s going on, darling?"

You hesitated for a moment before you replied, your voice quieter than usual. "It's nothing, just... been thinking."

Caitlyn’s eyes softened, but she didn’t push. Instead, she perched herself on the armrest, her gaze never leaving yours. "About what?"

You sighed, feeling the weight of her gaze press on you. It was a warmth that made it hard to hide things from her. Slowly, you moved to pull your pants up slightly, revealing the scars on your thigh—old, deep burn marks that you had long since grown used to but never really let anyone see.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, and her hand instinctively reached for yours, her thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. "You’ve never mentioned these before..."

You swallowed, not wanting to look at her, but you couldn’t help it. "They’re just scars, Cait. They don’t mean anything."

She tilted her head, clearly not convinced. "I don’t believe that for a second." Her voice softened, and she slowly knelt down beside you, her fingers brushing the skin around the scars with tenderness, her touch barely grazing you as if you were something fragile. "Scars tell stories, but they don’t define you. Not to me."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. It wasn’t the first time Caitlyn had said something so reassuring, but it was the first time it felt like she truly meant it. The quiet compassion in her voice was enough to make you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"You don’t have to hide them," Caitlyn continued, her gaze meeting yours with gentle intensity. "You don’t have to hide anything from me, ever."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, not wanting to seem weak. But Caitlyn, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in you. With a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone," she murmured against your hair. "I’m here, always."

You allowed yourself to lean into her, the warmth of her embrace easing the tension in your chest. The touch of her fingers against the scars felt like a promise, a silent vow that no matter what had happened before, no matter how you felt about those marks on your skin, Caitlyn would always see you for who you were—not for the pain you’d been through, but for the person you had become.

"I’ll always be here," Caitlyn whispered again, her voice low and steady. "And I love you, scars and all."

You didn’t reply with words. Instead, you let yourself melt into her arms, the comfort of her presence washing over you. For the first time in a long while, the scars on your body didn’t feel like something to be hidden. With Caitlyn, they simply became another part of the story, and it was a story you were no longer afraid to share.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vi.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind the smell of damp concrete and rust in the air. Vi kicked off her boots as she stepped into your shared apartment, shaking the water from her hair with a tired groan.

"That was a hell of a patrol," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck before flashing you a lopsided grin. "Miss me?"

You looked up from the couch, giving her a small smile. "Always."

Vi plopped down beside you, tossing an arm over your shoulder with easy affection. "What’s up, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet."

You hesitated, shifting slightly, but Vi felt the tension immediately. She leaned back, studying your face, and her playful grin softened.

"Talk to me," she coaxed, voice dipping into something more gentle. "Something’s on your mind."

You sighed, glancing away. "It’s stupid."

Vi gave you a pointed look. "Babe, you know I don’t do ‘stupid’ when it comes to you. Spill it."

You hesitated before slowly rolling up the hem of your shorts, exposing the burn scars on the back of your thigh. You felt Vi go still beside you. Her usual warmth, her teasing nature, all of it quieted in an instant.

You braced yourself for some kind of pitying response, for words you didn’t want to hear. Instead, Vi’s fingers brushed over your skin—rough, calloused hands moving with the gentlest touch.

"How long have you had these?" she asked, her voice unreadable.

"For a while," you admitted. "I just… don’t really show them to people."

Vi was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the edges of the scars, slow and deliberate. You could feel her exhale against your shoulder before she finally spoke.

"You know," she murmured, "scars tell me more about a person than their words ever could."

You huffed out a dry laugh. "Yeah? And what do these tell you?"

Vi smirked, but there was something softer behind it, something careful. "That you’re tough as hell. That you’ve been through shit and still came out standing."

You swallowed hard, something twisting deep in your chest. "I don’t always feel tough."

Vi shifted closer, pressing her forehead lightly against yours. "That’s ‘cause you don’t see yourself the way I do." Her hand curled around your thigh, grounding, steady. "But I see you. Every single part of you."*

Your breath hitched when she leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss over one of the scars. Then another. And another.

Your fingers curled into her shirt as she whispered, "You’re beautiful, scars and all."

---------------------------------------------------

Jinx.

Jinx was never good at staying still. Even now, as she lay sprawled across your lap, she fidgeted—twirling a wrench in one hand while her other absentmindedly traced shapes on your arm.

"You’re awfully quiet today, sugar," she mused, tilting her head up to peer at you. "Not planning to ditch me for some boring, normal life, are ya?"

You gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "Nah, just thinking."

Jinx flipped onto her stomach, resting her chin against your thigh. "Ugh, thinking’s overrated. What’s got you so—" Her words trailed off as her gaze flickered lower, landing on the burn scars on the back of your thigh.

For once, Jinx went completely still. No jokes, no teasing—just silence. You knew she’d seen them before in flashes, but you had never sat down and talked about them. And Jinx? She never pried.

Until now.

"Where’d ya get these?" Her voice wasn’t mocking, wasn’t playful. Just quiet.

You shrugged, trying to pull your leg away, but she caught your knee, holding you in place. "They don’t matter."

Jinx’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Kinda seem like they do, since you never let me see ‘em."*

You exhaled sharply, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. "I just… don’t like how they look. It’s not a big deal, Jinx."*

"Uh, yeah it is."

She sat up abruptly, straddling your lap, and before you could react, she reached for a marker off the table. With an impish grin, she clicked it open and began doodling over your scars.

"What are you doing?" you asked, baffled.

"Making ‘em cooler," she replied, sticking her tongue out in concentration. "I mean, these could totally be lightning bolts—oh! Or flames. Hell, we could even add little skulls, make it look all badass, like, ‘yeah, I survived a hellstorm, what of it?’"

Despite yourself, you laughed. "Jinx—"

"Shh, shh, artistic genius at work," she interrupted, tapping your nose with the marker.

You shook your head, but you didn’t stop her. Her focus shifted as she ran a gloved hand down your thigh, fingertips barely grazing over the scarred skin.

Then, softer, she murmured, "Does it still hurt?"

Your chest tightened. "Not physically."

Jinx hummed, twirling the marker between her fingers. "Yeah… I get that."

For a second, there was nothing but the sound of the city outside. Then Jinx leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of the scars, quick but sincere.

"There. Now it’s magic. You’re stuck with me forever."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt lighter. "Is that how magic works?"

"Duh." She kissed another one, then another, grinning against your skin. "You’re mine, and I’m yours. No stupid scars change that."

You reached up, brushing her cheek. "You’re a menace, you know that?"

Jinx beamed. "And you love it."

And yeah. You did.

------------------------------------------------

Ekko.

The Firelights’ hideout was quieter than usual tonight. Most of the crew had already turned in, leaving just you and Ekko sitting on the worn-out couch, the soft hum of old music crackling from a beat-up radio.

Ekko had his legs stretched out, arms draped behind his head, watching you with that easygoing gaze of his. "You’ve been weird today," he finally said. "What’s up?"

You hesitated, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts. "It’s nothing."

Ekko arched a brow. "Right. And I’m Councilor Jayce Talis."

You huffed a laugh, but it quickly faded as you shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep your legs tucked beneath you. Unfortunately, Ekko was too damn observant for his own good. His eyes flickered downward, catching the movement—then landing on the burn scars on the back of your thigh.

His expression faltered. "Yo... what happened?"

"It’s nothing," you said quickly, shifting to pull your legs away, but Ekko reached out, stopping you with a hand on your knee.

"Nah. Don’t do that." His voice was gentle but firm. "You always let me ramble about my scars. What makes yours different?"

You swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "Because they’re ugly."

Ekko frowned. "Ugly?"

"Yeah." You exhaled sharply. "People stare. Whisper. It just… reminds me of shit I don’t wanna think about."

Ekko was quiet for a moment. Then, without warning, he shifted, adjusting his weight until he was kneeling in front of you, his hands braced on either side of your legs.

"Look at me," he said softly.

You hesitated before finally meeting his gaze. His eyes weren’t filled with pity. No forced reassurances. Just raw, quiet understanding.

"You know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured. "Somebody strong enough to still be here. Somebody who’s been through hell and didn’t let it break ‘em."

His fingers traced feather-light over the scars—not afraid to touch, but careful, like he was memorizing them. "You think these make you ugly? Nah. They just prove that you survived something meant to take you out. That’s powerful."

Your throat tightened. "I don’t always feel powerful."

Ekko huffed out a small smile, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss against one of the scars. "Then let me remind you."

Another kiss. And another. His lips were warm, grounding, a silent promise in every touch. You closed your eyes, exhaling as you let yourself lean into his presence.

"You’re still you," he murmured against your skin. "Scars don’t change that. They never will."

------------------------------------------------

I must apologize to all of you because of such a delay I have been dealing with alot lately and also last year of highschool so much Happening BUT PUSHING THROUGH please send requests tho! I LOVEEE em!

[aleskie]

18+ nsfw below the cut -> MDNI

just think about your boyfriend who is so gentle and so caring.

who makes you breakfast on the rare mornings he gets to spend pampering you—carefully plating everything just the way you like it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he sets it down in front of you.

who opens doors for you without a second thought, his touch warm and steady as he keeps a firm hand on your hip, effortlessly guiding you through crowded streets, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re his.

who carries your groceries inside without you even having to ask, always quick to grab the heavy bags, always there to reach for the things just out of your grasp—because he never wants you to struggle, not when he can help.

who absolutely hates anything that makes you upset—who watches your expression like it’s the most important thing in the world, who softens his voice when he knows you need comfort, who would do anything to keep that smile on your face.

he’s bothered by whatever bothers you. and he’s upset when you get upset.

trust that he’ll do anything in his power to fix things and make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

the orange that broke your nail? he’s pre-peeling all the fruit at home from now on, and don’t worry—he’s already booked an appointment with your nail tech to get you a fresh set.

the creaky doors and floorboards that creep you out on the nights he’s out of town? he’s pulled the toolbox from storage, spent hours watching youtube tutorials, and won’t rest until everything is silent and secure.

your feet start hurting from your shoes in the middle of your walks together? he’s carrying you around town—no embarrassment, no hesitation, just pure devotion that makes him forever want to make sure that you never shed a tear.

well… most of the time, anyway.

it’s different on those nights when he snaps his hips into you, forcing you to sink your teeth into his shoulder, desperate to keep the neighbors from calling in a complaint.

“don’t hold back, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so deep it leaves you breathless, “wanna hear your pretty noises.”

his mouth trails down your neck to your collarbone, leaving a painting of bruises you’ll have to cover for the next couple of days. he groans at the way you shudder beneath him, your body reacting to his every move, clinging to him as though he’s the only thing tethering you to reality. 

“so good for me,” he rasps, grinding against you, savoring the way you tremble, “taking me so well.”

he gazes down at you, awed by his own luck—how someone as beautiful as you is his. even now, completely bare before him, breath ragged, hair a mess, skin blooming with the marks he left behind, you look utterly wrecked. but nothing excites him more than the way your lips part in a silent plea, the way your fingers clutch at him, pulling him closer, as if the space between you is unbearable.

he can’t get enough of it.

can’t get enough of the way you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in close as pleasure overtakes you. how your moans rise in pitch, desperate and unrestrained. how your fingers clutch at him, nails digging into his skin as your body trembles beneath him. how he feels the warm tears slip down your face as you whimper, begging him to let you finish—how your walls tighten around him, pulling him into your undoing.

and fuck, that’s all it takes to send him over the edge too.

he groans against your skin, rutting into you as waves of pleasure crash over him, his body shuddering with the force of it. he holds you through it, soothing you, grounding you, whispering sweet praises as he brings you both down from the high.

god, he loves it. loves you. loves to worship you. loves keeping you safe from the world. loves the way you unravel beneath him, fall apart in his arms, knowing he’s the only one who gets to put you back together.

and maybe, he thinks, just maybe, making you cry is a little rewarding…sometimes.

unedited and non-specific, but was written for the following:  nico hischier  quinn hughes  lando norris  oscar piastri

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe x low maintenance gf headcanons

cw: fluff, mentions of emotionally abusive family dynamics, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex but no details)

you’d always been treated as some sort of third parent, a therapist, a friend but never what you were: a daughter

that all changed when you started dating rafe

on top of being mistreated by your family, you’d never had a bf who treated you right

the first time rafe brought you flowers you cried, he thought he’d done something wrong but you were so touched you couldn’t say anything as you hugged him tight

he made sure to bring you flowers often, making sure you never ran out. you remember finding a flower from your bouquet in his car, asking him why he had it. “when it wilts i know i gotta get you more.” you’d proceeded to make him pull over.

it was like he was dead set on making you fall even more in love when he said, “as fucking great as that was, i don’t do these things for sex baby, i don’t expect anything okay?” you told him you knew that, which you didn’t actually since all the guys you had been with before seemed to be like that, and proceeded to kiss him some more.

to him treating you like a princess came naturally, he was never good at expressing himself so buying you presents, taking care of you, doing things for you was just second nature

in the beginning he thought it was cute how appreciative you were but when you still got shocked from his actions after months he realized you had just never been treated how you deserve

and that pissess him off

he makes it a point to treat you like an absolute princess, not even letting you open a single door by yourself, you don’t even remember the last time you put your heels on by yourself because he was always crouching down to help you before you could think about it

“rafe if you spoil me so much ill get used to it.” you murmured as you watched your 6’2 gently place your heeled foot on his knee so he could buckle the shoe. his touch was always so gentle, as if he’d hurt you like this.

“that’s kinda the point angel,” he says it without hesitation, brows a bit furrowed as he looks for the best notch that won’t cause you discomfort. you think you might start crying again but you bite the inside of your cheek and kiss him when he stands up

rafe hates how your family treats you, but he holds his tongue because he knows you love them it doesn’t matter to him if your family hates them, he know he should seek their approval but he doesn’t think they deserve to dictate any part of your life

he’s holding back until your mom oversteps her bounds in front of him and he just has to step in, taking over whatever thing she told you to do even though he knew your mother was perfectly capable. he guises it as being a good future son-in-law

“it’s okay rafe-“ you say it without realizing, so used to taking the load off of others.

“you can ask me from now on if you need anything,” he looks pointedly at your mother with a smile you know is fake. you just brush it off and think rafe is just trying to make a good impression. you don’t know he doesn’t give a fuck what your parents think. he even starts hating your sibling.

your brother is older than you but never acts that way. when you mentioned an older brother he expected someone protective of you. he was met with someone doted on by your mother, irresponsible and immature and uncaring of his sister. it seemed like you were the older sibling.

you’d been living with your parents while you both dated, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with it until rafe gets you to move out to live with him. your parents are against it at first but with the help rafe has been they have little reason to refuse him.

when you do move out you realize how much better everything is. you’re not your mother’s caretaker, or your parent’s marriage counselor, or even your brother’s mom. you’re you. and you can finally breathe. rafe doesn’t expect anything from you and it slightly unnerves you, how could he take care of you without expecting anything in return?

he pays for everything, even if you push back at first, he replaces your card in your wallet with his going as far as hiding your card and he knows you have a job and that you can afford it yourself but he doesn’t see why you have to

you’d gotten your nails done and shown them to him and when he didn’t see a charge on his card he pouted for a whole day until you gave in and agreed to use it next time

but rafe knows you’re holding back, he can see that you’re spending frugally. he doesn’t want you to, in fact nothing would make him happier than seeing a dent taken out of his bank account because of his beautiful caring girlfriend

you remember your first date when he got offended that you’d offered to split the bill, he was even more shocked when you thanked him profusely after for paying

when you whine about him taking your card he finally has to speak up, “baby, what’s yours is mine right?” you nod without pause, you loved when rafe drove your car or used your skincare. it felt so intimate and domestic like you were a married couple, the thought bringing heat to your face. “right, so what’s mine is yours.” and you can’t really refute that.

one day when he’s drying your hair after your shower, you can’t help but ask, “why are you so nice to me rafey?”

“i love you, s’that simple”

“i love you too but no one’s ever been this nice to me.”

“no ones ever been as nice to me as you are either, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong right?” he always has a way of making you see his side so effortlessly you have to agree. you could never argue that rafe didn’t deserve the amount of love you gave him or more.

“yeah, thank you for taking care of me”

“‘you gonna thank me for the rest of our lives?” you just stare at him blankly and rafe watches the tears well up in your eyes. “hey don’t cry baby, you can thank me as many times as you want okay? just don’t go thinking you deserve any less than this.”

“i’m never letting you go.”

“i’m counting on it.”

on your anniversary, rafe buys you a car and even though you do thank him profusely and maybe cry a little it doesn’t turn your stomach with anxiety on how to thank him properly or that you don’t deserve it. instead you spend the night loving your boyfriend as much as he loves you. you realize rafe just has a different way of showing it.

a/n: instead of crashing out ab my family i wrote this :)

taglist: @ggraycelynn @clar2aa