#is this what love feels like a heart attack

[azullumi]

"to your never, to my nothings" ; phainon

premise— he had never known the extent of his affection, of his adoration, until he had looked for you everywhere he went, searching for a semblance of you in a crowd. an unfortunate thing, however, as everyone knows that he likes you, except you.  content tags & warnings — pairing: phainon x gn!reader | one-sided pining (somehow), fluff, v3.0 trailblaze mission mentioned and used, lovesick phainon i advocate, reader is a normal citizen, phainon worries about reader, not proofread | wc: 1.4k | tagging: @felibrary

"jellyfish" — i hit my shin against the edge of the table while i was writing this and i nearly died

Not a single person is unaware of the affections a certain Chrysos Heir holds towards you.

The three children who bear different smiles were the first to notice—subtle, fleeting glimpses that betrayed PHAINON's carefully composed facade. They see the gleam in his eyes, talking—or gossiping—it among themselves even as he stands right there, lips pressed into a thin line, unable to protest without confirming their suspicions. The heat creeping up his neck is answer enough.

He can’t say anything against it, but only asking them to not tell anyone about it, albeit they tease him further. However, nothing can escape the golden threads of a certain demigod as the man found himself conversing in a topic about the weight of his feelings and the weight of his responsibility.

Then guess what happens after? Yes, news travels fast—like wildfire carried by the idle breeze—reaching Mydei because how come he also has something to say?

And of course; “Lord Phainon, your ears are red.” The lady, adorned with flowers, would say as they walked away from your store after the man himself insisted that he had to check on something, on you. Phainon brushes it off, muttering something about the weather being unusually warm. Albeit his deflection is as transparent as glass and the only thing helping him is the fact that he's a step ahead and Castorice couldn’t see the red that dusts his cheek.

He knows he adores you, and perhaps it is a terrible thing that he loves you more than he loves himself, because your name itself reverberates through the hollow chambers of a heart that beats only for you, his thoughts composing a fine melody that yearns for you to feel the same. And when the Titan of Strife had come to strike the city, the tremble of his fingers and the falter of his composure disturbed the calm waters of his gaze. 

“The city is under attack!”

The sound of rubble crashing down, a cloud of dust and thick smoke consuming the place, chaos and screams everywhere filling all of his senses. His eyes flick over from one place to another, his feet never stopping as he runs, brandishing his blade against titankins who stand in his way. His gaze searched for you amidst the fire and debris but you were nowhere to be found; he had asked citizens for any sights of you and got nothing at the same.

Fear seeps into his skin, violently clawing and numbing him, an icy grip tightening around his chest. But before he could let the feeling consume him, a fragile, desperate voice pierces through the haze of destruction.

“Phainon!” His head whips around so quickly you fear it could have snapped in half. A blur of smoke and shattered concrete, and then, you’re there. Relief washed over him like a violent wave and he nearly dropped his claymore at once; the heavy weight that dragged his footsteps against pavement became light, his legs moving before his mind could catch up, and before you could even comprehend it, you’re pulled in a tight embrace.

“You’re alright.” He says, low and breathless, his voice trembling as words stumble out, scratched with exhaustion and raw relief. You feel him relax as you pat his back, comforting him as the warmth of his own spill into yours. 

Phainon releases you moments after, his hands lingering as he checks up on you for any wounds you might have. His expression doesn’t relent and you have to reassure him that you’re fine—but he doesn’t believe you, not until he’s certain with his own eyes. However, his fingers brush against a spot on your arm, and before you can stifle it, a wince slips past your lips.

Thus, he sees it—a gash that begins from your forearm, extending to near your elbow, and his face tightens with a grimace. You jerk your arm away instinctively, turning from him to hide the wound, and the gesture cuts deeper than you intend. His lips part, trembling slightly, trying to find the words to say.

His hand tries to reach for you but it simply hangs in the air, hesitation lingering in his bones, and it falls away to his side.

“Phainon,” You say firmly, your gaze stilling on him, laced with conviction as if nothing he will say will move you. “ I’m okay, but there are others who are not.”

“But—”

“You must go.”

He is reminded of his responsibility once more, of the constant voice of his duty whispering against his ear, of the weight of the prophecy and his title—it draws a blatant line between you and him, making him fearful to cross it.

A bitter smile crosses your lips when you see his reluctance, your voice taking on a gentler tone when you speak: “It’s alright, I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me.” Your words don't scour the tension on his shoulders but it managed to carve away the sharp edges of his worry. Not entirely, but enough. He exhales a slow, weary sigh—a quiet surrender—and steps closer. 

Without a word, Phainon tears a strip of fabric from his cape, the sound of ripping cloth sharp against the quiet between you. The chaos, the sound of destruction around you seem to have faded into nothing as the world holds its breath for the two of you. 

His hands move with practiced care, fingers steady despite the storm lingering behind his eyes. He wraps the makeshift bandage around your wound, his touch feather-light, as if afraid you might shatter under the weight of it. His brows furrowed with concentration, but there’s a softness there too, woven into the way he avoids pressing too hard, the way his thumb brushes over your skin like an apology he can’t speak aloud. All the while, you watch him, listening as he tells you to look for the High Priest, Tribios, for safety.

You don’t say a word, instead, you just nod, because it’s easier than admitting the fear clawing at your ribs. His hand hovers near yours, as if he wants to say more, do more—but instead, he steps back, leaving a hollow space where his warmth had just been.

And he leaves.

But you, the recipient of these affections, however, is oblivious. The very person who mistakes every small gesture, every stolen glance, every carefully chosen word, as nothing more than the courtesy of a Chrysos Heir fulfilling his duty. You dismiss his offers of assistance with casual gratitude, his thoughtful gifts as tokens of mere friendship. You brush off the moments when his gaze lingers too long, the way his voice softens when it’s your name on his lips.

“You’re a great friend, Phainon.” You’ve told him once. Friend. Friend. The word itself echoes, clinging to the corners of his mind, a bittersweet anthem that both comforts and torments. He wears the title with a quiet resignation, even as his soul yearns for more.

But who was he to expect more? After all, he’s not pursuing you with grand gestures or bold confessions, the way love stories are. Yet, it’s the small things that betray him—the quiet, unnoticed acts that slip through the cracks of his careful restraint.  Like how he willingly takes the longest routes, detours woven into his path with the fragile hope of glimpsing you by chance. Like how his hands seem to find trinkets and gifts that remind him of you, delicate offerings tucked into his pockets until he can gather the courage to present them, just to see that fleeting smile bloom on your lips.

And it is never for the hope of you liking him back. But surely, surely you should notice.

Maybe it’s the way his voice falters slightly when he says your name, or how his gaze softens in a crowd when he finds you, like a lighthouse catching sight of home. Maybe it’s the silence between his words, filled with everything he wishes he could say but can't because his feelings are messy, irrational things—and yet, here he is, drowning in them.

Maybe it’s the way he stands a little too close, but not close enough, like the distance is both a comfort and a curse. 

But you don’t notice. And perhaps you never will.

Yet, even if his words remain unheard, even if his gestures remain unseen, even if you’ll never know, he finds solace in being able to adore you from afar. The fire consumes him quietly, burning bright and unseen, tucked beneath the layers of his being. And he carries it quietly, like a secret melody only he can hear—serene, enduring, and his alone, etched not in words, but in the spaces between.

© AZULLUMI. plagiarism of any form and type, stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is NOT permitted.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Morning Brews & Scarlet Hues

CEOs!WandaNat x Coffee shop owner!fem!reader

Word count: 2.1K

Summary: The two hottest and most successful CEOs come into your coffee shop to flirt with you. You didn't expect them to flirt with you and you certainly weren't expecting them to be married and asking you out

Warnings: Slow burn to established relationship, mild panic attack, light angst, polyamory dynamics

Authors notes: This was a request that you can find here!

The smell of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air as you flipped the sign on the door, officially opening for the morning rush. The warm glow of the sunrise streamed through the large windows, painting golden streaks across the polished wooden countertops. The shop was quiet, peaceful—the kind of morning that made waking up at the crack of dawn worth it.

You moved through the familiar motions: turning on the espresso machine, setting out fresh pastries, and humming softly to the indie playlist playing over the speakers. The bell above the door chimed, signaling your first customer of the day.

And what a first customer she was.

Wanda Maximoff stepped inside, the scent of her expensive perfume—warm vanilla and hints of spice—blending with the coffee-rich air. She was breathtaking. Dressed in a deep scarlet blouse tucked into a perfectly tailored black pencil skirt, her heels clicked against the hardwood floor with every confident step. Waves of auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her sharp green eyes found you instantly, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.

“Good morning, darling,” she greeted, her voice smooth like honey. She leaned casually against the counter, her gaze lingering just long enough to make your heart pick up speed. “You’re always up so early. I don’t know how you do it.”

You grinned, leaning in just slightly. “The secret is lots of coffee. Speaking of which, your usual?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know… I was thinking of trying something different today.” Wanda tapped a manicured finger against her lips, then looked at you through her lashes. “What would you recommend?”

You bit your lip, playing along. “That depends. Are you in the mood for something sweet? Bold? Maybe something that lingers, like a slow burn?”

Her smile deepened. “You know me so well already.”

You turned to start making her drink, feeling the weight of her gaze following your every movement. As you steamed the milk, Wanda’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the machine.

“You always look so lovely in the mornings,” she mused. “Something about the sunrise on your skin… it’s unfair, really.”

Your hands faltered for just a second before you regained your composure, glancing over your shoulder. “Flattery so early in the day, Miss Maximoff? You must really want this coffee to be perfect.”

Wanda chuckled, a low, sultry sound. “I already know it will be. I just like watching you get all flustered.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, finishing up her drink and sliding it across the counter. “One hazelnut oat milk latte, with an extra shot of charm, just for you.”

She took the cup, her fingers grazing yours briefly—just enough to send a small spark up your arm. “Perfect,” she murmured, taking a sip. Then, with a glance at the clock, she sighed. “Duty calls. But I do hope you’ll miss me while I’m gone.”

You leaned on the counter, resting your chin on your hand. “If you come back tomorrow, I might just admit that I do.”

Wanda smirked, backing toward the door. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might hold you to that.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you standing there with a stupid smile and a rapidly beating heart.

What a way to start the morning.

⟡ ˚ ༘☕️🤎🧸 ⋆｡°

The morning rush came and went in a blur of familiar faces and steady hands crafting lattes, cappuccinos, and cold brews. You chatted with old college friends who stopped by for their usual pick-me-ups, exchanged pleasantries with the office workers from nearby businesses, and watched with a fond smile as the group of older ladies settled into their usual corner, their laughter filling the shop like the soft chime of wind bells.

By the time lunch rolled around, the café had settled into a comfortable rhythm—enough customers to keep things moving but slow enough that you could catch your breath.

And then she walked in.

Natasha Romanoff.

If Wanda was a striking flame in scarlet, Natasha was pure, effortless power wrapped in sharp sophistication. She strode through the door with the confidence of someone who owned the entire block, her tailored black suit hugging her lean frame, a deep crimson silk blouse adding just the right amount of color. The sleeves of her blazer were pushed up slightly, revealing the expensive watch on her wrist, and her auburn hair was styled to perfection—sleek, neat, and tucked behind her ears just enough to showcase the small, understated earrings she wore.

Her green eyes scanned the café with sharp precision before they landed on you. And then, just like that, the cool, detached aura softened—just a little.

"Hey, sweetheart," she greeted smoothly, approaching the counter with measured steps. Her voice was low, smooth like aged whiskey, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Busy day?"

You smiled, reaching for a cup as you wiped your hands on your apron. "Nothing I can’t handle. But seeing you walk in? Definitely brightens things up."

Natasha huffed a quiet chuckle, her lips curling in amusement. "Careful, malyshka. You keep talking to me like that, and I might start showing up more often."

You tilted your head, smirking. "That supposed to be a threat or a promise?"

She raised a brow, clearly enjoying the banter. "Depends. What are you going to do to convince me?"

Leaning forward slightly, you tapped the marker against the cup in your hand. "Well, I could make your coffee extra special. Or I could just keep giving you a reason to come back."

Natasha exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. "Bold today, aren’t you?"

You shrugged, already scribbling on the cup before starting her drink. "Must be something in the air."

As the espresso machine hummed to life, Natasha leaned on the counter, watching you work. "You always this charming, or am I just lucky?"

You shot her a playful look over your shoulder. "Oh, you’re definitely lucky."

She chuckled again, a sound you were quickly becoming addicted to. When her drink was ready, you slid it across the counter, her fingers grazing yours for a brief moment—intentional, you were sure. But Natasha's brows lifted slightly as she caught sight of the small, handwritten note on the cup.

For my favorite midday distraction.

Her lips parted in surprise before curling into a slow, knowing smirk. She traced the edge of the cup with her thumb, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "You really are pushing the envelope today."

You shrugged, biting your lip. "Just wanted to make sure you had something sweet with your coffee."

Natasha studied you for a moment, as if trying to decide just how much further to push back. Then she lifted the cup in a small toast. "Careful, sweetheart. I just might get addicted to this place."

And with that, she turned, walking out the door with the same effortless confidence she came in with.

You let out a breath, watching her go.

First Wanda, now Natasha.

If you weren’t careful, you were going to end up falling hard for both of them.

⟡ ˚ ༘☕️🤎🧸 ⋆｡°

The days turned into weeks, and your routine became something of a delicious torment.

Each morning, Wanda would arrive—always impeccably dressed, always so effortlessly charming. Her sharp green eyes would light up when she saw you, her soft flirtations making your heart race as she leaned in just a little too close when taking her coffee.

Then, in the afternoons, Natasha would show up—calm, confident, and devastatingly alluring. She met your teasing with equal energy, pushing back just enough to keep you on your toes. Her smirks, her low chuckles, the way she traced the rim of her cup when reading your little notes—it was intoxicating.

And the worst part? You were falling for both of them. Hard.

You didn’t know what to do about it. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every little flirtation made it harder to ignore. You told yourself you had to be imagining things. No way two insanely attractive, successful women were both interested in their local barista. Right?

Then came Saturday morning.

You had just finished setting up the pastry case when the familiar chime of the bell rang. You turned, already preparing your usual bright greeting—until you saw them.

Together.

Wanda and Natasha walked in side by side, both dressed far more casually than you had ever seen them. Wanda wore a burgundy sweater tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, her hair loosely curled, looking every bit as stunning as she did in her sharp work attire. Natasha, on the other hand, had opted for a black leather jacket over a fitted white t-shirt, her jeans ripped just slightly at the knees, her hands tucked in her pockets as she scanned the café like she owned the place.

Your heart nearly stopped.

They knew each other.

They were here together.

And as they approached the counter, exchanging a small, knowing glance with each other before turning their attention to you, a slow realization began to sink in.

Oh. Oh no.

You had been flirting with them both.

And they knew.

Wanda and Natasha shared a smirk, something unspoken passing between them before they turned their attention back to you.

“Good morning, darling,” Wanda purred, leaning on the counter like she always did, her emerald eyes twinkling with amusement. “You look even more adorable when you're surprised.”

“Speechless, huh?” Natasha added, her voice smooth and teasing as she propped her elbow on the counter, chin resting on her hand. “Didn’t expect to see us together?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, your brain scrambling to catch up. The room felt like it was tilting. They weren’t just acquaintances. They weren’t just friends.

They were together.

As in together together.

You gripped the edge of the counter, trying to ground yourself. “I—uh—”

Wanda hummed, her smirk deepening. “You know, I had a feeling this might happen.”

Natasha nodded, taking a sip of her coffee as if this was the most casual thing in the world. “Mmm. Same. It was cute watching you flirt with both of us like you weren’t going to get caught eventually.”

You choked on air. “I—wait—you knew?”

Wanda chuckled, reaching out to trace a lazy circle on the counter with her fingertip. “Of course we knew, sweetheart.”

“We’re married,” Natasha added, lifting her left hand slightly, letting the gold band on her ring finger catch the light. “Did you really think we wouldn’t talk about the cute little barista who’s been shamelessly flirting with both of us?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Married.

They were married.

And they had both been flirting back.

You felt like your heart might actually give out. “I—I didn’t—”

Wanda reached across the counter, gently brushing the back of her fingers against yours, her touch sending a jolt up your arm. “Relax, sweetheart,” she cooed, her voice as smooth as silk. “We’re not mad.”

Natasha leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “In fact… we kind of like it.”

Your breath hitched.

Oh hell.

Your grip on the counter tightened as their words sank in, but everything felt off-kilter—like you were suddenly standing on shaky ground. Your usual confidence, the flirtatious ease you had with them, was gone. You weren’t sure if you wanted to scream, laugh, or collapse.

They had known. They had planned this. And now they were here, together, standing in front of you, looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Your breath came quicker, shallower, and your fingers trembled slightly against the countertop.

Wanda was the first to notice.

Her teasing smirk melted away in an instant, replaced by something softer, something gentle. She reached across the counter, not to tease this time, but to comfort, her fingers brushing against yours again, but with intention.

“Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice warm and steady. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Natasha’s expression softened too, the playfulness fading into something more sincere. “We came to tease you a little, sure, but we also came to ask you something.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on Wanda’s steady touch, on Natasha’s calm presence. “A-Ask me something?”

Wanda nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yes. We wanted to ask if you’d like to go on a date.”

Your breath hitched.

A date.

With them.

You stared at them, at Wanda’s soft but hopeful smile, at Natasha’s quiet confidence, and for the first time since they walked in, the world stopped spinning.

“You… both want to take me on a date?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and reassuring. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

Wanda tilted her head. “What do you think?”

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding. You weren’t sure what this was, what it could be, but the thought of saying no felt impossible.

So, with a nervous but growing smile, you nodded.

“I think… I’d really like that.”

[lambilegs]

extremely vague and open ended request:

im in desperate need of dry humping and thigh riding with sevika… do with that what you will :)

(bonus points if it’s soft smut with a lot of praise hehe) soft sevika lives in my head rent freeeeee

soft and sleepy dry humping with sevi

♡ note to anon: HIII bae so I was sooo eepy when I got this request, and I really wanted to write some soft, sleepy sex with sevi, so I just had to do this request hehe. and thank you so so much for being so sweet about the req stuff, you're a sweetheart <3 and same omg soft!sevi has my heart ♡ contains: dry humping, sevi and reader being soft and in love, clothed sex, reader's body is referred to w the following terms: "clit," reader is called "pretty" ♡ divider by: @/kodaswrld

you whine as sevika holds you close against her in the dark of your guys' shared room, your flimsy pajama shorts drenched through as you rut desperately against her thigh. her strong arms wrap around your waist, the cool fingers of her bionic hand slithering under your shirt to scratch lightly at your skin. you shiver from the cool, smooth texture of it, the slight prick of the ends making you jerk harder in surprise.

even in the dark, you can see sevika's teeth flash at you, her sweet little gap peaking out in the row of white. god, she has such nice teeth. that thought sends you surging forward, capturing her lips in yours as you two languidly make out, the bump of her scar so uniquely her that the briefest skim of it as you shivering.

the trembles of your body cause her to tug you in closer, her hoodie plunging you into a comforting heat. a part of you melts at how even now, in the throes of pleasure, both of you heavy-eyed and hazy from sleepiness, she still manages to take care of you. she's like that, really. always showing her love in quiet, seamless ways that flow into one another like an everlasting chain of tenderness. she sees your skin covered in goosebumps, and she silently retrieves a blanket. you mention being thirsty during a walk, and she's hurrying to the nearest gas station. you mention a snack you like, and the next day, it's stocked up in your kitchen's pantry. it's the kind of affection that doesn't demand reward or to be seen. it simply exists out of nothing but care and attentive consideration.

the thoughts of how lovely your girlfriend is has you cupping her face, your tongues massaging one another's as her hand slides down to your ass, nails digging into the plush cheek of it as she grinds you forward and back along the firm, thick muscle of her thigh. the press of it against your clothed clit gives you a muffled sort of pleasure that sends your entire body squirming against hers, a soft whine flowing from your lips into hers.

"goddamn it, you're so cute," she groans against your lips, almost as though the sentiment is a personal attack on her. "you do this on purpose to get me staying up and taking care of you?"

you laugh softly, the sound shattering into a long moan when she lifts her thigh up, nudging it harder against you. "I--I-- it's not my fault you have the sleep schedule of an old man."

"hey, well," she chuckles, scattering kisses down the slope of your neck, sucking softly on the spot that dips to your shoulder, "I need to wake early to work. and I need to work so I can put my pretty baby in skimpy little shorts like this."

you shakily giggle, biting your lip so hard it aches when her hands grope your ass tightly and begin helping you ride her faster, harder. your arms loop around her strong neck, fingers toying with the ends of her silky black hair. from the tiredness wrapping around every inch of you, seeping into your skin, weighing on your eyes, and the way sevika is helping you so diligently to take your pleasure, you feel utterly softened and completely malleable.

"I love you," you whine, pressing quick, skittering kisses along her cheek.

her grip on your ass loosens, and your stomach flips at the way her grey eyes burn brightly in the dim lighting, a bit wide and imploring when searching your face. it's not your guys' first time saying it, but you know it's still a level of vulnerability she's spent years avoiding like the plague for convenience's sake. and with every stitch that gets added to the string of your guys' bond together, you can feel the veil she's held before herself stretching more and more, ready to snap completely.

she clears her throat, then gruffly murmurs, "I love you too. you know I do."

"I mean, yeah -- after all, who'd stay up until 1:00AM just to make me come when she has to be up at 6:00AM?"

she snorts, the corner of her lip quirking up. "only a damn fool."

[writeriguess]

Omg, your Bakugo fic Heart of Dynamite was so good!! Had me all up in my feels lol.

Here's an idea for you: Fem!reader and Katsuki are good friends and they have undeniable chemistry, but neither have acknowledged it or what it means. But reader get severely injured in a villain attack and ends up in the hospital fighting for her life. Katsuki finally admits to himself that he does in fact love her and desperately pleads for her to wake up so he can tell her.

Happy ending of course, and first kiss? ♡

author's note: Thank you <3

What It Means

The city was in chaos.

You barely had time to catch your breath before another wave of civilians came at you, their eyes glazed over, movements jerky yet disturbingly determined. Their screams echoed through the ruined streets, a mixture of agony and forced rage, as they lunged at you with makeshift weapons—bricks, pipes, even their own bare hands.

It was all because of him.

“You heroes are so predictable,” the villain sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. He stood on a crumbling rooftop, the tattered ends of his coat fluttering in the wind. “All this power, yet you hesitate. You can’t even fight back properly, can you?”

Your grip on your weapon tightened. He wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. The civilians—these people—were innocent. You couldn’t just cut through them like any other enemy. The hesitation, the careful dodging, the constant effort to subdue instead of hurt… It slowed you down. It slowed everyone down.

And the bastard knew it.

“I could end this right now,” he continued, stretching his arms behind his head lazily. “One little command, and they all turn on each other instead. Imagine that… You wouldn’t even have to get your hands dirty. They’d do all the work for me.”

A furious blast of fire shot past your shoulder, barely missing your head. Katsuki landed beside you, his palms still smoking, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. “Why don’t you come down here and say that, freak?”

The villain laughed, a grating sound that made your skin crawl. “Oh, Bakugou, Bakugou, Bakugou… Always so brash. So explosive. But even you know you can’t just blow them up. That’d make you no better than me.”

Katsuki’s growl was low and dangerous, his body tense like he was barely holding himself back. You knew he was struggling, just like you. Every hero in the field was. The battle was turning into a nightmare.

More civilians attacked. You moved on instinct, twisting around a woman swinging wildly at you with a crowbar, disarming her with a precise strike to the wrist. She crumpled, unconscious but unharmed. A man charged next, screaming incoherently, his pupils blown wide with unnatural bloodlust. You dodged, swept his legs out from under him, and knocked him out with a quick chop to the back of the neck.

But the numbers didn’t stop. For every one you took down, three more surged forward.

Katsuki blasted them back with controlled explosions, never enough to burn, just to incapacitate. But even he was breathing harder, his usual reckless abandon curbed by the damn situation.

“We’re getting nowhere like this,” you muttered, shifting into a defensive stance as more enthralled civilians surrounded you.

“No shit,” he snapped, glancing at the rooftop. The villain was still there, watching, smirking.

Then he moved.

A blur.

Before you could react, a force slammed into you like a freight train.

Your body was airborne.

The world spun.

The impact knocked the air from your lungs as you crashed through a shattered storefront, glass slicing through your hero suit and biting into your skin. You barely had time to register the pain before the villain was on you, his hand around your throat, yanking you up.

“Tch,” he scoffed, tilting his head. “You’re pretty, you know that? A shame you’re on the wrong side.”

You struggled, gripping his wrist, but his strength was monstrous. His fingers tightened, and the edges of your vision blurred.

A roar—familiar, raw, furious—pierced through the haze.

Then boom.

Katsuki’s explosion sent the villain flying, his grip loosening just enough for you to suck in a ragged breath. You collapsed to your knees, coughing, the taste of iron heavy on your tongue.

“Oi,” Katsuki was at your side in an instant, gripping your arm. His hands were trembling. “You okay?”

You nodded, barely. Lying. You felt like you’d been hit by a truck.

The villain was already back on his feet, dusting himself off like he hadn’t just been blown halfway across the street.

“You two have chemistry,” he mused, cracking his neck. “Unspoken tension. How tragic it’ll be when one of you dies.”

Katsuki moved before he finished the sentence, his explosions roaring through the air. The villain dodged at impossible speeds, weaving through Katsuki’s attacks like water slipping through fingers.

And then—

Pain.

Blinding.

A scream tore from your throat before you even understood what had happened.

Blood.

It pooled at your feet, warm and sticky, seeping through your fingers as you clutched your side. A deep, jagged wound carved into you, muscle torn apart. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed.

Your vision blurred, darkened.

Distantly, you heard Katsuki roar your name.

More explosions. More screams. A battle raging on without you.

You were lifted. Strong arms cradled you against a warm, trembling chest. The familiar scent of smoke and sweat and him wrapped around you.

Katsuki was running. Running like the world was ending. His heart thundered beneath your ear, fast, erratic.

“Stay awake,” he barked, his voice raw, desperate.

You wanted to. You tried. But the pain was so much. The darkness pulled harder.

“Damn it, don’t you fucking—” His voice cracked.

You swore you felt something warm drip onto your cheek.

The last thing you heard before everything faded was him whispering your name, over and over, like he could hold you together just by saying it.

Then—nothing.

The world was cold.

Distant.

Muted beeps echoed through the silence, rhythmic and steady. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and clinical. Soft murmurs, the shuffle of footsteps, the quiet hum of machines keeping you tethered to life.

You didn’t feel the pain anymore. Not really. Just a dull, distant ache that existed somewhere far away from where you were.

But outside of the void swallowing you whole, the world was still moving.

Katsuki hadn’t moved from his chair in hours.

His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes—red and rimmed with exhaustion—stared straight ahead at the unmoving form on the hospital bed. At you.

Wires and tubes. Machines and bandages. Bruises and pale, lifeless skin.

He felt sick.

It had been two days. Two fucking days since you collapsed in his arms, since he carried you out of that nightmare, screaming at the paramedics to do something. Two days since he watched them work frantically to stop the bleeding, saw your heartbeat nearly flatline before they finally stabilized you.

Two days since you slipped into a coma.

The doctors said you were strong. That you had a chance. That you just needed time.

But every second that passed without you waking up felt like another piece of him was being ripped away.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His fingers trembled, but he clenched them into fists before the shaking could take hold.

He wasn’t going to lose you.

The door creaked open. He didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge the quiet footsteps that entered the room.

“Bakugou.”

It was Kirishima. His voice was soft, careful, like he was afraid of setting Katsuki off.

Katsuki didn’t answer.

“You should eat something,” Kirishima tried again. “Rest. You’ve been here since—”

“I’m not leaving.”

A pause. A sigh. “She wouldn’t want you to—”

“I said I’m not leaving.”

Kirishima didn’t argue. He just pulled up a chair and sat beside him, resting his arms on his knees as they both stared at you.

“…She’ll wake up,” Kirishima said, voice steady. “She’s too stubborn not to.”

Katsuki swallowed hard, his jaw tight. He wanted to believe that. He needed to believe that.

But the longer you lay there, motionless and silent, the more the fear sank in.

What if you never opened your eyes again?

What if the last thing he ever said to you was yelled in the heat of battle, instead of—

His hands clenched. His throat burned.

He hadn’t said it. Not once. Not even when he wanted to.

And now, you might never hear it.

The days blurred together.

Katsuki refused to leave. The nurses tried, Kirishima tried, hell, even Deku had the audacity to show up and tell him to take care of himself. But none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was you.

He stayed by your side, watching, waiting, silently willing you to wake up.

You didn’t.

Your body healed. The doctors were hopeful. But you still weren’t there.

And it was killing him.

He wanted to hear your voice. To see you roll your eyes at one of his grumbled complaints, to feel you nudge his arm when he was being too much of an ass. He wanted you to fight back, to argue with him, to be you again.

But most of all—

He wanted to tell you.

It had been clawing at his chest for days now, twisting and burning, suffocating him with the weight of everything he’d been too much of a coward to say.

So he finally did.

It was late, the hospital quiet except for the beeping of the machines and the distant murmur of night-shift nurses in the hall. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the floor. Katsuki sat hunched over in the chair beside your bed, his forehead resting against his clasped hands.

He exhaled shakily. “This is bullshit.”

His voice was rough, hoarse from lack of sleep, but he kept going.

“You’re just laying there, like some weak-ass extra, when I know you’re stronger than this. It’s pissing me off.”

Silence.

Katsuki sucked in a breath, his throat tightening. His fingers curled around the edge of the bed.

“I—” He hesitated, gritting his teeth before forcing the words out. “I can’t do this shit without you.”

The admission made his chest ache. But it was true.

He’d spent so long ignoring it, shoving it down, pretending the pull between you was nothing more than friendly chemistry, that his need to be around you was just habit.

But the truth had been staring him in the face this entire time. He’d just been too damn scared to see it.

“I should’ve said it sooner.�� His voice was raw now, unsteady. “I was a fucking coward. Thought if I ignored it, if I just kept things the way they were, it’d be fine. But it wasn’t fine. And now you’re here, and I—”

His hand found yours, warm fingers curling around your still ones.

His grip tightened.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely more than breath.

He bowed his head, pressing his forehead against your hand. “So wake up. Please.”

Another pause. Another silence. Another beat of the machines.

And then—

A twitch.

His breath caught. His head snapped up, eyes locked on your fingers as they twitched again, just barely, but enough.

His heart slammed against his ribs. “Oi,” he rasped, standing so fast the chair scraped against the floor. “Oi.”

A flutter of eyelashes. A sharp inhale.

Then, finally—

Your eyes opened.

Dazed. Confused. Blinking sluggishly against the dim light.

But open.

Something inside Katsuki broke. Relief hit him like a punch to the gut, so intense it made his knees weak.

“About damn time,” he muttered, voice rough with something he refused to call tears.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, and the second recognition flickered in your tired eyes, he was done for.

You opened your mouth, but your voice came out cracked, barely there. “Did I—”

“You almost died.” His grip on your hand tightened. “Don’t ever do that again.”

A weak smirk tugged at your lips. “Wasn’t exactly my plan, Bakugou.”

His heart clenched. He hadn’t heard your voice in so long.

He should’ve said something witty back, should’ve snapped at you like normal, but his body moved before his brain could catch up.

His hand cupped your face, and he was so close, warmth radiating from him, breaths mingling. His thumb brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Then, carefully—almost hesitant—he kissed you.

Soft. Gentle. Uncharacteristically tender.

You exhaled against his lips, fingers weakly reaching up to tangle in his shirt.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breaths still uneven.

“You better not make me say that shit again,” he muttered.

You smiled—tired, but real. “Say what?”

His lips twitched. “You know what.”

You closed your eyes briefly, still exhausted, but when you spoke again, your voice was warm.

“I love you too, dumbass.”

Katsuki let out a sharp exhale, relief and something softer settling deep in his chest.

“Damn right you do.”

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

FEAR OF WATER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after an abusive past, y/n struggles with toxic communication in her relationship with rafe. when fear pushes her away, love teaches her to stay.

based on this ask !! this was a really angsty and emotional one to write and i LOVED it anon, so thank you, and apologies it’s taken a while <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: angst w/ a comforting ending, slightly toxic!reader (unintentional), emotional abuse (by readers ex), trauma responses, arguing, crying, cursing, soft!rafe, fear of letting people in, flinching, detailed descriptions of emotional abuse & manipulation. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

THIRD PERSON +

The slam of the front door rattled the picture frames on the walls, the weight of Y/N’s footsteps heavy against the wooden floor as she stormed into the kitchen. Her hands were shaking—she hated that they always did when she was this upset. It made her feel weak, even when the anger inside her burned so hot she thought it might consume her entirely.

Rafe followed behind, slower, guarded. He had that look in his eyes again—the one that made her stomach twist with guilt before she could even process why. The look of someone who was tired, not from the fight itself, but from the exhaustion of never knowing how the next argument would go.

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this,” she spat, her voice sharper than she intended. “You know exactly what you did.”

Rafe exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Y/N, I don’t—what did I do? Just tell me.”

His calmness made her angrier. It made her feel unheard, like he wasn’t taking this seriously. Her brain was wired to expect resistance, to expect gaslighting, to prepare for the fight that had always followed in her past relationship.

“You said you’d call, and you didn’t. You do this all the time, Rafe. You make promises, and then you break them, like it doesn’t even matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he said carefully. “I got caught up at work. I should’ve called, I’m sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. There’s always an excuse.”

He frowned, stepping closer, but she took a step back, arms folding over her chest like she was shielding herself from an attack that wasn’t coming. He sighed, something pained flickering across his face.

“Do you hear how you’re talking to me right now?” His voice was quiet, not angry, not defensive—just… tired.

And that was when it hit her.

She wasn’t even really arguing with him. Not Rafe. Not the boy who held her when she had nightmares, who traced circles on her back when she was overwhelmed, who had never once raised his voice at her even when she threw words like daggers. She was arguing with the ghost of the man who had hurt her before, who had made her feel like she had to fight to be heard, to be understood.

Her chest tightened, shame creeping up her spine.

She was training him.

She was teaching Rafe—patient, loving Rafe—that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be good enough for her. That he’d always be walking on eggshells, waiting for the next time he slipped up and she lashed out.

She was turning him into someone who feared her.

The realisation knocked the air from her lungs, and before she could stop herself, her feet were already moving, carrying her toward the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Rafe called, but she couldn’t—she couldn’t.

If she let him say something kind, if she let him look at her with that soft, exhausted sadness in his eyes, she’d break down right in front of him.

She barely registered getting into her car, barely noticed the shaking of her hands as she fumbled with the keys.

And then she was driving.

Her vision blurred with tears, and she blinked them away furiously, but they just kept coming, spilling down her cheeks in hot, silent streams.

She had pushed him too far this time.

She knew it—knew, in the deepest part of her heart, that there was only so much someone could take.

She wanted to be better. She needed to be better. But how could she, when she didn’t even know what that looked like? When she had spent so long being told that love was a battlefield, that the only way to be heard was to yell louder, fight harder?

She should’ve let Rafe in. She should’ve told him why she reacted the way she did, why she felt like she had to accuse before she could be accused, hurt before she could be hurt.

But it was too late.

She had to leave before he could do it to her.

Because that’s what she had been taught—that love never stayed, that sooner or later, they always left.

And she’d rather be the one walking away than the one being abandoned.

The thought shattered something inside her, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself sob.

—

Rafe had never felt this kind of exhaustion before.

It wasn’t the kind that came after a long day working in the heat or the kind that settled in his bones after a sleepless night. No, this was different. It was the weight of not knowing—the crushing uncertainty of whether or not he had just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He hadn’t stopped calling since the moment Y/N ran out of his house. The first few went straight to voicemail. Then, after what felt like an eternity, a text finally came through.

I’m safe. I just need some space.

The relief had been instant—so strong that his knees nearly buckled. But it didn’t last long. Because the truth was, she might be safe, but she wasn’t okay.

And the worst part? He didn’t know how to fix it.

Rafe sat on the edge of his bed, phone still clutched in his hands, staring at the screen like it might give him the answers he needed. But there were no answers—just the hollow ache in his chest and the endless loop of their fight playing over and over again in his head.

It wasn’t the argument itself that unsettled him. Couples fought—it was normal. He and Y/N had had disagreements before, sure, but never like this.

The way she’d looked at him tonight wasn’t how someone looked at the person they loved. It was how someone looked at a threat.

And that… that was what haunted him the most.

Rafe never wanted to be something Y/N had to defend herself against.

His thoughts raced, trying to piece together why she had reacted the way she did. It wasn’t like he’d done anything that bad—he’d forgotten to call. That was all. It wasn’t like he lied, or cheated, or intentionally hurt her. And yet, the second he tried to explain, she had shut down, turned on him, twisted it into something it wasn’t.

It was almost like… she expected him to hurt her.

The realisation hit him hard.

Y/N had mentioned her ex before, offhandedly. Just a couple of times. She never said much, just that he was shitty, that he messed her up.

But this… this was more than just the baggage of a bad breakup. This was damage.

And if there was anyone who might have more answers, it was Sarah.

—

Sarah wasn’t surprised when she opened the door to find Rafe standing there, disheveled and tense, like he’d been pacing for hours.

She sighed, leaning against the frame. “I figured you’d show up eventually.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Did she tell you?”

Sarah nodded her head. “She sent me a short text. It was reallt vague, but I gathered it wasn’t good.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I just… I don’t understand. She got so defensive. It was like—like she thought I was trying to hurt her. And when I tried to calm things down, it just made her angrier.”

Sarah’s expression softened. “Rafe…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You know her last relationship wasn’t good, right?”

“She said it was shitty, but—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realise how bad.”

Sarah sighed, crossing her arms. “Her ex was emotionally abusive. Manipulative. The kind of guy who’d twist things until she thought she was the problem. He made her question everything. Gaslit her, isolated her. It took her forever to get out.”

Rafe’s stomach twisted.

Y/N had never told him any of that.

Sarah continued, her voice quieter now. “She’s not like this because she wants to be, Rafe. It’s a trauma response. She learned to survive by being defensive. By fighting back first before she could be blamed. And now, even when she’s with someone who actually loves her, it’s hard to unlearn that.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his jaw tight. He could see it now, see how it all fit together.

How the moment something felt like it could go wrong, Y/N would push him away. How she always needed control over the situation, how she sometimes twisted his words—not because she wanted to hurt him, but because that’s how she had survived before.

She wasn’t fighting him. She was fighting the past.

Sarah sighed. “I don’t want to say more—it’s not my story to tell. But if you really care about her, you’ll be patient. She needs to learn how to trust that you’re not him.”

Rafe nodded, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I do care,” he muttered. “More than I probably should.”

Sarah gave him a small, sad smile. “Then don’t give up on her yet.”

—

Rafe sat in his truck, staring at the dark road ahead, his mind still reeling from everything Sarah had told him.

It all made sense now.

It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t love him. It wasn’t even that she wanted to hurt him. It was that she didn’t know any different.

And that broke his fucking heart.

He thought about the way she looked at him when they weren’t fighting—when she was curled up in his arms, or when she laughed at something stupid he said, or when she kissed him like he was the only thing keeping her steady.

That was her.

Not the girl who lashed out. Not the girl who pushed and twisted things in an attempt to stay in control.

He couldn’t let this be the thing that ended them.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that Y/N deserved to be loved the right way. She deserved someone who wouldn’t run just because loving her required patience.

She deserved someone who would stay.

And if that meant showing up even when she didn’t know how to ask him to—if that meant proving to her that he wasn’t like the man who hurt her—then he’d do it.

He threw the truck into drive, determination settling in his chest.

He needed to see her.

He needed to talk to her.

So Rafe headed towards his place to grab his phone before heading to Y/N’s to fix things.

He had barely stepped into his house when the knock echoed through the quiet space.

He frowned, glancing toward the door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, and after the night he’d had, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for surprises. But when he pulled it open, his breath caught in his throat.

Y/N stood there, her frame swallowed by an oversized hoodie, sleeves pulled over her hands as she twisted the fabric between trembling fingers. Her eyes—blood-shot and swollen from crying—met his with a hesitance that made his chest ache.

She looked afraid.

Not of him.

But of what came next.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was hoarse, like she’d been crying for hours. Maybe she had. The weight of everything unsaid hung between them, thick and suffocating. Rafe wanted to say something, anything, but she beat him to it.

And when she spoke, the words tumbled out in a frantic, shaky rush.

“I—God, I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, sniffing as she swiped a sleeve under her nose. “I just—I need to say this before I lose my nerve.”

Rafe nodded slowly, heart pounding. “Okay.”

She took a deep breath, and then, like a dam breaking, everything spilled out.

“My ex—he wasn’t just shitty, Rafe. He was toxic. He—he manipulated me, controlled me, made me think I was losing my mind. Every time we fought, he’d twist my words until I couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. And when I got upset, that became the problem. I was the problem. He convinced me I was crazy. That I was too much, too sensitive, too difficult to love.”

Her voice cracked, and Rafe’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He had felt it before—the anger, the quiet rage that settled deep in his bones whenever he thought about the way Y/N’s past had left its mark on her. But now, hearing her say it aloud, it burned white-hot in his veins.

“I spent so much time walking on eggshells, just waiting for the next thing he’d use against me,” she continued, voice thick with emotion. “So eventually, I just… I learned to fight back first. Before he could get the upper hand. Before he could make me feel small again.”

Rafe swallowed hard, feeling something inside him break at the way she spoke—like she still carried the weight of it all, like she still believed she was the problem.

“Y/N,” he started, but she shook her head.

“I need to finish,” she whispered. “Please.”

He nodded, his throat tight.

She exhaled shakily. “I didn’t mean to treat you like him. I swear I didn’t. But I don’t know how else to be. Every time we fight, I feel like I have to defend myself before you can hurt me. But you never do. You’re nothing like him, Rafe. You’ve never made me feel small, never made me question myself. You’re the only person I’m actually terrified of losing, so tonight—” Her voice wavered. “Tonight, I left before you could.”

Rafe felt his heart shatter.

She had run because she thought he’d leave her. That he’d get tired of her, of the way she struggled to let go of the past.

She didn’t realise he never would.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she barely seemed to notice, too lost in her own confession.

“I don’t want to be like this,” she whispered, voice raw with desperation. “I don’t want to push you away. I don’t want to hurt you just because I don’t know what healthy love is supposed to look like.”

“Y/N…” Rafe’s voice broke, and suddenly, he was moving—closing the space between them, cupping her face in his hands with a gentleness that made her shudder.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, she just leaned into his touch, like she was memorising the feeling of him still being there.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Rafe. I know I’ve been difficult, I know I’ve been hard to love, but please—please don’t go anywhere.”

He felt his own tears spill over at that—at the sheer, heartbreaking fear in her voice.

She thought he was going to leave.

She truly believed that he’d wake up one day and decide she wasn’t worth it.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his grip tightening like he was afraid she might slip away again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Ever.”

Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, like she was trying to anchor herself to him.

“I promise,” he continued, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are not too much. You are not difficult to love. I don’t care how long it takes for you to believe that, I’m not going anywhere.”

A sob wracked through her body, but this time, it wasn’t just pain—it was relief.

And then, in the quietest voice, she whispered, “I’ll get help.”

Rafe pulled back slightly, searching her eyes.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I want to get better. I want to be better. For us.”

She let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and determination.

“Now I’m not afraid of the water,” she whispered. “I’ll dive right in. And I can be brave, so I’m gonna give it a try.” Her lip trembled. “Because I know you’ll be on the other side.”

Rafe’s heart clenched.

Because for the first time since she had come into his life, Y/N wasn’t running.

She was staying.

And so was he.

Rafe cradled her face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his own tears still slipping down his cheeks.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “I’ll always be right here.”

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she let herself fall into his embrace, arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

And as they stood there, wrapped up in each other, Rafe knew—this was what love was supposed to be.

Messy. Imperfect. But real.

And this time, neither of them were afraid of stepping into unknown waters.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

thank you so much for this request anon, i love me some angst !! pls keep requesting everyone, i am working my way through them and i have like four in my drafts rn to be edited so stay tuned !!

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[hotgeniusreid]

He love me, He give me all his money

Aaron Hotchner x F! BAU Reader

Mentions of: Sex, Oral (f receiving), fingering, downright sinful is the way to describe this fic, reader is a literal girl boss who makes her own money but Hotch would literally hand her his 401K with no hesitation.

Text divider by: @ianrkives

!!!NSFW/MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

“Aaron for the last time I told you, I make more than enough money to spoil myself, I don’t need to use your card.” You grumble, adjusting your phone using your shoulder to hold it against your ear, various shopping bags adorning your arms, you had decided to put your day off to good use, and retail therapy always had a special place in your heart.

“Honey the reason you make more than enough is because of me, I’m not going to tell you again, use my card, after all, I like spoiling you.” You can feel the smirk through the phone, with a sign you give up, “Fine but don’t get upset when I leave you broke.” You teased, “I can handle it, honey, want you to show me what you got with my money when you get home.” And with that, he hung up.

You shook your head, a small smirk on your lips, he wanted you to use his card so you were going to use it wisely.

Hours later and way too many shopping bags, you open the door to your shared apartment, you call out to Aaron, hearing him call back to you from the bedroom, you enter your shared room to see him lying on the bed, with gray sweatpants and no shirt. You smile softly, dropping your bags on the ground before climbing into your shared bed, crawling over to him, “Hi honey, how was your shopping, and how did you manage to carry that many bags?” He questions, arching his eyebrow.

You laugh, “Never underestimate the power of a determined woman. Shopping was good though, used your card to buy some stuff.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Yeah? You gonna show me what you got with my card?” He asks, trailing his hand up your side. You nod your head, parting from him and pushing yourself off the bed, you grab two of the bags you had brought home with you, before padding to the bathroom in your room, bags in tow, “I’ll show you when I get out of the bathroom.” You wink at him.

Closing the door behind you, you begin to undress. Grabbing the bigger bag of two you pull out the item you purchased, lingerie. A navy blue three-piece set that you knew would make him feral, you slip into it, feeling how nice and soft that lace felt against your skin, you were never one for lingerie as you would much rather just be stripped bare and cut to the chase, but the way it felt against your skin, and the way you looked in it gave you a major confidence boost.

And the cherry on top? Picking up the smaller bag, you grab the black box inside and open it up, a gold Cuban Link anklet with the letter ‘A’ hanging from it, you saw it and you had to have it, sure those were the only two things you used his card for, but you were sure he would be pleasantly surprised.

You fixed your hair up in the mirror and sprayed your favorite perfume, you gave yourself one final look before turning around and opening the door, “Don’t get mad at me, but I only bought two things with your card, and I think it was more than enough, don’t you agree?” You murmured, eager to see his reaction. “Honey I told you that you could spend as much as you wan-” he looks up from his phone to look at you, his sentence cut short as he takes in the sight of you in the lingerie, you walk closer to the bed, and before you get the chance to ask him if he likes it, he’s swinging his legs over and sitting up, pulling you flush against him, a growl rumbling in his throat.

“Christ honey, give me a heart attack why don’t you? You look so fucking gorgeous.” He rasps, his hands wrapping around you to grab your ass, “I thought you’d like it, I saw it and I couldn’t help myself.” You bite your lip to try and conceal your smile, knowing you have him right where you wanted him, he lets out a dark chuckle, looking up at you, his eyes are dark and lustful. “Mm looks like you were right, I do like it, very much pretty girl.” He brings his hand to the back of your head, pulling you down and pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is hungry, the desperation is evident, the intensity of it making you rub your thighs together, you moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you slot your tongue against his, fighting for dominance, and with the way his hand reaches up to cup your face has your knees buckling.

You pull away, lips swollen and breathing heavy, Aaron stands and grabs you by the waist, turning you and laying you down on the edge of the bed, he drops to his knees, pressing kisses on your thighs, “You still haven’t seen what else I got with your card.” You murmur, lifting so you can look at him, “What else did you get baby?” He asks, pressing more kisses up your thighs, you bend your leg, stopping his kisses by pushing him back with your foot.

That’s when Aaron sees it, the glint of gold that prompts him to look down at your ankle, seeing the pretty little anklet with the ‘A’ on it, and he lets out an animalistic growl at the sight, his cock twitching desperately in his sweatpants. He presses kisses to your ankle, trailing back up to your thighs, “So fucking pretty baby, gonna show you how much I like what you got yeah?” He rasps, pressing a kiss on your clothed cunt, and you shiver at the feeling.

He pulls your panties to the side, his hot breath on your cunt makes you gasp, the anticipation of what’s coming heightening the feeling, and it isn’t long before he’s licking a stripe up your cunt, and your back arches, a long moan falling from your mouth. Aaron groans, the taste of your slick coating on his tongue entices him to continue, he flattens his tongue against your clit, your hand coming down to tangle in his hair.

He looks up at you, seeing how disheveled you already look, your eyes low and pupils dilated, panting heavily and fighting to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head, you will yourself to look down at Aaron, and when your eyes meet his intense gaze, you let out a whimper. “A-Aaron feels s’good.” You buck your hips at the feeling of him mouthing at your clit, and then you gasp as you feel him slide in two fingers, instantly finding your sweet spot as he curls his fingers.

You feel it, the coil winding up and threatening to snap, the way he curls and thrusts his fingers, you can hear how wet you are from just his fingers, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed because he was making you feel good. He sucks on your clit and it’s your undoing, your cumming with a whine, head falling back, and your thighs closing around him as you spasm and ride out your high.

Aaron pulls out his fingers and you whine at the feeling of being empty, you lift with the little energy you have left and see Aaron ridding himself of his bottoms, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. You take this opportunity to rid yourself of your panties. He’s on you within seconds, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss, his cock rubbing against your cunt, your grinding against his cock, desperate for him to fill your cunt. He lets out a chuckle seeing your desperation, “What’s wrong baby? Need my cock?” He coos, and you're nodding your head, “Yes, please please need your cock.” You babble, still grinding against his cock, you gasp as his tip gets caught at your entrance, your looking up at Aaron, tears threatening to spill, and that’s all it takes for him to push his cock in.

Your gripping at his forearm, breath caught in your throat at the stretch, no matter how many times you had sex with him, taking his cock was difficult, your clawing at his arm as he splits you open on his cock, your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, still sensitive from your orgasm, you squeal when he is cock is pushing on your g-spot, the tears in your eyes start flowing from the pleasure, and it isn’t long before Aaron’s hips are flush against yours, your trembling under him, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Breathe baby, eyes on me.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, you let go of the breath that was caught in your throat, and looking him in the eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in, you both moan at the feeling, and he’s setting a pace as he thrusts in and out. You're a moaning mess, writhing under him from the pleasure, he grabs your leg, placing it on his shoulder, and he’s bending you, the new position making him hit deeper and you take it, moans getting louder and louder, you hear the ‘plap plap plap’ of skin hitting skin, and you feel the telltale signs of your orgasm once more.

Aaron knows your close, he can feel the way your clenching around his cock, trying to milk him, and it’s working, because he is impossibly close to cumming with the way your cunt is clenching around his cock, and the way your lips are parted in a perfect ‘O’, and your eyes closed shut from the pleasure he’s giving you. He brings his thumb down and messily starts rubbing on your clit, and that is your undoing.

Your clamping down on him and drawing out a long moan, spasming underneath him, and it isn’t long before Aaron cums with a loud groan, painting your insides white, your both coming down from your highs and panting heavily, Aaron leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, “You okay baby?” He murmurs, pressing kisses from your neck up to your cheek. You nod “M’okay.” You mumble.

Aaron pulls out of you and you whine at the empty feeling, it isn’t long before he comes back from your shared bathroom with a wet towel to clean you up, he helps you take off the rest of the lingerie and helps you slip on one of his shirts, your fighting to keep your eyes open from how tired you are, Aaron lays beside you and pulls you into his arms, it’s then that you hear him chuckle, “So honey, when do you plan on using my card again?” You roll your eyes, “You might as well give me your 401K at this point.” He lets out a low laugh, “Sweetheart it was already yours the moment I laid eyes on you.”

[soangelbaby]

Is it possible to write a imagine Clark Kent x bimbo girlfriend…?

ꨄ rini’s note ; ahh tysm for the request !!! i loved this a lil too muchh so hope u enjoyy my angel babe <33

clark had always been drawn to those who were more than they seemed. beneath the layers of the small-town boy who never really let his guard down, he was a sucker for someone who could keep him on his toes.

you were playful, teasing him in that way that made him flustered but also feel a flicker of danger. you knew exactly how to get under his skin—flirty, cheeky, and endlessly confident. it wasn’t just the way you dressed, though. sure, your sexy mini skirts and body-hugging tops left his eyes lingering a little too long, but it was the way you owned your every move. every conversation had an undertone of seduction, but it was balanced with that sweet, innocent aura that kept him entranced. he liked that you pushed him, liked that you didn’t ask for permission before turning the heat up.

clark walked beside you entering the doors of smallville high, eyes flickering ever so often to your corduroy mini skirt paired with a halter top that’s just a little too tight but accentuating your figure anyway, and heels that make your legs look endless. “you’re really give the campus a heart attack today, huh?” clark murmured in your ear, his arm tightening around your waist. you giggled, grinning mischievously while twirling your hair in your fingers, “what can i say?” you shrugged, “i just love turning heads, would you rather them not look?” clark rolls his eyes, fingers dipping into the fabric of your top, he leaned closer—just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, “you’re gonna get me in trouble. people can’t stop staring at you,” he glances around the quad, “and you’re out here loving it.” the possessiveness in his unmistakable, even as he tries to appear unaffected.

you just laugh, nudging his shoulder, “what’s the matter, clark? you jealous?” snickering, but there’s no doubt you enjoy seeing him like this. he glanced down at your lips, your teasing smile, and his mind buzzed with a mix of temptation and desire. “not jealous. just… don’t get too comfortable, you’re mine and i don’t share.” it was the kind of power you had over him, something that made him question his own control. but he liked it. he dropped the ball, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer. his lips crashed into yours, hard and hungry. there was no hesitation, no playing games. just pure, raw chemistry.

“i didn’t think you were the possessive type, smallville. guess i’ve got you wrapped around my finger?” you mumble, barely pulling away from his lips, fingers tracing the edge of his shirt. for a second, clark lost himself in it, his hands sliding to your hips, gripping you tighter, needing to feel every inch of you against him. he wasn’t used to being so out of control, but when you were around, everything else seemed to fade away. clark’s breath hitched as your soft lips brushed against his jaw, then down his neck. the mix of your sweet perfume and the way your body fit so perfectly against his was driving him crazy. “you know, no one else can handle you the way i can.” you smirked, a wicked glint in your eye. “i don’t need anyone else. just you, clark.”

[littelovelunette]

this one isn’t smut, but could you do vi and reader having an argument, and vi raises her arms in exasperation, and the reader flinches and has a panic attack because of past childhood trauma, and vi comforts reader and makes sure they’re safe

Promise Me

Contains implied PTSD, trauma, mentions of abuse, sensitive content

This one feels personal…

Vi had been letting go of herself, pit fighting and getting drunk, it made you sad.

You knew she was suffering deep inside and she was hurting but acting the way she did, hurt you as well. You just wanted her to put things in the past and move on with her life but she didn't seem like she was interested in doing that anytime soon.

You both weren't in an exclusive relationship, it was more like a random hookup where you both caught feelings somewhat and now live together. It was weird but you never found her sober enough to talk it through.

You were watching Vi stumble into the living room, clearly drunk as the bottle of alcohol fell out of her loose grip. The bandages she had on her arms and the chest bindings were all soaked with blood and sweat. She looked awful.

“You're drunk. Again.” you said, your tone clearly fed up and angry.

Vi only hiccuped a little and slurred a response back, “Looking so pretty while so angry.”

You rolled your eyes and walked over to her, sitting down at the couch, pulling her by the wrist so she would sit down beside you. “I don't understand. I'm trying to help you but you're not letting me. You're ruining yourself going down this path of painless self destruction.

While I wouldn't exactly say it's completely painless.” You pointed out the bruises and cuts she had from the fights.

You hated her being like this. She was just as good as an alcoholic by now.

“Stop nagging me,” Vi simply said, getting off the couch instead of letting you patch her up like she usually allowed while she was drunk.

You got up, now even angrier than before. “Vi,” you called, “I'm not nagging, I'm only saying you should take care of yourself. How do you even tell yourself you love me if you can't even bring yourself to love you?”

Vi groaned a little, “Blah, blah, blah, I'm too tired to go through your shit right now. Can't I just go to my room and take a fucking nap?”

“No, we need to talk about this.” You pressed despite knowing she was drunk. She was drunk pretty much all the time. What difference would it make if you questioned her about it now?

Maybe she would change, maybe she wouldn't. Instead of waiting longer for pretty much no results, it was better to just know now.

Vi huffed and crossed her arms, eyes bloodshot due to the alcohol, “What do you gotta say? Spit it out.”

“You need to stop all this fighting drinking, it's not a healthy coping mechanism,” you said, crossing your arms as well as you eyed the other woman.

“Healthy coping mechanism?! Look around! We're in the Undercity! Nothing’s healthy here if anything!” Vi yelled, her voice raising, making your heart pound against your chest almost painfully. You hated seeing her so drunk… and verbally hurtful.

“Do you wanna be like all the junkies we see out on the road?” You asked, trying to maintain a calm collected tone.

Just then Vi raised her hands in exasperation and you took a step back, flinching and hiding your face. Vi completely paused seeing you do that.

“Love,” she said, her voice an octave lower, she walked closer, hand hovering over your shoulder as if scared to break you, “Love, what's wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you pushed her away and walked into the shared bedroom, trying to collect yourself.

Her raising her hands like that brought back bad memories. Pain. Screaming. Begging. To just stop. It felt like something was stuck in your esophagus and you couldn't breathe properly.

Forcing yourself to swallow the growing lump in your throat, you stared at yourself in the mirror. A small, barely visible scar on your left eyelid, the bruises that littered your legs. It was like every other memory you tried to bury deep away, away from your everyday day and mannerisms, they were coming back to haunt you again.

You could almost hear the screams and the begging behind your eyes, somewhere in your head and you weren't sure if you were being sane right then.

Something was bothering you…

“Sweetheart,” Vi walked into the room and cupped your face making you look up at her, “Tell me what's going on.”

You let out a breath, a shuddering breath as the imagery of blood, darkness, tears flashed through your brain at once making you flinch and try to pull again but Vi didn't let you.

She wrapped you up in her strong arms, hands caressing the soft locks of your hair and even if she was sweaty, bloody and reeked of alcohol you couldn't help but find love within her hug. And acceptance.

You knew she was always there but it was harder to open up about something so sensitive if you've buried them deep long enough.

“I'd never hit you. Never.” Vi said, kissing your head and making you look at her again to ensure that you understood what she said.

“Pinky swear?” you managed to ask in a low voice.

It broke Vi’s heart that you needed that much reassurance despite her saying she wouldn't hurt you ever, making her wonder just how many levels of hell you had been through in the past.

“Pinky swear…”

[mylovesstuffs]

Objection, Your Honor ! – Lee Chan

Genre: Non-idol au, legal au, detective-prosecutor au, workplace romance and enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dino × fem!reader

Content: Office romance, crime-solving duo/trio, tension, banter, flawed characters, detective/prosecutor dynamic, explicit sexual content MDNI! strong language, intense arguments, suggestive comments, making out, lotssss of kissing, Dino is cocky, reader loses her patience 99% of the time

Word count: 8657 words

A/N: Had to add the word razor every chance I got, lol. I expanded this picture of him with ai since it didn’t fit before. I changed his hair strands, skin, and stuff—and even his eye lenses myself meticulously (not ai). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please reblog :( and happiest birthday to our Dino! He’s amazing just the way he is—so full of energy, talent, and charm that he never fails to inspire us all. I hope this year brings him nothing but happiness, success, and moments where he feels truly proud of everything he’s accomplished. He’s one of a kind, and the world is brighter because of him. I’m still waiting for him to give me a chance, though...

The slam of the file against your desk was so loud it nearly toppled your coffee mug. You flinched but didn’t look up immediately. No, acknowledging theatrics only fed the beast. Instead, you calmly capped your pen, setting it down with deliberate precision. He hated when you did this—acted like you had all the time in the world when he came storming in.

“You’re welcome for the heart attack,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You exhaled slowly through your nose before finally glancing up. There he was, Detective Lee Chan—better known as Dino, the human embodiment of caffeine and stupidity. His tie was undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face, as if he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“Detective,” you said with a polite nod, lacing your voice with as much fake sweetness as you could muster. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this… unexpected visit?”

“I brought you a gift,” he said, sliding the file closer to you. “A slam-dunk case. You’ll love it. All the evidence is right there. Can’t miss.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Last time you said that, I spent three weeks untangling jurisdiction issues. Do you even know how many late nights I had to pull because of you?”

Dino wasn’t actually an idiot no matter how many reckless decisions he makes. His instincts were razor-sharp, his record impeccable, and annoyingly enough he was usually right when it mattered. Last month, for example, his so-called ‘gut feeling’ about a drug ring being connected to a string of convenience store robberies was spot-on. His lead cracked open a case that had stumped everyone else for months. But damn if his delivery didn’t make you want to strangle him sometimes.

Dino, unbothered by your skepticism. “Yeah, but we nailed that drug ring, didn’t we?”

You hated when he was right and he knew it. “Fine,” you muttered, pulling the top file toward you and flipping it open. A mid-level burglary case, nothing too flashy at first glance. But as you skimmed through his notes, it was tight, methodical, and annoyingly thorough—you spotted the potential for something bigger.

“This better not be a ‘just trust me’ situation,” you said, glancing up at him. “If I’m staying late over this, it better pay off.”

He grinned, pushing off the desk. “Relax, Prosecutor. You know I don’t miss. This one’s airtight.”

And the thing that frustrated you most was that, you knew he was probably right. Dino didn’t swing unless he knew he’d hit the target. But it didn’t mean you had to let him bask in the glory without making him sweat first.

Now you opened the next file flipping through the pages. But this time the further you read, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. And not in a good way. This wasn’t a slam dunk. It wasn’t even a half-hearted layup.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, shaking your head as you thumbed through the mess of paperwork. “You interrogated the suspect without a lawyer present?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t ask for one.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “You didn’t inform him of his rights properly, did you?”

“Details, details.”

“And this eyewitness? The one who conveniently claims they saw the suspect fleeing the scene? They’re twelve, Dino. Twelve.”

“Kids are observant!” he protested.

“They’re also notoriously unreliable in court. Oh, and let’s not forget this,” you said, holding up a grainy surveillance photo that looked like it had been taken with a potato. “Is this your so-called smoking gun? Because it could literally be anyone.”

Dino, arms crossed, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just presented you with a flaming dumpster fire disguised as a case. “You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!” He sat up, his chair scraping against the floor. “The point is, this guy is guilty. I know it. You know it. Hell, even he knows it. Why are you so hung up on the technicalities?”

“Technicalities?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your best efforts. “You mean the law? The thing we’re both supposedly here to uphold?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me the lecture. Do you even care about justice, or is paperwork your true love?”

Your jaw tightened. “Do you even care about rules, or is your brain just made of air?”

The words hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. For a minute, neither of you spoke, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

There was a reason the firm always paired you with Dino for the cases no one else could touch, the ones buried under decades of dust or tangled in enough red tape to suffocate an entire department. It wasn’t because you liked each other—oh, God, no. The mere sight of Dino’s cocky smirk had you fantasizing about slamming his face into your meticulously organized desk. And you were pretty sure your obsession with the rulebook made him consider hurling you off the nearest courthouse steps.

No, the firm didn’t stick you together because you worked well; they did it because you got results.

Dino was a wildcard in the courtroom. He was reckless in a way that somehow always paid off. He’d bend every rule in the book, dive headfirst into risks that no sane professional would take, and then, just when everyone thought he was about to crash and burn, he’d pull off a result so airtight it left no room for appeal. To him, the law wasn’t some sacred structure but a weapon to be wielded, a chessboard where his unpredictable moves kept everyone including you on edge. But then there was you: the polar opposite. Where Dino thrived on improvisation, you thrived on preparation. Every motion you filed was flawless. Every precedent cited, every objection raised, was calculated. You built cases brick by brick, layering facts, timelines, and evidence until there was no room for doubt. You didn’t gamble, didn’t deviate, didn’t take risks. You didn’t need to because your method was bulletproof.

So, of course, throwing the two of you together was a recipe for war. You didn’t just clash; you collided like two freight trains on a collision course. Dino would rush into a strategy meeting late, armed with some half-baked plan, reeking of coffee and audacity, while you’d already drafted three versions of the closing argument. You’d roll your eyes at his recklessness; he’d scoff at your obsession with boring technicalities. It wasn’t just your approaches that set you off, though. It was the way he got under your skin. Dino had this uncanny ability to needle you in just the right way. He’d make some offhand comment about your obsession with color-coded spreadsheets or the way you probably alphabetized your sock drawer and you’d feel your blood pressure skyrocket. But you weren’t innocent, either. You knew exactly how to press his buttons, whether it was calling his brilliant-but-illegal idea juvenile or quietly rephrasing his arguments in court to make them admissible without giving him credit. And yet as much as you hated each other, the firm couldn’t stop throwing you together. Those cases where everything was on the line, went to you and Dino. Why? Because for all the throat-slitting arguments, for all the nights you spent slamming doors and trading insults that could scorch earth, you delivered. Together.

It wasn’t pretty. Your fights were the stuff of office legend. Once, he stormed into your workspace at 2 a.m. after you’d rejected one of his leads as ‘inadmissible garbage.’ You’d stood toe-to-toe, voices raised to the point that security came by to check if someone was being assaulted. Another time, you’d shredded one of his witness strategies so thoroughly in a meeting that the room fell silent. Dino didn’t speak to you for three days after that which, honestly, was the most peaceful stretch of your career. But whenever you were on a case together, something just clicked. Dino’s instincts and risk-taking cracked open doors that no amount of careful planning ever could. Meanwhile, your meticulous follow-through turned his madcaps into something actionable. It was maddening, really. He’d drag you into situations so precarious they felt like career suicide, and you’d spend hours, sometimes days, pulling everything back from the brink. But in the end it always paid off.

Take the Serrano case, for example. A cold case involving a missing heiress, dismissed as a dead end by everyone else. Dino had dragged you into some dilapidated motel off the interstate to interrogate a retired cop. The guy’s statement wasn’t even admissible, and you told Dino as much, several times, in increasingly colorful language. But damned if Dino didn’t come away with a critical piece of information: the location of a long-abandoned storage locker. The locker led to evidence, which led to a confession, which led to a headline-making conviction. And as much as you hated to admit it, the case would’ve gone nowhere without his reckless brilliance. Of course, Dino never let you live it down. “You’re welcome,” he’d say, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t nearly given you an ulcer.

The truth was, you couldn’t stand Dino because you saw what made him dangerous: he was too smart for his own good. He didn’t play by the rules because he didn’t need to. He could charm his way out of trouble, think on his feet, and pull victories out of situations that should’ve been unwinnable. And that terrified you, because it made you question everything you believed about the law, about order, about the system you’d built your entire career on. And Dino couldn’t stand you because you represented everything he hated: authority, rigidity, rules. He thought you were too stuck in your ways to see the bigger picture, too concerned with ticking boxes to actually fight for justice. He saw your meticulousness as a cage, not a strength. You didn’t see eye to eye, you barely saw each other as human but when it came to the job, you were a fucking force of nature. And that’s what made working with Dino so antagonizing. Because for all the fights, all the late-night shouting matches, there was a small, annoying part of you that knew you wouldn’t want anyone else by your side in the trenches. You both respected each other. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but deep down, you knew Dino wasn’t just reckless; he was brilliant. And he knew you weren’t just a stickler for rules; you were a goddamn powerhouse in the courtroom.

So, the firm kept throwing you together, because when you weren’t busy trying to rip each other’s throats out, you were unstoppable. And that was the most infuriating part of all.

“I care about catching culprits,” Dino said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “That’s my job. And I’m damn good at it. So maybe you could try trusting me for once instead of nitpicking every little thing I do.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, equal parts frustration and something you didn’t want to name or maybe it was just you. “You think I don’t trust you?” your voice low. “This isn’t about trust, Dino. We need to do it the right way. Because if we don’t, the culprits walk. And that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just held your gaze, his dark brown eyes searching yours. It was maddening, the way he could make you feel like the bad guy when he was the one who barged in here with his half-baked case and his cocky attitude.

Finally, he stepped, grabbing both files off your desk. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “You want it done your way? Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when this guy slips through your fingers.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your office with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

God, you hated him.

…Right?

Two

The crime scene smelled like damp concrete and stale cigarettes. The flickering fluorescent light overhead made the whole place feel like a bad noir film except the lead detective was a walking disaster, and you were too pissed off to even pretend to care about aesthetics.

You arrived late, thanks to traffic and Dino conveniently forgetting to send you the exact location until the last minute. When you finally pushed through the throng of officers, there he was, doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped as you stormed over, heels clicking sharply against the cracked pavement.

Dino was leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, arms crossed, smirking at the suspect he’d cornered—a wiry guy with a nervous tic and shifty eyes. The kind of guy whose lawyer would have a field day with this.

“Prosecutor,” Dino drawled, straightening up when he saw you. “Glad you could join us. You missed all the fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you bit out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to the suspect, who looked like he wanted to melt into the wall. “I’m getting answers. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You’re not supposed to be interrogating him yet! We don’t even have his lawyer present—”

Dino cut you off with a dismissive wave. “Relax. He waived his right to a lawyer.”

You turned to the suspect, your voice controlled but wanting to cut throats. “Did you actually waive your right, or did he pressure you into saying that?”

“I—uh—” the guy stammered, his eyes darting between you and Dino like he was watching a tennis match.

“Don’t answer that,” Dino interrupted, stepping in front of the suspect like some overprotective guard dog, which you kinda agree with since he is a dog. “You’re not his lawyer.”

“And you’re not a fucking prosecutor!” you almost shouted, stepping closer, practically nose-to-nose with him now. “Detective, do you have any idea how much you’ve jeopardized this case? This isn’t some TV cop drama where you can just rough someone up and hope it sticks!”

Dino’s smirk widened, which only made you angrier. “You’re so uptight, I’m surprised your shoes don’t file complaints against you.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who probably keeps a bail fund in his back pocket,” you sneered. “And for the record, I’m shocked you haven’t been arrested for stupidity yet.”

He laughed, low and irritatingly amused. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, though whether it was from rage or the way his voice dipped just slightly on the word cute, you refused to analyze. “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this into one of your pathetic jokes. This is serious, Dino. You’ve completely screwed my angle for the prosecution!”

“And what angle would that be?” he shot back. “Letting this guy lawyer up and walk out the door before we can get anything useful? You’re too busy playing by the rules to actually win.”

“You think winning means cutting corners and breaking the law?”

“I think winning means putting culprits behind bars,” he said, his voice hard now. “But hey, maybe that’s just me. What do I know, right? I’m just the reckless idiot who actually works the streets.”

Oh, God, you hated him. And right now, you hated him even more for standing too close, for taking up too much space in the already suffocating air between you. Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out reason, a deep, thrumming beat that you were sure he could hear. You prayed he couldn’t, but Dino always noticed things he wasn’t supposed to. It pressed against your skin, heated and unrelenting, until it felt like the walls might cave in from the sheer force of it. He didn’t move, of course. He never did. And you couldn’t decide if you wanted to step back to get some air or close the too-small space entirely, if only to finally shut him up. It was never just about the law with him, never just about his tendency to play fast and loose with the rules while you meticulously dotted every i and crossed every t.

You glared at him, the tension crackled between you like a live wire, sharp and dangerous. For a split second, you wondered what would happen if you closed the already too-small space between you.

Would he flinch? Would you?

His eyes darted to your mouth for the briefest of moments, a flicker, gone almost as soon as it happened. But it was enough. Your breath caught, and your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with anger.

Fuck.

No. Absolutely not.

You took a deliberate step back, breaking whatever the hell that was. “We’re done here,” you said, your voice clipped. “And don’t even think about pulling this kind of shit again, or I swear to God—”

“Relax, babygirl,” he said, holding up his hands to mock. “I’ll play nice. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a Boy Scout,” you muttered, brushing past him. As you walked away, you felt his gaze linger on your back, heavy and unrelenting. It made your skin prickle in a way you hated.

-

The precinct’s parking lot was quiet except for the muffled sounds of traffic in the distance and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. You had barely made it halfway to your car when you heard footsteps behind you, quick and purposeful.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Dino called out, his voice carrying easily through the still night air.

You stopped, gripping your bag tighter before turning around slowly, your expression set in stone. “What do you want now, Dino? Haven’t you ruined enough for one day?”

He strode up to you, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk plastered across his face like he had all the energy in the world to piss you off. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe, Prosecutor. Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own self-righteousness in the dark.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Touching. Truly. I’m overwhelmed by your chivalry, Detective”

“Yeah, well,” he said, stepping closer, “someone’s gotta look out for you. You’re too busy being uptight to notice when you’re walking into traffic.”

You glared at him, your pulse spiking as he invaded your space yet again. “Funny coming from the guy who bulldozes through cases like a goddamn wrecking ball. Do you ever stop to think, or is ‘consequences’ just not in your vocabulary?”

Dino smirked, his voice dropping to a cocky drawl. “You’re good at running your mouth. Maybe someone should put it to better use.”

The words hit you like a slap, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it. “Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, practically daring him to repeat himself.

“You heard me,” he said, tilting his head, his eyes dark and glinting under the streetlight. “Look at you—so sure you’re in control. So convinced you’ve got everything figured out. But you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

Your breath hitched, fury, sharper and hotter—coiling in your chest. “You think you’re that someone?” you hissed. “Please. You couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “You think you can handle me?” He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something woodsy and infuriatingly intoxicating. “You’re cute. I could bring you to your knees before you can even blink. And I’d love to see you there.”

The audacity of him, the sheer arrogance, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins. “You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving at his chest, though it felt more like swatting at a brick wall. “I wouldn’t kneel for you if my life depended on it.���

Dino grinned, sharp and predatory. “You talk a big game, but you’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you hate that you can’t control me.”

“I hate that you exist,” your voice shaking with anger.

The space between you crackling with an energy that was equal parts infuriating and magnetic. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Finally, you stepped back, breaking the spell. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest. “Stay out of my cases, Dino. This is the last time I’m cleaning up your mess.”

He laughed, low and unrepentant. “Sure thing, babygirl. Whatever you say.”

You whirled around and marched to your car, your hands trembling as you unlocked the door. As you slid into the driver’s seat, you could see him pulling his middle finger up at you. That bastard was going to be the death of you.

Three

The morning was already too early, and you were fighting the urge to strangle the first person who dared speak to you. The courtroom smelled like the stale coffee that had long gone cold, and the air felt thick, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. You had a long day ahead, one that started with you walking into the courthouse, still wiping sleep out of your eyes trying to make sense of the case that had already given you a goddamn headache.

You reached your desk, scanning the papers in front of you, mentally prepping for the battle ahead you were about to step into. Not today though, today you were placing your trust in your colleague, Prosecutor Jeonghan.

"Morning, hotshot!" Seungkwan's voice cut through the haze, a little too chipper for the crack of dawn. Your bestie aka the only person who could somehow manage to brighten the darkest corners of a place like this. He grinned as he plopped into the chair next to you, tossing a coffee your way. "You ready to face the disaster that is Dino today?"

"Is anyone ever ready for that?" you muttered, rubbing your temples as you took a sip. "I don't even think I can handle his nasty face right now."

Seungkwan's eyes gleamed. "Oh, come on, you love it. You just won't admit it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. You both knew it wasn’t that simple, but for the sake of today, you weren’t going to unpack the mess that was your relationship with Dino. It had enough layers to rival an onion, and right now you didn’t have time to cry over the metaphorical scent.

"Alright, you two," Seungcheol, the chief officer assigned to the case and both of your close friend, chimed in with a grin as he entered, stretching his arms. "Get ready for some fireworks. Dino's already pissing off the defense lawyer out there. And honestly, Jeonghan looks proud."

Jeonghan was a menace, no doubt about it, but he was also a goddamn genius. He was the kind of prosecutor who could make you question your career choices every time you shared a courtroom. He wasn’t just a menace; he was a finely tuned madness wrapped in a tailored suit, armed with a smirk that said, I know something you don’t. And he probably did. If there was anyone you’d trust to handle something when you couldn’t or just flat-out refused—it was him. He had the kind of street smarts you couldn’t teach, an instinct for reading people that felt almost psychic at times. Jeonghan wasn’t loud or brash like Dino, but his calm, almost predatory confidence was just as hot. He wasn’t just clever, he was deviously resourceful. If evidence didn’t align perfectly, Jeonghan would find a way to weave it into a narrative that made the jury sit up straighter, lean in closer and eat out of his hand. He didn’t play dirty, not technically, but he’d push right up against the edge of what was permissible, flashing that gremlin smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Witnesses loved him, judges respected him, and opposing counsel fucking feared him. And rightly so. Jeonghan didn’t just know the law—he understood the game behind it. He could charm the pants off a room full of skeptics, make them see the story he wanted them to see, and by the time they realized what he’d done, the verdict was already sealed. It wasn’t just skill, it was an art form, and Jeonghan painted masterpieces every time he stepped into the courtroom.

Pairing him with Dino was like setting a match to gasoline. Dino’s reckless energy, combined with Jeonghan’s calculated cunning, created a dynamic so volatile it was a miracle the courthouse hadn’t burned down yet with their play. And of course they got results—high-profile convictions, airtight arguments but working anywhere near them felt like trying to wrangle wild animals while they smugly watched you struggle. Jeonghan was a brilliant menace.

Opposing counsel hated going up against you, Dino, and Jeonghan—a nightmare trio they couldn't outrun. And your firm adored the chaos you three brought to court because, no matter how unconventional the methods, you always delivered wins. You were the dream team they loved, and everyone else feared.

Of course, Dino was already making waves and teaming up with Jeonghan. But now it was only a matter of time before he turned this courtroom into his personal wrestling ring, but the last person he wanted to tangle with? You.

The doors to the courtroom slammed open with a force that could’ve been felt from a mile away. Dino walked in and right beside him was Jeonghan. You could already hear the sound of your blood pressure rising just by the sight of him. He had that look in his eyes, the one that meant he was about to do something ridiculous, something reckless, something that would make you regret ever agreeing to work with him in the first place.

"Morning, sunshine!" he called out as he passed by your table. “Hope you’re ready for this shitshow. You sure you don't want to be the one to put this case to bed?”

You shot him a look that could’ve frozen hell over, narrowing your eyes. "You're not gonna win this case, Dino. Not if charm’s the only thing you’re bringing to the table. Leave it to Jeonghan"

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Jeonghan chimed, “I’m just here to look good and clean up your messes later.”

“Careful," he smirked, leaning forward on the back of your chair, his breath hot against your ear. "I might actually win this case with my charm alone. He trusts me."

Jeonghan snorted. “I trust you to do one thing, Dino. Create chaos. Which is great for me, really. Makes me look even better when I swoop in and save the day.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you gritted your teeth. “Maybe if charm was evidence, you’d be a star witness. And Jeonghan, let’s not pretend you’re not just here for the applause."

Though the snide remark hung between you and Dino like smoke, thick and suffocating as he flashed that cocky grin of his, god, it was maddening how much you wanted to punch it off his face. But there was no time for that. You were in a courtroom, surrounded by a crowd of people who didn’t give two shits about your personal grudges. They were just waiting for the show to begin. And right now, the show was all about Dino and his charming ass.

The judge entered, and the room fell into a hush as the proceedings began adjusted to the presence of authority. But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering, especially at your table. Jeonghan handled the case with the precision of a surgeon. Every argument he made was razor-sharp, every point calculated to perfection. Watching him in action was like witnessing a masterclass in courtroom strategy. You felt a swell of pride, not that you’d ever admit it out loud, of course. Jeonghan didn’t need the ego boost. Then there was Dino. While Jeonghan worked the courtroom with elegance and finesse, Dino seemed hellbent on bulldozing his way through the defense with pure, unfiltered madness. Subtlety? Restraint? Professional decorum? Not Dino’s style. Instead, he was practically throwing barbed comments that bordered on outright insults. The poor defense counsel looked like they were ready to crawl under the table. And the judge was not having it. Dino had already earned himself two warnings within the first twenty minutes, and judging by the way the gavel slammed down after his latest stunt, he was this close to being thrown out. But did that stop him? Of course not. This was Dino we’re talking about—a man who seemed to thrive on walking the razor-thin line between brilliance and complete courtroom anarchy.

You sat back, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. Jeonghan remained the picture of calm, seamlessly pivoting between making his case and finely cleaning up Dino’s messes, all while maintaining that smug composure. It was clear why you trusted Jeonghan to handle things when you weren’t in the mood or the mental space to deal with the circus. Unlike Dino, Jeonghan knew how to work a courtroom without turning it into a WWE match.

-

The courtroom cafeteria was unusually crowded today. You sat at the corner table, papers spread out in front of you, pretending to focus on work but really just avoiding small talk. The last thing you needed was to deal with someone interrupting your already thin patience.

That was, until Jeonghan slid into the seat across from you, his signature gremlin smile firmly in place. He looked too smug for someone who just wrapped up a grueling morning session in the courtroom. “What?” you asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in your tone.

“Relax, I’m here to bask in my own brilliance,” he replied, helping himself to the coffee you had been saving for yourself. You watched as he sipped it like he’d earned it, the audacity rolling off him in waves. The worst part was that he had earned it. Jeonghan was the only person in the firm who could win a case and steal your coffee in the same breath, and somehow, you wouldn’t want to slap him for it. Well, not entirely.

Just as you were about to retort, Seungcheol appeared, dropping a folder on the table with a thud. He looked like someone who had been wrangling a circus all day, because that's exactly what working with Dino felt like. “You’re welcome,” he said without preamble, flopping into the seat beside you. “I just spent the last hour keeping Dino from getting held in contempt.”

You snorted, finally peeling your eyes away from your notes. “That’s a full-time job.”

“He’s a trouble,” Seungcheol muttered, running a hand down his face. “And somehow, I’m the one who gets roped into damage control every time.”

Jeonghan leaned back, clearly amused. “Oh, please, as if you don't bully him enough.”

Before Seungcheol could argue, Dino appeared for the briefest moment, swaggering past your table. He shot you a grin that was one part arrogance, two parts trouble, and called out, “Don’t miss me too much!” as he disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t even bother responding. Seungcheol groaned. “See? That’s what I’m dealing with.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Anyway, how’s your prep going? Or are you too busy glaring at Dino to focus?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into a folder. “Prep’s fine. Unlike some people, I don’t need to cause a spectacle to win.”

Jeonghan just grinned, and Seungcheol, despite his exhaustion, chuckled. The dynamic was exhausting but damn, did it work.

The case in front of you was messy, layered with too many moving parts. Fraud, bribery, and a corporate paper trail so convoluted it felt like the legal equivalent of untangling Christmas lights. But somehow, between you, Jeonghan, and, yes, even Dino, things were starting to click. Slowly. Painfully

Jeonghan had already pointed out the glaring inconsistency in the timelines. The CEO of the accused company had claimed to be in Beijing during a key transaction, but Jeonghan’s eye caught a discrepancy in a hotel invoice. The CEO had, in fact, checked out two days earlier than he’d testified, meaning he was likely back in the city, orchestrating the whole thing. It was the kind of detail that could unravel a defense if played correctly. You had pieced together a pattern in the financial documents. The bribes weren’t direct transfers, too obvious for someone this slick. But they were funneled through fake consulting fees paid to shell companies. Shell companies you’d traced back to one of the CEO’s close associates. And Dino, well, credit where it’s due, the guy was a bloodhound when it came to witnesses. He’d managed to corner a junior executive who had been ready to deny everything until Dino dropped a few too-specific details about her involvement. Turns out, she had been the one handling the encrypted emails. Dino had gotten her to crack, and now she was teetering on the edge of flipping. Honestly, his ability to charm, intimidate, and outmaneuver people in the same breath was too impressive.

Seungcheol leaned back, rubbing his temples as he reviewed the stack of papers in front of him. Even he had to admit it was a strong case, and Seungcheol rarely handed out compliments. “This might actually work,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You glanced at Jeonghan, who was already scribbling something onto a legal pad, his mind a thousand steps ahead as always. Across the room, Dino was on the phone, probably sweet-talking the junior exec into handing over more details.

Four

The precinct always smelled like stale coffee and paperwork—if paperwork had a smell, that is. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. Or, at least, the kind of home where you constantly wanted to throw someone through a window. And today that someone was Dino, like he wasn’t a full-grown ass man but a goddamn trouble magnet with a badge.

The day had already been a shitshow. Another interview, another suspect who thought they could outsmart the system or worse, you. And it didn’t help that Dino, of all people, had been in the room, throwing in his little side comments like he was auditioning for a buddy cop movie. By the time you stormed out of the interrogation room, you were one bad comment away from losing your badge and your mind.

You headed straight for the coffee machine, the ancient beast that churned out something vaguely resembling caffeine. The cups were paper-thin, the sugar was always clumped, and the cream, if you could call it that, came in those little pods that looked like they expired sometime in the 90s. But it was coffee, and you needed it.

God, you needed it.

Just as you finished pouring your first cup and reached for a sugar packet, he appeared. You didn’t even have to look. You felt him like a storm cloud rolling in, all smug energy and shitty cologne.

“Rough day?” Dino’s voice was way too cheery for someone who had spent the last two hours watching you get stonewalled by a suspect.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Fuck off, Lee.”

Dino laughed, that low, grating chuckle that made you want to slam the coffee pot over his head. “That’s no way to talk to a teammate.”

You turned to glare at him, your hands still gripping the coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping you from committing a crime. “Teammate? You sat there and let me handle the entire interview while you played with your pen like a goddamn child.”

“I was observing,” he said, slanting against the counter. His first two buttons were unbuttoned, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and yet he still managed to look very confident. “You had it under control, right?”

“I had nothing under control, thanks to you, Detective.” you snapped. “Next time, maybe try contributing instead of sitting there like a pretty little statue.”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Dino smirked, and you wanted to throw your coffee at him.

Before you could fire back, Sergeant Mingyu walked in, a towering figure with an easygoing grin. He took one look at the two of you and burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, you two are at it again?” Mingyu said, grabbing his own cup and shaking his head. “It’s like we're watching a rom-com, except way more violent.”

“There’s no ‘rom’ here,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes at Dino. “Just an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for dangerous women.”

“Dangerous? The only thing dangerous here is you trying to do your job,” you about to fist up.

Mingyu nearly choked on his coffee, laughing so hard he had to set his cup down. “God, Dino, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But seriously, she’s gonna bite your head off one day.”

Dino shrugged, unbothered. “Eh, I can handle it.”

“You think you can handle it,” you muttered, turning back to the coffee machine to pour another cup.

Mingyu leaned closer, still grinning. “You know, watching you two is the best part of my day. You’re like fire and gasoline.”

“Yeah, well, one of us is about to get burned,” you said, shooting a pointed look at Dino.

That stupid smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. For now.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee and praying it would be enough to get you through the rest of the day.

Mingyu’s voice broke. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two actually like each other.”

You glared at him. “Drink your coffee, Sergeant, before I throw it at you.”

He just laughed, shaking his head as he walked away. And you just finished your coffee, trying to shake off the heat rising in your cheeks. It’s just caffeine, you told yourself. Definitely just the caffeine.

-

It was late. Too late. Everyone else had cleared out hours ago, leaving you with a mountain of work and the ghost of Detective Lee Chan's incompetence haunting your every move. You stared at the stack of reports in front of you, each one messier than the last. Half of them didn't even make sense. Who wrote "suspect maybe had a knife, or maybe it was a gun, unclear" in an official report? Oh, right-fucking Dino. If he spent half as much time actually doing his job as he did annoying the shit out of you, you might actually get some sleep tonight.

But no. Here you were. Alone. Stuck cleaning up others' mess like always.

The door opened, and you didn't even have to look up to know who it was. That air had a very distinct energy, and it was currently barreling toward you at full force.

"What the fuck, Prosecutor?" Dino's voice cut through the silence, relentless. "Why the hell haven't you signed off on the reports?"

You didn't bother looking up. "Maybe because they're a fucking disaster, Detective."

He stalked over to your desk, his presence looming, anger radiating off him in waves. You could feel it, hot and suffocating, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.

"They're fine,” he snapped, planting his hands on the edge of your desk and leaning in. His scent hit you, the lingering smoke of too much coffee. "You're the one holding up the case.”

You finally looked up, meeting his glare head-on. "Fine? Fine? Half of these reports read like they were written by a drunk toddler. Did you even try?"

Dino's jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might actually explode. "You know what, Y/N? Fuck you. I've been busting my ass on this case while you sit here with your red pen, nitpicking every goddamn detail like it's a fucking college essay."

"Fuck me?" You shot out of your chair, slamming your hands on the desk as you leaned forward to meet him halfway. "Fuck you, Dino. Maybe if you spent less time playing the charming jackass and more time actually doing your job, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess."

His eyes narrowed, his mouth curling that only fueled your rage. "You love cleaning up my messes, admit it. Gives you something to bitch about."

"Oh, I hate you so much," you hissed.

"Not as much as I hate you," he shot back, his words a challenge, his tone daring you to push further.

You were too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Your heart was pounding, your blood boiling, and suddenly—

You kissed him.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't even conscious. One second, you were glaring at him, ready to rip him apart in chicken shreds, and the next, your lips were on his, hard and unforgiving. He froze for half a second before kissing you back just as fiercely, his hands flying up to grip your waist as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Dino muttered against your mouth, his voice breathless but laced with that same infuriating cockiness.

"Shut up," you snapped, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. "I'd rather kiss a cactus than deal with you, but here we are."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him. "You'd deserve the cactus."

"Yeah? Well, I'll shove that cactus down your throat if you keep talking," he shot back as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

"Try it," you countered. "And I'll bury you six feet under."

"God, you're insufferable," he growled, but his lips were back on yours before you could respond, hot and demanding, his fingers digging into your sides.

The insults didn't stop. Neither did the kissing. It was a mess, angry, chaotic, and so satisfying. Every argument, every moment of pent-up frustration, every goddamn thing you hated about him poured into each kiss, each bite, each touch. And for once, Dino wasn't the only disaster in the room. But as your back hit the desk and his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind.

You barely registered the edge of the desk digging into your lower back as Dino's lips worked against yours, rough and demanding. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your spine, tugging you closer like he couldn't stand even the fraction of space between you. And you were just as bad. Your fingers clawed at his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His groan vibrated against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. You pulled his hair harder this time, relishing in the pained sound he made. But it wasn't enough.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot. "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

You didn't even hesitate. "Right back at you, Detective."

His laugh was low, dark, and entirely too cocky, but you didn't have time to bite back because his mouth was on your neck now, teeth grazing your skin in a way that had your knees threatening to give out. You hated him. You really did. But god, he was good at this. Too good.

"You're killing me," he moaned against your neck, his voice filled with desire. "The fuck kind of witchcraft are you doing right now, huh?" His lips moved up to your jawline, teeth nipping slightly.

"Is this what you do with all your coworkers?"

Dino pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Only the ones who drive me fucking insane."

You rolled your eyes, but it was hard to keep up the attitude when his hands slid under your blouse, his palms aggressive and warm against your skin. He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less intense. Like he was savoring the moment or maybe just savoring your complete and utter loss of control. Bastard.

"God, I can't believe I'm doing this with you,” you muttered, breaking the kiss long enough to catch your breath.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dino said, his voice low and teasing as his thumb traced lazy circles against your clothed nipple. "The feeling's mutual."

You opened your mouth to retort, but whatever snarky comment you had died on your lips as he leaned in again, his hands tightening on your waist. There was something about the way he kissed you—messy, desperate, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight you or devour you whole.

The desk creaked beneath you as he pressed closer, his hips slotting between your legs like he belonged there. You could feel his hard cock through his pant, could hear the hitch in his breath when you tugged at his tie to pull him even closer and pressed yet another kiss. He moaned into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened it fervently. His hips rolled forward instinctively, grinding his hardness against you. The desk shifted under the force of his movement, scattered papers fluttering to the floor. Breaking the kiss abruptly, Dino's hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. He then again stepped between your spread thighs, intentionally pressing his clothed erection firmly against your core. He unbuttoned your shirt one-handed, pushing the material off your shoulders. His mouth dropped to capture one peaked nipple while his hands unzipped your pants slowly, pushing them down your hips along with your lace panties. He spread your thighs wider, settling between them. It was too much and not enough all at once.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," you said, your voice shaky but defiant as you pull him into another kiss.

Dino smirked, his lips swollen and pink, his eyes dark that made your stomach squirm. "Probably," he admitted, his fingers brushing against your clit, "But right now? I don't give a fuck."

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumline. But then his lips were on yours again, and whatever rational thought you'd been holding onto was gone, swept away in the chaos that was Lee Chan.

And honestly? You didn't give a fuck either.

Five

The morning after was a mess. Not because the office was chaotic, although it was but because every time you looked up, Dino was there. And every time you looked at him, you remembered.

His hands on your waist. His lips on your neck. The way he smirked at you, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you insane.

You hated him. You really did. Except, you didn’t.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. He waltzed into the precinct, throwing out cocky smirks and one-liners like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been pressed against your desk, fucking, the night before, completely at his mercy. Bastard.

“Morning, Prosecutor,” he said, leaning against the edge of your desk in the common shared office with your colleagues, with that infuriating grin. His tie was slightly crooked, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. You refused to notice how good he looked. Absolutely refused.

“Detective,” you replied not even looking up from your papers, your tone colder than the coffee you hadn’t had time to drink.

“Sleep well?”

Your pen snapped in half.

Seungkwan, strolled by at that exact moment, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Am I interrupting... something?” he asked, his tone dripping with implication.

“No,” you said quickly.

“Yes,” Dino said at the same time.

Seungkwan looked between the two of you like he was watching the world's most entertaining soap opera. “Right,” he said slowly. “Carry on, then.”

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Dino, your glare sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just saying good morning. Is that a crime now?”

“Don’t push me,” you warned.

“Or what?” he countered, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’ll kiss me again?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you saw it—the implication behind his smirk. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cocky grin, and you wanted to murder him all over again.

“Go to hell,” you muttered, shoving past him.

“See you there, sweetheart,” he called after you.

The tension only got worse as the day went on. Every time you crossed paths, it was like a live wire sparking between you. He’d brush past you in the hallway, his hand grazing your arm just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Or he’d lean over your shoulder to look at a file, his breath warm against your neck, and you’d have to fight the urge to deck him or kiss him.

By the time the case finally wrapped up that evening after three months of struggling, you were ready to explode. The courtroom had been a war zone, with the two of you throwing out arguments like grenades to the defense. But it worked. The case was a win, and you should’ve been celebrating.

Instead, you found yourself alone in your office, staring at the note on your desk.

File this under: cases where I was right (and you were hot).

You crumpled the paper in your hand, your jaw clenching, but a smile still crept through your cusses. Of course, he’d leave something like this. It was so... Dino. Cocky, smart, provoking, and always managing to get under your skin. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you stormed out of your office, the crumpled note still in your hand. You found him sitting in his office, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Seriously?” you snapped, holding up the note.

He looked up, his grin immediate. “What? I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You think this is cute?”

“Admit it,” he said, now standing up and stepping closer. “You smiled when you read it.”

“I did not,” you lied, your pulse racing as he closed the distance between you.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice teasing but his eyes deadly serious.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. All you knew you were pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongues. His hands gripped your waist like he was afraid you might pull away, and maybe you would’ve if you weren’t so darn tired of fighting this. Fighting him.

“Still hate me?” he asked against your lips, his voice breathless.

“So much,” you managed to say, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he said, kissing you again. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the dynamic.”

And just like that, the war raged on.

The end.

[benz12313]

Boyfriend!Ridoc - SFW Version

Description: I muse about what Ridoc would be like as a boyfriend. I tried to keep it gender neutral, but please let me know if I accidentally missed any female pronouns. I'm so used to writing fem at this point I sometimes miss it if I'm trying not to write that way.

Warnings: slight mentions of death? (more like fear of death? idk man), vague Onyx Storm spoiler (mentioned a scene, but with no detail at all), use of pet name "baby", swearing

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely fucking adores you. I mean think about it, he’s slept with about half of Basgiath at this point (maybe not literally, but still). The man has to be absolutely down bad for you to give that up. Not to mention he clearly has some issues with attachments, and when he does form them they’re strong. He was mad the longest with Violet in Iron Flame, and I mean, we all know that scene between them in Onyx Storm when he finds out about Xaden. So it’s safe to say that if he’s decided to date you, he absolutely adores you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who absolutely needs to be touching you at all times. He’s a touchy guy, so with you, the person he loves most? From having an arm around you in class to holding hands in the halls. When you’re on the flight field? Just touching down? You barely get off your dragon and he’s wrapping you up in a spinning hug, not giving a damn about your dragon’s annoyance of having him too close. Outside of class when the two of you are studying or just hanging out with the rest of the group? You’re in his lap, his head resting on your shoulder, with him giving you a whispered running commentary of little jokes and narration as the group socializes. And when its just the two of you? Cuddles. Constant cuddles. Dude just needs to feel you close, feel your warmth, assuring himself that the two of you are indeed alive and well. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who teases you about schoolwork, but absolutely helps you learn everything you need to. Not malicious about it, or even remotely degrading, just pure teasing. Like “Aw, Y/N, c’mon that problem isn’t that hard. Here you just gotta…” or “Really? I finished that essay yesterday. I bet you’ve just been staring at my handsome face too long, huh? Let me help you…”. Like dude isn’t a huge fan of schoolwork, there’s a lot more important things to be learning and doing, but he’s smart, and even if he doesn’t agree, I guess that history quiz is important to learn. And he’ll be damned if his partner isn’t keeping up. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who shares rooms with you every night. This plays into the touching thing, he literally cannot sleep without you beside him. Not to mention, I feel in my bones that this man would have literal sweat-inducing, crying out into the dark, nightmares if he didn’t have his arms around you. Especially if you guys got together after Violet was attacked in her room. Ain’t no way he’d ever let anything happen to you on his watch. I think he’d last a week, max after the two of you get together before he starts crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night, sheepish grin, and whining about how it’s just warmer with you beside him. The moment he has you in his arms his heart rate slows and every muscle relaxes, and he’s asleep in seconds. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes making sure you’re taking care of yourself as his personal job. He’s a fucking tyrant about it. He hasn’t seen you drink water in the last hour? He’s shoving a water bottle in your hands and giving you a light glare and telling you to "drink". Wanna try only eating fruit or a salad at meals? It’s… “Ugh-ugh Baby, you better put protein on that plate or I’ll do it for you.” as he’s following behind you in the food line. Looking even mildly under the weather? He’s already preparing supplies and urging you to take things easier. Not taking care of your skincare or other personal hygiene? He literally sits you down and does it for you. It’s all because he wants to make sure you’re in the best condition you can be. People die for less in this college, and if he has any power over it, you’re gonna be well and prepared for anything this world has to throw your way. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who you cannot train with, at all. Not because he’d ever hurt you, but because he’s afraid to hurt you. He’d take it so fucking easy on you, that training with him wouldn’t be useful in any capacity. Even weights or running, he’s encouraging you to take it easy, so the dude has to stay on the other side of the room, thoroughly distracted with his own training so the both of you can get something done. He knows what you need, but the man cannot deliver it himself. He has faith in his friends to be able to push you, so he leaves it to them. However, during challenges? Ridoc is front and center, cheering you on without being distracting, and rarely getting scared for you. You kick ass, that’s why he’s made you his. He wraps you in a big hug after, promising massages and snuggles later. His baby just kicked ass after all, they deserve to relax now. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who ALWAYS makes sure you’re watching him when he’s on the mat. You’re his good luck charm after all ;). He’s shooting you looks like ‘Really? They tried that?’ Or ‘YAWN, I could beat this guy in my sleep”,  and you know what each and every one of them means because, well, he talks a lot, so at this point you’ve absolutely memorized what every face means. He also likes to know he has your full attention because you have his attention all the time, so it’s only fair.

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who takes you on secret dates and outings all the time. He loves you, he wants to spoil you, and frankly, he never knows when its all gonna end. From sneaking out to go to the tavern alone to simple study dates in an empty classroom where he’s set up some candles for mood lighting, he is always coming up with new ways to spend quality time with you. It’s one of his favorite hobbies, to see how your face lights up every time. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who your dragon has a unique relationship with. They like him, though it certainly didn’t start that way. The man is loud, irritating, and much too unserious for their liking. But over time, with forced proximity, your dragon has grown a fondness for him. “Like a tumor” they’d say, but then let him cuddle you and lean against their side on the flight field after flying practice when the two of you are bored and don’t want to go back inside yet. They don’t let anyone else within ten feet of them, one extra human is bad enough. I also think that the two of your dragons would have to have a good relationship with each other. Not necessarily as mates, but definitely a strong bond of friendship. He always wants eyes on you and within a close distance, which means if your dragons hated each other, it would just make things difficult for the two of you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who just overall has the best intentions when it comes to you. He trusts you wholly, and expects you to trust him too. It’s impossible not to; he’d absolutely never truly judge you, and has your back in every instance. Trust just comes easily with him. Even if his past conquests come knocking he either ignores them completely (“Do I know you?”) or LOUDLY tells them off if they are feeling bold. No one comes before you in his mind, so there’s no way he’d ever jeopardize what he has with you. 

~ Boyfriend!Ridoc who is just a little sweetheart, who wants his partner to be safe and by his side for as long as time will allow. He’ll do anything to continue having silly dates and fall asleep with you every night. Anything.  

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @the-lake-is-calling

[sunsbaby]

༝༚༝༚

ּ ֶָ֢ 𓍯𓂃 dean winchester x cupid!reader | valentines day special 18+ |

You'd met Dean when he was at his lowest, in which you pulled him up with soft gentle hands. Filling his heart with the love you normally struck within others. He was in debt to you, even if you told him it didn't matter.

"Let me take care of you, baby." He said pleading you with those eyes, his hands were glued to your hips. It was Valentine's day, and Dean wanted to show you all the love you deserved.

He already started the day showering you with chocolates and flowers, everything he found with hearts on it—you had. Now, as the sun set and the moon's light slipped past the blinds, all he wanted to do was take care of you. Just how you took care of him.

"Dean, you've done enough today, it's all perfect." You said, your hands moving to toy with his short locks. Gentle eyes looking up towards his.

His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, shushing you as his body pressed against yours. Slowly walked you towards the bed until the two of you dropped down on top of it. His hands find their way onto your thighs, pulling the flesh apart.

"Please, baby." He practically whined—Dean whining, you couldn't say no. Especially when he gave you those puppy eyes, all love-sick and sweet. So, you gave him a nod, watching as he moved between your thighs.

You hadn't been wearing shorts nor pants, seeing as the two of you stayed home all day. You didn't mind of course, wine and movies with your love was all you wanted. Dean's breath fawned on your clothed pussy, cooling the damp spot that had formed.

He nipped at the inside of your thighs, leaving little teeth marks in his wake. He sucked and gripped them tight as he got closer, hickeys littered the flesh. His fingers teased the fabric of your panties, slowly pulling them away and off of you.

As soon as they were tossed somewhere on the floor to be forgotten about, he dived in. Eating your pussy like a man starved. He lapped at your juices—pulling moans and mewls from you like nothing. He didn't falter, his grip on your thighs keeping you from closing them.

Your hands grasped onto his hair, hips bucking against his face as his nose hit your clit perfectly. Noises fell from your lips and struck his heart like one of your arrows, they fueled him on. His hips bucked against the mattress as his own groans slipped past his arousal coated lips.

A knot formed in your lower belly as your head fell back, the grip on his hair tightened drastically, now chasing your own release with no mind to how he feels. But, Dean was having the best night of his life. Tongue deep in his little cupids pretty pussy, drinking in your juices like a glass of whiskey.

"Dean!" You shouted as you came, which he obviously lapped up like a dog. He continued his attack on your clit, even as your high crashed down on you.

"There's my pretty baby." He murmured against your thigh as you came, he pulled away from your now swollen cunt. Planting a soft kiss to your soaked slit he moved back up to face you. "Y'still think I had 'done enough?'" He asked, a stupid smile etched onto his features.

He stared at your fucked out expression with such love and admiration he'd never shown to anyone else. Yet, as he lay next to you, tangled up as you slept on his chest all he could think about was how much he really did care for you and love you. Dean didn't think he could love, all he did was hurt.

You changed something inside him, in that moment Dean Winchester realized, you were just what he needed in life.

sunny yaps! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYONE!!(I POSTED THIS BEFORE VALENTINES 😽) heres a Dean smut for you all! AS I'VE SAID MANY TIMES I AM NOT THE BEST AND THIS ISN'T PROOF READ PLEASE DONT BEAT ME UP!! I LOVE YOU ALL 💋 KISSES!!

special tags! @figthoughts @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hi. I don't know if you know about such a manhwa as "Only for Love", but I want to make a request related to this manhwa (although not even quite related, but okay). In the manhwa, the main female and male characters in chibi form are depicted as a cunning, observant fox (her) and a stern, grumpy lion (his). And I got an idea: everyone knows that in Mydei's gameplay a lion flashes, and in Castrum Kremnos, there is also symbolism of a lion. So, the Reader has a mischievous, cheerful, ardent and cunning character, she does not know how to fight, but this is what attracted Mydei to herself. Her bright personality brought colors back to his life. The lion, who went through many fierce battles, who is always gloomy, becomes more alive when a little fox fawns on him, who wants to give him her love.

🌑this is honestly kinda perfect since Mydei is indeed lion coded and one of my (underdeveloped) HSR ocs is very fox coded :)) it's quite short tho i hope you like it!!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐱

Mydei moves like fire through a forest, cutting down all who stand in his way as easy as breathing, shrugging off hits as if they’re little more than ticklish to him – which they probably are given his immortality.

“Have your mothers not taught you not to harm a lady?” You quip from behind Mydei as a small group of attackers approach you slowly, menacingly – though you remind calm, knowing exactly what’s coming.

Just as one of them reaches out a hand to grab you, the crown prince of Kremnos releases a powerful wave that knocks all around him to their knees before quickly reaching you. Not a hand makes contact with you as he disposes of each of your would-be assailants with all the ease you’d expect from him.

Mydei pants over the still bodies on the floor, sweating dripping over the red marking on his skin, exposed muscles twitching from the adrenaline still rushing through his veins. You can't help but giggle in delight, which catches his eye, “Wonderful work, as always, Mydeimos.”

He huffs as if your words do not please him, but his cheeks darken slightly from more than exertion, slowly rising to stand tall over the defeated while turning your way. The intensity of his gaze is enough to make a weaker being falter, but you know him better than that – you patiently wait for him to reach you with large but slow steps.

He stops before you, only inches away, staring you down with those golden eyes, hair messy as a lion’s mane, armor still shining bright as sunlight. You observe him for a moment as he pants, warm breaths brushing over your features like the warmth of a lit fireplace on a cold winter night – arrestingly handsome, even out of breath and dripping sweat.

Slowly, you open your arms, inviting him to take comfort in your embrace, with a fond smile on your lovely lips – Mydei feels his heart stutter weakly at the action, aching to melt into you now that the danger has passed.

So he does, dropping his heavy head onto your shoulder before letting out a long-suffering sigh. You can't help but flinch slightly, not expecting him to accept your offer so readily, and in public, no less. But you settle easily, smiling lovingly at his open affection, before wrapping your arms around his tired figure to run your fingers through his soft, messy, mane-like hair. He only seems to melt into you that much more at the action, exhaling in content against your skin.

You can't help but picture him as a large but docile lion, eager for your affection and purring as you provide it, a pleased curl to your lips.

[nameless-jamie]

Recently remembered those tiktok videos where guys would sit at a computer with their shirts off and make their pecs move like typing and now I'm thinking what if Jamie could move his and how might he Tease the reader????

Idk maybe I'm crazy

Pec-tacular Performance

Drabble - Jamie Tartt x wife reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x wife reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scene/language, slight nudity

A/N: I hope you're not mad I turned this into a small drabble, couldn't think of a longer plot than this haha. Hope you appreciate the pun in the title. TY and LY!!!!!!!!!!!

Y/N had long since accepted that Jamie Tartt was a menace. A lovable, infuriating, ridiculously fit menace.

She was curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, trying to answer emails when she heard the bathroom door open. A few seconds later, a freshly showered Jamie strolled into the living room, a towel slung dangerously low on his hips, still dripping from the steam. Dripping all the water onto the floor, being a menace.

"Oi, love," he said casually, running a hand through his damp hair. "What ya workin’ on?"

"Emails," she murmured, keeping her eyes on the screen. She could feel him hovering, standing just close enough to be a distraction.

"Sounds dead boring," Jamie mused. "Dunno how ya do it. Here, lemme help."

She didn’t even have time to react before he stepped in front of her and—oh for fuck’s sake.

Jamie flexed his pecs.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

"Oh my god," Y/N groaned, slapping a hand over her eyes as his pecs bounced.

"Somethin’ wrong?" Jamie asked innocently, except he was not innocent. He was flexing his chest in a very deliberate, very rhythmic way.

Y/N peeked through her fingers, her mouth falling open, he hands falling from her eyes. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah, babe, I’m helpin’ ya type," he grinned, pecs still bouncing like they had a mind of their own. "Look—'Dear Richmond staff, Jamie Tartt is—’" Flex, flex. "—the best footballer ya’ve ever seen." Flex, flex.

Y/N groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Jamie."

"What?" he asked, completely unbothered. "This is a skill, Y/N. Not everyone can do this. I’ve trained for years to get this good."

She peeked at him from between her fingers. "Years?"

"Yeah," Jamie said, nodding sagely. "Blood, sweat, tears—" Flex, flex. "—all for this moment."

"Stop it," she laughed, finally lowering her hand.

"Never," Jamie declared, now making them jump simultaneously. "Bet ya didn’t know I had such talents, did ya?"

Y/N wanted to be annoyed, truly, but she was also undeniably entertained. She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

Jamie noticed. "Ohhh, ya think it’s funny, do ya?"

"No," she lied.

He smirked. "Alright, fine, but can ya do this?" And before she could stop him, he started making his pecs move in a perfect wave pattern, like they were rippling in slow motion.

Y/N lost it.

"Jamie, stop!" she wheezed, clutching her stomach as she laughed.

"See, babe? Ya love it," he said, grinning triumphantly.

She shook her head, still giggling, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "I married an idiot."

"Yeah, but ya married this idiot." Flex. Jamie leaned down, resting his hands on either side of her laptop, eyes sparkling with mischief.

His eyes lowered. "Ya think I could make a career outta this?"

"Absolutely not."

Jamie smirked, then suddenly stopped flexing and leaned in close. "Wanna see ‘em move somewhere else?"

"JAMIE!"

Y/N rolled her eyes and reached out, poking his chest. "Put a shirt on, Tartt, before you give me a heart attack."

His smirk widened. "Ain’t my fault ya fancy me so much."

"And yet, here I am regretting every life decision that led me to this moment."

Jamie just laughed, leaning in to kiss her nose. "Nah, babe. Best decision ya ever made."

And honestly? She couldn’t even argue.

[arcane-ish]

Oil & Water, cupcake

I was rewatching the "Vi in front of the council" scene from season 1 of Arcane. And it's just super funny to me. So the setup is:

Caitlyn: Silco is the big baddie of the undercity. The only reason why you didn't know was because Marcus was lying to you. Jayce: is upset about the bridge attack. He wants to go after Jinx with violent force. Mel: That could trigger war, war is bad. Caitlyn: is worried about the casualties. Mel: wants to negotiate with Silco now that they know what he wants.

Vi is outraged that they want to negotiate with Silco and storms off.

She then has her big oil and water conversation with Caitlyn about how Piltover and Zaun are like Oil and Water and they can never work together just like Caitlyn and Vi can never work out, making Caitlyn cry.

... and then the first thing Vi does is NOT to go back to the undercity. Nope. After just rejecting Caitlyn's offer to come up with a new plan together, Vi goes to Jayce, a different Piltie.

1.) It just intensely amuses me that after like 3 sentences of Jayce Vi immediately recognized him a kindred spirit who she could easily rope into a violent revenge plan. Against the stated wishes of both their girlfriends.

2.) I wasn't really deep into CaitVi discourse in season 1, so I wonder, did we talk about how Vi's speech about oil and water is complete bullshit? And I don't mean that in a meta way, I mean this as: Vi is bullshitting Caitlyn? Yes, I get blabla, Vi is feeling down, she's pushing Cait away. But actually from what is going on on a pure action point of view, Vi is telling Cait Pilties and Zaunites can't work out and then immediately turns around and teams up with a different Piltie to fight fellow Zaunite Silco together?

Like the problem was never that Vi is disappointed that the council didn't help her or that she doesn't think the relationship with Cait can work out. The real "problem" is here that Vi thinks Cait is too kind hearted and cares too much about collateral damage. (which, you know, is deeply ironic considering season 2...)

In that sense, the Oil and Water convo has shades of Vi ditching Caitlyn at the brothel. Deciving and distracting Caitlyn so she can do her own thing.

Vi wants to go after Silco at all costs. Mel is worried that going down after him will trigger all out war. Cait is worried that innocents will get hurt. Vi cares about neither of those things. She is deeply upset at the thought that the council might try to negotiate with Silco.

So she goes after Jayce because Jayce wanted to do the same things as her "We've been talking about talking for weeks now. They're still cleaning the blood off the bridge. When do we say enough is enough?"

I think it's worth noting how masterfully Vi manipulates the shit out of Jayce here. Praising him for being smart, telling him he is a victim (aka insiutating that he's allowed to strike back), suggesting that Cait would want him to strike when we know that is a total lie. [note that I don't think that is a bad thing, like I love Vander and think he likely has his own way of using charisma and I love Silco of course]

Another interesting thing of the council scene of course is that it already shows shades of "Vi thinks Poweder and Jinx are two different people and she's okay with selling out Jinx". That's why she gives Jinx's name to the council. That's why she tells Cait in season 2 that it's okay to take the shot on Jinx.

I think it's also worth noting just how many Zaunites Vi murderizes/helps murderize with the help of enforcers in the factory raid. Beyond just the kid.

And how many more people including children she likely helps send to Stilwater

after just complaining to Jayce how bad Stilwater is.

And after getting tons of Zaunites killed and arrested in her quest for revenge because she is mad that Silco "ruined" Powder, the first thing Vi wants to do is do more raid, kill and arrest even more people.

I want to shout this from the roottops: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON OPPRESSION. Vi does not give a shit about the undercity people when it comes to pursing her own family goals.

I think it's interesting in the context of season 2, how these threads continue for Vi. Again similarity with Vi giving Jinx's name to the council in 1x08 versus saying she's in favor of killing Jinx at the beginning of season 2.

And how she's willing to carve a bloody path through the undercity with the help of enforcers just to hurt Silco and dismantle his shimmer production. (again at this point it was explicitly stated in the council scene that Silco's core goal is the Nation of Zaun, so Vi knows this and is apparently not impressed) So is her willing to take out the rest of the Chem Barons using the Grey really that different? The only difference is that Caitlyn makes her formally wear the uniform.

It's also interesting to read this in the context of the progression of Caitlyn and Vi's relationship. Like if you read Oil and Water not as a tragic breakup but as Vi lying to Caitlyn because she sees Caitlyn as being in the way of Vi's quest for revenge. Vi ditching Cait and feeling bad or not bad about it is a theme in season 1. It leads to Cait being kidnapped and Cait's mom being killed.

I can see how this leads to Vi's guilt. I don't really see the "family dinner scene" as necessarily "Vi is already deeply in love with Cait and so can't bear to see Jinx hurt her". But more as "Vi sees Cait as a relatively well meaning innocent who doesn't deserve this treatment and also Jinx is acting kind of unhinged".

Cait got Vi out of Stillwater, tagged along, Vi tried to ditch her, Cait saved her from being killed, Cait healed her, Cait got kidnapped by the Firelights, Cait tried to make things right via the council, Vi again tried to ditch Cait and started an ill fated revenge. And then Vi gets a front row seat for Cait's grief over her mom.

This is of course where in season 2 Cait starts showing obsessive and vengeful tendencies and a more prejudiced attitude towards Zaunites.

It's also interesting in how far the season 2 raids continue the threads of 1x08, on one hand Caitlyn still talking about avoiding additional bloodshed, but also it being a continuation of Vi's bloody "dismantle Shimmer" operation (that maybe ends up going too far/veering into the wrong direction).

So the question is when and Vi actually falls for Caitlyn. My personal take as a more casual/occasional CaitVi enjoying person who was never deep in the fandom.

I think Vi saw Caitlyn was hot but basically thought from the start that anything there was a bad idea. Plus she was distracted by her family goals.

I think Caitlyn had feelings very quickly, probably starting to blossom around the "I can tell you have a good heart".

I do think there's an element there of Vi seeing Caitlyn as this well meaning sheltered good thing, the one bright spot. Again especially since imo she's respulsed by Zaun and how much it has changed on her. And yes it's super frustrating that her not feeling attached to Zaun, not seeing the beauty in Zaun seems to include Ekko. Like she is clearly admiring the tree and everything, but her thirst for revenge against Silco is stronger. It seems to me like she still lumps Ekko in with the people who have changed on her and who she doesn't fully recognize and feel at home with.

I think there's some guilt there for having "dirtied up" Cait's life. (again once more: Vi doesn't have a systemic view enough to see Cait as inherently dirtly for being an oppressor of fully grasping that maybe Cait finds it easier to be optimistic and sweet and kind because she grew up cozily, imo she just sees a kindness that she's drawn to and maybe doesn't fully understand)

I'm curious if there was ever any thinking on Amanda's side that turning Cait dark would be an interesting challenge to Vi falling for Cait for her kindness but also Vi discounting/wanting to exclude Caitlyn from certain things maybe with the idea of "Cait is too kind for that, I should go behind her back".

For the record, I don't think that Vi's motivation is just "being pissy that Silco stole Powder or that Silco killed Vander and now rules in his stead". I do think she does on some level see the plight of the undercity, and her analysis/conclusion that Shimmer is at fault for everything just happens to be very shallow. (again repeat after me: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON THE WORLD

Stop pretending she was an enlightened Marxist/leftist in season 1 when she spent a good chunk of season 1 being very much the opposite of that and blaming Silco while comparatively making excuses for Piltover)

[anakinstwinklebunny]

bun bun this is for BUNNYTINE ❣️

Clayton Beresford learning he’s getting quadruplets through the scanner at the gynecologist on valentine day and literally fainting in front of everyone. And you’re panicked because you think he got an heart attack (not wrong tho). Then to celebrate the news he takes you to that very cute pastry shop downtown but he’s like very careful of you and looking at you like you’re gonna explode. While you’re just a cute happy mama eating her pastry calmly. The quadruplets are his valentine gift 💝 and he can’t be a more proud soon-to-be father. He’s going to make you feel loved even more at night when worshipping your body.

Hope u can do something with this, if not just ignore the ask pooks 🫶🏻

PAIRING: clayton beresford x f!pregnant!reader

You swore you could hear your own heartbeat pound in your ears as the cool gel spread across your lower belly, the ultrasound technician gently moving the probe over your skin. CLAYTON BERESFORD was sitting beside you, softly holding your hand while his face had this worried-husband look he couldn't shake away

“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath, blue eyes flickering between you and the monitor. “I mean… we already knew about the twins, but this just makes it feel so—”

His words cut off as the technician squinted at the screen. Then, she smiled. Too much. Too wide. Too excited

You tensed. “What?”

“Well…” The tech chuckled, twisting the screen so you could see it better before pointing to the black-and-white blobs moving inside of you. “Looks like you two are getting more than you bargained for.”

Silence.

Clayton blinked. “More?”

Your heart dropped. “What do you mean more?”

The tech looked almost amused. “Congratulations… you’re having quadruplets.”

Quadru—

Your mouth went dry. “I—”

A loud thud echoed through the room.

Clayton had collapsed.

“OH MY GOD.” You panicked, jerking upright as the tech gasped. “Babe? BABY?!”

Clayton groaned, eyes fluttering open. Brows furrowed as looked around in confusion. “Did I just…”

“You fainted,” you deadpanned.

Clayton stared at you. Then at the monitor. Then at you again.

“We’re having four babies,” he whispered, voice shaking.

You nodded, gripping his hand. “We are.”

His lips parted, breath coming out uneven. “I—I think I need to lay down.”

“You are laying down.”

“Oh.”

You squeezed his fingers, giving him an encouraging smile. “Breathe, Clay.”

“I am breathing,” he shot back, but he still looked like he was processing the meaning of life. “It’s just—quadruplets. That’s… that’s so many.”

You exhaled softly, rubbing his knuckles. “But we can do this. Right?”

Clayton met your gaze. A beat of silence. Then, his expression shifted. That familiar softness—the love, the protectiveness—settled in his eyes as he lifted your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers.

“Of course we can,” he murmured. “I just… need a moment to exist after nearly dying.”

Later Clayton took you to your favorite little pastry shop downtown, the one with the cute heart-shaped cakes and shelves full of sweets wrapped in red ribbons.

Except tonight, he was being way too careful.

“Clay,” you giggled as he gently helped you sit down, his hands hovering near your waist as if you might break. “I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

“I know,” he stressed, sitting across from you. His gaze lingered on your belly. “It’s just… four of them are in there.” he pouted, trying to understand how four babies fit in your womb..and it's only the beginning

“Yes, baby, I know,” you teased, biting into a pastry. “I was there.”

He groaned, rubbing his face. “This is crazy. I mean--how? I-- I swear to God, you’re not lifting a damn finger from now on.”

“Clayton—”

“I mean it,” he insisted, leaning forward, voice softer now. “You’re carrying my Valentine’s gift. Four of them.” His palm rested on your stomach, thumb stroking absentmindedly. “I’m going to make sure you feel so loved, so taken care of.”

Your heart melted. “You already do.”

“Then I’ll do it more.”

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, kissing his path down your belly. “So beautiful.”

You sighed, fingers threading through his hair. “Clay…”

He looked up at you with the softest, most adoring expression. “You’re carrying my babies,” he murmured. “I can’t even explain how much I love you right now.”

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[je0ng1nn]

SHOW ME WHO YOU ARE (Pt. 2) — Hwang In-Ho

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ PAIRING — Hwang In-Ho x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ INCLUDES — basic Squid game violence, little bit spice, age gap (reader is mid 20‘s In-house is late 40‘s)

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ NOTE — Seriously y‘all, i‘m so so happy that you love my works🤍 i really appreciate all the love.. waking up to over 100 of likes on just a short silly fanfic means a lot to me, i didn’t expect to grow this fast! As a thank you, here’s the second part ! (sorry that this part comes out this late, i have a big blockade 💔)

(PART 1) | (PART 3)

We just voted, it ended up being a tie, which meant there will be another one tomorrow.. I looked up at Young-il, i thought we‘ll finally be able to go home now.. but it wasn’t, i felt myself getting really uneasy. Not only because of the tie, but also because of what happened back in that room. I don’t know how to feel about the whole situation, he killed someone.. to save us? And the kiss too, it got my thinking.. does he like me the way i like him?

We all went back to our normal place to sit as a group, again i sat between Gi-hun and Young-il, like always. I didn’t plan on telling the others, i promised Young-il not to. „Young-il.. Can we talk?“ My head turned to look at him, the others were deep into their conversation.

He was a little surprised at that, but he ended up nodding. We went to my bunk, „What’s up, little one?“ It made my legs weak, he really knew how to make a girl feel good, but i had to focus on this one thing.

„Do you.. love me?“ I asked him, his cold eyes slowly turning softer. „I do, but you’re to you-” I stopped him mid sentence. I expected everything but that. My world broke together, but i couldn’t let this sit on myself, I won’t let go of a guy like this easily, especially not Young-il.

„I‘m not Young,“ I sighed out, he was about to say something but i wasn’t done yet. „I‘m 23, i‘m not a baby, i‘m an adult now. If i want to day a guy that’s twice my age, i will. You aren’t my father are you? I don’t want you to decided on my life like this, please.. Just give one chance! I really like you.“ My voice got a little louder each sentence, but i could care less, it got me angry.

I know, 23 and 49 sounds bad.. but it‘s my life, if i want to date a older guy i can, i‘m old enough, right? Young-il just chuckeled. „What’s so funny?“ I asked, my eyebrows furrow. „You. You’re funny, the way you defended yourself. It‘s cute, but also idiotic.“ His hand went to touching cheek, his thumb slowly caressing my face. „I don’t care if you‘re 30 or even 20. You‘re brave, and you don’t mind saying your opinion. I love the way you kissed me back in that room, it made me feel younger again.“

„I love you more than you could imagine.“

My heart stopped at this. My impulsive thoughts took overhand. I kissed him, not even caring if anyone saw this. Why should they care anyway? Either way, this was the best kiss ever. Full of desire and love, passionate. I let out a gasp and he took the opportunity to push his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues were fighting with each other, Young-il‘s clearly won this fight. After some seconds, we broke the kiss, panting. He leaned down to me, giving my forehead a little peck. „I can’t get enough of you, i hope you know that.“

We were about to kiss again, but suddenly the door opened, out of curiosity i looked in the direction. Players, blood everywhere on them. Player 333 looked like he showered in blood. Young-il noticed my surprised face, he looked into the same direction. „Looks like they killed some people in the bathroom, hm?“ His voice was low, he didn’t seem to like that we got carried away by this sight. He knew i probably wasn’t into anything after seeing this much blood.

And shortly after, the fighting seemed to begin again, both teams attacking each other, arguing about who started everything. Gi-hun called everyone to him from the X team, to see how much players we lost. Young-il groaned at this, i didn’t think much of it and went together with him back to our group.

G-hun started to count us. 47. The other team had 45 which meant we can go home tomorrow after the next voting. I was happy and immediately clung onto Young-il. But the euphoria didn’t last long.

Soon after, Gi-hun had a little ‚meeting‘ with a couple of X players. I sat in between Hyun-ju and Young-il, as we discussed a plan. „They‘re planning to kill us during Lights out.“ Gi-hun said, my body felt numb at that. „What do you mean?“ I asked, just to make sure he wasn’t joking. „They have 2 less than us, they have to kill atleast 3 of us to win the next voting. They‘d do everything to win more money, and killing some of us would bring money too.“ He said, it sounded logical. „Then we should attack first“ Young-il said. I looked at him like he was crazy. I didn’t want to die after all. „No, it would bring unnecessary deaths.. we should pretend like we didn’t know it. When they start attacking, we‘ll hide under the bunks. When the guards come in to stop the game, we will lay down on the floor and act like we were dead, when they check us to identify us, we‘ll grab their guns“

„Are you crazy? They‘d kill us!“ Hyun-ju called out. „It‘s the only way to stop these games.. We have to stop the frontman.“ Young-il tensed up, i shrugged it off, maybe he was just scared. „But they‘d easily overpower us, they‘re probably twice as much as we are.“ Young-il spoke up. „And after all, the other players would be suspicious if everyone of us hid under the beds.“ He continued.

„Not all of us will hide, only the ones that are here,“. Gi-hun said, I quickly looked up at him, in disbelief „So we‘re gonna leave people to die? Just so we‘re gonna end up in a bigger risk of dying?“ Young-il‘s hand went on my thigh, going up and down in a slow pace. He tried to reassure me. „Sometimes it’s important to have some victims to save everyone else.“

I sighed, „Trust me on this guys, two of us will watch out, as soon as we see movement, we‘ll quickly tell you all and all of you‘ll go hide under one of the bunks.“ Everyone agreed to Gi-huns plan. I just did because Young-il did. I didn’t flex right about this whole situation.

2 Minutes until lights out. I went to my bed, all of us choose the ones at the bottom, so we could hide quicker. Young-il‘s bed was almost next to mine. The 2 minutes went by fast, i tried to fall asleep, but i couldn’t. My mind kept me awake all the time.. I don’t want to die. Gi-hun and Jung-bae were patrolling. I felt unsure about all of this, so i went to Young-il..

I whispered as i lightly touched him, „Young-il..?“ He turned to me, his eyes were sharp, but softened when he realized it was me. „Baby? what are you doing here?“ He asked, he pulled me down to sit next to him. He started to caress my hair.

„I‘m scared.. can i stay with you?“

So… I decided i‘ll make a THIRD part, because i currently have a blockade for this story, and instead of letting y‘all wait for the second part i‘ll just make a mini-series out of it🤍 I hope y‘all enjoyed it!! (thanks again for the support y‘all omg)

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