#never want him to worry I need him to let go and be mean and free and feel in control and anything else he wants pls pls pls pls pls please

[sexually-attracted-to-pans]

My drama so far is so much more lame. I'm about halfway through my Freshman year so you have a timeline for this.

Theater: So this couple that's in sophomore year, broke up after three years together. They were cast together as the main couple in our play Puffs this year, and on the night of the second show they had an argument. Now I'm a tech person so I didn't see anything go down but apparently this happened again the next day, the day of our final show. And that night at the cast party, one of the other actors was flirting to the girl from this relationship while she flirt back and that's how everyone found out they broke up. About 90% sure they got together. But anyway the guy was devastated no one saw or heard from him for weeks, we were all getting really worried and then he just showed back up one day and hooked up with one of the senior guys(yes he's bi its high school theater none of us are straight), and we found out he was quitting theater the same day.

(Bonus: I wrote fanfiction about 2 unrelated characters from the play and it was shared around the entire cast before a senior friend of mine read it out load in dramatic reading for one of the actors who played one of the characters that I wrote about. The fanfiction I wrote about to sad gay Hogwarts kids and the life of one of them after the other dies in the battle of Hogwarts. traumatized him. I feel sorry for the man but we have talked and luckily he only holds the grudge against the friends that read it to him, who later wrote smut fanfic about the characters on Wattpad(mine was ao3)).

BEN(before I start this one I want to say I did date him for a month in middle school but I hate him for being a manipulative gaslighting bitch): SO started with small lies last year about being extremely good at a card game he played called Battle Spirits, none of us though anything of it as it was just him being cocky and pretending to be cool.

Then this year, supposedly has 9 grandparents die in the same 2 weeks, is still going to school and claims he cared but never brings it up unless we are talking about something he doesn't know about. Then claims his mom got pregnant with his what 5th sibling, a little girl. We know he doesn't have a mom that he's in contact with as he was adopted and his father is gay(my friends dad is friends with Ben's dad that's how we found out). Then less then 5 months after he made up lies about her whole pregnancy he claims his "little sister" dies of a non-existent heart disease. Still going to school and doesn't even bother pretending to act sad. Claims to win a world wide contest for the card game in Japan, we don't even have proof of him going to Japan over the summer.

We are getting tired and kick him out of the group. You want to know how he tried to convince us to let him back in? Claim he got a girl(from our school who we know) pregnant. Only took a month for him to try and gaslight the school into believing that abortion wasn't a medical procedure which you need parental consent for so that he could lie and say they never told their parents.

He also tried to claim he had the rarest blood type in the world when our school did a blood drive. He was referring to Rh-null also called Golden Blood. "Rh-null aka “Golden Blood” is the rarest blood type in the world with fewer than 50 (43 to be exact) known cases ever reported. While there are only eight main/common blood types, there are an additional 61 possible antigens in the Rh system, which means that the eight main blood types can be subdivided into millions of different blood types. Rh-null occurs when a person’s blood lacks all of the 61 possible antigens." (I am quoting this from an article about blood types: https://rarest.org/people/blood-types).

Yep this man has done so many other small things like claiming to have 1000s of dollars in custom made costumes while showing us ai photos of them, and thousands of dollars in cards for the card game(which might be the only true one as his dad owns a card and game shop).

Now that I wrote that whole thing maybe my life is much worse then I thought...

where do TV shows get this idea that high school is constant drama, nothing even fucking happened to me in high school

[bugisastranger]

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

[hyperfocusthusly]

Say you’ll stay

Full disclosure this was meant to be my @bucktommyfluffebruary fic with the prompt ‘clingy boyfriend’ but I slipped and a bunch of angst spilt into it. I promise to return tomorrow with fluffy house husbands 🫶🏻

Notes: established relationship, sickfic | Rated: G | Words: 608

[Read on A03]

——-

As soon as Tommy picks up the phone Buck knows something is wrong. Tommy sounds rough, voice grating and his breath is audible even through the phone.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit tired.” He sounds exhausted and Buck knows he didn’t have a shift today so it can’t be that.

“You sure? You sound worse than just a bit tired.”

“I’m just-” he can practically hear Tommy worrying his bottom lip. “I’m just feeling a bit ill, it’s nothing really.”

“That would be more convincing if I couldn’t literally hear you wheezing.”

“Evan-”

“I’m coming over, at the very least to drop off some medicine.”

“We’re supposed to be-” he is cut off by a hacking cough. Buck flinches against the phone, waits for Tommy to get his breath back. “-supposed to be taking it slow” he finishes around heavy breaths.

“Yeah, but taking it slow means going at a pace that’s better for both of us, getting to know each other properly. It does not mean leaving you to suffer on your own just because we saw a movie together last night.”

Tommy can’t really argue with that, even if he had the breath too.

“Yeah, okay.” He takes as deep a breath as he can manage and gives Buck a quiet “thank you.”

——-

When Tommy finally answers the door, three knocks, two phone calls and a serious consideration of what it would take to break it down, Buck almost drops the carrier bag he’s holding.

Tommy catches his expression and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

“-m fine.”

“You’re clearly not, I have eyes Tommy!”

Buck steps into the house, closing the door behind him. As they come into the kitchen he presses the back of his hand against Tommy’s forehead. Tommy blinks slowly and leans instinctively into the touch, seemly out of breath.

“You have a fever and,” Buck moves his hand down to cradle Tommy’s cheek, “you know that I love you, but you look terrible.”

Tommy’s face scrunches up at that, but he continues to lean on Buck. Buck puts the carrier bag on the kitchen side,

“Let’s just put that down there and then-” he stops, aware that he is taking on more of Tommy’s weight with each passing moment. Buck slips an arm around his waist and guides him back to the couch. With Tommy safely deposited, Buck looks over to the bag on the side, he’d bought several different medicines. He needed to check what doses were needed and which order they would be best in. He goes to straighten up, but finds himself unable to move.

There is a trembling hand clasped tightly in the front of his t shirt. Tommy tilts forwards and mumbles something into the fabric of Buck’s jeans.

Buck crouches down in front of him, concern written all over his face.

“What was that darling?”

Tommy meets his gaze, eyes red and swimming.“Will you-” he looks frightened for a moment, Buck places a reassuring hand on his knee. “Will you stay?”

Buck’s expression softens immediately, he leans toward closing the gap between them, resting their foreheads together.

“Of course I’ll stay,” he carefully untangles Tommy’s hand from the front of his t shirt, threads their fingers together instead. “I was never going to leave you.”

Tommy reaches out with his free hand and grasps at Buck, holding onto any part of him he can reach, pulling him closer. Buck goes easily, wrapping Tommy up in his arms.

“I’m going to look after you okay?”

Tommy nods gently from where he is pressed into the crook of Buck’s neck.

“Okay.”

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added or removed);

@leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @sad-girl-hours23 @hippolotamus @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @evansbuck-ley @typicalopposite @jamieroyjamieroy

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

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[qqueenofhades]

Okay, since I was tagged in this, I'll weigh in.

First, the original source is just a screenshot of a tweet. Because we need to get better about our information literacy practices, I went and got the original text of the resolution, which you can find here or on Rep. Ogles's website (ogles.house.gov, but I don't recommend it, as it's Trump ass-kissing central). This is because Ogles is a notorious and egregious Trump toady for whom this is basically par for the course. He is an obnoxious Trump sycophant. Publicity stunts to prove his MAGA loyalty is what he does.

Next: yes, this proposes amending the constitution to let Trump serve three terms (which would invariably become more). Yes, this is what happened with Putin in Russia. However, once again, we need to be more mindful about the tone of the information we are sharing and what we are suggesting is possible as a result. I have written before about how the Russian and American political systems are not very similar, and saying "well, Russia has elections and a president and a constitution that was amended to let that president serve for life so that could/would happen in America" is misleading. I don't have the space to go into the whole comparative analysis here, but I'll just point out that America (for now) still in fact does have genuinely competitive elections and a real opposition party, and this is not remotely something that could be pulled off in the present timeframe. Putin pulled this stunt after a decade-plus of ruthlessly consolidating his power on the back of Yeltsin's brief and disastrous privatization in the 90s and 500 years of absolute dictatorship (whether by the Russian Empire or the USSR) before that. By the time he did so, he had also successfully organized the Duma and the State Council (the houses of the Russian parliament) to be full of loyal stooges who would obediently rubber-stamp whatever he said, which continues today. There has never been a real or functional democracy in Russia, full stop.

Of course, you may say, Trump and co. are trying to destroy democracy in America, so we may end up like that! Which! We might, it's very possible, especially if we fall asleep at the wheel! Again, however, the fact that Ogles filed this as a publicity stunt two weeks ago (it's from January 23) does not mean we are in imminent danger of it happening. It also recognizes the fact that they would need a constitutional amendment to make it happen, and as I have said before, the process for full ratification of a new constitutional amendment is deliberately very high. Two-thirds of both the House and Senate and three-fourths (38) of the 50 states need to ratify it (after those same number of states call a constitutional convention) for it to take effect. They do not pass by one simple majority vote in the House and/or Senate, and even in the current congress, there's no guarantee it would be a majority. The GOP has a majority of something like 2 in the House (pending special elections to fill vacancies) and 4 in the Senate. This is razor-thin. Also, I looked at the original text of Ogles's resolution. There's nothing even saying that it was even referred to the relevant committee (the line that should be filled in there is a blank). Because again, landmark legislation does not happen by one idiot MAGA congressman eagerly tonguing Trump's senile orange ass as an inauguration gift of feudal fealty. (Like, if the Orange Fuhrer actually makes it to the end of his second term, he'll be 82, and he's already demonstrably deranged. Are they going to Weekend at Bernie's him for this putative third term, or...?)

Also: The last successful constitutional amendment was the 27th Amendment, ratified in 1992, and it referred to the salary of House members. Guess when it was first proposed? 1789. Yeah, it took literally 200 years to become the law of the land. Hmm.

Lastly, if you're still worried and want to make absolutely sure this doesn't happen, then: vote for Democrats in the 2026 midterms. Even if they literally do nothing and just sit there, they will ensure that this is never brought up for a vote, let alone any of Trump's other legislative bad ideas (national trans ban, national abortion ban, putting migrants in jail for life, what have you). Again: I am not saying that you should not be worried about this, that you should just brush it off, that you should ignore this repeated-yet-again clear statement of fascist intent, or anything else. But if you're panicking about this, then you're distracted from looking at anything else they're doing, and which might have a much more clear and present risk (such as Musk's smash-and-grab of classified information and Treasury data).

Trust me, if this or anything like it gets to the actual point where I think it's a real and present danger, then I will be sounding the all-hands-on-deck alarm like no tomorrow. But in the meantime, even if we're all scared, we gotta do better than posting a screenshot of an unsourced tweet with a "spread this and panic now" message. If you are scared, then take the time (such as I laid out above) to look into how the constitutional amendment process works, what would be necessary to ever ratify it (and which doesn't even take into account the mass opposition that would be mustered), what actually happened in Russia, or anything else. Information is power, so let's do it right.

Courage, etc.

Source

Transcript:

“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.

"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."

It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).

Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.

They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.

One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.

Fight. Fight for God’s sake.

Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.

We are going to end up in a dictatorship.

@ikiyou

Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.

[beomiracles]

𝓚𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝓞𝐅 𝓓𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ “Can you grant me one more wish?” You don’t expect him to oblige, you don’t expect anything at all, in fact you would have been content with even a small twitch of his brow. But the man doesn’t say anything, instead he merely watches you, an almost expectant look striking his features.  You inhale, holding that last dying breath for a second before letting go. “Can you… Can you kiss me?”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 3k ་༘࿐

𝓹airings reaper/entity!taehyun x gn!reader (written with fem in mind) 𝔀arnings angst, major character death, lots of crying, kissing.

#serene adds ✎.. HAPPY TAEHYUN DAY !! except this is not a happy fic because I seem to struggle with anything positive.. anyhow :3

“Please help me.” 

Silence. Nothing but an eerie stillness of silence followed your pleading words. You want to scoff, your eyes twitching as they fight to remain closed. There was no way this was actually going to work. You had been a fool to even consider the idea, much more actually try it. But in spite of your foolishness you were also utterly desperate. 

Just as you were about to give up, to slump back against the hard floor boards and accept defeat; just then, there was a shift in the air. A cold, ghost-like exhale. It hits your face hard, like that of a slap. Your brows furrow, your still shut eyes scrunching together. A shiver runs down your spine, and you do not dare move. — He had come. He’d heard your call and he’d actually answered. You could hardly believe it. 

The creak of a floorboard makes your eyes jerk open, your head snapping in its direction. From the salt spread in a messy circle, to the lit candle in the center, your gaze travels along the open book, over to the far corner of your room. — There, in the shadows, submerged in darkness but still definitely there. 

You swallow, the gulp echoing through the desolate air. “Please…” Your voice is hoarse, on the verge of cracking as you shift on the floor, your body twisting as you turn his way. Once again, your hands rub together as you beg him. — “Help me…” 

He takes a step forward, revealing his tall frame as it emerges from the shadows. God, he was beautiful. So it was true then. All of it had been true. — His face, sickeningly pale yet so alive, ethereal almost. His eyes are dark, shimmering with something you couldn’t quite place, something out of this world. The brows on his forehead twist, if only for a moment. 

Dressed in all black, a long cloak draped over his body as it sways by his feet. He looms over you, his presence demanding and stoic. You do not dare get up from your position on the floor, even as your knees burn and ache for relief. You would be sure to stay put. 

It seems as though he expects you to speak, his expression unreadable as he remains quiet. With a deep inhale you gather courage. “It’s…It’s my mother, she..” Your voice trembles, on the verge of tears you shake your head, blinking the pain away. “She is very ill — I can’t… Please, I need more time with her.” 

At first he doesn't say anything as he merely watches you with the same brooding expression. Your face falls, worry consuming you as you fear that he might disappear once more. He was your last chance, your last sliver of hope. — “Please, I’ll do anything!” Your hands reach for the cloak he wore, fingers curling around the fabric as you cling to him. 

A low, breathy sound, almost a laughter, is pulled from his chest. You freeze when his warm hand places on the back of your head, his touch firm but not forceful. “Time”, he drawls, and he sounds as though he hadn’t spoken in years, yet you find yourself entranced by the mere word. 

“Time can never be brought back. You cannot ask such a thing of the universe.” 

His words make your eyes widen tenfold. What was that supposed to mean, would he not grant you your wish? Would he refuse you, would he leave again, leave you with nothing but the despair of the day to come, and the agony of those that were. 

“Please! You have to help me, I already told you I’m willing to do whatever it takes!” Tears were streaming freely down your face now, ugly sobs rolling off your tongue, meddling with your speech. — He’s silent, quietly observing your weeping form from above. His hand leaves the back of your head, the almost soothing touch gone with it. 

He hums, a low and still sound. “You cannot harvest time for yourself. But you can give.” 

His words make your eyes light up, and you crane your neck in order to peer toward him. “Yes! Please yes, I’ll do it.” You were beyond hesitation now, far too desperate to even think about the consequences of your own actions. To give, that’s what you wanted. You wanted to give your mother time, time to spend with you, to do what she loved. That was what’s important, right? 

The man nods, and you find yourself immediately missing the warmth he provided when he takes a step back. “Very well. You shall have time.” As the words leave his lips an icy feeling shot through your chest, it makes you fall forward, barely catching yourself on two hands as you pant. 

It did not hurt, but it was cold, so very cold. 

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you alone in your dark house, with nothing but a ring of salt, a candle and a book to show. 

But after that things changed. Your mother, once bedridden and ill, was now up and about. It was a miracle, that’s what everyone had said. The way she tended to her garden, made home cooked meals and even picked up crocheting again. — But most importantly, she smiled more. There was a different light to her face, a different joy to her laugh and a whole other woman within her body. 

Doctors said she wouldn’t make it another three months. But those months turned into a year, and then another one, and another one. Five years pass within the blink of an eye. Just as quickly as they had begun they had ended again. You would like to think that those were the best years of your life, you had everything you could have ever wished for right by your side. 

So why was it that you felt so cold? No matter how many hot showers you took, how many hours you spent under the sun or how long you wrapped yourself in your mother’s warm embrace you couldn’t seem to shake the icy feeling looming over you. — It has been that way since… You shudder at the thought of him, of his sickeningly beautiful face. You try to ignore it, you try to shake the uncanny feeling that something is wrong, very wrong. 

The dread that fills you, the sense of impending doom. Everyday you worry for your mother’s health, for her life, in spite of the way she radiated. You feared that it would all one day diminish into nothing. That just as quickly as it had come, it would be gone again. And as your worries grew larger, the cold seemed to strike harsher. 

Ice had frozen your chest by this point. It made no room for love in your now lonesome heart. You could not enjoy your time with your mother, for you feared that your own was running out. 

It was then, on the day that would mark the sixth year, that he returned. And just like he had back then, did he emerge from the shadows. 

The night was warm, but you could not feel it, for you had not felt warmth in a very long time. With trembling hands you tug at the blanket, wrapping yourself up in it as you try to create some sense of comfort. You would delude yourself into thinking that everything was fine, you would try to ignore the pestering cold. But it never seemed to quite work. 

And there it is, that subtle creak of a floorboard, ripping through the still air. You don’t have to sit up, nor do you have to turn your head to know who has come. His presence is just as demanding as it had been all those years ago. Back then, when you hadn’t understood the full extent of his words, their true meaning. 

“You cannot harvest time for yourself. But you can give.” 

And you had. You had given your mother time, you had shared whatever you had left for yourself, in turn trading places with her. Realization struck as his beautiful face came into view once more. He had not changed, for he was timeless, he seemed to be the only thing unreachable by the ever ticking clock that decides your fate. 

He takes a step forward, then another one and another one. Soon he stops by the edge of your bed, dark eyes peering down at your shivering form. — You swallow, “I don’t want to die.” It was the truth, you did not fear death, but you did fear the end of your existence. Your throat feels thick, tears building in your eyes as you shake your head. Perhaps you thought that begging him once more would prove successful. 

But he only hums, a soft almost melancholy sound. It makes your chest churn, the ice around you feels heavy. You could not die, not right now and not like this. How would your mother suffice without you by her side? She would be heartbroken. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It wasn’t right… 

“Please I can’t-” He interrupts you by raising a pale hand, and you immediately fall silent. His face, once unreadable and stoic, now looks solemn. His gaze roams your trembling figure, the tips of his fingers brushing along your cold arm. 

“Can’t you see?” He says, his hand traveling to your chest, his palm flat against your heart. “You are already dead.” 

The words hit you like that of a wave crashing against shore. Dead? No. You weren’t dead, you were… You were… 

Your eyes drop to your hands, grey and lifeless as they clutch the blanket tightly. The biting cold made the tips of your fingers an almost pale blue hue. Suddenly it all made sense. Your vision blurs as you bring your hands to your face, studying them closer. The cold, it wouldn’t leave because it was all there was. Your lifeless self, a shell of who you were, walking amongst the living, an imposter. 

Your heart was not frozen, it was unbeating. Dead. You were dead. You had been since that night, all those years ago. With a shaky exhale you glance up to meet his dark unyielding gaze. It was impossible to read his expression. — “Why?” You croak, the question barely making it past your choked up throat. “Why now?” 

Why had he waited, why had he let you roam this earth for so long. — The man doesn’t answer, instead he extends his hand for you to take. You regard his pale and long fingers, waiting for you to lace yours within his. It was an invitation, one that would carry you to a world outside this one. You wouldn’t even get to say goodbye. 

“I can’t…” The whisper slips past your lips without second thought, the realization weighing heavy on your shoulders. You shake your head, the first droplet of tears rolling down your cold cheek. 

His eyes narrow, brows pulling together on his perfect face. “Your time is up.” It’s all he says, his voice suddenly sounding monotone yet commanding. You continue to shake your head, scooting away from him as your back hits the headboard, the blanket sliding off your body. “No.” 

“Y-You tricked…” You hiccup, feeling the sudden onslaught of tears throughout your entire body. “You never told me I would… That I…” — The man doesn’t say anything, his hand has dropped back to rest by his side, and for a moment you think he might turn back around to leave. But he doesn’t. 

“You willingly gave her your time.” He states as a matter-of-factly, his features remaining stoic as he regards your sobbing frame. You knew that he was right, that you had willingly brought this fate upon yourself, as naive and unknowing as you may have been. This was all your doing. And though you had gotten another couple of years with your mother, you could not bear the thought of parting from her again. 

The cold was worse now, worse than it had ever been before. It consumed you wholeheartedly. Even if he was to let you continue on like this, what life would you get? You were dead already. There was nothing left for you. Nothing but the inevitable grief you were to bring forth on your mother. 

With trembling hands you wipe your tear stained face. Your breath is jagged, like a broken record, playing the same part on repeat over and over. Through bleary eyes, you manage to find him in the darkness. The pale moonlight casts his face in an eerie glow, one that made him appear ethereal. It was then and there you realized that your time was indeed running out. This would be your last conscious moment. 

“Please..” Your voice is low, nothing but a mere whisper. Yet it garners his attention as his dark eyes flicker over to yours. “Can you grant me one more wish?” You don’t expect him to oblige, you don’t expect anything at all, in fact you would have been content with even a small twitch of his brow. But the man doesn’t say anything, instead he merely watches you, an almost expectant look striking his features. 

You inhale, holding that last dying breath for a second before letting go. “Can you… Can you kiss me?” Your words hang in the still air, flashing before your eyes in menacing quality. You had not thought the request through, not once. All you knew was that you wanted to feel something, anything, one last time. 

His expression remains unmoving, he looked almost statue-like as he stood by the edge of your bed. — Your hands had returned to the blanket, now by your knees, and your fingers twist uncomfortably in the fabric. The silence is so loud it rings in your ears, causing an almost screeching noise. 

But then, without as much as a word, he takes a step forward. The mattress dips under the weight of him as one of his knees sink into the soft cushion. His spotless face, now mere inches from yours make your eyes widen in surprise. — He doesn’t say anything, nor does he hesitate when he presses his lips against yours. 

He’s warm. 

For six years, two thousand one hundred and ninety days, you had been cold, terribly so. Nothing could bring you comfort, nothing could make the icy feeling go away. Nothing but him. The small touch of his skin against yours set your body aflame, and for the first time in so long, you felt alive again, even if only for a moment. 

His lips are unmoving against your own, warm and soft. You don’t dare open your eyes, instead you remain equally still, almost frozen in place. And when five seconds have passed you think he might pull away, demanding you come with him to wherever awaited, but he doesn’t. 

You kiss him, you kiss him in the way you would those you longed for, those you lusted after. But not those you loved, for you don’t think you had ever loved anyone like that. Without stopping to think, your cold hand reaches for his face, trembling as your palm comes to rest against his cheek. 

You want to hold on forever, never letting this moment go. He must feel your nails digging into his shoulder now, your hand on his face pulling him closer. But even then, he remains unfazed. For a second you think he might actually kiss you back, that he might reciprocate that feeling of life that you so longed for. He doesn’t. 

He pulls back only when your tongue swipes across his bottom lip, a guarded expression on his otherwise melancholy face. His cheeks are flushed and there’s a soft redness to his warm skin, one that you were certain hadn’t been there before. Though his soft breaths are hardly matching your near panting ones. 

Your hand falls from his face and you swallow. “I don’t want to die.” It didn’t matter if you were already dead, that was not the same as what you were about to face. An end to your time on earth, a cease in your existence. You want to think about your mother, you want to remember her face even in death, and you want to hear her voice even as the ground swallows you whole. 

But you can’t look away from him, from his beautiful and nearly expressionless face. You had never imagined the face of death to be beautiful, for it had always been described as a painful and sorrowful experience. It is permanent, with no way to ever go back. 

Tears spill down your wet cheeks, an ugly sob ripping from your thick throat. Your body trembles, but not from the cold. — “I’m scared…” The admission is a mere breath, one so silent only he could hear. 

He shakes his head, the movement slow and soft. “Don’t be.” Is all he says, and for some reason you find solace in his words. 

Then he presses his lips against yours, briefly startling you as your eyes widen. That same feeling of warmth embraces you once again, and you feel the ice around you slowly melting. He kisses you just like you had him a mere moment ago. Except his kiss holds love. A love that felt almost sacred, like you were undeserving of it. 

Your body feels numb, and you could feel yourself becoming almost drowsy. It doesn’t hurt, none of it does. In fact you can barely feel anything but his lips on yours. 

Death wasn’t painful, nor was it agonizing. It was beautiful. The man before you was the epitome of it, and you did not fear him. You did not fear what would come after, and you did not fear that nothing would come at all. 

Your soul died that night, but it died warm.

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[littleslaywrites]

sleepless | aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: you can’t sleep when aaron is away.

word count: 0.9k

cw: pure fluff

You’d tried everything to get to sleep. A hot bath, reading in the moonlight, soothing tea. Nothing worked.

The clock ticked mockingly, reminding you of the time passing. Aaron had told you he’d be back that night, but let you know it’d be late and to go to sleep. You tried, but the knowledge that he was on his way was enough to keep you up. 

Not to mention it was nearly impossible for you to fall asleep without hearing Aaron’s voice. He always made sure to call you when he was away, knowing the sound of his words would soothe you to sleep. You hadn’t had difficulty falling asleep since you moved in with him, comforted by his presence, and when he was gone, his voice could lull you into slumber.

Giving up on the bed, you moved to the couch. You wanted to be able to hear him come in, considering you were fighting a losing battle with sleep. The streets were nearly empty, with only an occasional car passing. Each time one rolled by, you got your hopes up that it’d be Aaron.

After what must’ve been an hour of trying to sleep on the couch, you finally heard the door open. Sitting up, you rushed over to the door. 

“What are you doing awake?” Aaron said, sounding more tired than you were.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you respond in between littering his face with kisses. 

He smiles at your affection, wrapping his large arms around you. His warmth immediately comforts you, and you rest your cheek on his chest. He doesn’t want to move, savoring the feeling of you in his arms after being away. 

Sensing your peace, he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. You let him, knowing he’ll soon be beside you in bed. When he drops you off and tries to walk away, you grab at his hand. 

“I won’t be long,” he reassures you. When you don’t let go, he leans down to kiss your forehead. Satiated for the moment, you ease your grip.

Aaron slides into his usual routine, checking on Jack before taking a quick shower. Eyes closed, you listen, knowing the sound of the shower turning off means he’ll be climbing into bed before you know it. 

You feel the bed dip beside you, and you’re cuddling into his side before he’s under the covers all the way. Your head finds his chest again, and you wrap both your legs around one of his. His warmth reminds you of how cold it is without him. 

“Missed you,” you say, laying a hand over his heart to feel its rhythm. In response, he leans into your shoulder.

“I missed you, too.”

Aaron feels his own eyes growing heavy. You’re more than aware that his job is far more tiring than anything you do, but he never makes you feel lesser. You don’t know it, but he has the same trouble sleeping without you. He hates making you worry about him, so he would never tell you, but nights in hotels are always sleepless. That’s why he finds it so important to call you. He needs to hear your voice just as much as you need to hear his.

“Was the case good?” you sleepily ask. 

“Mmhmm.”

If it was earlier, or if the two of you weren’t so tired, you’d spend time on the couch, debriefing what the other missed. He didn’t go into detail about most cases, but you provided a much needed light after being surrounded by the darkness of his job. In return, you’d catch him up on the events of the week. He hated not being around, so he’d ask about every little thing. It was to a point where you nearly thought it was ridiculous. He’d ask about what you ate, what you watched, who you saw around. It was endearing, the way he’d listen so intently to the recollection of a trip to the grocery store.��

For now, though, he didn’t have the energy to ask, and you didn’t have the energy to respond. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say. On the surface, you mean that you were glad he was back, returning to your bed after a case. But you mean it even deeper. You’re glad he’s here, in your life. You can’t imagine how you ever slept without knowing he was yours.

His breathing slows, signaling he’s dozed off. In his sleep, he moves closer to you, leaning an arm around you. His weight is a reassuring presence, reminding you he was all yours until he was called away again. 

The morning carries a promise of breakfast, and you can only hope you’ll wake up early enough to be the one to cook it. Knowing him, he’d be the first awake, having adapted to the hours of the early morning. You make it your mission to keep him in bed as long as possible, considering the only way he’ll rest is if you force him. He’ll pretend to hate it, but you both know he appreciates your insistence of getting him to take a break whenever he can.

It’s easy to relax with his warmth combining with yours. Your hands wrap around the arm that’s laid across you. You convince yourself that, if you hold on tight enough, you can keep him from leaving your side. You finally fall asleep, the sound of his breath in your ear and his heartbeat under your palm carrying you into hypnotic rest.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 25: Mike's Mind was on Will . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

So after a full day of us bylers getting bombarded with asks from this one crashing-out mileven anon DAHSDGKASD I am going to drop this piece of evidence from the final post in the Airport Scene saga :)))

So during the beginning of Season 4 we see that Mike is not being himself which is super strange, and we are angry that he's ignoring Will during the airport scene and the Rink o Mania scene. We think that while Mike and El are 'cute' (eh, they're literally lying to each other but whatever) Will is sad. Then, we find out that Mike was thinking about Will. The whole time.

Mike had noticed that Will was mad at him the whole day, Mike was disappointed that Will had been ignoring him in Rink o Mania and being upset, sure, but there are other times that he is sad at Will ignoring him.

The first is when Mike finds out that the painting must not be for him because Will acts so stand-offish about it. The most notable time however.... is the scene with Mike, El and Will walking through the airport while El is talking about her plans. Mike seems so absent from the conversation, looking around and thinking about something else. He glances at Will a total of:

6 Times

Watch this clip to see it all:

Before I argue about this with people in the asks (ugh) I wanna say that these glances are not accidents. Can you imagine being Finn in this scene and accidentally TURNING HIS HEAD in the same place a total of 6 times??? This is not an easy accident to make. He is extremely good at micro-facial expressions, and this is one of those instances.

This scene is supposed to be subtle and quick, so it makes sense why you would not pick up on it straight away. You are only supposed to pick up on it when you know the information later (that Mike picked up on everything Will did that day).

First off we need to establish that Mike is already feeling nervous about meeting Will because he knows from El's letter that Will could be making a painting for a girl. He hasn't been able to reach Will for months, and it gets confirmed later that Mike was acting so standoffish because he was afraid to lose Will. We see Mike's nerves in the way he asks about the painting -- "what's that?"

Mike is now even more nervous because he gets those worries confirmed when Will doesn't elaborate on the painting even when Mike lets him.

So now that we have established that: I will be talking about every instance he looks at Will during the video above and what it all means -

1. "Wha-- really?"

Will glances at Mike at the same time that he glances. Mike then realises that Will is also glancing at him and they quickly AVERT THEIR GAZES at the same time. This action of 'oop almost got found out' makes Mike also get interrupted in the middle of his word. The way he says "really" as well is high-pitched and nervous after what just happened.

2. "Yeah no I trust you"

Honestly these are so hard to take screenshots of, because you really need to watch it to get the full effect so make sure to just rewatch the part in the video above pls <3

Again, not sure why Mike actually glances at Will in this moment other than just to check on his reaction, showing that he's being so careful with what he's saying and doing around him.

3. "Rink o Mania..."

Another super subtle one, but again it still furthers the argument that Mike was caring about Will's reactions to everything that El is saying more than anything. Maybe he just wants him to get in on the conversation or he's worried that Will's being so quiet -- his mind is still on acting normal though.

4. "Okay, are your friends gonna meet us there?"

This one is the one that inspired me to make this post in the first place. It is perfect.

First of all, El was never insinuating that her friends were going to be there. Mike had never been told by El in a previous letter that they were going to meet up with some friends. SO WHY DOES HE EVEN MENTION FRIENDS??? Obviously, he knows that she has made friends but in the letters, he's heard that Will maybe has as well.

RIGHT AS HE SAYS FRIENDS -- he looks at Will. This is no accidental head turn. This is the directors and writers trying to show you that while Mike may seem to be asking about El here (because he's asking about her friends), he's actually got his mind on Will's friends. The reason he asks is because he wants to confirm or deny the worry that he has about it.

This is literally rehashed later when Mike gets angry at Will ignoring him. He does all of thESE THINGS BECAUSE HE WAS SCARED OF LOSING HIM <3 which he says in the bedroom.

5. After "Friends? What friends?"

This one makes sense because Will's just spoken, although it is a little ambiguous whether Mike is looking at him in this frame above. Watch the video if u really wanna know ig. He's probably just looking for what this means as it's the first thing Will says the whole time.

6. After "Angela?"

It's odd how Mike clearly gets a little weirded out by what Will says here but it's pretty much clear that he has no clue that El has any bad blood with Angela. This is clear from later on, when he completely denies that El has been lying to him, and ignores that El gets taken away by Angela and everyone.

There must be another reason for his strange reaction that clearly catches him off guard. He asked the previous question about friends because he wants to put his worry to rest. BUT He now just found out that Will does have friends (or so he thinks, ofc), which is specifically a girl. El talks about a girl in relation to Will in her letter.

Again, I'm rehashing this point: It gets confirmed that Mike thought he had lost Will. So it totally makes sense why he would be caught off guard here.

THEN EL SAYS:

"I want this day... to be about me and you!"

Perfection. This is supposed to be ironic. Because clearly, Mike is not all thinking about her. He has been glancing at Will the whole scene and El saying this is the best little kicker to end it. Mike barely notices something off with El, he notices everything that Will's doing, nervous about his reactions.

Perfect ending to that scene lmao

[awriterinthenight]

"Well I Missed You Too."-Megumi Fushiguro

words: 946

warnings: kissing, megumi makes reader sad, that's it also i'm trying writing for a new fandom so enjoy

summary: How Megumi changes how he shows affection to you

Whether it was kissing, hugging, or even just holding your hand, Megumi was always too shy to show you affection in public. He'd do small acts like buying your favorite snack from the vending machines, or grabbing something out of your reach. But never did he do anything that involved touching you in any way, since it made him blush, and he didn't want people, especially Gojo, teasing him about how red his face got.

You'd first learned about his aversion to PDA when you first started dating. You were training with the 2nd years, when Itadori had taken a nasty hit from Maki. While you knew he was fine, it still worried you, so your hand instinctively grabbed Megumi's without thinking. When you were in private he always held you in some way, so you thought he'd be ok with this.

Instead of him grabbing your hand back or squeezing it comfortably. He immediately froze and stiffened at the contact, his face turning bright red. He dropped your hand, turning away so you couldn't see his face. You were left confuse as to what you did wrong. Maybe he just didn't expect it, or maybe he didn't think you needed to grab his hand. Either way it brought down your mood for the day.

Megumi knew you weren't ok, no matter how many times you said you were fine. He knew that wasn't a good sign. So there Megumi was after school standing in front of your door knocking. After a minute or two you swung your door open, Megumi speaking before you could.

"Did I do something?" he asked, his head hung low, surprising for someone usually so stoic.

You were shocked for a moment before regaining your composure, letting Megumi into your room, and closing the door behind you.

"Yes, well no," you stumbled, unable to find your words, "It's just, when you dropped my hand I-I felt bad. I thought I did something wrong," you admitted.

Megumi let out a breath, taking a step closer to you, "I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I like holding your hand, I swear. I just don't like being like that in front of people."

"I understand that," you said, nodding your head, "I just wish you'd told me, so I wouldn't have felt so embarrassed."

Megumi placed a kiss on the top of your head before he spoke, "I'm sorry, and I promise I will from now on."

Affection from Megumi shifted a bit the more you knew each other. Of course really all the kissing took place in private, or anything really affectionate. But slowly Megumi didn't mind holding your hand in front of your guy's friends, or placing a small kiss on the top of your head.

Megumi started to grow into the habit of either placing his arm around the back of your chair, or keeping his hand on your thigh. The more he was with you, the more he liked knowing that you were with him.

Recently he seemed to grow out of his shy shell. Before training started he would sometimes come up behind you, placing his hands on your waist, then planting a kiss on the top of your head. Sometimes he'd casually walk up behind you when you were talking to someone, and he would snake his arm around your waist.

Today he'd come back from a mission with Itadori and Kugasaki. You'd been forced to stay behind, recovering from an injury of a past mission. The second he saw you, he pulled you into his arms, burying your head into his chest. He'd missed you so much on the mission all he thought about was going back to you. His hand slid through your hair, the other holding you tightly against him.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, concerned since he never showed this much affection in front of people. Gojo was only a few feet away, and usually Megumi hated showing affection to you in front of Gojo, since he always got teased for it.

Megumi shook his head, tilting your chin forward, "No, nothing happened. I just missed you," he confessed.

"Oh," you exclaimed, surprised he was like this from just missing you, "Well I missed you too."

Unfortunately Gojo's loud voice ruined the moment when he shouted, "Get a room," before practically skipping over to the two of you. Megumi scowled, while you shook your head, finding his antics funny.

"So, I was thinking," Gojo said, swinging an arm around you two, and walking with you, "Why don't I treat you guys to dinner. By that I mean you two can go out and I'll pay," he offered, chuckling a bit for some reason no one understood.

Megumi rolled his eyes, "I don't need you to pay. I'm staying in tonight, I'm too tired to go out."

"I try to do something nice and I get denied. If you don't want me and my money I'll just leave," Gojo muttered, walking away from you too.

Megumi slid his arm around your waist, leaning on you a bit. He was tired and just wanted to sleep and rest. Eventually you and him got to his dorm, lying down on his bed.

It was quiet till Megumi broke the silence, "I'm too tired to take you out tonight, but I'll take you on a date tomorrow," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I really did miss you."

You snuggled closer to him, wrapped up in his arms, "I missed you too, and I can't wait." You gave him a small kiss before falling asleep to the sound of his breathing

Ask to be added to taglist, I'm keeping this one separate from my other one

[dross-the-fish]

Love Never Dies- Thoughts and Reactions

This might end up being split into multiple parts but I am not finished talking about Love Never Dies. I did give it a rewatch to refresh myself and...oof. This play needs to be taken out back and shot because that is what it did to every single character in it. NO ONE looks good. Not even Christine. Let's start there. Let's talk about what this show does with Christine because we have completely reduced this character to nothing but her voice. What does Erik miss about Christine after ten years of pining? Her voice. He just wants her to sing for him one more time. The only thing he ever really mentions about Christine is her voice. Though I can't really fault him because if we're being serious about Christine's character...

What does she have outside of her voice? Nothing. Somehow LND Christine has even less personality than she did in the OG musical. She is a cardboard angel that other people pine over, try to control, or envy. She has almost no agency. I said before, I suspect that Andrew Lloyd Webber hates women and Christine does not come out of that unscathed. She spends pretty much all of the musical being bullied by Raoul, mothering Gustave, or being threatened by Erik when he and she aren't reminiscing about that one time they banged 10 years ago. Seriously what even the fuck was "Beneath a Moonless Sky?" For a song about how two characters couldn't resist each other neither of them seem particularly filled with desire. Christine is recoiling in horror and disbelief and Erik looks like a 15 year old who thinks sniffing his crush's hair is peak sensuality.

Mmmm....sexy. But whatever. Christine says at the end of the song she woke up to swear her love and was ready to dump Raoul but Erik had skedaddled so she ran back to Raoul. You read that right. Christine was going to pick Erik after they banged it out and he left and that is the only reason Christine is with Raoul. Seriously Andy? You're going to make her regret picking Raoul over Erik when she didn't even actually DO that? Erik made the choice for her?

*internal screaming* Erik, seriously, how are you going to be upset that she's moved on with Raoul if YOU left HER? Do you really think you have the right to coerce her to sing for you one more time when you were the one who broke it off? The hell is wrong with you? Of course when Christine resists he immediately goes to threatening her child.

When I say Erik is the WORST I mean it. He is reprehensible in this.

But this is about Christine. We'll get to Erik later. LND Erik deserves his own post.

There's honestly not much more to write about Christine. She spends a lot of time cowering from or trying to appease Raoul. She worries about her son and her death is honestly so unwarranted. When I say ALW's work has an undercurrent of meanspiritedness I mean shit like this. Christine hasn't really done anything wrong. I guess she cheated on Raoul 10 years ago? But well she was going to leave him and only stayed because her first option bailed on her? She didn't do anything to Meg. She's been living 10 years in an abusive marriage and her crazy ex who kidnapped her came back to threaten her kid and coerce her to sing his music one more time. Then she just...gets shot. She dies. It adds nothing to the story that she dies. It doesn't feel earned or justified in anyway. It just feels miserable for misery's sake. It's almost unceremonious the way they ax her off because it's not even intentional. Meg misfires the gun because Erik fucks up in trying to talk her down. Christine's death isn't even about Christine herself. It's about Meg and Erik. It's such a useless and stupid death to give this character. How old even is she? Supposedly she's around 18-20 in the original musical (we're ignoring the 2004 movie that puts her at 16) and this is 10 years later? She's barely 30 but she ends up a casualty to everyone else's vanity, jealousy, and selfishness. I feel like we're supposed to find it tragic but it doesn't hit. It's a meaningless and undignified end to a character that was given no agency over her own life or her death.

[lsunstreakerl]

Seconding the matching tattoo ask but except of in darkbull in SH and done in a safe environment

900 words for you, a little Search History slice of life :)

Daniel is blinking at him. Max stares at him over the table, their plates empty in front of them at the restaurant.

"Max. Do you seriously think I would have this many if the pain was anything like a car crash?"

Max wrinkles his nose.

"You do not need to make fun of me Daniel. I am of course just wondering."

Daniel rolls his eyes, bumping their feet together under the table.

"You'll barely notice it, I promise. Honestly, it's kind of impressive you haven't ended up with one already, considering how much you partied."

Max had almost gotten a stick and poke at one of Marc's parties in Catalonia, but thank god for Bezzecchi, who'd talked him out of it.

Granted, he'd then gone and sat right where Max had been planning on sitting and gotten his own, but-

Those guys are odd as a default.

Max also has zero intention of letting Daniel know about that, because it means admitting he was at a Catalonia party, which means inadvertently admitting to about fifty other things that happen at those parties.

He'll spare himself the embarrassment.

"What were you thinking of? You weren't exactly very clear in your text, mate."

Max lights up, feels a smile pulling at his mouth.

"I was thinking about a marigold flower, yes? Up my forearm- here, I worked out a sketch with the artist-"

He pulls the photo up on his phone. It's two orange Marigold plants- one has three leaves on one side of the stem, with three leaves on the other. The second has one leaf on one side, six on the other. Max had worried it would look unbalanced, but the way the artist had twined the flowers together- it still looks natural.

Daniel's face does that weird thing where he really wants to hug Max but isn't sure if he's allowed.

"They grow up so fast- and you two are nauseatingly cute, by the way."

"Shut up."

Max pockets his phone again, heart buzzing in his chest. He's excited about it- had never considered getting tattoos before, never really had anything so world-encompassing that he felt the need to ink it into his skin.

Charles, though.

He's worth it.

------

"Okay, but would it hurt more or less than your hair transplant- ow, why the fuck did you kick me?"

Pierre scowls at him.

"Say it a little louder next time, I don't think the people in the freezer section could hear you."

Charles turns his nose up as he inspects a bell pepper.

"I'm just wondering."

"That one is shit- get the one next to it, it'll be good longer."

Charles frowns.

"How can you tell? Also, what if I want to make it tonight? Max will not tell me where his is going, so I have no idea-"

Pierre leans over to take the pepper from Charles, setting it back in the stand and grabbing the other that he'd pointed out.

"The color- if you are not careful I will have Esteban give you the fruits and vegetables presentation. We both know you aren't cooking anything tonight, don't be stupid- and why does it matter where Max's goes? Pick what you like for you."

Charles dutifully takes the pepper, dropping it into the basket.

"I think between my shoulders? Or maybe my sternum, I cannot decide."

Pierre makes a face.

"Both of those would hurt."

Charles stares at him.

"I think crashing a Formula 1 car hurts worse, so I am not worried about my pain tolerance, Pierre."

He grabs an orange.

"I just wonder where he would like it better."

Pierre sighs, long and drawn out- exhausted enough that a nearby shopper looks at them weird. At least- Charles assumes that's why they're being stared at. That they're both still in their race suits has nothing to do with it.

"That is also a shit orange, Charles. I'm going to make Esteban give you the speech, and you're going to take notes, yes?"

"I thought it was a nice orange."

------

"I find it hard to believe you two need this much moral support."

Oscar's voice is dry where he's squished next to Fred in a corner of the tattoo shop. Pierre snorts, not even looking up from his phone.

"I won't speak for Max, but Charles is afraid of needles."

Max's head whips over to Charles.

"You did not mention that?"

"Thanks, Pierre. I am not that scared of them, I just don't like them. It is worth it for you, Max."

Arthur makes a disbelieving hum from another corner, but it's cut off with a strangled grunt as Logan elbows him in the stomach.

Daniel laughs from where he's sitting on an unused countertop.

"Well, I'm happy to hold whoever's hand needs it. And by that I definitely mean Max, no way he doesn't cry."

Max balls up a paper towel to throw at him, but it isn't quite dense enough, floats to the ground between them.

Charles bites his lip not to laugh.

"Don't be a asshole Danny, you said it wasn't going to hurt-"

"So maybe I stretched the truth a bit-"

------

The tattoo artist lifts the gun off, carefully wiping at Max's forearm.

"What do you think?"

"Oh wow- That is much nicer than the stick and poke Bez got."

Charles chokes on his water- they'd finished the morning glory between his shoulders a little bit earlier, and he's been watching the work on Max's since then.

"Sorry, what-"

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

A/N: I was asked for more, so I am attempting. I’ve never written anything like this. I just love the idea of dad bod Logan…or muscular, fit body of Logan’s with a tummy or a decent gut. It’d be cute. Don’t judge me.

One evening when the guys returned from a merc job, Logan goes to the bedroom to get a change of clothes while still in his suit. He can wear an outfit under it rather comfortably but this time, he noticed his suit was tight in the middle. He went into the bathroom and looked at his profile where he got his confirmation that he had a tummy. He began to strip out of his suit and kept checking himself out in the mirror, not liking what he finds. Once he pulls off his tank top, he sees that it isn’t really a gut, just pudge. Just a layer of fat on his otherwise muscular form from eating three meals a day. He wonders if he should go back to alcohol and one meal a day. He shook his head since he feels better, feels healthier, and can tell what he is doing is good for him. He has more energy and much better alertness but he doesn’t like the pooch at all. He decides to go back to one meal a day while keeping the alcohol down and just making sure to drink water instead. He can do this.

What Logan doesn’t expect when he makes this decision is how Wade acts.

Three days later after Logan has returned to eating one meal a day, Wade immediately notices the change and doesn’t like it. By the second day, he decides to eat out at places he knows Logan likes but the man refuses saying he isn’t hungry. Wade knows he is lying. The man eats like him due to maintaining his healing factor.

At day three, Wade decides to pull out the stops, he wakes early to go to that bakery Logan loves their pastry to get him a dozen with half of it solely for Logan. The man glares at Wade over his black coffee and again claims he isn’t hungry.

Now, it is the morning of day four and Logan is having his black coffee and reading the newspaper.

“So, grandpa, how’s the crossword going?” Wade asks.

Logan sips his coffee and grunts. He sets the cup down and turns the page.

“Got the funnies? I’d love to see what that stupid orange cat is doing to Jon today. “ Wade sips his khaki color coffee full of sugar and creamer.

“No, this doesn’t have funnies,” Logan explains.

“Damn. I was hoping to see what that Valiant knight was up to too. Any sudoku?” Wade pokes again.

Logan quietly rumbles as he flips through the pages and removes the pages the sudoku is on before nearly slamming it down in front of Wade. “Is there anything else you need, princess, before I go back to quietly reading the paper?”

“Actually, yes,” confirms Wade.

Logan sets the paper down and gives Wade his undivided attention.

“Why aren’t you eat? You barely have one meal a day. What changed, peanut?” Wade’s eyes are lidded and he’s frowning. Logan can smell his genuine concern. Not wanting to admit the worry, as superficial as it may sound, he shrugs. “Just haven’t been hungry for some reason.”

“I smell bullshit, Wolvie, and you know it,” argues Wade. “I don’t understand why you’d limit yourself when you’re looking great.” Logan snorts at that but Wade continues, “You seem to have more energy, are seemingly happier, and haven’t even wanted to drink more than a few beers daily. I mean, you’ve been going on jobs with me which is always a blast when you come. What could be so important that you cut back on food of all things?”

Logan mumbles an answer that Wade doesn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, honey badger, could you say that for the whole class to hear?” Wade pushes.

“My suit’s tight,” Logan barely whispers as his ears pinken.

“Your suit’s tight?” Wade’s eyes incredulously asks. Logan refuses to make eye contact and stares at the table.

“Yeah, ok?! I need to lose some weight,” Logan rumbles angrily.

Wade leans back and relaxes his body, trying to seem as non-threatening to the upset beastly of the man who has his heart. “I do sew, Logan. Why don’t you let me help you out with this?”

Logan snorts and shakes his head. “Even I know letting clothes out, let alone this suit, is challenging without matching…everything,” he acknowledges. Wade is surprised Logan understands the complexities of sewing.

“True, but I know how to get matching material and where ,” Wade grins, haughtily.

Tag: @asgardiansofthegalaxyvol3

Logan moving in with Wade and gaining weight because not only is he eating three square meals a day, but he also picked up baking because both Al and Wade have a sweet tooth, and of course the sweets are there, he’s going to eat them too. But now he’s getting kind of chubby. Which isn’t a problem really. He looks healthier than he has in decades. Except…

Wade stopped flirting with him. Straight up just stopped. And yeah Logan’s been ignoring it right along because he knows Wade isn’t actually serious about it, but it was still kind of nice to be wanted. Especially since he came from a reality where he was literally the most hated man alive. And of course now he has actual feelings for Wade, he wants the option to be there.

So he decides to not only start going to the gym but also to stop eating. And of course Wade notices and has to sit him down and ask what’s up, he’s been super healthy lately why is he changing that

And Logan can’t admit why he’s doing it so he deflects. “So going to the gym isn’t healthy?”

“You practically live there now. You’re a certified gym rat. You’re overworked and underfed. THAT isn’t healthy.”

And they go back and forth until Logan finally admits it’s because he gained weight and doesn’t feel attractive anymore. “Hell, you don’t even flirt with me anymore and I’ve seen you hit on inanimate objects before.”

And Wade stares at him for like 10 full seconds before he busts out laughing, like genuinely knee slapping chuckle fest because, “You think I stopped flirting with you because I’m shallow??? You honestly think I look like a burn victims even uglier ball sack and I’m being picky with how someone else looks?”

Logan tries to shrug it off with a “Everyone has preferences.”

“Trust me, Peanut, it isn’t that.”

“So then what is it?”

And now it’s Wade’s turn to be defensive until he realizes their conversation is just going in circles and Logan won’t stop destroying his body until he comes clean. So he has to stare at the wall as he tells Logan that it isn’t that he’s not attracted to Logan’s body anymore, it’s that he’s hyper attracted to it now, that he looks so healthy, so well fed, so inadvertently loved, and that it’s a reminder of all the domesticity of their situation that he’s actually fallen in love and can’t trust himself to casually flirt with Logan anymore because he’s genuinely afraid he’s going to do something and ruin their friendship now.

And they make out sloppy style and confess their love to each other of course

[ryoko-loves-roses]

Mind Your Business!

Lee!Jun-Ho + Ler!In-Ho

A/N: Ok so - I did change a tiny thing - I am now going to state the lee and ler for the fanfics i write like i did above ^^. After this is successfully posted, I'm going to edit the other fanfics! ANYWAY - This was extremely fun to write -! I hope the characters weren't too OOC. Ily guys <3 Summary : After weeks of In-Ho avoiding phone calls, and talking to his loved ones in general, Jun-Ho decided to go the extra measure and find out what's been bothering his older brother... but something surprising happens... ═════════════════════════════════════════ Months ago, In-Ho’s wife who he loved dearly was diagnosed with a deadly disease. Hospital bills stacked on top of eachother in his tiny dorm, and with no way to pay for his wife’s treatment, he began to distance himself from reality, including the people he once held close - which included his youngest brother, Hwang Jun-Ho. They were 16 years apart, which one could say was a long age gap. Surprisingly, the two had been close since Jun-Ho was a child, so when In-Ho stopped talking to him, it struck a nerve. When Jun-Ho was younger, he was also diagnosed with an illness, meaning he could only be saved if he had a proper kidney donor. In that time of need, In-Ho stepped up. If he never did what he did, Jun-Ho wouldn’t be alive today. God - Jun-Ho knew this, and it was eating him alive. He truly thought that if he didn’t donate his kidney, he could pay for his wife’s surgery by selling it. This little fact made Jun-Ho feel a tiny bit guilty. - Hwang In-Ho is 38, meaning Jun-Ho is 22 - One year before In-Ho learned about the games.

- The lights were off in In-Ho’s apartment. Not because he hasn’t paid the bill, but by choice. He let out a tired sigh as he sat on his well-made bed. He was stuck and didn’t know what to do. He hid his face in his hands, thinking about his wife, who was currently still at the hospital, and the fact that he hadn’t answered his phone in weeks. He just didn’t have the energy. The man was too deep in thought to hear the doorbell ring as well - and who was on the other side of the door? Well - Jun-Ho let out a sigh, crossing his arms impatiently. He stood there for a few more seconds before muttering something under his breath and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a spare key that his brother gave him for ‘emergencies’ “Goddamnit, In-Ho …” He quickly unlocked the door, opened it, and walked in, a worried look on his usual stoic face. Jun-Ho really didn’t want to enter his older brother’s dorm like this, but he had no other choice - He gently opened the door- “In-Ho?” He called out softly, which was a large contrast to his usual stoic tone. In-Ho froze, immediately standing up from the bed, right in tune to when Jun-Ho opened the bedroom door. “Jun-Ho - What the hell are you doing here..?” His tone was strict, as well as his face. There was a reason In-Ho wasn’t answering his phone, and Jun-Ho knew that reason all too well. Jun-Ho just stood at the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he grew irritated.* “You haven’t answered my calls, hyung. I got worried.” The younger male admitted, crossing his arms as he stared at his older brother. You know, despite being the older one, In-Ho was shorter than Jun-Ho by only one inch, which was irritating to say the least - but he didn’t mention it. In-Ho let out an irritated sigh. “There was a reason I didn’t answer. I wanted to be left alone.” Jun-Ho raised an eyebrow. “To sulk? Alone? You should’ve known I wouldn’t let you do that -” It was true - when Jun-Ho was growing up, he was practically attached to In-Ho’s hip. You’d think that the big age gap would put a space in between them, but no. In-Ho was basically the boy’s idol growing up. He wanted to be like his big brother. In-Ho stared at Jun-Ho for just a moment, his expression softening as he sighed. “Yeah. Should’ve known.” *He said sarcastically, sitting back on the bed, which this time, Jun-Ho decided to join him; sitting beside him.

“Tell me what happened.” Jun-Ho blurted out suddenly. He knew about In-Ho’s wife, but he did not know about the financial struggles. “Why haven’t you visited mom and I? You wanna know how worried we both were !!?” As Jun-Ho blabbered on and on, In-Ho let out a frustrating sigh, then - something clicked. Keeping his amusement in checked to not look suspicious, he replied. “You really don’t know how to mind your own business, huh?” As he said that, Jun-Ho raised an eyebrow, about to retaliate with a response, but froze when he felt that familiar sensation of a brotherly hand on his side - “Wait - Hyung… Hyung nOO-” Jun-Ho’s sentence trailed off with a squeak as he felt In-Ho’s fingers dig into his sides, and as much as In-Ho didn’t want to admit it, he missed this. He smiled when those foreign but familiar childish giggles flowed out of his brother like running water. In-Ho then added his other hand, - Now, both of Jun-Ho’s sides were getting attacked with ten fingers. He shrieked, trying to curl up on himself, but that one action just made In-Ho chuckle deeply. “You should know by now that won’t work…” He teased, his usual stoic tone vanishing as a teasy tone replaced it. “Hyuuhuhung - PleheHEHEHehase-!” Jun-Ho giggled and squeaked with every dig, his feet drumming on the dorm floor as he tried to kick, but it was useless. Despite being in the police academy, he was still a victim to his brother’s fond tickles. “Please what, little brother?” In-Ho taunted, managing to lock an arm around Jun-Ho, effectively holding him in place as he drilled both of his thumbs into Jun-Ho’s armpits. He fucking screamed. “FUHUHUUCK-! NOHOHOHOO!!” Jun-Ho squealed out, throwing his head back and kicking wildly, but he knew he wasn’t getting out of his brother’s hold anytime soon - In-Ho’s smirk widened, a bit brotherly sadisticness taking a toll as he tickled his younger brother. “Language, Jun-Ho.” He scolded playfully, feigning sterness as he drilled his thumbs deeper, knowing damn well this one spot got Jun-Ho excruciatingly bad. “IHIIHIm SOHOOHORryEHEe-! IHIihi WOHOOHNT AHAHAHASK ANYMOHOHOORE!!” As Jun-Ho apologized through his cackles, In-Ho let out another low chuckle. “Apologizing already? May I say brother… I think you got more ticklish the last time I saw you.” He taunted, not only continuing, but deciding to nuzzle his face into Jun-Ho’s neck, which In-Ho’s stubble managed to tickle the younger a lot more than if In-Ho’s face was cleanly shaved. Jun-Ho screeched with a new wave of cackles and squeals of laughter as In-Ho doubled down on the tickling. God - In-Ho knew he should stop, but to be honest - he needed this. They both do.

Currently, Jun-Ho was trapped in In-Ho’s hold, basically snuggled up against him as the older man brutally taunted him, nuzzling his stubbly face deeper into Jun-Ho’s neck, and the excruciating fact was that even if Jun-Ho wanted to scrunch up his neck, he couldn’t - cause In-Ho’s head was in the way, giving him the tickles of a lifetime. “PLEhEHEa- GHAhAA -” Every time Jun-Ho tried to beg, he would burst into hysterical squeals and pleads, which In-Ho only smirked at. The 22 year old was now a puddle of extreme embarrassment and ticklishness; his brother wouldn’t have it any other way. “I can’t hear you, Jun-Ho… you’ll have to speak louder.” The older man taunted, smirking as Jun-Ho’s blush deepened by several shades of red. “PLE - PELehEHEASe-! HYUUHUHNG-!” God - What could be more amusing than watching a stoic, serious cop lose his shit? Nothing, i’ll tell ya. In-Ho let out another deep chuckle, deciding to blow a deep, ticklish raspberry on Jun-Ho’s vulnerable neck, making him scream with laughter. Hah… it was surprising the neighbors didn’t hear him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, In-Ho relented, retracting his hands and letting the younger man sit up. Jun-Ho laid idly in his spot for a bit as he tried to gather his breath, but once he finally caught it, he glared at In-Ho.* “Dick.” Of course… the first word to come out of Jun-Ho’s mouth would be an insult. In-Ho rolled his eyes, the playfulness and tenderness of the situation never leaving his face. “I can start again, you know.” At that, Jun-Ho sat up - “Nonono - I’m good -!” Jun-Ho sputtered out, dusting his formal attire off with his hands. In-Ho’s smirk turned into a fond smile, reaching a hand out, and playfully ruffling Jun-Ho’s hair, which made the younger groan. “Seriously, though.” In-Ho began to speak. “Don’t worry about me, namdongsaeng. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” As much as Jun-Ho wanted to believe his older brother’s statement, he couldn’t help but have a bit of worry. “I don’t want you to do anything reckless, hyung…” 

It was clear that the love the brothers had for eachother was real, and that it could never be broken. Nonetheless, Jun-Ho didn’t even think about it when he hugged his older brother, holding him firmly in his arms. In-Ho’s eyes widened for a brief moment, surprised at the action, but then relaxed, deciding to hug his younger brother back. “I won’t be reckless… not when I have you breathing down my neck.” In-Ho joked, which earned a light chuckle from Jun-Ho as he pulled away from the hug. “Damn right.” As much as In-Ho hated to admit it…. He was glad Jun-Ho barged in uninvited.

[heazueken]

Letting Go

*ೃ༄ summary: Jayce and Viktor have their part 2

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, oral sex, vaginal sex, ftm!viktor, knotting

pairing(s): Viktor/Jayce

w/c; 12.2k

a/n: i went a littleee overboard with this part 2 request of cured... did not mean to make it this long but! here we are! enjoy anon and everyone else! part 1 for those who didnt read :3

Translation list for Viktor:

Přesně tam - right there

Kurva - fuck

“Jayce, would you mind joining me later tonight in my chambers for uh…part two, if you will?”

The sentence played over and over in Jayce’s head like a broken record and he’s coming up on hour six of his work day. Viktor is still next to him, goggles on, focused and taking every few seconds to scribble down some runes and speak to himself quietly. He’s engrossed in his work and hasn’t spoken a single word to his vastayan partner in Gods know how long. Jayce is storming with more thoughts of nefarious things he could do to him, meanwhile Viktor sits there, earnestly working without so much as a glance towards the man next to him. Clearly he hadn’t been as affected by the events that transpired that morning.

Jayce had him on this very table just hours ago, fucking into him deeply, falling into the temptation of having Viktor all to himself and claiming him. When he glances over to Viktor he can’t help but be aware of the knowledge that under the clothing, there’s marks he left on his partner. It sends a shiver down his spine and he has to pull on the collar of his dress shirt to relieve the tightness of his tie around his neck. They’d been silent for so long that Jayce was too afraid to break it.

“Right, so, Viktor? When you said go to your place for part two did you really mean that? We have three more hours left and I just thought maybe we should go relieve some stress…” 

Well, that would just sound stupid and needy if he said that out loud. Plus, Viktor was never the type to leave his work ever. It’s Jayce who literally had to force him sometimes to go back to his apartment because he was not going to walk back into their lab to see the man slumped over a table and drooling on their research papers again (yes, Viktor has done that so many times now it was starting to be a daily thing). Jayce was hoping for once he could convince Viktor to sleep in his own bed tonight, he was only worried about his well-being after all.

Who is he kidding?

He wants Viktor on his back, wants to see him spread his legs and expose himself for Jayce. He wants to hold him down and fuck him like he’s never been before and hear his name fall from his partners voice in that soft, melodic tone. He wants to make him his, bite him and leave a scar that tells people he’s the property of Jayce Talis. He needs Viktor to know just how badly he wants him, his body calls to him like a moth to a flame and he doesn’t give a damn for getting burned because for Viktor it was worth it. Anything was worth fighting for when it came to his lab partner.

Jayce’s ears perk when he hears the grating sound of Viktor’s chair pushing away from the desk. He glances over to sneak a peek at him. He’s taken off his goggles, his jaw opening to release a yawn as he raises his arms above his head to stretch. Jayce can see just the edge of a hickey he left earlier on Viktor’s neck and it’s like something within him crawls its way forehead to the forefront of his mind.

Mine. All mine. 

Jayce has always been good at holding back the more undomesticated part of himself. It helped that there weren't many other vastayans in Piltover, or the fact that he didn’t really take any notice to anyone romantically. There was Mel Medarda, but that had faded so quickly he could barely remember the scent of her or why he had been so infatuated in the first place.

But Viktor…there was something about Viktor that made it so fucking difficult for Jayce to hold back. He’s almost scared of himself when he thinks back to that morning and the things he did to him. It wasn’t good for him to let himself be the beast that stirred inside him— that’s what he’s always thought. He had never truly let himself freely explore the animal side to him before, and Viktor had the makings to completely rewire his brain and bring forth the very monster he’d thought he conquered.

“You’re stiff as a board, Jayce. What’s with you?” Viktor’s creaky voice breaks his train of thought, and he looks to his partner who’s looking up at him with slight concern. Had he been standing here behind Viktor for that long for it to be weird? Oh, yes he had. He takes a step back and laughs awkwardly, his tail tucking between his legs slightly, the other taking notice with a glance downward before flickering back up to his face.

“Sorry, I— uh— lost in thought, I think.” 

He’d gotten a taste— no, not a taste— a mouthful of Viktor and he’s just supposed to act like that wasn’t a life altering experience? How could he go about the rest of his day normally when the man he had buried himself inside of sits in front of him like that didn’t happen and be completely normal about it?! Maybe Viktor just had more experience, maybe he just didn’t reciprocate the same intensity of feelings as Jayce did.

“You think…” Viktor trails, still looking at him like he’s hiding something from the older one. He points his chin in his direction. “What are you doing just lurking behind me?” 

“Nothing! Really! I was just…thinking…” He can’t stop himself from glancing back over to the table again and seeing Viktor’s naked figure laying there like he had been. Basking in the sunlight that drew its way into the room and highlighting the wonderful curves and moles riddled across his skin. Jayce practically begins to drool at the thought of it again. He doesn’t notice Viktor setting his goggles down and scooting out of his chair to get up. 

“I’m tired,” He announces, Jayce once again broken out of his trance just in time to see Viktor brush past him. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and limps towards his cane. “Perhaps we should call it a day, hm?”

Jayce stares at the back of Viktor’s hunched over figure as he begins organizing a few stacks of paper and scraps of metal and gears that have yet to be sorted by size and usage. Something kicks within his brain, seeing him tired, drained, and messy with his wavy hair poking this way and that after hours of his delicate fingers running through it, setting Jayce in that classic “helper” mode no one ever needed from him.

“Viktor,” he gently says, and it sounds like warm honey on the other's ears, Viktor immediately turning to look at him. There’s a sparkle in his eyes like finally, finally Jayce is noticing him. 

“Uh,” Jayce falters, stopping himself from taking a further step towards his partner, but holding his hand out like he’s reaching for him. “I just—I wanted to—“ How is he supposed to even begin what he’s been ruminating all day? Walking Viktor back home, inviting himself into his apartment, helping him get undressed, bathing him, feeding him, laying with him, kissing him, feeling him up and spreading his legs and burying his—

“Sorry. Forget it.” He lowers his arm and his ears lay back into his hair completely hiding them from view. He ducks his chin into his chest and screws his eyes shut.

He doesn’t want to assume anything, doesn’t want to pressure or push too much. He knows they had just been close in the most intimate way possible and yet he couldn’t get himself to ask Viktor if he truly meant what he had said; “Jayce, would you mind joining me later tonight in my chambers for uh…part two, if you will?”

That had to be a joke, right?

Viktor’s jaw clenches and Jayce can feel the tension rise in the room. He can barely meet the older one’s stare but catches a glimpse of the harsh pain and disappointment that flashes across his eyes before he parts his lips to say something.

“Okay, well, I’ll be seeing you…whenever, I suppose.” He grabs his coat and only the sound of his shoes and cane clicking on the floor can be heard. Jayce waits until the sound finally fades to release his breath and let his tense shoulders fall.

He looks over to the clock and sees they still had half an hour before they were going to close up shop and head out for the night. He hangs his head in shame feeling like he’d done everything wrong, slumping into the chair Viktor had just been in. It’s still warm from his body heat and he can still smell his sweet scent. Jayce stuffs his face into his hands and mourns what could have been a good night. 

Later that week Viktor completely disappeared. On the first day Jayce wasn’t too worried, he was used to this sort of thing and Viktor never stayed away long enough for him to really grow concerned. But when he spoke to Sky on the sixth day his mild anxiety turned into full blown panic. 

“Hey, uh, Sky?” He starts as he hunches over some of Viktor's lab journals and deciphers the runes. Sky turns to him with files in her arms.

“Y-yes?” He rarely ever speaks to her, especially lately and since— well…what had now happened a week ago. 

His ear twitches as he forms his questions. “You…hang out with Viktor outside the lab, right?”

He doesn’t see it but Sky is perplexed by the question, her brows furrowing as she places her thumb and forefinger on her chin. 

“I mean,” she laughs awkwardly in a way where Jayce can practically see the blush on her face without even turning towards her. “Sometimes? He’s only asked me for some drinks like twice and every time he goes way too overboard and I have to take him back home.” Her words slow as she speaks, like shame creeping up on her. They’re both quiet for a little.

“He talks about you when he’s drunk…” She admits like she hadn’t wanted to say it and he knows why. It was clear to her that Viktor had no interest in her and he was probably just asking her to come along because who else would? 

Jayce’s ears perk and that’s when he finally tears himself from decoding to look over his shoulder at her. 

“What?”

Sky stands there and hunches her shoulders inward, her feet drawing close together and ducking her head just slightly to make herself look smaller. Like if she could, she would disappear right now instead of having to admit that the man she loved did not love her back.

“He only ever talks about you when he gets really drunk. Like—like last time, he went on and on about you and how…how much he likes you.”

A beat. Jayce has to take in the information and his tail swats to the right a few times, the gears in his mind beginning to turn and creak.

“That can’t be.” 

“Well, you asked.” Sky replies with a short tone, pushing her glasses over the bridge of her nose and making her way to the door. “I better go now. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Wait—“ Jayce has more questions and reaches out to stop her, but Sky is already slamming the door shut, her footsteps fading down the hall in quick succession. He lets out a loud sigh and slams Viktor’s journal shut. He runs his claws through his hair, vigorously messing up its clean cut look and ruffling it in frustration. What the hell was happening?

It’s the next day when Viktor once again doesn't show up that he finally decides to take action. Jayce had been all alone for a full week now, barely making any progress with their new project they’ve been tweaking for the upcoming Progress Day. The biggest day of their career and Viktor has still been abandoning his duties as Jayce’s partner!

He should be furious, he should be marching to his apartment and demanding an explanation— and if he’s not home, then he would have to storm around Piltover in hopes of finding him. Turn every stone in the Undercity to find his partner. He should grab him by the collar of his shirt and force him back to the lab. But Jayce isn’t capable of that. He’s not mad at Viktor in the slightest, he blames himself for it all. He gave in and put his friend in a predicament— it’s his fault something came between the two of them. He never meant for that to happen.

He needs to see Viktor.

It’s 7:30PM and Jayce is at Viktor’s apartment door. 

The welcome sign he had made for him still hangs outside and he smiles at it warmly. Viktor had mentioned once that he never had much of anything that gave his home a comforting feeling (perhaps that’s why he rarely ever went home after work and spent his endless nights in the lab). Jayce had listened intently and began his metalworking. He spent hours on many things; first— the welcome sign and he made a butterfly out of different colored metals that sits reverently on the ‘W’ of Welcome. Second— a pair of bookends. Viktor had mentioned his endless piles of books, journals and memoirs. Jayce thought it would be a good idea to make a few pairs of book ends in order to keep his books safe and secure. Viktor had mentioned his favorite bird to be a mourning dove and Jayce took that as inspiration for his hand crafted gift. Two mourning doves now frame and protect his precious readings. And finally the third— Jayce had meltworked a figure of one of Viktor’s childhood friends that he found in the Undercity one day; An abandoned, worn down golem that he had called Blitzcrank. He went off on a whole tangent once about the way he found it as a child, how he often dreamed of piecing it back together, making it new and finding some utilization for it to help the people of the Undercity. Jayce discovered a newfound admiration for Viktor that day and he spent two whole days perfecting a mini figure of the golem and gave it to his friend on his birthday.

He knocks a couple times and no answer. He waits the appropriate amount of time that he assumes it would take for Viktor to get to the door before he knocks again. Still no answer.

Jayce isn’t the type to give up that easily but if Viktor wasn’t answering him, well, he’d just have to pack it up and try again tomorrow. Worry nags at the back of his mind and he tries not to think of all the terrible things that could have happened to his friend during their— are they fighting? Quarrel isn’t the right word…perhaps avoidantness? Whatever this thing was. He tries to reassure himself that Viktor is more than capable by himself and Jayce just needs to back off and give him room to breathe for a moment. He’ll come back when he’s ready.

He heads back to his own apartment. Now at 8:13PM he gets his keys out in anticipation to get into his home when he sees a familiar figure standing at his door.

Viktor stands there, slumped with his forehead on the door. His mouth is moving and mumbling something while he tries to jam his key into Jayce’s lock. What is he doing? Jayce begins to make his way to him quickly. His tail begins swaying back and forth with hope. 

“Viktor!” He exclaims and his friend slowly turns to look at him. He looks…Jayce doesn’t want to say terrible but he’s never seen him so disheveled in such a way where he almost didn’t even recognize the man he spends most of his waking hours with. 

“Are you okay? What are you doing here?” His hand reaches out as a slew of questions pour out of him.

His hair is the messiest he’s seen it, chunks cling together in a greasy mess like he hasn’t washed his hair in days, his eyes are barely open and they’re bloodshot, purple smears across his lower eyelids in proof of his sleepless nights. His cheeks are sunken in, he looks ghostly pale and barely even registers Jayce and has to lean in close to get a good look at who’s speaking to him before he can reply. Jayce smells it then— the alcohol imbuing his nostrils, soaking into the roof of his mouth and down his throat. He can’t stop the scrunch of his face at the smell. He’s drunker than ever before.

“Jayce? What are you doing at my apartment?” His accent gets thicker the more he’s drunk— Jayce notices but can’t dwell on it for too long because what?

“Your apartment? Vik, this is my apartment. You’re sticking your key into a lock that doesn’t even fit.” He gestures to the uncoordinated way Viktor is lazily jamming his key over and over into Jayce’s doorknob. He looks down at what he’s doing and slowly pulls his hand away. 

“I…I hadn’t realized I walked all the way over here…I’ll…I…” He stuffs his key into his pocket and stumbles backward from the door to give himself enough room to turn towards Jayce. He trips on his own cane in the process, his right foot bumping into it and he releases a small yelp as he loses his footing.

Before he can succumb to the hard pavement below, Jayce’s quick reflexes catch him just in time. The cane falls with a metallic clang and it echoes through the corridors of doors. Jayce’s strong arm hooks under Viktor’s shoulders, the other wraps around the front of his torso and his large hand wraps around the entirety of his bicep. The adrenaline coursing through him isn’t enough to sober him up but his eyes widen as he locks eyes with his Vastaya partner.

“Careful!” Jayce exclaims. “My Gods, you scared me half to death.” He wants to ask him why he’s standing at his doorstep, why he’s drunk and alone, why his clothes look like he’s been wearing them for at least three days and why he looks so sad.

“C’mon,” He helps him back to his feet and pats his back gently. “Just come inside, let me help you.”

He lets Viktor step out of the safety of his arm and he shakes his head. “No, I…I shouldn’t. I don’t need you babying me like—“

“Viktor, you almost just bashed your head in outside of my place. I’m not letting you leave without at least sobering up a little.” He reaches back out and grabs his shoulder this time and pulls him to his side. He unlocks his door and pushes it open, letting Viktor go in first.

He’s slow to enter his apartment. They didn’t frequent each other's places often, he could count on one hand how many times he’s stepped inside Jayce’s home— being drunk, though, was a first. 

Jayce’s home is warm. Incredibly warm and he wonders how he could keep his place so fucking hot. He has carpets on wooden floor boards and Jayce insists he take his shoes off before he steps over the threshold of the step that leads into his living room. His socked feet pat over soft carpet and Jayce leads him to the brown cotton couch where he sits him down. Viktor knows Jayce always has a pot of tea ready to be boiled every time he comes home. He’s expecting to be handed a cup of warm tea but when his vastaya friend comes back with two cups he’s wondering what the contents are.

“Ice water,” It’s like he’s read his mind. He lifts his left hand holding the water and he hears the clink of the ice hitting the walls of ceramic. He sets it down at the coffee table in front of Viktor and then sets the other one down. “Coffee, with extra sugar and cream.” He turns the handle towards him.

Jayce is really good at remembering what people like and him remembering something as simple as Viktor liking his coffee extra sweet tugs at his heart strings and he feels sick. His heart rises to his throat and becomes frozen solid.

“Thanks,” he chokes and gently reaches for the cup of coffee first. It’s perfect and the warmth of the drink soothes the frozen heart in his throat, it begins to thaw almost immediately and he breathes once more. His mind is still muddled and his vision isn’t all there but he feels the dip in weight on the couch beside him. He turns to see Jayce sitting next to him.

“Make sure you drink the water, too.” His voice feels millions of miles away in Viktor’s ears but he knows he’s only a foot away from him. His vision blurs and he sees three pairs of Jayce’s ears, they turn towards him, erect and alert to any sound or word that comes from him. His tail is fluffy and makes a makeshift wall between their thighs, stopping them from touching. In his inebriated state, Viktor lays his hand over it and gently pets it.

Jayce, unsure of what to do, lets him continue his petting. It feels good, if he’s being honest and he’s embarrassed with himself over it. 

“Soft,” Viktor mumbles. It feels like the softest material known to man, he could sit here and pet it for hours. The other smiles gently and places his large fingers around his wrist, he lifts his arm to stop him.

“Drink, Viktor. You need to shower.”

Reluctantly, he takes large gulps of water and takes a few more shy sips of his caramel colored coffee.

Jayce is too timorous to begin asking why Viktor had been so avoidant for the past week and he decides to kick it into helper mode because taking care of his friend is more important than figuring out the reason for some quarrel of theirs. It’s easy for him to set aside any ill feelings and focus on the wellbeing of his drunk lab partner. He reaches over to pat Viktor’s leg.

“You well enough to shower by yourself?”

It finally registers in Viktor’s brain.

“Shower? Where? Here?” He points downwards, eyebrows hitched up on his forehead and eyes wide. Jayce gives him a firm nod and places a firm grip on his shoulder.

“You’re going to shower, drink more water and stay here for the night.” His cheeks immediately blush and Viktor’s shoulders shrug his hand off and he shakes his head. He begins to get up.

“Jayce, no, no, I’m not. I-I can’t do that— you…I know you’re just— oh, nevermind.” 

“Viktor,” He grips Viktor’s shoulder again and uses his animalistic strength to keep his ass snug on the couch. He feels bad using it but this is for his own good. “You’re drunk. You can’t go home like this and you clearly haven’t been caring for yourself this week!”

Viktor smacks his hand away instead and his brows furrow, his face contorting into one of anger.

“Quit pretending, will you?!”

Pretending?

“What?” Jayce is clueless.

“You barely even looked at me after we had sex! Barely spoke a word! You’re ashamed to be with me, admit it!”

Still clueless. “What?!” He says with more gusto. 

“Barely spoke a wo— ashamed? Me? Ashamed of you? I…I thought— how could you think that?”

Viktor can’t even look at him.

“After we…you barely spoke a word.”

“I was shy,” Jayce exclaims. “It had been awhile for me and…and you were… everything and when you invited me over I was waiting for you to mention it again and you never did!”

“Didn’t think I had to again!” Viktor spits out. 

Jayce, defeated, lets his head drop. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I just got overwhelmed and…and I guess I didn’t realize I had hurt you.”

There’s a long silence and Viktor sighs.

“No. It was me. I left you and avoided you for a week.” He rubs his thumb over his brow bone and contemplates his next few words.

“I’m sorry, Jayce. I guess I was scared you felt indifferent after our coming together.”

“I’d never. I…I had been thinking about it all week, actually.” He chuckles awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and daring to look back at his friend. They look to one another, cheeks blushing red and nervous clammy hands in their own laps. Viktor gives him a knowing smirk.

“Really?” His ears are flushed red from the alcohol and they only increase in intensity at the implication of Jayce’s words.

“Really.” He confirms. He thinks for a moment, Viktor is in his house right now. He’s sitting a foot from him, he might even spend the night and they could…No! He’s in no state!

“You need to shower!”

Viktor’s still inebriated mind jumbles and he was almost too caught up in the thoughts of Jayce taking him right on this couch to realize how badly he stinks after wallowing in his own misery for 7 days. He has to agree.

“Right. Sorry. Show me where?”

Jayce leads him to the bathroom and he even grabs a pair of his sweats and a shirt for Viktor to change into when he’s done.

He showers quickly, using Jayce’s shampoo in the process and it smells like cedar and mint and like Jayce. He thinks back to that morning in the lab and how deeply he was inside him that night. He could touch himself right in this very bathroom, rid himself of his arousal— but that was wrong wasn’t it? In Jayce’s home? It almost excites him further but he knows nothing could suffice except for his Jayce.

While Viktor is tormenting himself with ideas, Jayce is pacing his living room. His partner's scent is everywhere. It’s on the couch, on his clothes he wears, his hands, by the front door, it’s in his senses and it suffocates him. His sweet vanilla scent has taken over the glands inside him and something about it has his composure crumbling, his mouth waters and he’s ashamed to know he can feel himself grow hard in his pants. 

Being a vastaya has its perks, he can hear better, smell better, his reflexes are more refined than the average person, he has great balance due to his tail and his ancient senses can warn him of any nearby danger. 

But, there was one small problem and that was his libido.

Having animal-like attributes didn’t just mean his superior senses— it meant he had the sexual tendencies of an animal too. For a long time it was easy for Jayce to resist those urges, he had never found someone he felt compatible with to the point where he felt like…well, mating with them. But Viktor had changed all of that.

Having him in the man’s home, showering in his bathroom, wearing his clothes, sitting on his couch and drinking from his cups. It’s like a switch went off in Jayce’s brain and suddenly he was in full heat. He can’t say he’s ever felt this way about anyone and holding back these feelings are proving to be too difficult.

It only gets worse when Viktor steps out of the bathroom in Jayce’s clothes.

They practically swallow him whole. His shirt which has his high school crest on it is wrinkly and drapes over Viktor’s small shoulders like a sheet. His sweatpants are much too large and he has to grab a fistful of the fabric and hold it up so as to not expose himself right here in Jayce’s living room. His hair drips water and soaks into the shirt, discoloring it and he actually looks much fresher, like the life in his eyes finally came back and the heat of the water encouraged the blood flow through his cheeks. Or maybe he’s just blushing profusely— either way Jayce felt a sort of pride for being the one to help Viktor.

“Thank you,” is the first thing the older says. He pats his way closer to Jayce and can’t seem to make eye contact. Neither can the other. 

“I…I feel bad.” He admits and Jayce goes to ask why but Viktor continues. “I shouldn’t stay the night, Jayce.” He’s sobered up somewhat since his words aren’t slurring together anymore. 

“You can’t go home alone. I won’t let you.” He’s stern and it surprises both of them. Jayce’s back straightened and his hands curl into fists at his sides. He realizes his harsh tone almost immediately— he’s becoming too possessive again. He relaxes.

“I’m sorry. It’s just—“

“I get it.”

It’s quiet again. Both of them stand there awkwardly and Viktor shivers slightly at the water cooling in his hair. Not even the heat of Jayce’s home could diminish the inevitable shock of cold after stepping out of the shower soaking wet. Jayce notices this.

“Oh—! You must be cold!”

“Jayce, wait—“ He’s already gone into his bedroom and comes back with a large hoodie in his hand— another thing Viktor will be swallowed into. He can’t decline the offer now (not that he would be able to anyway.) “I really can’t stay.”

This crushes Jayce and it’s hard for him to not show it with the way his entire demeanor seems to shift. His body looks too heavy to carry all of a sudden, his tail curls between his legs and his ears turn downward with defeat. 

“I understand.” His ears perk up a little bit with an idea like a lightbulb shining over a cartoon character’s head. “I’m walking you home.”

Viktor takes a step backward and lets out a breathy laugh as he speaks, “That’s not necessary.” 

“No. It is.” It’s final. No arguing, no pushing back. Jayce knows what’s best and Viktor will not be able to have a choice in the matter. Something about his tone is enticing and excites the eldest in a way.

It’s a silent walk, much like most of their night and the palpable tension can be felt by the both of them like the fog that surrounds them as they round the next block to Viktor’s apartment. Viktor leans heavily on his cane, limping as his other hand clutches the waistband/fabric of Jayce’s borrowed sweatpants to keep them up. Jayce wonders how he managed to walk so far so drunk without tripping. Little does he know the amount of times Viktor had to pick himself back up because of  how often he stumbled over his own two feet in his drunken state. He’s much more sober now and there’s still a wobble in his step and his eyesight still isn’t all there but at least he’s not traveling the streets alone drunk anymore. He’s sober enough to be embarrassed that he walked all the way to Jayce’s apartment to be then escorted back to his own like some lost puppy.

It’s when they get to the door that Viktor suddenly feels his body start to give out. The events of the night have caught up with him and he leans his full weight into the door as he unlocks it. Jayce is preparing himself to catch him again if need be when he turns the doorknob but his partner’s got a good grip on the handle and uses it as a crutch.

He doesn’t usually flip the lights on but knowing his furry friend isn’t as familiar with the interior of his home, he does and he kicks off his shoes. Jayce, with politeness, sets his own by the door and steps further into his place.

The scent is the first thing he notices. Warmth, cider, cinnamon and that whiff you get of a new book you open for the first time. There’s hints of sweet vanilla coffee that he knows Viktor brewed just earlier that morning. It fills his chest with a rapture he can’t contain. It’s just so Viktor.

He’s pleased to notice the little figure golem he made right by the front door. It holds its fist into the air and Jayce can see Viktor has utilized it to hold his keys. He smiles towards it and his ears rotate towards the sound of his partner's voice.

“What’s got you so excited?” 

He tilts his head curiously. “Huh?” Viktor tilts his chin and his eyes drop to below Jayce’s waist.

“Your tail is wagging,” he laughs. Blush dusts both of their cheeks. He didn’t even realize it and he immediately stops the wagging then clears his throat.

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay. It’s cute.” 

He doesn’t know how to handle that comment despite knowing he was inside this man just a week ago. 

Viktor tells him to help himself to anything as he turns the corner into a hallway towards what he can only assume is his bedroom. Jayce does not follow but he stands at the entrance and notices that Viktor kept his bedroom door open.

Help himself to anything. He can’t assume that meant waltzing into his room, laying him down and burying his mouth into his cunt was considered anything even though that’s pretty much all he wants at the moment.

He turns towards Viktor’s living room to browse the bookshelves he has on display against his walls. They’re tucked into a corner and a dark red velvet chair sits with a small side table beside it. He notices the mug atop it with coffee staining the inner walls. His eyes trail over the wall of books and that’s where he notices the handmade bookends framing what he recognizes as the elders favorite books. He lets his tail wag freely knowing no one can see.

His eyes dart down to an open book on the seat and he barely takes in the contents before he’s letting them wander somewhere else— but wait— he does a double take and looks back down at the book.

A drawing is shown on the open page. A sketched drawing and color coded diagram of a species of a male vastaya lies on one of the pages. It’s Jayce’s species. Lines connect to body parts and point to a scientific word and Jayce’s eyes linger over a paragraph describing the workings of the body and how it’s different from the human body.

Then he glances to the next page.

Sex Anatomy of the Vastaya

A diagram of a penis is shown and Jayce’s cheeks burn hot like the fires of Ornn. It’s not like he isn’t familiar with what’s being shown! But this book is in Viktor’s apartment, open and on a seat which means he’s been reading it! Which means—

Jayce looks at the diagram. It shows the way a normal human penis becomes erect with a vastaya’s next to it. There’s one big difference between the two.

Vastaya’s penis’ become enlarged at around the middle point of the shaft. It looks sort of like a ball, like a hump and it becomes extremely sensitive. Jayce is curious to see what the segment says about it.

The knot becomes sensitive to the touch and is primarily used in cases of mating. This is when the male vastaya becomes aroused to the point where the goal of the knot is to ensure the likelihood of conception. The knot acts as a plug inside a vaginal canal to increase the chances of pregnancy. 

Now, Jayce has never experienced such a thing himself. He knew he was capable of it, but like the textbook says, it is only during mating or in intense instances of high emotions. Basically, if he’s horny enough he could produce a knot.

But one thing nags at the back of his mind as he reads; Why is this book in Viktor’s collection? Is this sort of thing like his morning paper? Surely not. He can’t even picture him sitting there with this book in his hand. What does he even gain from having the knowledge of the way vastayans mate? There’s no gain for him, is there? 

He shuts the book, unable to read any more (he already knows most of this anyway) and he looks back over his shoulder towards the hallway that leads to Viktor’s room. Worry suddenly bubbles up in his stomach and it churns into anxiety. He needs to check on him.

He makes his way into the room. The lights are off and the room pitch black, but Jayce can see enough. Viktor lays on his bed, eyes fluttering shut and hugging a stray pillow on his messy bed. It’s unmade and his sheets hang off the bed and pool to the ground- he didn’t even bother tucking himself in. The vastaya takes a quiet step forward, reaching his bedside and grabbing for the sheets. He straightens it and looks down at the lying figure.

He looks so cozy in his clothing. He’s let the sweatpants fall so now he’s just in his boxers and Jayce’s t-shirt that’s already ridden up his waist to expose the expanse of his back. He notices the metal following the path of his spine and wonders for a moment where his back brace went. He doesn’t wonder too long though because Viktor for once looks peaceful and he could never disturb that.

He lays the sheets delicately over Viktor and makes sure he’s well tucked before taking a step away.

“See yah.” He whispers affectionately and turns around to leave.

There’s a shuffle, limbs rubbing along fabric and all of a sudden Jayce is being tugged by the end of his tail. 

“Hey—!” His ass falls against the bed and he looks over to Viktor who’s got one eye open and looks up at him with a slight pout.

He parts his lips like he’s going to say something but when Jayce slowly pries his hand off his fur he shuts his mouth for a moment. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers to his partner.

“Can…” Viktor looks uncertain and he hides under the covers. “Will you stay…?”

Gods, it’s cliché and Jayce shouldn’t spend the night. He can’t think straight with Viktor’s scent suffocating his senses and seeing him in just his shirt has already got him breaking into a sweat. He really shouldn't spend the night…

“Of course I will.”

Fuck, how can I say no to him?

Despite asking him to stay and clearly inviting him onto the bed, Viktor doesn’t cling to him. He’s never been a very physical person nor has he been very intimate. Even during their escapade in their lab he didn’t linger for any kisses, soft touches or any of that pillow talk. It’s just the way Viktor is. But Jayce knows he at least can be touchy with him. So, he wraps an arm around Viktor’s torso and tugs him close until they’re spooning and the smaller one can feel Jayce’s thumping heart.

It’s soothing and he’s already falling into a deep sleep.

Jayce is the first to wake up. He’s not very shocked to see Viktor still slumbering beside him, but their limbs tangling together has him pleasantly stunned. In the middle of the night Viktor turned over and wrapped his arm around Jayce’s waist and shoved his thigh in between his to perfectly shape his body against the other. 

He peels himself away from him even if it does emotionally hurt him to do so. But he needs to piss and he can’t linger here for long. Drunk on his scent and the view of Viktor’s torso half exposed to him to the point where he can see the beginnings of the scars on his chest has him already worked up.

It doesn’t help that he fell asleep half hard and it doesn’t help any further waking up with his lab partner curled into him and sleeping soundly. Something about seeing him so peaceful and knowing he’s the cause for it has Jayce feeling that possessiveness over Viktor once more. 

He finds Viktor’s bathroom and it’s unpleasant to piss when hard but he has no other choice.

Jayce quietly steps back into the room, Viktor’s back is to him and he assumes he’s asleep. He bends down to grab his sock that fell onto the floor— he’s always losing those in his sleep. He turns to leave then.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Viktor’s accent is thick and it's riddled with exhaustion but there’s that hint of amusement. Jayce gasps and his eyes widen, his tail sits perfectly still and stands to attention in shock. The man who he had assumed was asleep, turns over and rests on his elbow, he looks at Jayce with stern brows.

“You were just gonna leave me?” 

“I…” Yes he was but he can’t admit that now. They both know the answer to the question but Jayce still lies. “No, no, of course not. Sorry…” He takes a seat on the bed. His tail lays comfortably across the bed and it rests over Viktor’s legs atop the blanket covering him. His delicate fingers instinctively card through the soft fur and Jayce struggles to stop the love sick grin on his face. It’s intimate, the way his fingers feather the brown fur and how soft his eyes become when they look at each other for a moment.

There’s something unspoken between them, it doesn’t need to be said especially since Viktor made his feelings for Jayce very clear their first time together. But Jayce needs the confirmation again. He rests a hand on the bed and leans in a little to talk softly to the man beneath him.

“Did you really mean what you said back then in the lab?”

Puzzled, Viktor looks at him with a cocked brow.

“What did I say?”

He blushes and looks off to the side. “Well, you…invited me for…part two of our…part two of when we—“

“Yes, I did mean it.” Viktor’s tone is very matter of fact and holds no tomfoolery. He’s firm with his answer. There’s a nod from Jayce who still can’t meet his eye.

“Were you…wanting that?”

Jayce is a little too eager with his answer and his tail escapes from Viktor’s fingers to thrash back and forth. 

“Yes! I do want it!”

Viktor struggles to hold in a laugh, clasping his hand over his mouth. 

“Okay, well, we can do that—“ Suddenly the covers are being ripped off of him and Jayce is inserting himself between his thighs, both huge hands on either knee and separating them from each other to fit his large frame. Viktor looks at him with wide eyes and in the crack of light seeping in from between curtains he sees Jayce as the animal he is in this moment.

Ears flicker atop his head, angling downwards with a predatory look to them, his eyes gleaming with determination. He shifts so he’s closer to Viktor.

“We do this now.” He can’t wait. Not when his partner is still in his clothes, not when he’s inside his home, on his bed and taking in Viktor’s entire scent and consuming as much as he can as he loses control of his coherent self. 

“Yeah…alright…we do this now…” Viktor is too stunned to speak more. Curiosity gets the better of him and he inspects Jayce as he gives him the okay.

“Do whatever you need…” He says with a small voice, his words slurring together much like the night before only this time arousal is the cause. He has a slight headache and he knows if it weren’t for Jayce making him hydrate and relax he wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed, let alone engage in sex.

It’s criminal to be up this early, but anything is worth it when Jayce is this needy. 

Viktor watches Jayce’s moves with a calculation, he’s read up on some of these animalistic tendencies the vastaya have and he’s curious to see Jayce finally relent and let this side of him control him.

He does just that.

Jayce presses his hips against Viktor’s and they groan in unison of the feeling of his hard-on pressing into the other's core. He’s still just as large and Viktor’s still amazed for even being able to fit him inside. He doesn’t worry too much about that when Jayce begins grinding into him, his hips thrusting like a dog in heat.

A whimper drips from between Jayce’s lips and his eyes shut tightly, his hips move with expertise and he runs his length up and down Viktor’s clothed slit. The man beneath him lets his body go slack and he breathes heavy, his entire body submitting to the animal above him. His thigh is being grabbed and Jayce digs his claws into his skin so roughly that he almost draws blood. 

Viktor dares to look up at Jayce, his eyes adjusting to the darkness and barely seeing the red blushing his cheeks, down his neck and what chest is exposed. His arms are thick and veins travel up them, large and straining against skin as he gives it his all to thrust. Viktor can feel himself becoming wetter with each press into him and feeling Jayce’s girth. A growl comes from deeply within his chest and Viktor moans at the sound coupling with the sensation of his claws on his pale, soft skin. 

“Jayce—“ Viktor gasps, “Jayce…ahh…” Jayce drops to his elbows, his back arched and hips never relenting. He leans down and presses his mouth into the crook of his partner's neck, his scruff is rough against the other’s jaw and his eyes roll back at the sensation. Jayce’s lips part and his sharp canines press into the skin where his jaw meets his ear and he runs his teeth flush against the skin. Viktor begins gasping and he wraps his arms under his armpits and grabs fistfuls of his shirt on his back.

The room— despite always being freezing— begins to heat up much like Jayce’s apartment, only it wasn’t the heater. Their very bodies pushing together and hot breaths mixing and combining together cause their space to warm and Viktor was already beginning to feel his skin dampen with desire and sweat. He lets out a drawn out moan, high pitched and winey when Jayce clamps his teeth on skin and wraps his lips around to suckle on his delicate skin. It hurts but it hurts good, he can ignore the aching of his back and his leg cramping when he feels that thickness drag across his damp boxers. Gods, Jayce is as girthy as his thigh, perhaps even more.

Jayce’s chest rumbles with a growl of need, his mind becomes muddled with arousal and he can’t seem to stop himself the moment he’s gotten a taste of Viktor pliant skin. He soothes the harsh wound he’s left on his neck with his warm tongue, lapping at it like a dog drinking from a water bowl. His nose grazes over to a new spot where his neck meets his shoulder and in Jayce’s eagerness to have another taste, his canines bite down and this time he draws blood. There’s a yelp, tightening of limbs around him and Viktor’s sound of pain dissolves into another moan and he curses in his mother tongue.

Jayce pulls away enough to take a look at the damage to see two little holes that slowly ooze blood, he places his lips back over it and takes in the metallic taste with his tongue. He holds Viktor down with a strength he didn’t recognize and he pulls his hips away just to snap them back into place like he’s already fucking his partner into the mattress. He lets out another low moan from his chest and finally pulls away, his lips glistening with spit.

“I need to taste you, I can’t help myself.” He’s suddenly grasping at the elastic band of Viktor’s boxers and tugging them with fervor. The other watches this, leaning up on his elbows and lifting his hips as well as he can. Wetness sticks to the boxers in a bridge of clear and white to his forest of hair. His dick poking between the bushes, enlarged and red.

Jayce shimmies himself down further on the bed, he plants kisses down Viktor’s body, biting gently at his nipples and grabbing as much flesh as he could during his descent. His lips trail over scars and moles, kissing the constellations traveling across his body and fingers dancing on his skin like a pianist playing a slow ballad. Careful, calculated and passionate. He kisses down the trail of hair from his bellybutton to where he’s aching and his clit twitches when it feels Jayce’s breath.

He pushes Viktor’s thighs up from the back of his knees and raises them over his own head, his heels find purchase on the vastayans shoulders. He begins to dive in.

His tongue lays flat against the expanse of his dick, swiping side to side and letting his lashes flutter shut as the taste of Viktor spreads across the wet muscle. Satisfied when Viktor releases a sigh and moans, he takes his large clit into his mouth and suckles it. He flicks the tip of his tongue over his clit since he can’t get enough of the way Viktor’s hips buck upward with each suck. Jayce lazily laps at it, spit already collecting in his mouth and spilling out from the corners as he takes in a deep breath after holding it for too long.

“So good…you taste so good…V…” He huffs between lapping. He feels Viktor ooze more arousal fluid to the point where his face is practically drenched in it. He pulls away to take another breath in but Viktor is grabbing his messy hair by the roots and shoving his face back into the bush of coarse hair and his dick gets shoved back into his mouth.

“Don’t stop!” He says breathlessly, hands clammy and heels digging roughly into his shoulders to pin him down. “Please, don’t…keep going…” Jayce thrusts his face forward and backward, tightening his lips around his clit to jerk off the length of it. Viktor begins whimpering, his words turning incoherent and more words in his mother tongue gasp between his lips. Jayce doesn’t understand a word but he can read the tone. Don’t stop. He doesn’t intend to.

Jayce lets go of the man’s clit with a pop of his lips and he slips his tongue between his slit to dive the tip of it into his soaked entrance. His hands now slide to cup his ass cheeks and his thumbs rest on each either side of his dick to spread him apart. Sticky lines of arousal are stuck to hair and he watches Viktor’s hole clamp shut and open, fluttering around nothing and practically aching to be filled. 

His own hips begin to lazily buck into the sheets, his hard-on straining against his clothes and he feels it. He feels part of himself start to expand and pulse, blood pumping through it to increase the size between his legs. Jayce moans loudly, he wants to stuff Viktor full. He briefly thinks back to their morning together, how well Viktor took him and the bulge protruding from his lower stomach with each thrust. The thought alone would be enough for him to cum right there but he’s too determined to mate. An animalistic sound comes deep from his throat and it startles Viktor— a frustrated, rib cage shattering groan that vibrates the entire bed. His tail snaps side to side like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

“I saw the book you were reading last night.” He says in a low tone, his mouth running along his slit teasingly, up and down, up and down. Viktor’s entire body shivers and he twitches with overstimulation. He takes a breath.

“What book?” He can’t even think right now. What the hell is Jayce doing by engaging in pillow talk in the middle of sex?

He smiles and runs his tongue up and down the shaft of his large clit. He expertly draws a moan from Viktor once more.

“About vastaya’s…” That’s all that needs to be said for Viktor to realize what he means. He goes bright red, ears burning hot and his eyes widen. He was not meant to see that and he’s a fool for keeping it out like that! But how was he supposed to know this would happen?! 

“I…well…”

“About knotting? You’re that curious?”

His confidence comes back to him, he can’t have Jayce have the upper hand like this, can he? He struggles to bite back a whimper when Jayce’s fingers circle around his entrance and barely inserts one finger before he finally dares to speak.

“Mmfh…Don’t you have something to show me, then?” 

Jayce shifts, lapping him up a few more times before he’s finally releasing himself and Viktor lets go of his hair. His fingers delicately rubs across his ears, something so soft and intimate that it makes Jayce’s chest ache with a fullness he can’t quite describe.

He gets up on his knees, Viktor’s legs still spread and he scoots to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He’s not going to miss a show like this— watching Jayce take off his pants and finally reveal his dick once more. Only this time he had much more to show.

His fingers drag the hem of his pants down, unzipping them first and sliding them down along with his briefs to the halfway point past his thighs. There’s an immediate relief as his cock springs forth from the confines of fabric and it bobs a few times, precum drips from the tip as he releases a drawn out sigh. 

Viktor had seen the diagrams, had seen vastaya porn (he could never admit that especially not to Jayce) but he wasn’t expecting such length and girth to come from this man. It truly is thicker than his own thigh. He knows for a fact that if he were to try and wrap a hand around it, his fingers would not meet each other. But still his curiosity gets the better of him and his hand slowly reaches out. When Jayce’s cock lays against his palm, he runs it down the shaft, then to where the knot begins, bulging outward, veins running along it. He can practically feel his heartbeat on the shaft and Viktor follows down and down the underside of his cock until his fingertips drags across Jayce’s balls. Heavy, warm and needing to be emptied. 

He looks up at Jayce then who’s eyes are shut and chest is heaving with deep breaths.

“Take your shirt off,” Viktor says, already stripping his own off, tossing Jayce’s shirt to the side. Jayce takes his off, hairy torso being fully exposed once more. Oh, how Viktor missed it, how often he would lay in this very bed and fantasize about it, touching himself until he was cumming on his fingers to the image of Jayce thrusting into him. Now he’ll once again get the real thing.

“Come here,” he says gently, laying back down and leaning against a pillow so he can have a good view. Jayce takes this moment to awkwardly kick off his pants, now both fully exposed.

He sits between Viktor’s legs, grabbing his dick in his hand and positioning it so his tip kisses Viktor’s. They both release a startled sound of arousal, Viktor already moving his hips to encourage more friction between them but the other falters for a moment.

He stops, looks at Viktor and there’s a hint of worry in his hazel eyes. “I might lose control on you…”

Bewildered for a moment, the older looks at him.

“Okay…and?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t think I really care if you do.”

His dick twitches in his hand and he has to physically bite his tongue to halt the moan.

“Don’t…don’t say that…”

“Jayce—“ Viktor reaches out to place a comforting palm on Jayce’s chest, he pets the hair soothingly and they meet eyes. “Let yourself go…give it to me. I know what I’m getting into.”

He really doesn’t. But it’s too late to back out.

Jayce doesn’t even acknowledge what he says, his ears pivot into a phase of concentration and he drags his large length up and down Viktor’s wetness. One hand grabs his waist, the other holding the base of his cock to steady it. His knot seems to grow in size and even he can’t believe his eyes to the sheer size of it. It’s so thick and he can barely get enough coating of Viktor’s arousal to even begin to think about entering him.

He looks up, desperate. “You have any lube?” 

Viktor is quick to grab some from his bedside table and Jayce puts a generous amount in his hand and warms it in his palm before he’s slowly jerking himself off.

That textbook wasn’t joking, his knot is indeed extremely sensitive but he makes sure to lube the base of it as much as he can before he’s aligning his tip to Viktor’s entrance. 

“Shit…stay still,” He warns with a softer tone, but that rumble in his chest still lingers. Viktor holds his breath, trying to relax his muscles as Jayce begins to insert himself.

He’s been fucking himself for a week now, he’s used to a girth but this one…this girth that’s pushing inside him hurts. He scrunches his face in pain and throws his head back.

“Agh….Mmmfhh…Jayce…m-more lube!” He chokes, the head of his dick splitting him so far apart he can feel the burn of it. He’s quick to slather more lube, pull away slightly to watch it dribble down his head and into Viktor before he attempts to enter him again.

It goes smoothly this time, he slides right in and there’s still the burn of the stretch but it’s pleasant enough for Viktor to release an aching whine. He swears under his breath, he cups his hands under his knees to hold his legs up and he lets his chin drop to watch Jayce force his way inside him.

His knot comes up fast, his stomach is already bulging in size and Viktor’s jaw locks open in an aroused shock. He slides his hand to his lower stomach and palms the length poking through. Jayce falters, his thighs tremble and his cock twitches at the sensation. His knot lays flush against Viktor’s fluttering hole and he can’t stop himself.

Jayce pulls back, witnessing his glistening length slowly pull out, and in the same pace he pushes back in. Viktor’s hand now grasps his pillow beneath his head and he gasps his partner's name. His knot slides in just barely, and he repeats the same slow thrust.

The bed begins to creak under their weight, Jayce is moving slowly and calculated so as to not hurt Viktor or stretch him too harshly. He’s patient despite the struggle already hold back filling him up with his seed and fucking it into him until his knot get stuck inside him. He’s a good boy and he’ll let it happen naturally.

That is until one simple word slips out of Viktor’s beautiful mouth.

“Faster.”

Jayce’s hips snap, skin on skin starts to rise in volume and he obeys, his thrust going a little bit faster. Just enough to cause Viktor’s body to lurch with each press into him. He’s fitting his knot half way now, just a few more thrusts and—

“Harder.” 

Jayce has to grab Viktor’s waist with both hands now, his thumbs dig into his hip bones, his gaze drops down to watch his stomach protrude and indent back to its normal state over and over again until finally he lets out a groan, a strained sound and he snaps his hips so harshly that Viktor cries out as he’s forced to take the entire knot.

He squeezes around it and Jayce barely feels it, he’s already so tight around him, any spasm around him barely flutters the nerves on his cock. He pulls out, both of them gasping before he’s plunging forward with such fierce strength that his thighs smack against the back of Viktor’s with a harsh sound that echoes in the room.

“Vik…fuck…!” His knot goes deep inside his partner and this time he feels his hole tighten around him. When he tries to pull out he finds he can’t. His knot is stuck and all he can do now is desperately rut into Viktor like a dog in a ferocious heat. 

Jayce lifts Viktor’s hips off the bed and the sound of their moans mix together in a filthy harmony of their carnal desire for one another.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He swears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Jayce whimpers, unrelenting with his thrusting, guilt trickling into his muddled mind as he uses Viktor’s body for his own pleasure.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I need this…I need you…please…” His lower abdomen begins to tighten, his balls smack hard and heavy into Viktor’s ass and Jayce’s tail wags frantically. He’s already getting close.

Viktor reaches downward, hand lingering on his stomach once more to feel the protruding cock in his stomach before he slides it further down to wildly jerk himself off with three fingers.

“Jayce…Aghh…cum in me…”

“I will— shit, V. I’ll cum in you again and again…I’m sorry but I need to—“ He chokes on a groan. “I need you to breed you…fill you up full and— haaah— fuck my cum into you…”

“Do it…I’m close…Jayce, just— přesně tam— make me cum…”

Jayce presses Viktor back into the bed and presses his chest against the other’s. He replaces Viktor’s fingers with his own and they lock eyes as Jayce gets him closer to his orgasm.

“I’m right there with you,” His voice trembles with each thrust, “C’mon, V…cum for me and I’ll cum for you…”

And that was enough. Jayce’s fingers quicken on his clit as Viktor cries out, his body begins convulsing as the tsunami of pleasure invades his entire being. Jayce feels him flutter around his cock, tightening and pulsing, his clit jolting as his body rides out his orgasm. He grabs for his partner's shoulders, digging his nails into him now and he lifts his legs, wrapping them around Jayce’s waist.

“Jayce…ngh…cum in me!” 

He gives one final thrust, his cock spurts out white ropes inside him, sweat gathers at his forehead and he rides out his own orgasm now. Viktor moans at the sensation, wetness increasing between them, feeling the head of Jayce’s cock press into his cervix, his knot stretching him so well and plugging him up so no cum can escape. 

Jayce ruts his hips harshly into Viktor’s, the ropes of his cum never ceasing. His balls tighten, thighs ache when the muscles contract and he can’t seem to stop filling him up. He knows it’s only Viktor who can make him feel this way, no other partner has ever been able to make him feel this strongly. He lowers his head into his neck when his dick begins to feel too sensitive and he lets out a strained groan when his climax finally begins to subside.

He makes sure not to let his entire dead weight lay atop of Viktor, he holds his upper torso above him and lets his head hang. His chest heaves with each heavy breath, the both of them attempting to catch it together. Viktor’s legs unwind around him and he flops them back down onto the bed. Jayce wishes he could he could rest, lay down next to him and relax in Viktor’s arms but—

“I think I’m stuck inside you…” He admits weakly, letting out a defeated chuckle and Viktor laughs hoarsely. He feels delicate fingers on his scruff, scratching under his chin much like he did a week ago and lifts the vastaya’s chin so they can look at each other.

“You haven’t kissed me,” Viktor says almost in a disappointing tone. Jayce does not hesitate to lean in and hook his lips in between the other’s. Viktor’s fingers instantly find themselves in his tousles of hair, thumbs finding the base of his ears instantly and rubbing them soothingly— massaging them and it draws out a broken moan from Jayce.

Their lips slot between each other’s, Jayce taking the lead for the most part and struggling to not devour Viktor right here. He cups a hand over his cheek, his hand so large that three of his fingers rest on his neck under his jaw and he slips his tongue out to taste the inside of Viktor’s mouth.

He still tastes the alcohol, the hint of coffee from the night previous. As for Viktor, he tastes that faint saltiness of his own excitement on Jayce’s tongue from when he went down on him. He can feel the desire, passion and need in the way his tongue invades his mouth and invites itself to run along his teeth and press into his own tongue. They both part their lips and let the wet muscles swirl together is a messy evidence of their dedication for one another. 

Jayce suddenly pulls away.

“I won’t be able to get out of you if we keep kissing like this…” He lets out a breathy laugh, kissing Viktor once more but on the cheek this time. The man underneath him shifts and tightens around him to feel that his knot has not subsided at all in the slightest.

“Hm,” He hums and wiggles his hips side to side. “Guess we’ll have to do a part three, won’t we?”

Jayce, in shock, lifts himself up on his elbows and meets Viktor’s gaze. 

“You’re insane. I could hurt you!”

There’s a pointed look. “Do you really think I care? Haven’t we gone over this?”

He’s stupid for still being concerned, clearly.

“Right. Sorry.” 

They catch each other's breath for a beat long before Jayce begins to try and pull out of Viktor. It’s no use, he’s bulging, still hard and being squeezed around so tightly he’s afraid he might tear something inside him. He can only move a few centimeters backward but it’s enough for him to rock his body into Viktor’s.

Instantly there are limbs wrapping around him.

“Yes,” Viktor breathes, “Right there…” His tip grazes his cervix, kissing it with each thrust and there’s a filthy wet sound between them. His partner is becoming wet again, lubing him up even further and his hole loosens with arousal and it gives Jayce enough room to pull out of him halfway over his knot and push back inside him with a great force. 

“Fuck,” Jayce releases with a bestial grumble, his cock already aching and sensitive, ready to fill Viktor even more with him. “So tight—“ He gasps, tucking his face into his neck and biting down hard once more and drawing blood. Iron spills into his mouth and nails dig into his back surely leaving marks in their wake. A whimper and cry out in pain comes from below him and he fucks into Viktor harder, voice shaking and headboard slamming into the wall. If the neighbors somehow didn’t hear them earlier then now they would. 

“Jayce…use me!” He cries. “You’re so deep— kurva— I can feel you—“ He lays his hand back over his stomach, the dick imprint protruding over and over. They both look at it in wonder, Jayce’s lips now tinged with blood.

“Look how deep you are…” Viktor says softly. Slack jawed and moaning, he lolls his head backward into his pillow as the pleasure and overstimulation haunts his nervous system. Viktor’s body trembles again, barely five minutes into round two and he’s already drawing closer to his second orgasm.

The larger man above him pins him down with his hand, grabbing his wrists and slamming his pelvis into Viktor, skin slapping together in a vicious sound and he feels his own cum begin to slip past his knot and dribble down the underside of his cock and down into Viktor’s ass. 

“Gonna cum for me again?” He asks with a harshness he doesn’t even recognize. His fingers are tightly wound around Viktor’s wrists and he knows he’s going to leave purple marks, possibly bruising. He knows he’ll feel bad about it later.

His partner can only nod, sucking in his bottom lip to chew on it, neck growing red in color and chest heaving as he struggles to hold back his wave of pleasure. He nods his head frantically and releases a gasp.

“Yes! Yes! I’m going to cum again!”

“Not yet— don’t…not until I do,” Jayce demands. He releases one of his wrists to push down Viktor’s leg against the bed and witness the way his cock slides in and out, it’s creamy and soaking, he see’s Viktor’s dick twitch and muscles tighten when he struggles further to hold back his orgasm.

“I’m almost there…let…ugh…let me bury my cum in you and then you can too, okay?” 

“Use my cunt,” Viktor cries out his plea. “Use me…Jayce…give it to me…”

He’s already cumming again, getting to the finishing line much quicker, his dick almost hurting with how overstimulating it all is but that doesn’t lessen the pleasure he feels when he shoots more hot ropes into Viktor’s pliant cunt.

It increases when he doesn’t stop abusive plunging and Viktor finally cums around him.

Once more Viktor cries out and his leg breaks free from Jayce’s grasp and they rise above his head as liquid pours out of him a violent spray, soaking Jayce’s lower torso and dripping down him and his partners thighs.

“Fuck, V—“ Jayce pulls out immediately and grabs himself at the base to grind his knot against his dick. More liquid sprays around them and Jayce does his best to help Viktor ride his orgasm out. 

Cum seeps out of his hole and into a puddle into the sheets, staining them and soaking them all the way to the mattress. His entire body goes limp all except for the final jolts of the residual climax causing his whole body to jostle as each wave dies down.

Immediately, Jayce begins after care, leaning down to kiss Viktor on his sweaty forehead. He brushes sticky hair off his forehead and kisses the skin exposed, salt tints his lips and he can taste it when he runs his tongue along them. He stops himself from calling Viktor beautiful, being too shy but knowing he has to later.

He’s handsome, laid out on the bed, eyes half lidded and flowers of bruises and marks beginning to bloom across his pale, beautiful skin. Moles frame the artwork left by Jayce’s fingers that he reaches out to pet and leans down to kiss each one.

“You okay?” He asks with a soft tone, his voice hoarse but fingers delicate and tentative to sensitive skin. Viktor nods, cracking his eyes open to look up at Jayce with a crooked smile, teeth shown.

“Yeah…I’m great,” He groans, his stiff legs moving to squeeze together and more cum oozes out of him like honey. “Achy…but okay…” He struggles to sit up on his elbows and Jayce scoots himself to help, wrapping an arm around him and their faces are inches from each other. They pause for a second, taking in the silence between them all except their huffs of breath that escape their lips. Viktor’s eyes glance down to Jayce’s lips, then back up to his eyes.

A beat. Viktor cups a hand over the side of his neck and follows his jawline with his thumb.

“Kiss me?” He asks with a knowing smile.

Jayce leans in gently, ghosting his lips over Viktor’s and pressing them together with a patience they lacked just minutes ago.

They’re like this for a while, in each other's arms, kissing and running their hands through their hair. Viktor massages Jayce’s ears at their base, rubbing his thumb into the cartilage and Jayce lets out a purr, rumbling into his chest and fluttering his eyes shut, rolling back into his head at the pleasure. Then nails scratch around the base of them and Jayce lets out another sound of pleasure.

“You really are like a dog, hm?” Viktor teases.

“I could bite like one too.”

“Oh, I know very well.” They chuckle and Jayce dips his face into Viktor’s palm that pulls away from his ear. His tail twitches, wanting to wag but not being able to have the energy to. 

More silence and Jayce slowly gets off the bed to begin the cleanup.

“Let me help you change the sheets. You got a bathtub?” Viktor hums a yes and points Jayce to the door where he walks in and already starts a bath.

“You take a bath while I clean, yeah?” He’s not going to give Viktor a choice in the matter but he’s still polite. Viktor blushes over the kindness of his partner and he nods.

“You’re too sweet, Jayce.”

He shrugs. “I just like you…a lot.”

He picks Viktor up like a princess and carries him to the bathroom. His arms are around Jayce’s neck and he smiles up at him.

“I like you a lot too…Can we do this again?”

Jayce gives him a side eye.

“Let’s take a break for a bit before we do this again.” 

[ask-postcrash-curly]

fine!

“I don’t need trauma therapy from death itself”

yes, yes you do, and as a omnipotent, all knowing, omnipresent being, i am fully capable of offering such things, if only to define abuse. i hope not to bring distress, im not here for that. im here for solace.

abuse is defined as knowingly causing harm or distress. let’s use for an example the moments leading up to that one thing that happened. (it’s hard to talk about because it needs to be talked about.) your heart is beating louder and faster than it ever has. i heard it. you reach him after the walk (or light sprint, if we’re being real) from medical, and he’s already in a defensive state. his arms crossed, his back to the wall, and when given the opportunity to talk, he goes after you, your dignity, your leadership, he’s bashing you, basically. he silences you, what can you say? you can’t. you stand there in a state of freeze. (as in fight, flight, that shit. if i’m a therapist, we’re busting out the therapy talk.) it’s almost as if you leave your body, just until he stops. just until you know you’re safe. you don’t know if he’ll get physical, no way to know he won’t.

aaand then he’s gone, he’s walked into the cockpit, and you’re hyperventilating. your heart hurts from the way it’s been beating.

i won’t go further than that.

that is abuse, bud. and even by that one interaction, you can tell it’s not the first time that happened. if he’s fine treating you the way he is now, he must be comfortable with it already.

i only wish i could deliver comfort. i physically don’t exist, and yet i do, so let my hand on your head not hurt you, but keep company.

it’s fine. there’s nothing we can actively do right now, the only thing you can do is try to keep yourself not miserable.

the people care, mr curls. stop being a sad little capitalist and take a mental walk, and take these songs. they’re nice.

- 🖤

Wh— Of course I was panicking! I didn’t know how he would react! Obviously not well! It— it was just words. He didn’t so much as insult me. l could have talked back. I should have talked back. I wasn’t in danger, yet. And even if I were, I’m the captain. It’s my job to face the danger before it can reach the rest of them. I wasn’t unsafe. Even if he had gotten physical about it, so what? We’re evenly matched. If anything, I’m stronger. I had nothing to be afraid of except what he would do if I left him leave. (And I did.) I wanted the conversation to end because he was telling me things I didn’t want to hear. Not because he was— No, you’re wrong. It was words. All just words.

I’m not good with confrontation, that’s all. I way upset about Anya and worried how he’d react. That’s the only reason why I— And that was barely a confrontation anyway. He didn’t raise his voice. He was so calm by the end of it.

…

It can’t be abuse. It’s just words. He didn’t even yell, so how could that be abuse? Hell, that’s nowhere near the worst thing he’s said to me. …No. No, he never did anything like this before— It wasn’t— I could fight back before. It wasn’t the same as this. I never expected he’d hurt me like this. He was good at hiding how he felt about me. He got insecure sometimes, yeah? Got angry if he felt abandoned. If I said something too out of line. He never just— I never thought he liked seeing me hurt for the sake of it until he hit me when he knew I was in pain to begin with and he knew I couldn’t stop him. Wouldn’t have minded if I could have stopped him.

…Thanks.

“Not miserable.” Hah. Best I can do most of the time is “not actively suicidal.”

I don’t mean to. I never wanted to stay on this path. I figured I’d be happy as long as I got to fly. Just a few short hauls, then onto bigger and better. Real work. I was up here. That was supposed to be enough for a while. Space seemed endless back then. Now it’s empty. Makes me empty too. Whenever I’m on Earth it’s moved on without me in a million impossibly fast ways. I felt like I was losing my mind sometimes. As if no one else noticed or cared that my life is slipping by. As if they thought this job meant something real. I’m no capitalist. I know exactly how fucking little it matters. And that I know matters even less.

The people care. What is there left of me to care about? I’m not talking about what’s outside.

You’re right. I— I need to get out of my own thoughts.

…

They’re nice. Thanks. Sorry I don’t have specific things to say. I can’t… put the words together. But I mean it. Feeling a little better now.

Don’t like the last one much though.

[dyli-dadi3]

Cock worship

When Ada lets him down time after time, you lift up his spirits and show him just how much you appreciate him (and his cock).

Tags: oral (m receiving), mentions of blood, suicidal thoughts, Leon is a little mean at the beginning, but it all gets resolved, throatpie.

Today was the shittiest day of Leon’s life. Hand’s down. Forget about his girlfriend breaking up with him, forget about the zombies, the car crash, or even the fact that a big gray piece of foreskin was chasing him. Today was nothing but shit. And after wading through the sewers just so a hot Asian FBI agent would like him, he smells like shit, too. 

The only good part of today was you. He found you walking around the RPD, fending off zombies and lickers. After the two of you teamed up, you were always there to tell him how well he was doing. If he was being honest with himself, the constant reassurance was the only thing keeping his Matilda away from his mouth.

He wanted to get out of here, he wanted to get you out of here. So if that meant pushing through all this nonsense, he’d do it. The only thing that bothered him was your adamant dislike of Ada.

He’s not stupid. He knows Ada’s using him, and you don’t hide your opinion about her from him either. 

“But she’s FBI, what else can we do?” He shrugs at you. And she’s cute.

“I think she’s lying,” You suggested. The two of you were wading through G-infested water, the wet socks he had at the back of his mind.

“Listen, liking me doesn't give you an excuse to act like a jealous bitch just because she’s pretty.” Leon sighed. 

In his normal world, he would have never called a woman that. His Nonna didn’t raise a jackass. But this was for the good of humankind! For god's sake, zombies were running, well, walking around trying to bite a chunk out of his well-sculpted traps! He had no sympathy for a jealous girl in the middle of an apocalypse.

You paused, in the middle of crawling out of the water. “What did you call me?” You scowled.

“I said, you’re a-”

“I’m saying she’s lying because I can tell when a woman is being a liar. Not because you think I like you.” You almost fumed, ears turning bright red. Who did he think he was? This was so much bigger than some crush. You were so angry you couldn't even defend yourself correctly.

“Yeah, right.” Leon huffed.

—

“You trust that bitch?” Annette coughed out, blood dripping down her lips as she panted.

Leon looked at her confused and slightly offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He mumbled.

You just stood to the side, arms crossed. Finally. Another woman who gets it.

“She’s not FBI, she’s a mercenary.”

Who would have thought…

You wanted to have more sympathy for Leon, you really did. But after that stunt he pulled in the sewers, you were getting tired. The two of you were so close to escaping despite the goose chase Ada sent you on. 

As soon as Ada put her well-manicured, delicate hand on his knee, Leon turned into a desperate mess. 

Yes, Ada, we’ll get the G sample for you! Don’t worry!

It was so pathetic it would have been cute if you weren’t so mad at Ada. Even if she was FBI, what about girl code? You got to him first. 

You didn’t even need to flirt to get Leon to listen to you, he just did. That’s who he was. Green around the ears and raised to help people. Especially pretty women. 

—

“She’s gonna sell it-” Annette rasped out, shuddering. “The G-Virus is gonna go to the highest bidder.” 

“That’s bullshit.” Leon huffed, getting up.

“I hope you’re right.”

—

“I told you-”

“I know!” Leon hissed, carding his fingers through his hair. 

Okay, maybe you felt a little bad for Leon. I mean, could you blame him? His generosity and blind faith were what brought you two together. If it were any other guy, he probably would have left you to rot, so that’s got to mean something. And in all honesty, he did seem to feel bad. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet the entire train ride out of the facility. You both smelled like shit, the G-Virus was lost, and Leon watched a woman die, innocent or not. 

When you two were taken into custody, it was as if Leon was a completely different man. He almost looked, ashamed. He brushed over Ada in his rundown of the night for whatever reason and just focused on the zombie part of your nightmarish night. You supposed it was for the best, it was hard to talk about her if you didn’t bring up Umbrella, and it was hard to bring up that when it apparently “controlled the city.” It was a lost cause.

When you both were put into a “recovery facility” you didn’t fight it. They claimed you needed to be kept close together since you could turn any second. The thought was a little terrifying, but when Leon looked so… dejected… you couldn’t leave the poor guy alone. At least you two got your beds to sleep in.

But that was all thrown out the window the moment Leon burst into tears at the foot of his bed. 

“I’m so sorry, I was such a fucking idiot for listening to her! She played me like a damn fiddle and you warned me and I still didn’t listen,” he gasped for air. “We could have been long gone, but I dragged you into a wild goose chase for a woman who was just going to throw us away afterward.” Leon groaned, burying his face in his hands, gripping the strands of his hair that fell in front of his eyes. 

You paused, surprised that he had felt this bad for it. He hadn’t said a single thing earlier, so you had no idea that it had been bothering him, especially to this extent. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he looked ravishable right now. 

Sure, you were pissed at him for not listening to you, but you couldn’t hold a grudge to him. He apologized, and you felt the need to replay him for all the things you appreciated him doing, not the ones you were annoyed for. After all, you couldn’t stay mad at him forever. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you, Leon.” You murmur, sitting next to him on his bed. You put a hand on his thigh, rubbing up and down reassuringly. “We’re still alive, and that’s all that matters. You’re the one who got shot.”

He looked at your hand on his thigh, then at you, pink dusting his cheeks. “You’re not mad?” He lets out a breath, body slowly relaxing. 

“I’m not mad, Leon. I think your trust in people is admirable.” You nodded, slowly moving your hand up the firm muscle, feeling the way the ligaments tensed under your gentle touch.

“I want to show you how much I appreciate you, Leon.” You look at his eyes with a level of calm that it makes his eyes widen. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.” He held his breath.

You let out a sigh of relief, moving your hand up until you’re met with the half-hard cock of the man you’ve been crushing on for the entirety of this shit show. You bit your lip, feeling the blood pump underneath his skin through the thin pair of pants that he wore. Thank goodness the government didn’t bother to give him a more substantial piece of clothing. The two of you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand feeling the way he reacted to you, how he shivered when you pressed down harder, how he’d whimpered when you squeezed his length, or how your delicate fingers grazed the sensitive tip of his cock,

“Please.” He whined softly, his hips squirming as he leaned back and grabbed the sheets at his sides. 

“Shh… Let me make you feel good, Leon.” You whispered as you continued to graze over his cock before deciding to cut him some slack. “Is this okay?” You asked, your hand gripping the drawstring of his pants.

He bit his lip and nodded, the soft flesh turning so white that you were surprised he didn’t start bleeding. “Shh, relax, Leon.” You whispered, your free hand coming to cup his cheek to distract him from the way your hand was working the knot on his pants. 

He nuzzled your palm, eyes darting in between your face that was looking at him with admiration, and your hand that was slowly sneaking into his pants. The juxtaposition made his head dizzy, on top of the mind-numbing torture you were making his poor cock endure. “I-I need…” He stuttered, brows furrowed as he stared at your hand moving to touch him under his pants. 

“Yeah? What do you need, baby?” You asked, stroking him slowly.

His eyes darted up to yours, lips parted.

For a moment, you worried that you pushed past the line, saying something a little too intimate for the moment. But he just whined, grabbing your wrist to press down harder. “Need more… Please.”

You nodded pushing him gently to lay him down on his back, head against the pillows. “Gonna make you feel good, don’t worry. Gonna show you how much I appreciate you for saving me.” You whispered, bringing your face to his erection. 

You leaned in, kissing a vein that ran up his shaft. 

It was easy to indulge in Leon, his cock was pretty, the little noises he made were pretty, and he was pretty. One lick and he was already begging for more. You held his cock up with one hand while the other went to his hand, bringing it to your head. “You can touch me, Leon.” You mumbled before bringing your lips to his tip.

You wasted no time in swallowing his cock, taking him in. You were rewarded with a strained moan, a hand covering his mouth while the other held your head close, cradling it. “Fuck!”

It was surreal if you were being honest. Just hours ago, you were sweaty, covered in blood, and smelled like the drain of a toilet bowl. But now, you were laying in bed with the most handsome man you’ve ever met and he was letting you suck his dick. You wouldn’t say you were lucky, but it was about time you got some of that good karma.

You drowned out the memories of the night, completely focused on making Leon feel good. With every push and pull, or swipe, or swallow, you were wiping away the images that you were sure were going to come back to haunt you. For tonight, you would be his, and that was all you could ask for.

“Y-You gotta stop.” He panted, trying to tug you away as his meaty thighs trembled on either side of your head. You groaned your disapproval, taking delight in the way he sobbed at the vibration. 

You popped off, smiling up at him. “Don’t wanna.” You murmured as your hand moved. “What’s so bad about making you feel good, Leon?” You almost pouted, pressing a kiss to his frenulum before letting his skin roll back over the throbbing muscle.

“It’s too much.” He huffed, brows furrowed as he pulled you away. “Too much for what? Because I’m pretty sure my job was to pleasure you, and I didn’t see stopping on the job description.” You frowned as he sat up. 

“Y-Yeah, well I just don’t want to be done before we get to the.. Uhh… ‘good stuff’.” He murmured, looking down at the sheets.

The notion made you laugh. “It isn’t getting much better than this unless you want it, baby. This is for you.” The whisper left your lips like a gentle breeze, but to him, it was as if you were a hurricane crashing through his foggy brain.

“Really?” He was surprised, ignoring the way he twitched at your caring words. It was mortifying.

“All you.” You confirmed, slowly bringing your face back to his cock. 

“I don’t care about the sex, Leon. If you’ll allow me, I’m going to make you cum just like this.” You tugged down, kissing the pretty pink tip he had that was just leaking at this point, all restraint abandoned at the sight of his throbbing dick.

“I wan’ it.” He whined, tugging your head closer, holding onto you for dear life as he practically shoved his dick back into your face. “Wanna cum down your pretty mouth and then paint your face.” He gasped, toes curling and head lolling back as you took him in again. 

He didn’t need to hear you to tell that you wanted it, nor look at your eyes. Fuck, he thinks that if he looked into your eyes, he would nut right there. The feeling was liberating. You didn’t hold any expectations on him, didn’t take and take. You gave.

And fuck, did you give good head, his ex couldn’t make him nut harder if she tried.

You took your time before, but now that he really wanted it, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to cum, he wanted to cum down your throat so bad. He didn’t have to worry about disappointing you, or putting on a performance, it was raw, visceral, and perfect. 

He moaned, cradling the back your head as he fucked up into your sloppy mouth. He didn’t even have time to think about how good your pussy could be, he was already crying as he spurted his cum down your throat. “Shit!” He whined, hips jerky and uncoordinated as he shoved it all in. “Is that what you wanted? To have me fuck your face?” He panted, finally looking down at your debauched face as he let you go.

You coughed, throat sore from working his cock. As you blinked away the tears, you smiled up at him. “Only if it made you happy.”

Maybe today wasn’t so shitty after all.